Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
He lifts his hand and waves at me, wriggling his fingers just a little.
“Let us know when you’re ready for the distraction,” he says.
There is a plan, of sorts. The vampires are going to assault the city and draw fire. Then we are going to go in, get the truck. It’s a simple plan, which is good because that means it is hopefully simple enough to work.
“I’m ready to be distracted now,” I say. “Let’s do this.”
I am nervous. Sick to my stomach, actually. I have done a lot of sketchy, terrible things in my life, but I have never been a part of a full supernatural assault on a city. We are not the good guys in this story. When people talk about this in years to come, it will be the day that the city’s defenses were tested and overrun. Everybody inside those walls is going to hate us even more after tonight than they do already.
“Assemble!”
Alexander snaps the order loudly, and in an instant several hundred vampires are in clean straight lines worthy of a marching band. Watching his power in action is quite impressive and intimidating. He has been quite restrained with me, actually, all things considered.
“I know you are all hungry. I know you have slept in the desert dirt for days on end, just inches from the scorching sun. You have suffered in myriad ways, but they are all about to pay off now. Go and feed. Remove this city from the face of the planet. After this evening, this tedious little collection of humans will be nothing but bones bleaching in the sun.”
The vampires are enjoying this speech greatly. They expose their fangs and they make a general hissing sort of sound that sounds like the rattle of a thousand snakes. It is unnerving. There shouldn’t be this many vampires in one place. One is more than enough.
“Go, my children!” Alexander booms. “Show them the wages of disrespect!”
Watching a vampire army assault a city is a sight nothing short of terrifying. They move so inhumanly fast, skittering across the desert like a plague of human-ish things. Humans would take probably four minutes to run that distance. Shifters might make it in two. The vampires seem to do it almost instantly, moving so fast they are more like blurs than obviously distinct creatures.
I hope wherever Damon is, he has some sense that there’s a whole lot of fun going on right now. I also hope he’s very, very far away, tucked up in that infirmary in the little town with the nice doctor. I hope he has ice cream.
Light flashes in the distance, looking like a whole lot of little white bright sparklers are going off in celebration. Unfortunately, that is not what is happening.
The humans are trying to shoot the vampires, because humans love shooting things. Humans and projectiles go together like cotton and candy. The vampires are getting shot and largely ignoring the bullets.
They go up the city’s barricades like spiders go up a bedroom wall, crawling as if they are on hands and knees.
“Alright,” I say to Tailor and Conroy. “I’m going to go in there, get the truck, and handle the situation.”
“You’re not going anywhere. I am going to get it,” Conroy says. “You are going to stay here, safely with your vampire.”
“My vampire?” I almost refrain from kicking him. Almost. I kick him right in the fucking shin for having the absolute nerve to call Alexander mine. He’s my violator, my abductor, my lifelong abuser. He’s the evil I cannot escape, the arrow that buried deep in my flesh—and Conroy says he’s mine?
“Some reason you’re acting out like a little brat right now?” Conroy lifts a brow at me. He doesn’t seem overly affected, because he’s a big masculine lump.
“He’s not mine. And I’m not his. And fuck you for trying to sideline me here when I’m the only person capable of driving the truck like it needs to be driven.”
“It’s a truck, Kita. Anybody can drive it.”
“I know how it needs to be handled. It’s my truck. I am going to do this.”
Tailor nudges him. “Let her drive. We can run protection. Three are better than two. If you go in to drive, there’s a chance not only will you be hit, or I am hit, but she might come in. Let’s just get her to the truck and she can get out.”
Tailor’s argument is sound, and it saves Conroy arguing with me further. Instead, he pivots to barking cautionary orders at me.
“Keep your head down. Avoid the crossfire.”
“Oh, so don’t get shot in the face? Solid advice, Dad, thanks.”
I gasp as I am picked up off my feet. Conroy’s fists are in the front of my vest, holding me in place as his eyes bore into me with dominant fury.