“I’m not going to kiss and tell.”
“Elisa Sullivan. You may be a vampire, but you are not a good liar. You’ve told me about every kiss you’ve ever had. And the times you didn’t get kissed.”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Michael McGregor.”
“Michael McGregor and I went to second base.”
“Michael McGregor accidentally brushed your boob while you were showing off Krav Maga moves. Then you threw him to the floor and broke his arm.”
“Nose. And it wasn’t on purpose. He just had a bad landing.”
Her mouth twitched. “Whatever. The point it, you enjoy sharing details with me. So how’s the trip going vis-à-vis the romance?”
“He’s into me, and I’m on the same page. I’m just trying to . . . let it happen. In between attempts to kill me.”
She reached out, squeezed my arm. “My little girl is growing up.”
TWENTY-ONE
Connor borrowed Georgia’s SUV, and Theo and I climbed in for the trip into Grand Bay proper to threaten the spellseller. Apparently a glutton for punishment, Alexei opted to stand guard at the cabin, keep an eye on Lulu.
“Is it just me,” Connor asked when we were on the road, “or is that cat unnerving?”
He pushed a hand through his hair like a man who’d just survived a standoff.
“Unnerving,” Theo agreed from the backseat.
I glanced back at Theo. “You’re a former cop and an excellent shot”—then I looked at Connor—“and you’re a wolf. We’re chasing down magically enhanced shifter hybrids because you’re required by arcane Pack magic, and you’re unnerved by an eight-pound cat?”
“I didn’t say it was logical,” Connor said. “I just said I was unnerved.”
I wasn’t unnerved by her so much as flummoxed.
What did Petra have that I didn’t? I’d fed her. Called her by her full name. Attempted to pet her, although admittedly that hadn’t gone well.
“For an eight-pound cat,” Theo said, “she sure requires a lot of energy. Maybe she’s one of those psychic vampires.”
I opened my mouth to argue, tell him that wasn’t a real thing. But we were chasing down the rogue spellseller who had probably turned a bunch of twenty-year-olds into those monster hybrids.
So I just saved my breath.
* * *
* * *
“It’s not a bad downtown,” Theo said when Connor had parked and we were walking along the brick storefronts. “Cute, with the flower beds and the signs and the happy couples.”
“Everything’s perfect in Grand Bay,” Connor said. “Until you consider the asshole Supernaturals.”
We turned the corner to reach the street where the shop was located—and stared at one of those asshole Supernaturals.
The black hybrid.
My heart began to thud, blood speeding from the possibility of battle, and the memory of the last time I’d faced this particular monster. My monster watched the scene warily, but hadn’t yet decided if it wanted any part of this particular beast.
“What are we calling them now?” I whispered.
“I think the nomenclature is not the most important consideration,” Theo said. “And I’m going to just take this opportunity to say ‘holy shit.’”
“Asshole Supernatural works for me,” Connor said, and I got a minor warm fuzzy for having thought the same thing.
“It’s alone,” I said. “I wonder if it’s headed for the same place we are.”
“It looks like it could use another dose of whatever candy the spellseller is handing out,” Theo said. “I mean, I know I’m the relative newbie here, but it looks . . . sick?”
It still bore cuts and scrapes from the fight, and it still fit the “stringy” description. But Theo was right—it looked thinner than it had at the bonfire, bone and tendons standing out in sharp relief.
“The magic isn’t doing him any good,” Connor guessed. “It’s tearing him apart.”
Magic had a nasty way of doing that to the uninitiated. It was power, and anyone who failed to respect that usually suffered the consequences. I wondered if that explained why my monster hadn’t yet reared its head. It was attracted to power, but there was degradation here.
“And where the hell are the other three?” Connor asked.
We waited for a moment, watching the other roads for the other beasts to come loping toward us.
They didn’t, but the humans who’d just come out of the bar at the other end of the street screamed. One couple ran back inside; another pulled out their screens to record the scene for posterity.
The beast turned at the sound, swiping out an arm and flipping a bench so it tumbled down the street like a toy.
“Shit,” Connor said. “Anybody by chance have an idea which shifter this is?”
“None,” I said.
“So let’s try them all. Zane! Beyo! John! Marcus!”
He paused between each name, and the beast seemed to flinch when he said, “Beyo,” but it roared again, swiped a planter this time, sending it careening into a bar’s window. Glass shattered, and more humans screamed.
This was about to get very, very nasty.
“I’ll go around through the alley,” Theo suggested, “and come at him from the other side.”
“Do that,” Connor said. “But get the humans inside first.”
Theo nodded, then jogged around the building and out of sight.
“Over here!” Connor called out, and waved his arms, trying to get the beast to move away from the bar, from the people inside.
It lifted its head, bared its fangs at us, and began moving toward us.
“Are all your vacations this fun?” I asked, unsheathing my sword.
“Only the ones with hot vampires,” he said, and pulled his own blade—a wicked-looking thing with gnarled edges. Now on the other side of the monster, Theo guided humans into the bar.
“Go low,” I told Connor. “I’ll go high.”
“Roger that,” he said, and as the distance between us grew shorter, we raised our blades in preparation for the fight.
The creature lifted its muzzle, and I crouched, anticipating the howl that would precede its rush forward.