"Oh, we do that, too. But we change it up to keep it interesting."
Bingo, Della thought. They could leave now. Unfortunately, she didn't see that happening.
The girl turned and looked at Della with something akin to hatred. Della knew this was the girl she was supposed to fight.
The smell of dried blood in the air warned Della just how far this fight was supposed to go.
She looked at the leader of the rogues who had met them. "It's hard to fight someone I have nothing against."
"When she takes her first punch, you'll have something against her. She's not nearly as weak as she looks. Sort of like you, I'll bet." He pulled out his knife again. "Go fight her, Miss Sass, and let's see how good you really are."
Della swallowed a knot of fear, but she forced herself to ask. "Where does this end?"
"What do you mean?" he asked, but his smirk told her he knew exactly what she meant.
"I knock her out, it's over, right?" She was hoping.
His eyes brightened with plain ol' evilness. "What fun would that be?" He brought the knife up and stared at the blade. "It ends when one of you stops breathing and becomes a willing blood donor, that's when it's over. So the question is, will we be drinking your blood at sunrise or hers?"
"Hmm," Della said, and worked at keeping the horror from showing on her face. She glanced at Steve. He cut his eyes up to the ceiling. She didn't know what the hell the message was, but she hoped it meant he had a plan. Because, God help her, she couldn't think of one right now. And she was either about to kill someone, or be killed.
Chapter Five
Della got into the ring thinking there would be a bell, thinking she'd come up with a way out of this crap, but nope-on both counts. Before she had a chance to catch her breath, the girl attacked.
Della still didn't have a clue what to do. But when she took a fist to the cheek and it hurt like hell, she decided letting this girl beat the crap out of her wasn't a good plan, either.
Della ducked the girl's second punch. The crowd booed.
The were came at her again and Della grabbed the girl by the arm and unceremoniously tossed her across the ring. She landed hard, but was back on her feet in seconds. As the girl danced around throwing punches like some boxing queen, Della briefly found Steve in the crowd. He glared right at her and then cut his eyes upward again.
The second of lost focus cost Della dearly, for the girl struck again, this time kicking Della right in the ribs. Air whooshed out of her lungs as pain caused her to stumble back. That's when her gaze caught the slight opening in the ceiling, where an air vent had once been.
Okay, now she knew Steve's plan, but didn't he realize that these other vamps could fly, too?
Another foot came at Della's face. She grabbed the leg by the ankle and slung the girl outside the ring. Yelps and cries for blood echoed from the crowd. The girl landed in a group of vamps, but she must have been made of rubber, because she bounced back up and charged again.
She leapt into the ring. Her eyes glowed the notable orange color of a pissed-off were. She kicked up her foot, Della went to block it. A bad mistake, because she didn't see what the B with an itch had in her hands until it was too late.
The knife came right at Della's heart. Her only defense was to block it with her arm. The blade sliced into her forearm and it felt like a burn, hot, yet cold at the same time. The smell of blood filled her nose.
Her own blood.
She heard the hungry cries from the audience.
The girl took a step back, but only to charge again. The knife was aimed right at Della's chest. A roar, not from the crowd, but from some exotic feline animal, rang in Della's ears.
Fury, hot red rage, filled Della's heart at the same time the knife sank into her chest, right below her collarbone. Amazingly, she felt more anger than pain. Grabbing the girl by the shoulders, she slung her. It looked like slow motion. Felt like slow motion, as the knife sliced its way out of Della's chest. Breath held in pain, she watched as the girl flew away, the knife, still in her hands, dripping blood from the tip of the blade.
Then Della saw the supersized lion, AKA Steve, charging toward the ring mauling anyone who dared get in his way. Go Steve! She pointed up and then with everything she had, she leapt straight into the air, barely fitting through the tight little exit. And right behind her, hauling ass, was a Peregrine falcon.
She continued upward knowing the vamps, at least the ones who could fit through the tight opening, would be behind them. She ignored the burning sensation in her shoulder. Suddenly aware she didn't hear the flap of a bird's wings, she glanced back. Steve had returned to the roof, transformed into a dragon, and was in the process of breathing fire into the hole in the old building. Damn, but the guy made a nice-looking dragon.
Obviously, the building had some sort of insulation that wasn't fire resistant, because smoke started billowing out of the roof almost immediately.
In seconds, sparkles started popping off around the dragon and Steve was back to being a Peregrine. They flew off hard and fast. She kept looking back, praying the rogues weren't there. Thankfully, only the darkness chased them.
Suddenly, Steve started down.
"No," she screamed at him. "We need to keep going. They'll come after us!"
He didn't listen, but continued down and landed in a dark alley much like the one they'd been in last night. Six-foot-high wooden fences lined the pathway, as if too keep riffraff out. The overflowing garbage cans that smelled like spoiled fruit seemed to hold up the fences, some of which looked rotted. By the time she landed, Steve was already human.
"Shit," he said, grabbing her arm. The sweet smell of her own blood chased away the smell of garbage and filled Della's senses.
"You know," she said, flinching at the pain both in her arm and her upper chest, "you did good."
"You are not going to die!" he seethed.
"Who said anything about dying?" She found it hard to focus on him and she blinked a couple of times.
"You just complimented me," he said in a low growl. "That tells me how seriously hurt you are."
She grinned and she couldn't hold the gesture in place. "I'm not that bad, am I?"
"No, you're not that bad. Just stubborn..." he met her gaze, "and perfect," he said, but his voice sounded distant. "I need to get you to a hospital."