Page 10

I crouch down in front of one of the women. The one who seems the most together, holding her young children protectively against her. She glares at me, trying to look tough. Mamma bear with cubs. The tear tracks on her cheeks and her racing heartbeat give her away, and I keep my voice low and calm.

“What’s your name?” I ask. I throw a little charm into it, gently imposing my will, and she softens.

“Bethany. This is Kevin and Kayleigh.”

I nod and smile. “Nice to meet you all. Now, can you tell me what happened?”

Her lower lip trembles, and her kids cling to her. Their fear is intoxicating, the smell of prey overwhelming. The mom has a cut on her hand, fresh blood seeping from the wound. For vamps less controlled than me, this would be too much temptation. Matteo turns away, like he always does when he wavers.

“Monsters happened!” Bethany says, her voice barely there. “We were in bed; it was a normal night … then the church bells started ringing. That only happens for services or when there’s a problem. Like, a big problem—you know, a forest fire or something?”

This is a tight-knit community. Tied by blood and family. Generations of people who rarely leave this tiny town, all linked by shared lives. Now that whole community is well and truly fucked. Even the ones who survive this will never be the same again.

“Kenneth, my husband, he ran out to see what was going on, and they took him … dear God, they took him, the monsters took him. Just swooped in and carried him off. They flew away. I’m sure they flew away. But that ain’t right, is it? That can’t be …”

“No. Maybe it only looked like that. Maybe it was a big animal?”

She nods, her rational mind clinging to the idea, because it’s a hell of a lot easier to digest than flying monsters. I’ve never met a vampire who can actually fly, though legend says they exist. But most can leap so high that to a confused, terrified woman, it would look the same.

“Mountain lions?” she asks me.

I nod. Mountain lions are as good as anything. She’s seen the stack of bodies in the center of the town, but somehow her logic allows her to ignore that. Most mountain lions wouldn’t bother making a display of their victims. No animals would do what has been done here.

I speak to each of the survivors, and most of them are receptive to the whole mountain lion theory. One, though, a crabby old bastard who looks almost as ancient as me, just glares, his arms folded over his chest. “It were vampires,” he says simply, nodding. “Like you. Don’t try and convince me otherwise, fella. I’ve been around. What you planning on doing to us?”

I take in his long silver hair, huge beard. Alert blue eyes beneath bushy gray eyebrows. “Vampires? You must be mistaken. They don’t exist.” I tell him. We lock gazes, and there’s a battle of wills. Fuck me if he doesn’t win. No idea why I can’t force my mind on him, but for some reason, he’s immune. Every now and then you come across a human who is.

He shakes his head and points a gnarled finger at me. “That don’t work on me, son. Don’t bother trying. But I’ll go along. Mountain lions, it is. I know better than to go up against you. Promise you’ll leave us be, and I’ll stick to the story.”

I can hear his heart racing, and the occasional bumps and skips that tell me his heart won’t be beating for that much longer. He’s putting on a brave face, but he’s scared, as he should be. A lot of humans who find out about us are simply killed or locked in a dungeon like the journalist from Miami. “I can tell you what I know about ‘em,” he adds.

“Deal. You have my word I won’t harm anyone here. In fact, I’ll help, in any way you need.”

No fucking clue what I could possibly do to try and fix this mess, but he seems to accept it. “There were maybe ten of the fuckers,” he tells me, keeping his voice low so the others don’t hear. “Rang the church bell, so the first wave of people went out to see what the fuss was all about. Then once they were done with them, they went house to house, rounding people up. Whole families, kids. Babies. Chasing them around like they were playing a game. Laughing their asses off while they bit into them … I saw it all from my attic. Locked myself in, knew there was nothing I could do. They were in a frenzy all right.”

“What were they wearing? Any kind of uniform, like us?”

“Nah. They were a real mixed bunch. Some of them looked like us, jeans and shirts, some biker boots. Others were kind of strange, old-fashioned, you know? Haircuts like something outta the seventies. Mainly men but a couple of women too. Didn’t look like they belonged together. Only thing they had in common was killing.”

I take it all in. Definitely not a Cosca from the sound of it. Part of me had wondered if it was an attack by one of the other families, deliberately targeting our territory. Provoking me in the same way as with the challenges at court. But this sounds too chaotic, too vindictive even, and the vamps sound too mismatched. Could just be bad luck for the town of Goliath or could be something more coordinated. I don’t know yet.

I thank the man—Jeremy McGee, he tells me, a name I file away for future reference—and leave Stefano and his men to tend to the humans. I hear a commotion from outside, screaming and yelling. A male voice, begging for mercy. Ah, I think, smiling to myself. Looks like Rosa has found her prey.

Out on the street, she’s literally dragging a vampire along by his hair. He has it long, which he’s probably now regretting, and he’s wearing a Black Sabbath T-shirt that’s dark with blood. New world, at a guess transformed in the seventies like Jeremy said. They tend to cling to their tastes, never quite able to move on. He’s letting out cries of pain as Rosa bumps him along, deliberately slamming him up and down as she goes, her strength way beyond what a woman her size should have.

Donna is at her side, enjoying the show, letting out little tinkles of laughter each time his skull gets cracked on the ground. “Oh, I love that sound!” she says, clapping her hands together.

Rosa drops him abruptly. “Don’t kill me!” he begs, cowering away from her, his arms wrapped around his head. Idiot child. He should be protecting his heart.

“Is that what they said to you? Don’t kill me?” she asks, standing above him, hands on hips. Her green eyes are shining, and her fury is shimmering around her. “All these people? That kid over there in his jammies? Did they beg, did they cry? I bet they did. And I bet you enjoyed it. Now, you’re going to tell me everything you can about what happened here. The names of your friends, where they live. Everything. You understand?”

He looks up, blood pouring from his nose. “And then … then you’ll let me go?”

“Oh, sweetie, no. The only place you’re going is straight to hell. But I promise I’ll send you there quickly, no pain, no torture. I won’t let my boyfriend loose on you with his ice cream scoop.”

The vamp looks confused, follows her gaze to me. Her boyfriend. He takes me in, my size, my power, the snarl of my fangs. He gulps. “Ice cream scoop?”

“Yes,” she tells him. “Ingenious, isn’t it? They’re absolutely the best tool for removing eyeballs—they get right to the back, and then pop, out they come. And you wouldn’t believe what he can do with a pizza cutter, or a cheese grater … I bet these nice people have plenty of fun kitchen implements we can use. What do you think, Donna?”