Violet Midnight (Violet Night Trilogy) (7 page)

“But I think I want to stick with my decision to wait on the whole sex-thing.” She let out the breath she’d sucked in. “It’s so intense between us right now. To add that—I think waiting is the right thing to do.”

“I see.”

What if he didn’t want to wait?

He exhaled, drawing her attention. “It’s not going to be easy, you know? I’ve never felt like this before. Ever.”

“Me neither. I—” A sharp zing bolted up her forearm. She tensed, and on reflex, her hand fisted. A soft orange glow bounced off the slick tabletop her arm lay across.

“Whoa. What’s happening?”

Her jaw tensed as she flipped her hand over. The neon light cut through the dim kitchen. “Gotta go, Jake.”

“Wow. That’s amazing,” Jake said.

“It’s still dim, so they must not be close to me yet.” She pushed her chair back and stood, thankful they weren’t near Jake’s house. She didn’t want them close to him.

“Let me get a shirt, I’m coming with you.” He rose to leave, but she grabbed his arm.

“No. I need to go wander, I’ll find out what’s up.” She released her grip on him and turned toward the kitchen door.

“I can help. I’m meant to.”

“Next time. You haven’t had enough training yet.” She paused, staring at the screen door. She wanted him to go with her, but what if Vamp-fangs could pierce even his skin? He could die, and that wasn’t something she could allow. “Let me go handle this and check on Ava.”

“Em, wait.”

He was safer this way. That was all that mattered. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said and bolted out the door.

Jake hurried down the hallway to his bedroom and threw open the door. He tripped over a pair of shoes, and kicked one across the room. He stumbled to his dresser and tore a drawer open. After shuffling through it, he found a t-shirt and turned toward the door.

What was that stench? Rotten eggs? Dirty socks?

He smelled his pits. It wasn’t him, but the smell was overpowering.

Wrestling the shirt over his head, he made his way to the front door. Once on the porch, he scanned the street in both directions but didn’t see Emma. He bound down two stairs onto the sidewalk and broke into a jog.

Emma was scared, Jake sensed it, but he wouldn’t let her bolt. He’d learn—and fast—how to be a Hunter so he could fight with her. Help her find out what these Vamps were doing back on campus.

Around the corner to his right led him through the neighborhood, back toward the campus. Despite the darkness, he saw everything. The trees swayed in the breeze, each leaf crystal clear. A squirrel shimmied up the tree and into a hole. He heard its claws scratching the bark.

A dog yelped, and it rang in his ears as though it was only inches from him. He slowed to a walk, then stopped.

What was happening to him?

He shoved his hand into his pockets and looked around. It was dark, so how could he suddenly see as if it were midday? He inhaled through his nose and smelled a steak grilling. With another deep breath, he caught the scents of a wet dog, lilacs, and so many other odors he couldn’t place.

His heart hammered his chest.

A familiar scent tickled his nose. Strawberries. A sweet sugar-perfume.

Emma.

It was strongest back the other direction, away from campus. His pulse spiked as he let it lead him. Maybe this was what Emma had meant by Instinct.

At the end of the block, he paused, and his senses trampled him once again. He checked both directions, but as he turned to the right, Emma’s scent overpowered him. Gooseflesh crept over his skin as the September air bit at his face.

He trotted down Truman Street until he approached the dead end. He hopped the curb and started down the paved trail into the patch of woods.

Street lamps cast a weak, yellow light over the sidewalk, barely cutting through the thick darkness that had settled in.

Emma, where are you?

The night came alive with sounds of snapping twigs, a snarl, and then a grunt. Jake froze. His skin prickled as if static electrified the air.

From behind him, he heard breathing. It was pressured, uneven. He dropped to his haunches in time to see a blur fly over him.

Whatever hurdled him landed with a grunt and quickly leapt to its feet.

A dark, shadowy figure stood before Jake. A tall body, maybe six-foot-three, with wide shoulders outlined by the moon’s silver rays, faced him. Two red dots for eyes. Through the darkness, Jake saw the lips curl back over long, white teeth.

A Vamp.

A growl ripped through the creature’s clenched jaw.

Would their teeth be able to puncture his skin when a knife couldn’t? Jake’s stomach hollowed. His shoulder throbbed. The suddenness shook Jake from his stance, and his knees crashed against the asphalt path. He reached over and yanked up his sleeve, knowing this distraction could prove fatal with a Vamp standing ten feet from him. But he had to see.

