“Son of a bitch,” I breathed.
I scrambled to get out from under him, finally breaking free and jumping up. He grabbed me by the back of my jacket, and I let my arms slide through so all he was left with was red leather. I bolted for the stairs, rethinking my earlier dumbass logic. Nope, this time, I was going to fucking bolt and hide until the sun came up.
Then I might come back here for a lunchtime cookout. Was is still considered murder if they were already dead?
I only made it up half a dozen stairs before he snagged my foot. I jammed the heel backwards, cringing at the squelch as the stiletto heel went straight through his eye. He released me long enough for me to scramble up another two steps before he tackled me back to the ground. I grunted as I fell, attempting to suck back in the breath that was knocked from me.
I propelled myself up another few steps, kicking wildly as I went. A cut opened up on his cheek when I swiped at his face, but it healed almost instantly. Up and up we went, playing this strange game of cat and mouse, only the victor of this game got murder added to their tally.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I went through the door, just not in the way I expected. Draco launched himself at me, landing on my back and riding me to the kitchen floor the basement opened on to. Wood splintered as the doorway shattered around us.
“I’m not a fucking unicorn!” I yelled, jerking and jostling, trying to dislodge him. He was strong, but I didn’t think he was at full strength. Perhaps Faline’s death had weakened him somehow? Whatever the reason, I was fucking grateful. Now all I needed was Reaver to start playing nice.
As Draco flipped me over onto my back, he wrenched my head to the side and tipped my chin up, giving him unfettered access to my throat and the carotid artery that pounded against my skin. Oh, hell no. I was not a juice box. As he leaned in, his mouth open, his fangs growing from tiny points to two-inch monstrosities, I sucked in a breath and braced for my throat to be torn out. I was not, however, braced for the scream that sounded as if it was being forcefully ripped from his vocal cords…with a pair of hot pliers.
My opal had flared back to life, this time holding its glow. It grew in intensity, and whatever it was, whatever it was doing, Draco did not appreciate it. Rearing back, he hissed at me, his features no longer that of a man, but of the monster hidden under his skin. His eyes glowed like hot coals. Black veins erupted all over his skin, raised and pulsing, and his mouth was a terrifying snarl with daggers for teeth.
Shielding his eyes from the glow, he reached blindly for my neck. And that was when I felt Reaver down by my left hand. I clutched at the magnificently mercurial blade and brought it up, swinging it in an arc that cleaved the head from Draco’s body. His head landed to my right, his body listed to the left, blood spewing from both appendages and smattering across my chest in an X. It coated my legs and lower torso until I looked as if I’d gone all Carrie on his ass. Which, I guessed, I kind of had.
I sat up with a wince, bringing the blade with me. I stared at it. “You have some of the best and worst timing in the world.”
Panting, breathless, I clung to the opal, which had stopped glowing as soon as Draco’s head separated from his body. I needed to find out how it worked. I needed a fucking shower. Then a therapy session.
Shit.
Joanna Wong wouldn’t know what hit her.
Eighteen
I had the good sense to call Wolfe and tell him what had happened. He wasn’t too happy to hear from me at three in the morning, but I told him that not having baby vampires running around anymore would be his reward for taking the call. He cursed me out a little, then said he would send a team to the scene.
As I sat in the stainless steel and cherry wood kitchen waiting, I tried to work through everything. The most pressing thing was the secrets my parents had kept from me. I had to find out more, and I had to find out how this opal was connected. I glanced down at Reaver, still coated in blood. My impulse was to clean the thing, but I didn’t want to mess with the crime scene any more than I already had.
My right shoulder throbbed, as did the cut on my hand, the bump on my head, and my knee. These past few days had been a real shit show, but I actually kind of enjoyed them. It sure beat a desk job in any case. I glanced up when I heard the front door open.
“McKenzie?” someone called.
“In the kitchen,” I shouted back happily.
Two cops in thick jackets came in and took in the scene, then looked at me. Reaver, conveniently, disappeared. “EMTs are on the way.”
“Thanks.”
“What the hell happened?”
“Vampire?” I replied.
The first guy, whose nametag said his name was Ramirez, said, “No, I mean how in the hell did you sever someone’s head completely? Look at you, you’re five foot three.”
I glowered. “Five four, douche canoe,” I snarled.
Ramirez put his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Wouldn’t want to deny you an inch.”
“An inch makes all the difference,” I shot back sweetly, looking down at his junk.
He shook his head. “Yeah, yeah.” Looking over his shoulder, he said to his partner, “Come on. Wonder Woman here will be okay for a few minutes.”
“There’s more fun downstairs,” I said. “I got a little decapitation happy,” I added with a shrug. “Bad habit. I’m
