Conroy berated her whilst Kit inspected the wound. The bullet had gone deep, and leaving it in wasn’t an option, lest his muscle attempt to knit itself together around it. He dived in before he could wuss out, grasping at the slippery metal and trying to ignore the pain that zipped down his arm. Rivulets of blood ran from the hole as he struggled to grip the bullet with slick fingers. Finally, he pried it out, dropping the bullet onto the grass. He felt out of breath for the first time in half a century.
He looked up, heart in his throat, when a loud growl reverberated through the field. Quin came running towards Kit, blurring into the night as his paws pounded against the earth.
The three other vampires cocked their weapons as Tati shouted something Kit didn’t hear over the sound of his own panicked yell. “Quin, watch out!”
Gunshots cracked as Kit stood and ran. Quin roared, but whether it was from anger or pain, Kit couldn’t tell. He kept Quin in sight, refusing to be thrown off track again.
But Quin changed direction. Instead of heading for Kit, he went for the others, barrelling into Conroy and throwing him to the ground. Kit followed, only to be stopped when fire spread through his gut. He fell to his knees, clutching at the fresh bullet wound.
Kezia grinned at him, her gun held high. “Oops,” she said.
Quin let out a menacing growl as Conroy sprang back up, a hand pushing the long hair that had come loose from his ponytail out of his eyes. “How mighty rude of you,” Conroy said, though he looked pleased at being given such a fight.
Kit let out a pained sound as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. Quin’s head swivelled at the noise, and Tati took advantage of Quin’s momentary distraction to let loose a shot that caught Quin in his flank.
Quin howled, and Kit—bullet wounds be damned—went on the attack. The guns needed to be taken out of the equation, and Kezia and Tati were easier targets than Conroy. Reducing their numbers advantage was a necessary risk.
Catching Kezia off guard as she reloaded, Kit wrestled the rifle from her and threw it as far as he could over the road. It collided with their car, shattering a back window. Before he could move, fingers sank into the bullet wound on his abdomen. Kit screamed as Kezia’s claws ripped open further his already torn flesh, a wildfire of pain spreading from within.
He lashed out with all his strength, catching her over the head with a blow so hard that her neck snapped. She slumped to the ground, and Kit didn’t spare her another glance.
With a hand pressed to his burning stomach, Kit turned to see Quin baring his bloodied teeth at Tati. She was cowering beneath him, scratches covering her skin under her tattered shirt. Kit made a move for her gun where it lay on the grass, but Conroy came out of nowhere from his left, knocking him off his feet.
They fell in a tangle of fighting limbs, both of them trying to gain the upper hand. Conroy—older, less injured, more experienced—had Kit underneath him in seconds.
“You should have just let us have our fun,” Conroy spat.
“He’s. Mine,” Kit snarled, throwing a wild punch and catching Conroy on the side of his face. Unlike Kezia, Conroy withstood the force behind it, shaking it off like it was nothing more than a tap. Conroy caught both of Kit’s wrists in one hand and pressed them into the grass.
Easily.
Too easily.
Kit struggled and flailed, his chest growing tight at being in such a vulnerable position. It reminded him far too much of other times he’d been in this exact place—below someone far stronger than him and unable to fight back. It made Kit feel fragile and all too human.
Conroy’s fangs looked sharp as he spoke. “You’rethe one who came cryin’ to me, wanting the werewolf gone. How dare you—” Conroy’s words were succinctly cut off when Quin hurtled into him.
Conroy’s talons cut into Kit’s wrists before being ripped away, leaving deep, bloody scores along his hands. Turning over onto his knees, Kit saw Quin’s large jaw close around Conroy’s middle. Vampires were hardy creatures, but surely being bisected would cause a permanent death.
Before Quin could end Conroy’s existence, an odd pressure built in the air, like the atmosphere itself had become tangible.Kit blinked at the sudden appearance of two people—a man and a woman—in the field as the pressure receded. With a quick sniff, he could tell that they weren’t vampires or werewolves, but they didn’t seem human either. They smelled old, like the pages of an antique book.
The woman stepped forward. She had cropped black hair, which curled around her round face, and wore so many overlapping necklaces they were impossible to count. Despite none of the necklaces matching—there were shades from shining titanium and gunmetal grey to sunny gold and rich bronze—the combination was striking.
“Drop him,” she demanded in a vaguely Slavic accent, staring at Quin where he held a thrashing, swearing Conroy.
Quin held firm, a harsh growl forming in the back of his throat. Conroy managed an aggrieved, “Roxy, fucking help me!”
The woman—Roxy—sighed. “Werewolf, would you be so kind as to release the idiot vampire you have in your mouth?”
As Roxy spoke, the man who’d arrived with her eyed Kit. He shrank at the intensity of the man’s hazel eyes, as they seemed to burrow under the surface of Kit’s skin.
Quin still hadn’t let Conroy go. His big furry body was shaking with exertion, his chest falling and rising rapidly as his heart beat worryingly fast. Blood oozed from the bullet wound on his flank, and the blood smelledwrong, not at all like Quin’s usual pleasant aroma. Poisoned—sickened by the silver. Kit crawled to his feet, intent on going to Quin, but a sharp shake from the unknown man’s head had him hesitating.
Whoever these two were, Kit doubted they were all-out enemies. They’d had the chance to take them by surprise and hadn’t. That didn’t mean Kit trusted them, however. Quin’s bright blue gaze flicked towards Kit, wary and pained.
Tati was patting at the bird’s nest that had replaced her perfect hair as she rushed over. “Xavier, they tried to kill us!” she cried.
“Nobody is killing anyone today.” Roxy said, before doing a double take at the crumpled form of Kezia. “Unless she’s already dead,” she corrected herself, “in which case nobodyelseis dying.”
