around her heart. He took another shuffling step forward, into one of the beams of moonlight. And he stood. Except for his pelt, he was naked—of course, Ticks didn’t wear clothes. She’d just never been close enough to a male Tick before to think about it. A shudder of pure disgust went through her, and she was hit with a punch of nausea that had nothing to do with the scent of rotting dairy. Bile pooled in her mouth, but she fought the urge to spit it out. She didn’t dare move.
He was close enough that she could see his eyes flash to black as his pupils contracted. If she so much as twitched, he’d see her. Hell, he could probably see her now. She was just counting on his diminished brain capacity to overlook her if she didn’t move.
Even then, her heart was pounding so strongly, she was sure he could see her pulse. Afraid to even breathe, she held her breath so long her head swam.
Then he dropped back down to his knuckles and twisted away to sniff at the air in the direction of the freezer.
She sucked in a deep shuddering breath that did little to calm her racing pulse. Okay. It was go time. She couldn’t dawdle anymore. If he was heading for the freezer, she had to act. She crept toward the door out of the refrigerator. If she timed it right, she’d fling open the door right as he reached the freezer door. She’d be close to him, but she could still get off a shot with her arrow. And she still had the stake. And the gun. Of course, she had no way of actually timing it. It’d be guesswork at best. But given the choice, she’d rather take a chance than wait for him to find her—or worse, find Josie.
At the door, she pulled an arrow from her quiver and notched it. She would nudge the latch with her elbow and step out of the door ready to fire. It was the best she could do.
Except before she got the door open, she heard something behind her. Nails on glass.
She whirled around to see the Tick back at the glass-fronted door to the dairy case. He hadn’t gone around to the freezer at all. Either he’d seen her move, or he’d tricked her into revealing her location. Could a Tick be that smart?
She spun to face him, keeping the arrow up and notched.
He lifted one massive paw and slashed at the door again. The grating sound of claws on glass rent the air. He pawed at the door with one hand and then the other, his massive brow furrowed into a frown. He clearly saw her but couldn’t figure out how to get to her. He tipped his head back and howled with rage. The sound sent her pulse racing, and pumped adrenaline through her body, making her hands shake. Adrenaline and standing still: not a great combo, but at least the adrenaline deadened some of the pain in her shoulder.
He clawed at the door again, yipping his frustration. And one of his nails caught on the edge of the door, pulling it open for a second. He stopped instantly and tilted his head to the side staring at the door for an interminable moment. Then he brought his hand forward, that same finger extended and caught his nail on the edge of the door a second time. Deliberately. It pulled open, then slipped from his nail and slammed closed. He stared at it, fascinated.
And she stood there, simply watching, unable to do anything. She couldn’t shoot an arrow through the glass. She could fire her gun, but that would do almost nothing. Unless he got the glass door all the way open, she was screwed. And if he got the door open, then she’d have exactly one chance to put an arrow through his heart.
“Come on,” she murmured softly, “Use that ugly brain of yours.”
He ignored the handle, but he obviously understood the concept of a door. He repeated the action several more times, catching the door, opening it, letting it slam closed before he thought to wedge his hand between the door and the frame. Then he opened the door all the way. And he looked at her, his features twisting into a horrible mockery of a smile.
The metal shelves of the dairy case blocked him, but he lunged forward, his arms reaching between the shelves. She pulled back the string a fraction of an inch and let the arrow fly. But her hands were shaking too much and the shot went wide, bouncing of the shelf with a clatter.
The Tick frowned, obviously baffled by the sound.
Her breath caught. He threw himself at the shelves again. This time the entire unit scooted forward a few inches. Okay, maybe she had another shot. Looked like today was her lucky day. She whipped out another arrow, forcing herself to walk closer to him. If she wanted to hit him, she’d have to get the arrow straight through that gap. It’d be like threading a needle.
Heart pounding, she stopped three or four feet away. She sucked in a deep breath and held it before letting the arrow fly. She notched another and let it loose before she even knew if she’d made the shot. The Tick staggered back, howling in pain, the arrow protruding from his chest. Right in his heart. She hoped. The door to the dairy case slammed closed.
Moving quickly, she slung the bow over her shoulder and booked it for the door. She plucked the flashlight off the floor and palmed a stake before throwing open the door and panning the light across the store. Not that she needed the light to know right where the Tick was. His angry thrashing gave away his position.
She followed the sounds of crashing metal and breaking glass. Back in the freezer, Josie must have woken up, because underneath the sounds of the dying Tick, she could hear the piercing scream of the baby. Combined, they were making enough noise to attract the attention of every creature in the county.
On the upside, Carter wouldn’t be able to miss them when he finally got there.
She took one small step toward the Tick’s thrashing body just to be sure he wouldn’t be getting up. His hands grabbed at the arrows, smashing their shafts so only stubby ends protruded from his chest. He wasn’t dead yet, but he would be soon.
From what she understood, the Tick’s blood had super healing properties. A Tick could survive from almost any wound as long as its head was still on and its heart was pumping. The stake through the heart—or in this case the arrow through the heart—kept the heart from pumping. He wouldn’t really be dead until she cut off his head, but until he’d stopped twitching, she didn’t want to get close enough to do it.
So she stood there for several long minutes watching him die, her heart pounding with terror, her throat clenching up. This whole thing . . . it was just too much. Too much fear. Too much death.
She still couldn’t help wondering about the man he’d been before he turned. And what kind of Tick she would be, if she ever turned herself.
Even though she’d never been particularly religious in the Before, now, she closed her eyes and said a quick prayer, for his soul, if he still had it. And for her soul as well.
Not because she really believed it would make a difference, but because she knew all too well that someday there might be someone standing over her mutated, monstrous body. And she hoped the person who stopped her heart with a stake would do the same for her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Mel
Sabrina makes us wait. Which, I suppose is the right of the host when guests stop by uninvited. But we are shown into a lobby and taken up to a sprawling office on the top floor. There is little view from the windows, just the twinkly lights from the campus below, bleeding into the darkness. There must be an empty town outside these fences, but it’s unlit and easy to ignore in the pitch-black night.
There is sleek furniture in the penthouse, and fresh-cut flowers and guards at the ready, but nothing refreshing. Nothing in this place soothes me. I can sense the strain of Sebastian’s fake calm. His jangling nerves make me jittery. He hates being here more than I do. It’s his spidey sense. Even though mine isn’t developed yet, I can sense it in him. Or perhaps it’s just that I know him well by now.
I prowl the length of the windows while we wait. Back and forth, back and forth. I have to keep moving, because hunger is crawling along my skin, twitching my nerves. Smothering me. I haven’t been near this many humans since I turned. It’s harder than I thought.
Finally, the door to the back slides open and Sabrina enters, surveying the room. She frowns when she sees the guard standing by the door then turns to Sebastian. “You weren’t hungry?”
“You know I don’t drink directly from humans. I won’t risk infecting another.”
