Killer Crescent by Leigh Kelsey

10

Iknew there were five other living, breathing people—well undead, breathing in the vampires’ cases—in these woods with me, but the dark and the quiet were so complete as I trekked through the underbrush, I swore I was alone. A crow cawed somewhere in the distance, making me flinch, but the only other sounds I heard were my own trampling footsteps crushing branches under my boots.

Were the Discard Society still lurking about in these woods? I kinda wanted to join them and go on a murder spree. Just think of all the pretty pictures I could carve in those people.

But … if I stayed in here, I wouldn’t get the reward Dean promised me. Or get to see where this new bond with Slasher went.

No, I had to spend the night in the woods and leave in the morning. The upside was I wouldn’t be sent to jail and shivved to death. I was a big fan of not being shivved to death.

“Bunny!” I gasped as a little brown rabbit crossed my path. A grin on my face, I crept after it, hoping there were ickle baby rabbits near its den. Would it let me pet them? I’d always wanted to pet a baby rabbit.

I skirted a huge wych elm tree and—where did the cute rabbit go? “Aw, that’s not fair,” I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest and shivering. It was getting cold, and the chill was cutting through my pink hoodie to rake its fingers across my chest. I should have worn a coat, or wheedled Dean out of his tweed jacket at least.

Thinking of Dean made my body heat, and I shivered harder, staring at the tangled trees around me. The darkness was so inky not even moonlight lit this part of the woods, but if I squinted, I could just make out the shapes of branches and leaves, and the roots stretching through the dirt beneath my boots.

A rough male cry echoed in the distance and I flinched, drawing two of my knives and pointing them at the darkness. Was that Vom becoming a midnight snack for nightmares? Dean had never said how many people came out of the woods versus how many died in here, but he wouldn’t have left me if there was a chance I could die. Right?

I pricked my ears for more shouts, and swore my ears were more sensitive, that wolf senses were kicking in. But the only thing I heard was wind rustling the trees and the low hum of insects. I shivered, wishing Dean had come into the woods with me, wishing he’d stayed to protect me. But when have I ever needed someone else to keep me safe? I shook my head to clear it and did not think about insects as I pulled my hood up against the cold and gripped my knives tighter, moving deeper into the woods.

“Rebel,” a quiet voice whispered near my ear, and I spun, slashing out at—

Nothing. There was nothing there.

My breath caught, and then came faster. There’d definitely been someone behind me, their voice so close to my ear. It sounded like … like Ana. But Ana was dead; I’d been there, paralysed, listening to every horrific moment of her murder.

“Hide, Rebel,” the voice said urgently, and I spun again, searching the darkness for her.

That was Ana. Was the woods full of ghosts? Is that what made people cry?

“Quickly, get under the bed, I’ll deal with Kyle.”

I started to shake, dim light bouncing off the edge of my knives as my hands trembled.

That was Ana, a voice I hadn’t heard in five years, and I froze between one step and the next, the woods eerily quiet around me. Hairs rose all down my body and I strained my ears, waiting for the voice again.

“Don’t argue, Rebel,” she hissed. “Hide. I’ll get rid of him.”

I spun, pointing my shaking knife at the darkness. There was nothing there, but something was fucking with my senses.

“Come out, come out, little monster,” I sang, ignoring the way my voice shook. “If you want to play, we can play.”

But no beast crawled out of the underbrush, and no evil monkey jumped down from the trees. Which was a shame; monkeys were fluffy and cute, and I’d always wanted one as a sidekick. The monkey could distract my target while I slid up behind them and eased my knife across their throat.

I dragged a deep breath into my lungs and exhaled through my mouth. I’d faced these nightmares before; I could do it again now. If this was what I had to endure to avoid going to jail, I could do it.

“Quickly,” Ana breathed again, her voice so close to my ear. I didn’t spin this time, straining my ears for the sounds of cracking branches of footsteps rustling leaves and grass. There was nothing. I scanned the tree trunks next, half expecting a huge snake with whirly hypnotic eyes to be hugging one of them, playing tricks on my mind. “That’s it, under the bed. I’ll take him into the bathroom, and as soon as the door’s shut, run to your room and lock the door, okay?”

I’d argued, had fought the whole time, knowing it was wrong, but Ana had been insistent and stubborn, and in the end the fear in her eyes had convinced me to crawl under the bed and hide while Kyle Ladislav stomped into the room and demanded to know why she was ignoring him. He’d been furious, worked into a rage by beer and hard spirits like usual, but it was worse since Ana had tried to break up with him the week before. He’d convinced her not to, and we’d still been stuck with him. I’d even tried to plead with Aunt Denise to make him leave us alone, but Kyle was a powerful witch from a powerful family. More important than Ana with her dregs of power and me with none.

