Page 95 of Livewire Witch

He looks like he’s dressed for a damn movie premiere or something. Like he hadn’t planned on schlepping his way around the streets with me all night.

“I thought this would blend in,” he mutters a little sulkily, and I roll my eyes. If there are two people that don’t blend, especially into a room like the one we just walked away from, it’s the two of us. Ro with his tattoos, and me and my size mean that we always stand out. Especially in a room of status-chasers and snobs.

“So, what’s the plan here? I know Fabian told us to head out and keep an eye on things. But do we really think that we’re gonna stumble across a bunch of vamps who are up to no good in the middle of the street?” Hanna asks, leaning forward until she’s wedged between me and Roscoe. When I shoot her a glare for infringing on my personal space, she rolls her eyes and flicks me on the arm.

Zero respect. Zero fear. I continue to glare at her until Rook tugs her back to her seat with his hand fisted in her coat hood.

I used to be intimidating as fuck. What the hell happened to that?

“Don’t glare at me, Mr. Big and Growly. I’m just asking.”

I turn back to face the road, back to the bunch of idiots crawling along in front of me. There’s a line of brake lights which are blinding in the snow and it seems like everyone’s forgotten how to drive.

“We need eyes all over the city, so Seb’s going to be checking through the cameras. But we’re also going to need to act fast if anything goes down,” Ro says, twisting in his seat to address her. “It seems most likely that if anything is going to go down, it’ll be at the city hall. That’s why we’ve left Fabian and Silver over there. The plan for the four of us is for us to be the first line of defense if shit goes down anywhere else.”

“Huh.” Hanna hums. “I know what I can do if we come across them, like tearing up the city or whatever you think is going to happen. I can just chuck a bunch of fireballs at their heads, but what about the rest of you?”

“We can hold our own,” I grumble.

Although I’m really hoping we don’t have to. The thought of coming face to face with a bunch of vamps tonight makes my stomach churn. Especially if our intel is correct, and they’re superpowered vamps.

The last time we came face to face with Simpson, Silver and I just about got away with our lives. The thought of that guy growing even more powerful scares the absolute shit out of me.

We crawl another quarter mile through the traffic and are still at least another mile from the docks, when Hanna starts tugging on my arm and demanding we stop.

“What the hell is that?” she screeches, continuing to yank at me.

“What?”

I can’t see what she’s talking about. I’m too busy trying to avoid us getting side swiped or rear-ended as I try to steer us out of the traffic and onto a nearby side street.

“Did any of you guys see that?” she demands, gripping the side of my seat with white knuckles. “Seriously? It looked like some kind of straight upmonster.”

Hanna’s pretty damn dramatic. So she’s just as likely to be screaming in my ear about a mannequin in a spooky mask as something actually sinister. Still though, we pile out of the car and head back up the street to investigate.

The snow crunches under our boots, and I shove my hands deep into my coat pocket as we tramp along. No one else seems to be braving the weather tonight. They’re all either inside or are toasty in their cars, which at least means there shouldn’t be too many witnesses if things go down tonight.

Then a scream rings out. A scream that sounds damn close to our location, and we break into an awkward run through the snow.

Another scream sounds from the alleyway as we charge toward it, skidding to a halt at the alley opening.

I freeze.

It’s the smell that hits me first.

It smells like a mixture of week’s old garbage and decay. The stink is strong enough to have my eyes watering.

And then we see Hanna’s ‘monster’ and I wish that she had been exaggerating.

“Oh holy fuck, it looks like a moldy corpse was birthed out of a dumpster,” Roscoe says, not bothering to keep his voice down.

It’s a lumbering mess of a thing. A misshapen pile of flesh and clothing, staggering down the alleyway. The scrape, scrape of its feet against the ground and a keening gurgling groan send a shiver down my neck.

Horrific. That’s what it is.

There’s a crumpled heap on the ground, the body of a woman dressed in a black coat. The color of the coat means that I don’t spot the blood instantly.

Blood. And viscera.

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