Predatory (Page 32)

Sliding along fences and gliding around trash cans—he slid and glided, she shuffled and tripped—they drew close to the house. Then he raised his hand to stop her. He grew still again, and she held her breath. She wanted the house to be empty so they could leave for somewhere safe.

“There’s one person in there.” He sounded grim.

She didn’t question how he knew. “Anyone you know?”

“Yes.” With no other explanation, he guided her to the back door. He did his magic door-opening thing again and slipped into a darkened kitchen. He beckoned her inside.

Cassie was beyond thought, beyond feeling, beyond everything. Right now he was the only real thing in her life. So she followed him.

He moved quietly into what must be the living room. She couldn’t hear his footsteps. Behind him, she was an elephant tramping through a field of bubble wrap, announcing her presence with every step she took.

For the first time, she noticed the smell. It was coppery and too familiar.

He stopped so suddenly that she almost slammed into his back.

“Hello, Ethan.” The male voice came from whoever was sitting in an overstuffed chair she could see silhouetted in the darkness.

“Dan. What’re you doing here?”

Ethan’s voice might sound neutral, but she sensed tension, and something else.

“Trying to figure out who the hell to call.” The man’s, or maybe vampire’s, voice sounded terrified. “I couldn’t reach you on your cell. Then I came here. I used the key you gave me. No one was here, but . . .” His voice trailed off.

Cassie moved up beside Ethan. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and there was a tiny bit of light filtering in through the slats of the blinds. She could now see that the room was trashed—furniture overturned and pictures knocked from the wall. There were dark stains on the walls and carpet. “Is that . . . ?” Blood.

The other man said it for her. “There’s freaking blood everywhere. Fresh blood. What’s going on, Ethan?”

That explained the coppery scent. The rising panic in his voice mirrored her own emotions. She wished someone would turn on a light so she could see both of them. Then she thought of Roland Garrity hunting them and decided the darkness was just fine.

“I’ll explain later. Do you have your car?”

Cassie didn’t have to be particularly sensitive to feel Ethan’s rage. It didn’t seem aimed at the man in the chair. She thought that Roland Garrity should be very afraid.

“No. There was nowhere to park, so June just dropped me off. I told her I didn’t know how long I was staying, and I’d call her when I was ready to leave.”

Cassie had kept silent as long as she could. “Who is this, Ethan?” Using his name sort of moved him a little out of the mythic-monster column into the almost-human one.

Ethan turned to look at her. In the darkness, his face became a stranger’s again, all sharp planes and dangerous shadows. She’d been wrong. He wasn’t even close to the human column.

“This is Dan. My brother.”

Chapter Three

Why the hell had he brought her with him, and what was he supposed to do with her? Ethan wasn’t impulsive, so his unexplained need to keep her out of Roland Garrity’s hands didn’t make any kind of sense. He should’ve just sent her on her way with a warning not to go home.

Whatever his reason, he had to park her in a safe place soon because he could feel his Second One beginning to rise. And if she thought he was terrifying now, did he have a surprise for her in a few hours.

“He’s your brother?”

Her expression said everything her words hadn’t—monsters didn’t have mothers, fathers, brothers. Definitely should’ve ditched her.

“You have a problem with that?”

“No, I was just wondering—”

“You can wonder later. I’ll grab a few clothes and then we have to get out of here.” I was just wondering how many throats you’ve torn out, how often the bloodlust drives you to murder, if you have a conscience, a soul. Not as many as you’d think, never, sometimes, and probably not. He’d keep his answers to himself, though.

He didn’t give her a chance to comment as he strode to his bedroom, crammed some clothes and shoes into a bag, and then handed the bag to his brother. Quickly, he herded everyone out the back door, through the tiny yard, and into the alley. If Garrity had someone keeping an eye on the place, they must be out front because he didn’t sense watchers nearby.

Then he paused. His place had looked as though a bomb had gone off inside it. There must’ve been lots of noise. The row houses were connected. Mrs. Kimsky didn’t get around much anymore. She would’ve been home. And what about George and Janice on his other side? They only went out on Friday nights. This was Wednesday. If any of them had heard a fight in his house, they would’ve called the police. They hadn’t.

Keep going. Being vampire means checking your emotions at the door. Yeah, that was why Cassie was standing in this alley with him. Because he was so good at not feeling anything. No use fighting it, he was going to check on his neighbors.

“I have to do something before we leave. Stay close and don’t make any noise.” He speared Cassie with a glare intended to keep her quiet for a few minutes.

Dan didn’t say anything. He knew what his brother was, and he understood the need for caution.

Ethan went through the back gate and across the small yard. Mrs. Kimsky’s door was unlocked. Not a good sign. “Step in and shut the door. Stay here and let me do the checking.”

He didn’t have far to go. What was left of his neighbor lay on the living room floor. In pieces. Blood was soaking into the carpet. The TV was still on.

“Oh, my God!” Horror filled Cassie’s hoarse whisper behind him.

He glanced back. “I told you to let me . . .”

Cassie stared at the body, her eyes wide, unblinking. There was so much fear. She shook with it. Bracing herself against the doorjamb, she covered her mouth with her hand. To hold back a scream or to keep from throwing up? Maybe both.

Ethan could hear Dan puking into the kitchen sink. “Next time listen to me.” He sounded hard. Good. He wanted them to believe he was a cold-blooded son of a bitch. Because he was—he closed his eyes for a moment—most of the time. “Open the door and get some air. Both of you. I have to find something.” He didn’t look to see if they followed his directions.

Trying to make sure he didn’t step in any blood, he went into the bathroom. He pulled a large bath towel out of the linen closet and began his hunt. A few minutes later he joined the other two at the door with a spitting, hissing bundle of pissed off cat safely wrapped in the towel. He watched Cassie’s eyes widen when she saw the bloody claw marks on his hands and arms.