I should have fought harder that day, should have figured out how to get my frozen limbs to crawl out from under the bed. Kyle had been my first kill, but I should have killed him then, not a year later when I’d finally worked up the nerve and the skills for it.

“Let’s go in the shower,” Ana said in the soft, calming voice she only used for him—because he was a bull likely to charge at any minute. He’d hit me before when I got in his way, even though I’d been thirteen. I knew that was why Ana told me to hide; she was trying to protect her little sister from a monster. But Kyle was more real a monster than anything that hid in my wardrobe.

The whimpering woods only echoed with my sister’s voice, but I could hear Kyle’s mean reply anyway, that whole day ingrained into my memory until I couldn’t forget even a millisecond. “I don’t want to fucking shower,” he’d snarled, and Ana had cried out as he threw her onto the bed. “Word got out that you tried to end things with me,” he’d said, the bed springs creaking above me as he climbed on. “The guys at the pub thought it was fucking hilarious. A pathetic witch like you trying to break things off with me.”

“I’m sorry.” Ana’s voice echoed through the trees, lifting the hair from the back of my neck as if she was really here. My breath caught and I pointed my knife at the darkness, wishing I’d defended myself more vehemently when Dean said I’d be punished for Paulson’s death. I should have thrown Slasher under the bus, even if he was my mate. A vampire would be better in this place of nightmares than me.

“You will be sorry,” Kyle had growled. “Making a laughingstock of me. Me! Do you know how many women would kill to be in your place, Anabelle?”

I froze, waiting for her fatal words. I knew what her response was now, even if I hadn’t understood then, had thought she was so stupid for arguing with him. This was the moment she snapped, fraying completely after months of abuse. I’d only seen the biggest, sharpest pieces of their relationship—the bruises, the shouts, the doors slamming, and his anger rebounding onto me. I hadn’t seen the insidious subtleties, the daily manipulations, the constant destruction of her self-esteem, her mental health being shot to hell. Now, I could see the hints I’d been too young and sheltered to pick up then. Now, I could look back and see the trail that led to this moment. But I still wished I’d done something—anything—to prevent it. Instead of my bones locking as I hid under their bed, fear making me an icicle.

“My name is Anarchy.”

Kyle had laughed; I could hear it in my skull even if the woods spared me the sound in my ears.

“My name,” she repeated harder, “is Anarchy. It’s what my mother called me; it’s my name. Not Anabelle.”

“Enough,” I said to the woods, sheathing my knives so my hands were free as I marched for the nearest tree. “Enough, I get the fucking picture.” I rocked back on my heels and then leapt, reaching up for the lowest branch, glad for the hours I’d spent working on my biceps in the gym as I hauled myself up. It still burned like hell, and I was out of breath by the time I flopped over the branch, but mission accomplished.

I allowed myself a single breath as Ana started to plead, trying futilely to calm her boyfriend down, and then I hauled myself up the next branch—and the next, and the next.

I didn’t look down or my head would have gone all wobbly with dizziness. I kept my eyes fixed upward, on the next branch, until I’d climbed high enough to see the whole spread of the woods. And still I could hear Ana’s voice, the ghost of her murder stalking me.

“Kyle,” Ana rasped. “Can’t—breathe.”

He’d been ranting by then, going on and on about how his mates had laughed at him, had joked he couldn’t even hold onto a dreg witch—a witch slur.

I shook my head hard, like I could dislodge the memory, the voices. “I get it, okay? That’s enough now.”

But it didn’t stop. My eyes burned as I gripped the rough bark, my pink fingernails biting into the tree hard enough to embed dirt under them, my chest cinched tight with pain.

“Kyle, please…”

I’d fucking laid there, frozen, staring emptily. I hadn’t even tried to get out from under the bed, hadn’t tried to fight him. My body had locked down, and I hated myself for it. Even with Kyle dead and six feet under a human waste facility where he belonged, that hate never left me.

“Stop,” Ana breathed, so faint it was barely audible. Her last word. It still rang in my ears most days, and it would for the rest of my life. Kyle had grunted in satisfaction that she’d finally shut up, and I’d screwed my eyes shut, the only movement my body would allow for long, long hours. I shuddered hard, breathing hard and fast at the memory. Rage built in my chest until I was itching to sink my knives into someone’s body, needing to pour all my fury and grief out through violence, the cycle of death and blood endless.

I’d been young, but old enough to know what the sound of his belt buckle rattling meant, and tears had leaked out of my closed eyes. I’d screamed at my body, desperate to move, to save her, to hurt him. Instead, my body had betrayed me, and held me perfectly still while he raped my dead sister.

I didn’t understand any of what I heard next, the rustling, the wet, gushy noises, and the huffs of exertion. It was only when I’d later crawl out from under the bed that I’d realise he’d cut her open.

And people wondered why I’d gone insane.

