by J. K. Coi
“Don’t start comparing your cheap one-night stands to my meaningful and fulfilling relationship,” Alric warned as he got behind the wheel.
“Meaningful and fulfilling, huh? Sounds like you memorized that. Have those words been imprinted into your little pea brain by way of selective programming?” Baron joked as he joined him and immediately reached over to turn on the stereo.
“Fuck you.” Alric promptly turned it off again.
Baron gave a long, melodramatic sigh. “Come on, old man, turn the tunes back on. Music hasn’t been the devil’s tool since Elvis. You do know Elvis, right?”
“That hardcore rap shit you listen to is hardly Elvis, Baron. And there’s more to a marriage than getting laid, which even you should appreciate. Maybe one day, if you’re lucky enough to find someone who can put up with your horrible taste in music, you’ll realize it’s also a lot of hard work…and pain.”
Baron laughed. “Lucky? To be in pain? And here I thought love was all about eternal happiness and shit.”
Alric turned dead serious. “You heard me. Pain. Hard. It’s a lot of work to make a relationship, Baron. And when you factor in the added baggage we Immortals carry around, it could be virtually impossible.” He sighed, gaze remaining firmly on the road in front of him as he drove. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression—love is about two percent happiness and ninety-eight percent the most horrible pain on earth?”
Baron swallowed his laugh. “Ah, no. No, I hadn’t heard that one.”
“Yeah, well it’s probably true.” Alric turned his head and speared Baron with his gaze, those silvery eyes that were so like Baron’s own, shining with a rare expression of dark, swirling emotion. Coming from Alric it was so out of character that it almost scared him. “But that two percent happiness…that is so totally worth all of the rest, you know?”
“Sure. Hey, I’m sorry man. I was being an ass, you know?”
Alric nodded, some of the intensity passing from his expression. “Yeah. I know. Don’t worry about it.”
Baron might act like an asshole ninety-nine percent of the time, yanking his friend’s chain when it came to the man’s marriage and pulling practical jokes on Rhys every chance he got. But it was done in fun.
Out of them all, only Alric and Rhys were involved in any kind of serious relationship—with a woman, anyway. Roland’s obsession with his Ferrari didn’t count, although it came pretty close given the amount of time he spent washing the thing.
It followed that the two attached Immortals were going to take some good-natured male ribbing about the female influences in their lives.
All kidding and practical jokes aside, Baron recognized how fortunate his friends were to have found love. Real love, not the kind that came with twenty differently colored condoms and a long list of lies.
They were Immortals. And given the job they took on, it was good that Rhys and Alric each had someone to help make it all mean something. So that the world still made sense at the end of the day. Because God knew it could be a struggle to handle all that violence day in and day out. The humans walked the streets with their heads in the clouds, unaware of the evil that stalked them. And the reality of it was, if Baron and the others were doing their jobs right, none of those humans were ever going to know enough to appreciate the sacrifices that had been made so they would live to see tomorrow. No one was going to say thank you for making sure they didn’t end up demon grub. It was all very Men In Black. And that was just fine. That was the way it was supposed to be.
But no matter how much Baron might be happy for his colleagues, love wasn’t a gamble he’d be making. Once, a long time ago, he might have entertained certain illusions, but a lot had changed since then, not the least of which was Baron himself. He wasn’t so young anymore, or optimistic…and just maybe he wasn’t so selfish either.
He casually watched the streets as they drove, senses tuned to any hint of trouble. It was like having the TV on in the background so you could keep track of the score of the hockey game while you were doing something else. This kind of constant awareness was a habit he’d honed in the military, a skill that had also proven to be of use in his new profession, especially when combined with Baron’s other unique gifts.
The night air was a bit crisp for this time of year, the full moon hidden behind dark clouds ripe with moisture. “Alric, stop the car.” There was something other than moisture in the air tonight.
“You see something, kid?”
