Page 15

H arlow stood there waiting with Foxx for Gavin to return from his scouting. The vampire was rocking back and forth where he stood, his hands clenching and unclenching. Foxx’s claws were partly drawn, the man clearly anxious to get things going.

For once, the vampire was wearing an outfit that had already been stained with blood. Harlow just wished he hadn’t known exactly where most of the stains had come from.

The spackling of rusty brown that was on the bright yellow sweater with illustrated suns, seeming to coat the neckline, along with the similar splatter on the green overalls, were from a blood bag bursting.

The two handprints on his arms, and the matching but much more smeared ones on the back, came from Harlow. The former being when he’d stopped the man from collapsing, and the latter from when he’d grabbed the man and tried to drain him dry.

While Foxx continued to shift on his feet, Harlow found his gaze drawn to one of the handprints. His whole body went stiff as the scene in front of him changed. He was back in that house again, but instead of slaughtering, he was just standing in the front living room, surrounded by dead bodies and the smell of blood. He felt the same hunger he’d had at the time, yet he was oddly calm. The calm only lasted for a moment before a sound drew him to the window, and he saw Foxx approaching in his Jeep.

“Interesting, isn’t it? ”

When the staticky unknown male voice tauntingly trickled through his mind, Harlow’s vision slammed back to normal. He took an unsteady step back as he found himself looking into Foxx’s concerned face, the man’s hands on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, did…my outfit set you off?”

“I…” Harlow gingerly brushed the vampire’s hands away. “One of the handprints, but I…” He hesitated.

Foxx frowned. “What?”

He rubbed his face, shaking his head. “Nothing. I just finally saw you. You were driving up to the house, and I was watching you through a crack in the curtains, and then I heard…something that doesn’t make sense.”

And it didn’t. Because each time he had a flashback, he’d felt the urge to feed and kill, along with this deep hunger. It seemed to be spurred on by the presence of the vampires he’d been tearing apart.

But in that moment, before Foxx had appeared, the killing rage had been gone, like there hadn’t been a target near enough to trigger him. It had clearly flared to life the moment he spotted Foxx. So much so, Harlow now had no doubt that even if, by the time the vampire had arrived, his urges were more calculated—with him being willing to hunt and ambush his prey rather than just attack—he would have killed the man if he hadn’t regained consciousness.

Yet, on hearing the voice—a voice that should have set him off further—he’d felt no change. Harlow hadn’t felt anyone else near him in the house at that moment. No heartbeats, except for Micah’s in a different room, no breathing, no signs of any other life at all.

“What did you hear?”

“A voice.”

The vampire blinked, his head tilting. “But you were the only one left in the house besides Micah. How far off did you spot me? You must have not been watching for long. Though I may have been too panicked to notice if you were moving around.”

“I know, and I can tell you now that I didn’t feel anyone in there with me besides Micah, which is why it doesn’t make sense. As for how long I watched, I don’t know. The flashback cut off when I heard the voice. You were still a distance away at the time, but you were close enough to notice a third person. ”

“What did they say?”

“ ‘Interesting, isn’t it?’ ”

“‘Interesting, isn’t it?’” Foxx repeated slowly, his frown deepening. “Did you recognize the voice?”

“No, not as far as I can recall. It was male, the tone taunting yet…oddly staticky, like it was coming out of a radio, from a station that was about to lose signal. But for some reason, I just know it didn’t come from one. It sounded like the person was right next to me.”

The man pursed his lips. “That’s slightly concerning, but…until you see more, I’m not sure what to make of it.”

Harlow sighed. “Let’s just pretend it was my mind fucking up, until we have any proof I wasn’t just hearing voices.”

Foxx snorted. “I’d much prefer to assume it’s real over you hearing shit, as that would be a bad development for you, and likely me.”

“No doubt.” He chuckled, glancing off to the left as Gavin entered his hearing range.

Moments later, the dragon reappeared, rushing towards them through the dense forest. It was odd how many trees there were on an old farm. He wasn’t sure even natural overgrowth and time would account for all of it.

“So?” Harlow asked as Gavin came to a stop.

The man smirked. “All human: sixty-eight inside, eight outside. Those outside have guns, AK-47s, modified to be fully automatic, so obviously they are the guards. I'm not sure if the humans inside have any, as I didn’t get that close, but it's best to assume that some may. There are no cameras, as I said before.”

“Why are there so many trees?” He couldn’t help but ask. Even if it didn’t matter, he figured the man would know.

“Ah, this place sat empty for a long ass while, so many of them were already here, but some were planted recently. I'm guessing they wanted to thicken up the coverage.”

“Fuck the trees, where are the guards?” Foxx huffed impatiently.

“Two on each of the four doors, which have all been changed from double doors to large, single sliding metal ones. I figured we’d each pick a door, aside from the front, kill the guards, jam the doors shut, and meet up at the front .

“Whoever gets there first kills the humans there. Then we go in and kill everyone. The bay doors on the front were boarded up with metal panels, so we won’t have to worry about them trying to escape by using those.”

Harlow scoffed. “Really? They’re just guarding the doors? Not even patrolling?”

“They probably don't have a clue what they are doing. It’s not exactly like they can put a job listing in the paper looking for experienced guards for their crazy religious cult. Now, loud or quiet?” Foxx asked, his eyes shining for the first time since Charity’s death.

“It would be a bit hard to quietly break three metal doors without notice.” He smirked. “But you can be as loud as you want, Brat. There's no one around for miles. Just don’t get shot, as those bullets are likely silver and filled with holy water. Which won’t hurt Gavin, as far as I know, as he has?—”

“Scales,” Gavin interrupted with a laugh.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes…scales. I don’t know how it'd feel if I got hit, but they definitely would hurt you.”

Foxx snorted. “It will hurt you because they are bullets, but probably just like…well, not human normal, but worse than a vampire getting shot with a regular bullet.”

“Right, neither of us should get shot. Anyway, pick a door, take down the guards as loudly as you want, break the door, and then meet up front and we can head in.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Gavin chimed.

Foxx eyed them, a smile spreading across his face before giggling. “Race you!” he shouted, taking off.

Harlow grinned as he followed the man’s movements with his eyes. Turns out, killing was just what Foxx needed to feel better. Which was something that was good for him to know for the future.

He glanced at Gavin when the dragon snickered. “He fully has you, doesn’t he?”

“Shut up,” Harlow grunted, before taking off after the vampire.