I scrambled around him—I had to get away from the ledge—and this time he let me. But he was always just there, at my shoulder, chanting, “Here, pretty pretty.”
His voice was changing. Intensifying. He was growing bored, or thirsty.
I had to do something. He’d act soon, and I’d need to beat him to it. I stopped short, whirled, and lunged for him, slamming my arm up, until my stake met flesh. The impact reverberated up my arm.
He screamed and flew backward. I’d pierced him, but it was lower than his heart. His eyes locked with mine as he pulled the stake from his body and tossed it over the cliff. He smiled at me, and it was chilling.
“Pretty pretty likes to fight,” he said, and his voice was unexpectedly sultry.
It was the most disturbing thing I’d ever heard. I gritted my teeth, mustering bravado. “Don’t think you can creep me out.”
He frowned at that. “A creep, am I?”
Disgust shriveled his features, and he lunged at me. It was too fast. I didn’t have a chance to pull my other stake all the way out. He held me, held my skull crushed between his hands. I fumbled, squirming and fighting against it, but he wrenched it back, exposing my neck.
He held my head, but he didn’t have my hands. I clawed at his face. Tore off his glasses.
He hissed again, shoving me away, flinching from the daylight. His eyes were pale and red. He squinted at me, staring, raging. No longer did he resemble a predator toying with his meal—he was all fury and retribution and malice.
I stumbled backward, screaming.
He opened his mouth to hiss, and kept his mouth hanging open. Other vampires hid their fangs, or at least tried to create the illusion of humanity. Not this one. This one kept his mouth open, hissing and hissing like a rabid animal.
I’d scratched a deep welt on his cheek, and reddish black blood oozed down. He stretched out his tongue, slowly licking his own blood, and it was obscene, almost sexual. I shuddered, watching as his skin healed, slowly knitting together before my eyes.
I pulled out my other stake, but he flew at me, swatting my hand, sending the bit of wood flying over the ledge. I fell from the impact and scuttled backward.
My stakes were gone, but I still had my stars. I had to hope they’d be good enough. He watched, avid curiosity on his face, as I plucked them from my boot. Seeing the steel stars in my hand, he laughed.
He wore the strangest cockeyed grin as he began to prowl toward me.
I threw a star. And another. And the third. Two hit; none did any damage.
His grin turned dark. He looked hungry, stalking toward me like an eager lover. “What other treasures do you hide, sweet pretty?”
I backed up, screamed. He backed me against the ledge. I hated how I screamed. But this was it. I had nowhere else to go. The end. My screams filled my head.
The vampire bent down to me. Cold, bony fingers threaded through my hair, so gently. But then he pulled, yanking me to standing. I yelped with the shocking pain of it.
“They all scream,” he said angrily. He wrenched my neck back, locking his eyes with mine, and I was instantly lost. “Silence,” he whispered, and the words came to me as though through a tunnel. Those pale red irises became my gravity, sucking me toward him, in and down. “Yes,” he cooed, sounding so pleased. “Yessss.”
I shut my eyes, waiting for it. Waiting to die.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
A shout cleared my head. A “No” growled so fiercely, it pierced my consciousness. “No,” bellowed in a voice deep enough to reverberate through me. Shaking me.
Carden.
I exploded to life, wriggling and scratching and fighting. This thing wouldn’t kill me. Not today.
“No,” Carden shouted again.
I watched as fingers appeared around the rogue vampire’s neck. I watched Carden, and his fury had altered his face to some other thing, some powerful, savage force I hadn’t seen before. He grabbed harder, and harder still, until his fingertips disappeared into the vampire’s flesh. He grasped the rogue’s neck and lifted him off the ground. Flung him away.
The vampire landed hard and bounced, but then he was up again, swooshing right back to Carden, swinging at him.
But Carden had seen it coming, and as he ducked, he reached back and swung. His arm arced wide, his fist slamming into the vampire. The creature flew backward, off the cliff.
I clung to the ledge not to fall. “How did—” I began breathlessly, but Carden jumped after the rogue, disappearing before I could sputter a thought.
I skittered down the hill after him, gathering up a stake and a star as I went. I didn’t have time to find the other weapons.
I slid down, and something punched me from the side as I landed. The world went black for a moment. I came to and found myself restrained. The rogue held me. I flailed, struggled, and kicked, but those hands only clawed more tightly into me.
“This one is mine,” the thing said to Carden.
