The Shopgirl's Prophecy (Beasts of Vegas Book 1) (23 page)

Ali name hadn’t popped up in public records until her dad immigrated to Britain, that’s what Roz had said. When Ali was two. Had she lived with a pair of vampires for the first two years of her life?

Ignoring Connor, Irina loomed over Ali, a crone from a fairy tale. “After Prague, when the American soldiers brought you back to our village, I told your father to drown you, but he was weak. He kept you. And then he took you away in shame. As if he could hide you in the West.”

Ali tried to hold herself together by hugging her knees tight to her chest, but it wasn’t working. The thing inside her burst its seams. Energy crackled and swelled.

“You’re talking about your daughter,” Roz whispered, aghast.

“After what she did, I have no daughter.” Irina rounded on Connor. “Second question.”

Ali pressed her fingers into her eyes. Pain. She needed lots and lots of pain. She slammed her elbow into the wall. She did it again, harder. And again.

But it wasn’t working. She couldn’t catch her breath, it kept whistling in and out of her.

“Is Anya a vampire?” Connor asked.

“Who knows?” Irina said. “There’s never been anything like her before.”

The power within expanded by the second, burning Ali from the inside out. “Connor,” she hissed, pleading—no, begging—for help. Her skin tingled, beginning in her fingertips and toes, and then spreading. Her emotions unbuckled, burst, burning like alcohol through her veins.

Too late.

Everything around her grew silent and still. Roz spoke first. “Are you seeing this?”

No, no, no.

“Cover her, for God’s sake,” Irina exclaimed.

“She’s…
glowing
.”

An afghan fell over Ali’s head and shoulders. She squeezed into a ball and tried to pull it back in, but she couldn’t.

Not here.

“Leave now,” Irina shouted. “If anyone sees her, the demons will come.”

Hate for the old bitch only added fuel to Ali’s fire. Energy built, mixing with grief, fear, and shame. She was going to pop.

She threw off the afghan and stood. Her arms, face, and every part of her exposed skin glowed pink. The sight terrified her, and with that new rush of emotion, the color deepened. Not in her twenty-two years had she ever lost control this badly. Pain wasn’t going to be enough this time. She needed violence, and she needed it now.

“I can’t stop it!” Pressure built, doubling exponentially. She was going to burst. She screamed. “Hurt me, Connor! Hurt me!”

He hesitated.

Roz stepped around him, grabbed Ali by the shirt, and slugged her in the face.

Chapter Seventeen

Connor hated complications, and Alina Rusenko was one, big, messy complication that had burst into his life and exploded all over everything. The second he thought he had her figured out, she staggered him. Not only was she vampire bait, but she had a secret identity, a destiny, and she glowed like the fucking Fourth of July when she got her feelings hurt.

He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Ali glowed. He’d never seen anything like it before, never even heard of it happening. If he hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes…

Hurt me, Connor
. What the hell? Was that how she turned it off? Hurting herself? He glanced down at her head in his lap. She was still out cold, despite the fact that he’d carried her from Irina’s house in Boulder City and settled her comfortably in the truck. They were almost at the clinic in Henderson where he’d risen as a vampire, and she still hadn’t woken up. He’d be more worried if he hadn’t just seen her flush neon pink from her head to her feet. Who knew how long she’d be asleep? She’d thrown the rules out the window.

He picked a strand of yarn lint from her cheek. A souvenir from Irina’s afghan. There was no longer any doubt. Ali was Anya from Nadvirna. She glowed. Her mom had been infected while pregnant with her. And vampires had raised her for two years. Good God. It was a lot to take in. But they’d deal with it. Whatever she needed, he’d help. Because she wasn’t evil or a spy or a double agent. She was a girl in need of protection.

“Roz?”

She scowled at the road ahead, just as unsettled as he was by the light show at Irina’s. “Yeah?”

“You’re going to be nicer to her.” Because Ali was special in a hundred different ways, some he couldn’t grasp yet, and he needed her.

Roz laughed, an angry sound. “I am?”

“She means a lot to me.”

“You don’t even know her. How can you—”

“Rozlyn.”

She glanced at him, her eyes bright. “She’s dangerous.”

“She’s not in control of whatever that was. You, of all people, should be sympathetic.”

“I’m afraid she’s going to hurt you somehow,” she said, losing steam. “She could be a double agent. You heard Irina. She’s been mixed up with vampires since the day she was born.”

