Page 30 of Will It Hurt?

Aisla

Fucking hell, what now?

She was tracking me. I knew she was.

The paralysis spell wouldn’t hold for long. Maybe a minute. Perhaps two. With a vamp as strong as her, maybe even thirty seconds. A chill slithered through me at the thought that I may be dead in the next minute.

Between the ice and snow, I’d slipped twice. My knees had taken the brunt of the hit, and I knew I’d feel it tomorrow.

Fuck.

My throat throbbed, heavy with the indents of her fingers.

She could have killed me in an instant if she’d wanted to—she could’ve snapped my neck like it was nothing more than a cream cracker.

But she wanted to watch me suffer. She wanted to see the life drain from my eyes as she squeezed harder with every passing second…

Anger slithered up my spine—righteous and insistent.

I was a protected personnel of the High Coven, damn it!

A respected, if not talented, wytch. I wasn’t some measly prey for this vamp to play with like a sad little mouse caught in a trap.

If she wanted my blood, she was going to have to try a hell of a lot harder.

I’d heard about undead like her—wytch hunters who’d use every means possible to chase a blood high. But I’d never assumed they’d do something like this. This type of deception was far too elaborate. Hunters were getting more pathetic by the day.

I slid around a corner, craving the safety of a more public space. But the bridge that connected the old and new town was empty save for a homeless man who was cocooned in a sleeping bag.

In this wide open space, I was a running target. Every step was a gamble, each corner a potential trap.

This would be a perfect time to recall the invisibility spell!

The thought was accompanied by a flash of a memory—standing in a fireborn circle with Brodie and Maia as Elder Marianna’s voice guided us through the incantations.

I clung to the memory, willing the details to solidify.

What were the words? The single fucking incantation that would unlock the spell and make me disappear?

I drew a blank as I leapt over several piles of garbage left behind by the bin strikes.

It would be absolutely valid to be judged for my carelessness. In my defense, however, invisibility was a rudimentary spell that I didn’t use often. Or ever.

For people who hadn’t been touched my magick, an invisibility spell was equivalent to an excel formula they were taught on their first day of work. But after a decade, would anyone really remember such a formula? Could they be blamed for forgetting it?

Granted, excel formulas didn’t save lives, but whatever.

Below the bridge, the Christmas market was still going strong.

A flurry of lights flashed in the distance as I slid over the ice, my boots struggling to grip the ground.

A scream threatened to tear from my throat as something moved in the corner of my eye, but it was only the Starflyer rising into the misty sky with a few poor souls clinging to the metal for dear life .

My calves burned, the muscles protesting with each step. Curse the moon, why hadn’t I done more cardio?! I’d only been running for five minutes…

The bridge stretched out in long shadows. As I passed the darkened pavement where the street lights didn’t meet, I was convinced it would be my end.

It was a mistake coming up here—fuck, it could cost me my life.

A large black recycling bin stood in my way as I ducked around the edge of the bridge.

I collided with it head-first, my nose taking the brunt of the impact.

A shelf of gathered snow fell on my head and wriggled its way under my coat.

I stifled a scream of pain and shoved away quickly.

A recycling bin wouldn’t be my cause of death today.

Nestled at the end of the bridge, the spiral stairs were barely visible, but I knew the shortcut like the back of my hand.

As I took the stairs two at a time—who the fuck installed marble steps in a place that was prone to rain?

—I wondered if the vamp was even following me.

The spell couldn’t have held out that long.

I knew my magick wasn’t strong enough for that.

And the pounding at the back of my head told me I was leaving a bloody scent trail behind.

Surely, if she was tracking me, she would’ve found me by now…

I wasn’t taking the chance that she might just be a shit hunter.

From everything I’d learned about the undead—and that was plenty, fact or fiction—I knew that they were persistent.

Perhaps immortality made them believe that giving up was not an option.

And where blood was concerned, they were like stubborn hounds.

I did my best to cover my trail, but even with a hood pulled over my head and the laces strapped tight, she would find me.

But would she be able to track me in a large crowd ?

The Christmas market beckoned, lit up in golds and reds and greens. From a distance, it looked like nothing more than a tangled mess of lights and bustling crowds.

