Drake Chronicles: 03 Out for Blood (13 page)

He raised his glass to me and eased out of the line, leaving a gap and a better view of the people on his other side.

I choked on the giggle.

“What the hel are you doing here?” I scowled at Quinn.

It was just my luck that he was lounging there with a pretty girl on each arm. No wonder he hadn’t answered my text message.

And worse, he would catch Part 2 of the plan, in which I was soon going to make an ass of myself, and he’d miss Part 3, in which I redeemed myself by kicking actual ass.

“Buffy.” He grinned, eyes flaring when he took in my short dress and daring neckline. I forced myself not to blush or fidget. I lifted my chin, daring him to make a single comment.

“Your name’s Buffy?” The girl on his left sneered.

The other girl pinched her. “Don’t be rude.” She smiled at me apologetical y.

Quinn didn’t look away from me once during the whole exchange. I raised an eyebrow.

“Shouldn’t you be tucked away safely in your little bed?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a red velvet jacket and talking with a bad European accent?” I shot back.

“Are you real y from Europe?” the first girl asked, misunderstanding. She ran her finger along his col ar. “Do you live in a castle?” I snorted and turned away, taking my shot glass off the sticky counter. Quinn’s hand closed lightly around my wrist.

“You’re not legal,” he said, nodding at the Kahlua.

“My ID says differently,” I assured him with a bland smile. I wasn’t about to tel him that the drink was just for show. I needed to appear drunk.
Appear
being the operative word, because a drunk hunter was a dead hunter.

He leaned in, tucking my hair behind my ear and whispering so that only I could hear. His girlfriends frowned. Three guys and a girl near the band seemed suddenly interested in us.

“Where do you keep a stake in a dress like that?” I angled my head to whisper back, half smiling. “Strapped to my thigh.” He drew back sharply, blue eyes burning. I smirked and flounced away. I could feel him watching me the entire way back to my table. The others had gotten their Cokes already and they drank them slowly, looking relaxed. Only I knew each of them had stakes inside their jackets, Hypnos in their sleeves, and blades in the soles of their boots.

I tossed back my shot with a flourish. I could hardly convince a vampire I was drunk if he couldn’t smel alcohol on my breath.

Spencer frowned at me. “You know how you get when you drink,” he said loudly.

I shrugged, laughed. “I’m just having fun. You should try it sometime.” Under my breath I added, “The group by the stage, possibly two guys who went up to the second floor.” I reached for the whiskey sour he’d left on the table, surreptitiously spil ing most of it on the table.

“How many shots have you had?” Jason demanded.

“Just the one. Don’t be such a spoilsport.
God.
” I stumbled, just a little. Jason opened my purse and took out the three shot glasses I’d slipped in there before leaving. He made a big production of tossing them on the table and looking disgusted. I just laughed and prayed Quinn was too far away, too distracted by the pretty girls throwing themselves at him, to notice me.

“You promised you wouldn’t drink,” Chloe said.

“You guys are
lame
,” I said, too loudly. A few heads turned our way. Chloe hid a gleam of satisfaction behind a fake worried scowl. I twirled away. “I’m going to dance if you’re al going to be such boring old ladies.” This was the part I hated the most: dancing by myself like an idiot.

But it worked every time.

I twirled and shook my hips and giggled when I tripped into someone leaning against the amps. He caught me easily, smiling. His hands were cold, his eyes a pale hazel.

Vampire.

“I’m so sorry,” I simpered at him.

“That’s okay,” he replied, stil holding onto my arm. He was good, I’d give him that.

His expression was open and guileless. He successful y avoided the silky menace that was always such a dead giveaway. With his blond hair and white T-shirt he looked like a local col ege student, the athletic sort with lots of interesting arm muscles and strong shoulders. Just the type a drunk underage high school student would flirt with.

I hated flirting.

“Thanks for catching me,” I said, stepping closer. “My name’s Amber.”

“Of course it is.” I pretended not to understand what he meant by that. “It’s a very pretty name.”

Ha.

“Your friends appear to be ditching you,” he added. His own friends pressed closer. I turned my head to see Chloe and the others leaving.

I pouted. “They’re no fun.”

He was stil holding on to my elbow. “We were just leaving too. They’re shutting the doors in half an hour but there’s a party down the street.” He drew his hand down my arm. “Want to come with us, Amber?”

