Wicked
Page 31

Ren didn't respond.
I glanced at him quickly. His gaze was trained ahead also, but that grin had faded like a ghost. "You have a problem with that?"
"Nope," he replied, surprising me. "But I think we might have a problem up ahead."
The crowd had grown in the last couple of seconds. You saw a lot of strange things on Bourbon. People wore wings. Some people walked around in nothing but body paint and tiny shorts. Others dressed like vampires that crawled out of an Anne Rice novel. If you were naive enough to try and snap a picture of them, they expected you to pay. Then there were the tourists who couldn't handle all the decadent indulgence and passed out wherever they stood. There was also the sad, random violence that  infested the city and had nothing to do with the fae—simply humans hurting other humans for no real reason. So as we neared the group of people, a mixture of tourists and locals, it really was anyone's guess.
Stepping off the curb, I walked around a parked truck attempting to unload full kegs for a nearby bar. Ren followed me as I made my way onto a street so packed with people it was almost impossible for a car to make it down a block in a timely manner . . . or without clipping a few pedestrians.
I edged around the horde of bystanders, aware of the strained laughter of some and the growing sense of unease that seemed to be hopping from one person to another. Something was most definitely going down at the corner of Bourbon and Phillip.
Over the drifty jazz music spilling out from the bars, a shrill sound erupted from whatever the crowd was blocking from our view, sending chills down my spine. A cross between a shriek of pain and one of rage, it was an inhuman scream.
"That's doesn't sound normal," murmured Ren, his hand closest to me moving to his side.
Pushing through the crowd, I ignored the sharp looks directed at me. Ren was right beside me, clearing a much larger path. A guy in front of us stepped to the side, and I caught a glimpse of disheveled brown hair and a hunched over, broken form, and then the man was shaking his head as he turned.
"Man, crack is a powerful drug," he muttered, scratching at the black beard along his chin. "Bitch done lost her—"
The eerie howl drowned out whatever he was saying. All I saw was the brown hair, matted and greasy, charging forward. The thing leaped like a damn cat from several feet behind the man. It landed on his back, screaming that horrible sound as it wrapped scrawny, dirt-covered arms around his shoulders. The legs were the same, filthy and scuffed, poking out from a torn skirt. It was a female—a rabid female.
And I had a sick suspicion she wasn't on drugs.
The woman threw her head back and howled as the man grabbed her arms, staggering to the side. People scattered, giving them a wide berth as the man struggled to get the woman off his back. Someone shouted for the police.
Heart pounding, I launched myself forward as Ren did the same. My stomach sunk when I realized there was no reaching them in time. The woman dived for the man's exposed neck, her mouth wide open.
Shit.
The man's pain-filled screams blasted us as her blunt teeth tore into the side of his neck. Other shouts joined in as the crowd realized what was happening. People started running in all directions, dispersing like dropped marbles. Deep crimson sprayed out from his neck as the man stumbled, falling onto one knee. He couldn't shake the woman, and she was still gnawing at him like some kind of freaking Resident Evil zombie.
I reached them first.
Grabbing a handful of tangled hair with one hand, I reached under her head with my other hand and gripped her jaw. I pressed with my fingers until she let go, then hauled her crazy ass back.
Blood spurted once and then twice before pouring down the front of the man's shirt as he fell forward onto his side. Ren was right there, dropping to the ground beside the fallen man, placing his hands tightly over his torn neck. He didn't hesitate for a second, didn't even check to see if I could get the woman under control. He trusted that I would.
"You're going to be okay, man. Just hang in there," Ren said, lifting his chin toward the shocked cluster of people. "Someone better be on the phone with 911."
The woman was going nuts, arms flailing and fingers clawing at the air. Red smeared her mouth and her chin. She was a gory mess, and I knew the minute I let her go, she was going to come after me.
I did just that.
Releasing her nasty hair, I backed away as she spun on me. She let out another scream that hurt my ears before she lurched forward.
I stepped into her attack, planting one hand on her shoulder as I cut her under the chin with the other, snapping her head back. She went down like a bag of rocks, alive but out cold.
Sirens whirled in the distance as I drew in a ragged breath and checked out Ren. He still had his hands on the man's neck, but the poor guy was turning a ghastly shade under his dark skin, and the entire length of his shirt was covered in blood. He wasn't looking good.
Suddenly Val was there, pushing through the crowd, her eyes flicking from Ren to me and then the woman sprawled on the street. "What in the hell?"
"She took a bite out of that guy," I said, swallowing hard as Ren kept talking to the man who now appeared unresponsive.
Val's teal green skirt billowed out around her as she kneeled next to the woman. "Good God," she said, reaching out and gripping the woman's shirt. The green and yellow bangles circling Val's arm jangled as she tugged the collar down. "Damn it."
There it was, proof that this was no case of drug use gone really bad.