by Tina Moss
A female vampire, lean and lethal, stepped forward. Her eyes, hair, leather jacket and skintight ensemble all shared the same shade of perfect black. Dried blood caked one side of her head, matting the hair to her scalp. The sight only made her appear more dangerous.
Talon growled, stopping ten feet shy of her. Any closer and he might strike.
“Easy shifter. Let’s not start that again. She called us.” Drake muttered the warning, but no doubt, the vamp heard it as well. She didn’t come near.
“My dear special agent, how nice to meet you at last.” She nodded her head a fraction of an inch. “Drake, do not be rude. Introduce us.”
The blood swam in Talon’s veins like ice water. The sudden change from raging fire to this extreme cold left him numb. The female vamp’s melodic voice reminded him of a single piano chord in an empty room. The sound didn’t affect him as much as the implication in her greeting. He gritted his teeth, eyeing Drake, and choked out a question. “How do you know her?”
“Talon, this is Strife. She is the leader of Veritas on this side of the globe.” He motioned in her direction and shrugged. “She’s over three hundred years old. There are few vampires who don’t know her.”
“Tsk. Tsk.” Her finger sprang up, wiggling as if to reprimand a child. “It’s unkind to reveal a female’s age. And you sorely understate our relationship.” She clapped. “No matter. We’ve more important things to discuss.”
“Indeed,” Drake said. “If you wouldn’t mind, the PCD is eager to learn of the girl’s whereabouts.” He cast a glance up and down the vacant street. “It’d be in your favor to give us the details.”
Talon noted how his “buddy” skirted around the issue of how well he knew the other vamp. The omission caused his nose to twitch. He couldn’t smell lies, but it didn’t stop his senses from going wild. PCD’s civilian vampire liaison and “friend” stunk like a rat—or a double agent. Drake’s stoic gaze revealed nothing.
“As you wish,” Strife said. Her head leaned back against a convenient store’s brick wall. With eyes half closed, she zeroed in on Talon. “Special Agent Talon Rede, not yet in your third decade of life.” She cocked her hip to the side. “Did you know a vampire can live thousands of years? Thousands. And still, I am already considered old.” Her voice fell, a hint of sorrow resonating. “So many of us fall before our time. You’ve no idea the dangers you face.”
Drake took a step forward as if to interrupt her, but she stopped him short with an arctic glare. A silver splash of moonlight lit the street. It drew her gaze as she beamed at the waning moon like an old friend. She inhaled. “I’ve allowed my thoughts to wander. We have other matters to discuss. Let me say this simply.” Her chin dropped and her face fell into a neutral expression. “I am of Veritas and though, we are more experienced than your PCD, we are not enemies. Yet you seem to think us so.” The air grew thin. Her voice rose. “Veritas has existed since the dawn of creation. Since the birth of vampires and shifters, psyke and,” she paused with a frown, “And phage.”
A sharp intake of air hissed between Talon’s teeth. He couldn’t help the breath any more than the tingling sensations in his body. All of his instincts went on red alert. Willpower and a burning curiosity stayed his feet to the floor. “What do you know about phage?”
“A helluva lot more than you.” She laughed. Her language dropped that strange cadence and flowed now in modern speech. “You’ve no clue what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“Enough of the games.” Talon lunged forward. His hands stretched like claws. The urge to shake the vamp into talking sense overwhelmed everything else. He stopped before reaching her throat.
Strife didn’t move. Her face a bland mask, almost bored, or waiting to see what he’d do next.
A breeze drifted down the street and with it time stilled. Talon sniffed the wind, still poised to attack. His hands fell away as he crouched down. Taking in large gulps of air, he stiffened. “Sun dried clothes, a hint of apple—Sera.”
“She’s safe,” Strife whispered, her tone taking on a soothing melody. “I was injured and couldn’t follow, but I’ve no doubt she’s already handled our attackers.” She reached a tentative hand toward him, but pulled back when his lips stretched over his front teeth in a growl. She continued untroubled, “We were trying to get her to the airport to take her some place safe. A group of phage blindsided our van with an explosive device.” She pointed at the dried blood on her head. “You need to get her out of here. Phoenix is not safe for her.”
