by Rye Brewer
“They wouldn’t have left if something hadn’t happened to them,” Scott murmured.
I knew he was as sick of talking about it as any of us. As the youngest, it had bothered him the most when our parents had disappeared. He was never one to wear his sadness on his sleeve, but I could tell it affected hm.
“Dad would have faced Marcus,” I decided. “He would have let him know how strong the clan is. He would have kept the pact going and rallied for our clan in front of the League.”
“That’s right. Hell, didn’t we show them that when we burned half of them to a crisp?” Scott asked.
I winced when I thought about the fire. It had only been fifty human years, and yet, the memory was as fresh as if a week had passed. I could still smell the smoke and the burning flesh. I could hear the screams.
Some said my parents fled in the aftermath of the fire, unable to deal with what they’d done. Others said it was because of another faction inside our clan—the faction that had set the blaze, a faction outside my father’s rule. They said my parents fled because they knew they couldn’t control those who’d set the fire. Some thought they might already be dead, that they might have been dead for years. I didn’t know. I couldn’t afford to spend much time thinking about it, either. Not when my clan’s future rested on my shoulders.
I knew Marcus would again petition for more territory, more rule, as he’d want us to be punished for that fire. He’d want us to bear the penalty for our predecessors’ sins. Even though it wasn’t even our parents that were involved in it.
Gage made a sound of disgust. “Running.” He scoffed. “When we were old enough to take over.” He threw Philippa’s words back at her, because technically, he didn’t rule.
And he wanted to. This I knew.
No matter how I tried to get Gage to come around, it was a waste of time. He’d never agree that, as the oldest, I was the natural ruler of the Branson clan. Sure, it might have been only eight minutes, but I could make those eight minutes count when I wanted to.
Whenever anybody gently reminded him he wasn’t oldest, he’d counter by reminding them that he’d been changed from human to vampire a few minutes before I had—in his eyes, this made him older and more qualified to rule.
I didn’t feel like splitting hairs with him. In fact, on a night when I’d spent most of the time concerned about a League meeting instead of having fun, he could have the job if he wanted it. I didn’t think he had the slightest clue what it really meant to be the leader of a clan. He only wanted the power. Typical younger brother.
I studied my siblings, then shook my head. “I have no choice but to deal with Marcus, and I will. That’s not the point. I just don’t trust him. He wants the clan. He wants vengeance.”
“Vengeance for something we didn’t have any part in,” Philippa muttered, swinging one of her legs back and forth.
“It doesn’t matter. His memory is long.” I got up, stretching. It had been good to feed. I felt sharper, more on top of things. I would need to feed just before the League meeting, for certain. Just to be sure I had my head together.
I stepped out on the balcony, looking out over the city. So much life. Like a heartbeat pulsing, always pulsing, throbbing with life and vitality. I wished sometimes I could go down and feed like my parents had, like my ancestor’s generations before my time. The thrill of the hunt. We missed that in our more civilized days.
At the same time, though, it was a relief not to worry about vampire hunters with stakes and other useless weapons. We didn’t have to hide who we were. Still, there was no gain without a loss.
“Gage come around.” Philippa said, standing behind me.
“When? He’s had almost fifty years.” Fifty years to become accustomed to my being leader.
I looked into the distant sky, the stars that occasionally peeked through. If I tried hard enough, I could remember my early days as a vampire. The turn of the twentieth century. So much hope, so much promise. So much fresh blood. If I took a deep enough breath, I could almost smell it.
“And that’s like the blink of an eye to us,” Philippa reminded me. “Sometimes I think he’s still fifteen. Always wanting to step out of his big brother’s shadow.”
“I’m tired of him making me feel like I should apologize for being older. The elder members of the clan named me as ruler. Not him. What could I do?”
“Nothing. And he’ll figure that out one day.” She stood beside me, and a gust of wind whipped our hair back. “Sometimes I miss the hunt. Tonight would have been perfect, you know? Do you ever miss it?”
