Saul wondered about this new feeling, this soul-deep attachment he was developing toward the once-mortal woman. Whatever that feeling was, he knew it was dangerous. The last time he’d started to feel comfortable with Nikki, the Greelys had attacked. And now, this new thing he felt for her made him even more vulnerable. He didn’t fully understand why he felt that way; he assumed that was simply how one felt, when they fell in love with someone else.
That new development aside, other things in Saul’s life seemed to be working out. Who knew that working for The Guard could be so fulfilling? His job sent him to various places around the world, some of which allowed him to dig a little deeper into the death of his father. Sure, The Guard had assured him that he’d have his answers with time. But Saul wasn’t keen on waiting around.
So he took it upon himself to ask around about his father on these trips. He asked old friends of his father’s—people who had known him from as far back as the 1700s. His father, Lucas Benton, was well-known and well-respected. He had been a scientist in his mortal life and had used some of his knowledge to help better the lives of many vampires.
For this reason, his death—his murder—had come as a shock to not only Saul and Jill, but much of the vampire community. The unanswered questions behind his demise were still discussed in hushed whispers among vampire clans, particularly those who had been on good terms with the Bentons.
Saul felt that he was getting close to the truth. Whether or not he would like that truth remained to be seen. But at least he’d know. And then he could put that part of his life behind him and focus on the future.
Thinking of a future where answers to his father’s death might finally be revealed, he looked back to Nikki and smiled. She caught him looking and smiled back, giving his hand a squeeze. Outside, the lush green Ireland countryside rolled by.
Saul knew they’d be back in Red Creek within eighteen hours. The thought made him profoundly sad. Out here, in this beauty and isolation, he’d almost allowed himself to imagine that he had a normal life, spending quiet time with a woman for whom his feelings now ran deep. But back in Red Creek, he knew the reality of his life would come back to strip him of these naïve little daydreams.
So this is what love does to you, Saul thought. No wonder so many mortal poets wrote depressing songs about the damn thing.
Still, he couldn’t complain. From what he could tell, Nikki returned his feelings. That was enough to get him through for the time being.
3
Jill took out the laundry from the dryer methodically, her mind not on the task at hand. An image of a flawless green field with a fat blue sky overhead captured her mind, pulling her an ocean away from Red Creek and its monotone worries. Jill had been terribly confused at first, but the way in which the image presented itself was vintage Saul. Since her brother had started working for The Guard, such little missives had grown common. Freed from the shadows of Red Creek, Saul had been able to visit some absolutely stunning places around the globe. Jill knew these little telepathic snapshots were her brother’s way of keeping her involved.
Saul also knew that their telepathy helped to break the drone of a rather domesticated life. Here she was doing the laundry for God’s sake. It almost made her resent coming back to Red Creek, but she knew with every fiber in her body that this was where she needed to be right now. For how long, she wasn’t sure—for the foreseeable future, at least.
Jill smiled at the mental image of the Irish landscape and sent Saul back her own telepathic picture: a hand flipping a middle finger.
Jill left the small laundry room, which was little more than an alcove tucked away behind the kitchen that shared space with a pantry Saul hardly ever used. Jill walked back into the cabin’s main space, a laundry basket held in front of her. She smiled at the figure sitting on the couch.
Jason Eastman had more or less become a roommate to Saul and Jill. Ever since the battle with the Greelys, Jason had slipped into some sort of a fugue state that Jill and Saul didn’t understand. Even The Guard hadn’t been able to provide them with an accurate diagnosis. Whatever it was, it seemed to be getting better, albeit on a slow scale.
The best guess The Guard offered was that Leibald Greely’s savage bite was delivered with the intent to force Jason into servitude to him. Since the bite did not kill Jason’s mortal body, his physical being didn’t know what to do once Leibald died. Jason’s original instinct drew him to Nikki since he had known her in his mortal life and because Nikki had been the one to destroy his master.
But after a few weeks, that magnetic pull to Nikki had disappeared. Ever since, Jason had slid into a lethargic state that caused him to sleep for days on end. When he did get up, he didn’t say much and ate very little. He was pale, quiet, and seemed remorseful about something unknown.
Jason did confess to a strange new feeling of bloodlust and, after a brief test conducted by Jill, discovered that sunlight did indeed make him feel ill. It looked like he was a vampire—maybe even more so than Nikki. But aside from the bloodlust and the aversion to sunlight, he did not feel a compulsion to act out in violence.
Jason’s current condition was one of the primary reasons Jill had decided to stay in Red Creek. The Guard feared what Jason might do once he came out of his current fugue state. They had only seen such behavior a few times and it came from vampires that eventually went on to become Rogues. Rogue vampires held no allegiance to any particular clan and, for reasons that no one could determine, were essentially invisible to The Guard. Rogues were free to roam without The Guard’s approval because they could not be tracked by whatever powers The Guard used to keep tabs on all other vampires.
Still, even this theory wasn’t a proven one. The Guard only knew of seven Rogues and all of them were living peacefully in environments within the wilderness—one of which had not yet even been properly discovered by humans.
