“Guess you two will be in front of us for a change,” Remy chuckles.
“No,” Jaxton growls. “He can still hurt us, even if he can’t bite our brothers.”
I sip Ansley’s blood, and it’s sweeter than I expect. I’ve tasted a lot of blood between hunting for food and dealing with threats in Chicago. Hers is definitely the sweetest I’ve ever experienced. It doesn’t do anything to me that I can feel, but like Wyatt, the vampire fang can’t pierce my skin.
We shift into our Natural Forms and wait near the front of the alley. It’s almost thirty minutes before the vampire appears, and even from here, I can tell he’s recently fed. That’ll make him a little stronger, but he won’t be able to handle four wolves, especially if he can’t bite us and doesn’t see us coming.
Vampires are perceptive, but we’re good at avoiding detection. We stalk him, using the shadows and the terrain to our advantage. Even in broad daylight, we can stay hidden when we’re able to move at a slower pace.
“Let’s see if he leads us straight to his nest,” Remy transmits across the mental link.
We continue following the vampire, and it gets more difficult to avoid detection once we’re in a busy part of the city. We shift, climb a building, and continue across the rooftops, since it’s easier.
“Is he going to that school?” Wyatt questions. “It looks abandoned.”
“Not a bad spot for a nest,” Jaxon observes.
“Let’s take him down before he gets there, then we’ll check it out,” Remy says. “If he gets too close, we’ll be dealing with more than one vampire.”
There’s no way to stay hidden now, but thankfully, we don’t have to. Jaxton leaps from the rooftop and lands on the ground with a grunt, not breaking his stride. Remy is right behind him, sailing through the air like he’s got wings underneath his fur.
Wyatt and I bring up the rear. We’re slower, but we’ve got an ace in our paws. Remy cuts to the left to let us pass, right as Jaxton closes in on the vampire.
“Wolves,” the vampire seethes. “I’ve heard about you, hunting our kind.”
The vampire takes a fighting stance. He’s definitely older than some of the ones we’ve fought, and he’s recently fed, so he’ll put up a fight.
Jaxton barrels into the vampire’s chest, but the vampire turns, absorbs the blow, and sinks his fangs into Jaxton’s neck. Jaxton let’s out a howl as he twists away from the vampire and kicks off him.
“Fucker bit me,” Jaxton growls, getting hit by the vampire’s claws when he tries to go for the throat.
The vampire knocks Jaxton off his feet. I glance over at Remy as Wyatt and I close in. I go for the vampire’s stomach. Wyatt goes for his neck. The vampire kicks me hard enough to force a whine out of me, then tries to bite Wyatt. Wyatt lets out a howl—I guess it still hurts—but it the vampire is confused.
“I can’t bite you?” The vampire asks, kicking me again before clawing Wyatt. To everyone’s surprise, the vampire’s claws don’t have an effect on Wyatt either. “What kind of wolf are you?”
“The kind that kills vampires,” Remy says, shifting into his true Human Form as he lands behind the creature.
The vampire tries to spin around, but he’s not fast enough. Remy grabs the vampire, immobilizes his arms, and the rest of us do what we do best. I sink my fangs into his belly, blood rushing across my teeth. Wyatt tears a chunk out of his neck. Jaxton shifts into his true Human Form and drives his fist through the vampire’s chest. He grunts and grimaces with effort, and the vampire screeches until Jaxton finally yanks his beating heart out.
“Dead,” Jaxton comments nonchalantly, crushing the heart and making blood splatter all over the place.
“Let’s check out the school,” Remy says, then he shifts back into his Natural Form.
The school looms ahead of us, a three-story brick building that hasn’t seen students in decades. Most of the windows are broken, jagged shards of glass still hanging from the frames like teeth. The red brick is stained from the years of Chicago weather and neglect. There’s obvious water damage, crumbling patches of mortar, and graffiti that has faded into barely recognizable outlines.
“We don’t have any cameras this far out,” I transmit across our mental link. “It’s not close to any of the disappearances, either.”
The main entrance is boarded up, the wood warped and rotting and pulling away from the frame in places. A rusted chain hangs loose from the double doors behind the plywood, a broken padlock barely holding the chain in place.
“Lincoln Elementary School,” Wyatt transmits, reading the name carved into the stone above the entrance.
“I remember when they built this place,” I share. “There used to be a nice clearing not far from here. It was a good place to hunt deer before the construction ran them off.”
“That’s what humans do,” Jaxton says.
The playground to the right is a wasteland of broken equipment. A swing set with only one remaining swing, the chains rusted and creaking in the breeze. A metal slide is bent at an unusual angle, the surface covered with rust and bird droppings.
“I’ll scout it out,” Remy transmits, then he dashes ahead.
