Page 30

T om stamped his boots in the snow, hands jammed deep in his pockets. He was already regretting his dramatic exit – and it would have worked a whole lot better if his piece of shit car hadn’t picked tonight to die. The cold was seeping through his less-than-winterproof jacket, the weather had delayed the buses, he’d been waiting an hour already and the last bus wasn’t due for another twenty minutes.

He’d let his anger – so close to the surface these days – get the better of him. He knew he was being irrational. Erin had proven herself far from stupid a hundred times over. She might be reckless occasionally, but she wouldn’t risk her life without a bloody good reason.

It was just the way she’d thrown herself in with the vamps so easily! After everything they’d learned, she was still willing to overlook Murray and Wyatt’s history. Okay, maybe they hadn’t killed Jon or Maggie – but the real killer had taken inspiration from their methods. That was fucking damning enough.

If Jon had been here, he’d have said something to her long before now. He’d have known exactly what, too – probably something cutting wrapped in that disarming smile of his that made even the hardest truths easier to swallow. Of course, if Jon had been here, the vampires wouldn’t be. Underneath it all, that was what was fuelling his temper – but knowing it did nothing to dispel the unquiet feeling. Fuck, he missed him.

Tom’s phone trilled shrilly in his coat pocket, making him jump. He pulled it out, not recognising the number as he fumbled to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Thomas?” A female voice purred.

Tom stilled. “Who is this?” He paused. “Wyatt?”

“Of course.”

Tom heard the smile in her voice but didn’t understand it. Something wasn’t right – if there was a real problem, why call him and not Erin? They’d all been together a few bloody hours ago.

“What do you want?” he asked roughly, not bothering to hide his contempt.

“I want to discuss what we’re going to do about Nicholas. It’s not a good idea for us to let this… liaison continue. I know you agree.” She didn’t sound the same – none of that smooth, cultured bollocks he’d come to expect. It took a second for her words to sink in.

“I thought you’d all decided you trusted him?”

“Look, do you want my help or not?”

He considered it for less than a minute. If he left Erin to her own devices much longer, the whole thing was going to go to shit. He’d already tried talking to her about Murray’s feeding habits, about what happened after all this – and she’d brushed him off every time. Maybe this was his chance to get rid of the bastard once and for all. After that, his bloodsucking friends would have no reason to stick around – and Erin would forgive him, eventually. She’d have to. It was for the greater good, even if he had to work with one vamp to kill another.

“I’ll meet you,” he said, finally. “Where?”

“Don’t worry, I’m nearby.” She hung up.

Tom glared up and down the hill. The night was brighter than usual; harsh LED streetlights reflecting on the surface of the snow. The surrounding houses were silent, not even a twitch of a curtain to suggest life. Shadows pooled between each building, and he found himself staring into darkness, desperate for some sign of Wyatt to end his paranoia.

Crouching down, he fumbled with the straps of his backpack, remembering the short Damascus blade he always carried – the one he’d promised Erin he’d never leave home without. If it came to a fight, he didn’t stand a chance – but the weight of the weapon in his hands calmed his nerves, and he stowed it up his sleeve, the metal icy against his skin.

Straightening slowly, Tom sensed she’d snuck up on him – that unmistakable feeling of being watched, so much like the way Erin described her extra senses. She was standing on the other side of the street; her face hidden in shadow. He shivered.

“Thomas.” Her whisper carried on the frigid air. She lifted one pale hand, beckoning him closer, her movements liquid-smooth in a way that put him on edge.

“It – it’s Tomal, but I prefer Tom. ”

Pulling his backpack on, he crossed the road. Her dark hair whipped in the breeze, obscuring her features. Even though he’d seen her earlier in the evening, this was different. Alone with her, every instinct screamed at him to run. Instead, he forced himself forward. After all, he wasn’t supposed to feel good around vamps.

She kept her distance, and Tom was grateful for that small mercy.

“Tom, then.” He saw her teeth flash white in the dark. “Tommy. Do you trust me?”

“Not in the slightest,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “But if you’re willing to help me put an end to Murray, I—” He swallowed. “Well, I’m up for that.”

