Lucky Break

I felt a pulse of magic from Damien as he stared them down. He was a wolf and ready to change, ready to play dog-versus-cat with these war-loving shifters.

But Niall’s crew had other ideas. At his signal, they raised their weapons.

“Bullets versus immortality,” he said. “Let’s see which wins.”

5

We opted not to be shot. With blurring speed, even as we heard the first explosions of bullets rushing through barrels, we moved back inside, sought safety behind the stone as shots pummeled the front door, ripping fist-sized holes in the wood and sprinkling bullets across the floor.

Ethan glared at Vincent, who stood across the room, shock clear on his face. But Ethan had no more patience for shock. “Is this what you’ve sowed over the course of a century here? Hatred and violence?”

“They’re shooting at us!”

“Because they were taught loathing and war,” Ethan’s voice wavered with fury. “Damn you all for poisoning these children.”

Vincent swallowed hard, the feud’s undeniable cost now shredding the door.

And then a new light began to flicker through the gaps in the wood, the narrow windows around it. I risked a glance, sucked in a breath.

The shifters hadn’t brought just guns—they’d brought torches, and they were lighting them in a daisy chain that moved from one shifter to another, creating a circle of fire. The shifters in feline form prowled around them impatiently, eager for action. One of them screamed, a high-pitched sound so much like a human’s cry it raised goose bumps on my arms.

“Jesus,” Vincent said, taking a step back.

“You want to kill our kind?” Niall called out. “But you’re too cowardly to face us? Fine. You can die as you deserve—by fire!”

“Jesus,” Astrid said. “They mean to burn us out.”

“And salt the earth afterward,” I said, glancing at Vincent. “Tell me there’s a back door here. A way out.”

Vincent stared at the shifting shadows on the floor, cast by the threatening firelight. “There’s—I can’t just let them take our home.”

“They aren’t here for shits and giggles,” Damien said, looking back at us. “There’s a time to fight and a time to retreat. This would be the latter.” He looked at Vincent. “How do we get out?”

Silence for a moment, and then, “The basement. There’s access to one of the mine shafts from the basement. We can follow it out and up.”

Astrid’s eyes were huge and dark. “You want us to travel through a mine shaft?”

“Have you got a better idea?” Vincent shot back.

“Our options aren’t many,” Ethan pointed out. Sentinel?

I’d rather fight, I admitted, then glanced through the window, watched shifters lay torches against the circle’s wooden exterior, waiting for the spark to take. But we’re outnumbered and outweaponed, and I don’t think the Marchands would be much help.

Agreed, Ethan said, exchanged a nod with Damien, and looked at Vincent. “Let’s go to ground and hope the earth lets us out again.”

***

Vincent called out the remaining vampires in the building, and we climbed single file down a narrow staircase to the basement. Vincent hurried to the back of the room. With Damien’s help, he pulled furniture and plywood away from the back wall.

“This is all my fault,” Nessa murmured, wrapping arms around herself. “This is all my fault.” She looked at Ethan. “I could turn myself in. Confess. Stop this.”

“Did you kill Taran?”

“No!” her answer was quick, sharp. “Of course not.”

“If you didn’t kill him, this isn’t your fault. Turning yourself in wouldn’t assuage their hatred; it would likely get you killed, and it would preclude the sheriff from finding the real killer. I cannot imagine the pain you’re going through, but do not waste emotion that should be spent on Taran”—he pointed toward the stairs—“on assholes like that.”

I’m mentally applauding you, I told him.

I’m glad someone is. This may get worse before it gets better.

I’d been a vampire long enough to know that was nearly inevitable. The feeling didn’t diminish when Damien and Vincent revealed a dark hole that sloped downward into darkness, a cannula into the bowels of the earth.

I didn’t care for the metaphor or the reality.

“Flashlight,” Astrid said, and I glanced over, took the flashlight she’d extended.

“Thanks,” I said, flicking it on and off to ensure it worked and I wouldn’t be stuck in the ground without light.

Damien peered into the hole. “You got a map?”

“Just memory,” Vincent said, a flush rising on his pale cheeks. “I was fascinated by mining when I was human and found—as a vampire—I enjoyed the peacefulness. I used to walk through them for the darkness, the quiet.”

Something large and heavy boomed above us, shaking the basement and sending a puff of smoke down through the stairwell.

“Let’s go,” Ethan said.

One by one, the beams of our flashlights bobbing in front of us, we moved into darkness.

The passageway was roughly square, beams pressed into the ceilings and walls at intervals to keep the tunnel—made variously of stone, packed earth, and loose rock—from caving in and burying us all. The air was cool and smelled of moist and metallic earth. It sloped gently downward and occasionally split off into other directions. It was just high enough to walk in, but we all had to duck to avoid striking our heads on the overhead beams.