Page 52 of Bitten Vampire

She ignores me. The vampires do something odd: they retreat from her.

What am I missing?

It’s not just the bat,Beryl murmurs.She moves like a fighter, and look, she has company.

I sense them, the heavy, predatory aura of shifters sliding from the shadows, dozens strong, watching and waiting.

Oh.

That would do it.

The vampire thug meets my eyes. “We’ll see you soon, baby rogue.” Then the lot of them melt into the night.

My knees give way and I flop onto the pavement—straight into a puddle. I don’t care.

“What are you doing?” A deep male voice booms from the doorway. Bright light spills out, masking his features. “Where did you get that cricket bat? Tell me you didn’t. Lark, that was in the glass case. It’ssigned!”

Lark’s silver eyes widen. She mouthsoops, tucks the bat beneath one arm, and crouches beside me.

“That hex is nasty. Want help stripping it?”

A shifter removing a spell? Suspicion coils, but my instincts say trust her. I nod.

Lark extends her hand, fingers waggling. Something tugs inside me, behind my shoulder blades, as though a layer of skin peels away. It doesn’t hurt, just unsettling, like peeling off a face mask in one smooth pull.

Moments later the weight vanishes and feeling floods backinto my legs.

“Thank you,” I croak.

“Glad to help.” Lark rocks back on her heels, studying me. “Are you all right? Need anything?”

“I’m fine. Just a misunderstanding.”

Her gaze drops to Beryl.

Panic flickers. I tighten my grip on the stake and scramble upright on shaky legs. I don’t wait.

I run.

“Let her go,” Lark says softly behind me.

I don’t look back. Guilt churns, but I push it aside. Too many shifters. Too many unknowns.

What am I going to do now? I have never been in trouble before, and now I’m stuck in the Vampire Sector. I just want to go home. I can’t cross the scrubland because of the magic, and the border guards would spot me in seconds, and I cannot go through the checkpoint without my car.

I’m trapped.

I need my car. I can’t believe this is happening.

“Thank you for helping me.” I slow to a fast walk and slide the stake into my coat pocket.

I did it for House; she would have been upset if you had died.

“Whatever the reason, thank you. When daylight comes,” I mutter, “I will have to go back for my car, if they haven’t chopped it into pieces. Have you any idea what I should do, Beryl?”

Oh, now you ask me?she snaps, all snippy indignation.I thought if I spoke while I was in your pocket, you would set me on fire.

I groan. “Did I say that? I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Beryl, but I need your help. Running from shifters andvampires is all new to me; a few months ago, I was an ordinary human.” I straighten instinctively while she grumbles—like a very cross grandmother—about rude people.