Delinquents Turned Fugitives - Ann Denton Page 0,28

billionaire playboy, but he was still turned away, hunched over the table while Cotton examined his back and muttered, “I should just let you die after what you did—” The big man cut himself off as he stomped around the table, forcing Malcolm to step back a step. “How’d the rest of you idiots manage not to get eaten?”

“You haven’t heard?” My brow furrowed. “City’s on lockdown. Vamps got out of the Pinnacle.”

Cotton’s mouth thinned. “How many?”

“Thirty-ish? Unsure.”

Immediately, Cotton stomped back to the door with the porthole. A shrill whistle issued from his lips and the bar went silent—dead silent—even the music was switched off.

“Vamps. Downtown. Tiny, take five with you. Everyone else, spread the word to the old ladies. Get them into the compound.”

Boots hit the ground with thuds like thunder as Cotton turned back to us. “Alright, rich boy, let’s take care of this shit.” Cotton reached right over my head, not even asking me to move, and took a liquor bottle off the shelf. He shoved the whiskey at Gray, who immediately latched onto Malcolm’s arm and held tight as he downed a swig.

Z said, “I didn’t know whiskey was a cure for vamp scratches.”

Cotton replied. “It’s not. He’s got the whiskey because the cure is gonna hurt like a bitch.”

After Gray’s third tortured scream I had to get some air.

I pushed through the door and entered the bar only to see that it was empty but for a guy with the stereotypical biker beard and a very non-stereotypical samurai sword sitting near the front window gazing out at the dull grey sky that preceded dawn.

He turned to look at me and then nodded. “Lysa, everything alright back there?” he asked.

I turned to see Lysa had followed me.

“Weak stomach?” She looked concerned. “I can grab you something. Water or—”

“Just don’t like the screams. Plus, we’ve got some guys outside I need to check on.”

“Outside?” She raised her brow.

“Don’t even think about it.” The man by the door pointed his sword right at her. “You’re staying here, missy and that’s—”

“Yeah, Gunther, got it,” she sighed. “Be careful. If any vamps are left, they’re gonna be looking for places to hide right now.”

I crossed through the room and Gunther unlocked the front door with a stern glare. “Not going out there and saving you.”

“Got it.”

“I mean it. Not risking my ass—”

“Not asking you to.”

“You should just stay inside.” He held onto the door, which was hardly ajar more than an inch.

I looked up at him. He had a grandpa feel about him, and despite all his protests I could tell he actually wouldn’t be able to resist trying to protect me, even if he wanted to—he was a protector at heart. “Gunther, I appreciate it.”

I gently pulled the door open and walked into the parking lot. The door slammed shut behind me and I heard the shink of a deadbolt sliding into place. The van door was cracked open.

What? What was Evan thinking? Part of me wished I’d borrowed that sword.

I forced my feet to go faster despite the nerves that crawled around my stomach. It was better to move than freeze up. I held my breath as I yanked the van door open. My heart nearly froze when Evan’s wand jabbed at my eyes.

“Fuck! Hailstorm! Don’t do that to me!” he gasped, clutching his chest.

“Sorry. But why the hell did you crack open the door when there are vampires on the loose?”

“They’ve been rounded up,” Evan said, pointing at his phone, which was streaming some kind of news program in a low gurgle.

I let out a breath of relief and then climbed into the van next to him. I knelt next to Andros’ head. “So, verdict?”

Evan licked his lips. “It’s a level ten spell.” He pushed his notebook toward me and turned it so I could read the Latin phrase and I noticed his fingers were stained with ink from all his notes.

“Indurasti cor et omnem partem it lapis. Harden your heart and any part. Hmmm … well that seems straightforward,” I furrowed my brow.

Evan shook his head. “It’s not. It can also be translated as a question. Have you hardened your heart or any part to stone?”

“Okay. That’s weird.”

“I think it’s a trick.”

“Why?”

Evan blew out a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving a little blue ink smudge right at the base of his hairline. “It’s meant to be open to interpretation. Which is bad. It means if I interpret the spell incorrectly, then