"That too." Simon checked his weapons with an almost casual air. Like it was just a habit at this point. "You're either the weakest vampire I've ever encountered, or..."
"Or what?"
Simon didn't answer. He pulled on his jacket, then tossed something at Charlie. A hoodie. Black, of course.
"Put that on. We're going to Rosie's."
Charlie caught the hoodie reflexively. "Now?"
"The vampire who turned you was drunk and careless. Types like that are creatures of habit. If his pack hangs around that area, someone will know them." Simon headed for the door. "And pull the hood up. You look like death."
"Iamdeath. Technically."
"You're technically annoying. Move."
Charlie pulled on the hoodie. It smelled like Simon. That clean, sharp scent that made his fangs ache. He pulled the hood up to hide his face and his obvious hunger, following Simon to the door.
Chapter
Thirteen
Simon's pocket felt like it held burning coal.
The prescription bottle pressed against his ribs with each step, a constant reminder of the dose he'd skipped that morning. Thirty-six hours now since his last pills. Long enough that the edges of things seemed sharper. Colors more vivid. The city's nighttime assault of neon and streetlights didn't hurt yet, but it would soon.
Worth it, though. If they found the pack that turned Charlie…
If things went sideways, he needed every advantage.
Charlie walked beside him, drowning in Simon's hoodie. The sleeves hung past his fingertips, and he kept pushing them up, only for them to slide down again. He looked like a kid wearing his older brother's clothes.
He looked vulnerable.
Simon's jaw tightened. That was the problem, wasn't it? Charlie looked nothing like the monsters Simon hunted. Even now, knowing what he was, watching those fangs descend earlier,Simon kept cataloging all the ways Charlie failed at being a vampire.
All the ways he was making Simon fail at being a hunter.
Reuben would have Simon's head for this. Not just for lying—though that was bad enough—but for the doubt creeping through his thoughts like poison. Simon had built his life on one simple truth: vampires were monsters that needed eliminating.
All of them.
His mother's blood on their apartment floor had taught him that.
So why was Charlie still living his undead life?
Because Simon did not yet know everything there was to know about him.
Oblivious to Simon's thoughts, Charlie kept trudging along. "Is it always this loud?" the small vampire's voice barely carried over the Friday night chaos spilling from the bars they passed.
"It's Friday night in the city. What did you expect?"
"I don't know. I guess I never noticed before." Charlie winced as someone slammed a car door nearby. "Everything's just... more."
Enhanced senses. Simon knew that particular burden well. The pills dulled it usually, kept the overwhelming input at manageable levels. But now, with the suppressants wearing off, he could feel his awareness expanding. Every conversation on the street came through crystal clear. Every heartbeat in their vicinity registered like a drum.
Including Charlie's.
It was faster than it should be. Anxious.
