I Bite She Sucks, Bloom, Penelope [recommended reading TXT] 📗

to sandwich in between Riggs and Felix in the cab of the truck. Riggs took the wheel.

Gravy Boat curled up in his lap. Riggs looked down at him with a curled lip but didn't move him. He turned the engine over and started driving.

"So we made it?" I asked.

"Hardly," Riggs said. "They likely know where we're going. Vamps and Werewolves prefer to avoid public confrontation. If they make a move, it's more likely to be outside the city. Our best hope is that Lazarus wasn't ready for us to move tonight. He knows we had one more day of sanctuary and may have gambled on us using it. If he's dealing with something else, he might only have time to send his people for us."

"Could we handle ‘his people’?"

"Depends," Riggs said.

"Okay, so how does it work," I asked. "One on one, who wins? Werewolf or vampire?"

"Stupid question," Riggs said. "But the werewolf wins."

Felix gave Riggs a sideways look.

"Most of the time," Riggs conceded. "Vampires fight like cowards. They use guns. Bombs. Whatever suits them."

"Bombs?" I asked incredulously.

"They know their chances if it turns into a hand-to-hand contest. Besides. It's not so hard to kill a vampire. All you need to do is remove the head."

I stared at Riggs in disbelief. "So if Lazarus and his people try to stop us, you'll just remove their heads? No big deal?"

"Something like that," Riggs said.

"The part he's leaving out is that vampires prefer to keep their heads on their shoulders," Felix said. The big man with his shaved head looked gentler than I would've expected as he lifted Maisey's wrist and felt her pulse. His expression hardened. "She's not going to last much longer, Riggs. We need to hurry and get her to Blackridge."

"Can't she just have some of my blood? I asked.

"Vampire feedings don't have to be fatal," Felix said. "But she's starving by now. If we let her feed in this state, there won't be any stopping her from draining you dry. She needs an experienced vampire's guidance."

That explained why Riggs had refused to let me give her some of my blood until now. I was glad I hadn’t defied him like I’d considered a few times when Maisey was at her worst moments.

"But she'll be okay once we get to this place, right?"

Neither man answered. I took Maisey under my arm and pulled her close. I tried to ignore how strangely weightless and shrunken she felt. I brushed the hair from her forehead, cringing to feel how cold and lifeless she seemed. She was still my sister, even if she hardly looked recognizable now.

We drove most of the way in silence until we made it past the city limits and put Chicago in our rearview. I sat up a little straighter, watching the tree line for shapes.

I told myself it was silly. If these people tried to stop us, they wouldn't come running from the trees on the side of the highway, would they? They'd probably be driving a car.

Except after what Riggs said, I was now picturing them tossing grenades and shooting automatic weapons at us, as ridiculous an image as that was.

"How far is this place?" I asked.

"An hour, maybe," Riggs said. His voice was stiff. I could see how tense he was. Alert.

Seeing him so on edge made it sink in for me. I really was in danger. Not just germs or the potential of getting sick, which felt real, but different. It was a slow kind of danger. A creeping, inevitable kind.

This was more visceral. Somebody out there wanted to hurt me and my sister, or worse. And they could come at any moment.

It felt like I couldn't completely fill my lungs—like my chest was too tight to let them expand. I jerked my head toward any hint of movement, which kept turning out to be cars passing. Shocker.

I spent the next half hour or so in a nauseating state of hyper-awareness. I watched the dark trees swish by and the roads grow more empty as we got farther and farther from the city. Each mile seemed to heighten the sense of danger that was already thick in the air.

Just when I was telling myself we might make it without incident, a large black SUV pulled up beside us. The windows were heavily tinted. I looked around and saw there were no other cars on the road. I looked at Riggs, who was staring toward the SUV with concentration.

“Is that bad?” I asked.

Riggs seemed to consider for about half a second, then cranked the wheel to the side and rammed the truck into them.

I braced for impact, but it wasn't as violent as I expected. I felt myself jostle to the side and forward slightly as the tires skidded, but that was all. The SUV swerved away from us briefly and both back windows started rolling down. A man and woman looked out either window, and stuck guns out toward us.

Riggs swerved toward them again. A dark shape flew from the bed of our truck and into one of the windows of the SUV. One hand wielding a gun vanished. An instant later, the truck slammed into the side of their SUV again.

This time it was a harder hit.

My seatbelt held me in place hard enough I thought I'd have a bruise, and Riggs' thick arm shot out to keep me in place. Our truck swerved and jumped slightly, but Riggs managed to keep it upright. The SUV wasn't so lucky.

Its front end swerved as the drive over-corrected, then the back lost traction and the whole vehicle went flipping and careening down the road. I saw a body fly out the window like a ragdoll while it spun and landed somewhere in the median. After about twenty spins, the SUV skidded to a crunching halt.

Riggs slowed down, turning the truck to the side. He let out a whistle. A moment later, one of the doors flew open, and Fang emerged. His hands were bloody to the