since. Dante and Kade found his cell phone down by the river in Southie. Hate to say it, but it looks like Chase stepped off the ledge and has no intention of coming back." Gideon went quiet, contemplative for a moment. "You asked if there's been a death in the Order? I'll tell you what, that's exactly how it feels around here right now. About the only thing that'll feel worse is when, somewhere down the line, someone reports in from patrol that they've smoked a Rogue and it turns out to be Harvard."
"I hope that night will not come," Hunter said, struck by how deeply he meant it.
"You and all the rest of us back at the ranch," Gideon replied. "In the meantime, let's hope nothing else goes to hell, right? So, get your asses to the airport ASAP. Report back once you and the female are safe."
"Consider it done," Hunter answered grimly.
He slid the phone back into his pocket and ran with Corinne to search for a means of transportation out of the city.
He didn't notice the humans until they were nearly upon him.
Head down, Chase had his mouth fastened to the neck of a blood Host he'd followed out of a crack house in the bowels of the city a short while ago. Now he grunted in irritation as the approaching vehicle's headlight beams bounced off the brick walls of the narrow side street where he crouched with his prey.
The police cruiser prowled slowly between the old apartment buildings, the side-mounted spotlight flicking on as it neared the halfway mark.
Chase hunkered down, pulling his limp Host deeper into the shadows of the boxy Dumpster that would shield him only until the cops were right in front of it. The straw-haired blonde moaned, whether from the lull of his suckling at her carotid or the buzz of the cocaine that tainted her blood with its sickly sweet tang, he wasn't sure. She tried to move, but he held her down, not quite sated even though he knew he had taken more than his fill already. The police car crept farther along, edging ever nearer to where he greedily fed. Some shred of sanity warned him to reach for the shadows. He grabbed at them with his mind, tried to bend them to his will, to gather the gloom around him in order to hide from the threat of the human law enforcement that was mere seconds away from turning their obnoxious light in his direction.
Chase scrabbled to bend the shadows, but his talent was too hard to hold. It wobbled weakly - there and gone, there and gone - lasting no more than mere seconds at a time. He snarled, frustrated by the loss of control.
How much longer before his ability slipped from his grasp completely? He'd seen the effects of Bloodlust on others. He knew its destructive power. The addiction would eat away his Breed-born talent, then his sanity, his humanity ... and eventually his soul. The thought seeped through the haze of his avaricious feeding, as bitter as the drug-laced blood that coursed down his throat. With a growl, he tore his mouth from the wound and licked it sealed, repulsed by himself and the human he might have drained dry if not for the interruption of the approaching police.
He dragged her barely conscious body farther behind the large trash container. She would recover in a short while, recalling nothing of the past few minutes. She'd shake off her strange lethargy and get up, free to return to the addiction that had brought her to this squalid street in the first place.
As for him?
Chase grunted, his head still buzzing as he wiped the blood from his chin where he squatted in the filth of the alleyway. The slow creep of the police cruiser kept him cowered at the edge of the Dumpster for much longer than he liked. He waited, watched, wary as the car came to a halt in front of where he crouched, brakes squeaking. The vehicle's siren gave a short whoop before the blue strobes lit up, bathing the alleyway in pulsating light. One of the doors opened, then closed with a soft thump.
"Someone back theh?" A firm voice, all business in the heavy Boston accent. Hard-soled boots crunched on the frozen pavement. A sharp hiss of static came from the cop's radio as he moved in closer. "No loiterin' allowed out here, 'specially you degenerate crackheads and junkies." Another step closer. Two