Chapter 2

ALLISON

I smiled when he did, the force of his rage washing over me like a cooling balm on fevered skin. There was no easier target than one blinded by emotion, especially when that emotion was one as volatile and consuming as anger. I evaded his careless attack with a fluid sidestep, dipping under the fist he swung at my head and sliding to his back.

Maybe this was exactly what I needed. A fight to anchor me, to keep my mind off the disconcerting changes tearing through my body. Nothing lifted my mood quite like the opportunity to pummel leeches.

For the first time in days, the static in my head cleared. I was relieved of the sensory overload that had threatened to madden me.

The leech stumbled, momentum carrying him forward, but he hastily righted himself, spinning to throw himself at me once again. Appearance-wise, the vampire looked level-headed; handsome, composed, but appearances were a treacherous currency. I’d learned that a long time ago. The way he moved was anything but composed. It was feral.

He threw another fist in my direction, a wild, telegraphed arc. Was he trying to bore me to death with these predictable attacks? I almost yawned as I weaved past him again. He growled, a guttural sound tearing from his throat, baring his bloodied fangs at me.

Regrettably, my attention snagged on the crimson staining his mouth, and my focus faltered.

Suddenly, the scent hit me. I could smell the copper tang of his breath despite the distance between us, and it was disorienting. A thick, metallic perfume that coated my tongue. A drum began to beat inside of my skull. My mouth watered, yet my throat felt drier than the shifting sands of a desert. The unending thirst returned with a vengeance, a beast rattling its cage, having me so fucked up that for a split second, I imagined licking the blood straight off this vampire's canines.

Dammit, Allison. Now isn't the time for this.

I managed to drag my bearings back, but a heartbeat too late. The vampire slammed into me, his massive frame forcing me to the ground. The air left my lungs in a harsh whoosh as my spine collided with the unforgiving concrete. The pain radiating through my back hadn't even registered before his fist connected with the side of my face.

Crack.

The sound echoed in my ears before a second fist hammered the other side.

My head swam, galaxies of black stars dotting my vision. Not a good sign.

Dammit. The brute packs a mean punch. Another clean hit and it would be lights out for me.

I didn't let him land a third blow. I drove my foot upward, aiming for his groin with all the desperate force I could muster. A dirty move, I know, but there was no such thing as honour when fighting leeches. Their mere existence betrayed the concept of fairness. He bellowed, a sound of pure indignation and pain, and clutched his jewels. I took the opportunity to scramble away, putting precious distance between us as I tried to clear the fog in my brain.

The world around me swayed like a ship in a storm. I fell into a crouch, clutching my knees, desperate to steady the horizon.

As I did, the sound of rapid-fire tore through the air, so loud my eardrums threatened to burst. I looked up to see the vampire shielding himself from a hail of bullets that were slowly turning his trench coat into Swiss cheese.

"Allison, are you okay?" Lacey's voice crackled through my receiver. "That was a mean punch you took back there."

"I'm fine," I replied, the words thick. We both knew it was a lie. I could barely stand on my own two feet, and the world was splitting into double images.

Shake it off. You've taken worse hits. I forced myself to straighten, ignoring the wave of nausea and pain that floated through my skull.

Bear it. You can take a handful of painkillers and have a really long nap once the vamps are put down.

A nap sounded heavenly.

"Cease fire," I commanded through the receiver.

Silence fell over the alley, heavy and sudden. I was grateful for the reprieve.

I stared at the vampire before me with undisguised disgust. Bullet holes dotted almost every inch of his clothes, crimson stained the dark fabric and pooled on the ground around him. A normal man would be meat after that barrage, yet he stood.

I moved silently, stalking behind him, using his current agony as a shroud. Without a moment's hesitation, I plunged my blade into his back, relishing the familiar, sickening slide of metal parting flesh. He gave a pained yell, stumbling forward and clutching his side.

"You Hunter bitch!" He spat the words with venom, blood seeping through the fingers he pressed against the wound. I hadn't hit anything vital, a strike like that wouldn't be fatal to his kind. But it wouldn't heal. Not anytime soon.

That was the beauty of my sword. My most prized possession. Anyone kissed by its edge was cursed with a wound that refused to close. No medicine, no dark magic could stitch it shut. The curse would only end if passed to another. Unless my blade tasted someone else's flesh, that wound would weep for eternity. Or at least until his death.

Still, even though it would never heal, it was merely a flesh wound. With his vampire resilience, he remained a major threat. I needed to finish him.

Before his brother woke from his slumber.

I flicked my wrist, shaking off the dark droplets of his blood that clung to my steel, and poised to attack.

Then there was a shift in the air. His posture straightened. The tension returned to his frame, his hands falling away from the bleeding stab wound in his side.

"So, you're the little Hunter we were warned to be cautious about," he murmured. "I didn't recognize you at first, but seeing as my wound isn't knitting itself back together, you must be the Mortal Reaper."

His voice was deep, smooth, possessing an almost melodic lull, like velvet wrapped around gravel. It was jarringly different from the feral shouts he'd let out moments ago. His demeanour shifted instantly, as if I were suddenly facing an entirely different entity. The hasty, angry beast was gone. In his place stood a predator, his eyes cautiously observing me, dissecting me for weaknesses.

"I'd thought the rumours about you were exaggerated."

I wasn’t the least bit fazed by his comment. It wasn’t odd that my targets knew my reputation. In fact, some overconfident abominations sought me out, eager to claim the head of the ‘Mortal Reaper’ as a trophy. Seeing as I still stood, they had all failed. I was yet to lose a fight against one of their kind.