The red glow cut through the blanket of night. The Vamp in front of Jake cocked his head to the side.

The creature’s flaming orbs dimmed as it stood straight. He snarled, then backed away and disappeared into the night. Jake peered down at his arm, and the color dissipated.

The Vamp was scared of my arm
.

Jake continued onward, scanning the darkness flanking him. Hopefully this trail would bring him to campus again. Twigs and dried leaves cracked beneath his weight. The sound thundered, and he brought his hands to his ears like a little kid trying to block out the annoying words of his mother.

Noises swarmed through his mind. People breathing, screaming, whimpering, owls hooting, dogs barking, distant voices, and even more distant, an argument. The grumble was about why dinner wasn’t cooked yet. A different set of voices bickered about which team was going to make the playoffs.

He fell to his knees. Sweat trickled down his forehead, despite him shaking in the cool evening air. His head would explode soon if he didn’t calm down.

Breathe, man.
Just breathe.

He crawled onto a bench beside the path and closed his eyes.
Focus on Emma.

The riot of voices and smells assaulting him drifted out of consciousness. His erratic heart slowed to a respectable pace. He needed a few minutes of meditation.
Relax.
His thoughts drifted to Emma until darkness ruled.

A flash of Foster Dad number six, the one responsible for the scar running along Jake’s jaw, ignited in his mind.

“I’m sorry, Frank. I didn’t mean it.” Jake stepped away from the kitchen table.

“You good for nothing piece of shit,” Frank Saunders bellowed as he leapt to his feet, knocking his chair over.

“Honey, he didn’t mean to spill it,” Sandra said.

Like lightning, Frank’s hand cracked against her cheek.

Sandra flew out from her chair and landed on the linoleum floor with a crash as the chair toppled onto her.

“Hey!” Jake said. His insides churned. Frank was so much bigger than young Jake.

Frank turned his glare on Jake and lunged.

Panicked, Jake scampered to the kitchen cupboards and opened the drawer that housed the knives. He wrapped his tiny fingers around the hilt of the blade, but as he turned to defend himself, a mind-numbing pain exploded in the back of his head.

He fell forward, hitting his forehead on the edge of the cabinet and slumped to the ground. His saving grace clanked to the floor beside him.

In the next breath, Frank was yanked away and slammed into the fridge. A human-sized dent curved the door of the appliance and the Foster-Dad-of-the-Year oozed to the ground, unconscious.

A man of shadows hammered his fist home in Frank’s face, over and over, until young Jake screamed. The man stood straight and came into view.

It was Jake. Only older. Present time Jake. Strong, powerful. Violent.

“No,” Jake yelled as he shook his head, thrusting him back to reality. His chest heaved, sucking in air. He stopped and turned a three-sixty.

Gravel shifted beneath his weight. Trees flanked him, but there wasn’t a house in sight. Only one street lamp, a block up from where he stood, and darkness ate up the dirt road behind him. Jake smoothed his hand over his shirt.

Where the hell was he?

A blanket of starless, midnight sky loomed above him. Not a hint of a breeze stirred the stale air.

Was he dreaming? But he didn’t dream anymore. Not since he stopped sleeping.

A pair of headlights sliced through the void from behind him and Jake turned. The roar of a high-powered engine revved as it approached and zoomed by, pelting his arms with grit and sand. The glare of bright red taillights ignited, and the car screeched to a halt.

Jake froze. He checked behind him, remembering the lesson he’d gotten from Emma. Only dark, eerily quiet woods. No crickets even? Hairs prickled at the base of his neck. The reverse lights kicked in, and the engine roared again, bringing the vehicle toward Jake.

He shifted to the gravel shoulder, toward the ditch, starting to map out an escape route. Vamps didn’t drive cars, did they? He figured them to be more animalistic from what Emma had told him. Not that Jake knew a ton about the living habits of the nocturnal beasts.

“Jake. Is that you?” Dylan’s voice streamed out the open window. “Dude.”

“Dylan?” What the hell was he doing out here? Wherever here was. At least it wasn’t a Vamp. “What are you doing?”

“Grabbed some take-out from town, headed to Cynthia’s parents’ to hang with my girl.” He scrutinized Jake and said, “Looks like you could use a lift.”

“Thanks, man.” Jake made his way around the back of the cherry red sports car and opened the passenger side door. He plopped into the soft, leather bucket seats and slammed the door shut.

Dylan slanted him a look.