“She didn’t know,” he reminded her. “She was just as shocked as we were.”

“It could be an act.”

“You’re going to be nicer to her,” he pressed, dismissing her suspicions. “Because I care about her.”

Maybe after all this was over and Olek was dead, he wouldn’t step in front of a train. Maybe he’d find a way to live infected. Maybe even find a way to continue fighting the horde while saving the vampires like him.

Roz didn’t argue, just focused on the road. The clinic came into view, she pulled the truck to a stop, and Connor got out, careful not to jostle Ali more than necessary.

Julia and Maria had seemed a little freaked out about his infection. Just wait until they got a look at Ali’s mutation. The doc may close up shop and head home to Germany for good. He jogged across the yard wanting to explain the situation to the doctor before he brought in Ali.

Pop. The bullet hit Connor in the left shoulder, and he stumbled back a step from the jarring impact. Maria, the doc’s dark-haired assistant, stepped out of the building’s doorway pointing a pistol at him.

He stood there like a tree, his mind a total wasteland as to how to react. He’d never been shot before. He inspected the damage, surprised by the copious amounts of blood running down his chest and arm.

Two more shots went wild, and then a much louder bang as Roz fired a handgun into the air.

“Stop shooting him!” Roz screamed.

“Get in your truck and get the hell out of here! I’ve had enough of your kind,” Maria screamed back.

“Put your gun down,” Roz warned. “I’m a better shot than you!”

Wait, wait, wait
. Enough of his kind? Did she mean vampires?

Connor held up his right hand, palm out. “Have other infecteds been here?”

Maria waggled her pistol. “That son of a bitch Maksim Volk dropped by, yeah.”

His heart dropped a beat. The last time he’d seen that smug prick, he’d grinned as Connor bled to death. “What did he do?”

“He cut the doctor. But he wanted your friend, the blonde one. He had her ID card.” She tightened her grip on her weapon and aimed it square at his chest. “Now get the hell out of here. We don’t help vampires.”

Maksim Volk was looking for Ali. Olek, the Big Guy, was more than curious about her. Connor’s guts clenched. They had to hide and re-group. Because nothing and no one was going to hurt Ali.

As if from a fogbank, Roz appeared, her weapon tucked into the waistband of her khakis. She slid under his good arm, and together they shuffled to the truck.

“Sit in the back,” Roz ordered.

Ali was in the front, and she needed him. “No.”

“Don’t screw with me right now.” Her voice bordered on hysterical. She’d had enough with the crazy stuff, that much was obvious. But he wasn’t leaving Ali alone just to make Roz feel better.

“I said no.” He pulled his arm away, though it hurt like hell and warm blood dribbled anew down his chest.

He knew what she was worried about. His tainted blood. So, he dug a fleece-lined raincoat from the truck bed and zipped it on, shielding the world from his dirty blood, but the movement caused more bleeding. Was there an artery in his shoulder? Because though the wound didn’t spurt, it flowed like a little river. Too much.

It took him an abnormally long time to get into the truck and lift Ali’s upper body onto his lap. Roz ran around, jumped in, and flipped Maria the middle finger before whipping the Ford back onto the road.

Immediately, Roz’s cell phone chirped. One-handed, she checked the screen. “No,” she groaned. “Not now.”

“What is it?” Connor tried to blink away the haze around the edges of his vision, but it didn’t help.

“Anton found Volk on satellite and video feeds,” Roz said.

“He was in Vegas?” Connor guessed. It was the only thing that would scare her this badly.

“Worse,” Roz said. “He was in our hotel room.”

#

Waking up was like rising from the bottom of the sea. Consciousness returned slowly, coupled with pain. Ali’s face hurt.

“Ow.” Her head lay in someone’s lap, her legs curled around a gearshift. She opened her eyes and found Connor staring down at her, his brows drawn together. Very gently, he brushed a strand of hair behind her right ear.

It all came back in a rush—the story about her mother, her wretched grandmother, doing her best impression of a shooting star. In front of people. Oh, God. She couldn’t think of a time when she’d felt so humiliated. No one knew her secret.
No one
. Her father made sure, beating the emotion right out of her at a young age and, in a roundabout way, teaching her control. She hadn’t glowed in years.