Baron groaned. “Would you stop calling me that? You want me to call you Grandpa?” He tilted his head to the left, and Alric pulled down a dark side street.
“Why don’t you try it and see what happens?” Alric smiled and stopped the car.
Baron jumped out and started heading back the way they’d come, his senses telling him the disturbance he’d felt was coming from a location about two deserted buildings back. Alric followed. “Hey, don’t jump into this half-cocked. Whatever you think you saw, we handle it properly. Together. Prepared. Got it?” His expression was stern and his tone brooked no argument.
Baron nodded. “Yeah. Got it.” He pointed to the entrance of a run-down apartment building. It looked empty, but he knew he had seen movement, shadows. A ghastly certainty came upon him, his internal radar immediately kicking into super high gear, bringing his attention to the evil psychic taint in the air. “You wanna go in first, or shall I?”
Alric pulled a heavy duty magnum and waved Baron ahead. “Lead the way, my friend—this is your show. I’m just the backup dancer tonight.”
Baron shuddered. “I’d just as soon not be forced into a visual of you in a pair of tights, if it’s all the same.”
They carefully approached the doorway. Baron motioned for silence as he pressed an ear to it. Sure enough, his better-than-human hearing picked up the shuffling and scratching of movement within. It could have been nothing—a cat and a mouse duking it out, or a runaway who’d found a place to crash for the night—but Baron didn’t think so. With a look back at Alric, he pushed aside his leather jacket and pulled his Glock from the holster clipped at his hip.
He moved into position in front of the door, knowing that once they were inside they’d have only a fraction of a second to assess the situation, determine whether or not human lives were at stake and if those lives could be saved.
One. Two. Three.
He kicked the door hard, knowing from experience exactly where to hit it, the sweet spot that would send it careening open. He was ready for the rebound with his shoulder when it bounced back off the inside wall. He’d made that mistake his first mission out.
Baron and Alric surprised two vampires who looked up at them from their dinner of wasted, middle-aged homeless guy. Blood dribbled from their mouths down colorless faces and under their chins. Both drew their lips back in matching hisses of feral rage at being discovered and interrupted.
“Sorry to intrude,” Baron drawled, the sneer in his voice making it very obvious he wasn’t sorry in the least. “But is this a private party, or can anyone crash it and dust your asses?”
The two vampires rose from the dirty floor with ghastly synchronicity, the human they had been feasting on forgotten and crumpling at their feet in a heap of limbs and grimy, ragged clothing.
The male lifted its nose to the air and inhaled deeply, as if picking up the scent of their very blood. “Ah, now this is interesting,” he said. “Immortals. What a treat. I thought we were going to be stuck with meatloaf tonight, but it looks like we’ll be having steak for dinner, my dear.”
The female smiled, her long fangs protruding from behind stretched lips. “I’ve never had an Immortal before, baby,” she purred, her voice a lush, husky sound that hypnotized. Baron found himself having to consciously fight the draw of it. “Get it for me.”
Alric stepped forward. “Look, we have no issue with vampires…generally,” he said. “We couldn’t care less about your sick little blood clubs or your conversion treaty, but when you start taki
ng blood from humans who have not consented, you break your own rules and something will be done about it.”
“Not by you, Immortal. We vampires have our own laws, and our own system in place to enforce those laws,” the male hissed. “None of which requires your involvement.”
Baron could feel the strength of the vampire’s psychic power as the creature probed the barriers he had already subconsciously fortified to keep them both out of his head. The male was strong, obviously the older of the pair.
Alric’s expression showed strain as he too fought an invisible battle against the vampires’ combined power. “If your Enforcer isn’t here to stop you, then we certainly have no problem doing it.”
At the mention of the Enforcer, the female let out a low, keening sound of distress, causing the male to growl sharply. She cringed and went silent, but her eyes were wide and round. The male’s hands curled into fists at his side. “This does not involve you.” The vampire’s eyes glowed and Baron felt a forceful push in his mind. “Just turn around and forget you saw us here tonight. This is not your business.”
