Damien breaks apart into a dozen streams of shadow that drive like dark needles through the men. Their voices ring out as their slow human minds try to understand what’s happening to them. My vampire senses catch it all—the spout of blood that erupts from a lung, a throat, a wrist. The guns go flying, some with hands still attached.
It seems like an incredibly long time before the men’s screams rend the night, their senses finally catching up to ours. My mind moves so much faster now. My senses are so much keener. They turn and try to flee. In their long gray coats, they scatter like pigeons across my lawn. Pigeons hit with scattershot, bleeding to death as they run.
Damien catches up to two of them in the time it takes me to decide what to do next. His shadows toy with them, slowly draining their life as they beg for their lives. I spot another one running down the drive. He’s almost reached the road. That won’t do. No one can leave this place. I want to send the Denardis a message. Anyone they send to kill me is never coming back.
I catch up with the man easily and kick the side of his knee. The bone breaks with a resounding crack. His shriek as he crumples to the pavement is chilling.
“Why did you come here to kill me?” I ask the man as he crab walks backward, trying to get away from me. I know why, but I want to hear him admit it.
“Fuck off, cunt!”
I grab him by the front of the shirt. He punches me with everything he’s got, his fist slamming into my jaw. I barely feel it, as if I’ve been batted by a kitten’s paw. “Why. Are. You. Here?”
He stops breathing, his pupils dilating with fear. “Hail Mary, full of grace…” His mumbled prayer drifts over me and into the night.
“Hmph. Something tells me Jesus, Mary, and Joseph aren’t too thrilled that you came here to murder an innocent young woman whose abusive ex-husband tried to frame her for his crimes.”
His eyes narrow to slits. “You’re a loose end. You know too much.” He whimpers. “All you had to do was follow directions and the family would’ve let you live.”
“Directions?” My brows lift, and I laugh as he flails in my grip. “Is that all I had to do? Maybe what I needed was a demonstration. Do you know how to follow directions?”
He says nothing.
I reach into his pocket and extract his wallet, checking the ID. “Following your directions isn’t going to work for me, Nick. But how about you follow mine?”
He sneers and tries to break my hold again.
“I’ll give you an easy one.” I draw his face closer. “All you have to do is lie here and die.” I slam the back of his head against the driveway hard enough to crack his skull, then with the stomp of my heel, I break his other leg. He passes out, but I can still hear his heart beating as his blood pools beneath his skull.
I stride back toward Damien, leaving Nick there to bleed out. A part of me recognizes that I’m not this person. Eloise Harcourt doesn’t hurt people, not intentionally. I’m not a killer. But right now my humanity feels like a distant memory. Just like this house, this property. It all feels like something from a different life. A different time.
But no matter how different it might be now, the Denardis can’t have any of it.
46
Night Bird
DAMIEN
She has no idea how beautiful she is. Eloise strides toward me, the deep red curls of her hair a stark contrast against the bright blue trench. Her skin is flawlessly pale. Her lips full and red from my blood. And those eyes… her green eyes cast their own light now, just like mine.
But I lament the grief I see flash in them. The mourning for her old self.
Part of being a warrior is learning how to live with the consequences of your actions. I remember my first kill, a dark elf who’d entered our territory with murderous intent, armed to the teeth. Killing Tony and Valeska has changed her, made her harder in ways she likely didn’t see coming.
She broke the bones of the man in the driveway and left him there to die. He was sent to kill her, and she is justified in taking his life. But I still see a glimmer of the girl I met almost six months ago as she walks toward me, a woman who is second-guessing herself. A woman who senses she should be compassionate, even now, even after these men have wronged her over and over.
Her body is stronger.
She’s harder to kill.
But she’s still vulnerable. A warrior who gave all of herself to protect the people she loved most. A warrior who saved me. A woman who now must make sense of it all.
It pains me to see her like this, still fighting for the scraps of her humanity that remain. She deserves so much more.
I would kill a legion of men if I thought it would make a difference for her.
And our trouble is just beginning. My little bird is now a night bird. The human authorities will come, and she will not be able to answer the door. She will not be able to discuss the case over tea. My night bird cannot return to her human life no matter how much she wishes to go home. Her old nest was built out in the open, in the sunlight, designed for fair weather. The storm is upon us now.
