Fae of the South (Court of Crown and Compass Book 3) by E. Hall (good books to read in english TXT) 📗

is except for the thunder of blood in my ears. I’ve fought on mats and on the streets a few times. Usually, even the toughest opponent breathes heavily.

I twist, trying to confirm my fear. But all I get is a glimpse of a dark pair of eyes before the world as I know it disappears with two deep pulses of pain on my neck.

Then there’s nothing for one dark moment.

The vague memories of once breaking my collarbone and another time I had to get a cavity drilled float into my mind. Both were unpleasant, painful. They’re abstract as though belonging to someone else. They’re nothing to the burning agony I suddenly experience now.

My muscles go rigid and then shake. I want to escape the aching in my bones. My skin burns with a searing kind of pain I’ve never known. There is no getting away from it. I steel myself, ready to die. I’m not granted that pardon.

I grind my teeth, bearing down, writhing on the floor, an animal torn apart from inside. My blood boils. Behind my eyes are flames, smoke, a night so dark I’m certain I’ll never again see light.

My thoughts work their way backward in time. Work, Lamborghini, driving, slaying demons, pie...Lea, no texts, no calls, sending her food, the news reports about a young Brooklyn resident killing two people by the canals. I knocked on her door for an hour, knowing she was there. No sign of Ivan. No answers. More worry.

Then home. My surroundings come into focus and overlap with another memory from last year.

The modern leather couch. A glass coffee table. Wide windows without curtains. Edges, metal, and stone make up both the foundational materials and the accents in the apartment. A family photo of my mother, father, and two brothers hangs on the wall.

I’m taken back to that night. I’d stayed late at school. The sun had set in Brooklyn. The apartment I’d grown up in was dark when I got home. I knew it well enough not to bump into anything. I called, “Mom, Dad.” No answer.

Usually, the aromatic smells of dinner cooking greeted me, but I’d thought maybe my parents had gone out to eat and I’d forgotten about their plans.

As I moved into the apartment, I’d stepped on something that didn’t belong. It was wrong. Soft. Mushy. Barely warm.

I flicked on the light.

The lumpy outline of a crocheted blanket was on the couch where it always was because my mother was cold even in the summer. The sketches of hibiscus hung on the wall. Brass candleholders with little star cutouts dangled above the dining table. Books, photo albums, coffee mugs, the newspaper. Everything was where it belonged.

But my parents were both lying face down on the floor. Red stained the beige carpet. They weren’t supposed to be there like that. Bite marks marred their necks.

My backpack fell to the floor. I let out a cry as I do now, wishing away the moment. I knew what had happened just as I know what happened to me moments ago. Only, the vampire that attacked my parents drained their blood while this one turned me.

When I’d found my mom and dad, I immediately called the police and then crossed the living room to my bedroom. The door stuck as usual. I kicked it open as anger and sadness fought inside of me. A riot of posters covered the walls and I tore at them before collapsing onto my bed.

Lea found me. Told Ivan. Later, she said he took care of the vampires that killed my parents—they no longer existed. But I was an orphaned teenager with two older brothers who’d already been on their way out of our lives. I was alone.

I’m now no different than the monsters who killed them.

Staggering to my feet, I knock into the desk and dresser in my room—the one without the posters on the walls. My parents had masterminded a plan to retire early and paid off all of their debts, including the mortgage on the apartment.

I smash into my bookshelf, scattering everything to the floor. In the mirror behind the bedroom door, my eyes are as dark as the ones belonging to the vampire who bit me, turned me. As I pass the mirror, my expression is grim.

My fist hits the glass and it fractures. I don’t want to see my reflection. I hate what I’ve suddenly become.

What feels like a tight fist grips the center of my chest. I clasp my neck as the last of whatever made me human leaves my body.

Then the thirst comes.

There is only instinct. Without thinking, I crash down the familiar hallway, down ten flights of stairs, and outside.

My bones ache, my muscles burn, and my blood feels solid in my veins. I steady myself on the doorframe as I take in the outdoor air. I’m not sure that I’m breathing, but I do detect the river, something sulfuric, and above it all the scent of blood. Like discerning the difference between a pie baking and a tray of cookies, I make out human blood, fae blood, and other supernaturals. My instincts hone in on all of the things I was skeptical about even though I’d seen the horror of what vampires, and now demons, do in real life. I wasn’t quite convinced the rest of it was real. Turns out it is.

Music filters from a passing car. In the distance, a dog barks and people laugh as they exit a club. Even farther away, I pick up the scent of something delightfully familiar. It’s from my previous life and fills me with longing, but my desire for human blood overpowers all other thoughts. Every nerve in my body fires with ferocity.

Perfume wafts to me on the breeze. A woman struts toward me wearing a tight green dress. Two others, both