“Sometimes,” I admitted.
Another thing I missed was sleep. I hadn’t slept in over a hundred years. I could rest, recharge, but I couldn’t sleep. There was something about closing my eyes and drifting away that I wished I could feel again. Sometimes, it even got boring, being awake all the time. Yet another reason hunting was the perfect pastime. Some vampires from clans closer to the woods hunted animals. One day, I would have to visit friends and join them, because it had been way too long.
It had been too long since anything exciting happened, I decided. That was the problem. I went through life in a kind of sedated daze. I lived in luxury. I drank blood whenever I felt like it. I had a group of wise, trusted advisors. I had everything. I wanted more.
It was still on my mind when we went back to The Bank on Saturday night. Philippa was happy to be the life of the party, as always. People saw her red hair and knew they were in for a good time. Between her and Scott, they kept our friends roaring with laughter all night. They made a good pair on the dance floor, too, getting up not long after we arrived to jitterbug along with the jazz band playing onstage.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Maybe I smelled it in the air or felt the energy—either way, I needed to step outside once I’d fed.
Fed. I say fed these days but it has a different meaning than in the old days. These days when my kind say fed, it’s like saying we drank blood from a glass, or a bag, if we were in a hurry. Sort of like humans drank milk from a plastic jug when they were in too much of a hurry or too lazy to get a glass. Basically, fed today doesn’t mean the same as fed meant in yesteryears.
Anyway, I couldn’t lose the sensation that something was not quite right. I picked it up in the air, somehow. It might even have been the good rich blood I’d just dined on. I felt sharper than usual.
The night air was cool and damp. I sucked in a deep breath, filling my lungs, expanding my chest, then another. There were still plenty of vampires flocking into The Bank, so I stepped aside, closer to the alley, waiting the crowd out.
That was when I heard it. Just the faintest whisper of a sound. Directly behind me. I spun on my heel, ready to attack whatever it was without thinking I might have been outsized or outnumbered. I was plenty strong on my own—one of the strongest in the clan, not to mention my tall, thick frame. And I had the advantage of being just a half-step ahead of my attacker.
Only I wasn’t the one under attack. Three hulking figures overpowered one small, slender one. I knew it wasn’t my business, and I should back away and let issues take care of themselves, but I was never one to turn away from an unfair fight. Especially when it looked like a small girl was involved. The person was hooded, so I guess it could have been a boy, but somehow, I didn’t think so. The person didn’t move like a guy.
“Hey!” I threw myself into the center of the group, knocking the three attackers off-balance.
One of them took a swing at me, and under the single light shining in the otherwise dark alley, I realized what I was looking at. A werewolf. I scanned all of them. Yep, all of the attackers were werewolves. They had the large build, the shaggy hair and reddish eyes of werewolves. And I had stepped right into a fight with them.
I ducked before the werewolf, bigger but much slower, could make contact with me. He staggered back. Meanwhile, the other two werewolves tried to drag their prey away, further down the alley.
<
br /> “Stop!”
What am I doing?
I couldn’t help it. I hated to see something smaller and weaker being taken advantage of. There was no time to get help. I was her help. Me.
One of them raised their hand, and I saw the fingers curved into what looked like claws. He was going to kill his captive.
“No!” I threw myself at him, stopping him just in time.
His hold on his captive loosened, and I grabbed for the dark hoodie she wore. I pulled it to me, kicking out at the third werewolf. I looked down, taking in the white hair and golden eyes of the creature I had saved.
A girl. Definitely a girl.
And…
One of my kind.
I could feel it.
Something else I could feel: My arms encircled by what felt like bands of steel. One of the werewolves had taken hold of me.
“We only wanted her, but I guess we’ll take you, too, if you want.”
I looked down at the other vampire, her eyes wide. I hoped her life was worth it, because I had just put mine in danger for her sake. But I was up for a fight. No worries on that score.
