Free Blue Bloods: Keys to the Repository by Melissa de la Cruz

Visitor had taught her that. She heard a clock tick, the sound of a hook grinding
    against a chain, heard the soft click of claws against the concrete—the beast, stirring . . . and then there, barely perceptible, was the sound of breathing. There was someone else in the room, someone other than the creature. But where? And who?
    The horrible clicking grew louder, and Bliss heard a snarl, deep and primeval and vicious, and then the sound of breathing became louder, more
    desperate—suddenly a scream from beyond the doorway. Bliss leapt from her hiding place and ran toward it.
    Clang!
    A knife fel to the floor. She swiveled in its direction, then stopped. The knife was a ruse, a distraction. The beast was behind her now; it was
    trying to steer her away from the door. She could see it watching her from the shadows, its crimson eyes staring at her baleful y. Did it think she was
    stupid? She might not have her vampire abilities anymore, but that didn’t mean she was completely useless. She was stil fast. She was stil
    coordinated. She had the speed and skil of an athlete.
    The beast snorted and raked its claws across the concrete. It was angry and getting ready to jump. Bliss figured it was now or never. She pushed
    her way toward the open door, clambering onto a table and spraying a dozen knives across the room. The beast leapt but she was faster, and when
    she reached the oversized steel door, she grabbed the handle and, using its weight as a pivot, swung around so that she pul ed it closed behind her.
    The freezer slammed shut with a thick, wet sucking sound that made her wonder if this had been a good idea. How much air was in here? No time to
    worry about that now. She grabbed a knife hanging on the wal and jammed the lock closed.
    She could hear the creature throwing its weight against the bolted door, making the archway shake. It was larger and more dangerous than she
    had thought. Tame the hounds? She would be lucky if she got out of here alive.
    She looked around. There were a dozen or so carcasses hanging from the ceiling. The air was rancid, metal ic. She pushed her way through the
    animal corpses to the back of the freezer, toward the sound of ragged breathing.
    On the floor of the meat locker lay a boy, no older than she was, chained to the back wal . Next to him were a cutting board and a band saw. A
    meat hook swung above his head, crusted with blood and rust. The tiled wal s were splattered a deep shade of scarlet. The boy’s skin was blue, his
    hair caked with filth . . . there were ugly red marks around his wrists and neck, where he was bound with heavy iron shackles. Dear God, what was
    going on here? Bliss wondered, her stomach churning. . . .
    The beast couldn’t have done this alone. There was something else going on. Bliss shivered, goose bumps appearing on her skin. Now that she
    wasn’t a vampire, her body did not control its temperature as wel as it used to. But was it fear or the cold that had caused the rows of tiny bumps?
    For the first time in her journey, Bliss wondered if she was in over her head.
    She bent down to touch the boy’s face. It was stil warm at least. She placed a tender hand on his bony shoulder. “You are going to be okay,” she
    told him, and wondered if she was also consoling herself.
    “Yes, but you’re not.” His eyes came alive, and before Bliss could blink, the boy had wrapped his fist around her neck and pinned her to the floor,
    locking his knees against her waist and keeping her arms away from her body. His shackles, Bliss could see now, had not been locked.
    “Who are you?” she asked, spitting out the words with difficulty, recoiling from the boy’s grip around her neck. She wondered if she could reach
    into her jean pocket to stab him with the hidden blade she always kept there.
    “I think the correct question is, who are you? You’re in our territory.” His voice was low and musical, friendly.
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “We don’t like