A bitter, broken laugh ripped from my lips now, and I pressed my head to the cold bark as it started to rain. I let the moisture drip down the back of my neck and soak through my hair, shaking at the memory rather than the chill.

I don’t know how long I stayed up in that tree, my breathing broken and twisted laughs jerking my chest, completely out of my control. I needed to steal back control, needed to beat the shit out of the whimpering woods for torturing me. Or find the creature responsible for these hauntings and stab it in the dick. Or tits. Or general face area—anything gushy and painful.

The thought gave me a modicum of comfort, and I dragged myself back together long enough to descend the tree, carefully putting my feet on branches until I was on steady ground again. I ran before the nightmares could catch up to me again, but they followed, whispering in the voices of my Aunt Denise, and Antonella, and a dozen uncles, cousins, and aunts.

A waste of witch blood...

Useless dud…

Pathetic bitch…

Unworthy, unwanted, unloved…

I let it all slide through one ear and out the other, storming through the trees with my knives back in my hands, the act of crunching branches under my boots cathartic. Maybe I really would carve up a tree; I had a feeling it’d restore some inner calm. People ought to market that as a mental health retreat—spend time in nature, let the great outdoors soothe you, cut the guts out of a tree.

Each insult hit deep in the fragile flesh of my heart, but it didn’t stop me trampling through the woods, furious enough to kill anyone who stepped across my path.

No killing the other Blake Hallies, I reminded myself. Dean would be pissy, and I’d probably be shipped off to prison. Not good.

Did you think we were going to live happily ever after?

I flinched hard at that one, my breath catching in my throat.

“You fucking arsehole,” I hissed at the woods as I stomped past, pausing to kick a tree trunk and swearing viciously when my toes crumpled and stabbed with pain. “Goddamn trees, I’m going to burn down every single one of you the second I find a box of matches.”

Why would I mate a dud?

“Because I’m brilliant and badass and, according to everyone I’ve slept with, actually quite pretty for a psycho,” I shot back, wishing I could punch Edison’s face. Now that would be extra cathartic. But I’d slashed him yesterday; I thought of that and smiled, ignoring the twinge in my chest. It went against my instincts to hurt my mate, but he’d hurt me first. Now we were almost even. Almost, because I still hadn’t cut his dick off.

I don’t want you. Why would I? I’m the most powerful heir to the Bray line.

“Most dickish heir to the Bray line,” I muttered, but rubbed at the aching spot on my chest as I trudged on, my shoulders caving inward. It was too much—Edison’s rejection, my family’s loathing, and Ana’s death. It was too much, and I was going to snap.

My breathing ruptured and split into painful shards, each one cutting up my lungs, my heart, but I kept walking because moving was better than standing still. I’d frozen once; I couldn’t do it again. Wouldn’t let myself stop.

I was a self-trained kickass killer—

And a grade A fucking idiot! I gasped at the click beneath my boot and screamed as air whooshed down from above. A crude cage of sharpened planks of wood swung down too fast for me to avoid, the tips of every single one sharp enough to rip my body apart. I should know; I was an expert on carving up bodies. My breath caught in my chest as I lurched away from the spikes, too slow, too fucking slow—

A solid weight slammed into my side and knocked me aside so fast that the world blurred and my scream roared. I flew, or that was how it felt, and the cage thudded into the ground, the sharp stakes sinking deep into the dirt. I could have been pulp and broken bones. Would have been if I hadn’t flown.

How…?

I swayed, my stomach twisting unpleasantly until I bent at the waist and vomited on the grass, bile burning my throat. “Ugh,” I rasped, wiping my mouth on my hoodie sleeve and watching the trees swirl and dance around me.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, tiramisu, you’re okay.”

I laughed, relief hitting me so hard I wobbled.¹ “Slasher,” I breathed, letting him pull me against his body as dizziness raged through me. “You saved me.”

He held me tighter, a vicious hiss leaving his throat as he nuzzled the top of my head. “You almost died, my beautiful Pringle.”

I sagged against his wiry-strong body, a smile on my face as the world stopped spinning around me. I’d always wondered what travelling at vampire speed felt like, and now I knew: like fairground teacups, a crazy rollercoaster, and a tumble dryer all rolled into one nauseating experience. I felt alarmingly like a hamster thrown into one of those candy-coloured exercise balls.

“What the hell are the advisors playing at?” I growled, winding my arms around Slasher’s waist and snuggling, letting his bristling violence soothe me. “Putting murder cages like that in the woods?”

“Good question,” my vampire mate hissed, hugging me even tighter. “I’m going to find whoever put that trap there and rip them into a million bloody pieces.”

I swooned. “I’ll help you.”

I swore Slasher swooned too; he let out a dreamy sigh that fanned the small hairs near my scalp. “Are you all right, bubblegum?” He pulled back, scanning me with intense red eyes. I could barely see him in the darkness, but there was enough moonlight to see the vicious worry cutting his sculpted face, making his mania even more manic.