Gotcha, you undead bastards.

I bit my lip, tilted my head. “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Matthew.” He nodded to his friends. “That’s Nigel, Paul, Sam, and Belinda.” There were a lot of teeth suddenly gleaming at me. The smiles were calculating.

Amber, fictional though she might be, would have found them charming and fun. So I smiled back.

“Okay, I guess.” The music pulsed between us. “Is it far?”

“Not at al .” His hand moved to my lower back, pressing me forward and out the door. I had just enough time to glance at the bar. Quinn was gone.

Outside, the wind had cooled. Litter skittered along the curb. Matthew led us down the street, toward the dark al eys, away from the pubs and restaurants, just as we’d planned. I hesitated.

“Come on,” he said. “I thought you wanted to have some fun.” Nigel laughed. “Yeah, Amber, don’t wimp out on us now.” I shrugged and let them convince me. The others would be positioned around the old glass factory. Jenna would likely be on a rooftop somewhere. We turned a corner, effectively shielding us from the parts of town stil inhabited to the stretch of abandoned warehouses. Our footsteps echoed. The streetlights were dim.

Amber was an idiot.

But Chloe was a bigger idiot.

Chloe knew the plan.

It was her bloody idea in the first place to corner the vampires on the other side of the glass factory where there was an abandoned parking lot ful of weeds, a broken-down wal for cover, and nothing else.

Not, I repeat,
not
by the road where anyone might drive by. It was unlikely, true, but stil possible.

And yet there she was, hol ering like a lunatic and launching herself at us.

I didn’t know where the others were, beyond
not here
and not close enough to be of any immediate help. What had Spencer been thinking, to let her run off on her own?

She managed to knock Nigel off his feet, at least. She’d improved in the last week, but not enough to take on five vampires and survive, even with my help. I took advantage of the brief moment of surprise when the vampires whirled to see what crazy animal had pounced on their friend. I stepped back and liberated the stake from my thigh holster. Matthew glanced at me and licked his lips.

“Wel , now, Amber,” he said as his fangs protruded from his gums. “Aren’t you suddenly more interesting.”

I didn’t waste my breath answering him. The other four circled Chloe, showing their own fangs.

If we lived through this, I was so going to kil her.

I only had the one stake. If I used it on Matthew, it left Chloe unprotected. And she was already on her knees, a hole ripped in her jeans, blood on her lip. She used her wrist harness to send a stake through Nigel’s heart. He crumbled into ash. Go, Chloe.

Of course, now the rest of them were real y pissed.

And I couldn’t reach her.

Our teachers were always going on about how vampires would chase you if you ran away; the predator in them found it hard to resist the hunt.

I real y hoped they were right about that.

As backup plans went, this one kind of sucked.

I turned and ran, pausing only to shoot Matthew the most taunting smirk I could manage. Because teasing an angry vampire is always such a good idea.

I ran fast.

Matthew, of course, was faster. Much, much faster. And so were his friends.

On the plus side, it left Chloe only one vampire to deal with, and he was fairly smal .

On the minus side, it left me three.

I didn’t make it to the glass factory parking lot, but I was close enough that a good yel should alert the others, if there wasn’t a cold pale hand currently squeezing my trachea. I gagged on a breath, eyes burning. I clawed at the hand out of instinct, even though I knew it wouldn’t do me any good. When I started to see spots, my training kicked back in.

I had a perfectly good stake.

I shoved it through Matthew’s chest as hard as I could. My vision was gray and watery and lack of oxygen was becoming a serious issue. I didn’t quite get his heart; I was an inch or so shy on the left. But at least it hurt him enough that he released me with a yel . Blood wel ed around the stake, stil sticking out of his rib cage, while I heaved air into my screaming lungs. I also turned to deliver a kick to his wound with the heel of my shoe. He didn’t turn to dust but he stumbled out of reach. And then Belinda had me by the hair, wrapping it around her wrist and yanking savagely.

I could al but hear Grandpa’s grumble of disapproval.

Why did a certain kind of girl always go for the hair?

