Prologue
Rainey
Blood drips from the tips of my fingers, falling in droplets onto the wood under my feet. The sound should have been silent, but I can hear every bead slam into the floor as though it’s made of stone.
It mats my hair and slips down my forehead, crimson tears shed for a life lost entirely too soon. A soul ripped from this world by cowardly fucking thieves who stole away in the middle of the night with the only family I had left.
My muscles burn, my body aching from a fight I don’t remember having. A fight that resulted in deaths of things I don’t recall killing. I don’t even know if they’re human or monster.
Broken bodies cover the floor, pieces of whatever they were before the only things that remain. Fear grips me, nearly snuffing out my grief, if only for a moment as I look around at the damage.
The destruction.
I killed them all. I don’t even know how I got here. The last thing I remember is standing in an alley over the broken body of my sister. I don’t remember leaving, walking away from her. Yet, here I am, in a strange warehouse, in the center of chaos, my sobs and the fucking blood dripping onto the floor the only things I can hear.
Pain, unlike anything I’ve ever felt, suffocates me, and for the first time, I’ve lost the will to fight.
To stand.
There’s no one left to lead me home. No one left to walk me through what I’m supposed to do now.
I’m alone.
Completely and utterly alienated from a world I’ve only just begun to understand.
My sister will never smile again. Never binge cheesy movies while we pretend the fate of the world didn’t partially rest on our shoulders.
Delaney is dead. And as I sit here, at the epicenter of death, I can’t help but think it should have been me.
An anguished cry rips from my throat, my chest so fucking heavy I can barely breathe. My shoulders slump, shaking beneath the weight of my despair, and I fall forward, crumbling to the floor. I curl into myself and scream.
She’s gone.
1
Rainey
Death and I are old friends. We’ve cried together, laughed together. Basically, other than actually dying myself, I’ve been up close and personal with the Reaper more times than I can count. Tonight will be no different.
Music pumps through the speakers, filling the club with the steady thump of Imagine Dragons’ “Natural.” The air is thick, muggy, and I wish holding my breath for extended periods of time was among my talents. Sweaty bodies surround me, the stench nearly overwhelming due to my heightened sense of smell. Add to that the overapplication of body spray—by both males and females alike—and it’s safe to say that tonight has been one constant effort to fight the urge to hurl.
Typically, I try like hell to avoid places like this since my magnified senses make it damn near impossible to get in and out without getting nauseous. I can kill a monster with my bare hands, go home drenched in blood, but crowded rooms full of humans doing dumb shit? Count me the hell out. Unfortunately, it’s unavoidable this time.
Because tonight, I’m hunting. Somewhere in this club is a monster seeking prey. A predator who believes they’re the dominant species. I’m here to remind them that hunters like me are the apex of the food chain—even if there aren’t many of us left.
The strobe lights change from red to blue as the music switches to the fast tempo of a song I don’t actively recognize. People around me continue moving, their hips rotating to a new beat. Somewhere, a glass breaks, so I stop mid-step and try to focus.
“What the hell, dude?”
“Sorry, man, didn’t see you there.”
Since it’s nothing more than a human altercation, I continue moving through the crowd. I’m not here to police the humans. I’m here to hunt beasts. Soft moans reach me, and I stop again, turning in a slow circle toward the direction of the noise. Steady thumps follow, and I roll my eyes when my gaze finds a couple having sex against a far wall. Their gasps and moans reach me as though I’m standing directly in front of them rather than a good five feet away. He’s behind her, his back to me, hips thrusting as three onlookers—not including me—watch, their own pulses racing. I can hear those too—the thundering hearts of the aroused.
Of course, I’m not surprised. This club is notorious for both sex and drugs. It’s far enough on the outskirts of the city to be virtually invisible to city officials, which makes it prime hunting grounds for Creatures of the Night. Their own Council can’t be bothered by human deaths unless it’s followed up with an investigation that might lead the Norms to their door.
A man bumps into me, his hand reaching out and grabbing a handful of my breast through the leather of my jacket as he pretends to fall.
“Woah!” He removes his hand from my body and stares down at me, a lopsided smile on his face. “Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t see you there.” His eyes half close in a slow blink, showcasing just how drunk he is. Awesome. Nothing like having to handle a drunk douchebag.
His hair is buzzed so short I can see his scalp, and his eyes are circled with thick black eyeliner. Thin lips pull up into a wider smile as he studies me studying him. With fingernails painted black, he reaches forward and brushes my shoulder. “Haven’t seen you here before.”
I don’t reply right away as I try to figure out how to handle the asshat. I could break his fingers, dislocate his shoulder. My options are endless in a place like this. No one would see me. I’m fast, and my increased strength would make it damn near impossible for him to get away before it’s done.
The stranger leans down, and his hot, putrid breath washes over my face, making me want to hurl for a whole new reason. I’ll take the sweat combined with too-much-cologne stench over drunk asshole breath any day. “Wanna dance?” he asks, leaning back just enough that I can see a glimmer of hope in his dark eyes.
“Not on your life,” I shoot back and shrug away. A drunk human isn’t worth my time, not when each moment that passes could mean more blood spilled.
“Whatever, bitch,” he murmurs. Anyone else wouldn’t have heard him over the music, but I’m used to it. Being able to hear when no one thinks you can has been a burden I’ve carried nearly all my life. Everyone thinks they want to know how others view them. But trust me. When you’re a teenage girl trying to fit in—this is a horrible superpower to possess.
Someone steps on my foot, a woman who doesn’t even bother to show me an apologetic glance. Fucking Norms. Not that I mind humans at all. I rather enjoy the sober ones who don’t get hammered and high in one night. My best friend is a human who likes to joke she’s the weirdest of the bunch. I wish I could tell her just how wrong she is.
With a deep, calming breath, I continue pushing through the crowd until I reach the polished bar on the other side of the room. Hundreds of bottles line glass shelves arranged on a massive mirror mounted behind the bar. The dark wood of the bartop is gorgeous, smooth. The entire establishment is top-notch and is crawling with the city’s wealthiest drug and sex addicts. Guess that’s why they charge a hundred bucks a head to even come in here. Reaching down into the copper bowl before me, I grab a handful of peanuts.