AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Especially the Nightwalkers.
The turned vampires were mainly solitary creatures. They weren’t supposed to form clans made up of more than a few of them. Julian Koenig’s “kingdom” boasted hundreds of the turned vamps before a shifter used the Claws Clause to execute the Nightwalker.
And he brought that “kingdom” all the way to Grayson to establish it.
Why? Tabby didn’t know. Neither did Boone—and her uncle wanted the answer to that question desperately. So if she couldn’t give him Adam, she wanted to solve the riddle of Grayson.
Too bad it wasn’t as easy as that.
Didn’t matter who she asked, whether they were a target or a peaceful Para who she managed to pick out of the crowd. No one had an answer for her. Some sensed she was a slayer, though she was super careful not to throw that word around again, and they tried their best to help her. It’s just… they didn’t seem to know.
She could’ve dealt. It was only one night. She had many more before her uncle started to demand results. But the frustration only got to her because Eddie insisted on tagging along.
He was smarter this time. Instead of backing down when she tried to tell him to go, he just kept in step beside her until she finally huffed and gave in.
Then there was her headache.
At least, it started as a headache. About an hour into their hunt, the non-stop rap, tap, tapping of her brain beating against her skull had her normally good temper sinking into the toilet and fast. She tried to hide her wince, squinting her eyes when the street lamps and headlights seemed too bright.
The chills followed, then the sweats, and Tabby didn’t know what was worse: shivering despite the warmth in the air, or the slick moisture pooling at the nape of her neck. Scooping up the ends of her ponytail, she wiped it with the back of her hand, wishing she’d just stayed in. It wasn’t often that she felt off, but when she did?
Ugh.
She couldn't explain it, either. It was early June on the east coast. Flu season had come and gone, and with the witches adding a little oomph to the annual flu vaccines, Tabby decided you had to be a real ding dong—or work real hard at being one—if you still managed to come down with the virus.
Tell that to her aching bones.
Everything hurt. Nothing she couldn’t handle, and once she tossed back an aspirin later on, she was sure she’d be fine, but that plus Eddie had her tensing up, then trying to shake loose the pain.
He noticed. Of course he did. As one of her uncle’s top men, he had the same training that Boone put her through. He wasn’t just a top slayer who often flawlessly executed his kills; Eddie also had excellent observational skills. Well, except for picking up on how little she wanted him. Miraculously, when it came to her disdain for him, he was suddenly clueless.
When Tabby slowed down after their chat with a lone Othersider, Eddie called it for the night. It was closing in on three a.m., the witching hour, and if they hadn’t gathered any intel yet, it was unlikely they would past three. Considering what it did to some Paras, they’d have to trade their cajoling for their weapons instead.
She was always up for a hunt. It was her passion. Her calling. The only life she knew… but Tabby would be lying if she said she was up to a fight for her life just about then. The most she thought she could handle as Eddie drove her back across town was wrestling with her pillow.
No surprise, he tried to talk her into letting him stay over. Good thing she was still feeling well enough to nip that in the bud. Even when he promised he’d camp out on her couch in case she needed him, she scoffed and told him to return to headquarters.
He did, though it didn’t take an empat
h to pick up on how disappointed he was.
Great, she thought. As if her attraction to a Nightwalker wasn’t bad enough, now she had a persistent Eddie Daniels to deal with.
Tabby wasn’t naïve. Even if she was, Eddie’s motives were so thin, she could see through them like they were Saran wrap. Being a slayer had always been a family gig. Of course, as the family widened and people married into the line, there were fewer and fewer who could trace their roots back to Van Helsing himself.
The Matthews—her mother’s line—could.
The Daniels couldn’t.
There was no doubt in her mind that he wanted to get her into bed. He was definitely attracted to her. But her tie to Boone and her place in the Society was a big flashing prize for Eddie.
No fucking thanks.
She had only gotten about an hour or so of hard-earned sleep when she heard the knock at her door and wondered vaguely if Boone would really hold it against her if she mistook Eddie for a rogue vamp and threw Venice at his head.
Unfortunately, her uncle would probably just give her the I’m-so-disappointed-in-you-Tabitha look that was the bane of her teenage years if she came to him with that story. So, when the knocking continued, she grumbled against her pillow before slowly throwing the thin comforter away from her.
Earlier, she’d felt like such crap that she didn’t even bother changing out of her hunting clothes. She didn’t see the point when she didn’t manage to find a single target worthy of Venice last night. As soon as she booted Eddie out the door, she kicked off her sneaks and collapsed on her bed.