Chapter 4
Anissa
How did I miss hearing those stinking werewolves sneaking up behind me? Were my senses dulling? No. I’d been too busy zeroing in on my prey. Jonah Bourke. The prey who saved my life. Some slayer I turned out to be.
But what did three werewolves want with me? I couldn’t understand. They dragged Jonah and me through a series of dank, putrid alleyways, far away from prying eyes. I couldn’t have called out for help. The last thing I wanted was for the Bourke siblings or their clan to find one of the Carver clan in their midst.
So, I’d given up, not putting up a fight. It pretty much screwed Jonah Bourke over, and he had the bruises and blood to show it.
They’d overpowered him since I didn’t help. Three werewolves took him down. That seemed a bit odd, I’d have thought with his six and what little I’d seen of his fighting skills he’d have fared better. It gave me pause, made me wonder if there was some magic involved, but I pushed that thought aside quickly. I had more important things to worry about now.
Like, where were they taking us. And why? Why not just kill us where they’d found us?
The further we got from the restaurant and the rest of civilization, the more certain I was that they never intended to let us go. Well, Jonah would die that night, after all. Just not by my hand. And Marcus would still get what he wanted.
So why did the idea of him dying bother me?
I gave a sideways glance to him. Broad shouldered, dark red hair. Not cartoon red, that red that is close to brown, but has those bronze glints that catch the moonlight.
Under other circumstances I’d have thought he was hot. As it was, all I could afford to think of was that he needed to not be alive.
And now again, that thought saddened me.
After a few minutes of being dragged through stinking, vile alleys that seemed to get narrower at every turn, we ended up at a stairway leading down to what looked like the basement of an old warehouse. Just the kind of place three filthy werewolves would hole up. Werewolves weren’t exactly respected in my world. They were pretty much the lowest of the low, except in rare cases. What they wanted with me, I had no idea.
“Here.” The one holding me tossed me to the ground like I was nothing once we got inside.
I skidded to a stop, hitting a stack of filthy mattresses. A handful of fat roaches skittered out from beneath them, and I fought to keep myself from screaming. Funny thing. A vampire slayer terrified of roaches. In New York, roach capital of the world. The irony of it.
Jonah’s captor threw him, too, only Jonah managed to stay on his feet. With his muscular body, he wasn’t that easy to toss. His power could easily match any one of theirs. Just not three of them, not these three, for some reason.
I was pretty sure, sort of, that I could have taken them, if I’d had the advantage of surprise, and if I’d had my weapons out.
I scanned the room, seeing with my preternatural eyes, even in the dark. Wooden posts supported a sagging roof of the floor above us. Bundles of rotting fabric, no longer useful. Maybe an old textile factory? It made sense. We were just outside the garment district. It smelled like something had died down here. Maybe something had. Did the werewolves live there? How was it possible? They were disgusting beings, so perhaps they did live here.
I could tell from the look on Jonah’s handsome face that he felt the same way.
Jonah brushed a strand of hair back from his broad forehead. “What’s this all about? Why did you bring us here?”
“We brought you here because you got in the way,” the largest of the werewolves growled.
The sound of his voice made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.
“You weren’t part of the plan, pretty vampire boy,” he added.
“Pretty, huh? You got a crush or something? That’s now how I roll.” To my total horror, Jonah winked. Like he was trying to get a rise out of the werewolf standing in front of him.
Was he insane? Sure, he could have taken one of them. But three?
“Watch yourself. Remember who’s in charge here.” The werewolf turned to me. “This one was the one we were supposed to take. We only need her.”
I knew what that meant, but I held my tongue and my wince. I’d gotten good at that. I could tell from the look on Jonah’s face that he wasn’t quite computing. They wanted to kill him. It was obvious they had no idea who they were dealing with—murdering the head of a clan as powerful as the Bourkes would bring a world of hurt down on their heads, on the heads of all werewolves in the area. I hoped Jonah would keep his mouth shut long enough to give me a chance to get us out of there.
