Suzanne McLeod - The Cold Kiss of Death

‘You know she’s heading for a blood-flush, don’t you?’ said Bobby quietly next to my ear.

I only just managed not to jump; I’d been so focused on the girl I hadn’t been paying attention to anything else. ‘Yeah, I can see that,’ I said just as quietly. After my own early morning blood-flush nightmare I knew just how she was feeling: desperate, edgy, driven insane with the venom-fuelled blood burning her up from the inside out. If she didn’t lose the knife soon, we wouldn’t have to worry about her stabbing anyone; she’d be too busy slicing herself up.

‘I could catch her in a mind-lock and hold her still,’ Bobby whispered, ‘but the minute I try, the headband will shut me down again, unless you can mask the spells or something?’

Yeah, I could crack them and blow his head off, or call them and knock myself out in the process, or I could spend a couple of careful hours dismantling them. None of which was going to help. I thought for a moment. ‘If you can get to Hari without her noticing and explain,’ I whispered back, ‘he might deactivate the headband. I’ll help the Souler keep her occupied.’

Bobby slipped silently away and I turned back to where Neil was extolling the virtues of Thaddeus, who had hunched over. With his bat-like ears turned down, he somehow looked less intimidating than before.

Then behind me came the thud of running feet. Back-up was on its way—except that the thudding sounded like a pack of trolls stampeding towards us, way too threatening a noise; the security guys at HOPE were usually better than that. Moth-girl stopped scratching and froze, her body trembling with sudden fear.

A flash caught my eye and I realised the lights above the lifts were blinking for the fourth floor. Someone was coming—and whoever it was, they were about to walk straight out into the middle of everything.

I started counting down.

The running feet got closer.

Neil Banner’s quiet chat notched up in volume as he struggled to regain Moth-girl’s attention.

The lift reached the third floor.

Two fully-armoured security guards raced past me.

Moth-girl’s eye’s widened with terror, the carving knife shaking in her hand.

Second floor.

I starting moving; the beige vinyl tiles seemed to turn to sand, sucking at my feet.

The guards came to a determined stop in front of Moth-girl.

First floor.

She stumbled back, turning to flee.

But Hari loomed in front of her, trapping her.

The lift doors pinged open. Grace, her white doctor’s coat flapping open, stepped out, not looking up from the file she was reading.

‘Grace,’ I yelled, throwing myself at them, knowing I wasn’t going to be fast enough, knowing I was going to be too late ... ... Moth-girl lunged desperately towards the open lift and escape ...

... Grace’s head jerked up, her face paling in instant understanding ...

... Moth-girl plunged towards her, the knife, forgotten, held out in front of her ...

... and as Grace crashed to the floor, papers fluttered up and out of her file like a flock of pigeons taking panicked flight ...

I froze in horror as the papers settled.

Bobby stood in the space where Grace had been, his arms wrapped around Moth-girl, his mouth open wide in a snarl, fangs gleaming white and needle-sharp. Moth-girl was pressed against him, crying, her head instinctively flung back to offer her throat because of the vampire’s nearness. Bobby lowered his head to strike, and the gems in the silver circlet sparked yellow with magic. He roared in anguish, lurched back and collapsed into a heap in front of the lift doors. Moth-girl gave a grief-stricken wail and raked her nails down her own face and neck, leaving blood-bright furrows. The two guards shouted a warning, then tackled her, pinning her to the ground, where she struggled and screamed beneath them.

I dropped to my knees next to Grace, who was lying on her front, unmoving. I grabbed her shoulder—

—and she whacked my hand away. ‘Get your hands off me,’ she snarled, glaring up at me, then her eyes widened as she took in my appearance. ‘Genny? Is that you?’

‘Of course it’s me!’ I pulled her over onto her back, frantically patting her down for any injuries. ‘She didn’t get you, did she?’

‘I’m fine, Genny, all in one piece.’ She pushed me away, back in control. ‘Now, let’s get this sorted,’ she said loudly over Moth-girl’s cries as she scrambled up and scanned the hall. ‘Right, the rest of the emergency team should be here any second. Genny, you g—’

She stopped speaking, her dark eyes glazing over and her face going blank. Moth-girl’s cries cut out a second later as an unnatural stillness descended on all the humans.

Mind-lock .

‘Shit,’ I muttered, and looked over at Bobby who was slumped unconscious against the lift doors, his silver-cuffed hands clasped over his stomach. Between his fingers protruded the hilt of the carving knife. He didn’t look so good: dark blood, a strange red-blue hue, bubbled over his bottom lip and a small puddle of blood pooled on the floor. But Bobby was a vampire and he’d survive almost anything other than having his head lopped off, his heart removed, or being turned into a pile of ashes. And he wasn’t the cause of the mass mind-lock.

A sudden tapping noise drew my gaze to Thaddeus, standing protectively in front of Neil Banner, his baseball bat hitting the floor rhythmically. Neil’s face was as blank as Grace’s, Moth-girl’s, and the security guards.

Thaddeus’ warning grin stretched wide, showcasing his ruby-encrusted teeth. As he and I stared towards the entrance the question I should’ve asked myself earlier finally jumped into my head.

Why would a fang-gang attack a venom-junkie like Moth-girl, then send her in to HOPE to look for me? It didn’t make sense. The whole thing behind pumping someone up with venom was to get their blood fizzing, so both vamp and Moth would experience the high. Unless they wanted to keep their victim senseless and handy for a sunset snack, there really was no reason not to indulge ...

Unless she was a distraction?

The doors whispered open and my pulse leapt into my throat. Whoever the fuck it was, and whatever they wanted, it was something to do with me, and I wasn’t going to let them hurt anyone else. I started walking towards the entrance.

The doors hissed closed.

But no one had come in ...

... or at least no one that I could see.

Warmth slipped over me like the summer sun on my skin, heating the bruises that encircled my left wrist and setting my pulse throbbing. I breathed in, concentrating my inner senses, and tasted Turkish delight on my tongue: Malik. Surprise sparked in my mind—he shouldn’t be here; he was supposed to be too injured after the explosion. Then wary relief filled me. Malik hadn’t set this up; it wasn’t his style.

‘Malik al-Khan,’ I murmured, ‘show yourself.’

He appeared as if from nowhere, the nonexistent shadows he’d gathered to him trailing like dark smoke from his body. His enigmatic face was as pale and beautiful as ever, his slanted eyes dangerous black pools that held thoughts I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, his hair a fall of black silk that my fingers itched to touch. Anticipation fluttered as a traitorous part of me whispered I could do that and more once I’d made a deal with him. I shut it up.

‘Shame you couldn’t have turned up ten minutes earlier,’ I said, my voice matter-of-fact. At least he didn’t appear to be showing any ill-effects from whatever injuries he’d sustained. Of course, I could only see his face and hands; the rest of his body was elegantly hidden by a designer suit in his usual black—even his neck was covered between his hair and the high Nehru collar. ‘But as you’re here now, and you appear to have taken control, maybe you can help sort it out?’