Generation 18 (Spook Squad 2)
Orrin reached the bottom step and stopped. Though she couldn’t see his smile, she could feel it.
“Nowhere to run here, little girl. Just one big room with only the two exits.”
Her back hit the wall. She edged along to the right. “You can’t cover both of them at the same time, Orrin.”
“I don’t need to. I move fast—faster even than you.”
“You can’t know that.” Though she had a suspicion that he could. After all, if it was possible for her to taste evil, why couldn’t it be possible for him to know instinctively what she could and couldn’t do?
But if that were t
he case, why wasn’t he saying anything about the power of the storm?
Her foot hit something and metal scraped harshly across the concrete. Orrin laughed.
“You think that little metal pick is going to hurt me?”
Shoved deep in some unlikely orifice, yes, it probably would. She quickly picked it up. Orrin’s so-called pick was a good three feet long and as heavy as sin. It should make a rather nice dent, even in a head as thick as Orrin’s. If she dared get that close.
He stepped toward her. Heat crawled over her skin, whispering secrets. Orrin was, as he’d said, kin to the vampires, but one who could walk through the day without fear. A dhampire, one who drank blood not out of necessity, but purely for enjoyment.
She hefted the metal rod, holding it in front of her like a staff. Why hadn’t she sensed Orrin’s true nature earlier? Was it because the daylight hid his vampire half, or was it more a case of these new abilities coming into focus because of the storm’s power?
“Why not simply turn yourself in, Orrin? At the moment, you’re guilty of little more than being an accessory. A few years, max, in prison. Piss easy for a man like you.”
“And Hopeworth? You think I don’t know they’ll swoop in and get me?”
“You have a real fixation with Hopeworth, haven’t you?” She balanced lightly on her toes, ready to run given the slightest hint of movement from Orrin.
“You’re one of us. You should know what it’s like, being poked and prodded and examined endlessly. I won’t go back to it. I can’t.”
She frowned. He seemed to have awfully clear memories of something that happened when he was a baby. “That was a long time ago, Orrin.”
“Twenty years,” he agreed. “I was nearly ten when they dumped me. But I remember. And I will have revenge.”
Not if she could help it. Not that she wanted to protect Hopeworth—far from it. Everything she’d learned over the past few days had only convinced her that they deserved everything Orrin had planned, and a whole lot more.
No. The problem was Orrin himself. His desire to kill was so strong she could almost taste it. He planned to play with her, planned to drink her blood until he drained her dry. Then he planned to do the same to Gabriel.
To stop him, she’d have to kill him. If she could.
He rushed at her, a gale force she felt rather than saw. She danced away and swung the bar with all her might. It connected against flesh with a sickening crack. The force of the blow shuddered up her arm and momentarily numbed her fingers.
He laughed. Laughed. He was as mad as Rose.
She backed away, gripping the bar hard, her gaze locked on his evil stain.
“You’re good, little girl. Not many can match me for speed.”
Gabriel could. No doubt Stephan could as well. She hoped like hell he was listening in—no, make that running to the rescue. It had been nothing short of madness to ever think she could play this game with Orrin. The giant was too fast, too strong.
“As you said, we have something in common. Give it up, Orrin, while you still can.”
“You’re all talk, little girl. And if you’re waiting for those others to come to the rescue, I have to tell you, five is not enough.”
Fear slivered through her. “What are you talking about?”
He chortled. “Those five heartbeats that draw close. I sensed them ages ago, though I have to admit I didn’t feel you until you were really close.”