Why do you care whether he lives or dies? You’re supposed to kill him, anyway.
My own words weighed heavy in my head. Sure, it would make life easier. But he had saved me. He didn’t have to save me.
And there was something else about him. I watched him from my spot on the floor, while he leaned against an old wooden post. Our captors talked among themselves. Jonah didn’t take his eyes from them, and I didn’t take my eyes from him.
I couldn’t.
He was gorgeous. Handsomer than any vampire or human I’d ever seen. A fine, strong profile, a chiseled jaw. Sapphire eyes with a hint of gold around the outside. I’d noticed them back in the alley. I’d almost drowned in them, even though I was close to certain death at the moment. I didn’t want to see them rip him to pieces. It would be such a waste.
The werewolves did their best to keep their voices down, but they must not have known it didn’t matter. Vampire hearing was like our sight, super sensitive. We learned early how to tune in and out—I knew I would’ve gone crazy if I spent my entire life hearing everything happening for blocks around me. A day at the mansion would have killed me. I tuned in now, needing to hear what they were planning. I couldn’t tell from Jonah’s blank expression whether he was listening, too.
“We were only supposed to get her,” one of them said, his voice more of a growl.
“What happens if we show up with two?” another one asked.
“No way.” This came from the leader. “We have to get rid of him. He needs to go.”
“And where do you think we could put him?”
“I know I’m hungry.”
The leader frowned at them both, poking his cohorts in the chest with a clawed finger of warning. “We don’t have time. If we could store him here until we get back, though…”
“That’s not a bad idea…”
So, they were going to leave Jonah and take me wherever I was supposed to go, then come back and eat him. Again, this would make my life easier. Well, maybe not easier. I still had to get away from them. I was beginning to understand the smell down there. They did a lot of feeding, but not a lot of cleaning up after themselves. I decided not to look too far into the darkness for fear of what, or who, I would see, and
what state of half-eaten they might be.
“All right, girl. Up. We have to get you going. There’s no time to waste.”
“Where to?” I asked, taking my time about getting up. My weapons were stored in a pocket inside my boots, safe and secure. I only needed the chance to reach in and grab them. I could take all three werewolves out before they had the chance to blink an eye. I felt pretty sure about that. I only had to get in the right position.
I hoped Jonah Bourke didn’t plan on being a hero. He might make things a lot more dangerous.
“You’ll find out when you get there.” He motioned with his hand for me to hurry up.
I gave him a fake smile, tossed my hair back. “We’ve already spent so much time here. I was starting to feel at home.”
“Stop with the jokes.” The head werewolf scanned Jonah up and down, giving him the once over. “Tie him up,” he said, pointing to Jonah.
“With what?” one of the other two asked.
“How am I supposed to know? Find something. There has to be something around here you can use.”
I could tell from his tone of voice that he was tired of working with two numbskulls. Who could blame him? I waited until they were well into looking for a length of rope—did they really think that would be any use against a vampire?—before turning to the leader.
His face was surprisingly unmarked for a werewolf. Most werewolves bore scars from fighting each other or battling other types. He was probably too strong for any of his enemies to have a chance in a fight. His barrel chest, massive arms, and strong legs spoke of intense power, as intense as the stench coming from him. Didn’t he know how bad he smelled? It could have been the filthy, ragged clothing or the matted hair all along his chest, arms and head. I willed myself to put that aside and focus on getting the jump on him. He’d never been up against me, and what he possessed in strength, he lacked in speed.
I cast a glance over to where the other pair attempted to tie Jonah to the wooden post. I nodded just enough for him to notice, and he moved his head just the fraction of an inch to show he understood. We didn’t know each other, yet we’d have to rely on each other to get out of there. I took a deep breath, letting it out in a long, slow stream. All of my senses were focused. It was all about the fight now.
