Page 58 of After Darkness Falls

They all seemed beautiful to her, like big-screen actors or models. There was one plump woman playing with a dagger. Her pink cherry mouth and strawberry hair said soft and sweet, but her dexterity with sharp objects proved that to be a lie. There was also a tall woman with short dark hair, and another shorter one perched on a chest of drawers. The three others were guards, judging by the way they held themselves stiffly and stood close to the exits.

"Well, well." The short woman's gaze was intense. "What have we here?"

"Another friend," Jack replied lightly.

Chloe hadn't noticed at first, but now it was clear that the woman was related to Jack. She had his nose, his eyes, and his aura. Everything about her said leader.

His mother. The high guard.

Damn, good genes ran in the family. She didn't seem to be a day over thirty, if that.

The vampire blood, Chloe guessed.

"Friend, hm?" She winked at her son. "Whatever you say. Just hurry and make pretty babies, will you?"

Jack groaned. Tris seemed to be on cloud nine.

The woman waved to Chloe, then pointed to her own chest. "Becca Hunter."

"Chloe Miller," she replied.

Becca pointed to the table. "Come. Sit. Eat."

Orders. Chloe knew she would have hissed and made a point of standing until she grew roots if they'd come from Levi, but the friendly woman's tone didn't bother her. Plus, there was bacon.

She sat down, and Blair passed her a plate of eggs.

Various trays filled the table—mushrooms, bread rolls, roasted tomatoes, sausages, mash, and bacon. So much bacon.

She piled the food onto her plate. Before digging in, she remembered the scarf. Chloe lifted it in the air.

"I found this on my bed. Who bought it for me?"

Silence. "On your bed?" Jack repeated.

Chloe nodded. "It wasn't there last night. It was in a box. No note or anything. I thought it might be from Cat or Mikar…"

"Call them. Check," he said, reaching for the scarf.

But the moment Jack's hand touched the fabric, the scarf moved of its own volition, crawling quickly up the side of Chloe's arms, tightening at each revolution. It was slithering to her neck, she realized, frozen in fear. Her arm was growing more and more painful with each passing instant as it squeezed hard enough to break bone, stopping her blood circulation.

And then, a sharp pain cut through the numbness. One of the three older female huntsmen—the redhead—had cut through the fabric. Chloe's blood ran onto her shoulder, red and dizzying.

The lovely scarf was in pieces on the floor.

"Don't touch that," Becca ordered her son, who was bending down toward what was left of it. "The spell might not be broken yet."

Jack nodded, pulling a knife out of his jacket. Did everyone have a knife? And why didn't she?

Chloe chuckled. She could count on her strange brain to think of the most stupidly inappropriate response to almost being strangled by a scarf.

"You're okay?" Gwen whispered.

Chloe nodded, with difficulty. Becca said, "Your friend is probably in shock. Do you have a spell for that?"

Gwen shook her head, but Blair was already pulling a flask out of her bag. "Two drops," she told Chloe, who opened the bottle and drank it without question.

Almost immediately, warmth spread through her—she hadn't even realized she was so cold. Her trembling fingers went still. She breathed out.

---