Rushing forward, I kicked the assailant hard, knocking him sideways. He stumbled then fell.
Unsheathing my dagger, I rushed at him.
The figure leaped to his feet.
His hood fell back a little to reveal his long, white hair. The color of his locks was at odds with the youthful glow of his skin. But there was more. On his face were glowing blue shapes, swirling designs, like tattoos, that shimmered in the sunlight.
The man made a low, angry sound then lunged at me.
The thing about fighting werewolves is that one got used to their super-human strength. Werewolves were twice as strong, and usually twice as big, as any man. To fight a wolf, being petite was a benefit. I was small and fast. I didn’t need to be strong to fight a dumb mutt like Fenton. But I did need to be quick and smart.
The problem with fighting the opponent who now stood before me was that he was also lithe, agile, and sharp-witted.
Victoria’s guard, however, was not.
The guard swung at the man.
Apparently, the stranger had reached the end of his patience.
Muttering something under his breath, he turned and pushed the guard. I couldn’t help but see the sparkle at the tips of the opponent’s fingers, a little shimmer of blue, just before Victoria’s guard tumbled over the side of the building.
The man screamed.
The stranger looked back at me, sneered, then took off in a sprint after Victoria and Harper.
“Oh, like hell you will,” I said then turned and raced after him.
He was fast.
But now I was mad.
Something inside me lit up, filling me with warmth and light. There was no way in hell I was going to let this creature get past me. A warm feeling filled my stomach. It was a strange sensation, like something low and deep in the pit of my belly had awoken. I grabbed on to the feeling and used it to push myself forward.
Harper, Victoria, and the remaining guard had reached the end of the block.
I hurled myself toward the stranger, grabbing him and knocking him from his feet.
He quickly regained his footing. Jumping up, he moved to get away, but his face found my fist which was decked out in my silver knuckle-busters. I struck him. He staggered backward, then sneered, those bluish-silver eyes shimmering. Gripping his glowing blade, he advanced on me. I ducked and swept out a leg, knocking him to the ground. Grabbing my knife, I thrust.
The assailant sucked in a breath as the knife made contact. I had sliced his shoulder.
He winced.
I frowned. The silver knuckle-busters hadn’t burned him—though he hadn’t seemed to appreciate being whacked in the face—but my steel-and-silver blade had. This was a different kind of preternatural, something I had not seen before.
Taking the advantage, I punched him in the gut then knocked his blade from his hand.
On the street not far away, I heard the tell-tale squeal of tires.
The man spun away from me, but not before I grabbed his blade.
To my surprise, the cool metal glowed blue at my touch.
The stranger looked from the blade in my hand and back to me. He turned and listened to the sound of the escaping auto, his eyes narrowing in frustration as Harper and Victoria made their escape. There was no way he would catch them now.
He frowned hard, glaring at me, then turned and ran toward the edge of the building.
I rushed after him.
The stranger grabbed the ladder and slid down. When he reached the ground, he turned and looked up at me, glaring darkly. He then turned and rushed off upriver.
I knew where he was headed. There was a Dark District not far away. I raced down the ladder and into the city, running after him. My lungs burned.
It seemed like I was always running.
Why didn’t anything bad ever just saunter?
I caught sight of the man fleeing through the crowd as the Londoners stopped and stared. He glanced back at me.
I rushed after him.
The London streets narrowed as we neared the Dark District, a section of town dating back to the medieval period. The buildings clustered closer together, leaning toward one another at odd angles, blocking out the morning sunlight. The shops cast long shadows on the street. Gaslamps still flickered, illuminating the dim, gray space.
I stilled and tried to feel where the stranger had gone.
My instincts pulled me toward a dark, narrow alley.
I rushed in that direction in time to see the man’s cloak flutter as he turned the corner at the end of the alley.
Stashing the stranger’s dagger on my belt, I pulled my pistol. Ninety percent of whatever lived in the Dark District could be killed by a silver bullet, five-percent were already dead, and the rest needed a specialist. The odds were on my side.
Half-expecting the assassin to jump out at me, I turned the corner to find yet another dark alley, which I knew led to one of the uncompleted tunnels under the Thames. Aside from the success of the Brunel tunnel project farther upriver, digging tunnels under the Thames had turned out to be a terrible idea. They flooded, of course. The dark, earthen cavities were terrific places for terrible things to hide. I’d bet my good eye that was where he’d gone.
Keeping my pistol in front of me, I approached the tunnel. I scanned around me with my mooneye. There were other creatures here, dark things lingering in the alcoves and small rooms just off the entrance of the incomplete tunnel. They watched me closely.
My heart slammed in my chest.
Moving carefully, I stepped into the darkness of the tunnel.
I dug into my pocket with my free hand and pulled out the night optic goggles and slipped them on. Activating the switch, the world around me illuminated green for a moment.
Shadows moved everywhere.
I was definitely not alone.
Deep in the tunnel, a pair of glowing shining eyes looked back at me.
I raised my gun, aimed, and fired.
Hisses and whispered protests rose from the shadows around me. Then, I saw those glimmering eyes once more.
“I own the future, Clemeny Louvel,” the robed stranger called to me, his voice masculine but soft. It had a strange, menacing cadence.
A strange wind blew through the tunnel, carrying with it the dense scents of earth, loam, and smoke. It was a peculiar, putrid scent. The breeze ruffled my hair, blowing my cloak all around me.
And as suddenly as it came, the wind died.
He was gone.
Chapter 5: The Unthinkable
I stood staring into the void into which the stranger had disappeared. He’d opened a portal to the Otherworld here, right here, in the middle of London.
I considered his words, menacing but straightforward. If a werewolf had huffed something like that at me, I would have laughed. But something about the stranger had set me on edge. His words were not spoken like a threat. He had sounded…certain.
Lost to my thoughts, they were almost on me when I finally realized I was in danger.
Again.
“And just what are you doing so far from the light?” a deep, sultry voice asked.
For god’s sakes, fangs. Really?
I sighed heavily, unable to hide my exasperation. “Hunting much more interesting prey than you.”
“Hunting and failing, from what we can see. And now your heart is all a patter. We’ve all wondered for a long time what makes you smell so good, Clemeny Louvel. Now, we’ll finally get a taste.”
“Not today,” a voice called from behind us.
I heard a strange sound. The sound of bullets—no, not bullets—whizzed past me. The vampires, four in all, grunted as something struck them.
I looked behind me.