This isn’t possible, her panicked brain whispered.
No one moved that fast. World record–breaking Olympic athletes didn’t move that fast!
And, of them all, Roland and Marcus were the fastest.
Blood sprayed in an arc, light from the porch sparkling off the crimson droplets as the blue-haired goth stumbled back, his throat sliced open. He didn’t even have time to raise a hand to it before Roland buried one of his sais in the kid’s chest, spun, and parried a blow the leader aimed at his back with a short sword.
Roland’s eyes were glowing again. And his weren’t the only one’s. Marcus’s. The leader’s. The Vikings’. Everyone’s eyes glowed green or blue or amber.
Everyone’s but hers.
And their teeth …
The blue-haired goth sank to his knees, emitting horrible gagging and gasping noises, mouth open to expose what could only be described as fangs.
Her heart skipping a beat, Sarah looked at the leader, whose lips were drawn back in a snarl of rage, revealing more fangs.
Oh shit.
The Vikings—fangs.
The ginger kid—fangs.
These guys weren’t …
They weren’t … vampires … were they?
Vampires don’t exist.
Then why did the ginger kid just sink his fangs into Marcus’s arm?
Marcus rewarded him by cutting his femoral artery, damned near severing the kid’s leg in the process.
Were Roland and Marcus vampire hunters?
“The woman is his weakness!” the leader growled suddenly.
Instantly, the goth with the bleach-blond hair dropped back, slunk to one side, and edged his way around Roland. His glowing cerulean eyes fastened on Sarah. There were several cuts and slits in his clothing, which glistened damply. The material parted as he moved toward her, revealing pale, blood-coated flesh torn open where Roland had scored hits with his arsenal of blades.
His mouth twisting in an evil smile, the boy stalked her slowly, fangs gleaming. Sarah took a step backward, then belatedly remembered the weapon in her hand.
Raising the Glock, she flicked the safety off and fired once. The bullet entered dead center between the goth’s eyes and exited the back of his head, accompanied by a disgusting amount of flesh.
His head snapped back. “Ahh!” Then he glared at her. “Bitch, that hurt!”
Crap. Aim for the arteries.
As he started toward her, Sarah fired three more times in quick succession. Blood spurted from his neck, abdomen, and thigh.
His face contorting in fury, he lunged toward her.
Wind stirred her hair as a blur of motion swept past her and hit the goth. Metal glinted in the dim light. The goth fell to the ground. Above him, Roland paused, panting, bleeding from several wounds on his torso and arms.
His eerie eyes met hers. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, too frightened to speak.
The leader’s short sword swung while Roland was distracted and sliced into his neck. Blood splattered Sarah’s face and front.
“No!” she screamed as Roland reeled backward, scarlet liquid pouring down his chest.
Turning the Glock on the leader, she fired repeatedly, eyes filling with tears. His body jerked with each impact.
Sarah paused, blinking to clear her vision.
She had hit him once in the head and five times in the chest and he was still standing. A throwing star embedded itself in his collarbone, drawing the leader’s attention to Marcus.
Sarah turned to Roland.
Holding one hand to his neck, he staggered and nearly fell. His shirt and pants were already saturated. His face was utterly colorless.
“Roland.”
It was her fault. He had been protecting her. If she hadn’t distracted him, he would’ve seen the blow coming and avoided it.
She started toward him.
The last goth kid hissed and sprang at her.
Roland moved in a blur, intercepting her attacker. There was a loud crack. The cherry-haired goth screamed as a jagged bone protruded from his forearm.
Roland twisted the other arm up behind the kid’s back. His face contorted in agony, the goth held himself motionless.
Roland raised his head and met her gaze.
Every ounce of blood in her body sank to Sarah’s feet.
His eyes glowed even brighter than they had before. His face was lined with pain.
And now Roland sported a set of fangs as sharp and deadly as the others’.
Terror engulfed her. Her limbs began to shake.
“Look away, Sarah,” he growled, his handsome features harsh.
She shook her head, nearly tripping over the briefcase and tote as she stumbled back until Marcus’s car stopped her.
“Look away!”
She couldn’t.
Roland swore fiercely, then bent and sank his teeth into the goth’s neck.
He was one of them. Roland was one of them! He was a vampire!
Sarah looked around wildly.
The Vikings were down. So was the grunge guy and the ginger kid, whose body, she saw with horror, was beginning to shrivel up like a mummy’s.
