money. I’m done here.”
I turned on my heel and walked out.
Beau called my name once, but he made no effort to follow, probably because he would lose face. I wondered if he would call Maven and complain about me. I just didn’t give a shit.
The crowd of vampires near the bell tower paid no attention to me, jostling for position in line. That was good, because I was barely watching where I was going.
I was angry with Beau, but even angrier with myself. I was so used to working with Maven and being with Quinn that I had assumed the best of Beau. He was passionate about the Unsettled and his love for Odessa, so I had taken for granted that he was a good leader.
Good leaders do not need to terrorize young women to look big and strong.
I walked alone down the winding diagonal street that connected to Old Hunter Street. I turned right and passed the round brick guardhouse, which now stood deserted.
My head was spinning. Right now I needed to get away from the cemetery, but would it really be wise to go back to Colorado in the morning? Was my anger over Beau’s cruelty enough to blow off the possibility that Odessa was in actual danger?
Except . . . was Odessa in danger, or was she just a paranoid teenager who liked the attention of Beau worrying over her? Or was Beau using her to manipulate me? Even if she was safe, did I have a responsibility to the Unsettled? I’d always seen laying ghosts as a good thing, but perhaps Beau was right about them performing a sort of service.
Too many unknowns, too many circular thoughts. I was nearly back to the arch, so I fished my cell phone out of my jacket pocket to call for a cab. I would call Maven as soon as I got back to the hotel, I decided. I didn’t trust Atlanta’s cardinal vampire, but I trusted my own. She would know what I should do.
I paused inside the arch, squinting down at the suddenly bright light of my phone. I thought I heard a tiny scuffling noise behind me, and I automatically turned to face the cemetery I’d just left, blinking against my disrupted night vision.
That’s how I managed to be facing the wrong way when the sniper’s bullet hit me.
Chapter 17
I didn’t actually hear the shot, so for a moment I didn’t understand what had happened. I just felt a blow to my back like I’d been kicked by Odessa’s horse, and suddenly I was facedown on the bricks. I didn’t have time to get my arms all the way up to catch myself, so I landed awkwardly on my left hand and right cheekbone.
My eyes immediately watered, and for a moment there was nothing but dizziness and confusion.
Then there was a small coughing sound that I recognized as another bullet hitting the bricks a foot away from me, and my adrenaline kicked in. I needed cover, but I was nearly blinded by involuntary tears. Feeling with my good hand, I managed to half roll, half drag myself behind one of the brick columns holding up the arch.
I heard another scuffling sound from the direction of the street—this time I could tell it was someone running toward me at human speed, making no attempt to hide their movements. They were already close, and I heard the safety of a gun being released. I tried to push myself up, but there was something wrong with my left wrist, and I cried out in pain. Falling back onto my stomach, I tried to work my right hand around to the Sig Sauer on my left hip, but my whole lower back was a mess of pain, and I couldn’t seem to find the handle.
I’m going to die.
Something fluttered past me, like a stirring wind, and I heard a guttural roar and a distant shriek before I managed to flip myself over. I cried out again—I’d landed on my back, and the pain was savage—but I managed to wipe my eyes and make out a figure standing over me, facing away, with his feet planted protectively. Beyond him, a second figure in a black mask and hood—the runner—was staggering to their feet, a big dent in the car behind them. That had to be my attacker. One of my attackers. The sniper shot had been from too far away for the shooter to run up the sidewalk so fast, which