His body had tasted real blood now. It wouldn't be satisfied with substitutes.
What giving a starving fledgling your blood means.
Charlie pressed his face against his knees. How had he been so stupid? Simon was a hunter. A killer. Charlie had watched him end four lives without hesitation, without remorse. The waySimon moved, the way he struck… that wasn't someone who'd suddenly develop a conscience about one pathetic fledgling.
So why was Charlie still alive?
Was he a joke to Simon too?
The wind picked up, cutting through the hoodie. Charlie shivered, which was stupid because vampires weren't supposed to get cold. But apparently he wasn't supposed to do a lot of things. He wasn't supposed to survive three weeks on condiments. He wasn't supposed to faint at the sight of blood. He wasn't supposed to trust the hunter trying to kill him.
But he had felt safe with Simon.
Right up until he watched Simon slaughter four vampires like it was just another Tuesday night.
Chapter
Sixteen
Simon stood in the empty alley, ash settling around his boots like gray snow.
The bass from Rosie's still thumped through the brick wall. Inside, people were still drinking and dancing, completely unaware that four vampires had just died fifteen feet away from their overpriced drinks.
Simon wiped ash from his stake. 10:23 PM according to his phone.
He had until morning to file his report. Until morning to explain why he'd killed four random vampires while his actual target had bolted.
No, he had to find Charlie.
But Charlie could beanywhere.
Simon had tracked dozens of vampires. Old ones who thought they were clever. Young ones who thought they were invincible. But they all had patterns, territory or covens.
Charlie had none of that. Three weeks old, living off ketchup packets, working at a convenience store, he barely qualified as a vampire, let alone one with escape plans.
Which meant he'd run on pure instinct.
Like a panicked vampire chicken.
Simon moved through the alley, looking for any sign of direction. No blood drops—Charlie hadn't been injured. No disturbed trash cans or scraped walls that would indicate a panicked vampire learning to control super-speed.
Just nothing.
Simon circled the block, weaving through Friday night crowds thick enough that even a vampire moving at supernatural speed would have to slow down.
But Simon didn't see frightened or startled or knocked-over pedestrians.
So he scanned the buildings instead. Fire escapes. Ledges. The kinds of paths a frightened vampire might take when the ground felt too dangerous.
There—a bent railing on a fire escape three stories up. That looked like fresh damage, maybe.
Simon took the same route, hauling himself up easily. His enhanced strength made it trivial, and from the fire escape, he could see more damage. Scratches on brick where fingers had scrambled for purchase. A window screen nearly torn from its frame.
Charlie had gone up and east, deeper into downtown where the buildings grew taller and the lights grew brighter.
Simon followed, rooftop to rooftop, reading the story in disturbed gravel and scraped ledges. Charlie's path was erratic. No logic to it. Just away, away, away.
Three blocks. Five. Eight.
