3. Mabel

Chapter 3

The air outside the bar feels about a thousand degrees cooler, but that's probably only because of how my cheeks are burning. What the hell is wrong with me? Or with Creepy? She wasn't reacting to them like she does when we're around a predator. No, she reacted the way she does when we're around candy.

That only makes her think of man candy, and she nearly forces a giggle from my lips.

I grit my teeth, fighting it back. Gods, maybe I need to let her go play with the gators now, if only to let off steam. Wrestling with them is her fourth favorite activity, right behind killing bad guys, stalking bad guys, and celebrating both of those things with chocolate banana splits topped by gummy worms.

The thought of ice cream distracts her, but only for a few seconds. I get three steps away from the bar before she's just pelting me with images of slathering that ice cream on those guys and licking it right off them.

Which is so not helpful.

Dammit, I need to get out of here.

She doesn't like that, not one tiny bit, and she starts protesting inside of me like a little kid about to go nuclear in a temper tantrum because I didn't give her the toy she craved.

Grinding my teeth, I stride down the sidewalk as quickly as my legs can carry me. Parking tonight was a nightmare, so my car is three blocks away, but at the rate I'm going, I'll be there in only a few minutes flat.

"Hey there, sexy."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

It's not one of the guys from the bar. It's not even anybody I've seen tonight. No, it's just some dumbass in a dirty windbreaker and a Saints baseball cap who thinks my existence means he gets to hit on me.

Lovely.

I veer away from where he's leaning on the wall, avoiding eye contact and sure as hell not saying anything to him while I pick up speed. If he's smart, he'll back off.

If he's stupid, he might be Creepy's second dinner.

"Rude bitch," he mutters at my back.

Creepy snarls in my head. She's sure he's done something we can eat him for.

I tuck my chin and fight to maintain my walking speed. Gods, I shouldn't have come out tonight. I should've just stayed inside, ordered a fucking pizza, and let Creepy pick a movie. She always gets a kick out of the monsters in horror?—

Footsteps rush at me. I turn, but someone grabs me.

A biting pressure stings my neck like a bumblebee from hell.

Dizziness sweeps through me hard and fast. I twist to shove the person away, but they move too quickly, tripping me and pushing me at the same time, sending me toppling to one side.

My head clips the edge of a brick wall.

Red and black fireworks explode across my vision.

I'm yanked to the side. Everything is swirling. Pounding. Creepy is just as disoriented, banging around in my skull like a ballistic pinball searching for the way out.

Light glares up ahead. We're in an alley, and the glare is a blazing security lamp at the far end. No one is in sight, and thick metal doors plastered by ripped-up warning signs block access to the buildings on either side. Garbage reeks, making me gag. Or maybe that's the drug.

Because that was a needle that bit my neck, one with a sedative inside it. It's trying to take my legs from me, trying to drag me under the darkness with such force I want to puke from the effort of fighting it.

But here's the thing about Jekylls.

Our Hydes aren't the only ones people should fear.

A dark figure slams my back into the alley wall. "You thought you could kill one of us and we wouldn't track you down, bitch?" Saints Cap Guy glares at me, his arm pinning me to the brick. "You're going to wish you'd left us the fuck alone."

Oh, so he's another trader.

Good.

Twisted words from one of my favorite old tongues spills from my lips, amplifying what I'm about to do. Electricity tangles in my veins, and in my mind, Creepy starts to cackle.

Smoky mist rises around me, glowing as bright as the pink streaks in my hair. It reflects in the widening eyes of the trader and casts a savage neon-bubblegum light on his pockmarked skin.

I've always loved that color.

"Back off." My command sends him stumbling backward. He trips and falls to the ground. My legs aren't steady, and the drug is still fighting me hard, but while the world spins around me, I brace one hand on the wall and extend the other toward him. "Now d?—"

A gunshot cracks the air. Pain explodes through my thigh, shattering my concentration and sending me crashing to the ground. My hand grabs my leg on instinct, and blood squelches under my palm as my nerves scream.

Saints Cap Guy shoves away from the ground and stalks toward me, glaring down at where I lie on the filthy concrete. "You're going to pay for that, bitch. Wounded or not, plenty of people will pay top dollar to chop up a Jekyll and Hyde."

Oh, fuck that.

I let Creepy loose.