Her stomach flip-flopped. Her dad would kill her. Her secret was supposed to be just that. Forever and ever. It’s why he made her wear long sleeves, fluffy scarves, and leggings under her skirts, so even if she slipped up and glowed a little, not much would show. She never slipped up. She was a good, obedient daughter.

The last time had been in school, for crying out loud, when the total douche bag Cutter had played his trick. Cutter. God, what a ridiculous name. What were his parents thinking? And how had he gotten so cool, anyway? But he had. Cruel, gorgeous, and popular. Did they come any other way?

When he’d caught up to her before school and shyly admitted he liked her and wanted to take her out, she’d been suspicious, but also secretly elated. She was a quiet nobody, but he was charming, handsome, and dated girls who looked like swimwear models. She’d spent half the morning in a daydream.

Later, in the girls’ bathroom, one of his pretty followers had broken ranks and cornered her. In a whisper, she confessed it was all a big joke. Cutter was proving his masculinity, or some shit like that. He’d made a bet about sleeping with a certain number of dorky girls in an agreed upon time frame. They’d made a list.

Ali wasn’t desirable. She was a punch line.

Despite knowing the chance that the almighty Cutter actually liked her were zero, it had hurt. She didn’t score a lot of attention from boys, not in school. She was too shy, too weird. That brief flirty encounter on the school steps had meant more than it should. Her heart broke, not only over Cutter, but for all the boys who would never love her.

She’d barely made it into a stall before the first sob broke, lighting her up like a firework.

“How are you feeling?” Connor asked.

“Better.” The discharge had been cathartic, releasing a ton of pressure from behind her ribs. Ali could breathe again, and she wasn’t going to burst every time a sad thought crossed her mind. Her power was tucked safely back in its vessel.

The humiliation factor was a different matter. She struggled to sit, swatting at his hands. “I’m not an invalid.” She said it meaner than necessary.

“Then what are you?” Roz asked sharply.

Ali cleared her throat, messing with her hair. Great. It was matted in the back and standing up in weird places.

“A normal person,” Ali grumbled. Lame. No one in their right mind would consider her normal. Not after seeing her skin glow. “That woman was horrible. I freaked out a little.” Understatement.

A vampire had infected her mother. Her mom hadn’t bled to death in Odessa. She’d run away, abandoned her husband, to be with some hot vampire. And Connor knew every sordid detail. Her mom was skanky for vamps and Ali had freak blood inside her, which occasionally broke loose and glowed pink. Oh, what he must be thinking. So long, heated looks. See you later, near kisses. Bye-bye, chemistry. He’d look at her like a blob of mud from there on out. If he looked at her at all.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Roz said. “And I specialize in weirdness. I’ve read about fire-starters, indestructibles, shifters, you name it, but I’ve never heard of anyone doing that before.”

To be blunt, it was none of the witch’s goddamned business. The weird energy part was a small percentage of her whole personality. It had worsened after the bus crash and her uncle’s murder because her nerves were so frayed. But, on an average day, it didn’t even cross her mind. The power remained in its imaginary box behind her ribs, and she went about her business. No problem.

Except it had escaped. In public. Ugh. Ali ducked her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything about my, um, issue.”

“It’s happened before?” Roz exclaimed. “And you didn’t think to warn us?”

“It doesn’t happen anymore,” Ali said. “Well, I thought it didn’t.”

Connor slipped his arm across Ali’s shoulders, pulling her attention back to him. A pity hug. The kind you give the ugly girl after she’s teased at school.
There, there
.

“What was it?” His touch, though, did things to her. Twisted her insides and confused her emotions. His touch made her feel anything but ugly.

“Nothing. A power surge.”

“But normal people don’t have those.” And there it was. Her ‘normal person’ card had just been irretrievably revoked.

“Thanks a lot.”

“That’s not what I—”

The truck hit a pothole, bouncing Ali into Connor’s shoulder. He winced, and she jumped to keep her distance. To protect him from her weirdness.

“It’s okay.” She waved away his apology. She wasn’t prepared to deal with this right now. “When I was a kid it happened more often, but I learned to control it.” A pretty euphemism. Her dad taught her to control it by beating the crap out of her until the glow went away. And somewhere along the way, pain had got all mixed up with the surges. All she knew was pain made it stop. “It’s no big deal, really. It only happens when my emotions go haywire. I’m fine now.”