Almost Midnight (Shadow Falls: After Dark #3.5)(2)

She stepped back, but the heel of her shoe twisted and she lost her footing. Her leg shot up in the air and she went down with a loud thud.

Slamming butt first, her hands went back to catch herself. She felt a sharp pain in her palm, no doubt from a piece of glass from a broken beer bottle a few inches away. Wincing, she muttered, “Shi…” The one-word curse hadn’t yet left her lips when the dead silence suddenly drew her attention upward. The fighting had stopped and at least six guys, young, about her age, starting moving toward her. Moving oddly, as if … Their posture reminded her of a pack of animals coming to check out their prey.

Della’s focus shifted from the group’s strange body movements to their eyes. Her heart jolted when she saw their eyes glowing burnt orange. Then low growling noises filled the shadows. “What the—”

Before she could finish her sentence, they were upon her. “Human. Yum,” one of them said.

Tension filled her chest. “I’m leaving.” She jumped to her feet.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her, and knew they had her surrounded. The growling escalated and for a second she could swear the sounds weren’t human. She turned, hoping to find a path to run, but instantly something grabbed her around her middle and a cold wind blasted against her face. She felt dizzy, disoriented, as if she were suddenly traveling at high speeds like she was on a roller coaster. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. Darkness surrounded her and it took a second to realize she had her eyes closed. She tried to open them, but the rush of air coming at her stung so badly she slammed them shut. What the hell was happening? Now it felt as if … as if she were flying.

Or falling. No, not falling—someone, or something had her.

Her lungs screamed for air, but what she thought was an arm wrapped around her stomach and cut off her ability to breathe. She tried to yank herself free, but her efforts were futile. Whoever had her was built of steel, and his flesh felt cold, hard. Something wet seemed to ooze from her hand and she realized it was her blood from where she’d cut herself.

Right then, the cut started to burn. Burn badly, as if someone had just doused it with rubbing alcohol. The searing pain seemed to follow her arm upward, all the way to her chest, and for a second, her heart didn’t beat. She gasped, hoping to breathe, but nothing seemed to get through to her lungs. Refusing to let the fear stop her, she forced the words out, “Let me go, you *!”

A jolt shot through her body as her feet hit the ground. The arm released her. Her knees buckled, but she caught herself at the last second and shot her eyes open. Blinking, she tried to focus, but everything appeared blurry.

“Breathe,” someone said and she recognized the deep, masculine voice. Recognized Chan.

Ghosts did exist?

No, they couldn’t.

A couple more seconds later, her vision cleared and holy mother of pearls, she was right. Chan stood directly in front of her. Nausea hit. Her palm still burned. She grabbed her middle, bent over, and puked all over the front of her dead cousin.

“Oh, shit!” He lurched back.

She stood upright again and stared, thinking that any minute now she’d wake up. Or maybe it wasn’t a dream. Had someone slipped something into her drink tonight? She pressed her palms into her eyes and didn’t care that she was probably smearing blood from the cut on her hand all over her face.

When she dropped her hands, Chan stared, only now his black eyes glowed a bright green color.

He jumped back from her. “You’re bleeding!”

“You’re dead.” She pressed her bloody hand on her middle, hoping to squelch the nausea and wipe away the sting.

He pinched his black brows together and stared harder. “Friggin’ hell! You’re turning.”

“No, I’m not! I’m standing still. In one spot,” she snapped. “Then again, I do feel dizzy.” She closed her eyes and then popped them back open again.

“You needed help so I … I didn’t know you’d cut yourself or—”

“I did not need your help, I would have … I would have figured something out.”

He shook his head. “Still hardheaded, huh?”

She hugged herself. “What just happened? No, what is happening?” She looked around and saw they were no longer anywhere near Lisa’s house or that dark alley where she’d gone looking for … “You’re dead, Chan. How can you be here?”

He shook his head and stared at her forehead. “If I’d known you were bleeding, I wouldn’t have … I should have known you were a carrier. But if I hadn’t got you out of there, the dogs would have eaten you alive.”

She stopped listening and tried to make sense of the crap that had just happened. She remembered seeing the gang fight, then she fell, and then she’d been surrounded, and … “Oh damn, am I dead?”

“No. But you’re going to think you’re dying in just a bit. You touched me with an open wound. Your virus is turning live now. That’s why you’re feeling like you do.” He stopped talking and put his nose in the air. “Damn, the hounds are looking for us. I’ve got to get you out of here.” He reached for her and she jumped back.

“Stay away. You’ve got puke all over you.”

“It’s your puke.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want it on me. I think—” Whatever she thought went out the mental window. Once again, the wind whipped her hair around her shoulders. The long strands flipped around so hard, it stung when they slapped against her face.