A wave of nausea hit full force. He pictured Sera lying on the pavement, her body broken and bloody. He clamped down the bile. “Where is she?”
“You do not understand.” The striking piano chord returned to her voice. “I must tell you more about these creatures, first. You do not know their capabilities.”
He stood up. His fists tightened at his side. “I’ll ask you one more time,” he said, fighting back the rage. Panic gripped him hard. Fear for his—no, not his. He needed to remember Sera didn’t belong to him. Yet his instincts screamed otherwise. He rallied on the vamp. “If you don’t give me an answer, I’ll rip out your throat.”
Drake moved without sound, wrapping Talon around the waist in a deadlocked grip. “Easy,” he warned.
“It is unnecessary,” Strife said, batting at Drake’s arms. “Release him. He worries for the girl. Let him go to her.”
The hold on him slackened as Drake loosened the pressure. Talon slammed an elbow backward, catching the traitorous bastard in the ribs. “Don’t fucking touch me.” He threw the words over his shoulder, not sparing a glance. His attention remained fixed on Strife. “Where is she?”
“She ran off that way. Several of them were at her heels.” She pointed east. “But I don’t think you have to be concerned. Sera’s quite capable of defending herself.” A hum played on her lips. “In fact, I’d be careful when you approach her. She may mistake you for the enemy.”
“Thanks for the tip,” he said, spinning on his heel and ignoring the implications of Strife’s words. He fisted a handful of Drake’s shirt and yanked him forward. “I’m calling in the team. You and that creature over there better be here when they arrive.” He shoved the stunned vamp. Drake staggered two steps before catching his balance.
Talon didn’t waste another second on either of them. Running in the direction Strife indicated, he caught the scent again. Two blocks further, he paused. Stop acting like a damn rookie and do your job. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out his cell, and texted an emergency all call message with coordinates to the team. That taken care of, he shed his clothes and stuffed them behind a dumpster. With the barrier gone, he shifted. The coyote would have been preferable for the Arizona climate, but the wolf called to him.
His back hunched over until his knuckles scraped the street. Fur sprouted from every pore, a rich black that mimicked his hair’s natural shade. His eyes sharpened to laser points encircled by their usual blue. Bones snapped and reformed. The transition erupted so fast, the pain had no time to settle.
As Talon’s mind let go of its human brainwaves and the animal instincts began to take over, he caught the scent trail stronger than before. His paws burned against the asphalt as he ran to catch up to its source. In the wolf form, his strong hind legs pumped raw power and speed. The wind breaking against his muzzle sent a thrilling shiver down his fur. He reveled in the freedom of movement, his muscles expanding and contracting with the run.
Far too soon, he slowed to a walk. His nose picked up the repugnant stench of burnt flesh. A stream of dying light like coal embers peaked from around a corner. With tail raised and teeth bared, he stalked the rays. His spine stiffened, prepared for anything. At least he thought he was ready until he caught sight of her.
Sera stood at the end of a dead-end street, bathed in a blinding yellow light. Her skin glowed as if on fire. Her hair danced like flames. A haze of power emanated from her, a clear warning not to come near.
Despite the
danger, Talon couldn’t keep away. Her appearance may have changed, but her scent remained constant. The clean, crisp aroma with that hint of apple invaded his psyche, driving him to the brink. The wolf’s primitive instincts wanted to go to her. Yet his animal form at once seemed a prison as he yearned to be a man before her, his human hands caressing her body. Her skin would be soft and hot, tasting like her natural fragrance. Would she yield to his advances or burn him alive? He wanted—no needed to find out.
As he inched closer, her light singed his fur. It didn’t matter. He itched to shift, to know her touch. He held back, afraid of scaring her. It was his last sensible thought. Need rode him hard. If the embrace of her fire was all he could have, he’d gladly allow himself to be consumed by the blaze.
