Page 3 of Blood and Hexes

The skinhead and the rich boy moved to attack, but Diana ignored their blows, kicks, punches, and their attempt to tear her away from her prey. She relished in their screams, their fear. His blood wasn’t exceptional. It wasn’t even palatable. But his terror? That was a delight.

Feeling his heart slow dangerously, she let go, and turned back to the two regulars left.

She noticed that she’d attracted a small crowd. There were even phones aimed at her.

Precious.

Diana released the tiniest sliver of energy, aimed at the small gathering. The half-dozen humans filming her all yelped and let go of the burning-hot devices in their hands. Seven phones fell to the wet asphalt. One even caught fire.

Oops?

Diana wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, staining it red. She must have looked positively wild.

Which was exactly what she was, at the moment. Plain or not, tasting human blood for the first time in what felt like eons was bound to have an effect on her. She didn’t feel out of control—just tipsy. And a tipsy ancient Helsing wasn’t a good thing.

Her two adversaries looked between the wailing guard, on his knees, pressing his hands to his throat, and her.

She tilted her head. “Take him. And hopefully, you’ve learned a lesson or two.”

The boy glared at her.

She didn’t think he had at all.

He’d come at her again, some day.

His funeral.

---