Pitch

corner, then quickly changed my mind. A cart would make too much noise. Draw too much attention.

I hit the sidewalk at a dead run. The sun had sunk below the tree line, and although it wasn’t yet dark, there was a definite sense of impending doom and gloom.

My hair flew out behind me like a black cape and for the second time I cursed myself for not remembering to grab elastics. Tomorrow. I would come back and get them tomorrow. If I live that long.

When I reached Main Street and dashed across I allowed myself one gasp of relief. Not far now. Not far at all. Travis had been wrong. The Drinkers couldn’t come out until it was completely dark.

I was still thinking that when something grabbed my hair and yanked me off my feet.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Real Damsels Rescue Themselves

I saw the eyes first. They swam above me, so vibrant in their intensity I had to look away. The voice came next. Soft. Crooning. Gloating.

“Pretty pretty girl. I’ve found a pretty pretty girl. You ran too slow, pretty girl.”

A cold finger trailed down across my cheek. I struck it away. The voice giggled.

“Ooo, a fighter, eh? Here, let me help you up.”

Strong hands dug into my shoulders and hauled me to my feet so fast my head spun. The hands released me and I stumbled forward, catching myself on a lamppost. Holding fast to the metal, I spun around it to study my attacker as bile curdled in my throat. This can’t be happening again, I thought hopelessly. It isn’t night yet! It isn’t fair.

This Drinker was a young man, slender and tall as a willow. His hair was pale blonde and cut short enough to outline the round edges of his skull. His t-shirt and jeans hung off him, too big for his wiry frame. His eyes were the same blue as Angelique’s. He grinned and held out one fist, slowly peeling back finger after finger to reveal what he had clutched in his palm.

A ball of my hair. The bastard had ripped my hair right out of my head. While I watched he lifted the hair to his nostrils and inhaled deeply, his eyes flickering closed. When his tongue darted out, dark red against his pale white skin, I made a sound of disgust and looked away, stomach turning. The Drinker’s high pitched giggles filled the air.

“I know what you are,” I bit out. “And I’m not afraid of you.”

The Drinker darted forward, light as a cat. His pointer finger slid down my arm and I didn’t register he had sliced my flesh open until he danced away and sucked the blood clean from his fingertip. “Mmmm. Tastes like strawberries.”

He stared at me expectantly, his gaze feverishly bright, no doubt waiting for me to start crying or fall to my knees begging for mercy. I did neither. My blood made a faint drip drip drip sound as it ran past my wrist and fell to the pavement. The Drinker licked his lips and began to circle me, much as Angelique had when she had me cornered the night before.

“Where have you been hiding, moppet?” he asked. The corner of his mouth curled up. “Clever, clever moppet to last this long.”

“What are you going to do to me?” I said, ignoring his question. I didn’t want to say anything that might give away Travis or Dad’s location.

“Oh moppet, the things I’m going to do to you… Best not dwell on them now, though, not when – what is happening to your arm?” he hissed as he crouched low, blue eyes darting left and right. “You didn’t tell me you were already claimed. Sneaky little bitch.”

I followed his gaze to my arm and saw what had upset him. My strange new healing powers were at work again. Before my very eyes the cut on my arm stopped bleeding and closed up, leaving only a light pink scar. “That’s right,” I said, seizing the opportunity he had inadvertently given me. “I’m already, er, claimed. So you can’t, ah, have me.”

“Who bit you?” he snarled.

“Angelique.”

“Angelique… but… her pet ran away. Unless…” He sprang up and grabbed my jaw, forcing my head as high as it would go, leaving my throat completely defenseless. “Unless the little lost lamb has returned to her flock,” he murmured, all but shivering in delight.

“Did I say Angelique?” I gasped. “I meant Angela.”

“No,” he purred, rubbing his cheek against mine. “I don’t think you did.”

“Let her go.”

I had never heard three sweeter words.

“Maximus!” I cried out his name as he stepped into view. His eyes were trained with deadly intensity on the Drinker that held me captive. I could have wept when I saw the gun in his hand. “Maximus, he’s going to -”

“Shut up,” he said without sparing me a glance.

The Drinker twisted me around until my back was pressed against his chest. I could feel his breath on my ear. The smell of it reminded me of the sickeningly sweet scent coming from Mrs. Dobb’s apartment. Oh God, I thought dimly as his arm looped around my throat and tightened. He’s using me like one of those human shields in the movies. The ones who always get shot by the good guy trying to get the bad guy. I’m toast.

“I said let her go,” Maximus repeated. He took a step towards us. The Drinker snapped his teeth an inch from my face and dragged me back past the lamp post.

“Finders keepers,” he whined. “I found her first. I want her.”

Maximus stepped forward again. This time the Drinker reacted by tightening his hold on my neck until I gasped for air. Maximus stopped short. “She belongs to Angelique,” he said calmly. “You can’t have her.”

There wasn’t going to be any of me left if the Drinker didn’t stop choking the life out of me. I wheezed in air through my mouth as my vision went gray around the edges. My legs kicked feebly, striking at nothing.

“You’re killing her!” Maximus didn’t sound so calm now.

The arm wrapped around my throat released a fraction of an inch. I sagged forward, gasping and sputtering. My hair tangled around my face, temporarily blinding me. Maximus and the Drinker continued to exchange words, but I wasn’t listening to them anymore. No, I was concentrating on the lamp post two feet in front of me and trying to remember what other helpful tidbits I had learned in the defense class. Too bad I hadn’t paid closer attention. Mrs. Hamilton had been right – you never knew when you would have to kick a guy’s ass.

The idea came to me suddenly, like all great (and ridiculously crazy) ideas do. If it did work it would give Maximus one open shot where I could only pray he wouldn’t hit me by mistake. If it did not work I would most likely end up with a broken neck. Not great odds, but what else was I going to do? Wait for Prince Charming to come rescue me? I just wasn’t that kind of girl.

I tucked my elbows to my sides and buckled at the knees, throwing the Drinker off balance. Humping my back like some kind of deranged whale I charged at the lamp post and slammed on the brakes an inch before hitting it, twisting sharply to the side and simultaneously dropping my left shoulder. Caught by surprise the Drinker went soaring rather gracefully over top of me. The lamp post broke his fall.

I scrambled away on my hands and knees, shouting something highly intelligent