Midnight Curse

Jesse was still lying on the ground, trying to get his breath back from when Frederic had kicked the air out of his lungs. Seeing that Jesse wasn’t going to be an immediate threat, the vampire turned toward Lee Harrison. “Don’t look in his eyes, man,” Jesse said in a groan. He actually wasn’t feeling that bad anymore, but Frederic didn’t need to know that. “He can mess with your mind.”

The vampire turned his head to glare at Jesse, who avoided his gaze. “Shut up, Mr. Cruz,” Frederic barked. “My employer has some questions, but if you open your mouth again I’m going to conveniently forget that he wanted to talk to you.”

Jesse went quiet. But Lee must have listened to the warning, because the next thing Jesse heard was a grunt of frustration from the vampire. He changed his grip on Lee, grabbing the old man by the head, but the biker president hauled off and hit him. Jesse winced. It was a damn good hit. Lee had probably broken his hand.

Frederic chuckled. Jesse couldn’t see Lee’s face, but the biker was cradling his hand, shaking his head in disbelief. “Look at me,” Frederic said in a voice so seductive that it probably made heterosexual women drop their pants on the spot.

Jesse began easing his body slowly toward his Glock, which had landed about six feet away on the sidewalk encircling the building. “Open your eyes!” Frederic said impatiently. Lee was putting up a fight. Good.

“All right, fine,” Frederic said in a bored, resigned voice. “Have it your way.” He grabbed Lee’s injured hand and squeezed hard enough to draw a cry of pain from Lee. The distraction caused the old man to forget all about his resolution not to meet Frederic’s eyes. “Yessss,” Frederic hissed. He was pressing the guy.

Jesse started moving faster.

“You will continue working for Oskar and me,” Frederic was saying. “You will not ask questions. You will not interfere with our plans. You will only obey.”

Lee nodded his head mechanically, and Jesse actually felt sorry for him. But Frederic would be done any second, so Jesse focused on flopping his body over the gun, wrapping his fingers around the cold steel.

“Good. Now, sit down on the ground until Oskar or I call you,” Frederic said, giving Lee a rough pat on the cheek. With that, the vampire turned around to face Jesse, immediately forgetting Lee’s existence. Faster than Jesse could even follow, Frederic hurtled through the air and kicked him in the face. Jesse felt his nose give way, and warm blood exploded across his face. A groan escaped his lips.

“Mr. Cruz,” Frederic said with a sigh, “I know you’re used to hanging out with Dashiell’s little whore, but I’m a vampire. Do you really think I can’t hear the sound of metal scraping on concrete?”

Fuck it. Jesse rolled onto his back, his shoulders braced against the ground, and raised the gun, putting two bullets in Frederic’s chest and one, the money shot, right through Frederic’s left eye.

But the vampire didn’t drop.

He swayed on his feet for a moment, a look of amusement crossing his face. “Congra’lations,” he said. The word was slurred, but his voice was still confident, even pleasant. “You pierced my fron’al lobe. But in jus’ a momen’ the bulle’ will come ou’. And I will scoop ou’ your en’rails.”

He took a determined step toward Jesse, who raised his gun toward the guy’s eyes again—and then had an idea. He stood up, got his shoulder in front of him, and charged the vampire like a billy goat, hitting him in the chest. He angled the blow to push Frederic closer to the building.

“Did you jus’ shove me?” the vampire said incredulously. “Wha’ do you poss’bly hope ’o—”

Jesse pushed him again. And again. Each time, Frederic stumbled back a few feet, looking more surprised and annoyed than actually hurt. The bullet holes on his chest had already nearly closed, and Jesse knew he had only a matter of seconds.

The fourth push did it. Frederic’s back hit the side of the building, and something changed on his face. He abruptly crumpled like an empty puppet. Jesse had spent enough time around Scarlett to recognize that look. He grinned. Just as he’d hoped, Scarlett had expanded her radius, and he’d pushed Frederic far enough to force him into it—while the bullet was still in his brain.

Jesse leaned over for a minute, hands on his knees, panting. He was out of shape, and exhausted, and his nose was still bleeding. He could hardly think through the pain in his nose and eyes, which were both already swelling.

A tremendous crash came from inside the building, and Jesse thought, Scarlett. He pulled a spare magazine out of his back pocket, reloaded, and ran into the building.

And right into an epic vampire fight.

That’s what it looked like, anyway. As Jesse entered the building, Molly and another vampire—this had to be Oskar—came flying over what looked like a regular McDonald’s counter, hitting and punching each other in the air, which Jesse had never seen outside of a martial arts film. He stood there openmouthed for a moment as they crashed into a large round table, upending it. Molly was tangled in chair legs, and Oskar saw his opening. He grabbed a chair and drove one leg through Molly’s exposed shoulder. While she was struggling to pull out the chair leg, he picked up another chair, taking the time to angle himself over her heart this time—

And Jesse shot him five times in the chest.

Five rounds from a .45 only made the vampire take two small steps backward and lean a hand on a nearby table, but it was enough for Molly to jerk the table leg out of her shoulder and pull herself to her feet. She sidled to the left, putting herself in between Jesse and Oskar, who was now glaring at him.

“Oskar,” she said, her voice pleading, “stopio, nid oes rhaid i chi wneud hyn.” Jesse didn’t even know what language that was. The other vampire only curled his lip in a snarl.

“Of course I have to,” he spat. “You killed him. He set you free, and you betrayed him.”

“He betrayed me first. He betrayed both of us,” she said, her voice heated.

Oskar straightened up. His wounds were healing quickly, and Jesse didn’t understand why she wasn’t finishing him off. “Step aside, Molly,” he said, raising the .45.

“No, don’t,” she said, turning sideways so she was holding up a hand to each of them.

Twenty feet behind Oskar, the side door opened. Jesse trained his gun, but it was only Scarlett. He sighed with relief.

“Jesse! You’re okay!” she cried, darting forward.

“Stop!” Molly screamed. Scarlett froze, seeing Oskar and his injuries for the first time.

“Molls, what the fuck,” she began, but the other woman shook her head.

“I don’t want you to make him human yet,” she said, tears in her voice. “He’ll die.”

Scarlett looked from Molly to Jesse, completely flabbergasted. Jesse was pretty sure his own expression reflected hers. “We want him to die, remember?” Scarlett reminded her. “He killed your friends. He’s trying to take down our whole way of life.” Oskar was smirking at her. “He’s the bad guy.”

“He’s my fiancé,” Molly said with a sob.

Chapter 45

I don’t think I’d ever really understood the phrase “knocked me over with a feather” until that moment. When Molly said the word fiancé, you probably could have walked up to me and blown on my hair a little, and I’d have collapsed.

“How—” I sputtered, at the same time Jesse said, “What?” in an equally bewildered tone.

Then a phrase popped into my mouth, and I spat it back out. “The midnight drain,” I blurted. “He’s the midnight drain. This happened to you twice?”

Molly nodded, her eyes never leaving Oskar. “We were just kids. Seventeen, and engaged. Alonzo let him live, but later . . . later . . .” she choked on the words, swallowed hard.

“When did you find out?” I asked. I don’t know why that was my first question, I really don’t. But part of me just couldn’t handle the thought that Molly might have lied to us this whole time about not knowing who was after her.

“The moment I saw him tonight,” she said in a soft voice. She was giving Oskar a complicated look, sadness mixed with longing and grief. “He looks just like the boy I knew. Before Alonzo twisted him.”