The sneaky bastard was trying to compel them. And he was strong too. Alric had already partially turned to head out the door.
Baron sent power surging along the same psychic line the vampire was using against them and zapped him back with his own juice. He got a rush of psychic feedback and had to shake his head to clear away the fuzz.
The vampire looked just as unsteady. Baron knew he had a true and clear shot and quickly pulled the trigger before it could try something else, but it was fast—so fast Baron didn’t even see it move. One second the bullet was racing toward it, and the next second the vampire was behind him, leaning in close with its hands pulling on Baron’s shoulders. Baron’s wasted bullet smacked a hole into the wall where the vampire used to be.
The suck-head was going to bite him.
Fuck that.
Baron whipped his chin up and brought his head back, hearing and feeling the satisfying crunch of the vampire’s nose. He swung around to double-whammy the break with his fist and the vampire growled, blood pouring from him in a steady spray. With a roar, the creature sprang for Baron, a blur of teeth and claws, but he’d expected this attack and stepped back, parrying the vampire’s far-reaching swipe.
The female shrieked and launched herself at him then, but Alric intercepted her. She fought like a banshee. Screeching and scratching, her teeth flashing in the darkness.
The male vampire danced around Baron so fast, he felt like an eight-year-old trapped in the hall of mirrors, turning this way and that, seeing things that were there one moment and gone the next. The thing wouldn’t stay still long enough for him to get in a shot, and it was pissing him off. His fingers tightened around the handle of his weapon, itching to pull the trigger.
At Alric’s shout, Baron swung round to see the female with her teeth sunk deep in Alric’s upper arm. His fist was in her hair, and he yanked her from him with a low roar, his face a mask of disgust.
Her mouth hung open, dripping his blood onto the floor. She screamed, struggling with desperate urgency to get her teeth into him again, flailing and heaving against his hold. Her attack had lost all semblance of control or strategy—she was now motivated only by the blood lust.
Alric was attempting to draw his blade against her, difficult considering it took both his arms to hold her off him. The male vampire abandoned his attack on Baron to defend her at the same time Baron aimed his Glock.
Baron shot her.
Everything moved in slow motion from that point forward. Baron cocking his gun, pulling the trigger. The bullet whizzing toward the female’s chest. The male vampire’s shout of furious rage. Alric’s arms bringing the sword down in a wide arc that severed her head from her shoulders, sending vampire blood splattering over his forearms.
The male vampire raced to her side, but as fast as he was, he couldn’t save her.
There was nothing left of the female but fine particles of ash already settling with the caked-in dirt on the old, milky-looking parquet floor.
The vampire went ballistic, flying at him and Alric with a loud snarl of rage. Shit, the thing had been fast before, but now the bastard was virtually invisible, a blurred tornado of flying fists and teeth and venomous purpose. It took all Baron had just to keep its deadly claws and fangs from tearing into him like the jagged teeth of a rotary mower.
With the two of them pounding on the vampire, their odds had drastically improved, but it was quicker than they were, and strong. The damn thing was stronger than any demon Baron had fought to date.
“Baron. Alric.” The vampire called their names, taunting them now as it danced around them, always one step faster. Just out of reach. “I see you. I know you. I’ve been in your heads already.”
“Oh, good.” Baron turned in a circle, trying to track the vampire’s movements. “If you’re reading my mind, then I won’t waste my breath telling you what I’m going to do to you.” Baron pulled his sword, twisting around as he waited for an opening.
It just laughed. A creepy sound like every evil laugh from every villain in every low budget movie he could remember watching. “You can’t stop me. Neither of you have quite what it takes. But it was a good try, and I’ll be sure to tell your wife just that, Alric. Do you think she’d like to hear about how you two killed my mate? Do you think she’d enjoy learning exactly what the term ‘an eye for an eye’ really means?”
Alric roared, rage giving him a burst of speed. His reach was still an instant too slow, but Baron had remained still, watching, and he thought he could anticipate the vampire’s next move.
