And then he pulled back abruptly. I immediately reached for the crossbow, now propped against the tree by my leg. “What?” I mouthed silently.
The cloak of the predator settled over him, or else the humanness he wore like a costume peeled away. I could never quite be sure. He turned his head but his body stayed right where it was, pressed against mine. I shifted, knowing exactly what he was doing. It was biologically impossible for a Drake not to make themselves into a shield. It didn’t matter, I could shoot over his shoulder if I had to.
His pupils dilated, the black edging out that icy mysterious blue. His cheekbones looked like they might cut right through his skin. “Hel-Blar coming this way,” he murmured. “They’re after something.” His nostrils flared. His lips lifted off his fangs, now poking out of his gums. “This way,” he said sharply, taking me by the hand and pulling me behind him.
We scaled the neighbor’s fence instead of my grandfather’s and cut between the houses to the road. “He’s fine,” Quinn said when I paused under one of the windows. “He’s in the shower.”
Relieved, I followed him to the sidewalk. The streetlights glowed with amber light. A car passed us. I squinted, trying to see what it was Quinn had smelled, besides rotting mushrooms. I had to jog to keep up with him. Several houses down, near the corner, I finally saw what he saw.
A body sprawled at the edge of someone’s garden, half-tucked behind a parked car.
My jog turned into a sprint. Quinn got there first, then recoiled. A woman lay half-conscious, blood pouring from her throat. There were raw scrapes and bruises on her wrists. I pulled a bandanna out of my pocket and pressed it against her wound. She swallowed, eyelids fluttering weakly.
“Vamp . . . ire . . . ,” she moaned.
“A vampire didn’t do that,” Quinn disagreed immediately. “There are way too many scents on her. ”
“She was left on the street of a well-known vampire hunter,” I pointed out, thinking of what my grandfather would have done if he’d found her. “That’s not a coincidence.” I tucked us deeper into the shadows of the hedge. The last thing we needed was for someone to look out their window and call the cops. Or turn vigilante. Thank God, we were out of the range of Mrs. Gormley’s binoculars.
“You wait for your unit,” he said darkly as I reached for my cell phone. “And I’ll go deal with the Hel-Blar before they join the party.”
When I glanced up, he was already gone.
“Help is coming. ” I pressed as hard as I could on her neck. “Try to stay with me. Can you tell me what happened?” Her hands twitched. “Did you say a vampire did this to you?”
She moved her head, as if trying to shake it. “Vampires. Humans too,” she wheezed, pale as the snow around her. She shivered as shock set in. “Caves.” She shivered more violently. I tried to staunch the blood seeping faster through the bandanna. “Sun tattoo.”
Sun tattoo.
Helios-Ra agents had sun tattoos.
I felt hot and cold all over, that icy feeling of dread tingling under my skin again.
“Was it Dawn?” I asked. “Someone named Dawn?”
The woman didn’t answer me. She’d already passed out. I didn’t have time to try to revive her and press her for more details before a dark minivan with a Baby on Board sticker pulled up to the curb. That sticker worked better as subterfuge than anything else the League had previously implemented. No one looked twice as they drove by. The agents left the front door open to block us.
“Status,” the man asked, his bald head gleaming under the streetlights.
“Neck wound,” I said, getting out of the way. “Not Hel-Blar.” I couldn’t smell anything on her and more importantly, neither had Quinn.
I didn’t mention the sun tattoo.
I didn’t know who else to trust anymore.
The other agent pulled on hospital gloves before looking at the messy wound under the blood-soaked bandanna. “We need to hurry,” she said. They lifted her into the van and made a U-turn without another word.
I watched them drive away and didn’t move until Quinn’s wild laugh echoed from the woods, startling me out of my thoughts. I darted between the houses, back to the woods, and followed the sounds of fighting. I broke out of a thick clump of trees to the edge of the river, calculating escape routes and trajectory angles. Someone had to. Quinn had clearly never heard of procedure. He was fighting like he always did; all instinct and mayhem.
There were two Hel-Blar closing in, with a third on the crest of a hill behind him, the steady hum of the narrow waterfall masking his movements. He was the easiest to take out from my current position. A single arrow turned him into ashes. I only had two left, having wasted one shooting at Quinn. I also had half a dozen stakes, several daggers, and Hypnos secured in my cuff.
Quinn had led them into the river, the frigid water splashing around his knees. I knew why he did it: to cover the scents of battle so we wouldn’t attract any more undead visitors. I braced my back against a tree where I couldn’t be surprised from behind and lifted my crossbow, another arrow at the ready.
Quinn kicked a Hel-Blar so hard in the stomach she flew backward into the waterfall. The other clawed at him, saliva dripping from his sharpened fangs. The female scrambled back to her feet and I took aim but it was impossible to get a clear shot. Quinn and the other Hel-Blar were fighting too quickly and unpredictably. I’d have to get in closer.