Fangs and Fennel (The Venom Trilogy #2)(37)

The gondola lurched and hopped along the cables. Dahlia grabbed the railing to balance herself. I stood in the center of the tiny box, swaying slightly but riding it out.

“Don’t be angry.” Dahlia looked over her shoulder at me. “Please.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m capable of,” I snapped. “Just don’t.”

She shrugged and stepped back from the railing. “Fine. You want to lead? Then lead. Try not to get us both killed.”

Her words were covered with a layer of heat that I’d never gotten from her before.

We locked eyes, and I didn’t back down. I was not weak. I wasn’t, and I’d prove it.

I took a step forward as the tiny boxcar slowed and bumped against something. I moved so I was right in front of the sliding door. It opened, and I walked through with my head held high.

In front of me was a huge wooden mansion, three stories tall, and it sprawled over the top of the mountain and into the trees so I couldn’t see where it ended. Windows glittered like dark eyes staring out at us, winking in the torchlight like leering old perverts, beckoning us closer. I shivered, not liking the imagery or where it took my thoughts one bit.

I steeled my back. No matter how little Dahlia believed in me, no matter how little Tad believed in me, I knew I could do this. I had to, if not to prove them wrong, then to prove to myself that I wasn’t the anchor holding my friends down. That I could protect myself and them when the crunch time came.

The open path ahead of me was lit with torches on either side, and I strode between them. I snapped my fingers back at her. “Keep up, Dahlia.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and then hurried to do as I’d suggested. I didn’t want to make a scene of things. But she was wrong; I could do this.

Even if I was terrified that I would screw it up and get us both killed.

A roll of fog curled up around my ankles as I walked, and for a second I thought I was shifting.

“Theatrics, he loves a show,” Dahlia breathed out.

I didn’t react, just kept moving. The thick cover rolled up in front of me, and I kept moving into it, as if I didn’t care that—I slammed into a body, nose to nose.

Yelping, I bounced back from the fog and hit Dahlia, and the two of us tumbled back onto the ground, limbs tangling. So much for a strong first impression.

Her eyes narrowed, and she pinched her mouth shut as I struggled to get upright as fast as possible. “Great intro,” she mumbled.

I looked up to see Santos emerge from the fog, rubbing his nose. A giggle full of nerves bubbled up in my chest. “You know, you should tell people you’re trying to make a big show of things. I thought it was a test of courage, not your entrance music, so to speak.”

Dahlia let out a soft groan. “Don’t irritate him further.”

Santos lifted an eyebrow, and again I got that sense I knew him from somewhere, like I’d met him before all of this. I pushed to my feet and held a hand out to Dahlia. She didn’t take it, and I turned away from her.

“Tell me,” Santos drawled, his words humming along my skin, “did you come to surrender?”

“Not exactly.” I tucked my hands behind my back, then brought them around the front and finally folded my arms. “I . . . Remo is not who I thought he was. He tried to force himself on me.”

“And I give a shit, why, exactly?” He smiled. “How do you know I wouldn’t do the same?”

Oh dear, this was going downhill faster than if someone had indeed cut the gondola cables. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. What could I say to that?

“Because we know things about him and his operation.” Dahlia stepped up. “Perhaps we could trade information for protection.”

He leaned back, a big booming laugh rolling from his mouth. His fangs flashed in the flickering torchlight, reminding me that I shouldn’t underestimate him.

“My blood.” I paused and glanced at Dahlia, who shook her head. “It—”

“Tastes good? All blood tastes good. Did you think you were something special? Something I’ve never seen before? I’ve been around as long as Remo, and I’ve seen it all. You’re just a souped-up version of a naga.” He made a dismissive wave with his hand, and I frowned.

All around us, vampires shot from the darkness, weapons in hand.

Dahlia pressed against me. “If you’re going to lead, now is the time to do it.”

She was right. I gathered what courage I had left to me and swallowed hard.

“Listen here, hamster balls, I am special.” I took several steps until we were so close I could see the violet-blue flecks in the darkness of his eyes. I lowered my voice and pushed power into the words, knowing they were true, and knowing he knew it too. “I am special.”

His eyelids fluttered, and he lifted a hand that slowed the advance of his troops. “You . . . are special.”

I lowered my voice to a bare whisper, banking our lives on what I said next. “And you want to talk with me and Dahlia in private.”

He raised his other hand and waved it around. “Leave them to me; I want to talk to them in private.”

So apparently he had already wanted this? Or was I getting stronger? Sweating, I fluttered my eyelashes up at him. “Tell them not to disturb us.”

“You will not disturb us!” He bellowed right in my face. He did not smell like Remo at all. The scent of licorice hovered in the air between us. The same smell I’d picked up on the oil that had burned me. I had to fight not to step back. Santos stepped to my side and curled an arm around my waist, tugging me tight to his side.