The Path of Razors Read Online Free

Della and the others for allowing Violet outside when it was forbidden? And what might happen if Violet was caught by the intruders before the custodes could catch them?
    She used her mind to see if she could find Mrs. Jones or even Wolfie nearby, but both were out of range.
    No fear, Della. No fear.
    Anger took the place of all the empty, horrified places within Della, and she calmly shut off the water tap, knowing what she must do now, even without being told.
    How dare Violet put them all at risk.
    How dare she continue to try to hurt all of them.
    Believing that Wolfie and Mrs. Jones could not possibly blame her for taking this situation in hand, Della walked into the main room, where Polly and Noreen watched her. Then she went to the window, where she threw open the curtains to the coming dawn, which would bring a sun that didn’t hurt her kind unless the privilege of facing it was abused.
    All the while, rage kept the fear at bay: fear of punishment, fear of having this vampire life taken away when it was all she really had.
    Then Della closed her eyes and used an ability inherited from her creators.
    She thought about ravens, calling every bird within distance to her aid.

    THREE

    THE VAMPIRE HUNTERS

    Also Just Before Sunrise
     
    WHEN Costin punched the wall downstairs in the lab room of headquarters, he did it with a yell of rage that barely covered the crunch of his knuckles and the crash of plaster turning to dust.
    But the sound of his frustration was nothing next to the yell that pushed out of Dawn.
    “Costin!” She was near raw, pissed-off tears—she could feel them rising up—and that made her even angrier.
    She broke out of her shadowed corner, where she’d managed to find a slice of peace while the team debriefed about last night’s trip to Queenshill. As they’d traded observations and theories about the schoolgirl vampires who may or may not have been involved with a new Underground, Costin had gained enough strength to come out of his exhausted rest and emerge from the bedroom.
    When he’d entered the lab, he’d barely been restraining his agitation, but Dawn had seen the simmer under the ice-cool way he’d come to lean against the wall.
    She’d asked how he was doing, and he’d confessed that he’d been upstairs trying to expel Jonah, the entity he shared his body with. When that hadn’t worked, he’d attempted to escape his host altogether, even though he knew it wouldn’t be of any use because the days when he could leave this body to use his full powers were gone.
    As he’d relayed that, Costin had lost his composure, going for the wall before Dawn could even react.
    But now, after it was too late—and wasn’t that always the case?—she went to Costin and took his bloodied hand in hers.
    Yet it wasn’t like she could assuage him or anything. Jonah had permitted Costin, a Soul Traveler, to basically borrow his body: Jonah sheltered him, lent him physical form so Costin, who existed as an immaterial being, could complete his mission to win back his soul for good. But Jonah had gradually learned how to take over their shared body.
    Damn the guy, he’d learned real well, and it was tearing Costin into all kinds of pieces.
    The good news was that Costin was in control of his host right this minute, but Dawn suspected that was only because Jonah was biding his time until the whim to take over seized him again.
    The topaz gaze, which signaled Costin was in charge for now, burned feverishly, his dark hair slouching over his forehead, half shrouding his eyes while he watched Dawn inspecting his hand. She tried not to grimace at his bent, injured fingers.
    “I want him out,” Costin said, and to hear that kind of torture in The Voice—a deep, fingernails-over-bare-skin tone that had always held such great power over her—just about slayed Dawn.
    As if to balm her anguish, guilt seeped through her, silencing her. Over a year ago, she’d been the one who’d locked Costin into