Tangled was exactly what I needed. Maybe I could weave my scent through hundreds of others in this crowd and lose her. If I couldn’t outrun the monster, I might as well try to outsmart her.

I stumbled into the market, my footsteps faltering as I looked around, trying to figure out the best way to hide in plain sight. The streets were packed, and I weaved through the throng, desperately seeking cover.

My chest tightened with each glance over my shoulder.

Every laugh, every chime of bells, seemed to echo too loudly, making my ears ring when I needed to be on high alert.

A figure darted past me, brushing my arm with the back of their coat. The quick touch made me freeze, and for a moment, I felt my knees buckle.

But no— it wasn’t her.

I wondered why the indents on my throat pulsed like it had been. The mere suggestion of her presence brought the pressure of her fingers rushing back. I swallowed painfully, fighting the bruises along my throat.

I refused to let the reassuring comfort of other people lull me into a state of carelessness. The festive distractions were endless, but I forced myself to study every shadow and listen to every sharp footstep.

I tried to camouflage myself between the scents of deep fried haggis balls and hot toddies. Surely she wouldn’t be able to pick my scent out of all this…

A high shriek cut into the marrow of my bones. Before I could turn, a scented sleeve brushed mine, attached to a gaggle of girls who had wrapped thick scarves around their heads to shield themselves from the snow.

Tourists.

“So sorry!” one of them said, waving an ungloved hand at me. “We were wondering if you could help us with a picture.”

Great.

I could say no and walk away. It would be easy enough to disappear into the crowd. But one of them was already handing me her phone with a smile so wide it took up most of her face.

Fine.

With a tight smile of my own that probably looked like a grimace, I took off my gloves and stuffed them into my pocket. It was easy enough to snap a couple pictures.

“Wait!” she said when I moved to hand the phone back. “Different pose!”

I wondered if they saw my eyes roll from a few feet away. As they shuffled around to get into position, clutching at each other for balance, I continued snapping pictures they’d probably delete seconds after they saw it.

My fingers shook—in my defense, I was running from a hunter who wanted to drain me dry—and most of the photos would be a blurry mess with a gold sheen from the Christmas lights. But as the girls got into position for one last fun snap, I jabbed the button and froze.

There, in the corner of the screen, was a flash of a white face and brown coat that made my heart turn to ice.

I looked up from the screen, certain I would see those rage-filled eyes staring back at me, but she was nowhere to be seen.

I swiveled around, my heartbeat pounding in my ears, searching every dark nook in the market .

“Hey!” The girl waved a hand in front of my face. “Are you okay? Shit, you’re bleeding. Ohmygod! ”

Her eyes widened as she stared at my jaw. I touched my fingers to it, and true enough, it came away smeared in red.

This couldn’t be good. No wonder I was now a homing signal for the fucking vamp.

I thrust the phone back into her hands and took off into the crowd. The girl called after me, but I had more pressing things to worry about than explaining myself to a group of tourists.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Why couldn’t I remember the moon-cursed invisibility spell?! If I died tonight, it would be my own fault for not paying attention to rudimentary schooling.

A shadow flickered at the corner of my eye and without warning, the vamp slammed into me, forcing the breath from my lungs.

Trapped.

Her lean frame might as well have been weighed down by a thousand bricks. She pinned me against the grimy sandstone behind a ticket booth, leaving no room for movement. Her scent washed over me—-pine and musk and something sweet coating my tongue as I dragged in a breath.

Curse it all!

She could kill me now. Snap my neck. Crush my spine. Rip my head from my body.

Or she could drain me.

Something hard and hot knotted in my belly at the thought. I refused to acknowledge it, trying to push the strange feeling aside, but it spread through my chest, my breasts, my shoulders, my arms, unleashing pinpricks wherever it went.

Fuck.

Was this compulsion? It had to be. It must be .

Because nothing else could explain this strange new sensation running rampant through me. Under her unyielding grip, my toes curled in my boots even as fear made my breaths gust rapidly in the air.

The orange fairground lights at the back of her head and the snow coming down in soft flakes made everything hazy.