Page 116 of Hoofin’ It

Great. I found nothing soothing about the situation, but without a way to vocalize my misgivings, I was forced to accept my fate with a heavy sigh.

Quinton pulled me out of his jacket, looked me in the eye, and did something—something that made me a prisoner in my own body. Abil Ili reached out, and his claw pierced my shoulder near my spine. Pain flashed through my body, blinding in its intensity. When my vision cleared, I was human, sprawled on blue crystal with Quinton straddling my chest, his gaze locked on mine.

My right arm hung limp in his hand, and without breaking our eye contact, he brought my wrist to his mouth and bit down.

I understood why Ernesto and his brood partnered with demons; sharp but jagged teeth tearing through my skin hurt far worse than I could’ve imagined. Any other time, I would’ve screamed.

The vampire’s bite woke every nerve in my body, and the agony in my back and chest exploded, searing away all other thought.

“San Valentina Gula did not exaggerate,” Abil Ili murmured, and one of his hook-tipped claws traced the scar running from my brow down to my chin. With a twist of his tentacle, he stole my right eye, pulling it from the scarred socket with a soft pop. “This—now this is a disgrace. This marble. They would inflict this thing upon one of their own? It is not art, it is not magic, it is nothing—glass.”

Quinton released my wrist; my blood stained his lips and dripped down his chin. “More soothing, less yapping.”

Then he bit me again, latching onto my wrist, and heat flared up my arm to my head. I expected fire but got ice deep in my skull, and what started as a shiver ended as a shuddering convulsion. My world narrowed to my chest and the stabbing pain each time I struggled to draw a breath.

I remembered the sensation; the instant I’d smacked into the canal, the air had rushed out of me, and with my next choked, gasping breath, I’d tasted blood. The water had flowed into my mouth, and I’d gone under.

Abil Ili stroked the back of his tentacle along my jaw to my throat. The moment he hooked his claw into my neck, my entire body jerked, and my head went numb. The edges of my vision grew hazy, but I saw several more of the mosaic-skinned Babylonians approaching with their claws dripping black fluid.

One by one, they pierced my skin with their hooks, and numbness spread from their touch.

Quinton’s eyes remained locked on mine until I sank into a cold, dark void.

My phone rang. If I could get my hands on the wretched device, I’d fling it as hard as I could in the hope it’d shatter into a thousand pieces.

Wait. How could my phone be ringing? I remembered changing the ringtone on the new device to a shrill, evil sound meant to wake the dead, but I’d lost it when I’d fallen into the canal, hadn’t I? Confusion paralyzed me until I remembered I needed to breathe, and I sucked in a breath.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the worst example of false advertising I’ve ever met, Abil Ili?” Quinton grumbled. After the third ring, my phone fell silent. “Can you explain the clothes thing?”

“A rather useful talent for a shifter. He will enjoy not destroying his wardrobe whenever he desires to wear a fur coat,” the Babylonian murmured. “The phone woke him.”

Great, the tentacled, clawed terror knew I was awake. “That hurt,” I rasped.

Quinton sighed. “Well, dying typically is painful. Sorry about the bite, Gibby. There’s no way to make it hurt less without help. I didn’t want to do it like that, but you thrashing around wouldn’t have been good.”

I shuddered at the memory of claws tearing through my skin. “That should classify as cruel and unusual punishment.”

“You can kneecap me later as many times as you want.”

“You don’t have enough kneecaps for me to do that.”

“I volunteer Papa’s.”

“Better.” I groaned, cracked open my eye, and stared up at countless sapphire crystals encrusting the distant ceiling. “What was that about clothes?”

“When you shifted, your clothes shifted with you. I’m afraid your suit’s ruined; we had to cut it off you. Your phone seems to have survived, along with your wallet. Cute guns.”

“When a lady gives you cute guns, you carry them.” I braced for pain and lurched upright, but beyond the pull of sore, aching muscles, I didn’t hurt. They’d cut my suit off, but someone had found a replacement, and it fit better than the original. “I only own one suit, so who’d you mug for this one?”

“The determination of the Babylonians to be good hosts is unmatched. While Abil Ili and his soothers were tending to you, others decided to replace your attire.”

“Thank you. How long have I been out?”

“Twelve hours. All things considered, not bad. I called Papa and told him we were occupied and you were safe. I didn’t tell him what we were doing. He would’ve stormed the castle and fidgeted. It’s so very annoying when he fidgets.”

“No kidding,” I muttered, shaking my head in the futile effort of clearing away the foggy feeling, as though my skull was stuffed full of cotton balls. Turning until I could see Abil Ili out of my left eye, I said, “Thank you.”

“The honor is mine, my friend.” The Babylonian’s gaze shifted to Quinton. “You should tell him.”