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I can taste blood in my mouth, and it feels like my nose broke during the scuffle. I spit to the ground at my side, red puddles in the sunlight.
What is happening?
Why are they here?
Where is Leland?
“Oh my, this little kitten smells like my brother.” A voice came from the back of the car. “I wonder what he would do to get you back.” A man with blond hair steps out, thick, clunky boots loud on the pavement. His hair slicked back, and he has the air of someone who likes others to do his heavy lifting. No wonder he didn’t bother to fight me himself.
I snarl and thrash to get away, but whatever the chains are made of is too strong. This must be Emerson. This means either Leland has been murdered, and this bastard came to gloat, or he had planned to lure the fighters away so he could attack while our leader is distracted.
Fuck.
He places a booted foot on my chest. “What a pretty little thing you are.” he licks his lips. “I’ll enjoy making you suffer for my brother’s crimes against me.” He kicks me in the head once, and all I can hear is ringing. The focus in my eyes blurs.
I have failed.
I am unable to keep us safe.
Another hefty kick and I spat even more blood out of my mouth, a tooth came with it.
What is he wearing?
Steel-toes?
Why?
A third kick and everything goes black.
Emerson Holt. I spend the night anticipating. It is the only thing I can do to keep my head from exploding. My creator is out there dealing with the most vicious of our kind I’ve ever met.
Perpetrator of the most unspeakable things since Leland turned him, not to mention the sort of things he’d done before. He is an excellent liar, his innocent face makes people think he is a kind soul, and we quickly learned he wasn’t. It was right when we came to America that he flipped the switch as far as we know. He'd hidden it well if he’d done anything evil and demonic while with us in Europe.
But what he’d done when we turned our backs for one night…
It was disgusting.
Heis disgusting.
Wren looked ill when I told her, and I’d spared her the details, but the broad stroke of what happened was enough.
This is the kind of monster Leland had made a vampire.
What’s worse is that I had practically begged him for it.
I rub my temples. Vampires don’t get headaches, but whenever my mind is pulled in enough directions it sure seems like I will. I don’t blame Wren for avoiding me most of the night. I am certainly not a joy to be around, and everyone who remains in the house is on edge. Even if they don’t know Emerson, they’d all heard the stories.
Hours pass, and Wren leaves to watch the lake in hopes of closure. Even if I want to protect her from everything, she needs this. But my mind can’t stop wondering why we haven’t heard from Leland. Something isn’t right. He’s not dead, Emerson would’ve gloated about that by now, but Emerson isn’t dead either, or Leland would’ve checked in by now.
No, something is wrong.
Madness will settle in soon if I don't hearsomethingfrom someone. I should have insisted Leland take the whole coven for this, that we go in heavy and hard. I know he is hoping he can go in with the element of surprise and that a smaller team is better for that, but Emerson is not a stupid man. He will be prepared for Leland’s wrath this close to us.
Light spills into the living room and stretches across the floor to the study.
Dawn.
Morning came on too quickly, and my stomach pits. There is definitely something wrong. He should have checked in by now. Say he went there and decided to wait a night, he’d have told us. We would have to go when the sun sets in the evening. I would arm and take everyone. Another hour passes, I look for Wren in the living room, but she isn’t there. Turning to Charlee, I ask, “Have you seen Wren come back yet?”
