Page 47 of Marked
The alley behind us is dark, empty at first glance. Something moves through the shadows, and I take a step back the way we came.
Small warm fingers alight over my arm, searing me in place.
“Ruin?” Lilah’s voice is soft. Sweet. My teeth grind.
I pull my keys from my pocket and hold them out. But my eyes never leave the alley rim. “Go start the car, will you?”
“Is everything—”
“Yeah. Just forgot to tell Raina something. Go start the car and lock the doors, okay? And don’t open them until I come back.” When I glance over, her bright blue eyes are fixed on my face, her bottom lip between her teeth.
She hesitates, but starts to walk backward over the pavement. I wait until she is at the car before flitting to the alley. The cloying scent of raw meat and fresh blood fills my nose in droves. My eyes flood with gold light.
Pulling the small .380 from my boot holster, I walk slowly into the darkness.
The dumpsters are open, but empty of all but the night’s first trash round. Even the thicker shadows around them are devoid of debris. My heart beats like a drum as the scent grows stronger, thicker, and too powerful for a skirmish. Aged copper fills my nostrils until my fangs drop with force. There is something familiar about it. A trace of fragrance ...
Around the corner of the last bin, hidden half-in and half-out of a stack of old pallets, two long pale legs gleam. Dread washes over me. I step closer. The thick scent of death is underscored with something chemical, rank. I hold my breath. Hauling the top broken slat free, a familiar mass of dark brunette waves glare back.
For a moment, my heart stops. All the air in my lungs fades, leaving me gasping and disoriented. Memories of another body, another set of those waves seems to superimpose across my vision. I shut it down. Deep, deep fucking down.
Hand shaking only slightly, I lift the next broken piece back to reveal the waitress from the night before. Her neck sits at an off angle, but the smooth column still holds a slight bruise from my less than gentle bite. It’s all I can do to stand upright as the earth sways on its axis.
In the dark, her resemblance to Lilah is stronger. The coloring. The build. Except the waitress’ sightless eyes are a foggy walnut.
Is it a coincidence?
“Ruin? What’s going on?”
Lilah’s voice slams into me like a truck. I whirl to find her feet away, her small hands knotting over and over again in front of her.
“What are you fucking doing?” I roar. “I told you to wait in the car.”
She steps back. “It was taking you a long time, and I saw light—”
My lips press into a hard line. I stalk over to her and grab her small arm with my free hand. She gasps, but doesn’t pull away as I haul her back towards the front door of Underground. Then I stop.
What if the killer is still nearby? Hell, what if they are in the club?
I pull my cell phone from my pocket and dial as I force Lilah to the car. She protests when I open her door and point.
“Get in the gods-damn car, Lilah, or I make you.”
She stares up at me, blue eyes flashing. But she gets in the car. The phone line clicks as I slam her door.
“Gage? Get to fucking Underground. We got a waitress dead.”
He swears. “Fuck. Where?”
“Alley.” I pause as my skull twinges. “I need the team to case it and the club. Alert Markus.”
There is a brief pause. “Where you gonna be, Cap?” he asks.
My eyes lock on Lilah’s turned head. “Give me fifteen minutes to meet you. I need to do something first.”
Chapter 22
Lilah
