When Villains Rise (Market of Monsters #3) - Rebecca Schaeffer Page 0,61
date, they all looked newly made and clean, and the effect was less that he’d walked out of a period drama of 1930s Chicago and more that he was young with a bit of a retro, quirky style.
His movements were slowed down, so that they looked almost human, not the too-fast, impossible actions she remembered. It still made her shudder when she recalled how he’d moved, like she’d blinked and missed something.
But he wasn’t trying to scare her now. He was trying to pass as human, and it seemed to be working.
He walked to the front desk, and Nita nudged Kovit. He nodded, and the two of them separated, shifting into position. They knew where Zebra-stripes was going.
Nita went over to the elevator banks. All of them were at the lobby, and she pressed the top floor in each one except one, sending them shooting up and away. Then Nita got in the final one, just as Zebra-stripes turned the corner.
She smiled at him, her face a mass of wrinkles from her disguise, her hair tucked up under a wig she’d bought on the way there. She’d swapped disguises, afraid that Zebra-stripes might recognize her from the market if she looked young. But now, to all intents and purposes, she looked like a seventy-year-old woman.
“Going up?” she asked, holding the door open.
“Yes.” His voice was low, a little on the deep side, a little too deep for his face, which seemed young, mid-twenties. It was a lie, of course. Vampires didn’t age the same as humans. Their faces froze at some point in their lives and then after that, you could only tell their age by their hair.
The more white in their hair, the older they were—though it wasn’t really white, it was an ethereal, almost translucent, sparkling color that resembled white. They could live as long as seven hundred years, but they grew older and frailer as they aged. When they were young, they were preternaturally strong and practically unstoppable. The old ones were weak as kittens.
His hair was covered, but Nita remembered how much white Zebra-stripes had. She’d placed him between one and three hundred years. A dangerous age to be. Wise from their years and still strong with youth.
That wasn’t going to stop Nita from taking him down. Nita was strong too. And she had a lot more riding on this.
The elevator doors clicked closed, and he pressed the sixth floor, as she’d known he would. Soft music began to play, and Nita leaned forward and pressed the button for the eighth floor, dropping her bag as she did so.
“Oh, goodness,” she croaked, making her voice raspy and old to go with her wrinkly skin. “Dear, could you get that for me? My knees aren’t what they used to be.”
Zebra-stripes didn’t say anything, just knelt to pick up the bag.
And Nita used the opportunity to drive a knife into his spine.
She’d been very careful with her planning—she didn’t want to kill Zebra-stripes, not yet, but she couldn’t take on a vampire. She was realistic.
But she’d dissected many a vampire. She knew their biology well.
The knife slid in just below the base of his skull between the C1 and C2 vertebrae, immediately paralyzing him. Blood slipped out, coating the knife handle and painting Nita’s fingers red.
The only sign of his surprise was his widening eyes as his body collapsed beneath him in a single moment. Paralysis was a beautiful thing—you could survive it, and it made you completely vulnerable. Vampires had superb healing, though, so Nita didn’t take the knife out as he collapsed. She left it in to prevent his body from naturally healing the damage.
He grunted when he hit the ground, and Nita drove the knife in deeper.
He glared up at her, his eyes so pale they seemed almost white. “Who are you?”
Nita smiled at him, reached down, and shoved a gag in his mouth. “We’ll talk soon.”
The elevator dinged on the sixth floor, and Kovit was waiting with the plastic tarp. They rolled Zebra-stripes onto the tarp quickly, seconds ticking by, eyes wide, hoping no one turned onto the corner and saw them.
Blood dripped off the plastic tarp from the wound, not a lot, but some. Kovit had some cleaning supplies, and he darted into the elevator while Nita dragged the body across the hall to the room she’d rented under one of her mother’s aliases.
Kovit held the elevator doors open and looked at the stains with concern. “Really, Nita?”