Her laugh echoed in the empty street. “Oh Tommy, you’re just delightful when you’re angry! All that hatred, all that lovely pain… I could drink it up.” She swayed closer, alien grace mixed with childlike excitement. “And now you’d work with me? After all that self-righteous preaching to poor little Erin?”

Tom’s mind raced as he tried to keep his expression neutral. Even with his limited exposure to Wyatt, this felt wrong. She was usually more… measured. This one was all show, no substance.

“What the hell do you know about my anger? Did Erin tell you that?”

She tapped the side of her nose twice. “I know a lot of things.”

“Did Murray—” The words caught in his throat. Wyatt was many things, but she wasn’t this… theatrical. “Maggie. He killed her, didn’t he? That’s why you think I’ll help? ”

She drifted into the lamplight, squinting into the brightness. “Ah…”

“Did he?” Tom insisted.

“Sweet little Margaret?” She clapped her hands together. “Oh, her screams were music… The way she begged—” She twirled in the snow, her face lifted to the sky. “Divine!”

Tom backed away despite himself. “No. No, not you.” He shook his head. “Why?”

She grew still, watching him with a sly look in her eye. “I’m not interested in explaining myself to you, human.” Her body seemed to relax all at once. “But then, come closer. Maybe you’ll persuade me.”

Tom didn’t move a muscle. She lifted her chin, and the light fell full onto her face – confirming what he’d half-known already. This… thing. It wasn’t Izzie Misery.

“You’re not her,” he whispered. He was an idiot for letting her trick him, even for a few minutes. He should have fucking known better.

She prowled closer, all semblance of humanity gone. “Does it matter? Aren’t we all the spawn of Satan? ‘Kill us all!’ That’s what you think, isn’t it?”

“It matters,” he breathed. “Who are you? Why did you do that to Maggie?”

The vamp pulled a face and rolled her eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. There’s a bigger picture you know – you can’t get so wrapped up in the details.” She shrugged. “Now it’s your turn to play your part.”

“What? ”

“There’s a role for everyone, Tommy boy – even me. Although this city isn’t what we were promised… Still. Erin’s little accident was fun. Until I had to give her back, anyway.” She pouted, sulking like a child. Tom couldn’t keep the disgust from his face.

“And now you . You’ll make a wonderful catalyst. After you die, that’ll be it.” She snapped her fingers, her high, trilling voice no longer sounding anything like Isabel.

“A catalyst for what?” Tom’s heart pounded as adrenaline flooded his body. This was it. Fight or flight. Either it was his moment to die or the moment he proved himself. He just didn’t have a fucking clue which it was going to be. But if he wanted a chance, he needed to keep her talking.

All of this went through his head in less than a second. And she was already yapping away again.

“You know – the big finale. And if it helps you die happy – you hate Murray, right? He’ll be gone, soon enough.” She took another step toward him, close enough to touch. “He has to play his part, of course, but… he’ll be dead before you know it. I’m just going to play with him, first.”

Tom slid his arm behind his back, dropping the dagger down from his sleeve and catching it by the handle, the way he’d practised it a thousand times with Jon.

“And me?” He took a step back, but she stepped forward in time with him.

She wiggled her eyebrows. “Well, I’m a vampire, Tommy—” She was holding his throat between her hands, squeezing, and he hadn’t even seen her move. “I plan to have a taste— ”

His training kicked in before his brain could catch up. The blade was already moving as her eyes closed, her split second of pleasure giving him the only opening he’d get. The mottled metal caught the streetlight as he swung it up into the pale flesh of her wrist – and fuck, the resistance as it hit bone was nothing like practising with Jon’s test dummies. But physics was physics, and momentum did the rest. Her lifeless hand fell to the ground with a muffled thud.

Her shriek hit a frequency that made Tom’s teeth ache – well outside normal human range. His brain catalogued that detail automatically, even as every survival instinct screamed at him to run.

She staggered back, fixated on the stump of her arm. Tom had heard vampires make some fucking awful sounds before, but this… shit. He scrambled backward, nearly losing his footing in the bloodied snow, the blade still raised between them like it would do him any good.

