on your neck the next time you turn your back on me?” His eyebrows rose, and I stepped forward, my face inches from his. “Stop killing indiscriminately. Or I swear, I will bury you in pieces.”
“Yes, that worked out so well for you last time, didn’t it? And it seems we keep having this conversation. Let me make something perfectly clear.” Jackal, his eyes glowing a dangerous yellow, leaned closer, crowding me. I stood my ground. “If you think I’m afraid of you,” he said softly, “or that I won’t put another stick in your heart and cut off your head this time, you’re only fooling yourself. I’ve been around a lot longer than you. I’ve seen my share of cocky vampires who think they’re invincible. Until I rip their heads off.”
“Anytime, Jackal.” I reached back and touched the hilt of my sword. “You want that fight, just say the word.”
Jackal stared at me a moment longer, then smiled. “Not today,” he murmured. “Definitely soon. But not today.” He stepped back, raising his hands. “Fine, sister. You win. I won’t kill any more of your precious bloodbags. Unless I have cause, of course.” He looked down at the dead mole man and curled a lip. “But if they come at me with knives or stakes or guns, all bets are off. Now, are we going to head into the city, or were you planning to hold hands with these cannibals and have a sing-along?”
I glanced once more at the broken corpse, wondering if his people would come for him and what they would do with his body if they did. Shying away from those thoughts, I stalked past Jackal and continued down the tunnel.
The rusty ladder that led up to the surface was exactly where I remembered it, and I felt another weird flicker of déjà vu as I pushed back the heavy round cover and emerged topside. Nothing had changed. The buildings were still there, dark and skeletal, falling to dust beneath vines and weeds. The rusted hulks of cars, their innards gutted and stripped away, sat decaying along sidewalks and half-buried in ditches. The vampire towers glimmered in the distant Inner City, as they had every night before this. Familiar and unchanged, though I didn’t know what I’d expected. Maybe I’d thought things would be different, because I was so different.
“Huh,” Jackal commented as he emerged from underground, gazing around at the crumbling buildings, the roots and weeds that grew over everything and pushed up through the pavement. “This place is a right mess, isn’t it? Where is everyone?”
“Nobody stays out after dark,” I muttered as we walked through the weed-tangled ditch, hopped the embankment and strode into the street. “Even though the vamps force the Registered humans to give blood every two weeks, and have plenty of bloodslaves in the Inner City, they still go hunting sometimes.”
“Of course they do,” Jackal said, as if that was obvious. “What fun is feeding from bloodbags you don’t catch yourself? It’s like having a stocked lake and never fishing from it.”
I ignored that comment, nodding to the very center of the city, where the three vampire towers were lit up against the night sky. “That’s where the Prince lives. Him and his coven. They never come down to the Fringe. At least, I never saw them when I lived here.”
Jackal grunted, following my gaze. “According to vampire law, as visitors to the city, we’re supposed to check in with the Prince,” he muttered. “Tell him where we’re from, what our business is here, how long we’re staying.” He snorted and curled a lip. “I don’t really feel like playing by the little Prince’s rules, and normally I would say ‘the hell with it,’ but that’s going to be a problem now, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. I could feel the pull that drew me toward my sire. It was faint now, flickering erratically, as if Kanin was barely hanging on to life, but it still pulled at me, right toward the three towers in the center of New Covington. “He’s in the Inner City.” I sighed.
“Yep. And we’ll probably run into Salazar’s men while we’re there. Could make searching for Kanin challenging if they decide we don’t belong.” Jackal grimaced as if speaking from experience. “Princes tend to be irrationally paranoid about strange vamps in their cities.”
“We’ll just have to take that chance.” I gazed at the vampire towers and narrowed my eyes. “Salazar tried to kill Kanin and me both after he found us in the city.” Jackal snickered, and I scowled at him. “He won’t be too fond of you, either, because you’re Kanin’s blood. He hates Kanin with a vengeance.”
“Everyone hates Kanin,” Jackal said with a shrug. “All the old Masters know what he did, what he helped create. If we say we’re looking for him, Salazar will probably assume we want to kill him. He doesn’t have to know the truth.”
“And what if he decides he wants to come with us and do the honors himself?”
“Salazar is a Master.” Jackal smiled evilly. “It would be helpful to have a Master around when we run into Sarren—they can tear each other to pieces, and we can sneak out with Kanin. If we’re lucky, they’ll kill each other. If not …” He shrugged. “Then we’ll just finish off the survivor when he’s distracted.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” Jackal’s voice was flat. “What, exactly, is tripping you up here, sister? Having the Prince help us? Letting him fight our psychotically murderous vampire friend? Or is it the whole ‘kick him when he’s down’ thing that’s tweaking your conscience?” He shook his head. “Don’t be so bloody naive. Salazar is a vampire, one who’s lived a very long time and has become a Prince the old-fashioned way—by killing all his competition. He’ll do exactly the same to us if he has the chance.” He bared his fangs. “And you are going to have to start thinking like a vampire, my dear little sister, or you’re never going to survive this world.”
His words had an eerily familiar ring to them. I’d told Zeke Crosse the same thing once, that the world was harsh and unmerciful, and he wasn’t going to survive if he didn’t see it for what it was.
“All right,” I snarled. “Fine. Let’s go see the Prince, but I’m not spending any more time with him than we have to. We’re here for Kanin, nothing else.”
“Finally.” Jackal rolled his eyes. “The shrew can see reason after all.” Bristling, I was about to tell him what he could do with his reason, when a noise stopped me. A soft noise. One that, for whatever reason, raised the hair on the back of my neck.
We both turned to see a lone figure staggering down the street toward us.
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