Page 12

He’s going to follow me. He’s going to try and kill me.

I spin, looking back at the bus as it drives away, and the man is still seated where he was, still watching me.

I keep moving. I’m breathless by the time I get back to the house, and I still feel shaky.

That’s when I hear a scream.

Whirling around, I sweep my gaze around me. Is it him? Has he followed me?

Another scream.

My daggers are in my hands as I follow the sound. My steps are light as I silently scout along the edge of the shed. The scream tears through the air again, but it sounds further away, like the person is being moved. I begin running.

Trees blur past me. My breath rasps in my throat, hot and ragged. The underbrush slashes at my face and legs – sticks, branches, the occasional whip of leaves. I keep moving because he’s behind me, and they are fast.

There’s a low, guttural growl that makes the birds go silent.

I know these woods, I’ve walked them many times, but in my panic, I’ve lost the trail. There’s no path ahead of me, just layers of dead, crunchy leaves that give my location away with each step.

My heart is beating so hard, I can’t breathe. I am not ready to face vampires. All the confidence and bravado I’ve accumulated during my training has vanished in the blink of an eye.

My foot catches on something and I scream and stumble, tumbling forward, arms flailing. The ground vanishes, sending me plummeting, like the earth has opened up and swallowed me whole.

I land hard. My shoulder slams into stone, and pain tears through me. I gasp. It’s pitch black and cold. I sit up slowly. I’m completely winded for a moment, but I force myself to get to my feet. It’s dark as I peer around me. I scan the area as my vision slowly comes back into focus. Terror climbs up my throat as I eye the cells before me. It’s hard to breathe down here, as though oxygen has been sucked from the room. There’s a metallic kind of smell to it, as if blood is tainting each lungful I breathe in.

A minor movement – something quiet but down here, practically sounds like a gunshot – makes me gasp and spin, clutching at my dagger.

‘You look like you’re not supposed to be here.’

My hand shakes as it grips the dagger. I squint, trying to locate where the voice came from.

There’s a cage. Thick iron bars are bent inwards like whatever is stuck inside has tried to claw its way out. Chains snake from the corners, bolted into the stone. Inside, slouched against the bars, is a man.

He’s sitting like he owns the place, legs stretched out, head tilted, his black eyes locked onto mine, unreadable and endless. His shirt’s torn, bloodstained, and hanging off him. His lips stretch, revealing a smile full of teeth. Not fangs. Just teeth. I expected a vampire to always have their fangs on display, but the ones I’ve seen lately look quite normal.

After a moment, he gets to his feet and steps out from the shadows. He has a sharp, unwavering gaze. He looks down at me, a mop of messy dark-blond hair sits on top of his head, with wisps falling across his forehead. Dressed in a black shirt and black pants, his tattooed skin looks pale in the dim lighting. An inky snake tattoo wraps around his forearm, weaving up to his large, delicious-looking bicep.

He tilts his head, those dark, creepy eyes tracing up my body like I’m a mouse that has gotten itself cornered in his lair. Sweat breaks out across my forehead, and I remind myself there are thick, metal bars between us.

He is caged in.

‘Who are you?’ I demand, lifting my chin as I avoid his eyes, practically burning a hole into his forehead. I’m not naive, I know their tricks and their mind games. I will not let him control me.

He spends another long moment appraising me, as if not quite sure what to make of me.

‘Theo,’ he says, and a cool shiver inches down my spine at the sound of his deep voice. ‘And you?’

‘You have no right to ask,’ I hiss, jaw clenching and unclenching as I try to reign in my anger and terror, the two emotions clashing inside me with such startling violence, it’s hard to think clearly.

His lips twitch. ‘Although you can ask me?’

‘Yes,’ I seethe. ‘You’re the killer, here. Not me.’

He looks amused. ‘Who are you?’

‘That’s not your concern.’

‘You seem lost,’ he continues, leaning onto the bars, looking at me curiously. ‘Seeing as you gracefully fell down here, I imagine you may not have known this place existed?’ He gestures lazily upwards. ‘Should get someone on that. Occupational hazard and all.’