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“Yeah,” he said. “I need it.”
“And you’re willing to work for what you want, isn’t that right, Evan.”
The trainer’s eyes searched his face, and it was then that Evan noticed there was something not quite right. The irises were… black and the pupils… blue.
Lash’s eyes had never looked like that before.
“Yes,” he heard himself say anyway.
A heavy hand came to rest on Evan’s shoulder. “Sacrifice is required and there’s no going back. Remember how I told you that?”
No, he’d never heard that before.
“Yes, I remember,” he said for reasons he didn’t understand.
“What did I tell you? When we were in the gym.”
“That if I want to change,” he parroted with a trance-like obedience, “I have to make a commitment.”
“For life.” Lash’s all-wrong eyes were so intense, Evan felt a flushcome over him. “Say it, Evan. I want to hear what skin you’re putting into the game. If I’m going to do my side of things, I need to know that you’re going to do yours.”
The strange pull between them intensified, making Evan feel like he was physically tied to the trainer, by ropes. By chains. And even though he started to panic, there was a bigger part of him that didn’t mind the trap at all. He’d wanted a tether ever since his mom had died, and this was what he’d hoped to find with his uncle, with Mickey.
“For life,” the trainer commanded. “Right? Say it.”
“For life,” Evan whispered—
Everything went wrong in the blink of an eye.
Lash bared his teeth, and just like with his irises, there was something wrong about his canines. And then a hissing noise came out of him, as if he were a snake about to strike.
Before Evan could jerk away, or even think about what was happening, the trainer went for the side of his throat with those extra-long incisors. There was a blaze of pain, and then arms strong as steel bands were locked on him.
As the sucking started.
Evan screamed as loud as he could. But as with the world up above… no one was there for him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Over in the alley off Market Street, Nate stared up at the two fellow vampires who were standing over him. They were so clearly father and daughter, their facial structure the same, their eyes set in similar sockets, their stances identical as they leaned forward on their hips and focused on him.
Nalla was looking like she’d seen a ghost.
Zsadist was looking like he wanted to turn Nate back into one.
“How is this… possible…” she whispered.
Nate brushed his leather sleeve over his face again and tasted his own blood as he swallowed. “Long story.”
With a grunt, he pushed his palms into the filthy slush and got his feet under him. The rise to a stand was rough going, but he was never at full strength right after he came back. Not that he did this very often anymore.
“I don’t understand.” Nalla swept her stare up and down him, and then locked in his chest, where the kill shot had entered his heart.
Or what should have been the kill shot.
In the tense silence, a blast of wind shot through the alley and swirled around, like it was looking for gossip. And with its current, the stink oflesserblood and burn residue was a sinus salad that sucked.
Meanwhile, all he could see were the stains on Nalla’s parka: Black and red, the colors of the war. She had been… magnificent in her fury at that second slayer, and she had tried, more than anybody else had in such a long time, to save him. Why? He had no fucking idea.
