Page 15 of The Baritone's Rival

Of course, he wouldn’t do that. But he could fantasize about it.

He walked down the tree-lined Park Slope street, and the sun danced on his skin as it filtered through the oak leaves. It wasverybright out. Vampires didn’t burst into flames in daylight, regardless of what the old tales said, but itwasdraining, and he’d always been particularly susceptible to it. Maybe it was a balance for his aptitude with mental powers. A wave of nausea hit him.

He swallowed it down and continued his way up the incline of the empty sidewalk and through the wealthy neighborhood, the well-preserved brownstones looking down on him from both sides of the street as he went. The Brooklyn Institute of Music was there at the top of the hill. The sooner he was inside the practice room and out of the sun, the better.

“If it isn’t the fancy one.”

Oscar looked up to see Rick, the asshole vampire with the crew cut who’d been bullying Justin. He stood a few feet in frontof him. He was grizzled, with four or five days of scruff on his face, wearing a beat-up jean jacket. A large vein bulged in the center of his forehead.

Rick was flanked on either side by a couple of baby vamps. The crisp ash smell of the recently turned poured off them. The change had happened young, as well—neither of them could have been more than twenty when they’d been sired. They were dressed in stained, baggy clothes. They were gaunt, their desperate appearance hiding any gender markers.

“This is quite a greeting.” Oscar squared his stance. There wasn’t a chance in hell this confrontation was well-intentioned. “But I should really get to class.”

“You’re wanted elsewhere,Oscar.” Rick’s voice dripped with disdain. “A friend of yours sent me to fetch you.”

“I doubt that you know any friends of mine.” Oscar was stalling. He wracked his brain for possible options. Individually, he could take on either of the younger vamps. Hell, he could probably take them both at the same time. Rick was a different question. He was older, maybe older than Oscar. One-on-one, it would be close, but Oscar was pretty certain he’d come out on top. Add in the other two, though, and he was in trouble.

As if reading his thoughts, the disheveled young vamps growled, their fangs dropping. Oscar held up two fingers in front of him, tapping into the burning core of the demon inside.

“You will leave here. You will not follow me again.”The magic stirred within Oscar as he spoke, the ancient power flowing from his lips.

The vamps stopped growling, staring at Oscar with wide eyes, their pupils dilating. For a moment, Oscar thought it had worked.

Then Rick laughed. It was harsh and ugly, and it broke Oscar’s hold on the other vampires. They shook off Oscar’s effortto Compel them, their faces scrunching in anger, their fangs glistening in the sunlight.

“Aren’t you cute?” Rick’s eyes gleamed with malicious glee. “You may be the youngest in a generation to have the old power, but you’re still young. I’ve got fifty years on you at least. Your parlor tricks won’t work on me. Elliott warned me what to expect.”

If Oscar’s heart had been capable of beating, it would have stopped. He froze, suddenly aware of the cold clamminess of his skin and the tightness in his chest.

“Elliott…my Elliott?” Oscar’s knees wobbled as he said the name. “I don’t believe you. He’s dead.”

“If he were, he couldn’t have sent me to bring you back to him.”

Oscar’s head swam. Elliott had died in the implosion that had followed Charles Azarian’s death. This wasn’t possible. He couldn’t…he couldn’t go back to that. Back to the desperate, gnawing need to be noticed, to be loved; back to being manipulated and controlled. Back to starving, his body weakening and his vision blurring from the lack of nutrients.

He thought he had escaped. His chest clenched at the barrage of old, destructive thoughts, and his throat closed, cutting off his air.

The loud growling broke through the panic as the vampires were on him. He extended his claws as he spun, lashing out to keep the two barely controlled monsters at a distance.

The name of his ex-boyfriend had thrown him at a crucial moment, and now he was trapped between the young vamps. They caught hold of him, their fangs out, their claws piercing his arms and back. He struggled, but it was no use. Rick strode toward him with a smirk on his face.

“This was easier than I thought. Guess you must really want to see yourmate.”

Oscar spat at him, the liquid hitting Rick’s cheek with a splat. He wouldn’t return to Elliott willingly. They might overpower him, but he wouldn’t play the docile lamb. Not ever again.

Rick’s hand was around his throat, tightening as Oscar scratched at the muscular vampire’s thick forearms. Rick lifted him off the pavement with one arm.

‘This can be painful if you’d like,” Rick’s voice rasped with anger. “Elliott may want you in one piece, but I don’t think he’d mind too much if you were missing a few fingers. Or a limb.”

“I…can’t…” Oscar couldn’t force his voice through Rick’s grip around his neck.

“You’ve said enough. You don’t get to?—”

A sick thud, the sound of punctured flesh, and Rick’s eyes went wide. His grip loosened as he crumpled to the ground. The remaining vamps spun to face their attacker.

It was Trent, standing in a casual t-shirt and jeans, a wooden stake in his hands. A stake that was dripping with Rick’s blood.

How? Trent was human! How could he?—?

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