harsh.” Now we could both see the end approaching, as fast and as hard as a speeding train. Opening the hand that had punched him, I shoved the kid back hard. He stumbled, arms pinwheeling for balance. Predictably, I saw him try to grab for the poker set. It was a pure defensive reaction.
It was also too late. In the next instant, I had caught him by the face, gripping his jaw in the vise of my thumb and fingers. The nails on that hand crept upward toward his temples as they lengthened into vicious talons. This time, I put the fangs on full display.
He couldn’t talk, although he did try. His hands clawed uselessly at my arm, feet scrabbling against the smooth wooden floor. I glanced down at the scuff marks left by his heels and shook my head.
The voice that left me was not the one that mortals heard. I spoke to Steele’s doomed henchman in my true voice, the one that belied the depths of my age. When it touched his ears, the young vamp squirmed in terror.
“You were never a negotiator, boy.” I propped his chin up on the razor-sharp tip of a claw. “No. You were a sacrifice.”
His terrified eyes widened. Then I was the one grabbing a poker out of the stand, gripping it firmly in my palm. Its blunted end plunged through his chest with little fanfare. The dull light drained from his eyes. His mouth went slack. No blood whatsoever dripped from the brand-new wound.
I dropped him where I stood. Out of view of the sun’s descending eye, he sprawled limply over the floorboards. Nothing but a wretched shell now, a lifeless ghoul. If I had the option of waiting until morning, he would simply be incinerated into dust and blown away. But there was no doubt he’d be missed before long. After the first outsider vamp had turned up dead in the street, they’d be keeping a close eye on the rest.
Gazing down at the body, I had to admit I felt something like a stab of regret. Not because he was dead by my hand, but because I had just created more work for myself by killing him. I grimaced, bent down, seized him by the leg, and dragged him unceremoniously toward the cellar door.
Other than the thump of the corpse on the steps, the house was quiet. I could count on Seth to be gone more often than not, but I wondered if Logan was hidden in his roost, silent and listening. The thought was only disconcerting for a moment. What could he do? We were in league with each other, all three of us. Hell, I could force them to help me take the garbage out, so to speak.
And maybe I would, if for no other reason than to remind them who was in charge.
Minutes later, I locked first the cellar door, then the front door of the house behind me. I needed to gain the upper hand against those who would come searching for him in hours, if not sooner. I needed to track their movements. And there was one place I knew the rats from Seattle loved to congregate—among the bars downtown.
The trail led me toward the run-down, unimpressive façade of a place called Inlet Drive. Neon signs flickered in the two front panes of glass as I approached. I could hear the faint strains of music coming from inside.
Then there was movement in the narrow alley on the left. All my senses went on high alert. I listened for the sound of a heartbeat, a pulse, the smell of blood pumping just beneath human skin. As a figure emerged around the side of the building, heading for the entrance, I melted back into the darkness. But I could still see her with all the intensity of a beacon, especially the strange, silvery rose glow of her hair.
And for some reason, I couldn’t tear my gaze away. There was something hypnotic about the way she moved, the way her body seemed to glow in the dim light, giving off its own power. I almost wanted to call out to her before she reached for the door handle and disappeared inside. The words rose dangerously close to the top of my throat, though I refused to release them.
It didn’t matter. All of a sudden, the woman’s face turned in my direction. Her eyes, pale and piercing, bored straight through the night into mine with uncanny precision, as