2. Luna

Chapter 2

Luna

I am still staring at the tongue on the floor when the bell above the door jingles and a rush of cold air sweeps into the room. The papers on the desk flutter. But only a little. They are weighed down by the box and the blood.

I look up in a panic and reach for the box.

But the person in the doorway isn't moving. They are stock still, wearing a large grey hoodie, a black leather jacket, and torn jeans. I look at their feet. They are bare. Red toenails.

Bare feet?

Bare feet.

Shit. It's freezing outside, so the only reason someone would be wandering around with no shoes on is if they can't feel the cold.

And there's only one type of creature who can't feel the extremes of hot and cold the way humans do.

I move quickly to the other side of the desk, shielding the box from view.

I'm staring at a vampire. I have a box full of bloody body parts in my shop, and a tongue lying on the floor, and a vampire is standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry, we're about to close."

I should have locked the goddamn door.

"I'm not here for the books," says a raspy female voice that sounds like it should smell of cigarettes.

The box. It's the fucking box. The smell of the blood brought her here.

She is breathing heavily. I can see her chest rising and falling. She tilts her head. The motion is jerky and not quite natural. I try to look into the shadows of her face and catch sight of her features, but there is nothing there.

Until… a flash of red.

She pushes her hood away from her face.

Her eyes are sparkling with small red dots.

Again, the lights overhead flicker, and I feel like the ice in my veins is melting, slowing down, turning to sludge.

I try to move but my feet are planted flat on the floor and my legs are not cooperating.

Shadows shift and swell in the corners of my vision as if I'm dangerously close to passing out.

The way they did in the accident.

Fear crawls down my limbs. Sharp fingernails of dread, clawing the underside of my skin and making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

She is a vampire.

The way she moves, the red freckles in her eyes. She looks like an apex predator assessing her prey.

When she does open her mouth, I know for sure. Her bright white fangs catch the light. At first, I'm transfixed. But then my fascination morphs back into fear.

I look at the door. I'll never make it.

I look back at the vampire.

I have never seen one like her before. Despite all the talk and the whispers. Despite them being out in the open in so many other parts of the world. Here, in Cambridge, we like to pretend we don't have the bad kind of supers; only the ones who hold respectable jobs and integrate nicely into human society.

Even then, their different nature is barely acknowledged or talked about.

We have been taught to recognize them, but we like to believe our vampires are more civilized than all the others.

Except they're not; they're just sneakier.

And this vampire – the one standing in front of me right now – she is not the civilized kind. She has blood lust in her eyes.

By her sides, her fingers twitch. They are splayed wide as if she is preparing for a fight.

"What's in the box, little girl?" she asks, taking a long, deep breath and licking her lips.

The box. Of course, she's here because of the box.

I should give it to her. Hand it over. Let her devour the parts of Steven I never want to see again. But something inside me feels indignant. They were a gift. To me. I finally own a piece of him, and I don't want to let it go. Not so soon.

Even though a vampire eating what's left of him would solve the issue of whether or not to tell the police.

She takes a step forward. Then the door jingles again. Another figure appears, and another, then a fourth.

They stand in line, predators waiting to circle their prey.

I reach for the box and toss it to the floor in front of them. I might want to own Steven, but I want to keep living, too. I'm not going to sacrifice myself for the want of feeling as if I've got one over on him.

The first vamp looks down at the box, then lets out a long dry laugh. "You think that's what we want?"

"Isn't it?" My voice comes out thready and frail, like it might crack completely and turn to dust.

"Not now we've seen what else is on offer." The one nearest the door speaks. He is wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, not even close to enough clothing for how cold it is outside, and now draws closer to me.

My eyes move around the room. I have nothing to protect myself with. No crucifixes, or silver, or stakes, or garlic.

Not that garlic is a real thing. It's a myth.

Perhaps the rest are, too.

"I'm not sure I'm as tasty as you think." I tip my chin up and try to speak over the vicious pounding of my heart against my ribs. "I take pain meds. My blood will be bitter." I wrinkle my nose. "I'm sure you've had far better."

The man, who is now only a few feet away from me, blinks a few times then claps his hands. "Poor, sweet, human," he says. "You just made yourself an even tastier treat. Skin like yours… so fragile, so ready to be broken. And drug-laced blood. What could be better?" He looks back at the vampires behind him. The one in the hoodie strides forward and elbows him out of the way.

She is on me before I even realize what is happening.

She has my arm. Her fingers tighten like a vice around my wrist.

"If every human in this city is as naive as you," she says, "we are going to have our fill now the queen is gone and we've got a real boss in charge. One who understands the value of asserting our dominance on the pathetic, weak, blood-sacks of this city."

"Queen?" I murmur.

She grins at me, licking her fangs. "Would you like me to start here…" She presses a finger to my wrist. "Or here?" She trails it up my arm to my neck, to where my pulse is growing faster by the second.

I cannot speak.

I cannot move.

The lights flicker. The shadows groan. I'm going to pass out. I'm going to feint and she's going to devour me, and I'll never find out what really happened to Steven. I'll never have truly mind-blowing sex, or swim naked in the river under the moon and stars, or?—

She brings my wrist to her lips and bites down. Hard. Pain ricochets down my arm, sweeping every other sensation from my body.

I cannot fight her.

I'm going to die.

The other vamps are closing in, like those vicious grey dinosaurs from Jurassic Park who hunt in packs, when the door clatters back on its hinges.

The sound swallows the tingle of the bell. The entire building seems to shake.

