“For what? Saving your life?” He pried her fingers away from his wrist, his fingers warm and slightly rough against hers. “Sorry, but I have a creature to stop. Arrests will have to wait.”
He moved so swiftly that he almost seemed to blur. One blink and he was gone.
The night didn’t appear to be getting any saner, she thought sourly. First her partner had become a vampire, and then she was hunted by a kitelike monster, only to be rescued by a man who could blur his form and soar like the wind. Even shapechangers didn’t move that fast—did they? She didn’t really know, despite her years on the force.
Knowing she probably didn’t want an answer to that question, she slowly climbed to her feet. Pain fired up her right leg, and her ankle suddenly felt encased in iron. Great, just great. The night from hell and a busted ankle to boot. Maybe the best idea was just to sit here and wait for the cavalry to arrive. The thought made her frown, and she glanced at her wristcom. Four minutes had passed since she’d pressed the emergency beacon, and nine since she’d first requested help. Why wasn’t anyone here?
She glanced around for her weapon and saw it sitting in a puddle ten feet away. She hobbled to it, doing her best to ignore the protests from her ankle. As she bent down, that weird sliver of heat prickled a warning across her skin.
Jack was behind her. And this time, he felt wrong in a way she couldn’t even begin to explain.
Slowly, warily, she picked up her weapon and turned around. He stood ten feet away. Blood ran from the wound in his thigh, gleaming darkly against his rain-soaked jeans. Fear swept her again. On a night like this she shouldn’t even be able to see the blood.
She flicked off the auto safety catch and pointed the gun at him. “I have to take you back. You know I have to.”
He didn’t smile. Didn’t do much of anything, really. “Can’t. Kill if you want.”
She didn’t pull the trigger. Nor did she lower her weapon. “Why did you really call me here tonight?”
“To join.”
The sense of wrongness was growing. And why was he speaking like that? Like he’d suddenly lost all capability of speech? Surely it couldn’t be blood loss—if the wound in his leg was that bad, he wouldn’t have been standing on it, vampire or not.
“And that thing you were with. Did it kill the old man?”
He lowered his gaze, but not before she’d seen a brief flash of amusement. A chill ran down her spine. Jack had watched that thing strip the old man of his humanity. Had enjoyed it.
“Dreg. Didn’t matter.” His gaze flashed up again, cold and hungry. If there was any humanity left in her partner, it quickly fled as the vampire rose fully to the surface.
“Sorry,” he continued. “We were good.”
Were. Not are. She swallowed. It didn’t ease the aching dryness in her throat. “Don’t move, Jack. This time I’ll shoot to kill.”
His laugh was a low, almost inhuman sound. It wasn’t the laugh of the Jack she knew. It was the laugh of a stranger. “Wait for help to arrive?”
Sweat trickled down her back, and her palms felt slick against the cool metal of the gun. “That’s my plan, yes.”
“Not mine.” He flashed a familiar smile, all confidence and teeth.
Too many teeth, in fact.
The vampire was getting ready to feed.
“Don’t make me kill you,” she warned softly. Please don’t.
The sudden ferocity in his eyes made her take a step back. Even as she did so, he leaped.
Jack had once told her the best way to kill a vampire was to blow its fucking head off.
So that’s exactly what she did.