With a primal howl, he leapt forward.
Chapter Ten
Two Blocks From Van Wreckage, Phoenix, Arizona
Sirens blared as Drake faced Strife on the empty city street. As if in agreement not to break the standoff, neither moved, nor even breathed. The air grew dense equal to the strain. The glow from an orange streetlamp cast their long shadows on the pavement.
Drake fixed his gaze on her mouth, careful to avoid a war with her inky black eyes. He curled his upper lip, a predatory sign. Less than half the female vampire’s age, he couldn’t match her strength. It didn’t matter. The Devil take him before he’d roll over like a dog.
A lazy grin met his snarl. “My dear Drake, this display is unnecessary. We are old friends.” She raised an eyebrow as her words switched from gentle raindrops to cold searing wind. “Though you seem to have forgotten.”
“No,” he said low. “I haven’t.” He stared at the concrete. The gray cracks in the cement matched his mood.
“Did I not help you once?”
Her voice ate at his mind, willing him to recall their connection. Grinding his teeth caused his fangs to cut into his bottom lip. He welcomed the taste of blood. The medley of city noises ceased; her words filled his head.
“When everything was taken from you, did I not give you the strength to fight back?” Her presence lingered over him like a wraith.
“You’ve done right by me.” Drake laughed with bitterness. “I won’t betray you.”
“Ah, there’s the vampire I remember.” For a few brief moments, her notes slipped into a quasi-modern American accent. Each vowel clipped shorter than her formal tongue. “Best not get on my bad side, though. You’re already walking a fine line with that display to the shifter.”
“What would you have me do, Strife?” He rushed forward, holding her gaze. “Is Veritas to align with the PCD or am I to continue this charade?”
She tapped his shoulder over the trench coat as if consoling a petulant child. “My poor dear.” Her hand brushed through her hair. “You are too old to be naive. Do you really think the PCD would welcome our aid? Did you not see the way their agent regarded me?”
“You abducted the key witness in a case. What did you expect?”
“Perhaps, gratitude. Would that be too much to ask?”
“And she calls me naive,” Drake muttered under his breath. Sighing, he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the closed lids. “Let me put this in a manner you’ll understand. PCD sees facts, and the facts are you—the leader of a highly suspicious vigilante group—stole the victim. Whether or not these phage bastards attacked is irrelevant. Under their laws, you committed a crime and you are the bad guy.”
“And you mean to tell me it matters not we were trying to save her, to protect her from the true evil?”
He bit back a retort about her complete cluelessness of modern law, and said instead, “I understand why. But they won’t.”
“Then, they are fools and unworthy of our help.”
He snorted. “The phage are out in the open, Strife. They’re not hiding in the shadows or sneaking into little girls’ bedrooms anymore.” His voice vibrated from unchecked emotion. A past he was determined to keep buried. “They’re petitioning Congress. They’re asking for classification. They’re in the public eye. They’re playing the role of victim, martyrs for their cause. And all the while they’re murdering humans in their sleep.” He paced, the violent energy craving an outlet. “We can’t afford to make more enemies. We need allies. Our numbers are too small.”
“I was wrong. You have grown, Drake.” Her lips curled upward, but an edge of remorse clouded her eyes. “I am glad of it. I hope you have given some thought to my question. The honor is yours. You have but to grasp it.”
He exhaled on long breath. “I’m not right for the job. I don’t belong to Veritas anymore, and I certainly don’t want to lead it.”
“Not a soldier for Veritas, not an agent for the PCD. Half in, half out. When will you ever become whole again?”
“When every phage bastard on the planet has taken their last breath.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I share the sentiment well. But it is too late for me. I will never live free. Will you?” The edge of rain returned to her voice. “I believe you will be perfect to lead Veritas when I am gone, but I will not place that upon you, if you do not desire it.”
The ease with which she released him from such a burden struck him deep. “Why did you call me, Strife?”
“You are my child, made from my blood. If I cannot call on you, then who?”
