Page 2 of Fangbanger

He can’t see me behind the truck, but it feels like he can.

I am eight years old again and trembling, in a car much smaller than my truck, covered in a scratchy, musty blanket. The edge of the seat digs into my shoulder. I whimper, just to cover the sounds of killing. I know I shouldn’t peek, but the screams are so loud, and I’m so scared that hiding doesn’t feel like a real option. I have to know what I’m facing.

The edge of my stake digging in to my palm pulls me out of the memory. I draw a raspy breath and force my throat to loosen.

Marcus’s eyes seem to burn silver in the night.

That thrumming strengthens, vibrating my ribs. It draws my eyes to the breadth of his chest and the soft pout of his lower lip. I have a brief impulse to walk forward and touch him, and I grit my teeth against it.

Maybe it’s my magic. I shake my head. Right. After twenty years of trying, now it appears? Be real, Leah. My family’s magic died with my great-aunt and my parents. I have my stakes and my wits and my ability to plan, and that’s it. This is a vampire’s power to draw prey, nothing more.

I fumble for my pocket and pull out a bag of lemon verbena. I shake it on the ground to hide my scent.

After what feels like far too long with his gaze locked on my truck, Marcus disappears into the night. I rise from my crouch, my legs nearly numb, and jog forward over the gravel. I drop to my hands and knees and hunt for something I can take. Anything.

There.

A piece of leather. It looks like it came off the jacket he was wearing. I slip it into my pocket and jog numbly back to the truck.

I downshift out of the parking lot, then upshift for the highway and the long drive home. I have to kill him, even if it feels impossible.

2

LEAH

“You’re going to need stitches,” Karina pronounces.

My best friend is peering at my side as the first rays of sunlight slice through the wavy glass on her windows. She lives in an old Victorian just like I do, but hers is decidedly witchier. Two cats watch me from the breakfast nook. There are herbs hung from the rafters and a sword on the wall. In case I summon something dangerous, she once said.

“I’m too pretty for stitches. Give me one of those bandages. I know you have more.”

“Don’t be a hardo. On something infected, those bandages will hurt like hell.”

“No time for stitches to heal.” I grit my teeth against the pain as I shift.

Karina sighs. “What was it that got you again?”

“Ghoul.” I wince and let my shirt fall. Ghouls famously carry diseases on their claws. “Del called me at four a.m.”

My friend moves around the kitchen, pulling herbs from jars without glancing at the labels. “And you came running?”

I shade my eyes. The sunlight is giving me a headache. “I did. I was out anyway. He said it was terrorizing his cats.”

“And he paid you how much?”

I scrunch my face.

Karina raises both brows.

“He’s going to work on the truck for free next time.”

“That’s what he said last time.”

“Well, she needs a lot of work. She’s aging.” The red truck belonged to my great-aunt, which makes it older than I am.

Karina looks unimpressed. “Or you could start demanding money from the jobs you take on, and then you’d have a new truck.”

“I do take money,” I protest. At Karina’s look, I sigh. “He was friends with my great-aunt. I’m not going to hound him for money on top of his cats getting killed. I’m not a monster.” I knew Del wasn’t going to pay when I drove over there, just like I know what it’s like to need something and not be able to pay for it.