Page 26 of Delinquents Turned Fugitives
“Hayley. With two y’s,” I gave her my real name since she knew Gray’s.
She grinned at my smart-assery before holding open the door that led to a back room filled with shelves of liquor bottles and potions of all shapes and sizes. A couple liquor bottles even glowed, showing that they’d been infused with spells of some sort.
We all crowded in, but let Gray lean against the butcher block table in the center of the room. The table was empty save for a few towels near one end and some strange ball of green thread next to it. I stood near the right side, near a couple of crates. Lysa came to stand beside me. “So, what’s going down?” she asked casually.
Cotton stomped into the room before I could answer. “Mr. Mars, you’re lucky my daughter has a bleeding heart. I’m pretty sure I told you last time that I saw you I’d mop the floor with your brains.”
“Oh, he doesn’t have any, you’d be disappointed,” Z quipped. “He’d be a better vacuum. Cause hesucks.”
I shot the idiot a glare while Lysa snorted. Malcolm put a hand on Z’s shoulder and pulled him backward, shutting him up with a pointed look.
Cotton just ignored him, which was, honestly, the best strategy when it came to Z sometimes. “What the hell are you doing in my bar?” he barked.
Gray turned and displayed the wound on his back. His gangster-style Kordell-guise polo still had the collar popped but the right half was drenched in blood. “Vampire scratch,” he explained. “Got anything for it?”
“Motherfucking—” Cotton lifted Gray’s shirt. The wound had started to blacken around the edges, something I’d never seen before. He glanced around. “Playing games at the Institute?” He shook his head. “You fucking kids and those goddamned dares—this is the second damn time!”
Wait. The second time Gray had been scratched? My eyes flew to the billionaire playboy, but he was still turned away, hunched over the table while Cotton examined his back and muttered, “I should just let you die after what you did—” The big man cut himself off as he stomped around the table, forcing Malcolm to step back a step. “How’d the rest of you idiots manage not to get eaten?”
“You haven’t heard?” My brow furrowed. “City’s on lockdown. Vamps got out of the Pinnacle.”
Cotton’s mouth thinned. “How many?”
“Thirty-ish? Unsure.”
Immediately, Cotton stomped back to the door with the porthole. A shrill whistle issued from his lips and the bar went silent—dead silent—even the music was switched off.
“Vamps. Downtown. Tiny, take five with you. Everyone else, spread the word to the old ladies. Get them into the compound.”
Boots hit the ground with thuds like thunder as Cotton turned back to us. “Alright, rich boy, let’s take care of this shit.” Cotton reached right over my head, not even asking me to move, and took a liquor bottle off the shelf. He shoved the whiskey at Gray, who immediately latched onto Malcolm’s arm and held tight as he downed a swig.
Z said, “I didn’t know whiskey was a cure for vamp scratches.”
Cotton replied. “It’s not. He’s got the whiskey because the cure is gonna hurt like a bitch.”
* * *
After Gray’sthird tortured scream I had to get some air.
I pushed through the door and entered the bar only to see that it was empty but for a guy with the stereotypical biker beard and a very non-stereotypical samurai sword sitting near the front window gazing out at the dull grey sky that preceded dawn.
He turned to look at me and then nodded. “Lysa, everything alright back there?” he asked.
I turned to see Lysa had followed me.
“Weak stomach?” She looked concerned. “I can grab you something. Water or—”
“Just don’t like the screams. Plus, we’ve got some guys outside I need to check on.”
“Outside?” She raised her brow.
“Don’t even think about it.” The man by the door pointed his sword right at her. “You’re staying here, missy and that’s—”
“Yeah, Gunther, got it,” she sighed. “Be careful. If any vamps are left, they’re gonna be looking for places to hide right now.”
I crossed through the room and Gunther unlocked the front door with a stern glare. “Not going out there and saving you.”
“Got it.”
