Page 33 of Vampires Don't Give Hickeys
All my love, Sunshine
Eddie
I shook my head in disbelief. Had they all brought me presents? I set the box aside and picked up the second one. Inside was a pair of boxing gloves with a note from Jacek:
IT’S TIME TO BRAWL!
xoxo
Jacek
I laughed and picked up the third package. It held a gorgeous silver and glass pendant in the shape of an eye. The note read:
Let your slayer sense guide you tonight. Happy birthday, Belle.
Sawyer
Tears burned the backs of my eyes at how thoughtful and perfect their gifts were, and not just the ones in the boxes. I clasped the necklace around my neck near Sawyer’s bite, fastened the holster and knife around my upper thigh near Eddie’s bite, and stuffed the boxing gloves in my duffel bag since I couldn’t exactly slay with them on. Though I was tempted to try...
My three bites tingled, as if I needed any more reminding of them. They were all neat bites, too, hardly there at all unless I looked closely. Definitely not like the hickeys given to me by my downstairs neighbor. I just hoped they were enough to thwart the devil and his demon tonight.
Now that I’d procrastinated enough, the bottoms of my feet were itching like they were about to catch fire and my head was starting to ache. Time to go. Ready or not. No time for pie or coffee.
Fuck.
I pulled open the door and locked it behind me with my brand new key.
Let your slayer sense guide you tonight, Sawyer had written. Well, it was leading me to the graveyard, as it always did, but this time dread spiked my pulse and my breaths hung inside my chest.
Would Paul be there? Or would he give it a rest since it was Halloween? This had always been a slow night for me in terms of vampires, but I couldn’t be sure dark unknowns played by the same rules. Plus, I didn’t think I had it in me to battle himanda demon. Last night had almost done me in on a psychological level, and I never, ever, wanted a redo.
Also, I still didn’t know if I was tainted enough to get rid of the devil. Sure, I could kill his demon with the seraph knife, but another one would pop up in its place. Could I make a different deal? That probably wouldn’t end well. Sell my soul? I kind of liked having one. Box the demon with Jacek’s gloves until it gave up? That plan sounded like the most fun.
If it came to a demon boxing match, I supposed I was ready in terms of equipment. In terms of actual boxing skill, I was screwed.
The night was strangely quiet and still, the lack of a breeze smothering the air with a heavy feeling. No static noise even without the cotton. No disembodied voices making me do things I didn’t want to.
As I strode toward the cemetery gates, my steps stuttered and a bitter taste soured my mouth. Yellow crime scene tape had been looped between the metal bars, and a heavy-duty lock hung from the latch.
Cold sweat rolled down my back as I set my duffel bag down, my limbs weighted with guilt. Why hadn’t I warned Tim to stay away at night? I could’ve offered to drop off his thermos if I noticed he’d forgotten it.I could have prevented his murder.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to lose it. Not right now.
With shaky hands, I pulled the stake free from the bun on top of my head and crashed it down onto the lock. It dropped to the ground, and the gate swung inward on silent hinges. Tim had always kept them well-oiled. He’d put his heart and soul into the care of the final resting place for the dead.
As I replaced the stake through my hair and pulled the seraph knife from my thigh holster, I swept over the path, searching for any sign of spit-shined dark shoes, a brimstone-scented suit, or a bowling shirt and scraggly long hair. Anything that shouldn’t be here. My stomach curdled at the sight of more crime scene tape near the middle of the graveyard, and I quickly averted my gaze.
Focus. I needed to focus on tonight, and then I could wallow in guilt if I made it through.
Maybe I’d lucked out and the devil had traded me for someone who actually cared about the state of their fingernails and didn’t wear their hair in a messy bun all day, every day. A slayer could dream.
But before I could declare a victory and call it a night, at precisely 11:59 p.m. according to my Mickey Mouse watch, a ring of fire ignited in the middle of the graveyard. Out of it rose the demon with hellfire licking at his suit.
His red eyes gleamed when they zeroed in on me and he smiled. Red lava boiled underneath the ridges on his face, crisping his mouth black. “Happy birthday, Belle Harrison.”
I sighed. “Let’s skip to the end, okay? I’m not coming with you, same as four days ago. Nothing’s changed.”
Except everything had.
