Page 20 of Blood

“You have a phone?” Violet asks, shocked.

The White Stag ignores her. “Go. Create your army. Trust me when I say that there are more monsters on your side than you know. Start with the Van Helsing girl. She’ll make a strong and fierce ally.”

Violet shakes her head sadly. “She’s under the influence of Zeus’s spell. I don’t think—”

“Trust me, young Dracula.” The White Stag’s cavernous black eyes glue to Violet’s face. “If anyone can find a way to break the power of Zeus’s rune, it’s you.”

Abruptly, Violet’s face drains of all color, turning stark white beneath her mass of amber curls. She turns toward me with wide, horrified eyes.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

I’m instantly on alert, scanning the room for any threats.

“What?” I bark.

“Vanessa.” Violet swallows heavily. “She’s still tied up in the safe house... Has been for days! I’m the worst designated best friend ever.”

CHAPTER 8

BEANIE DUDE

I don’t know her name, but something about her calls to me.

I can’t look away.

I don’t want to.

So...I float, aimless and adrift, a sailor with no anchor to keep him tethered, a boat rocking on the turbulent seas of death and despair. Because that’s what I am, after all.

Dead.

I’m...dead.

The realization sits like a heavy rock in my gut—an impenetrable boulder that refuses to shift even a fraction of an inch to provide me relief.

How come I can remember that detail but not the name of the enticing woman with sunlit blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes? How can I so keenly feel the sting of a blade as it pierces my flesh but not the softness of this goddess’s skin beneath my fingertips? I must have touched her before. There’s no way I would’ve been able to resist. She’s temptation in the cruelest of forms—an angelic entity that somehow found herself trapped on Earth, haunting this plane for all of eternity. Or maybe she’s just here to haunt me.

Ironic, considering I’m the nameless, faceless ghost following her around.

The pink and black dress she wears clings to her generous curves, emphasizing the swell of her breasts. She most certainly seems to like the color pink.

Pinkie.

I’ll call her Pinkie.

There’s a certain...rightness in the depths of my soul at hearing that name. It soothes something dark and temperamental inside of me, a demon on the warpath, roaming with no explicit destination in mind. How can a single female tame the beast inside of me?

So, I watch.

I wait.

And I plan.

A force tries to drag me away from her, on to the next life, but I resist through sheer force of will. I can’t leave her. Not yet. Not ever.

Pinkie, whoever you are, whoever I am...I’m coming for you.

CHAPTER 9

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