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Gah, curse his stubbornness. Seriously, I’m one step away from intentionally using my succubus powers on him.
I may have to, if I could figure out how to use them, anyway. Then Peyton interrupts as she materializes in the doorway.
“Oh, my crazy faeries, will you two stop bickering like a bunch of old wizards?” she says. “There’s a pretty easy solution to your problem.”
“Which is?” Hunter asks, protectively pulling me closer to his side.
A smile curls at her lips. “Vampire blood.”
8
Evalee
Okay, I know what you’re probably thinking at this point. Is Eva really going to turn into a vampire just so she can save her fake, dead sister? If that were the case, if that was the only way I could save her, the answer would be yes. Ryleigh may have pretended to be my fake sister, but the emotional connection I felt toward her still resides inside my body.
I can’t let the society kill her. I can’t let her become a killer. I need to help her somehow.
Fortunately, going all vamp isn’t what Peyton meant.
See, here’s the deal with vampire blood that not a lot of people know. If someone simply takes a little taste, they get unlimited vampire power for a temporary amount of time, which means super strength, freakishly good hearing, lightning quick speed, and badass ninja moves. There’s only one tiny problem with this awesome plan. And by problem, I mean a very broody, stubborn, controlling, albeit sexy wizard.
“No way,” Hunter says, shaking his head. “If she dies while the blood’s in her system, then she’ll be one of you.”
“Dude, what is with all the ‘no ways’ today?” I ask, gaping at him. “And when did you get so controlling? You sure as hell weren’t like this a week ago when things were normal.”
“Exactly.” He steps closer to me, and I have to tip my chin up to meet his eyes. “A week ago, things were normal. A week ago, a town full of demons wasn’t after your power. A week ago, you didn’t have some damn perverted demon trying to screw you.”
“Screw me?” I shake my head. “You mean, screw with me.”
“No, I mean screw you.” He rolls his eyes at my expression, which I’m sure can only be described as idiotically stupid. Then he leans in and lowers his voice. “Whether you believe it or not, there’s been a ton of guys who have wanted you and still do. And that’s been fine in the past—it’s not like you ever paid attention to any of them. But when it’s a demon—a cocky, douchebag demon, for that matter—it makes me worry.”
“Is there really any other sort of demon besides cocky, douches?” I joke, totally missing the mark.
He frowns. “You’re not. But other than that, no.”
“Maybe I would be if I knew how to use my demon power,” I suggest, crossing my arms.
The room grows silent for a beat before both Peyton and Hunter bust up laughing,
“Can you imagine a cocky Eva?” Peyton says through her tears of laughter.
Hunter continues to laugh. “That’d be like Troy suddenly becoming humble.”
They give each other a high-five.
Well, at least they’re bonding. Granted, it’s over making fun of me, but whatever.
“Fine. Laugh all you want. I’ve got some vampire blood to drink and a freak show to get to.” I turn to leave, when Hunter folds his fingers around my arm. “Let me go. I’m going to do this whether you like it or not. I’ll put a sleepy spell on you if I have to.” If that isn’t an empty threat, I don’t know what is.
A sleepy spell? Really, Eva? Hunter knows you can’t do those.
His grip loosens a smidgeon. “Look, I get that you want to do this, but I can’t let you go alone. And while I’m confident in my magic skills, if we get ambushed by a group of demons, I won’t be able to protect you.”
“You could always drink the vampire blood, too.” Peyton smirks when Hunter targets her with a fuck-you look. “That is, unless you’re too scared your perfect wizard blood will get tainted by my nasty, toxic, more powerful blood.”
“That’s not what I’m afraid of,” Hunter all but growls.
Peyton raises her brows, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Then what’s the problem?”
He grits his teeth. “I guess there isn’t one.”
“Really?” I say then throw my arms around Hunter. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
He hugs me back tightly. “But you have to promise me one thing.”
“Name it, and it’s yours,” I say, letting my arms fall from him.
“If at any time, things look too dangerous, we bail out.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “And, under no circumstances are you to go anywhere with Max. You will stay near me at all times and make no deals with that devil of an asshole.”
