Deathtrap (Crossbreed #3)(8)

“Thanks.”

“I’m not suggesting that Blue isn’t,” he quickly added, “but Gem gravitates toward people who are like her in some ways.”

That made me think of my odd little bond with Christian. I was already forming different connections with everyone in the house. I hadn’t grown up in a big family, and even though this was work, it was probably the closest thing to family I’d ever know again.

“There. Done.”

I blinked at myself in the mirror. “Already?”

He flung the scissors into an open drawer and mussed up my hair. “Regretting your decision? Because I could shave a little spot in the back—”

I slapped his hand. “Get away from me, Claude Scissorhands.”

He removed the gown tied around my neck and shook it out. “I’m closing up here soon—after I finish with Gem.” Claude lowered my chair using the foot pedal.

A woman handed him something, and the next thing I knew, he was wrapping a hot towel around my face, leaving just enough space in the center for me to breathe.

“Just relax and close your eyes,” he said, massaging my neck.

“That’s what I say to all my victims.”



Something jarred me out of my nap, and it took me a second to remember that I’d nodded off in Claude’s salon, and I wasn’t actually blind, but there was a towel on my face.

My hair stood on end when another pulse of energy crackled against my skin. It was stronger than a Mage flaring, like a spike in power you feel during a fight. I shot up in my seat and flung the towel to the floor. The salon was empty except for the sound of Gem and Claude talking loudly over the blow-dryer in the back. The floors were swept up, the drawers closed, and the employees gone.

The hair dryer switched off. Gem appeared, her wavy hair blown in every direction as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. The pale-lavender color was more vibrant and had an ombré effect that faded to silver.

“Did you feel that?” she asked, brushing her hands up her arms.

Claude’s nostrils flared as he stalked toward the front door. Gem and I followed behind him. Though it wasn’t completely dark outside, the lights in the parking lot had switched on. I rubbed my itchy neck and tried to dust away some of the tiny hairs.

The second Claude unlocked the door and cracked it open, he turned his head, and I watched his golden eyes morph to black.

“Claude, what’s wrong?”

“He can’t hear you anymore,” Gem whispered. “He’s flipped his switch.”

The door swung open, and Claude flew out, a whirlwind of snowflakes melting as soon as they hit the floor. I didn’t bother grabbing my coat. Gem and I flashed to the left to catch up with him, but I skidded out of control when I turned the corner around the side of the building.

We both stopped at the same time, staring in disbelief at Claude crouched on the hood of a car parked between his salon and another building. A thin layer of snow glistened on the concrete, but most of the parking lot was a slushy mess. The businesses were closed, so it seemed peculiar to see a car backed up against his building. A thick layer of snow covered the trunk and hood, leaving me to believe it had been out here for at least a day.

Whatever internal switch that kept him human had shut off, and what remained was a Chitah in his primal state. Still a man, but ripples of spotted patterns flashed across his arms and neck, deadly upper and lower fangs gleaming in the dim light and animalistic instincts driving his every decision.

I sharpened my light and slowly approached the car. He punched through the windshield with his fist, glass shattering in a spiral around the point of impact.

“What’s he doing?” Gem asked.

Claude ripped away large chunks of the windshield. While he crawled through the opening, we hurried to the passenger side.

Gem wiped the snow off the glass so we could see inside. When Claude reached into the backseat, I noticed something.

“Claude, open the door!” I pounded on the window and jiggled the handle. “Open up!”

Gem hurried to the front of the car and circled to the driver’s side. “They’re all locked! Claude, you need to snap out of it. Open the door so we can help!”

She brushed away some of the glass from the hood, but I was already leaping onto the car. Without a second to lose, I crawled into the passenger seat, not even caring if he turned on me. I unlocked the door, but before I could open it for Gem, I glimpsed a woman in the backseat, fresh blood covering her hands and neck.

Claude turned to look at me, and his eyes were no longer onyx. Tears welled in them—angry tears. His lips peeled back, revealing sharp canines. “She’s gone.”

“What happened?”

Gem got the door halfway open and then jumped back when she saw the body. “I’ll call for help.”

“Don’t bother,” Claude said in disgust. “Just call the cleaners.”

Still breathing hard, he turned around and sat in the driver’s seat, his cheeks flushed. He didn’t seem to notice or care that his hands were bleeding.

I got a better look at the woman. The spike in energy that I’d felt in the salon had to be related. Someone had just murdered this woman; the blood was still trickling down her neck where someone had cut her throat.

I faced forward, the frigid wind blowing through the open windshield. “Why were the doors locked?”