Darker (Alexa O'Brien, Huntress #6)(40)

Jez lived on the south side. It would take me at least twenty minutes to get there. I recognized her leopard print blanket in the photo. For the first time, I almost envied the demons and fallen angels their ability to pop from one place to another. Jez could be fighting for her life right now, and I was trapped in traffic while it happened.

“Fuck. Shit. Damn.” All useless words that made me feel equally useless.

The light turned green, and I hit the gas. It was a race against time. Lilah had to be stopped. Her desperation for my blood was killing those around me. She was forcing my hand and doing a damn good job of it. I’d already lost a wolf to her. I couldn’t lose anyone else.

I finally crossed the river to the south side. Rather than subside, my panic increased. What if they were dead because of me? I manoeuvred through traffic, cutting off more than a few people who honked or flipped me the bird.

It felt like much more than twenty-five minutes had passed since receiving Lilah’s message. I parked across the street from Jez’s swanky apartment building and killed the lights. Fear told me to rush inside; instinct demanded I take a moment to scope out the place.

A dim light shone in Jez’s second floor living room window. I reached out metaphysically, feeling for vampires, for Lilah. Nothing. That didn’t mean she wasn’t here.

Exiting the Charger, I darted across the street and blended into the shadows beyond the glow of the street light. I cloaked my energy, hoping I hadn’t been detected yet if she was in the vicinity. I held the Dragon Claw in a white-knuckled grip. If I had it my way, its blade would soon taste Lilah’s blood.

I reached the lobby door without incident. With the stealth of the wolf, I slunk into the building. The fluorescent light inside hummed loud in the otherwise quiet entry. I focused on the lock, willing the deadbolt to turn. It was much simpler than the heavy-duty locks the FPA used. Just when I began to grow frustrated, there was a loud click, and I was in.

I took the stairs two at a time until I reached the second floor. The building was oddly quiet, not so much as muffled TV noise. I stepped into the hall and paused. Empty. I sprinted down the hall to Jez’s door with the dagger held ready.

Hesitating with my hand hovering over the doorknob, I listened. Eerie silence greeted me. The raw energy of fear and death crept near. My stomach dropped, and holding my breath, I shoved the door open.

The scent of blood assaulted my nose. Fear mingled with it to produce a sickly sweet aroma. I was too late.

I moved through the small but immaculate kitchen toward the glow of light coming from the living room. There I found Jez huddled on the floor, shaking violently. She was wrapped in a throw blanket from the couch. Her face was wet with black streaks of mascara and tears. Her golden hair was a tousled mop of curls atop her shoulders. With blood smears on her hands and a cigarette clutched between her fingers, she gazed up at me as if unsure whether or not I was real.

“Jez?” I said tentatively, my gaze straying to the darkened bedroom. “Are you hurt?”

She took a long, shaky drag off the cigarette. Jez hadn’t smoked in a year now. She must have had a pack stashed away. It took several attempts for her to get the words out.

“She killed Zoey.”

“Where is she?” I was dumbstruck with disbelief. This couldn’t be happening.

“Lilah? She’s gone. Zoey? In there.” Jez pointed to the bedroom and a fresh flood of tears emerged. She made no attempt to wipe them away.

A sick feeling gripped me as I made my way to Jez’s room. I didn’t want to see this, but I had no choice. The thick scent of blood grew as I drew closer. The faint light shining through the open blinds cast a silver glow on Zoey’s prone form. My keen eyesight was more than good enough to see in the dimness, but I reached for the light switch anyway, needing the false comfort of the overhead light.

Pale yellow illumination bathed the room. I held my breath, unwilling to breathe in that sweet hybrid blood. What I saw was horrifying, and though he’d been dead for more than a year, my first thought was of Raoul. Because I had loved him despite what a pompous, selfish ass he was, I had promised myself I’d keep Zoey safe, for him.

Zoey lay sprawled on the bed. Two sets of vampire bites marred her carotid artery. Blood stained the pillow beneath her. She had bled out quickly. Her bright blue eyes, now dimmed in death, stared off toward the ceiling. Jez had thrown a blanket over her to hide her nudity. Otherwise, the scene was untouched.

I’m sorry, Raoul. Zoey had never been one of my favorite people. She had killed her father and hurt both Kylarai and Arys as well as an innocent man. Perhaps I should have left her in the woods as wolf, but I’d felt it my duty to restore her to human form. Not once did I see her as anything other than a liability I was forced to accept. That didn’t mean she deserved to die.

Returning to the living room, I sank to my knees beside Jez. I laid the dagger on the carpet and pulled her into my arms. She sagged against me before throwing her arms around me and sobbing. I plucked the cigarette from her fingers and tossed it in a Coke can on the coffee table. The sizzle as it hit the contents was loud, poignant, accompanied by Jez’s heartbreaking cries.

Tears filled my eyes; rage filled my heart. Two of my wolves had now died at Lilah’s hand. She wasn’t going to stop, not until I stopped her.

“I’m so sorry, Jez. I’m going to make her suffer for this. Somehow. I promise.”