Marcus was fighting the leader. Her front lawn was awash with blood. A dozen more men with glowing eyes were exiting the trees across the yard.
She glanced back.
Roland was drinking the goth kid’s blood, his luminous gaze watching her every move.
Sliding along the car, away from Roland and his prey, Sarah fought down hysteria. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps, while a voice in her head shouted, Go! Run! Get the hell out of there!
When she reached the front bumper, her foot kicked something that made a tinkling noise. Barely visible in the shadow she cast lay Marcus’s keys.
Sarah bent, grabbed them, and bolted for the driver’s door. Scrambling inside, she slammed the door shut, locked it, locked the passenger door, set the gun on the seat beside her, and shoved the key into the ignition.
She couldn’t reach the pedals.
Groping around the base of the seat, she found the adjustment lever, pulled it, and scooted the seat up as far as it would go.
Through the passenger window, she saw Roland drop the goth’s limp body to the ground.
Sarah turned the key. The engine roared to life.
His eyes met hers for one drawn-out moment, full of rage and something else, before he turned and met the onslaught of the new vampires.
Putting the car in reverse, she stomped on the accelerator and turned to look behind her just as the back bumper slammed into a vampire who had circled around and been heading for Roland’s back.
She hadn’t even seen him coming.
His body rolled up, hit the back windshield, and slid off to the side as she turned the wheel, backed into the two-lane blacktop road in front of the house, and hit the brakes.
Putting the car into drive, she flipped on the headlights and floored it.
Tires squealed. The smell of burning rubber filled the air as the car rapidly accelerated.
Trees whipped by, dark, unfocused giants. Fireflies blinked and sparkled as she passed. The only sounds that met her ears were the humming of the engine, those weird North Carolina bugs, and her rasping, gasping breaths.
In the rearview mirror, her tiny house, its porch light, and the macabre battle taking place in front of it shrank, then disappeared from view as the road curved, rose, and dipped.
Sarah’s whole body was trembling. Her thoughts were scattered. Her actions driven solely by the need to get away. Fast. Too fast to navigate the bends and curves of the road safely, but she couldn’t bring herself to slow down. She turned on the high beams, hoping it would compensate for the lack of streetlights and let her see any deer that may have ambled onto the road in time to avoid hitting them.
Vampires, she thought hysterically.
Vampires were real.
And Roland was one of them.
The hood of the car abruptly buckled when a man seemingly dropped out of the sky and landed on it in a crouch.
Sarah screamed as the front of the car nose-dived into the pavement. The air bag exploded into her face, slamming her head back into the headrest. The rear end of the car kept moving forward, tires squealing as the car spun around and came to a jarring halt facing the trees on the side of the road.
Not wearing a seat belt, Sarah was hurled like a rag doll into the driver’s side door. Glass shattered, showered her, cut her as pain shot through her head and the left side of her face and body.
The engine sputtered, then faltered into silence.
Dazed, she grabbed the armrest to lever herself upright. Shards of glass sliced into her forearm and through the gauze bandages on her palm. Wincing, she yanked her hand back and sluggishly straightened in her seat.
The air bag wilted as it deflated, allowing her to peer blearily through the front windshield.
The dark figure crouched on the hood slowly rose to his full height.
It was the lead vampire in the long black coat.
Sarah whimpered when he met her gaze and smiled menacingly, fangs glinting in the ambient light of the high beams.
Terrified, she searched for the Glock but couldn’t find it. It wasn’t on the seat, under the seat, or on the floorboard.
The vampire stepped off the car and landed gracefully on the pavement.
Seeing nothing else she could use as a weapon, Sarah gritted her teeth, picked up a triangular piece of glass, and curled her fingers around the wide end.
Aim for the major arteries.
Blood welled and saturated white gauze as the sharp edges cut through the bandages and sliced her skin like a knife. The odor of burned rubber spoiled the late spring breeze that ruffled her hair.
Strolling to the driver’s side door, the vampire stopped within striking distance.
Sarah tensed, biding her time.
Something large slammed into the vampire, knocking him back at least fifteen yards.
The glass shard cut deep as Sarah jerked in surprise.
Leaning forward, she saw … Roland, picking himself up and turning to swing his sais at the other vampire.
Was he protecting her? Or was he saving her for himself so he could—what—bite her? Suck her blood? Kill her?
Screw that!
Turning the key, she mentally urged the engine to start. Come on.
It coughed a few times but did no more.
Come on!
