Hard Bitten 4 by Neill Chloe

Author:Neill, Chloe [Neill, Chloe]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Vampires, Fantasy Fiction, Merit (Fictitious Character : Neill), Paranormal, Fiction, Chicago (Ill.), Fantasy, Occult Fiction, General, Occult & Supernatural
ISBN: 9780451233325
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2011-05-03T07:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE REVOLUTION WILL BE TELEVISED

“I saw it first,” said a vamp at the end of the bar with dreadlocks pushed back under a beret-style hat.

“I was reaching for it when you put your meaty hand out there,” said a second, a slender, brown-haired man wearing a dark T-shirt and khakis. They looked more like poetry-slam or coffeehouse guys than Temple Bar scrappers . . . until they began punching each other in the face.

“What the shit?” Lindsey exclaimed as I jumped around the bar to pull them apart. I grabbed T-shirt by his arm and yanked him backward. He stumbled a few feet before hitting the bar floor on his butt. Dreadlocks—still in the heat of passion—swung out at me—but I caught his fist and swung his arm around, leveraging his weight so that he went to his knees.

And then I looked into his eyes. His pupils were tiny, his silvered irises diamond-bright rings around them.

I muttered a curse. They were acting like the rave vamps had acted—trigger-happy and anger-prone—and they had the same enlarged irises. My stomach sank in warning, and I feared the worst. Was this the next stage of a vampire mass hysteria?

I gave Dreadlocks a shot to the neck that cut off some oxygen and put him out on the floor. Unfortunately, by the time I made it to my feet again, a dozen more vamps had succumbed to whatever ailed them. Furious fists and insults were hurled around, the vamps pounding at one another as if their lives—and not a cheap glass of cheaper alcohol—were on the line.

The irritation spread like a virus. Each vamp that lashed out and inadvertently bumped another started a second round, and the violence rippled through the crowd accordingly.

With no better option than to jump into the fray, I looked at Lindsey, shared a nod of agreement with her, and made my move. My goal wasn’t to win the fight, but to separate the fighters. I began by jumping between the two closest to me. I took a punch in the shoulder for my trouble, but managed to rip the two vamps away from each other. I tossed them in opposite directions and headed for the next pair.

Lindsey did the same, hopping over the bar—spilling the rainbow drinks in the process—and pulling vamps apart.

Unfortunately, they weren’t willing to go. Whatever had possessed them took them over, kept them raking their nails at one another, eager to continue a fight over nothing substantial.

Fortunately, the ones who weren’t affected—a handful of men and women that I’d seen around the House—helped us separate the contenders. We became a team. Fighting against our own, unfortunately, but still fighting for the good of the cause.

I appreciated the effort, even if it wasn’t enough. With each pair I separated, another seemed to pop up, until the swell of fighting vampires crashed through the door to the bar. Over the background roar of brawling, I could hear the nearing wail of sirens. Someone had called the cops about the fight.

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