I nod, though it feels like a lie.
Because, deep down, I know I’ll go with Max if it means saving Ryleigh.
9
Max
Tick tock. Tock, tock. Tick … Tick … tick …
“What the hell is wrong with that clock?” I mutter as I make my way down the cobblestone streets of Mystic Willow Bay.
God, I hate this place, even more so than the Faerie Realm, which I’ve been to twice—not by choice, of course. Both times I was there, I was force fed a lot of pastries, and it took me at least five times of washing my clothes to get all the glitter off. Seriously, the fey have issues with glitter. I’ve even seen them eat it a couple of times.
That doesn’t mean I entirely despise them. They have their purposes. Like tonight, for instance, I’m seeking the help of a faerie. Well, pretending to seek her help, anyway. Really, I’m trying to prove a point, not to myself, but to Eva. My point being: never trust anyone.
I just wish I didn’t have to go through such extreme measures to lure Eva out of her overly charmed house. Seriously, I don’t know what the deal is with putting so many charms up. It makes it too complicated for demons like me to get in and take Eva. And I hate complications. Which, if I don’t hurry my ass up, I’m going to end up having too many on my hands.
My boots thud against the ground as I quicken my pace. I’m wearing my normal, I’m-just-an-average-guy look: black jeans and a black shirt topped off with leather bands on my wrists. The only color I have on is the silver metal of my facial piercings. Which is good. It’s dark enough that, if I need to hide, all I have to do is run into the trees and I’d blend in with the night. Sure, there are very little creatures I’d actually run away from, but a few particular demons do have a bit more power than me. One in particular being the big boss in charge of the underground tunnels. You know, the ones where all the dead bodies are being trafficked.
He also wants to get his grimy hands on Eva, either to feed off her power or for a more sinister reason. I haven’t figured out his exact motive yet. Me, I want Eva for a different reason, but my motive is also sinister.
If you’re freaking out at this point, I don’t know why. I’m a demon. What did you expect me to say? That I’m doing all of this to protect Eva?
Anyway, back to the present. I’m currently heading to meet up with a faerie before going to the freak show to meet Eva.
The town clock sounds like a dying time machine, and tons of vampires, werewolves, witches, and wizards surround me. I’m unsure if they’re all going to the freak show or simply wandering around town. I find it amusing how oblivious they all are to the dan
gers present everywhere. Like, for example, on the corner of the street is a boarded-up building. Behind the boards is a bar strictly for demons only. Inside that bar, demons are plotting to ambush the freak show, simply out of bitterness for not being invited. Amateurs.
The first rule of an ambush is to always have a good purpose.
Another posing threat to the town are the demons currently tucked away underground. And they have a bigger plan in store for Mystic Willow Bay. I just don’t know what yet.
The most current threat to the town lies a few feet ahead of me. And that is the blond-haired, pale-skinned, rotting flesh zombie staggering through the mob of people.
Ryleigh, Eva’s fake sister turned zombie, looks positively hungry as she eyeballs the citizens around her. Blood is dripping from her brain-hungry gaze, a bit of drool drips from her lips, and her dress is covered in dirt, which leaves me wondering what she was doing before she got here.
Normally, if I spotted a zombie about to unleash their brain lust on Mystic Willow Bay, I’d grab a bottle of whiskey, sit back, and watch the scene unfold. But I need this particular zombie not to have any brains on her hands for the time being—at least brains from someone she’s killed. Otherwise, my plan won’t work. So, before she can devour the chubby, old wizard she’s eyeballing, I hurry up and grab her arm.
She reels around, fixing her red eyes on me and nipping her teeth.
“Easy.” I pet her head to calm her down because, believe it or not, zombies love being pet.
She leans into my touch, but her eyes are full of panic. “Gah, argh, oooo?” she mutters a bunch of incoherent noises. Fortunately, I’m fluent in zombie.
“I’m Max,” I tell her. “The person who saved your body from being trafficked by demons.”
A single tear of blood drips from her eyes. “Oooo …”
Poor zombie. She looks so confused and upset.
