couldn’t outrun a vampire. Could she leap into a passing carriage? Three were leaving and she raced blindly toward them.
“There’s been a boy trampled!” someone shouted. “My god!”
Standing still amidst the cries of shock and horror, Miranda slowly turned toward the gathering crowd. She could not just run away now. She had to do something. Shivering, glancing around for Zayan, she made her way to the circle of people who were all trying to crush forward, to see. She had to elbow her way between these heartless people. They weren’t doing anything, they were feeding on horror and disaster like a vampire fed on blood. And it was like trying to fight a raging current.
“Move,” she commanded one man. She had to kick another to get him to jump aside. Through the gap between bodies, she saw a tiny form sprawled in the dirt and a woman leaning over him, screaming, tears streaking down her face.
She had to act now. She didn’t have much time.
From behind her, a hand clamped down on her right wrist, holding her captive. “Got you, you witch,” a man growled.
That voice. She recognized it. Her heart threatened to leap out of her chest. Miranda twisted to meet the hard gaze of James Ryder—the vampire slayer who wanted to kill her.
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