white, slightly crooked in an adorable way, and
The normal ebb and flow of dancers continued, people falling back as they got tired or being pushed forward as they caught their second wind. Only the inner circle stayed mostly the same. Emphasis on the “mostly”—one of the couples was leaving, the woman laughing, the man giving a tight-lipped smile that completely hid his teeth.
Shit.
“Oopsie. I think I drank too many martinis. I need to go puke,” I said, and ducked away from a startled Mr. Mystery, shoving my way after the departing ghoul and the woman who was about to be his next victim. It was easier to get out than in, mostly because there were so many dancers happy to take my place, and to shove me farther toward the edge of the dance floor. I caught a glimpse of my former dance partner as he turned his attention to a redhead in a sparkly tube top, already forgetting about me. Oh, well. He wasn’t that hot.
Who was I kidding? He was insanely hot, and I haven’t been able to finish dancing with a guy—or “dancing” with a guy—since I got to New York. Still, with a woman in immediate mortal peril, this wasn’t the time to worry about my love life. I kept moving forward. I was surrounded enough that there was no way Sarah would pick up on my mental distress call, and it’s not like she could do anything about it if she did. Sarah’s not a fighter. All she really knows how to do is sit calmly and camouflage herself until the trouble goes away.
I finished pushing my way off the dance floor and stopped to scan the club, searching for my quarry. I finally spotted them by the front door, him helping her into her coat, her grinning ear to ear. Such a gentleman. Only once he got her outside and alone, all those good manners would go right out the window.
Out the window. Grabbing the nearest waitress by the shoulder, I gasped, saying with what I hoped was believable panic, “I wait tables at Dave’s. I called in sick tonight, and the boss’ asshole assistant just walked in. Is there another way out of here?”
Her initial irritation died when I invoked waitress solidarity. “The fire escape’s behind the DJ,” she said. “If he says anything, tell him Liz sent you.”
“Thank you, thank you!” I let her go and turned to run for the DJ. If I hurried, I just might make it before things got bloody.
If there was going to be gore, I wanted it on my own terms.
The DJ was so caught up in his groove that he never even looked up as I ran past him, shouldered open the fire escape door, and slipped out into the hot Manhattan night. Since the club was below street level, the fire escape was actually a steel stairway leading up to the street behind the club, which was narrow and grubby enough to have been considered an alley anywhere else in the world. Manhattan is not a city with space to spare.
I grabbed the rail and pulled myself along, careful to keep my heels from hitting the steps. Stealth isn’t one of my strong suits, but it has its place. Not that I needed to try all that hard; the music inside was loud enough that it was thumping through the wall, providing the outside world with a skeletal downbeat.
The street behind the club ran between two other, larger streets. As I watched, the ghoul came walking along the sidewalk, hand in hand with his date-slash-dinner. I tensed, ready to run after them. I never had the opportunity. The woman tugged at the ghoul’s arm, possibly in reaction to something he said, and started leading him toward the street where I was waiting.
It’s always nice when the thing you’re hunting decides to walk straight into an ambush. I waited for them to get close enough that he wouldn’t be able to run without me catching him. Then I stomped up the steps, my earlier attempts at stealth abandoned in favor of making as much noise as possible. “
The ghoul stared at me with gratifying surprise. His nightly order of club kid takeout, on the other hand, stepped away from him like he’d been set on fire. That wasn’t a bad idea. Too bad I didn’t have any matches. “You have a girlfriend?” she demanded, ignoring me in favor of glaring at the ghoul.
“Girlfriend?” I echoed, planting my hands on my hips. “Honey, he’s
That was all I had to say. “You
The ghoul watched her go, his shocked expression transforming slowly into anger. He swung his head around to face me, eyes narrowed. “You just made a big mistake, little girl. I wasn’t in the mood for blonde tonight.”
“Aw, too bad for you.” I simpered, tucking my hands behind me in a cutesy-pie gesture that concealed the act of drawing the knives from the back panel of my bustier. “See, this is how things are going to work tonight. I’m going to tell you to get out of town, just as fast as you can, and you’re going to agree with me. Won’t that be fun?”
“I have a better idea,” said the ghoul, and grinned. It was a horrible sight. Most of his teeth were blackened and broken, some all the way down to the gum line. He’d grow a new set in pretty short order—ghouls are like sharks, they’re constantly teething—but for the moment, he was basically gumming his victims to death. Not a good way to go. “I’m going to make sure there’s not enough of your body left for your family to identify.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.” Not the most original line in the world, but originality is secondary to not getting eaten when I’m in the field. I pulled my hands from behind my back and fell into a relaxed starting position, knives ready for throwing. “Come on, big guy. Let’s dance.”
A flicker of consternation crossed his face as he took in my reaction. Then it faded, and he lunged.
You’d think the predators of the world would eventually learn that it’s not a good idea to charge the sort of person who brings throwing knives to a dance club. Then again, if they were smart enough for that, they’d be smart enough to figure out that eating humans is a bad idea. You need meat, go to a steakhouse. You need it raw, go for sushi. But if you think your local nightclub is the place to go for an easy meal, you’d better be ready to pay for it. My first knife caught him in the forearm while he was in mid-lunge. My second knife killed what little was left of his forward momentum when it hit the inside of his leg, just above his left knee.
He went down hard.
Ghouls are badass hunters when all they’re dealing with is drunk, unarmed party girls, but they’re no match for somebody who knows what she’s doing. He was still trying to decide whether he wanted to clutch his knee, his arm, or both when I delivered a hard kick to his ribs, rolling him onto his back. I promptly placed one foot on his breastbone, keeping him there.
“Hi,” I said, pulling the gun from my thigh holster and aiming it at his face. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Verity, and you’re leaving.”
“What are you, Covenant?” he snarled.
“Worse,” I said, pressing my weight down a bit harder on his chest. He moaned as my steel-tipped heel bit into his skin. “I’m a Price. You’re interfering with my ecosystem. Two choices, buddy. Out of the city and off the humanitarian diet, or down into the sewers to feed the mole people. What’s your preference?”
Naturally, he chose to live another day, swearing he’d never touch living human flesh again. We’d never tangled with him before, so the family code said I had to let him off with a stern warning. If we heard about him so much as thinking the words “long pork” ever again, we’d come down on him so hard he’d barely have time to shit himself before he shuffled off this mortal coil. I was feeling generous, and he hadn’t actually managed to bleed on me. I told him he had forty-eight hours to get out of New York City entirely.
My name is Verity Price. I’m a cryptozoologist. And this is why I can never get a goddamn date on a Saturday night.
Two
