Blood Claim by Laura Mykles (free e books to read .txt) 📕

the light, and by the time Cory was out of the protective circle, he was too high for the beast to do anything more than snap at where he'd once been. Against all Luke's self-preservation, he stepped out into the ring of light, just to call back to Cory, but Cory was already gone. The beast growled, a low, furious thing, and Luke stepped back inside, locking the door but leaving every light in the house on before retiring to the basement.

* * * *

Lathe frowned as Brutus slunk into the shadows back to the restaurant with his tail between his legs, metaphorically speaking. So Cory had gotten away. Lathe hadn't thought Cory would leave his lover. Or maybe he knew that Lathe had no interest in the other. From above, he heard the scraping of the suicide victim's shoes. He was suddenly hungry. Brutus waited for him down by the back door, dejected. “Go, find me a meal,” he said, and Brutus leapt to obey. The paths lit around the restaurant were full of stumbling drunks and people trying to sleep in the hollows of trees; Brutus would find one for him that would scream.

And Brutus didn't disappoint. The young man he herded toward the back door was young enough that the alcohol in his system still dulled the pain inside him, but it hadn't had enough exposure to do serious damage to his internal organs. Brutus herded him down the stairs before disappearing in the first of the sun's rays over the horizon. The human had fallen to the back of the storeroom, and Lathe smiled, licking his lips. It had been weeks since the last time he'd had the time to properly play with his food.

* * * *

Cory took to the sky. The sun was coming, and there was no protection against that. But while he flew, it no longer mattered, just for a little bit. He didn't need to be told that something horrible had gone down in his nest; the scorched earth by the gate and the dead yard full of plants was enough. He could smell Lathe everywhere.

And he was running out of time. He crossed the river again, going back downtown, and ducked into the deepest parking garage. He took on human form again when it was too difficult to fly low among the cars, and then walked the rest of the way down. B4 was the lowest level, and there was only one car there. He jumped up, becoming a bird again, and spent the day roosting up in the rafters.

It wasn't that Lathe had held him down; Cory had wanted it that way. But Lathe had played him, promising him one thing, while all the while opening him up for something else. He felt the changes inside him, and the fact that Lathe hadn't realized he'd become aware showed just how little regard Lathe had for him. And that made him burn with anger colder than the wind, yet perversely kept him warm through the day.

* * * *

The next evening, Luke pulled up in front of the restaurant, leaving his car's brights on. He got out of the car and leaned on the horn until the front door opened. Lathe stepped out, with the wolf at his feet. “So, you're him,” Lathe said. Brutus padded down the stairs to the grass, growling loud enough to send the sleeping birds in the trees to flight. Luke reached through the open window and clicked on his six-mile flashlight, the brightest flashlight he could find in the entire city. Brutus winked out of existence with a puff of smoke.

He lifted the beam up and straight into Lathe's eyes. Lathe fell back against the wall, covering his face. “Leave Cory alone,” Luke snapped.

"Cory belongs to me.” Lathe crossed his arms over his chest.

"You want something from this place,” Luke said. He kept the spotlight trained on Lathe, and in the bright white of the headlights he knew he was perfectly safe from Brutus. He took the steps up two at a time. “You had better find someone other than Cory, because I swear I will burn this place to the ground around you if you even so much as try to hurt him."

"I made him,” Lathe said, but didn't uncover his face.

Luke threw Lathe down the stairs to the hard, cold ground. He lashed out, one blow catching Lathe in the belly and another snapping Lathe's head back. “Don't even start,” Luke snarled.

Lathe held up his hands, then used his right one to cradle his belly. “You're not a killer, Luke. You're barely a threatener. If you weren't terrified for your precious placeholder's life, you wouldn't be here at all. So spare me your tough guy."

"My placeholder?” Luke asked.

"Come on. You might have turned him, but you didn't want him. Not really. Not truly.” Lathe grinned, wiping the blood from his mouth.

"You bastard,” Luke said softly. Lathe began to bow, but Luke brought up the flashlight faster than he thought possible. It whipped Lathe across the face, and when the metal hit, Luke heard the tinkling of broken teeth. Lathe's mouth exploded in blood. Luke kicked him again, reaching for the stake he had under his jacket, but before he could bring it out, Lathe was back up again, his fist over Luke's hand on the wooden stake, hard enough to break fingers. Lathe didn't waste any energy, but threw Luke back to his car and then pinned him by the throat to the hood. Luke kicked out, catching Lathe on the knee, and although he hit hard enough to hear bone crunch, Lathe didn't let him go.

The right side of his face was full of broken teeth, and flecks of them hit Luke in the mouth as Lathe laughed. “Pathetic. This is all you got? A Duracell commercial and a piece of white picket fence? You were going to take me out with this?” Lathe ripped open Luke's shirt, but Luke didn't