I heard Carden’s approach, footfalls in the sand. But this time the creature was ready, and he hauled his arm back and punched Carden, sending him flying.
The vampire curled over me, hugging me. “Time to die, pretty. Are you ready?” His whole body enveloped mine.
I was unable to move. I felt his breath on my neck. I forced my eyes to look away.
Where was Carden? I was frantic to find him. I’d see Carden as I died—I’d have Carden be the last sight I saw.
And I found him—he was running back toward us. Running back for more.
Carden, who’d somehow gotten free of his dungeon. Carden, who could’ve left me—he could’ve fled the island—but we were in this together, and he was running toward me.
Time slowed. He ran at us, his focus only on the vampire.
But then I had an idea, and the moment the thought came to me, his eyes flashed to mine.
The stake.
I still held a stake in my hand. I reached my arm back to toss it in the same instant Carden opened his hands to catch. It was as though we were one being, having the same thought at the same time.
I threw. Carden caught. And he staked the vampire.
The creature released me, shrieking a cry so piercing, I had to clap my hands over my ears. I stumbled backward as he turned black, shriveling and sizzling before my eyes, howling and screaming.
And then he was dust.
My knees gave way, but Carden was there, and suddenly I was in his arms. He carried me to the water’s edge and gently put me down. I saw I was covered in gore and leaned over to splash my hands, my face. But I was shaking too badly.
Carden stilled me. “Hush,” he said, cupping water and sloughing the blood from my arms. He worked down to my hands, tenderly rubbing circles over them until I was clean.
When I stood, his eyes were on me, bleak and relieved both.
“I heard you,” he said. “I heard your screams as though they were in my own head.”
I fell into him, crumpling into his arms. “Did they let you out? I don’t understand.”
I looked up at him, and finally I registered his injuries, huge bands scored into his wrists, deep scrapes along his hands. I gently took one of those hands in mine. The wounds were healing quickly, but I saw how deep they’d been. How bloody. I gently rubbed away the flaking blood to reveal fresh skin, looking so angry and red beneath. “What did you do?”
“A man can do much when driven.” He took my face in his hands. “There is no chain that can keep me from you.”
He’d known I was in trouble. He’d come for me.
Carden had told me of his Druid ancestry, but it was then I saw firsthand how my Scottish vampire had abilities and powers that made him a threat to Alcántara.
“Come, sweet. We must go back.”
“Will this”—I nodded to the pile of ash—“will he be enough to clear your name?”
“Aye, more than enough.”
I gave him a weak smile. “Ding-dong, the witch is dead?”
He wrapped an easy arm around my shoulders. “As you say, you peculiar, wee thing.”
I looked at the pile of blackened dust and grew serious. “How will we prove there even was a rogue vampire? How will they know we’re not lying?”
He bent and picked up the vampire’s sunglasses. “These.”
“This is our proof?” I took them from him, studying them.
“This vampire was too old to go out in daylight. The Directorate will see these and know the meaning. Perhaps they’ll even recognize them. Either way, they’ll guess he was here, if they didn’t know already.”
“They must’ve known,” I said. “Somebody did. That guy was way too clean to be completely rogue.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He took the glasses back and pocketed them.
As we walked back to campus, I mused, “Why don’t more vampires wear sunglasses? Seems like a clever way to get around light sensitivity.”
“Simple. One cannot hypnotize one’s prey when one’s eyes are concealed.”
“Oh.” I gazed up at him, staring at his profile, trying to make sense of it all. My thoughts drifted to Ronan, who’d used his own hypnotic powers to get me onto this island. “Did you ever want to hypnotize me? Did you ever try?”
He stopped short, looking amused by the notion. “Now, where’s the pleasure in that?” He cupped my cheek, and his next words were spoken low and husky, bringing all sorts of sexy implications to mind. “Seems I’ve been able to convince you to do things without resorting to trickery.”
I cleared my throat, feeling a blush rise to my face. “Seems so.”
We returned to campus and blamed the deaths on the vampire. All the deaths, even Masha’s, and it was just as well. I was a lousy liar, and a half-truth would be easier to maintain than pretending I hadn’t seen her.
Nobody questioned how Carden had known so many girls were under attack, how he’d sensed he was needed enough to break free and act as rescuer. The vampires weren’t surprised, and it wasn’t because they’d detected our bond. There was something about Carden that made him more powerful than the others, and powerful was dangerous.