“I need to get out of the wind. My joint isn’t lighting.”
Drifting closer to a row of large trash cans, he snaps his fingers and creates a spark, manipulating the fire from the lighter onto the joint.
Something shifts in my peripheral. I squint into the shadows beyond the trash as a shadow flits across the wall.
Luisa takes a step back, her hand winding around mine.
“Rafi,” she says, her voice etched with warning.
I see it then. Something, someone, moving behind him. Luisa grabs me, pulling me aside, just as a cry splinters the air.
Chapter Eight
A dark figure has Rafi pushed against the wall, his mouth dangerously close to his neck.
Vampire. He’s at least six feet tall and built like an early Dwayne Johnson. His voice is gravelly. “I told you, no more Witch marks, hijo de puta!”
Rafi squares his shoulders. “I’m a Warlock, you uncultured swine.”
This earns Rafi another shove against the wall.
“The Gothic Quarter is ours. It’s off the menu.”
Rafi is doing everything he can to avoid looking in our direction, but that doesn’t mean I need to keep quiet.
“Hey, Sanguinista,” I call out. “Pick on someone your own size. Like an RV.”
The Vamp spins around, bloodshot eyes sussing me out. Nailing me to the spot.
OK, maybe I should have stayed silent.
With lighting speed, the Vampire grabs me by the neck and throws me against the wall. My spine rings out with pain as I collide with the brickwork.
He looks like he’s been around since these streets were first built, he smells that way too. His dark hair is long and greasy, his leather coat grimy and cracked, and his mustache is matted with blood and chunks of something. Blood clots. My hand shoots to my mouth as I try not to gag.
“What do we have here then?” he says in Catalan, drinking me in. “Two little Witches out after bedtime.”
Rafi runs up behind the Vamp, pulling him back by his coat. He releases me, and Luisa manages to punch him right in the face.
She shakes out her injured fist. “Fuck!”
Unphased, the Vampire chucks Rafi against the wall, like he’s swatting an irritating mosquito, then backhands Luisa. With a scream, she falls to the ground and doesn’t get back up again. She’s out cold.
Slowly, the towering Vamp turns back to me and cracks his neck, taking a heavy step forward. I put my hands up in front of me as if power might shoot out of them. It’s worth a shot.
“Look, I get it, you wanted an Antonio Banderas look but ended up with Danny Trejo. We all have our bad days. Can’t we just get along?”
“Calla,” he growls, hands around my throat.
I try to fight him, but the immutable iron grip is all too familiar. A scream dies in my mouth, half-formed. I can’t breathe.
“I won’t go into your territory anymore,” Rafi begs from the ground. He’s injured, clutching his ribs and struggling to help me. “I won’t. Please. I promise. Let her go.”
“My blood will only poison you,” I say through a choke. The Vamp’s breath is rancid.
“Your blood might disagree with me,” he says, his nasty eyes scanning me up and down. “But other parts of you won’t.”
He licks his lips, and I openly wretch.
“Besides, I get my Witch blood antidote on the Blood Web. I can drink my fill.” His lips set into a snarl, and his fangs glint in the moonlight. I try to kick, but I might as well be kicking the metal trash cans. He doesn’t move. I try and take a breath again. Nothing. Then his teeth sink into me.
My vision is beginning to blur as Luisa’s face appears beside his. Her features are distorted with pain and anger. She yanks him back by his hair with a scream, her hand landing on his temple.
Does she really think she can fight him off?
The Vamp looks startled for a moment, frozen in place. I’m sure he’s about to hit her again, but instead he sinks to his knees and cries out.
Luisa’s face glows pale in the light of the moon, and she closes her eyes. I swallow, my throat bruised and dry as I desperately try to get air. Falling to my knees beside the screaming Vamp, I scramble backward, and away from him, my chest heaving.
“Life has been so cruel to you,” Luisa says sweetly.
I look up at them, confused. She’s still holding his hair in her fist like he’s a bulldog on a leash. Her other hand stays pressed firmly against his temple.
What the fuck is she doing?
The Vamp starts to cry, huge wailing sobs forming bubbles of spit at his blood-encrusted mouth.
“No. Please,” he begs, his voice hoarse. Fat tears leak into his mustache, his eyes clouding over in pain. “I can’t bear it. I want to die. Kill me. Please, kill me.”
Rafi is standing beside Luisa now, his face set hard as stone as he looks down at the pathetic excuse for a Vampire at his feet.
“I’ll mark whatever area I please,” he says to him. “You fucked with the wrong Mages.”
Finally, Luisa lets go of the Vampire’s head and wipes her hands on her pants, but he stays on the ground, slowly curling into the fetal position. He’s rocking back and forth, mumbling something about pain and regret.
Luisa helps me up.
“Let’s go,” she says to Rafi. “Before the magic wears off, or his dealer buddies show up.”
“Just a minute.”
Rafi holds his palm over a wall, and in a cloud of dust, his MaryAire sigil appears like it was carved out of the wall by a Renaissance artist centuries before.
“Now I’m done,” he says, spitting on the trembling Vampire sobbing on the ground.
Rafi and Luisa don’t say a word, keeping their eyes to the ground as they head for the HQ. Rafi is clutching his ribs, and Luisa rubbing her hand. We walk quickly down two more streets until we reach the square. I never thought any MA building would fill
