Page 10 of Fanged Embrace
Amara herself was freshly turned—Dylan’s handiwork—and she was still getting the hang of her new body. Her fangs poked out whenever they felt like it and she was occasionally overcome with random bouts of insatiable hunger. Vampirism suited her, but it would take some time to get used to it.
She was lucky. Amara had Dylan and the rest of the coven to guide her. But if someone was out there turning people on a whim, and worse still, releasing them into the city, that was a problem.
There was no telling the kind of havoc a bunch of freshly turned vampires could wreak.
Dylan caught my eye and her stony expression mirrored my own. “There was a near massacre at the Ikea store last night, which we barely covered up. Jordan and Skye have been working on damage control, and Hunter has been wiping minds left and right. But we want to take a look ourselves—see if we can track down whoever is responsible.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Ikea, huh? Of all places.” My humor was hollow. “Okay, yeah, we can take a look.”
Dylan nodded, already backing towards the door with Amara in tow. “We’re heading out later tonight. Bring your eyes, if you know what I mean.”
Bring my eyes.She meant my visions—like I could justconjure them on demand. But I didn’t have the luxury of complaining. I wanted answers,and this spree of newly turned vamps might be tied to the same future meltdown I had glimpsed.
Laurie could be a part of it, or maybe not, but it was all swirling around the same catastrophic sinkhole. I was sure of it.
6
Laurie
When I first caught wind of the trouble at Ikea, the one not too far from my block, I had rolled my eyes. I assumed a clash between customers got out of hand. But then the rumors started up online: half the store trashed, a few employees missing, evidence whisked away all too neatly, too quickly—then I started to wonder.
When I dug a little deeper and discovered eyewitnesses suddenly unsure of what they’d seen, despite their earlier statements, I began to suspect something a little more sinister than a simple shopping mall spat.
A trashed store, but no reported injuries. People going back on their earlier statements, insisting that they’d seen nothing unusual at all: “An argument gone wrong, that’s all it was”. All evidence pointed to some kind of supernatural cover-up.
But why? What were they hiding? What exactly went down atIkea,of all places?
I had to know. Maybe it was all a major dead end and I was due to start wearing a tinfoil hat to signal my spiral intoconspiracy theory hell. Or maybe there was something there that could lead me to the heart of the mysterious organization. Either way, I had to investigate.
Night had long since settled over the city when I crept into the parking lot. The place was still roped off with police tape, the entire perimeter lit by a lonely floodlight that cast harsh shadows along the building’s facade. A couple of unmarked cars sat out front, but no sign of officers actively patrolling. Maybe they’d already left—whoever orchestrated the cover-up must have been thorough.
I found a side entrance, a door with a twisted lock that someone must’ve forced open recently. Perfect. I inched past the snapped police tape flapping in the breeze and squeezed through the gap. My heart hammered with the thrill and tension of trespassing, but it wasn’t enough to scare me off. Fear was an old familiar and I was on a mission.
My entire reason for living hinged on unearthing the truths that lurked just out of sight—and putting my enemies in the ground. If this place had been the site of a supernatural scuffle (and it sure seemed that way), I needed a closer look.
Inside, the store lay in eerie disarray. Overturned shelves and random pieces of furniture lay scattered across the showroom floor. The sharp scent of something acrid—blood or chemicals—clogged the air.
I picked my way through the wreckage in the dark, ignoring the prickle of goosebumps along my arms. A lamp display near the bedding section had been ripped from its mount, and glass shards crunched under my sneakers. The hush felt oppressive, like the store itself was alive and holding its breath. Another aisle boasted a toppled sofa, stuffing strewn everywhere like someone had gone at it with a hacksaw.
I scoured the floors for evidence, blood stains, anything that might hint at what had happened, and paused by a battered shelving unit, scanning the gloom.Nothing.My chest achedwith frustration. All real evidence had been neatly sanitized. But the gravity of the destruction told me enough: something big, something fierce, had happened here. A clue in itself, I guess.
Somewhere in the distance, a faintclankechoed, sending a jolt up my spine. On instinct alone, I ducked behind an overturned display cart, breathing shallow breaths through my nose.
After a moment, silence returned. Maybe it was just the building settling, or debris shifting. Maybe I really was losing my mind. But if the truth was what I suspected, then some supernatural creatures had gone berserk in here, maybe hurt some people—and the real damage had been quickly and quietly polished away. Why?
Because they do that. Theyalwaysdo that.
Then a new sound reached my ears. Voices. Faint, but clear enough in the sprawling space. Adrenalin spiked in my veins and I crouched lower behind the display cart, fisting a hand to my mouth.
“…told you we should’ve come sooner.” A feminine voice, slightly testy, echoed from somewhere nearby.
“Dylan, enough,” came another voice, exasperated.
I squinted into the darkness and listened: two—no, three sets of footsteps. Shadows moving in the gloom.
“I’m just saying, if you were as committed to this mission as you are to your yoga mat—Ow!”
I heard a scuffle, and then a third voice, speaking slowly, sounding out each syllable. “Stop bullying River and focus. If you two keep bickering, we won’t find a thing.”
