Мишель Роуэн - Bitten & Smitten

“I didn’t believe her.”

Quinn remained silent beside me, hands folded in front of him on the table, saying nothing.

“Why not? After all, she was telling the truth, but that was a long time ago. And you needn’t think I’m the same man today I was then.”

“I needn’t. I mean, I don’t.”

“Then why do you ask me to hide like a child afraid of a thunderstorm?”

I was about to let it all spill out of my mouth. Tell him that I’d been terrible, sold him out, and now the hunters were after him. In other words, the truth. But Quinn beat me to it.

“It’s all my fault,” Quinn said. “The hunters now know where this place is, and they’re after you in particular. I sold them the information to buy the cure for me. For me and Sarah. I wanted us to be human again.”

Thierry studied him for a moment. I half expected him to kill Quinn where he sat, or at the very least to scream at him, threaten his life. But he was calm, stoic, like a statue.

“There is no cure.”

“We know,” Quinn said. “Now we do, anyhow. But it’s too late. They tricked us, and now you have to get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“But, Thierry,” I heard the hard edge of panic in my voice, “you have to. They’re going to kill you.”

His eyes slowly tracked to mine, where they held for a moment. “Yes, they will.”

I shook my head. “You don’t care?”

“No, I don’t. As you well know, Sarah, it is a time long overdue. If I am to die tonight at the hands of the hunters, then I will accept my destiny. It is fate. I am not afraid.”

His voice sounded so loud suddenly, or maybe it was just his words, hopeless and despondent. I wanted to slap him hard across the face. Make him wake the hell up. There was no reason for him to die tonight. No damn reason at all. I could hear my heart pounding, the blood rushing through my ears. Everything seemed louder suddenly. But why? No. It wasn’t just me. The club was silent. The music had stopped playing. Conversation had halted throughout the smoky room. I looked over at the band. The dark-haired singer clutched the microphone on the stand in front of her, standing there, unmoving, unsinging. There was an odd look on her face. Surprise? Shock? But before I could figure it out, her expression faded, and a large red stain spread across the front of her white blouse. And then she fell—it seemed to take forever—face forward off the stage.

Peter stood behind her, holding a bloody stake in his right hand. He grabbed the wobbling microphone and pulled it close to his mouth and raised an eyebrow. The one that wasn’t covered by the patch.

“Is there a Sarah Dearly in the audience tonight?” he said, loud and clear. “If there is, could she please come up to the stage?”

The silence in the club was deafening. I slumped down in my seat. How did Peter know I was even there, or was he just guessing? Hoping I was there so he finally could exact his revenge on me for what I’d done to his eye. Thierry made a move to stand, but my hand darted out to catch his wrist. I squeezed it as tightly as I could.

“Sit down,” I hissed across the table. “Please!”

He met my gaze and shook his head. He placed his other hand on top of mine and pried my grip off him. He stood up and turned to face the stage.

“Leave this club. You’re not welcome here.”

“You’re not Sarah,” Peter said but then smiled. “But I’m betting that you’re this Thierry dude, right?”

“That is correct. My name is Thierry de Bennicoeur.”

“Pretty faggy name, man. I hate the French. Don’t worry; we’ll get to you in a minute.

The boys and I got all night for this. Now, where are you hiding that bitch? Give her up and maybe I’ll let a few of you live.”

There were several other rough-looking guys flanking Peter. I recognized a couple of them from the night I was sired, and a few more were from the pub across the street. The others I’d never seen before. But they all looked out to the audience of frozen vampires like lions who had their pick of weak, helpless prey. I felt the press of a warm body join me and Quinn on my side of the booth. It was George.

He looked petrified.

“What the hell?” he whispered “Why do they want you?”

“It’s hard being so popular,” I whispered back.

“You,” George said to Quinn. “They’re your friends, right? Do something!”

Quinn’s expression was bleak. “Not anymore. There’s nothing I can do.”

“Then come on.” George pulled on my arm. “Let’s sneak out the back.”

I shook my head. “No. There’re too many people in here that will be hurt. And Thierry’s going to get himself killed if we don’t do something to stop this.”

I scanned the crowd and spotted Amy sitting with Barry at a small table near the stage.

She gave me a quick wave of her hand and mouthed, “What now?” She clung to the small frame of Barry as if he were the only thing keeping her from falling into the abyss. He stared up at the stage with a fierce, brave expression on his face. I shrugged at her. I honestly didn’t know what to do next. All I knew was that I couldn’t just slither out of here on the floor, saving myself but no one else. It just wasn’t polite.

“Any dealings you need to have,” Thierry said to Peter in a commanding tone, “you can have with me. Sarah has nothing to do with any of this.”

Peter took the microphone off the stand and pressed it against his lips so the words came out slurred and extra loud. “Sa-rah. Sa-rah. Come out, come out, wherever you are. I think I’ll start with your eyes and work my way down that luscious little body. Come on now. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Quinn climbed over me to stand next to Thierry.

“Peter,” he yelled up to the stage. “Don’t do this.”

Peter smiled at his former acquaintance. “Well, if it isn’t Michael Quinn. Glad you’re here. Wanted to say thanks a bunch for leaving me at the restaurant like you did. They had to take me to the hospital and pump my stomach. I almost died.”

“Kill or be killed, man. Times have changed.”

“Yes, they have. Look, Quinn, I’ll do you a favor because we have a history. I’ll let you walk. Leave now and I’ll look the other way. Doesn’t mean I won’t hunt your ass down another time, but all I want tonight is that bitch.”

Quinn was blocking me so Peter couldn’t see I was sitting right behind him. He shook his head. “Can’t do that. You’ve made this my fight now.”

“Stupid decision. Maybe your father’s been right about you.”

“My father is dead.”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up. He took a moment before speaking again. “Then I guess you really have made your decision. Okay, people”—he turned from Quinn to survey the rest of the crowd—“let’s get this show on the road. Time is money.”

He jumped off the stage and snatched Amy right out of Barry’s arms. He dragged her back up to the stage with him, his arm tight around her neck.

“Hey, darlin‘.” He kissed her cheek with a sloppy, wet sound. “Good to see you again.”

I didn’t even feel myself move, but suddenly I was on my feet. “Hey, asshole,” I called up to the stage. “Let her go right now.”

Thierry turned around to glare at me for making my presence known. Quinn too. My two handsome protectors. I sure was a lucky girl.

Peter smiled at me but didn’t loosen his hold on his ex-girlfriend. “I’d be happy to let her go. Why don’t you come up here and take her place?”

“No, Sarah!” Amy’s voice was strangled.

Thierry, Quinn, and George grabbed my arms to try to stop me from moving forward, but I was determined. I marched through the crowd, which now parted before me like the Red Sea, and then I was standing in front of Peter.