Chapter Twenty-Three: The Devil's Son
The wind began to howl early that afternoon, heralding an incoming storm. Ginger could hear the thunder roll in the distance, and the weather warnings from the radio barely touched her ears. Tornadoes were the least of her worries.
She tipped another bottle and let the liquid pour down her throat. She may not have known how to battle a vampire-warlock, but she was willing to bet her life on the fact he didn't know how to fight her either. She wasn't like any human he'd likely run across.
At least, that was what she was counting on.
She was sitting at the bar when Walter finally found her. He was an absolute wreck. "Ginger!" he admonished at once as he gathered her up in his arms. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Preparing for battle," she stated matter-of-fact. "Isn't that the idea?"
He glanced over her frame, from the tangled hair to the corset to the wrinkled skirt. "Looks like you've already been a few rounds."
She shrugged but didn't say anything, and she didn't look his direction.
The only thing that assured him at all was the fact she was drinking their water. Having left untouched the one he offered her before, he wondered if she had stopped drinking it purposefully in order to get close to the vampires.
He couldn't stomach the thought. "Ginger," he started as he touched her arm.
"I want you to go, Walter," she told him in the same dull monotone.
"Forget it," he said right away. "I'm not leaving you alone."
She turned her gaze on him then. A stubborn and unyielding gaze. "He'll never come for me if I'm not."
"You're crazy," he said. "You don't know how to deal with this thing."
"Nor do you," she pointed out. It was a gut call, but she knew by the look on his face she was right. But she also knew that if she wanted to get rid of him, she had to be straight with him. "Walter, this thing has a certain M.O. It goes after the people that both Constantine and Raven have... have been with."
He jumped on her hesitation. "But that couldn't have been you." He glanced down at the bottle in her hand. But then he took another look at her hair, her clothes, the very look in her eyes. Immediately he glanced at her neck.
"I'm clean," she told him as she glanced away. "It was a trap. I had no intention going any further than that."
He nodded but he didn't totally buy it. There was definitely something different about her. "So what next?"
"I wait for the Creature to come."
"And?"
She shrugged. "And I wing it from there. I have all the tools, you made sure of that."
He didn't buy it. She had a plan. She always had a plan. "Ginger..."
She turned to face him. "You have to go, Walter. With the storm, I expect him to get an early start."
He nodded. The oncoming storm looked to bring night to New Orleans early under a blanket of ominous black clouds. These types of storms were probably the reason so many vampires called the South home. They could move about freely, without any threat of the sun.
But he still didn't want to leave her.
He touched her face. Words hesitated on his lips that she couldn't allow to fall. She turned and left him standing alone at the bar.
She stepped out into the air charged with the energy from the approaching storm. Her hair whipped around her face and she hugged herself as she set out onto the street.
People stared as they drove past, on their way to anywhere but outside. Her shoes clattered against the cement as she moved farther away from the club. Thunder grew louder and lightning lit up the darkening sky as she walked past the one of the infamous cities of the dead; an above ground cemetery filled with ornate tombs and death.
It fit her mood.
Rain that began softly started to assault her like sharp needles, and pea sized hail targeted her like bullets. The streets cleared as people took to their places of shelter, but Ginger marched on, not even bothering to cover her head. The wind picked up speed and she could barely hear the thunder over the storm.
Yet she felt his presence. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she could almost feel his eyes travel over her frame as he studied her from behind. It wasn't just the storm that crackled in the air between them. It was his supernatural power as a vampire-warlock mixing with her altered chemistry from years of drinking the very thing that could kill him.
She had been right, she thought hopefully. The only thing left was to pray that he was far more interested in vengeance than self preservation.
Otherwise her intention to fuck him to death would never work.
She wasn't sure what she was expecting when she turned around to face him, but Argos looked far more degenerated than any other vampire she'd ever encountered, even when she was killing them. Her breath caught in her throat as she took it all in: the gray skin, the yellow teeth, the red, glowing eyes.
He wore a sick smile on thin skin that should have been lips as he stopped just within the circle of her aura. He was surprised how his body reacted so close to her, this familiar looking redhead who looked raw and delicious and surprisingly unafraid.
Maybe it was the storm, he thought as he stepped closer.
His bones hummed and what was left of his skin felt like a hundred needles dancing lightly over him.
She tipped her head high. "Argos," she said as she crossed her arms in front of her.
He gave a slight bow, a bit pleased not only that she called him by his name but that she did not seem disgusted by his appearance, nor afraid as he advanced.
He loved a challenge.
