Predatory (Immortal Guardians #3.5)(123)

I wasn’t sure which one—if either—that I was doing so I worked to pull my eyes open. I needed to protect Nicolette—frail, battered Nicolette.

Nicolette, who was vaulting directly toward me, absolute hate in her eyes, knuckles burning white as she gripped a length of metal pipe.

“Nicolette?”

She bared her teeth and let out the most heinous banshee-like scream I’d ever heard. My hands went up instinctively and I grabbed the pipe as it sliced through the air toward me. She was basically growling now, teeth clenched, chin shiny with saliva. I held the pipe but Nicolette was surprisingly strong. She lurched and caught me square in the gut with the sole of her foot; I crashed through the glass door, shards catching the moonlight and dancing like little stars. My shoulder blades slapped against the concrete and Nicolette wasted no time, dropping the pipe and clawing at my neck.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong with me!” she spat. “Why won’t you f**king die? You were on fire—and frozen—and now—die!”

Her hands went to me again and I squirmed. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked until I heard strands breaking. She pulled her arm back to show me my own hair, no longer attached to my scalp. Her grin was wide and terrifyingly maniacal.

“You bitch!”

Wallop me with a metal pipe, sure. Try and choke me? Whatever. Mess with my hair? I will seriously end you.

I felt my sharpening fangs and unholy rage roar through me. I was about to lunge—and finish—Nicolette when a shriek cut through the night and my winged nemesis dive-bombed. I was sure he was some sort of beaked bastion of hell answering Nicolette’s beckon until he skidded over her forehead, talons extending, cutting wide gashes across her cheeks and nose.

She recoiled and swatted at the thing but it was gone instantly. I used the distraction to buck Nicolette off of me, and suddenly Pike was there and he was gripping her, dragging her away from me.

“She’s crazy!” I screamed.

“You’re crazy!” Nicolette’s eyes were on fire.

“What happened?” Pike yelled, still holding Nicolette back.

“She attacked me!” We were both pointing fingers, but I was gaping.

I paused and stared at Pike. “Wait, where the hell did you come from?”

“Kill her!” Nicolette screamed. “She’s a thief just like my damn sister!”

“You—”

“I’m the designer,” she spat. “Not you, not Emerson, or Fairfield. Me!”

“Because you got the Barbie Design Studio,” Pike said.

“And Emerson stole it!”

“So you killed her?” I asked.

Rage roiled through Nicolette’s body. “She stole everything!”

Nicolette’s screams were drowned out by the wailing of sirens and before she could finish her psychotic reasoning, police officers and paramedics were flooding out of their cars and rushing toward us.

Moyer was one of them. He jutted his chin toward Pike. “You sure about her?”

“She admitted it.”

Hopkins raced in with a pair of cuffs and Nicolette was subdued and led away, though she was still squirming and screaming, doing her best to kick and bite poor Hopkins.

“Hey, you okay?” Pike touched my arm gently.

“How did you—oh, God, the drain cleaner. I smelled it all over her but I didn’t put two and two together.”

A sad smile played at the edges of his lips. “Why would you?”

“Well, you obviously put something together or did you just happen to—” I happened to glance down at Pike’s hand, still soft on my arm. His fingernails were tinged with the slightest bit of deep red. I narrowed my eyes, unease flooding my body. “You know what I am because of what you are, huh?”

Pike’s eyes grew and he led me away from the officers checking out the scene. “Yeah.”

“And here I thought Emerson was the unholy one.”

He looked genuinely offended. “I’m not unholy. I’m an ancient legend—my family has been shifting for hundreds of generations.”

“Shifting? So what are you—?” I paused, glancing down at those nails again and then backing away. “No. Oh, no. No.”

“What?”

“You’re the bird. You’re the f**king black bird, aren’t you?”

“Crow.”

“Diseased flying rodent . . .”

Pike’s lip curled into a snarl. “Those are pigeons. And you should talk! Bats are, like, the most rabid animals in history.”

I was suddenly more offended by Pike than I was by Nicolette’s attempted thrashing. “I do not turn into a bat!”

Moyer stepped over, his bushy eyebrows curved down in confusion. “Ugh, are you guys through here? We’re just about to take Nicolette downtown. Apparently, she planned to take out all three of the competitors and launch her own fashion show at the end of it.”

Pike grimaced.

“Well, it does make sense. Her cuts on Emerson’s fabric were impeccable—except for going against the grain.”

Both Moyer and Pike gaped at me and I shrugged. “Just an observation.”

“Anyway,” Moyer said to me. “Good thing she didn’t get her hands on you.”