“Don’t ask.”

Dylan jammed the gear into drive. “Wasn’t gonna.”

“Come on, Jake, you punch like a girl.” Emma danced around him, shadow boxing. “I’m a girl, so I know.”

“Your punches come no where near girlish.” Jake shook out his damp hair. “And I can’t believe you just called me a girl.”

She loved it when he shook out his hair like that. They’d been training for two hours, beneath the cover of night at their spot behind The Church. For some reason, he still sweated. For sure, he was a different type of Hunter, but Emma didn’t care. He was
her
Hunter.

And he was about to sport another beating.

She lunged. This time he was ready, despite appearing to be distracted by something on the ground, and deflected her assault with a swipe of his massive hand.

He dropped and spun, sweeping Emma’s feet out from beneath her. She palmed the ground and kicked. Her foot slammed into his rock-hard stomach, sending him three feet back. She rocketed to her feet, jumped, and came down with a fist to his face, stopping millimeters from contact.

“Nice. You tricked me. But remember, when you’re stumbling, I’ll take advantage. If you have a dagger, get it pointed. If not, get ready to palm my hand or deflect it. You’ll fall back still, but you’ll evade getting hammered by the Vamp-fist or his fangs.”

“Damn, you’re good.” Jake rolled to the side and pushed up to his feet.

“You’re getting it, though, Jake. Only a couple lessons and you look like you’ve been fighting for years.” Emma patted her shorts, sending dust particles into the night air. “Not fair. I had to train forever.”

“I’ll tell you what’s not fair. You don’t sweat or get cold or overheated. My body can’t decide if it’s freezing from the cool air or boiling over because of the ass-kicking I’m getting.”

Emma slid her gaze over his moist skin. No shirt allowed the moon’s rays to hit his body perfectly, reminding her of one of those Greek mythology Gods she’d read about in Lit class last year. “You wear the sweat well.” She bent her legs and held up her balled hands. “Again.”

“Slave-driver.”

“Don’t worry, if you beat me, or come even remotely close, I’ll give you a nice, little reward.”

“If it involves you, a lot of kissing, and a little less clothing, I’m in.” Jake pounced.

And that was how it went for six days. Training during the midnight hours, studying for papers and exams, hanging out with Dylan, Cynthia, Ava, and sometimes Greg.

Strangely, the Vamp attacks halted.

It felt almost…normal.

***

“Holy shit, Em, you’re benching two-hundred-and-seventy pounds.” Jake guided the bar to its resting place.

“Yeah. Have been for a while.” She sat up. “Just getting warmed up.” She threw a glance around the weight room. Empty, thankfully, except Alex minding the front desk, but the muscle magazine he was reading held his attention.

Jake stomped around and plopped on the end of the bench. Emma took his place as spotter. “I’m getting shown up by a girl.”

“Yeah, well, you’re only mad because you’ve not beaten me yet; therefore, haven’t gotten the coveted prize.”

“More kissing, less clothing.”

Emma laughed. God. She was
laughing
. More than she had in years. She loved it. “Come on, you big baby. See if you can lift this.” Emma slammed a forty-five pound weight on each side.

“Show off.” Jake settled back onto the bench and readied himself to try.

Em knew she’d get it if he struggled pushing it up, but he was strong. Stronger than he gave himself credit for. In only six days, he was close to beating her in training. It both scared her and made her proud.

She was a good mentor, and he was super fast at learning. That was the proud part. The scared part—it probably meant something big was coming.

Had to.

Why else would they have found one another, found out they were both Hunters, and then fall for each other? It had to mean something.

Emma had gotten halfway through the trunk of documents, which explained her plummeting grade in Psych 201. But still, she had a duty to find out what she could. Jake’s Mark of Chaos didn’t rub right with her Instinct.

Jake unhitched the weight bar from its resting place. It went down to his chest, then started up. It hitched six inches above his chest. Veins bulged beneath reddening skin.

“Breathe, man.”

He exhaled, and the bar rose a few inches.

“Push it.” Em held her hands beneath the steel bar, not yet touching. “It’s all you.”

The bar inched upward.
Damn he’s strong
.

One last grunt, and the bar slammed home. “Nice.”

“That’s three hundred and sixty pounds. Beats you. I want my prize.” Jake inched toward her, a sexy, mischievous grin curving his mouth.

Emma giggled. “The bet was beat me in fighting. Not weight lifting. Genetics alone demands you beat me.”

