“Let’s get one thing straight, Ms. Montague. I don’t live the life of a king.Ifollow the rules I helped set up, too. None of us gets to run around and kill whomever we feel like killing. Not me. Not Vittoria. Not you.”
The hate in her expression twists into loathing. “You’re weak.”
“Never that. Pragmatic. Besides, it passes,” I say, “the uncontrollable thirst.”
She looks at me now with a blank face. But she doesn’t fool me. This stage passes, too. And Elliot will be herself again.
I hope.
I release her.
“If you’re going to be with us, then I need to be able to trust you, otherwise there are…ways to end a vampire permanently.”
She takes a step back, dark shadows painting her eyes. “Ways?”
“Yes.”
I’m not about to elaborate. I don’t need to give her any ideas.
“So then what am I supposed to do here?” Elliot asks as Vittoria strides back to us from the darkened house, a gun over her shoulder. “Do I at least get a weapon?”
“We are the weapon. And no gun for you.” I look past her to Vittoria. “Got something?”
Vittoria nods. “Five humans inside. Four men, one woman. They have a cache of things we might be interested in, and some connections, too.”
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I say. “Take Elliot.”
Vittoria approaches and drops her tone just for me. “She doesn’t seem to be handling the change well.”
“Unlike you,” I say.
Vittoria ignores the sarcasm. “I wanted all she wants, but I never enjoyed the confines of being human. I didn’t change. Just learned.”
“Let’s get this done.”
Her expression is long-suffering, but the redhead just sighs and beckons Elliot to follow her. “This way.”
Alone, I prowl the perimeter, slipping through the iron gate and into the backyard that disappears into trees.
But I don’t get far.
Beyond the elegant sweep of stone patio and manicured hedges sits something obscene in its innocence. A swing set, its chains unmoving, and a towering wooden treehouse nestled in the branches of an old oak. Entirely out of place against the fortress of stone behind it.
Then I see the light.
Two narrow beams flicker behind the slatted wood, cutting through the dark. Flashlights. My jaw tightens.
I close my eyes and let the world sharpen. The night exhales. Blood speaks.
Two rhythms reach me. Small. Quick.
Fuck.
Children.
There weren’t supposed to be children here. How had Vittoria and Andrew missed that during their sweep?
I rip my phone out of my pocket to send Vittoria a message, just as gunfire cracks from inside the estate. High-pitched screams pierce the dark from the treehouse, and a figure darts across the grounds.
