Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [77]
Dawn was approaching, but I knew exactly where I needed to go tomorrow night. Hopefully my grandfather’s name still carried some cachet, and they’d be able to get me in to see Tate again.
Still afraid of the lightning, I sprinted back to my car, my skin buzzing from the ozone in the air. I’d only managed to put the key in the lock when the barrel of a gun was pushed against my cheek.
“Hello, Merit,” McKetrick said pleasantly. “Long time, no see.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
HAPPINESS IS A WARM GUN
I looked down at the dark, cold steel now pointed at my chest. The weapon was longer and stockier than a handgun, closer in shape to a sawed-off shotgun with a single, wide barrel.
I glanced up. McKetrick smiled smugly. He was a handsome man, with short dark hair, sculpted cheekbones, and a body that wouldn’t quit. His eyes were wide and exotic-looking, but his mouth was twisted with cruelty—and there was a new scar across his upper lip that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen him.
“Hands in the air, please,” he pleasantly said.
For the second time in a night, I lifted my hands into the air. Ironic, wasn’t it, that I’d left my sword in the car so I wouldn’t scare off any humans? And here he was, pointing a gun at my chest.
“McKetrick,” I said by way of greeting. “Could you move that gun, please?”
“When it’s so effective at getting your attention? I don’t think so. And in case you have any thought of taking a shot for the good of the cause, we’re using a new variety of bullet. Something a little less iron-and-steel. Something a bit woodier. A new process that combines the shock of a bullet with the chemical reaction of aspen. It’s proven very effective.”
A chill ran through me. If he’d managed to turn aspen wood—the one thing that, shot through the heart of a vampire, would turn us to dust—into bullets, and he knew it was “effective,” how many vampires had died in the testing?
“Is that how you got the scar?” I wondered aloud.
His upper lip curled. “I am none of your concern.”
“You are when you’ve got a gun pointed at me,” I said, and mulled my options. Trying to knock the gun from his hand with a well-timed kick might be successful, but he was former military and undoubtedly skilled at hand-to-hand. Besides, the “might” carried a pretty high risk—that I’d take a sliver of aspen to the heart and end up a cone of ashes. There was also a pretty solid chance he had minions waiting in the wings with similar weapons.
There’d been too much death lately, so I quickly decided playing martyr wasn’t an option. Instead, I opted to gather what information I could.
“I’m surprised you’re out tonight,” I told him. “Shouldn’t you be warning folks about the apocalypse? Or maybe hanging out with the mayor? We saw you at the press conference.”
“She’s a woman with a plan for the city.”
“She’s a moron who’s easily manipulated.”
He smiled. “Your words, not mine. Although she has certainly proved receptive to my position on vampires.”
“So I’ve seen. I assume you’re one of the brains behind the registration law?”
“I’m not a fan,” he said.
“Really? It seemed like keeping close tabs on our activities would be right up your alley.”
“That’s only short-term thinking, Merit. If you allow supernatural aberrations to register themselves, you condone their existence.” He shook his head like a lecturing pastor. “No, thank you. That’s a step in the wrong direction.”
I wasn’t really eager to hear what McKetrick thought the “right direction” for the city might be, but he didn’t afford me the luxury of his silence.
“There’s only one solution for the city—cleaning it out. Ridding it of vampires. That solves the apocalypse problem. In order to clean up the city, we need a catalyst. If we rid the city of a vampire who’s known to the public, we might be able to make some headway.”
My stomach sank. McKetrick wasn’t just looking to kick vamps out of the city.
He wanted to exterminate them, starting with me.
With the gun pointed at me, I didn’t have a lot of options. I couldn’t grab my cell phone, and calling out for