With a soundless growl, John pulled a reveal on his fangs and bit the fucker in the neck. Ripping all kinds of gross former human anatomy free, he spat the shit out and then dragged the gurgling thing back into the party by the hair. As he passed Xhex, he nodded at her.
"You're welcome," she said with a small bow. "And nice move with that bite action."
Looking over his shoulder at her, the respect she paid him hit him harder than any of the slayers had or could: His heart swelled and he felt as if he filled out his skin better all around.
Fucking sap that he was--
The unmistakable pop of a gun going off behind him froze him where he stood.
The loud ring was so close his eardrums felt pain rather than hearing anything specific, and for a split second afterward, he wondered who'd done the shooting and who, if anyone, had been shot.
The latter was answered when his left leg went loose under his weight and he went down like an oak.
FIFTY-SIX
Xhex's knife flew from her hand a split second after she saw the lesser come around the corner and level a gun muzzle right at John's back.
Her dagger traveled hilt over tip through the air, crossing the distance in the blink of an eye, winging past John's ear so close she prayed to a God she didn't believe in that he wouldn't suddenly decide to turn his head for any reason.
Just as the slayer pulled the trigger, her blade caught him in the meat of his shoulder, the impact shifting his torso, the pain making him drop his arm.
Which meant John took the slug in the leg instead of the heart.
As her male went down, she leaped over him with a war cry.
Fuck Butch O'Neal. This kill was hers.
The lesser was scrambling as he tried to disengage her weapon from his torso--at least until he heard her yell. Then he looked toward her and shrank back in horror--which suggested her eyes were glowing red and her fangs were fully extended and flashing.
She landed in front of him, and as he cringed and put his hands up to shield his face and neck, she didn't move: Her backup dagger stayed by her side and her third-stringer remained holstered on her thigh.
Other plans for this boy.
Using her symphath side, she burrowed into the slayer's brain and popped the tops on his memories so that all at once, he felt the impact of every horrible thing he'd ever done and every terrible act that had been perpetrated against him.
Lot of shit. Looooot of shit. He'd apparently had a thing for underage girls.
Well, wasn't this going to be satisfying on so many levels.
As he went down to the floor, he screamed and clutched his temples--like he had a chance in hell of stopping the deluge--and she let him suffer and wallow in his sins, his emotional grid lighting up in all the sectors that indicated fear and loathing and regret and hatred.
When he started to bang his skull against the dirty wallpaper, leaving a black stain where his ear was, she planted one and only one thought in his mind.
Planted it like an ivy streamer . . . a poison ivy streamer that would take hold and infiltrate and own his mental real estate.
"You know what you have to do," she said in a deep, warping voice. "You know the way out."
The slayer dropped his arms and revealed his wild eyes. Under the weight of what she'd released, and as a slave to the dictate she gave him, he grabbed the hilt of her dagger and ripped it out of his flesh.
Turning the point back toward himself, he double-gripped the weapon, his shoulders tensing as he prepared to send the blade on a rocking descent.
Xhex halted him, freezing him so she could kneel down right beside him. Going face-to-face, she looked into his eyes and hissed. "You don't go after what's mine. Now be a good boy and gut yourself."
A splatter of black blood hit her leather pants as the guy nailed himself right in the stomach and dragged the blade crosswise, making a nice messy hole of things.
And then on her mental command, even as his eyes were rolling back in his head, he withdrew the weapon and handed it to her hilt first.
"You're welcome," she muttered. Then she stabbed him in the heart and in a flash, he was gone.
As she pivoted around, the sole of her boot squeaked on the wet floor.
John was looking up at her with eyes that were not dissimilar to the slayer's, his stare peeled so wide he was showing no lid at all on the top or the bottom.
Xhex wiped her first blade on her leathers. "How bad are you?"
As John gave her a thumbs-up, A-OK, she realized the house was quiet and looked around. Everyone was still standing: Qhuinn was just straightening from a decapitation, and wheeling around to see if John was okay. And Rhage was coming in at a run from the kitchen with Vishous on his heels.
"Who's hit--" Rhage skidded to a halt and stared at the hole in John's leathers. "Man, three inches up and to the left and you'da been a soprano, buddy."