“You have those far more capable in Veritas. You could have arranged for one of them to meet you here.”
“No. I failed to protect the girl and lost one of our own in the process. PCD deserves the right to try now.” She waved it off, but the look of guilt on her face told the true story. Failure never sat easy with a vampire, especially not one as proud as Strife. “Besides, they need to know we are not the enemy. You must warn them of the phage threat. Of these creatures’ true nature. I fear the phage grow more powerful than ever.”
“Why not tell them yourself? Combine forces.”
“We will see, Drake. But now is not the time. Veritas must remain underground. It is there we can learn the most about the phage’s movements.” Her nose twitched as if smelling something unpleasant. “Reyna is tricky. She’s eluded us for centuries. But if the phage queen has chosen this time to come into the open, she must have a plan.”
“And a bloody good reason.” He scratched his chin, mulling over what that reason could be.
“Yes. We must uncover her motives.” Strife’s eyes showed signs of strain. “In the meantime, we’ve others to contend with.”
A car’s headlights illuminated the scene before whisking away toward a side street. “Our time’s ending.” Strife eyed the area, then leaned in a mere hand’s span away. “Watch out for this Adriana Farrington. She’s the phage’s poster girl with her claws into all kinds of politics, but I suspect she’s really one of the queen’s generals.”
“A general?” Drake breathed in her ear. “Well, that presents a problem.”
Strife pulled back, scrunching her face in blatant disgust. The police sirens rang closer. “It’s time for us to part. Continue your liaison with the PCD and prepare them.” Inclining her chin, she offered a nod. “Until we meet again, be well my child.”
He murmured a goodbye when she shrank into the shadows. As if on cue with her departure, emergency teams swarmed the area. Drake knew they’d comb a five-mile radius from the accident and didn’t try to avoid them. It’d be far easier to face the local cops, then explain Strife’s disappearance to the PCD team when they arrived. He considered knocking himself out to avoid the hassle. As his earlier showdown with Slick played over in his head, unconsciousness tempted him even more.
He slunk down to the ground, his long legs resting in front of him and his hands crossed behind his head. He shut his eyes, catching a few minutes peace as he awaited his fate.
“I believe I’ve answered that question already. But as I said, we have no further leads at this time.” Jame ground her teeth together and grasped the sides of the podium. The microphone stood in front of her in mocking
salute, making the string of curses she wanted to release impossible. A vibrating at her hip caught her notice and helped ease her from the edge. Flipping her cell over, she attempted to read her incoming text on the sly. A growl escaped her as she took in the crowd of reporters.
“Everything okay, Agent Bradshaw? Is that news from your team?” A man with round glasses and a two-dollar haircut asked from the middle row.
She glared at him. No way he could have identified the incoming text message that easily, at least not if he was human.
“My dentist.” Jame smiled and held up her cell phone. “Seems I’m missing my appointment.”
The crowd laughed, except for the jerk who had asked the question. He edged closer and spoke again. “Sorry to hear. Why don’t you tell us the truth about the case, so you can see your dentist in time?”
Her insides boiled, a low buzz of energy building. “And miss staying here with all of you folks. Nah.”
“So you admit you’re hiding information about the murders in Buckhorn.” Gray eyes peered at her through those coke bottle rims. His press pass flipped forward as he pushed a hand mike toward the podium.
Her body stiffened, every muscle begging for a shift. “I’ve told you, the case is under investigation. We believe a group of radical vampires or a sect of unregistered SUBs is behind the attack. We cannot reveal more than this without additional evidence.”
“And the witness, Ms. Sera Benenati? What of her? Is she under suspicion?”
“She’s safe and not being charged at this time.” Her instincts flared, a warning. Time to cut and run. “That’s all I can say on the matter. No more questions.”
A stream of voices erupted as Jame stepped away from the podium and behind a curtain. The cool empty office at the end of the hallway beckoned her. The press conference was held at the Phoenix Mayor’s headquarters, but the man in charge hadn’t stuck around. The building lay at her disposal.
