Kisses from Hell

hang out after school with a vampire.”

“Of course not. I—”

“I make you nervous. You’re trying to hide it, but you can’t help it. I get that. I expect that. Just have the balls to say so instead of laying down the post-escape ground rules before we even get to the post-escape stage.”

He opened his mouth. I wheeled and stalked off.

“Katiana,” he called, as loudly as he dared.

I kept going, walking fast, branches whipping behind me. He started coming after me, but after a minute, his footsteps stopped. I wasn’t surprised.

I shouldn’t be too hard on him. Can’t blame a guy for not wanting to get chummy with a parasite. At least he’d made the effort, which was more than I could say for Chad, and probably more than I’d be able to say for most people I’d meet in my life. Marguerite had two sets of friends: temporary ones who didn’t know what she was, and other vampires. This was just the first lesson in a class I’d be taking for a very long time, so I’d better —

A crack sounded behind me. Not a “branch underfoot” crack, but one that sent my insides ramming up into my throat. I spun just as another shot fired. Something buzzed past my ear. A bullet embedded itself in the tree…where my head had been just a second ago.

I hit the ground. Even as I dropped, I knew it was the wrong move. Bullets can’t kill me. Not lead. Not iron. Not holy-water-blessed silver. Don’t duck and hide. Move!

I scrambled into the undergrowth as another shot whizzed past.

Who—? Okay, that was the stupid question of the week. Who was shooting at me? The guy with a gun and, fortunately, without his glasses.

I should have known. God, I should have known. Chad was right. Neil had been too calm about the whole vampire situation. Completely cool with it…right up to the moment when he decided to get twitchy and send me stomping off.

If he wasn’t with the bounty hunters, though, who was he? What did he want with me? Did it matter? Not when there were bullets whipping past my head. I didn’t want to think of what kind of condition I’d be in, waiting for my brain to heal after getting a chunk blasted out.

I crawled along the ground as quietly as I could. The shots stopped. Silence fell as he listened for me.

I’d been raised for situations like this. Sad, I know, being prepared for a life that might involve bullets, bounty hunters, and unlawful confinement. But Marguerite had known what I was in for, and not preparing it for me would be as neglectful as not giving me a warm jacket for a Montreal winter.

As much self-defense training as I had, though, she’d drilled in one lesson above all others: Fighting back was a last resort. Whenever possible, run. For once, though, I had no intention of taking her advice.

I’d already been duped by Chad. Blinded by a desperate need for validation, for the friendship of kids who knew what I was. So I’d missed the signs with him, and now, even worse, with Neil. I wasn’t letting him get away with it.

So I circled back in the direction of the gunfire. After a few minutes, I caught a whispered voice. Neil on a cell phone? I hoped so, but when I heard a second voice, that hope fizzled.

If I faced more than just Neil, I should run. But I needed a closer look first. Needed to know what I was up against.

When I was close enough to see figures, I found a suitable tree and climbed. I’m good at that. I used to think I’d turn out to be a werecat—hence my nickname. Obviously not, but I’m still a damned fine climber.

I got high enough to be safe, then shimmied along a branch until I could see three figures. Two men I didn’t recognize, plus Neil. They were talking to him. I strained to listen. When I couldn’t hear anything, I inched out a little more. Then a little more.

The branch groaned. I froze. Neil’s gaze lifted. Our eyes met. His lips parted in a curse.

“What?” one of the guys said.

“Shot,” Neil said, quickly looking away. “I said I think you must have shot her. She’s gone for help.” A glance up my way and he said, louder, “Gone for help.”

He shifted, and I realized his arms were bound behind his back.

Well, that changed things. As much as I’d love to swoop in, be the hero, save the guy, I wasn’t an idiot. Two armed men versus one sixteen-year-old girl? Martial arts expert or not, the odds weren’t far enough in my favor to risk it. Better to get Marguerite for backup.

I retreated along the branch. It creaked…and this time, both men heard it.

A gun swung my way. I jumped to the next tree. I managed to catch a branch. Then my weight hit, and the branch gave a tremendous crack.

I dropped square onto one of Neil’s captors. He went down, me on top of him. Neil kicked the other guy in the back of the knees. He toppled. Another bone-crunching kick in the jaw sent him reeling back.

My opponent had fallen easily, but he wasn’t staying down. We rolled on the ground—him trying to grab his gun, me trying to sink in my fangs—then both achieved our goal at almost the same time. His weapon of choice was faster. Mine was scarier, and when my fangs sank in, he panicked, firing wildly, the bullet zooming past my arm. It was the last shot he fired.

Neil’s match was giving him even more trouble. Having both hands tied behind your back can do that. I took over. It was a short fight. All I had to do was flash my fangs, dripping blood, and you’d have thought I was a thousand-pound tiger with canines big enough to rip off his arm. The guy backpedaled. Neil kicked the gun out of his hand. I leaped on him. Game over.

As I rose from sedating the second guy, Neil said softly, “Why?”

“Because they’re assholes,” I said as I walked over to untie him. “Greedy assholes.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

He gave me a look that said I knew what he meant—why wouldn’t I feed?

I looked down at the unconscious man. Why indeed? Here it was—my last chance to see if it made a difference. With Chad, I could say that I didn’t like the idea of feeding on someone I’d met. Didn’t like the way it smacked of revenge. Really didn’t like the way it made me exactly the kind of bloodsucking monster he’d thought I was.

But why not these guys? Because I didn’t want Neil to see me? In those few minutes when I thought he’d betrayed me, I’d realized how badly I’d wanted him to be okay with me, with what I was. For someone my age to say, “I know what you are and I don’t care.”

Was this how I was going to live? Ashamed of what I was? Compelled to hide the worst of it, even from someone who knew the truth? No. I was still the same person I’d always been, and if people like Neil couldn’t handle the uglier parts of my new life, there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing I should do. What happened to me wasn’t my fault.

“I should,” I said.

“Yes, you should.”

“Will you—?” I cleared my throat. “Will you watch? I mean, not watch, but watch him, make sure he’s okay. Make sure I don’t…overdo it?”

“Good idea.”

I crouched over the guy, then maneuvered so Neil could monitor his vital signs while not seeing me drink. Awkward. Silly, too, and as soon as I started to drink, I forgot that. All those glasses of warmed-over blood were like day-old doughnuts. This was what I craved. What I needed. It wasn’t just a meal. It was…I don’t know how to describe it. Like eating the best food imaginable, while curled up in the most comfortable chair, listening to my favorite music.

I was so caught up in it that I stopped thinking about being careful. This man under me wasn’t a person. Wasn’t even food. He ceased to exist. I was swept away by the experience, and when that finally ebbed, and I realized what I was doing, I jumped back so fast that blood sprayed from his jugular.

“Seal—!” Neil began.

I bent and licked the wound. Under my tongue, I could still feel the guy’s pulse beating strong. I listened to his breathing, then lifted his eyelids as Neil said, “It’s okay, Katiana. I was watching. He’s fine.”

It felt like I’d been drinking for hours, but the guy barely even looked pale. I exhaled in relief.