Death's Rival Read Online Free Page B

same pocket as the official cell phone.
    Satisfied, I looked up and met Tory’s gaze. He was staring at me, a singularly acute
     and piercing look. Warmth rose up my neck. I had, effectively, just gotten dressed
     in front of him. How stupid was that? “Your car is out front of the airport,” he said.
     “The driver will have a sign in the window that says ‘JY.’”
    First a Learjet, now a chauffeur. This felt downright weird. My life was not . . .
     normal. Not anymore. “I’ll be back before dawn,” I said, and was surprised when my
     voice sounded professionally polite and not schoolgirl-silly.
    I slung the tote with the blood-collection vials over a shoulder and passed Tory on
     the way out, looking down on his scalp and curly, deep-chestnut-colored hair. He was
     average height, but in the boots, I stood six-three, bringing my boobs about even
     with his face.
Right
. Smothering a sigh, I took in the small airport, or what I could make out from the
     top of the ramp. The sun had been setting when we took off from New Orleans, and it
     was only a bit later now than then, with the time changes.
    I clattered down the steel steps and into the dusk. My boots made so much noise I
     missed the sound of cloth moving on cloth, but the scent caught me as I stepped onto
     the tarmac.
    Blood-human-vampire,
Beast thought.
Guns. Upwind.
    To my left.
    I drew on Beast-speed and pulled the vamp-killer. Stepped right. Caught a glimpse
     of a shadow in my path. I smelled the gun oil and the fear-stink. I cut out right,
     hard. Impact jarred up my arm. A grunt. Reversed the knife and moved fastfastfast
     forward. Whirled. Into the light. Blinding my attackers. Two. Only two. Blood smell
     meant I’d hurt the one I’d cut at. On his blood I smelled vamp and something chemical.
     But there was no time to examine the scent. They came at me together. Moving faster
     than human. Nearly vamp fast.
Crap
.
    I hit out, feinting, and leaped up, torquing my hips, rotating my body in midair,
     midkick, at the uninjured one. My heel flew around, speeding up on the pivot point.
     Time slowed into the consistency of cold maple syrup, each moment containing a snapshot
     clarity. The bright light and black shadows danced beside and below me. My target
     moved in the split second before the kick landed. My boot hit his shoulder.
Crap.
I’d been aiming at his chin.
    I landed on my other foot, whirled, ducked, and struck out behind me with the knife.
     My blade hit metal, the sound the dull clang of a gun, followed by an “
oof”
of pain. Both attackers were injured now. This one cursed. I managed to drop the
     stupid blood-collection bag and pummeled the closest guy with a series of left-handed
     punches and right-handed cuts. Blocked his strikes. Hit him again, this time knocking
     the gun away. It spun in the air. Into the dark. I bounced back, fighting for balance
     on the three-inch heels. I came away with his blood on my fist. A shot exploded in
     front of my face, the muzzle flash blinding me. The ricochet echoed in the concussion.
    I blinked hard, trying to restore vision. The first guy I had cut came at me out of
     the retinal glare. Blinking, I dodged, cut, bent, and whirled away, biding my time
     until my vision came back, moving fast to make a harder target of myself.
    Heart thudding, I heard clattering. Tory. Joining the fight.
Idiot man
.
    One man turned toward him. Pulled another gun. I opened my mouth to shout a warning,
     but Tory kicked, straight from the hip, his entire body in the move. A practiced,
     fluid motion that bent his body into a tight V and then snapped it open. I wondered
     what he studied.
    The gun went flying. A shot rang out behind me, sounding dull beneath the concussive
     damage to my ears. Somebody had an extra gun. It sucks when the bad guys start thinking
     like me. Tory kicked again, but I smelled his blood. He’d been hit.
Enough
. I pulled a throwing knife and let it fly, the motion all one