The hallway of the inn was a tomb. It smelled like mothballs and iron. I gripped a heavy brass lamp I'd ripped from the bedside table. It was my only weapon. Pathetic.
Janiella was behind me. She'd managed to throw on a shredded t-shirt and some lace panties. No pants. No time. Her chocolate skin was pale. Her blonde hair was matted with sweat. She looked like a car crash.
"Stay close," I whispered.
We moved toward the stairs. My bare feet felt the grime on the carpet. Sticky. I didn't want to know what it was. Every floorboard creaked like a gunshot.
Suddenly, a door to our left exploded.
A Deviant lunged. It was the hotel manager. Or it used to be. Now it was just a mass of bulging muscles and bulging eyes.
He was completely naked. His skin was the color of a wet sidewalk. He didn't scream. He made a clicking sound in the back of his throat. Devious.
He lunged for Janiella. He wanted the scent. He wanted the cure that was still fresh in her system.
I swung the lamp. It hit him in the temple with a satisfying crunch. He went down. But he didn't stay down. These things were fast. Erratically fast. He scrambled back up, his black claws scratching the wallpaper.
"Run!" I barked.
We hit the stairs. Below us, the lobby was a feeding frenzy. Two Deviants were huddled over the girl from the front desk.
They weren't just eating. They were tearing. They were obsessed with the texture of her skin.
One of them looked up. It was a woman. Her eyes were wide. Dilated. She saw me. Her nostrils flared. She let out a guttural moan.
She didn't want the girl anymore. She wanted me.
"Out the back!" I shoved Janiella toward the kitchen door.
We sprinted past the industrial stove. It was cold. Everything was dying. We burst out into the alleyway. The air hit me like a physical blow. The Golden Rain had left a film over everything. A thin, shimmering grease.
The alley was full of them. Dozens. They were all naked. They were all sniffing.
"Hex, there's too many!" Janiella screamed.
She was right. The city was a hive. And I was the honey. (haha).
I saw a delivery truck. The keys were still in the ignition. The driver was slumped over the wheel, his throat torn out.
"Get in!" I hauled Janiella toward the passenger door.
I ripped the dead driver out. He fell onto the asphalt with a wet thud. I jumped in. I cranked the engine. It roared to life. A miracle.
As I shifted into gear, a Deviant slammed into the windshield. It was a young girl. Maybe twenty. Her face was pressed against the glass. She was licking it. Her tongue was black. She looked desperate.
I didn't feel pity. I felt disgusted. I hit the wipers. They smeared her black saliva across my vision.
I floored it. The truck lurched forward. We cleared the alley. We were in the street.
"Where are we going?" Janiella asked. She was huddled in the seat. Her hands were over her mouth.
"Somewhere with a lock," I said. "And somewhere with food. I'm already feeling the drain."
My body felt heavy. Empty. Giving her that first dose had cost me. I could feel my biological clock ticking. Seven days. 168 hours. And then the girl next to me would turn into a monster again.
And I'd have to do it all over.