I rolled onto my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips, smiling when he kissed me back so fiercely his fangs nipped my bottom lip. His tongue swept over the stinging hurt and he groaned deeply, his hands dropping to my ass and squeezing.

“Don’t think you’re getting more than kisses,” I warned him, gasping between vicious presses of his lips to mine. “There are things in these woods.”

“I’ll kill every single creature that hunts you,” he swore, his fangs bared and his eyes glowing a deep red. He looked so deadly and vampiric that I grinned and cupped his face, tracing his devastating bone structure—his deep brows, his cutting cheeks, his straight nose, his firm jaw.

“I know you will,” I replied, darting forward to run my tongue along the sharp edge of his fang. He groaned, slamming his hips into mine and grinding tight. “But I meant it’s full of insects.” I didn’t have to fake my shudder.

“I’ll kill all those, too,” he promised, trembling under my touch. “I’m so hungry, Jelly Baby.”

Butterflies burst to life in my belly. “I like that name.”

“I like you,” he replied, ducking his head to lick my throat. “And how you smell. I bet I’d like how you taste, too.”

“Bite me,” I breathed, sliding my fingers into his long, black hair. “But don’t take much; I need to be strong enough to last in these woods until morning.”

“I’ll protect you,” he purred, his voice low and hypnotic now, his tongue flat to my pulse. “And so will your stalker.”

I reared back, my eyes flying wide and alarm bright in my chest. “What do you mean, my stalker?”

“I’m not the only man watching you in these woods,” Slasher murmured, sliding his body back along mine and sucking a particularly amazing spot on my neck. My fingers clutched his hair hard and I groaned. “There’s a wolf, too. Big and strong and broody.”

Was … was Dean watching over me? My eyes stung.

“Please can I bite you now, my delicious Nutella?”

I laughed at this name, but that was flattering as hell. Nutella was the best and tastiest food mankind had ever invented. “You can bite me, vampy.”

He didn’t hesitate, and I gasped as sharp fangs sank into my throat, twin throbs of pain punching through me before turning to a low, simmering burn. The sinful moan Slasher let out against my neck was so hot that I endured the burn, gripping his dark hair tight as he took long, hard pulls of my blood.

I’d just started to go floaty and dazed when a loud scream echoed in the distance, and Slasher’s head snapped up with a deadly hiss. He held me tight to his body, his upper lips curled back from his fangs, the sharp points dripping my blood. He looked ready to make good on his promise to kill everything in these woods.

“That’s … twice I’ve heard someone … scream,” I slurred, nuzzling my face against his shoulder and taking his sharp, spicy scent into my lungs.

“You’re not staying in these woods,” Slasher snarled. “Someone’s hunting you all.”

I batted his back in a weak slap. “If I leave before sunrise, I’ll get kicked out of Blake Hall.”

Slasher’s hiss was louder this time, and so fierce that a shiver tripped down my spine. My pussy dripped, a completely inappropriate reaction. But when had I ever cared about silly things like being appropriate? “Fuck,” he spat, his hand splaying across my back.

The same scream from before ripped the air, and I startled, the shock clearing some of the pleasant daze from Slasher’s bite when the sound cut off abruptly. Silence rang around us. I stared into the darkness, wishing I had vampire vision but glad I had my own personal guide vampire ²with me.

“I’ll be fine,” I breathed. “I’ve got six knives, and my scary, crazy vampire to keep me safe.”

“Aww,” he breathed, his eyes so big and full of love as he gazed down at me, his sharp-nailed fingers cupping my cheek. “You think I’m scary?”

“The scariest,” I promised, leaning onto my tiptoes for more kisses. Yeah, people were screaming around us and probably getting killed by deadly cages—or worse—but it was still the perfect moment for a hard make-out session.

I gasped as air whipped past me and my back slammed into a tree trunk, Slasher’s cool lips demanding on mine. His tongue forced mine into submission in the most delicious way. My toes curled in my boots and I rubbed against him like a kitty, sending a shivery sensation through my nipples.

“My french fry,” he snarled against my lips, diving back in for another forceful kiss that made my stomach flutter with delighted butterfly wings. “Mine.” He sucked my bottom lip, teasing me with the sharp point of his fang. “Mine.” His lips caught my tongue and suctioned hard, sending a shudder down my spine and my hands clutching him more insistently. “All mineminemine.”

I grinned, my heart melty and soft at his obsessive claiming. It felt damn good to be wanted after hearing my family’s—and Edison’s—constant, ruthless rejection. So I dug my fingernails into the back of Slasher’s neck and kissed him back every bit as hard.

He’d saved me from the trap that would have crushed my body and savagely ended my life, and I didn’t let myself think about the men’s screams and shouts of terror, didn’t let myself think about how close I’d come to meeting the same gruesome end.