“Something’s wrong.”
There was a feeling emanating from Robert, one that was full of dark and despair. The kind that sucked everything good into it and ground it into dust.
I stepped out of my heels, wanting the freedom of movement.
Thomas’s face took on a focused look, like that of a hunter who had finally caught the scent. His pupils widened, turning his eyes mostly black. His fangs snicked down.
He hissed, the sound that of a pissed off cat warning another off its territory.
Robert didn’t respond. He didn’t move even as the feeling grew stronger.
“Robert, what are you doing?” It wasn’t Thomas talking, or at least not the Thomas I had come to expect. This was a darker version of himself. One whose voice was full of terrible things.
I saw why he was on the short list of applicants.
No answer came from Robert except a deep seated feeling of terror. Nothing in my short life compared. Not being shot at by insurgents. Not the whistle of an incoming rocket. Not my drill sergeant discovering my stash of granola bars.
I whimpered, the feeling crushing me. Weighing around my neck like a hundred pound anchor.
I would have fled if I could get my limbs to respond. I was anchored in place as Robert took a step forward, the light a slash across his face.
His eyes were entirely black with no white showing. A substance the color of night oozed from them with an oily consistency.
“Robert.” Thomas’s voice deepened into a threatening growl.
“The master says you’re next,” Robert said, no emotion in his words. His voice echoed in my bones and mind, reaching to my deepest depths. The ones that I kept secret from everyone.
I didn’t think it was possible, but I tensed further, until it felt like my tendons would snap from the pressure. Robert held up both hands, showing us machete type blades.
“Don’t. Think about this,” Thomas said.
“Fear me. For I am what waits in the dark of night.”
Blade in each hand, his arms crossed over his chest to place a knife on each side of his neck. There was no sign of him in his eyes. It was like he was in a deep sleep, his body acting without conscious thought. Thomas leapt forward. Robert yanked his hands in opposite directions, the blades cutting through flesh until there was nothing left. Blood spurted from the severed arteries as his head sagged backward, attached only by a thin ribbon of skin.
Thomas reached him a second later, catching him before he fell. He lowered the lifeless body to the ground.
The terror released me from its grip as suddenly as if it never existed.
“He cut off his head.” My eyes went anywhere but the body. “He cut off his own head.”
“So it would seem,” Thomas said grimly.
“Could he survive that?” I asked still looking up.
“Probably not.”
I chanced a look at the body. Nope. Definitely not a good idea. I fought through the light headedness, giving myself a pep talk about how badass vampires did not faint at the sight of a little blood. Except it wasn’t just the blood. It was that head attached by only a thin strip of flesh. It was the sight of his spine and the idea that a few minutes before he had been interrogating me on the dance floor and now he was dead.
“Is this normal behavior for vampires?” I asked. I needed to concentrate on the problem at hand or I was going to lose my shit in a way that would bring all of the humans and spooks out here with us.
“Not in my experience.”
“Have you seen anything like this before?” I didn’t know whether I should mention the terror I felt. It could have been a product of my mind.
“Never.” He sounded grim as he squatted over the body.
“I felt something from him. I could have just been imagining it, but it felt real.” I didn’t like how shaky my voice was as I tried to explain.
