Page 81 of The Tracker's Rage
Chapter 29
Stephen smirked, peeringat my makeshift weapon with contempt. Then, he came at me, moving so fast that I had no time to even raise the broken piece of wood. He crashed into me, wrapping his arms around my waist and knocking me to the floor. The armrest slipped from my hand and clattered under one of the pews. Airwhooshedout of my mouth as the impact crushed my abdomen and lungs.
Just like he’d done in the parking lot, Stephen straddled me, pinning me down. He tried to take hold of my arms, but I fought him, slapping and clawing at him. As he leaned over me, I caught a glimpse of the chain at his neck. On a reflex, I went for it and managed to take hold of it. A rainbow of colors flashed before my eyes. Blinded, I pulled on the chain, trying to tear it off him.
His eyes opened wide in panic, and he tilted further down toward me, releasing the tension on the chain. I doubled down, wrapping more of the chain around my fingers until it was taut again. I yanked as hard as I could. The chain bit into Stephen’s neck. He grabbed my wrist, tried to hold it in place so I couldn’t pull anymore.
With his attention focused on saving his little relic, I called on my self-defense training and nudged him off balance by slamming my knees into his backside. He lurched sideways, bracing an arm against the floor to avoid falling. It was all I needed to worm my way out from under him. In one fluid motion, I flipped on my side, curled my legs up, pressed my feet against his hips, and kicked while pulling on the chain.
The thing finally broke. The heavy pendant slid down the length of the chain andclankedto the floor. It had a bulky, orange jewel set in a silver base. Stephen let go of my wrist. I scrambled away and jumped to my feet, struggling with my need to breathe. He stayed on the floor, staring at the pendant as if in a trance.
Slowly, he knelt, his shoulders drooping, his chin on his chest as he stared at the glittering stone. As if waking up from a dream, he blinked up and looked at me.
“Toni?” he said, seeming surprised to find me there. He glanced around the temple, frowning. “What... what’s going on?”
I kept my distance, my heart pounding, mind racing, and lungs finally refilling.
Shakily, holding onto one of the pews, Stephen pushed himself up and stood. He rubbed the side of his neck where an angry red mark beaded with tiny droplets of blood.
He sucked air through his teeth. “That burns.” His blue eyes met mine again. “Why are we here?”
“Y-you don’t remember?”
He shook his head.
“Let’s go,” I urged. “I’ll explain later.”
He nodded, looking unsure.
I headed for the double doors and tried to push them open. They didn’t budge. I pulled on them. Nothing. Glancing over my shoulder, I said, “Help me op—”
Stephen wrapped an arm around my neck and put me in a chokehold. “You’re so gullible, Toni,” he said in my ear as he pulled me away from the exit.
I clawed at his arm and kicked as my feet dragged down the aisle, the doors stretching further away. Bucking like a wild horse, I growled. Frustration washed over me. I was so stupid. So stupid.
“One way or another, you’ll be with me,” he whispered in my ear, his breath hot and disgustingly wet.
Suddenly, the doors clanked open , and several figures appeared under the arched entrance, dark shapes silhouetted by a dim light from outside.
“Help!” I screamed, but the figures remained still for a long moment, then finally started marching down the aisle.
Steps echoed on the stone floor. Someone led what looked like a procession, two lines of people walking in pairs. When the glow of candlelight finally illuminated the line leader, my breath caught.
It was Bernadetta Fiore, advancing toward us as if she were floating on air. She wore a black bodysuit that hugged her petite figure like a second skin. A trench coat, a leather corset, and knee-high boots with metal buckles and heels as sharp as knives completed the outfit. Her jet black hair was pulled tight against her scalp, ending in a high ponytail held in place by a thick gold band. Her dark gaze was cool and detached.
A thrill of fear raked across my back. We had been right from the beginning. The Dark Donna was behind all of this, but I would’ve never imagined Stephen becoming her ally. This explained Bertram’s presence that night at the repair shop where we found the Lucciola van, and why the vampire hadn’t hurt me. Probably, Stephen had told him not to.
Ten vampires—their faces pale, their eyes lined with dark veins—walked in two lines to her right and left. They each pushed someone along, keeping their clawed hands at their captives’ necks, forcing them forward. My nose twitched. The captives were werewolves. Their scent was unmistakable. A dark-skinned vamp dressed all in red leather was impossible to miss standing to Bernadetta’s right, a cloud of bleached blond hair framing her face.
Oh, shit!Was this what I thought it was?
Bernadetta stopped in front of us. Air wheezed through my throat, struggling with Stephen’s relentless chokehold.