"You must have heard how awesome and gorgeous I am, I assume," I deadpanned, my eyes locking on his as I began to circle him. "Gosh, I never thought I'd become a celebrity, but here I am. I guess it can't be helped with all my unearthly charms."

There was something unsettling about his sudden composure. I still didn't know what arsenal was hidden beneath that trench coat. I needed to be extra cautious.

The abominations were usually fans of primitive weapons; swords and spears, but on occasion, I met those who carried firearms. No matter how talented I was, I was still human. A bullet could end me as easily as anyone else. I'd much rather not get shot tonight.

"Indeed," he replied, matching my pace as he circled me. "You're very popular amongst us these days. The beautiful crimson-haired reaper is all the rage."

His eyes remained fixed on the long sword I held, but his gaze looked covetous. Eyeing my sword? My grip tightened on the hilt until my knuckles turned white. Over my dead body would anyone pry this steel from my hands. I had bled to earn this weapon. It was a part of me. No one would take my trophy.

"All this flattery will make me blush. Are you by chance trying to butter me up so I spare you? Let me just tell you, it won't work. I have no plans of letting you walk out of here alive."

He laughed, a hearty, resonant sound that was oddly pleasing to the ear. Sometimes I had to remind myself that vampires didn't cackle like fairytale villains, they charmed you before they tore your throat out.

"I wouldn't dare imagine such a thing. In all honesty, I've wanted to meet you since the moment I heard your name. I wanted to meet the mortal who'd managed to fell so many immortals with nothing but a strip of steel. The last thing I desire is for you to hold back."

"What are you? A fan of mine? Or do you have a crush on me?" The back-and-forth was entertaining, but the hairs on my arms rose. He was stalling. What for? I couldn't get a read on him.

"A crush seems very fitting," he chuckled, flashing his blood-stained fangs.

"And how do I fare in reality? Did I meet your expectations?"

"You've surpassed them," he said, a teasing smile lighting up his handsome face. Damn. It had to be a crime to look that good while bleeding out. Why did their kind always have to be so easy on the eyes? It was a cruel evolutionary joke. "Looks like I'm not the only one with a crush. Do you like what you see, Reaper?"

I fought back the heat creeping up my neck at being caught ogling the enemy. "Very much so. It's almost a shame I have to cut you down," I said, masking my embarrassment with sass.

"You don't have to do that. You could always take me home with you," he purred, an almost seductive darkness entering his gaze as it trailed down my body, lingering on my curves like he wanted to taste them. "You'd find me to be quite... domestic."

"Tempting, but no thank you. I don’t dig biting." I tapped my own canines.

"A shame. I would have taken good care of your lithe little body," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating against my skin.

I caught a glint in his eye. Attack.

He dove for me. From his stance, I anticipated the strike, he looked like he was about to slash at me with his claws, but I knew he wasn't stupid enough to try the same move twice.

It was a feint. If I ducked to dodge again, he would pin me with his boot. I almost laughed at the pitiful attempt. Did he think I was some novice who would fall for such an obvious ruse?

I kept my expression blank, pretending I was about to duck. In reality, I tightened my grip on the hilt, readying to slice his neck clean through. Strike before he even lifts his boot off the ground. I imagined the clean separation of skin and bone, the satisfying thud of his head hitting the pavement.

This was supposed to be a recovery mission, but I was sure the Leader wouldn't be too mad if I killed one of them. He expected violence from me.

When he was a foot away, I aimed for his throat and struck.

But my blade wouldn't move.

It had stopped dead, caught on an immovable object. Wide-eyed, I turned back to see the second twin, the one whose skull had shattered, grinning at me. He held the sharp end of my sword in his bare hand. The hole in his head was gone, the bone knitted seamless. The blade bit deep into his palm, blood dripping down the steel, but he didn't even flinch.

How on earth did he heal so quickly?

"Got ya," he mouthed, his grin widening into something feral.

So that was the plan.

I cursed, realizing too late the trap I’d walked into. In the same breath, the trench coat twin plunged a dagger into my midsection.

A scream tore from my throat as fire invaded my stomach. Fuck! He’d been stalling for his brother to regenerate, and I had foolishly played right into their hands. How hadn’t I noticed the monster rousing?

He twisted the blade slowly, grinding it against muscle and rib. A fresh wave of agony ripped another cry from my lips as my flesh gave way.

"I just knew your cries of pain would be as enticing as the rest of you," he whispered.

"Fucking bastard," I spat through clenched teeth, the taste of copper filling my mouth. I tried to wrench away, but I was sandwiched between two walls of immortal muscle.

"We have the Mortal Reaper weak and defenseless in our grasp," Trench Coat whispered, his hot breath ghosting over the shell of my ear. I shuddered, fear and a dark, confusing heat coiling in my gut. "We can literally do anything we please with you."

Earlier, the intrusive thought of being sandwiched by them had felt like a fantasy. Now, the reality was a nightmare. I struggled, thrashing against them, but I was a child fighting giants.

I waited for the crack of gunfire, for my backup to do their jobs. But silence reigned.

I looked up, straining against the hold, and understood why. The two large males who were supposed to be my shield were on their knees, weapons dropped, eyes glazed over in a stupor. Even Lacey, my eagle-eyed guardian, dangled from the roof edge, her vibrant green orbs equally empty.

"What did you do to them?" I screamed at the vampire behind me.

"Oh, pipe down. They're not dead. Just out of commission for the time being," he said, rolling his eyes as if I were being dramatic. "Are you even in any position to be worrying about others right now? You're in more danger than they are."

As if to punctuate his brother's words, the vampire holding the dagger twisted the blade again.

Another scream tore from my throat, raw and shattering.