“You!” She lurched toward him, all pretence of beauty shattered. Then, with a sound that was pure animal fury, she vanished – gone before Tom’s mind could even process the movement. Her severed hand lay in the snow, fingers still twitching.

???

T he hand lay in a growing pool of dark blood, staining the white snow crimson. Tom’s own hands moved on autopilot – cleaning his blade, wrapping the evidence in his hoodie – while his mind struggled to process the impossible thing he’d just done. Pulling his jacket back on against the icy air and hastily knotting his scarf, he set off walking.

When he reached the main road, he flagged down the first taxi he saw and rattled off an address on the other side of the city – somewhere he’d never even been. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking as he slumped into the backseat, his heart starting to race again as the reality of what he’d just survived hit him properly.

Watching the buildings rush by the window, Tom pulled out his phone and called Erin. This was more important than their argument, he knew that much. The vamp whose hand was now residing in his backpack had not been Isabel – but the imposter’s words had told him enough to suspect his friend was in imminent danger. Murray getting his fangs into her still made him want to punch something, but after the last half hour… shit. He probably needed to suck it up and trust Isabel. She, at least, had done nothing to personally offend him.

Erin didn’t answer. The irony wasn’t lost on him, given how many of her calls he’d screened lately. But this time it was urgent.

“Fuck,” he said aloud. She must still be pissed. He checked the clock before stuffing the phone back into his jeans, wondering where the time had gone. Dawn was still a way off – the vampires should be awake.

The taxi pulled up outside the manor house, and Tom threw a twenty at the driver without waiting for his change. He strode through the open gates and up the gravel drive, but found himself hesitating at the doorbell. Holy shit, the place was massive. Like something out of a Jane Austen adaptation .

It didn’t feel right to be here without Erin. But then, what else could he do? He’d tried to contact her. Maybe she’d answer the phone if it was her bloodsucking boyfriend calling , he thought bitterly, jabbing the bell and hammering on the door without waiting for an answer.

A chime rang somewhere deep in the house. Seconds later, light spilled across the ground as someone twitched back a curtain upstairs. Tom backed off the doorstep, waving his arms. The door opened almost immediately.

“Tom.” Isabel’s clear voice cut through the chill, nothing like that of her doppelg?nger. “Where’s Erin?”

“I called her, she didn’t pick up.” Tom shifted his weight, the backpack suddenly heavy against his spine. “Can I come in?”

Isabel’s nostrils flared delicately as she lifted her chin. Her head cocked to one side, reminding Tom of a sparrow. “What do you have in your bag?”

“That’s what I need to talk to you about.” He glanced over his shoulder, fighting the urge to check if he’d been followed. “Would you please let me in? Some of us still feel the cold, you know.”

“Of course.” Isabel stepped back from the door, her dark eyes never leaving the bag.

Tom followed her into the hallway, momentarily stunned by the sheer size of it. Bloody hell – his entire flat would fit in this one room.

“Let me show you into the kitchen, and I will call Adam down to join us.” Her eyes flicked across him and she smiled. “I am sure you would feel safer with a more… human witness. ”

“Where’s Murray?” Tom asked, his wet boots squeaking against the polished floor as he followed her.

“Have I ever professed to be his keeper?” Isabel drawled, pushing through a heavy door.

The kitchen hit him with a wall of warmth. Dark cabinets stretched to the ceiling, handles gleaming against the wood. Steam curled from an abandoned mug of tea on the counter, Earl Grey mixing with vanilla in the air. The copper pans hanging in gleaming rows above the range made his throat tight – it was exactly the kind of kitchen his mum would have loved. The last thing he’d expected in a vampire’s lair.

Adam appeared in the doorway. “Tom,” he smiled, drawing out a stool. “Rather unexpected, I must say. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Tom dropped his backpack on the counter and took a deliberate step back. His heart had finally stopped racing, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to open it.

Adam shot a glance at Tom and Isabel.

“Do you mind?” She reached for the bag.

“Go for it,” Tom managed.

