A Kiss of Blood (Vamp City #2)(70)

“I have to see Zack.”

“When we reach Neo’s, I would suggest you remain outside, cara. I’ll bring Zack out to you.”

“How are you feeling, Quinn?” Micah asked. “Do you feel any different? More powerful?”

Even as tired as she felt, the power continued to flow beneath her skin like a creek beneath a thin layer of ice. “It’s hard to say. Before, the power came and went, and when it started to rise, it hurt. It’s never left me this time. But it doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t feel like it’s rising. More like it’s part of me now, if that makes any sense.”

Arturo reached back and squeezed her knee. “You need to test it, to learn what you can do. We’ll work on that once you’ve gotten some sleep.”

“She may get a chance to do that right now,” Micah said quietly, his voice suddenly razor-sharp. “We’ve got company.”

Quinn jerked upright, her gaze following Micah’s. Indistinct shapes loomed on the hill ahead, in between the trees. Four of them. Men.

“Werewolves?” she asked.

“Rippers.”

Adrenaline flooded her body all over again, washing away her exhaustion.

As they cleared the trees, she could see them more clearly. The four were on foot and looked like they’d just walked off the streets of D.C.—dressed in jeans, tees, and jackets.

“How do you know they’re Rippers?” she asked.

“Look at their eyes,” Arturo murmured.

She squinted, frowning. “They’re red,” she said with surprise. Red where the whites should be. “Does that mean they’re hungry? Or are their eyes always like that?”

“The red presages violence. It means they intend to attack.”

“Why? Can they tell I’m human?”

“No, we’re too far. Their olfactory senses are sharper than an Emora’s, but they are not that pronounced. No, they attack because they think they can. They outnumber us. And Rippers hate Emoras.”

“We hunt them,” Micah told her. “Hunting Rippers in D.C is one of my primary, and most satisfying, jobs for Gonzaga kovena. Not only are they monsters, but they’re a danger to our race. They’re careless with their human kills.”

“Are these four trapped in Vamp City, now?”

“Probably. Any vampire—Emora or Ripper—who was here when the magic broke is trapped.”

“Be prepared to grab the reins, Quinn,” Arturo said quietly.

“You’re leaving?”

“The moment the battle engages, take the horse and go. Call to your wolves for escort if you can.”

She was glad he’d warned her because a moment later, the four Rippers disappeared in a blur. And then Arturo was gone and she was alone on the horse, sitting too far back.

The horse whinnied and sidestepped, and she grabbed the pommel. As the sound of snarls and the clank of steel erupted on either side of her, she struggled into the saddle, grabbed the reins, and inelegantly kicked the horse into gear.

But just as she thought she’d made her escape, movement ahead caught her eye. She saw the red first. And then the forms of more than half a dozen more Rippers as they stepped out from behind the trees. Holy hell. Several of them grinned, their fangs longer than Arturo’s or Micah’s, and sharper, their eyes as red as blood and cold with the promise of death.

The power beneath her flesh surged harder as her heart began to thud in her ears. If only she still had her stakes! Instead, she lifted her hand, attempting to channel that power. Aiming her palm at the middle Ripper, she willed him to fly backward.

To her amazed delight, he did, landing a good ten feet back with a shout of surprise.

She grinned, excitement sparking inside her. For the first time, she’d successfully called the power when she needed it. And without pain. This was going to be fun. But as she shifted her hand to aim at another, the Rippers blurred and were gone. Damn speedy vampires.

A heartbeat later, something slammed into her hard, knocking her off the horse and the knife out of her hand. She hit the ground back first in a blast of fiery pain. The breath left her body. Something landed on top of her.

Fangs sunk into her throat.

Shit, shit, shit.

Her mind went blank as instinct kicked in and she grabbed hold of the head latched onto her and . . . to her utter amazement . . . jerked it away. As if the vampire who’d attacked her was a seventy-pound weakling.

He stared at her, stunned. She slammed her palms against his shoulders and pushed him, hard, then stared wide-eyed when he flew back, landing on his butt by her feet.

Holy shit.

In a blur, he was standing over her, half-grinning, half-snarling. But not, she noticed, attacking. Not yet. Had she really just pushed him off her?

Quinn stared at him in shock, lifting one hand to the sticky wetness on her neck, aiming the other at him. He blurred to her right a good six feet. Quinn jumped to her own feet, rising far more easily than she’d expected to, and faced him.

He blurred, gripping her around the waist from behind, his fangs once more sinking into her shoulder. Lifting her knee, Quinn slammed her heel back into her opponent’s and heard the incredibly satisfying sound of cracking bone.

The vampire released her with a roar. She spun, leading with her elbow, and knocked him flat. This was like some kind of dream.