Blood and Hexes (After Darkness Falls #4) - May Sage Page 0,1

piss your pants.”

“All right, you can let him go,” the bartender said evenly, holding both of his hands up in a placating gesture.

His protective instincts had switched from her to the boy, now that he knew what she was. Diana released his neck. She’d made her point. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be bothering another girl any time soon.

She grabbed her jacket and got out of the club, bursting into the misty, darkening gray London air.

She’d picked the well-presented Leicester Square establishment at random, simply because it was close to the meeting place Juniper had selected.

Diana had met Juniper Marshalls some two hundred years ago, in South America. They weren’t close friends, but when they were in the same city, they tried to meet for a drink and catch up. Diana liked the other vampire; she was fun to be around, and didn’t take life too seriously.

She liked the rest of Juniper’s coven far less, however. Juniper had been turned by a sire who liked to keep all his children around him, in a way Diana had found too controlling for her liking. Juniper didn’t seem to chafe under his leash, and they weren’t close enough for Diana to have broached the subject, although she made no secret of her dislike for the man.

Arlo Shaws was a smooth-talking, sophisticated vampire who had never been anything but charming. To her. Because he was too smart to antagonize a Helsing twice his age. During their few interactions, he’d made her skin crawl, treating his subordinates like they were solider ants whose sole purpose in life was to serve him.

Diana knew Juniper slept with him. If she wasn’t mistaken, he also had sex with Willow and Kenya, the two other females he’d sired. It wasn’t unheard of for a sire and their fledgling to have a relationship. Hell, it wasn’t even unusual. Typically, vampires turned people they cared about—their friends or lovers. But with Arlo, it seemed like he’d chosen a harem, rather than companions. The five males he’d turned were all strong enough to be adequate guards, but not so dominant as to pose a threat to his rule.

The entire thing stank. Diana had hesitated to reach out to Juniper at all, but her flight was at ten in the morning the next day, and she’d known it would be impossible for her to sleep the night before her return to Oldcrest.

There were other people she could have contacted, but she enjoyed Juniper’s company. She’d decided not to let Arlo win this round.

Diana looked down at her watch. Ten. She had half an hour to kill. Instead of finding refuge in another bar—she didn’t think she could deal with another sleazebag tonight—she made her way to the meeting point, a few streets down, near Piccadilly Circus. Tourists flocked to the central Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain, taking selfies with its well-known statue of Anteros at any hour of the day. Instead, she’d picked the less-appreciated Horses of Helios—a bronze sculpture of four wild galloping horses. She’d never seen them in person before. They’d been commissioned about two hundred years ago, in the twentieth century of the last era. The pictures had intrigued her, and in person, the sculpture didn’t disappoint. It was even more evocative. The horses looked like they might suddenly burst out of the water and gallop through the evening sky, if their master would only call them.

Diana hopped on the fountain, just as it started to rain. She pulled out her phone and angled it for a selfie, but she couldn’t catch all four horses in the shot. She liked pictures, mementos, and memories, good and bad—but that didn’t mean she was a good photographer. Dejected over her lack of skills, she pouted and stuffed the phone back inside her green leather jacket, then lifted her head to look at the sky.

The rain didn’t bother her, but she’d dressed appropriately to fit in with the rest of the Londoners and tourists. Well, as appropriately as she could. She wore boots, skinny jeans, leather. She drew the line at carrying an umbrella.

Diana generally wore boots if she could get away with it. The ones she had on today were made of a patchwork of leather—green, red, orange, purple, each embossed with different motifs. One of her favorite pairs. These babies, and her jacket's long tassels with wood beads dangling at the uneven edges, made it impossible for her to truly blend in anywhere. So what if she found this century’s idea of fashion boring?