Isabel emptied the contents carefully, her poised precision somehow comforting now. Adam picked up the dagger while she unwrapped the hoodie with delicate hands. Her face went still, her dark eyes unreadable.

“What is this?”

“I’d have thought that was obvious,” Tom tried for a quip, but his voice was shaking. “I didn’t know what else to do with it.”

“Who did it belong to?” Adam asked, placing the blade back on the counter. “No, never mind that, what I mean to ask is… did you do this?”

“Shocking as it might sound, yeah. I did.” Tom tried not to look affronted at the disbelief on Adam’s face and instead stared at the hand. It was already decaying, the shrunken skin pulling the fingers into a claw.

Isabel exhaled. “This isn’t good, Tom. An act like this is not lightly done; it will demand vengeance. Even a vampire cannot heal from such a thing.”

“Pretty sure she was already intent on coming after us. I don’t see how much worse I could have made things,” Tom shrugged, but covered the hand again, unable to look at it.

“He has a point, Izzie,” Adam said.

“No. There is more to this than meets the eye. Why should she come after you ?” Isabel paced the length of the room.

“We thought she might, remember? I’m Erin’s friend—”

“Be that as it may, you haven’t been getting on of late. If I’m aware of it, the killers certainly are, given their tendency to know every secret we have attempted to hide,” she snapped.

Adam gave Tom an apologetic look, but spoke to Isabel: “Perhaps he knows something more than we do?”

Tom gaped at the two of them. “Mate, you know what I know. I’ve been buried in research for weeks and found fuck all. I’m good, but I’m not bloody magic.”

“Then what other reason could she have had?” Adam pressed. “Unless—”

“What?” Isabel and Tom spoke together.

“Tell me what happened. Every detail. ”

Tom recounted the story.

“She called you a catalyst?” A lilting voice spoke from the doorway. Murray stood there, leaning on the frame with a casual elegance Tom hated on sight. His face was flushed, his dark shirt wrinkled underneath his coat.

Adam looked up from the counter, his eyes narrowing as he took in his friend’s appearance. A knowing smile played at his lips. “Ah. I see you’ve been… otherwise occupied.”

Tom’s stomach lurched as he caught the implication. Great. Just what he needed – confirmation of exactly what Murray had been doing with his best friend.

Isabel pinched the bridge of her nose. “Really, Adam? Must you?”

But Murray’s usual composure had already cracked – a flash of pure joy mixed with something almost bashful that made him look disarmingly young. He actually ducked his head, running a hand through his already-mussed hair. It was somehow worse than his usual predatory grace. Tom had never seen him look so… human.

“Yes.” Tom’s earlier anger simmered under the surface, and the moment shattered.

Isabel drew him back to attention. “Did she say she planned to kill you?”

Tom shook his head. “She said something about having a taste. So… not specifically. I’m not sure she needed to state it outright, you know?”

“They intended you as the bait.” Adam examined his fingernails as he worked it out. “You were to be a lure to draw Erin to them.” He looked up sharply, letting out a frustrated laugh. “This evening’s planning, entirely wasted. They’re ahead of us again!”

His expression shifted suddenly, colour draining from his face. “But if they failed to secure Tom—?”

The kitchen’s warmth vanished. Murray’s knuckles went white against the doorframe, wooden splinters cracking under his grip. Tom’s heart dropped as the truth hit – they weren’t just ahead of them. They’d changed the game entirely.

“Where’s Erin?” The whisper scraped from Tom’s throat.

“I left her at the house—” Murray was gone before the words were fully out, vanishing so fast Tom didn’t even see him move.

Tom was already running for the door. Adam met him in the hall, car keys in hand.

Any other time, Tom would have been thrilled at how the Maserati ate up the road, Isabel weaving it expertly between the sparse traffic. As it was, no speed was fast enough to meet the sense of urgency he felt. Erin had to be alright. She had to be. After the last few days, thinking she was dead… and then he’d left her there, by herself. He’d never forgive himself if something had happened.

He called her phone again, but as the houses flew by on either side, it continued to ring to no one.