Crimson Thirst (The Huntress Bane Book 2) by Derek Shupert

Author:Derek Shupert [Shupert, Derek]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-20T16:00:00+00:00

NINE

All I can do is acknowledge Lucian’s request. I don’t plan on dying out there.

Granted, here as of late, it would appear that I’m seeking out trouble in the worst way, when all I want is to try and save as many people as I can from the vampires.

It doesn’t really seem to matter if I avoid certain situations or not, trouble is always on the hunt for me. I’m cursed no matter what I do.

“Come on. This way,” Trevor beseeches me.

He’s over by the opened doors. His arm shifts to and fro in a manic fashion, motioning for me to hurry up.

Lucian walks forward with the rifle pressed firmly to his shoulder. He tells the guards to get up and move over toward their commander. I don’t give a final look back as I slip out of the building and into the expansive junkyard.

The morning sun creeps up over the horizon, erasing the grim darkness that has consumed the wastelands. Beams of light slice through the taller buildings around us, and hit my face. I hope this is a good sign of things to come.

Black Fields is known for having a permanent sort of gloom that hovers above the city. Seeing the sun’s gleam within the fortified walls is a nice change considering what has recently transpired.

I stand there for a moment, and take in the mounds of scraped metal and gutted vehicles that lay scattered over the grounds. A sectioned off portion to my right has an array of various vehicles parked along a tall, chain link fence that encompasses the outer perimeter.

Trevor is off to my right, messing with the motorcycle he had been working on. He grabs the handlebars and pulls the large bike toward him. He wheels it over and hands it off to me.

“I know she isn’t much to look at, but she runs.” He pats his hand on top of the midnight black gas tank. Rust spots dot the black frame, the reddish orange color sticking out like a sore thumb. I’m not overly concerned with the physical appearance. I just need the damn thing to run.

“As long as it runs well and doesn’t break down on me, then I’ll be happy,” I say. “The visual appeal is the least of my concerns.”

Trevor drops to one knee. “Oh, let me check something real quick.” He digs his hand inside the engine and messes with some of the parts.

I glance back toward the open doorway as strained voices, thick with angst, and heated confrontation loom from the garage. Leaving as I am doesn’t sit well with me. I hate the fact that the council has put me and others in such a tight spot that it has forced me to battle those who are on my side.

“All right. Should be good. Just wanted to make sure everything was holding up. Go ahead and fire her up,” Trevor says.

He stands up, takes a step back, and wipes his greasy fingers off on the front of his faded jeans.

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