Harold’s days of hurting people, and apparently animals too, are over.
That feeling, the heat crawling up my back, follows me as I stalk toward him.
This time, however, I don’t look over my shoulder. My long strides have already carried me far enough into the alley that no passerby can see us, especially with both Harold and me dressed in dark clothes.
“Gonna get ya,” he keeps growling at the cat, punching at the air.
The cat isn’t deterred. It just glares at Harold as if it, too, understands it’s dealing with a moron. I pull the hood of my hoodie over my head, smirking as I do.
“G-g-gonna…” Harold stumbles against the dumpster, then slides down, about to hit the ground.
While he tumbles, groaning like the pathetic sack of shit he is, his phone slips from his pocket. Good thing that he’s drunk, since he doesn’t notice me approach and crush his phone under my shoe.
I kick what’s left of it under the dumpster and move on to him. Hooking an arm around his waist, I hoist him up.
“Come here, buddy.” Pretending I’m his friend is a necessary evil. My stomach revolts regardless. “Let’s get you home.”
“Who…the fuck…” The alcohol slows his thoughts, his instincts. Harold leans all his weight on me instead of running like he should. “You…”
“Your friend, remember?” Using my free hand, I search for the spot on his neck that I know will make him pass out. “You called me. Asked me to come get you.”
Found it.
“I did?” Even in the dark alley, the confusion in his eyes is clear.
“Yes.” I lower my voice and bring my face close to his, ignoring his foul breath. “The third time you hurt your mother so badly she had to be admitted to trauma again. That’s when youcalled.”
“You…” His growl ends in a burp. Disgusting. “You’re that doctor asking too many fucking questions.”
“That’s the one.” I’m done talking to him, pressing two fingers to his neck, hard. “Buddy.”
In an instant, his body goes slack, eyes rolling back in his head.
Three…two…one…
And his eyelids flutter shut.
All that’s left for me to do is sling his arm over my shoulder and carry him home.
Like any good friend would.
9
LILITH
Oh, no.
Oh. No.
The same two words circle in my head as I stalk Alaric down the street.
He and the unconscious stranger slung over his shoulder.
The sight turns my stomach. A sour taste fills my mouth.
Earlier this evening, I thought life was perfect.
The sexy, all-too-short time Alaric and I spent in the supply closet had been the highlight of my entire existence.