Having tended to Jason for nearly three and a half months while Saul carried on with his work – often taking Nikki along with him – Jill had begun to care for Jason. She had fed him when necessary and had restrained him when he woke reeling with bloodlust. A new vampire with no real ties to any clan tended to be weak, so Jill was able to keep him down with little problem. But she couldn’t help but think that Jason was going to be incredibly powerful when his transformation finally took root—if it ever took root at all.
As for Jill, she was simply fulfilling her duty. After standing by Saul’s side during their battle with the Greelys, she’d rediscovered her loyalty to her family. As far as she was concerned, she was here to stay. What had being on her own done for her after their father’s death? Not a damn thing… Jill had been lonely and lost – feelings that had driven her to nearly killing humans on several occasions. It had been incredibly difficult to find suitable lovers without giving away her true identity. Jill had bedded a few men in her retreat—a small island town off the coast of Florida—but ultimately felt unfulfilled.
So now this was her purpose. Jill intended to take care of Jason while Saul and Nikki were gone. She would remain in Red Creek while her brother was away to make sure there were no remnants of Benali and Leibald’s plan to wipe out the smaller vampire clans. Jill would do what was best for her family as an act of repentance for running away all those years ago when things had gotten particularly dark.
And in the meantime, maybe she’d hit up the bars outside of town to find someone suitable for a night or two in bed. It had been a long time and her need for sex was often as strong as her lust for blood.
Just thinking about it sent a thrill through her. What she wouldn’t give for one night with a man that knew what he was doing.
But for now, all of the male companionship she was getting came from Jason – a poor substitute. And here he was now, sitting on the couch. As Jill watched him, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He gave Jill what she assumed was meant to be a smile of reassurance.
“Jason,” she started. “How are yo
u feeling?”
“Not sure. How long was I asleep this time?”
“A little less than two days. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
Jason thought about this for a moment and actually looked down to his stomach, as if asking it what it thought about this question. “I guess I could eat.”
“Any cravings for blood?”
“No,” Jason said. “Not blood. I’d really like a beer, though. Maybe a steak, too. Nice and rare.”
Jill smiled. “We’re more of a red wine family, but I can pick up some when I got out. I will get you a steak, too.”
Jill put the laundry basket down and walked over to him. She cupped his head in her hands and swiveled it slowly towards her. “Sorry,” she said. “I need to see your eyes.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jason said, having gone through this inspection several times before.
According to The Guard, his pupils would go a shade of deep red if his transformation took root in the worst way possible—blood-red irises that indicated hostility and rage.
“You’re clear,” Jill assured.
He let out a weak laugh. “I don’t feel very clear.”
“What do you mean?” Jill asked.
He shrugged. “I feel muddy. My thoughts are all jumbled. And I feel sore. I’d swear I had the flu or something.”
“No flu for you,” Jill smiled. “That’s one of the big bonuses about being a vampire. You don’t get sick.”
“Score,” he said sarcastically.
“Do you think you can maybe stay awake a bit longer this time? I’d like to walk you out into the woods and test out your powers.”
“Yeah, I think I can do that. I just need to sit here and…I don’t know…adjust.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she agreed.
“Where’s Nikki?” he asked, out of the blue.
“With Saul. They’re on their way back from Ireland, I think.”
“Oh.”
Jill didn’t know how Jason felt about Nikki at the moment, but could nonetheless tell it was a sore topic. She knew that Jason had cared deeply for her as a mortal but ever since the battle with the Greelys, much had changed. Jill had seen him casting odd glances at Nikki from time to time, as if he wasn’t sure that she could be trusted.
Jill watched him cautiously for a while before returning her attention to the load of laundry. She gave him a final glance before she started folding the clothes, wondering if he would say something else.
But he didn’t. He simply stared at the floor again, unmoving.
It was times like these when Jill wondered if Jason was going to be a problem. It was exasperating but also somewhat unnerving to watch him in this nearly immobile state. The empty look in his eyes made her uncomfortable and she found herself often wondering what would happen if his transformation took place—for the worst, at that—while Saul was away. Jill was not sure she’d be able to force herself kill him if it came to that. And for that reason, she found herself watching her back when she was alone with him.
She pushed these ominous thoughts away, focusing on the dull task of folding clothes as Jason sat motionless and quiet on the couch beside her. Christ, you’d think he’d at least offer to help.
4
The man’s name was Larry Dennison. He sat in a dirty field and stared at the railroad tracks several hundred feet to his left. He’d done something…something he couldn’t quite remember. When he tried to recall what it was he had done, his guts bloomed with fear and a sort of regret that he couldn’t quite comprehend.
It made no sense. He looked at his hands, which were covered in blood. This, he supposed, did make sense because he tasted it in his mouth, too. He’d been in his share of fights over the years and knew what blood tasted like –always his own, the result of a busted lip or loosened teeth. But this was something new.
