Page 3 of Hunted in the Shadows
Putting on a doe-eyed smile like I wanted nothing more than to please him, I summoned ice between my palms, directing it upward. Mist spread near the ceiling and glittered like diamonds, reflecting the light of the television. Delicate flakes fluttered down, unassuming and beautiful.
Even Veronica, in her delirium, looked enchanted by the impossibility before her eyes. Her slack-jawed expression became taut with a horrified scream when I cultivated the mist and snow into a single stab of ice through the vampire’s neck—a precise shot inches from Veronica’s face.
The vampire gagged, lurching back and releasing her.
Jon lunged across the room, jammed his oak stake through the monster’s heart, and twisted. A strangled, animalistic moan escaped those fanged lips—then, silence. As the vampire’s eyes went vacant, the aura of the coven depleted entirely, and I could breathe easier. Jon grit his teeth, shoving the vampire’s limp body into the corner, where limbs settled at unnatural angles.
A confusing beat of pride rushed through me as I considered our handiwork—twin spikes of oak and ice protruding from our kill.
As Jon hurriedly picked Veronica’s wrist cuffs, he squinted over his shoulder at me. “Your face is red. Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” Now wasn’t the appropriate time to share how uniquely flustering this encounter in the break room had been.
Veronica stared at me, rubbing her freed wrists. “I’ve gone crazy,” she whispered. Her gaze trailed to the vampire’s body, then to Jon, eyes brimming with tears. “I’ve gone crazy, right?”
Jon set a hand on her shoulder to steady her on her feet, gentle near the bite marks as he steadied her. “Not even close. You're almost out of this. You're going to be okay, I promise.”
Eyes welling with desperate tears, Veronica leaned hard against him for support and shuddered. Murmuring that she would be home soon, Jon led her to the door, and I followed, leaving behind the corpse and the drone of the television.
The instant we passed the threshold, it occurred to me that we hadn’t heard even a word from Cliff. Stopping short beside Jon, I realizedwhy.
Back in the main room, Cliff was pinned by his throat against the wall, unable to make a sound.
2
Sylvia
“They had names, you know.” The unfamiliar man with his hand around Cliff's throat was dressed casually like the others—a plain cotton shirt, jeans, and laced boots not dissimilar from the sort Jon and Cliff favored. But when he turned his head to us, an ancient gleam was buried in his cobalt eyes that made my blood run ice-cold. “No matter where I go, your kind comes to annihilate my family.”
“Cliff!” I blurted, clapping my hands over my mouth.
His bloodshot green eyes shot to me—a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. “Don’t… don’t, Sylv.”
The tremor in his voice made me queasy. I wasn’t sure I had ever heard Cliff this scared before—not since Jon had nearly succumbed to that wound in the Dottage basement.
I watched, helpless, as Cliff’s face drained of color in his struggle for air. His towering frame, usually so strong, seemed to wither compared to the man pinning him. His muscles strained as he pulled and clawed, but the hand around his throat only tightened, forcing Cliff's breaths down into ragged gasps. His stake lay on the floor by a shelf, just out of reach.
My stomach bottomed out. Another vampire—but how did I not sense him? Even as I stared right at him, clawing at my senses, I only felt a distant, foul pulsing, easily ignored.
Glamour. It had to be glamour masking his presence. Unlike the fae variation used defensively in Elysia, vampire glamour had a predatory allure that hypnotized victims. But I had sensed everyvampire I’d encountered in the last two months, the same as any other ghost or monster.
My only theory was that he must have been uniquely powerful.Giovanni. The coven leader who had turned the vampire in the break room—and all the others strewn about the carpet.
“Veronica, get back,” Jon said, ushering her into the hallway behind him. She had both hands clasped over her mouth, trembling as she fixed her gaze at the floor as though she couldn’t bring herself to directly acknowledge the coven leader.
Jon fixed his gaze back to Giovanni, his jaw set. “A little late to play martyr. Yourfamilykilled hundreds of innocent people.”
The vampire’s lips twitched in a smile. “Don't insult me. That's a little modest, don’t you think? I don’t like to brag about body count, but former slayersarethe most difficult to put down.”
My heart skipped a beat as his words registered.
“You were a hunter?” I croaked.
Giovanni’s gaze rested directly on me, glimmering with humor as though he could sense every one of my reeling thoughts. Unbridled arrogance came with his power. I wanted to be vicious, fearless, but I eased a little further back behind Jon.
“Lifetimes ago, I was the most feared witch hunter in Florence,” he said, his words drawling with the assurance of a man who had all the time in the world. “A different name, a different man… But that’s the trouble with hunters, my dear—always the most at risk of becoming the very creatures they hunt.” His sharp smile grew. “Now, I haven’t seen a fairy since the days of bathtub gin. Allied with hunters, though… That’s a first. Even I wouldn’t have stooped so low in my mortal days.” He turned his attention back to Cliff. “Curious boys, aren’t you?”
Giovanni pressed forward, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply against the hollow of Cliff’s throat. Cliff’s strained expression twitched with revulsion.
