Мишель Роуэн - Bitten & Smitten

Peter’s face had gone a medium shade of crimson. “You knew. How?”

“Perhaps you are not the only one who has informants.”

“Zelda,” I said under my breath to draw Thierry’s attention away from Peter. “Zelda’s the informant. Well, their informant.”

“I know.”

“You do? What are you, like freaking Kreskin?”

He smiled at me. “No. Simply a good judge of character. Also, she stopped drinking the blood that was delivered here. She’d brought her own supply in and kept it under the bar.

Little things say a lot.”

“Where’s Zelda now?”

“In my office.” He paused. “With Veronique.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Poor Zelda.”

“Indeed.”

“Shut up!” Peter screamed. “Both of you. Shut up! I don’t care what you’ve done. I don’t care how many of you there are. Do you know my kill count? Neither do I, because it’s so bloody high! I can take half of you out tonight with my eyes closed.” He glanced at his friends. They were all looking a little less sure of themselves than they had when they first got there. But each hand held a sharp weapon. A weapon meant to slice, to dice, to kill. And they had the power of desperation and rage fueling them.

Peter leaped out at the audience that rose to meet him. Then all hell broke loose. It was one thing to say to the vamps that they could hold their own, but when push came to shove, a lot of them bailed and ran to the exits, pushing past the petrified, overpowered hunters who blocked their way. I got swept up with the crowd and pulled away from Thierry and Quinn. I tried to fight my way back, but I was pressed on all sides. People were going crazy. Either fighting against the dozen hunters or trying to get the hell out of Dodge. A hand reached out from beneath a table and pulled me under. It was George.

“Just stay here,” he said. “It’ll be over soon.”

“But Thierry—”

“Thierry wants to die. Everybody knows that. Save yourself, sweetheart.”

He didn’t mean to be cruel. He was trying to be helpful, and I knew it. I grabbed him and kissed him hard on the cheek.

“Don’t get stabbed again.” I slipped out from underneath the table.

“I’ll try,” he said sadly. “You too.”

I tried to find somebody I knew, but I was surrounded by unfamiliar faces that were filled with rage or fear or confusion. Where were Quinn and Thierry? Why couldn’t I find Barry and Amy? Did Veronique even know what was going on? I had to get to the office and warn her. I was close to the bar at that moment, and I used it to pull myself along through the crowd going in the opposite direction. I ran down the hallway and opened up the door, slipped inside, and closed it behind me. I looked around.

Zelda was right in front of me, smiling sweetly.

“Hey, Sarah.” She backhanded me across the face. “Glad you could join us.”

White stars exploded in front of my eyes. I fell to the floor and tried to scramble away from her, stunned by the pain from the blow. What just happened? I thought Veronique was looking after her. I looked up. Veronique was sprawled on the sofa, unconscious. There was a wooden stake protruding from her ample chest; her designer dress was ruined, and one expensive shoe was off, the heel broken and flung across the room. I crawled along the floor until I got to Thierry’s desk. Using it, I pulled myself up to my feet. My ears rang from the hit I’d just received. I never knew girls could hit that hard, but

Zelda wasn’t a girl. She was a three-hundred-year-old vampire with a chip on her shoulder. We weren’t the only ones in the room. Peter emerged from the corner and smiled at me.

“Nice little scene out there, darlin‘. Didn’t see that coming.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you don’t see much coming these days.” I noticed the familiar taste of blood in my mouth. “At least not out of your left side, that is.”

His smile vanished and was replaced by a scowl.

“Got anything to say to me?” Zelda asked.

“Nope.” I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of getting any more of a rise out of me. “Not a damn thing.”

She almost looked disappointed. Then she shrugged.

“Okay, Peter, I’m leaving now. I’ve done everything you’ve wanted.”

He stared at her. “Thank you. You’ve been most helpful. Although, I can’t say that I’m too thrilled about how this night is going so far.”

“Not my fault. So, how about my payment?”

“Your payment?”

“That’s right,” I said. “After all, our dear little Zelda only wants what’s coming to her.”

I almost felt that Peter and I shared a moment, but that was impossible because he was a psycho and the last time I checked—I wasn’t. A wide smile spread across his face.

“She wants what’s coming to her, does she?”

“Come on,” Zelda said impatiently. “I don’t have all night.”

Peter pulled out his stake and sank it into her chest. I scrambled farther behind the desk as I watched her expression change from greedy to surprised.

“But”—she looked up at him—“that’s not what I meant.”

She fell forward, mimicking the poor singer earlier. Her face smacked against the carpeted floor. But unlike the singer, who must have been much younger since she stayed in one dead but solid piece, Zelda slowly shrank and darkened, until there was nothing left of her but a pile of clothes, a stake, and a gross stain on the carpet that would probably require professional steam cleaning to remove. Peter bent over and picked up the stake. He looked down at the stain and shook his head.

Then he took a step toward me and flicked his eyes absently at Veronique.

“She’s a hot one. I’m glad she’s not dead yet. I plan on having lots of fun with her.”

I’d slowly worked my hand into Thierry’s top drawer, praying that I’d find what I was looking for. It had to still be in there. It just had to be. If it wasn’t, I was seriously screwed. I let out a little sigh of relief as I wrapped my hands around Thierry’s gun, the one he’d given me only a few short days ago to protect myself from Quinn.

Peter came closer until he was standing on the other side of the desk. “Yeah, we all get what’s coming to us sooner or later, don’t we, darlin‘? Now it’s your turn.” His grin widened as he reached for me.

“You first.” I pointed the gun at his chest and squeezed off a shot. The sound was deafening, and the recoil sent me crashing backward against the wall.

Peter took a step backward, too, and looked down at himself. Just like the singer he’d murdered earlier, a red stain blossomed out from the center of his chest. He dropped the stake and pressed his hand against the wound, as if that would make a difference. “Sorry,” I said. I actually meant it. First his eye, now this. He really should have known just to leave me the hell alone.

“You bitch.” His voice was so surprised it was almost sad.

“Sticks and stones, Peter.”

He took another step back and then his knees gave out. He collapsed in the middle of the puddle that once was Zelda, and I heard the last breath leave his body with a hiss. With shaking hands I put the gun back in the drawer and went to Veronique’s side. She was still breathing. Thank God for that.

“Veronique.” I glanced at Peter every couple of seconds, just in case he was planning on making another appearance, but he was pretty much as dead as he was going to get.

Wooden stakes in the hearts of vampires, lead bullets in the hearts of humans—they worked every time. I swallowed hard. I’d leave the freaking out about killing somebody, no matter how much they damn well deserved it, for another time.

“Veronique,” I said again and slapped her face.