Night Kissed (Chosen Vampire Slayer #1) - Mila Young Page 0,10

dug my heels in and had no intention of leaving my home. I’d experienced great loss, rebuilt, and lost even more. Including part of myself. That stopped now.

At the intersection in front of the Golden Klondike club, a body lay beneath the traffic light. A bear shifter. Ghastly pale, eyes wide and staring, thanks for Seth’s handywork. An example for the others to see, that they might know what retribution lay ahead. It was a warning they would never heed. I counted on their ignorance.

That was all part of the fun. My plan had been set in motion to eradicate these bastards from my territory.

Chapter 4

Veronica

Arriving at the Anchorage Grand Hotel less than twenty-four hours after Lian had called me in Seattle was a mildly surreal experience. The taxi dropped me off in front of a building whose sharp, modern angles stood in stark contrast to the rugged mountains in the background. If not for the fancy gold, '50s-era script adorning the front of its façade, I might have taken the place for a hospital or a school. Strange place, but I was too tired to complain.

The door to my room—number 502—opened to a surprisingly spacious suite of rooms. Lian had insisted upon these particular accommodations, and as soon as I saw the living room and kitchenette, I began to understand why. The drawers and cupboards had even been stocked with plates and flatware.

I called her five minutes after putting down my stuff. “Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to let you know I made it.”

“Great!” She laughed slightly. “You sound beat. How was the flight?”

I stifled a yawn, exhaustion raking through me. “It was fine. TSA only frisked me a little, which was nice of them.”

She snorted. “It’s got to be the hair. Unless you’ve dyed it since the last time I saw you. Again.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I ran my fingers through my hair as I talked. It had always been incredibly pale, even when I was a kid. The first time I colored it was to stop classmates from teasing me about my “grandma hair.” My mom had made sure I stuck to normal colors then. Now, it was cotton-candy pink, and I kept it up because I liked it. “This is my natural color.”

“Right.” Lian chuckled. “Okay, go get some rest, V. We’ll meet up tomorrow, but not too early. I promise.”

My place in Seattle lay fifteen hundred miles south along the cold and rocky coast. Lying in Anchorage in the king-sized bed, it felt like I had stepped onto the set of a Twilight Zone episode—or maybe something just a little more sinister. The cold eye of the moon peered through a sliver in the heavy drapes. I was too tired to get up and pull them shut, but the feeling of being watched made me uneasy as I finally fell off to sleep.

Whatever was out there chased me through my dreams. A shadowy, relentless beast. Not far behind, and always gaining ground.

In the morning, I woke with my head full of fog, unable to recall anything from those dreams other than the barest feelings. My body felt like it had been filled with wet sand. By the time I was dressed and set my brush down, my phone was ringing.

“Morning,” I answered without looking at the screen, secure in the knowledge that Lian was on the other end of the line.

“Hey babe. I’ve sent a car and there will be coffee waiting when you get here. Ten minutes. You good with that?”

“Yep, ready to go.”

“See you soon!” The call ended before I could say anything else, and I launched into preparing my bag now devoid of my schoolbooks. I threw my laptop, a fresh notebook, some pens… and for good measure, my camera and digital recorder.

Last but not least, I grabbed my keys from the corner of the desk beneath the window. The ring wasn’t large, but it was weighted down significantly by one particular item: a slender, silver shape that looked for all the world like a penlight. And it was just that, as long as you only pressed the button nestled in the rounded end.

The keys went into my jacket pocket, and I thought about them the whole way down to the lobby. That secret knife brought memories flooding back into my mind. It looked like a timeless little trinket, the kind of thing sitting at the front counter of souvenir shops. But it was actually years old, a relic of