How the hell she was going to find a way into a super-paranoid vampire hunter’s private home—which was no doubt protected by all kinds of technology and magic—was something that Theo had left for Moth to figure out for herself.
Perfect.
She prowled the perimeter of the apartment block on the eastern edge of Ironbridge, wondering why a killer would choose somewhere like this to hole up. It was too high profile—way too up-market for a person who should, by rights, want to keep his head down and his business private. On the other hand, he probably made a ton of money doing what he did, so why not live in style? It wasn’t like a vampire hunter had a high life-expectancy.
Moth ran her fingers over the cool metal of the intercom, wondering where Thomas Murdoch was hunting tonight.
“You need to get in?” The voice came from directly behind her, and Moth couldn’t believe she hadn’t sensed anybody approach. She was losing her touch.
She swung around to face a young guy, probably similar in age to her—before she was turned—with blond spiky hair and intense dark eyes. She couldn’t tell what color they were, even under the apartment-block security lights, but that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that he was freaking gorgeous. And tall—much taller than her.
The guy activated the electronic entry pad with a black fob hanging from his keyring. He gave her a strange look as he opened the door, probably because she was just staring at him. Moth wondered if she had drool running from the corner of her mouth.
“After you,” he said.
“Thanks.” This wasn’t exactly how Moth had planned on entering the building, but what could she do? She couldn’t be rude, not when he was so goddamn cute, and maybe this would turn out to be easier than climbing the outside wall.
She unzipped the leather jacket and noisily cracked her knuckles, immediately regretting the habitual action. It wasn’t her most feminine trait. She ventured further into the lobby … and slammed on the brakes as she walked past a huge copper-framed mirror.
He gave her that look again, but headed for the far end of the foyer and hit the elevator call button. As soon as he disappeared inside, Moth scampered up the stairs and headed to the top floor. It figured that a kick-ass vampire hunter would live at the top of a ten-storey building. Luckily for her, endurance wasn’t an issue since turning vamp.
Tenth floor, and the plush-carpeted hallway was quiet. No mirrors here—just ornate wood paneling lining the walls and low-key lighting humming quietly above her head. Moth tried not to think about the stranger who had let her in; his dark eyes seemed to burn in her mind, and it disturbed her that someone who was clearly only human could affect her that much. She’d spent so many years being drawn to Theo that she’d forgotten what it was like to feel a genuine spark of attraction for anyone else. She wondered who the young guy was and which apartment he lived in.
Moth shook her head, reminding herself how furious Theo would be if she screwed up. If she wanted to get out of Ironbridge and enjoy her last couple months of freedom, she needed to succeed. She shivered as she walked underneath an air-conditioning unit that had been left running, glad that she’d changed into black jeans when she’d stopped at one of Theo’s dens for a snack. Thankfully, despite his aversion to “bottled blood” (his name for the hospital supplies some vampires preferred to drink), he didn’t stop his people from indulging their morals.
The door to apartment 1016 was at the far end of the corridor, set back in its own alcove. The bright copper handle stood out against dark wood, and Moth’s heart began to pound when she noticed that the door stood open. Just a crack, but she still caught a glimpse of burgundy carpet and a small entry hall through the narrow gap. She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and contemplated this whole situation being a setup.
Licking her lips and wishing that being a vampire meant she didn’t have to feel that human rush of adrenalin, Moth edged closer, trying to ignore the fear and excitement pulsing in her stomach. She pushed
A sharp pain pierced the back of her neck, and suddenly she was falling … falling to the floor and beyond into darkness.
Moth opened her eyes but immediately regretted it, hissing in pain at the bright light shining in her face. She tried to move, but realized her arms were secured behind her with something hard and cool. Something that, although cold, still burned the bare flesh of her arms.
“Don’t struggle, you’ll hurt yourself.”
Moth squinted in the direction of the male voice, but it was difficult to make out her surroundings with the spotlight aimed at her. The heat was making her skin itch, and her lips were dry and cracked. Someone had removed the leather jacket, leaving her in the tight black T-shirt that displayed a blood-red picture of Dr. Frank N. Furter from
She almost cried with relief when the solar lamp—or whatever it was—switched off, leaving the room illuminated by flickering candlelight.
Moth tried to stand, but realized her legs were bound by heavy silver chains. At least her jeans offered some protection. She frowned, wondering why the silver that she assumed bound her wrists was so painful. Vampires were sensitive to silver, but it wasn’t usually this bad. More like an irritating allergy—and even then, only with really good-quality silver.
She gazed at the suspiciously familiar-looking young man who was watching her. The first thing she noticed about him was that he held some kind of crossbow trained on her, and it was aimed straight at her heart.
He said, “The silver chains and handcuffs are blessed, that’s why it hurts.”
Moth scowled. “That’s just mythology.”
“So, that’s why your wrists are burning?” His mouth twitched. “You must be a girl of faith for it to be so painful. Ironic, huh?”
“Who are you?” Moth resisted the temptation to bare her fangs, just in case he was simply a nutjob who didn’t really know what he was talking about. Considering the blessed silver chains and the crossbow, she doubted that was true, but it offered some comfort while her mind raced to figure a way out of here.
The young guy with spiky blond hair and dark eyes leaned forward as he smiled at her, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. His face was flooded with candlelight.
“You,” whispered Moth.
“Jason Murdoch, at your service. Sorry that Dad couldn’t be here to say ‘hi.’”
“You’re Thomas Murdoch’s
He nodded, looking pleased that she’d figured it out. “Jace. I’d shake your hand, but you’re a little tied up over there.”
Moth was fighting a nauseating combination of fury and panic.
Jace shifted position again, leaning back and resting the crossbow on the arm of the chair. A silver ring flashed in his left eyebrow, something she hadn’t noticed downstairs in the foyer. He’d also taken off his jacket and was dressed simply in a white T-shirt and blue jeans, his powerful forearms covered in ink that led her to believe he might be older than she’d first thought. Moth squinted, managing to make out some kind of Celtic band around his right arm—the one that guided the crossbow and was as steady as a rock—and something that might have been a