“That’s a load of—”

“Thought I’d find you muscle heads in here.” Dylan strode around the corner from the entryway, followed closely by Cynthia. “Do you guys ever
not
work-out?”

“Funny.” Jake bumped knuckles with Dylan. “What are you guys up to?” Jake inched toward Emma.

“Movies. And you guys are coming.” Dylan whipped out his phone.

Cynthia approached Emma, the now familiar model-quality smile filling her flawless face. She seemed ages older than twenty-three, the way she held herself like a ballerina as she moved. “But, Emma, I insist you wear something other than running shorts.”

Emma laughed. “Agreed.” She was ready for a break from the training, studying, and researching. She had two years of non-normalcy to catch up on. And she intended to.

“Ava’s home, she’ll make me up good.” Emma touched a kiss to Jake’s cheek. “Really pretty, just for you.”

Jake patted her butt as she turned to leave. “Then you’re mine.”

Within five minutes, Emma cut between the Psych and History buildings to the main sidewalk into the courtyard. She plucked her phone out from her bag to warn Ava of the upcoming super-quick beautification session. The sting of her wrist launched her into attention, and the glow flared.

“Shit.” The phone slipped out of her hand and cracked against the cement. Emma whirled, taking in every direction. Brick buildings on either side, rec center behind her, and the courtyard spilled out ahead of her. Already late in the evening, not much for light other than a few light poles scattered along the path up ahead.

The Vamps must be close. The orange glow pulsed off the brick, and the sting, normally reserved for a brief warning of the glow, persisted. She shook out her hand.

“Where—”

A dark figure dropped from above.

Then another.

She looked skyward, and it rained dark objects.

Only these had glowing eyes. Six pairs.

“Crossbow. Dagger.”

One landed in each hand. She clicked off the bolts as quickly as they fell into place, silently thanking the demonic weapons master who created it. She’d need its speed tonight.

In her spray of bolts, she dusted two Vamps. Four pounced, fangs dropped, and a feral roar emanated from deep within their throats.

This was going to hurt.

The first collided with her crossbow, knocking it loose. A set of fangs sank into her wrist. She slammed her fist into his temple and spun. Her elbow found a home on another temple, but a fist jammed into her stomach. Another to her jaw.

She dropped and kicked. Her heel cracked a kneecap, and a large Vamp timbered toward her. With her dagger held blade up, Emma held steady as the Vamp landed and dust sprayed. She jabbed at a pair of thighs, and a roar sliced the air. She looked up but saw only fangs and glowing red orbs.

At least it was down to only three of them…

A swipe of her dagger found purchase, but not hearts, so no dust. They tightened around her. She pushed up and spun as she rose, blade out, hoping to sever some necks.

Only nicks. She palm punched one. As he fell back, she lunged over him and fell into a summersault. “Crossbow.”

It landed in her palm. She clicked.

Empty.

“Bolts.” A magazine dropped to the grass in front of her.

No time to lock and load. She sprinted ahead but skidded to a stop. She couldn’t lead the Vamps to the courtyard, there might be people there.

She whirled around. Time to put on the big girl panties and face them. She hurled the dagger at the biggest Vamp. Dust plumed. “Dagger.” It flashed back to her as six more dark figures dropped from the building on the right.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

In the next breath, Vamps swarmed her. Slicing and poking, she fought back, but she found herself flat on her back, pinned to the ground.

A black boot slammed into her hand, knocking her dagger loose. Weaponless and seriously outnumbered, she thought of Jake and Ava.

Please, God. Protect them. Where I failed, let Jake succeed.
And that was when it hit her; maybe Jake had come because her time as a Hunter was done.

A vamp sporting a shaved head leaned in, eyes flaring red and fangs bared. “Tough little girl. I can see why they want—”

He was ripped away. His bellow faded as he cut through the air. Dust plumed on either side of the now vacant spot and Jake came into view, gripping Emma’s dagger.

Hope renewed Emma’s burning, tired muscles. A Vamp to Jake’s left swung. He ducked and poked upward, directly into the chest. A bloodsucker grabbed Jake from behind. Just as Emma had taught him, he evaded the Vamp’s grasp, turned, and jabbed.

The one behind Emma lunged over her and tackled Jake around the waist. They rolled.

That left three for Emma.

Much easier to manage. Maybe even without the crossbow. She wanted to inflict pain a little longer than a quick, dusty death would take, considering they ruined her nearly normal night.