Witches Get Stitches by Juliette Cross
Chapter 25
~NICO~
I was goingto kill that motherfucker.
He was half a block ahead of Mateo, who was only a few yards ahead of me now, my wolf pushing to the surface, urging me to catch my prey and fuck him up beyond recognition.
Even so, I hadn’t fully shifted, and I’d managed to keep my cool long enough to check on Violet. When my wolf had wanted to rip through my skin, I’d somehow quelled the beast long enough to ensure she was alright before joining the chase, keeping him calm enough to think straight. Barely.
A car pulled out from a side street as Shane crossed, leaping up and running over the hood, not losing stride. The owner of the car stared as the three of us maneuvered into the street itself, right behind Shane, so we could avoid sidewalk traffic and pick up speed. He was headed for the French Quarter, and we had to get him before he melded with the Mardi Gras tourist crowd. He’d definitely get lost in that sea of madness.
While rage scraped against my rib cage, my mind remained calm. I knew it was Violet’s spelled tattoo. Magic tingled outward from the point on my ribs where I’d had her tattoo a Celtic knot on me yesterday, washing me with a coolness that bled into my bones. Violet’s tattoo charm was the only way I was able to think straight after seeing Shane grab then forcibly kiss my mate.
What the hell was Shane playing at? Why was he taunting me? I couldn’t wait to find out after I beat him bloody.
A horn blared at us as it passed. I’m sure we were freaking out drivers. It was full dark, and I doubt we looked close to sane tearing down the street after Shane.
“He’s almost to Canal!” yelled Henry, speeding past me. Damn, he was fast! I had no idea grims could move like that.
Shane banked right when Magazine intersected with Canal, grinning over his shoulder at us. Mateo’s growl echoed back to me. When we rounded the corner in the same direction, the streets packed with cars and people meandering the sidewalks, I almost careened right into a Lucky Dog street vendor.
“Where is he?” yelled Mateo, slowing but not stopping.
I couldn’t find him as I scanned the tops of heads. “Fuck!”
Henry passed me. “There!” Leading the way, he pointed toward the river. “He’s heading toward the water.”
We took off again, weaving through people, accidentally knocking a few.
“Watch out, asshole!” some suit yelled after us.
I moved back into the street. It was easier to weave through and around cars than people. Likely, Shane was headed to the moonwalk on the levee, a less populated place for people to stroll along the river. He could get away faster that way and also head straight into the chaos of the Quarter and lose us.
At the very end of Canal, I ran across the circular cobblestone parking entrance of the Hilton and toward the steps beyond leading to the moonwalk.
“Where’s that fucker going?” asked Mateo, running at my side now, neither of us even winded.
This was when werewolf genes came in handy.
“Gotta be heading to Jackson Square. It’ll be a nightmare of tourists right now.”
“As soon as we’re out of sight of the populace, I’ll catch him,” assured Henry.
Mateo and I shared a questioning glance. Just how fast were grims?
It was a rule that supernaturals couldn’t do anything in front of humans that revealed our super-human abilities. And while anyone could see that we were running faster than almost any human, it wasn’t outside the realm of reality, which was why Henry mentioned that we were almost out of sight of people on the street.
We pushed on up onto the moonwalk. Only a couple or two in the distance. Shane’s scent came stronger; we were gaining on him. My wolf rumbled a deep growl in my chest.
“We’re close.” Mateo’s voice had dropped into wolf-range, too.
His scent was so strong now. Near the water.
Then Henry blurred past us, basically disappeared in a streak of black. We saw him materialize and scale down out of sight. When we caught up a few seconds behind him, he stood right down at the edge of the water lapping against the rocks of the levee.
“What the fuck?” I stared down the embankment, a pile of jagged rocks.
Shane was in a speedboat, some other werewolf driving, already too far offshore for me to leap to him if I tried.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I called out to him.
His grin and golden eyes lit up under the moonlight.
“Don’t worry, brother!” he called out, sarcasm reeking in every syllable. “We’ll take good care of your girl before we give her back.” Then he laughed as the boat vanished, speeding into the darkness.
My blood chilled in my veins. “No.” This was a fucking decoy.
I reached for my phone in my back pocket, but Henry already had his in his hand, answering a call. “Talk.”
His coal-black eyes skated to mine with something I’d never seen in the obsidian gaze of that grim. Concern.
My stomach plummeted. He listened for five more seconds then clicked off, holding my gaze. I knew what he was going to say before he said it, but it didn’t diminish the lacerating pain of hearing the words.
“Violet is gone.”