Page 23 of Midnight Queen

This is the problem with hiring humans to fight vampires; the humans will never have the advantage of surprise. We can always sense when they’re close.

Smirking silently to myself, I grab a nearby abandoned cart. Giving it a harsh shove, it bangs through the stained double doors. Almost instantly, the room it has rolled into lights up with bright flashes as two automatic guns go off.

I move to stand by the doorjamb, concealing myself until my next victims make their appearance.

I’m so close to where she is and every instinct is telling me to charge in aimlessly and find her. It takes a great deal of restraint to continue thinking strategically—a feat that is getting more difficult the closer I am to her. The scent of her blood is so heavy in the air that I can taste it on my tongue.

Two guards barge out of the doors, large guns raised and ready. They move as a team, completely in sync with each other. It’s obvious each of them is skilled at their job and it’s truly a shame that such talent will go to waste now.

One second I’m standing behind the swinging door they’d just kicked open, and the next I’m slamming one to the ground. Their weapon skids across the ground as my hand circles around the second guard’s throat. With ease, I lift him into the air.

His gloved hands drop his gun so he can claw at his neck, trying to free himself, but my grip doesn’t waver. His face grows redder with each passing second.

In my peripheral vision, the first guard attempts to crawl on his stomach toward his discarded gun. His fingers just brush against the hilt when my foot presses into his skull. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I warn him, momentarily ignoring the man I’m still strangling.

“Rot in hell,” the guard spits back as his hand darts for the gun once more.

“Didn’t you hear?” I ask, my head cocking to the side. “I’m afraid I’m the king there as well.” With that, I press the sole of my Italian leather shoe into his head harder. Slowly, I increase pressure until he screams in agony and his skull begins to crack. I don’t stop until the red soles of my shoes are stained with blood.

The man I hold up makes a wheezing sound in his throat when he watches his coworker’s brain matter leak onto the concrete floor.

“I suggested he stop. He chose to not listen,” I explain simply before, without any remorse, I throw the man at the nearby wall. The sound of his spine breaking follows behind me as I march through the now clear double doors.

Not bothering to be quiet, I allow the doors to bang against the walls. The sound echoes through the silent cavern of the building. I don’t want to sneak up on Gideon. No, I want him to know I’m coming for him. I want him to feel the same fear he’s made Quincey feel.

“Are you hiding from me, Gideon?” I call to him; my tone has a deadly edge to it. It’s one that holds the promise of my wrath. “You made a spectacle out of all of this because you wanted everyone to remember your face, but yet you hide it from me now?”

I’m met with more silence, which only feeds my anger.

“Get out here and face me, you fucking coward!” My roar bounces off the walls and travels down the dark corridors.

The only source of light comes from the open windows at the top story. The moonlight casts shadows on the equipment that has sat unused for years. There’s a thick layer of dust on everything that isn’t covered with torn plastic sheets.

“Acoward?” His voice cuts through the quiet air, making my steps come to a halt. “I am anything but acoward. Acowardnever would have dared go against you.” Movement from the upper floors of the building catches my attention.

With narrowed eyes, I search the walkways that connect the different sides of the buildings like suspended bridges. The rusted metal creaks under his weight when he walks out of the darkness and into the moonlit walkway.

A low growl forms in my chest and my limbs begin to vibrate with a mixture of adrenaline and fury. My fingers, already stained with blood, twitch at my sides, yearning to rip into his flesh.

Gideon reaches into the darkness for something that is still concealed from my view. “If I was a coward, could I have done the things I’ve done toher?” With a rough yank, he drags Quincey onto the walkway with him.

Two emotions fight inside of me like two violent opposing forces when I finally lay my eyes on her. The relief is like ice water being poured over the uncontrollable flames that have burned bright since she was taken from me. But in the same breath, seeing her only makes my anger grow.

I thought I was prepared to see her in the state he’s left her in. I foolishly believed that the footage was an accurate enough depiction of the damage he’d caused, but I was wrong. Seeing with my own eyes the way he’s carved into her like a butcher and depleted her of the joyous light that usually shines beneath her skin makes the darkness in my soul only grow.

It settles in me like a heavy fog, and makes everything else melt away, but them.

She stumbles forward from the force in which he pulls on her weak form. My silent heart drops in my chest and I instinctually take a step forward, prepared to catch her if she were to stagger too far.

Quincey’s hands catch the rust-covered railing in time to halt her momentum, but I still don’t relax.

“What do you think of my masterpiece?” Gideon asks, sounding proud of himself. “We think she looks beautiful.”What does he mean bywe?

Something inside of me splinters when Quincey’s blue eyes lock with mine. They could bring me to my knees right now if I’d let them. Her split lips part like she’s going to say something, but she never gets the chance. She cries out instead when Gideon’s hand wraps around her tangled and blood-stained hair.

He drags her backward until her back meets his chest. Smiling gleefully down at me, Gideon forces her head back, exposing her delicate throat. “You took Margret’s head from her shoulders. Should I do the same to Quincey?”

With a snarl, I take a menacing step forward, but he’s quick to shake his head at me. “I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you, Silas.” Gideon trails a finger down Quincey’s face, a gentle gesture that makes me feel homicidal. “So angelic...” he purrs into her ear. “Do you want to see if she can fly like one too?”

---