Baron wasted no time. He plunged his sword into the bastard’s chest.
The vamp came to a full stop, from Superman on steroids to Superman on kryptonite in the twist of a blade. Baron pushed it in deeper, until the point came out bloody on the other side.
The vampire’s scream of pain and fury ricocheted like a ping-pong ball in his mind—a ping-pong ball covered with sharp metal spikes. The sound was piercing, sharp and unbearable. Baron closed his eyes against it. Only for a moment, but when he opened them again the vampire was gone.
The two Immortals looked at each other, both still breathing heavily, both bloody and bruised. “What the hell was that?” Alric demanded, his expression tight, his voice ripe with disgust. “Why’d you stick him in the chest? Don’t you know you have to take a vampire’s head?”
Baron shoved his weapon back into its sheath with a brisk, irritated flick of his wrist. “Fuck, no. How the hell was I supposed to know that?”
“Everybody knows that.”
“Well, I must have missed the Bloodsuckers 101 class, because everything I know about vampires I got from the Scream channel.”
“No kidding. And since when do you believe everything you see on TV, dumbass?”
“Hey, dumbass—you weren’t exactly forthcoming with useful information.” They exchanged identical looks of frustration, then sighed heavily.
“Shit,” Baron muttered.
“Yeah.”
“Shouldn’t we go after him?”
“No point now. The sun’s almost up. He’s already long gone.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
Baron walked to the door and looked up and down the quiet street, still dark and sleeping, waiting for the sun to touch the sky with gold. There wasn’t a sound or a shuffle of movement anywhere. Not a cat. Not a dog. No wounded evil vampires. His senses weren’t picking up anything.
Damn it. It really pissed him off that the creature was going to get away. But he made a vow to himself that it wouldn’t get far. “Alric?” he said as the two men made their way back to the car.
“What?”
“Go home to your wife tonight.”
Alric paused, then nodded. “I got no problems with that.”
Chapter Two
“If he’s alive, I’ll find him for you.”
Had she really promised Jackson s
omething so foolish?
Of course she had. What else were you supposed to tell a dying man when he asks for a favor? A dying man who also happened to be your best friend in all the world?
Yep. That explained why she wasn’t at home tucked nicely in her bed. Although it didn’t necessarily account for why she was stuck on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere at God only knows what time of the freakin’ night it was, kicking the crap out of her rust-bucket death-trap of a VW Beetle.
Because of a promise.
Max groaned aloud and swore a blue streak into the misty night air as she struck her toe against the hard black rubber of her front tire.
She should have known the car wouldn’t get her to Chandler. The ancient hunk of scrap metal hated her. It must. The thing was Christine, and it hated her. The only time it had ever run properly was on the ill-fated day she’d been duped into buying the piece of shit car from her cousin Sally’s boyfriend. Since then, Max had had nothing but trouble from it—everything from leaking oil and fried spark plugs to flat tires, faulty brakes and a busted gasket. She didn’t even want to know what the hell was wrong with it now, but from the thick gray smoke coming from underneath the hood…it wasn’t going to be anything good.
Great. Just freaking great.
Because of a dying man and his last wish, because of her mushy soft spot for Jackson and his need to mend fences with his brother, Maxine was stranded on the outskirts of an unfamiliar town, with a cell phone that was as useless as a bathing suit to an Eskimo, since it hadn’t picked up a signal for the last six miles before her car had uttered its last, dying sputter and stalled out on her.
With the way she was feeling right now, even if Max managed by some twisted turn of fate to find Jackson’s selfish, heartless, insensitive asshole of a brother, she was seriously going to deck him for making her go through all this—before dragging him back home to Jackson like she’d promised.
She rubbed at the goose bumps that had risen all along her bare arms. It was uncharacteristically chilly for June. “Okay.” She needed to break the silence hanging heavy and thick in these unfamiliar surroundings, even if it meant talking to herself.