The vampire holding me spins around, pulling me against her so my back is pressed to her chest, and wraps one arm tight around my neck.

She hisses, baring her fangs, staring at the door.

There is a blur of movement.

In a fraction of a second, she is on the floor, neck snapped, blank eyes staring up at the ceiling.

The other three vampires try to run, but the blur of movement engulfs them too.

The first one, the male who taunted me, doesn't even have time to scream before his head is wrenched from his body. It falls to the ground with a sickening thud, his lifeless eyes still wide with shock.

The two remaining vampires turn to face their attacker. They bare their fangs, hissing and snarling like cornered animals. But there is no one there.

Until…

I stagger backward. I tread on Steven's tongue. The feel of it beneath the sole of my shoe makes me jerk sideways, heart pounding.

In the center of the room, a vampire I've seen twice before flexes his fingers and bares his fangs.

Thornfield.

Professor Lucien Thornfield.

When did he come to the shop? A couple of months ago?

Once when I was with Steven, then again looking for some obscure text on shifters.

Bear shifters.

Was he this good looking then?

Tilting his head from side to side, he shrugs off his dark brown suit jacket to reveal muscular shoulders encased in a crisp white shirt. He's wearing braces, black with silver buckles, and runs his thumb under one of them as he assesses the two remaining vampires.

If he was this hot before, I didn't notice. I mean, I noticed he was kind of smolder-y. But not turn-a-girl-on-when-she's-fighting-for-her-life levels of smolder.

It's the shoulders.

And the braces.

Fuck, Luna. Get a grip.

"Thornfield…" One of the vamps mutters. She glances at the other.

Thornfield holds up a hand to silence them, then turns to me. "Luna, are you all right?"

I nod at him. The sound of my name on his lips makes my mouth go dry.

"You're quite sure?"

I nod again.

He narrows his eyes, clocks the blood on my hands, the box on the counter, the tongue on the floor. Then turns back to my assailants.

"Did you hear about what happened to the queen?" Thornfield growls, inching closer to them.

The vamps furtively look at the door as if they're assessing whether they can make it out before he catches them.

Deciding they can't, the female says, "We heard."

"Tell me." He rolls up his sleeves, reaches into his pocket, and takes out a cigar.

Panic blooms in my stomach.

He lights it and draws it to his lips.

I clear my throat.

Thornfield turns his gaze on me and quirks an eyebrow. Amusement and irritation dart across his face.

"The books," I hiss, gesturing to the cigar. "The smoke…"

There is a pause. Then, slowly, Thornfield uses the palm of his hand to put out the cigar. It sizzles as it meets his flesh, but when he drops it to the floor and uncurls his fingers, his skin is already sewing itself back together.

"You were saying?" he asks the quivering vampires.

"You killed her," says one.

"Ate her heart," mutters the other.

I wrap my arms around my waist. He ate someone's heart?

"Why did I do that?" Thornfield folds his arms. His muscles twitch.

"To prove you're the boss," the muttering one says.

"To prove I'm the boss." Thornfield starts to smile. "Exactly."

"Except…" The female tries to answer him. There's a flash of defiance in her eyes. But then there is another blur of movement and a stomach-churning crack.

I slam my eyes closed.

When I open them, both of the remaining vampires lie on the floor. The sides of their skulls are caved in. Did he smash their heads together?

Thornfield towers over them, then crouches down.

They are still alive, their eyes twitching strangely in their concave faces.

He taps one on the forehead then takes hold of their chin and makes them look at me. "Apologize to the lady," he says.

A slurred, unintelligible sound chokes past their lips.

With just a click of his fingers, he makes the other vampire do the same.

Then he stands, takes a handkerchief from his pocket, and uses it to wipe his hands.

"You are quite sure you're alright?" he asks, his voice dripping down my skin like smooth, shining obsidian.

I nod mutely, my heart still racing. I glance at the bodies littering the floor.

Thornfield steps closer, his movements cautious now, as if trying not to startle me further.

One of the vamps on the floor moans and starts dragging their limp carcass toward the door. They are inches away from Thornfield. He steps on their hand. They moan again, and the crunching sound makes me wince.

"We need to go." Thornfield fixes his gaze on mine. "There may be more of them coming."

He extends a hand toward me. I hesitate for a moment, my mind reeling.

"Why would there be more?"

He places a large, strangely warm hand on my forearm. He narrows his eyes at me. "Lately, there are always more."

Once again, Thornfield offers me his hand.

"We will discuss this more when we are somewhere safe."

"Safe?"

Thornfield trails his fingers up my arms, leaving sparks of heat in their wake.

"I will always protect you, Luna."

My eyes dart to the wooden box on the counter as realization washes over me.

"You killed Steven…"

He hesitates for a fraction of a second then nods almost imperceptibly. "I taught him a lesson."

"You mailed him to me in a box!"

"Not all of him."

I pull back, step away, putting space between us. I haven't thought about my pain since the box arrived. But suddenly, my limbs start to ache.

I rub my forearms.

I look at the box, then the door.

Thornfield tilts his head as if he's heard something, and when he turns back to me his eyes are dark inky pools, swimming with urgency.

"We have to go now, Luna."

I stare at him, shaking.

I have a choice. Refuse to go with him, and wait for more vampires to descend, or take his hand.

Wait for death?

Or trust a guy who tore my ex-boyfriend apart to protect me?

I'm still trying to decide when Lucien Thornfield grabs me by the waist and tosses me over his shoulder. "I said, time to go," he growls.