My neck muscles stretched near to breaking, my head angled painful y to the side, exposing my jugular. Saliva dripped on my arm and onto the ground. She was drooling. Gross.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Matthew said, approaching me. He plucked the stake out of his flesh as if it were a thorn off a rosebush. Red petals of blood scattered around him. Belinda held me steady for him, giving into the temptation of my blood by nipping me once. It was no worse than a bee sting but I recoiled, going cold down to my bones. She licked at the tiny puncture marks as if I was bleeding ice cream.

“Ew,” I tried to elbow her. “Get off me.”

I couldn’t see how Chloe was doing, couldn’t even hear her. I could only see Matthew’s sharp teeth and the way he twirled the bloody stake over his knuckles, like a street juggler. Even his polo shirt was suddenly menacing.

“Ever wonder how it feels to get one of these in the heart?” he asked pleasantly.

I tried to shrink back, even as Belinda forced me forward. I crushed her instep.

She didn’t let me go but she did swear viciously, which I enjoyed.

Where the hel was everyone?

“It seems only fair,” Matthew continued. “A bit of karma, if you wil .” He twirled the stake again. “Shal we see how long you scream?”

“Are you ever going to shut up?” I snapped, fear and irritation fil ing me in equal measures. “This isn’t your monologue, Hamlet. It’s the battle scene, in case you’ve forgotten.”

His eyes narrowed so fast they nearly sparked. They were the color of honey on fire. One of the others growled like an animal, low in his throat. It made al the hairs on my arms stand straight up.

I was going to die for making fun of Shakespeare.

My English Lit professor would be so proud.

And then Matthew was screaming.

The stake clattered at my feet but I couldn’t reach it. I used Belinda’s iron grip to secure a pivot that knocked Sam off both his feet as he came at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Matthew hit the ground, broken glass grinding under his weight. There was a blur of movement and then the shadow coalesced into a dark shirt, pale skin, and blue eyes like burning gasoline.

Quinn.

I had no idea where he’d come from and I didn’t have time to wonder about it.

Belinda was clacking her teeth at me.

“I said”—I elbowed her in the nose, hearing bone snap—“get”—I used the side of my hand to chop at her wrist—“off!” And then I dropped, pul ing her off balance so that she stumbled. I used the momentum of a rol to toss her over. I managed to stretch just enough to reach the stake. I blocked Belinda’s second attack, mostly by happy accident. I twisted the stake and shoved it as hard as I could. She went to ash and drifted over the dirty pavement.

Matthew howled. He reared up furiously, slashing at Quinn with a penknife. I threw a rock at his head and kicked back to trip Paul before he could make a grab for me.

Quinn leaned so far back his hair brushed the ground. He went into the turn completely and landed beside me.

“Back-to-back,” he ordered, but I was already pressing my shoulder blades against his. Standard hand-to-hand combat stance.

He was grinning.

I rol ed my eyes. “How is this fun for you?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Not ash yet.”

“I can fix that,” Matthew hissed.

“You’re right,” Quinn said conversational y to me, as if we weren’t currently outnumbered and fighting for our lives. “This one just won’t shut up.” Quinn’s punch was so fast I heard the crack of one of Matthew’s fangs against Quinn’s knuckle. I didn’t see it but the sound was unique. “Let me help you with that.”

“You broke my tooth!” Matthew spat blood, the whites of his eyes going red with rage. It was just distracting enough that I missed Paul’s fist, until it caught my cheekbone. Pain bloomed over my face. I’d have a wicked bruise by morning. I stumbled back, bumping Quinn’s arm. He flicked a glance over his shoulder.

“Shit,” he said.”Your face.”

“Ow.” I agreed.

“Where the hel are your friends?”

“I don’t know.” But at least al the vampires were attacking us, not Chloe. Right now I wanted to kil her myself. I fumbled for the silver whistle around my neck, hanging next to the Drake coronation medal ion. I only wore it on bait-nights. It looked like a little silver pendant but it was much more useful. I blew into it and the shril whistle pierced the night.

“I don’t even want to know,” Quinn muttered, moving so fast he was a dark shadowy blur like ink spil ed in the shape of a man. He was fighting off al three vampires as best he could, circling me protectively like dark fog.

“Let me help,” I shouted.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’m
fine
.” I insisted. The day one little punch, vampiric or not, took me out of an entire fight was the night I was no longer a Wild. “Let me in,” I adjusted the hold on my stake, slippery with Matthew’s blood. My throat hurt from being strangled, my face hurt from being punched, and we were surrounded.