“Hello?” I called, standing up and studying the massive living room. Wait, I knew this place. Only ever visited twice as he didn’t want to chance someone seeing us together. Brandon’s apartment.
I sucked in a deep breath, heart not slowing as I froze, listening for any sound.
“Brandon?” I whispered his name, fearing he’d pop out of somewhere and scare the shit out of me. But the entire place stretched silent and partially dark, only illuminated by a handful of lamps, one in the living room and one in the bedroom.
Stalking around the apartment, opening doors, waiting for something to pop out like some biscuit-can nightmare, I found it empty. In the bedroom, the bed was made, furniture spare, as if barely lived in, though I heard a strange buzzing sound. Where was that coming from? Why would chasing Ivan lead me here? Why would Ivan be here at all?
I stared at the closet door, closed tight, the vague glimmer of shifting light underneath. My stomach flipped over in fear, but I reached for the handle, unwilling to chance losing Ivan. With a held breath, I yanked the door open, jumping to the side in case anything lunged at me.
But the walk-in closet flickered with a half dozen monitors, all showing different locations like some sort of security detail. What the actual hell?
I took a step forward into the closet, trying to focus on the screens but unable to clarify any of them as they flickered and flipped from snow to shapes back and forth. The floor creakedbehind me. I spun around, Taser raised, ready but hesitant as I feared hitting Ivan.
A tall figure stood in the bedroom, half blocking the door to the closet and my retreat. His shadow towered over me, adding bulk and height, which had never bothered me until he’d tried to kill me in a vacant lot.
Brandon stood swaying in the doorway, face stretched thin, eyes like black onyx, jaw set with a smirk. I took a step back, and he stepped forward, a smile curving his lips too wide.
“Missed you,” he said, sounding hoarse.
“I haven’t missed you,” I snarled back.
Brandon’s grin widened; his teeth too white, too sharp in the dim light. “Liar,” he crooned. “You always miss me.”
I tightened my grip on the Taser. “Where’s Ivan?”
His head tilted, birdlike. “Who?”
“My brother, you prick!”
Brandon lunged.
I fired the Taser, but he slammed his hand into my wrist, dislodging my aim. The Taser clattered to the floor. I threw myself backward, reaching for it, but he caught me by the throat and smashed me into the wall beside the door, squeezing.
“I think you’ve forgotten your place,” Brandon growled, “beneath me.”
“Fuck you!” I wheezed, trying to pry his hands off me. I smashed my hands into the bend of his elbows and cracked my forehead against his face to escape. He cursed, his nose busted, spurting blood, cold and sticky.
Brandon staggered back, black blood dripping from his ruined nose, too dark and thick to be human. His fingers brushed the mess, then came away glistening with that unnatural ichor, like shadows oozed from inside him. When he laughed, it bubbled wet in his throat.
“Jude Alexander Holt.”
Brandon Cassidy didn’t know my middle name. He knew very little about me. And that familiar refrain made my blood run cold. I dove for the Taser, fingers scraping the polymer grip just as Brandon’s foot came down hard on my wrist. Bone ground against hardwood. A gasp tore from me, the pain white-hot up my arm.
The Taser was just inches away. I twisted, ignoring the scream in my wrist, and drove my free elbow into Brandon’s knee. Something cracked. He howled, the sound twisted, warped, more like an animal than anything human.
I wrenched my hand free and grabbed the Taser, jammed the prongs into his stomach, and fired. His body seized for a half second, then his edges blurred, shadows writhing under his skin like eels. The stench of burning ozone filled the closet.
Shadows peeled off the walls around me, dripping from the ceiling in inky ropes, lashing around my limbs as if to keep me immobile. I screamed, struggling to get free, the Taser vanished from my grip as I tried to break their hold.
“Jude! Baby! Look at me!” someone demanded, and warm hands cupped my face.
I sucked in air, blinked, and found myself staring into Angel’s concerned gaze, his forehead pressed to mine, his hands holding my head in place. The team held me down, and I gasped, horrified by the restriction.
“Baby, you were seizing. Breathe, please,” Angel begged.
The world came into focus around me, and I realized I was on the ground outside the building, staring up at the high-rise as if I hadn’t just been running through it. Through one window, far above, I caught a glimpse of movement and a face staring down at me.
Brandon Cassidy.
