Biting Bad_ A Chicagoland Vampires Novel(98)

“On it,” Jeff said. He scooped my grandfather up and headed toward the back of the basement.

“Where are you going?”

“Back bedroom. Emergency window.”

I hadn’t even remembered there was a bedroom back there, much less a window.

“Right behind you,” I said, listening for his footsteps in front of me, as I certainly couldn’t see anything. I covered my mouth with a hand, smoke from the fire upstairs beginning to funnel down through the cracks in the ceiling.

Jeff moved swiftly through the serpentine basement hallway, around corners and into a small back room where, I now remembered, my grandmother had kept our Christmas presents before they were wrapped. My sister and I had dug through the closet on occasion, trying to figure out which one of us got the Lite Brite and the doll that wet itself.

But those presents were long gone. Instead, we fixed our sights on the small window that was about to become our escape route.

“Open it,” Jeff directed, and I pulled a stool over to the window and unlatched the window frames, which opened into a window well.

“Get out,” Jeff said. “I’ll help boost your grandfather up.”

I nodded, pushed myself up to the sill, and climbed outside, gulping in the first fresh air I’d had in minutes, then kicking away snow and debris to help our egress.

“Ready,” Jeff said, maneuvering my grandfather’s shoulders through the windows. I grabbed his torso again and pulled until I could cradle him in the window well.

“Let me help,” said a voice above me.

I looked up to see a Chicago Fire Department member in a fire suit and hat on his knees at the edge of the window well.

As Jeff climbed safely from the fire and paramedics strapped my grandfather to a gurney, I said a silent thank-you to the universe.

—

The house was surrounded by vehicles—fire trucks, police interceptors, two ambulances. Their blue, red, and white lights shined across the yard, which was full of debris thrown out by the explosion.

I found my sword and cleaned away the smoke and ash, giving the EMTs room to work while they stabilized my grandfather, but I moved closer when they loaded the gurney into the back of the ambulance.

Tears welled in my eyes at the sight, and my throat constricted so tightly, I wasn’t sure if I could breathe.

One of the EMTs stayed by his side; the other climbed out of the ambulance and shut the door.

“You’re his granddaughter?”

I nodded.

“He’s unconscious but stable,” said the EMT, whose name badge read ERICK. “We’ll take him to Southwestern Memorial,” he said. “You wanna follow us in your car?”

“We’ll get there,” Jeff said, stepping beside me. He had a bandage on his head and another around his arm.

“You’re hurt?” I asked, feeling suddenly numb and disconnected to the world. The adrenaline was wearing off, and fear and shock and pain were beginning to seep in.

“I’m fine. The guys said you were okay, too?”

I nodded. “Vampire healing. My lungs are sore, and I’ve got some minor burns, but they’ll heal.” I glanced down at my leathers, which were probably toast. They were pockmarked with holes from flying cinders and sparks.

“I ruined my clothes,” I said, laughing. I sounded hysterical, even to me. Was I coming unglued?

Jeff put a hand on my arm. “Merit, I’m going to get the car, okay? I’ll call Ethan and have him meet us at the hospital. He’s probably on his way.”

I nodded, and Jeff jogged away toward his car, which sat, untouched, at the end of the driveway.

I glanced around, refusing to look at the house, not ready to face the destruction or the loss of a place where I’d spent so much time as a child. A place where I’d grown up.

And what did I spy with my little eye? In front of the other ambulance sat a kid—no more than twenty—wearing a T-shirt that read CLEAN CHICAGO.

Rage coursed through me.

I picked up my sword, the handle damp with snow, and strode toward him.

“Who sent you here?”

He looked up at me and sniffed in disgust. “Nobody.”

“Who sent you here?” I pressed, placing the tip of the sword against the beating pulse of his carotid artery. It throbbed just beneath the skin, a tiny echoing heartbeat that hinted at the satiation of my hunger, and the satisfaction of my sudden lust for violence.

It was a different kind of bloodlust.

I wet my lips and looked down at him, lusting for violence in a way I’d never experienced before. I’d needed blood, sure. I was a vampire. But I hadn’t needed blood like this. I wanted to devour him, control him, sublimate him.

I wanted to end him.