Better off Dead A Lucy Hart, Deathdealer - By Eva Sloan Page 0,87
Yeah, that’s the idea.”
Lucy stood there, astonished, her mouth gaping.
“I was going to say disfigure my face.” Okay, Lucy thought. Not my best guess.
Delia laughed and let Lucy go. “Maybe later.”
Lucy took off at a dead sprint as she rushed toward the back of the house. Some annoying girl was screaming like an idiot. Lucy suddenly realized she was the annoying screaming idiot. Straight ahead she saw another thick wooden door and she rushed toward it, grabbing the knob and finding it blessedly unlocked. She yanked it open, rushing into the dark little room—definitely not an exit!—and pulled the door shut with a slam. She felt for a latch, but once again she could only feel the subtle notch for a key—another dead bolt.
Lucy gulped air and then held it. She listened for Delia’s approach. She had all her weight leveraged up against the door, but knew she could never hold it against Delia’s vampiric strength.
Without ceremony, the pitch dark room filled with light from an overhead light fixture: a large, dusty crystal chandelier. On the other side of the room, peering at Lucy from another open door, Delia flashed a most beatific smile.
“Silly girl…you can’t actually think you’re going to get out of this…or away from me.”
All around the bare room Lucy saw those creepy markings adorning all the walls. In the bright light of the chandelier Lucy could see they weren’t just painted on. No, the symbols were brushed onto the walls with blood, having long ago dried to a deep, dark crimson.
Delia streaked with blurry speed across the room and flung Lucy against the wall. “This was...well, it was fun! But we’ve got more…appetizing business to tend to.” Her fangs lengthened and glowed in her mouth. “This might hurt a little.”
Lucy was about to scream bloody murder, which was actually kind of what was about to happen, but then her mind clicked onto something she’d completely forgotten about.
Mr. Winkie, Lucy thought. Come to me. Immediately she felt the sheath and harness materialize on her forearm. Delia was leaning in to bite Lucy’s neck, so she didn’t notice when Lucy felt for the knife, then pulled it out of the sheath.
Delia’s teeth sank into her throat with merciless efficiency. The pain and shock of being so penetrated, and the instant weakening that having your life blood rush from your body, made Lucy shake and moan, the weight of the world crashing down on her.
But she had the blade in her hand, thin and light as a feather. Miraculously it was pointed in the just the right direction. With her blood rushing from her into the vampire’s sucking maw, she thrust up with the last bit of strength she had and slid the blade into Delia’s belly like she made out of butter.
Delia screamed and pushed herself away from Lucy. She staggered back with her hands holding onto the gushing wound at her core. The blood spilled in splashes on the hard wood floor.
She laughed, though this time it sounded raspy with pain. “Silver.” She nodded to the knife still clutched in Lucy’s hand, Delia’s blood dripping from it. “Nice. But this wound won’t kill me…it’ll just piss me off! Believe me…” She staggered back against the nearest wall. “I’ll make you suffer for this.”
“I believe you,” Lucy said breathlessly. She struggled to keep herself standing, her one hand clutching at her injured neck—the vampire’s teeth had ripped a chunk out—the other hand holding the knife. The blade and her hand were drenched in the vampire’s blood. “But it will slow you down.”
“Not enough to save you,” she laughed. “Stupid cow!”
Lucy looked at her hands, dripping with her blood and the vampire’s blood, and an idea popped into her head. “You said the markings on the walls protected vampires, making anything else’s powers useless.” Lucy dropped the knife, stumbling toward the closest wall marking. She reached out to the creepy crimson design and swiped her bloody hands over it, immediately feeling a sizzle and then a flux of power. Suddenly she knew, right then and there, that the spell (at least in that room) had been broken. She could feel it.
“Shit!” Delia spat as her eyes flashed murderously at Lucy. She lurched forward, forgetting the painful gash in her stomach, and ran right for Lucy, her eyes crazed, her fangs dripping with strings of saliva.
Lucy called her power up around her, the familiar heat flickering in her head. “Delia, stop.”
As if she’d run into an invisible wall, Delia halted