Tasting the blood in his mouth made him desperately want a drink. He wanted something strong—some of that rotgut liquor that had gotten him here in the first place. He wanted it so bad that his throat started to contract, anticipating its taste. It would sting his throat, removing the blood and leaving him numb.
Larry looked around. He had no problem recalling how he had gotten here. He’d walked aimlessly along the railroad tracks. It had been about a fifteen-mile hike from the small train yard in whatever little town he’d jumped off the boxcar. That led him here. Somewhere along the way, walking the rails between that town and this one, he’d gulped down the last of his bottle.
Thinking of that bottle, he reached into the dusty old coat he wore and found it in one of the large pockets. It was empty. Damn it to hell. He threw it toward the tracks where it thudded harmlessly in the grass.
“Goddammit,” Larry swore.
He got to his feet on unsteady legs. His head swam as he did so and he had to stand in one place for twenty seconds or so until the world floated back into its proper place. When he felt safe to do so, he turned slowly, taking in the field.
There was a police car parked at the edge of the field behind him. It sat roughly fifty feet away. Between himself and the car, an unsettling amount of blood littered the weeds and grass. Seeing it, the sense of having done something very bad once again tried to claim him. He searched his mind but came up with nothing. All he could sense was some degree of danger and the blood in his mouth.
“It’s okay,” a voice spoke from behind him.
Larry let out a stifled little yelp of surprise. He wheeled around and saw another man standing in the field with him. This man was on the other side of the field, easily two hundred yards away, but his voice sounded as if the man was standing right beside him.
“It’s not,” Larry said. “It’s not okay at all.”
“You’ll be fine. Let it pass, Larry. This is the best thing you’ve ever done.”
“But what did I do?” Larry asked.
The man said nothing. He stood there, like a ghost. He was dressed in a black suit, like he was going to a wedding or a funeral.
Larry looked back towards the police car and started wailing as he walked toward it. He stopped several feet ahead when he came to the body lying in the grass. The policeman’s throat was ripped out. Pools of blood circled his head. His nametag read MOREL.
“My God,” Larry stammered. “No…”
But even in his denial, Larry tasted the blood in his mouth and, looking at Morel, it all made sense. And, God help him, the blood was beginning to taste great—even better than the liquor he had been craving less than two minutes ago.
Larry stood there, looking at the body and listening to the voice of the man in the black suit behind him. “Just rest, Larry. You’ll understand it all soon enough.”
Larry’s knees went out and when he curled himself into a ball and started to scream, his hands instinctively went to the wound on his own neck. It was so fresh that it was still leaking blood.
CHAPTER TWO
1
Kara Humphrey spent a lot of her spare time alone nowadays. Some days she cried, seemingly about nothing. She assumed it was her mind’s way of dealing with what she had seen and the facts that pressed themselves upon her mortal brain. Not only are vampires indeed real, she often thought, but they exist in Red Creek—the shitsplat town I escaped to in order to get away from everything.
Other days, she sat on her front porch with a bottle of wine and waited for the sun to set. On these days, she drank until she passed out in her little rocking chair. She’d spring awake with a jolt of fear, sure that one of Leibald Greely’s minions was walking up her porch to kill her. The worst part of this was not the fear, but the feeling that it might not be so bad to be attacked…..even if it was by something as insidious as one of the soldiers Leibald had left behind after his death. Because then, she might receive a taste of the power that Nikki now had. Kara often wondered why people feared vampires. Their bite meant immortality and other supernatural benefits, after all. Strength of the kind mortal people could only imagine.
On such
nights, Kara stumbled into her bed with her head reeling. How messed up was it, that she sometimes wished she had been bitten? And when her mind went there, she often imagined Saul Benton biting her, his mouth on her neck and his hands forcefully at her back. And she would then extend the fantasy, having him tear her shorts off in tattered shreds, feverish to get to her breasts.
Kara had managed to escape the clutches of her infatuation with him. She placed it elsewhere, into a man that she was getting to know quite well. Still, there was something about the way that Saul Benton had sprung up into her life that was pleasing to her—like the exotic romance that never was but she’d always dreamed about. She felt like a naïve teenage girl whenever she thought about him and she hated herself for it.
It was that hate that was partly responsible for finally motivating her into action. The long afternoons drinking alone on the porch and the wasted mornings crying in bed lasted only five weeks or so. Her self-loathing and the very real fear that the dangers in Red Creek may not really be over had inspired her to improve herself.
Kara started by running three miles four times a week. After two weeks, she upped it to five miles. A few more weeks found her throwing herself into a brutal workout regimen. She hired the services of a personal instructor in the nearby town of Keysville and started learning basic boxing and kickboxing skills. Within a week, the instructor told her that she was a natural. Within three weeks, something inside of Kara clicked and she became very much aware of the fact that she was undergoing this training to become a better fighter. If she was ever caught in a situation like the one against the Greelys again, she wanted to be better prepared; she didn’t want to have to hide again, only coming to the aide of her unlikely friends when things nearly got out of hand.
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