Vampire Bites: A Taste of the Drake Chronicles

by Alyxandra Harvey

  “I do,” Posy said. “And I do what needs doing.”

  “Not all vampires are evil,” Cass said firmly. “Some of them are good.”

  Helena honestly didn’t know which category Liam fell into. Even after he’d kissed her that one time.

  Maybe especially because of that kiss.

  “One of them saved Wolf once,” Cass added.

  Liam had saved her too, damn it.

  Wolfgang nodded. “Back in my drinking days,” he said crisply. “Drank myself stupid and nearly got bit for the pleasure. Some woman wearing the strangest dress, like Queen Victoria herself, saved me. Never saw her again.”

  “You saved Cass’s life tonight. I can’t ever repay that,” Posy said softly.

  Helena squirmed, embarrassed. “It’s fine.” If the old woman offered her money she’d walk out. She wouldn’t take pity or charity. Even though her stomach grumbled just seeing the bowl of fruit on the counter, and that was after she had eaten two-and-a-half sandwiches. She wondered if she could steal a few for the girls and sneak out before dawn. Iphigenia loved oranges.

  “What do you know about Liam Drake?” she asked. She may as well get information while she was here.

  “Not much,” Posy admitted. “He keeps to himself. Haven’t seen him since I was a girl, and that was only because I snuck out to meet a boy. Your granddad,” she added as an aside to Cass. “I saw Liam first. Looks exactly the same, even now.” She looked at her wrinkled hands. “Hell of a thing.”

  “Wait, so he’s really old?” Helena asked. Posy speared her with a look. Cass giggled. “I mean …”

  “I know what you meant, young lady,” she said, disgruntled. “But yes, he’s older than I am.”

  It was totally wrong that someone so old could be that hot. He should have dentures and a comb-over. It made her head hurt.

  “Drakes keep to themselves,” Wolfgang confirmed. “Probably for the best.”

  “I hope you’ll stay the night,” Posy offered, even though Helena still had a hundred questions about Liam. “I still have the bunk beds from when my granddaughters were little. It’s just Cass now that Lucinda’s away at university. Or you can take the couch.” She ran a hand over Cass’s hair, as if checking to make sure she was still okay. “Those vampires saw your face, Helena, and they have long memories. They might come back. I hope you’ll let us help you.”

  “I’ll take the couch,” she said reluctantly, mentally kissing her prize money good-bye. “But just for tonight.”

  Besides, she knew in the primal, hidden corners of herself—the parts that recognized the electric smell of an approaching storm—that someone was out there in the darkness.

  Watching her.

  The girl was going to be a problem.

  Helena snuck out of Posy’s house as dawn turned the sky the color of tangerines. She took some food but left the handful of dollar bills crumpled on the coffee table. It took her twenty minutes to walk to their squat under the bridge. The wild tiger lilies masked most of her movements, though no one was likely to be about that early. Even the crazy joggers with their sweatbands and matching leg warmers waited until there was a little more light.

  She found the others sleeping under their sleeping bags, except for Iphigenia, who was huddled with her knees to her chest. Her lower lip trembled when she saw Helena crawl under the ivy they’d pulled down as a screen. Only one of the candles stuck into the craggy wall was lit. The light made her look even younger and thinner. “You’re back!” she exclaimed. “We thought you’d be taken.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, tossing Iphigenia one of the stolen oranges.

  Portia sat up, her hair tilting dramatically to the left. Her eyes were red and worried but the kick she aimed at Helena’s ankle was vicious. “Where the hell have you been?”

  Helena jerked back, ankle throbbing. “I ran into some trouble.”

  “Good.” Sofia scowled, opening one eye. Billie kept on snoring, oblivious. “You punched me in the face, you bitch.”

  Helena wasn’t remotely sorry. “You punched me first.”

  “Grady wants you to fight again tonight. Wear something pretty.”

  “Kiss my ass.”

  Helena grabbed a few hours’ sleep, ignoring the girls as they devoured the fruit she’d left for them. When she woke up there was only a banana left, on which Sofia had written rude things with a marker. Helena ate it anyway, then rinsed her mouth out with the mouthwash they hoarded like candy. It was their single prized possession and the first thing they bought with any scrounged money, before hot dogs, before coffee when they were able to find a decent cup, even before chocolate.

  Iphigenia watched her rinse the dried blood from her hair in the river. The water was getting cold as summer faded. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing,” Helena assured her. Iphigenia was such a worrier, she didn’t need to know. “Just don’t go anywhere alone at night,” she said. “You still have that knife?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I put it in my bag. Portia said someone was following her last night.”

  And Helena had been sure she was being watched. She slipped her own hunting knife into the side of her boot and started to climb out from under the bridge.

  Iphigenia scrambled after her. “Where are you going?”

  “To get my money off Grady before Sofia sweet-talks my share off him.”

  “I’m coming too.”

  They’d found Sofia, predictably batting her eyelashes at Grady. He was sprawled at a table near the empty ring, smoking and drinking bottled water. He claimed it kept him pretty. There was glitter in his hair. “My favorite girls,” he said. “All together.”

  Helena’s smile was brittle. “Hi, Sofia.”

  Sofia narrowed her eyes. “What?”

  Helena ignored her, looking at Grady. She didn’t smile or flirt. “Where’s my money?”

  Grady looked wounded. “Would I cheat you, darling? You ran off so fast I thought you were leaving it for me to reinvest in the Thunderdome.”

  Helena held out her hand. “Like hell.”

  He shook his head, blowing smoke rings. “You could be a little nicer, like your friend here.”

  Sofia smirked. Helena just raised an eyebrow. “I don’t do nice,” she said. “That’s why I won the fight.”

  Grady laughed and passed her a stack of folded dollar bills. He knew the lost girls preferred small bills that attracted less attention. His gaze roamed appreciatively over Iphigenia’s thin body, her huge blue eyes, and translucent skin. “When are you going to join the fun, beautiful?”

  Helena stepped in front of her. “Try never.”

  His eyes went hard. “All the girls fight for me eventually, Helena. Even your precious lost girls.”

  “Yeah, about that. You said you wouldn’t pit us against each other.”

  He grinned. “I lied.” He leered at Iphigenia. “You’re kind of skinny, but put you in a short skirt and no one will care if you punch like a girl.”

  Helena slammed her boot on the chair, right between his legs. He froze, gulping. If she pressed any harder he’d walk with a limp for the rest of his life. “Leave her out of this.”

  He swallowed audibly. “Sure.”

  Sofia walked lazily around Helena, sighing. “You’re such a drama queen.”

  Helena pressed down a little harder just to prove her point. When Grady went cross-eyed, she backed off. “Let’s go,” she told the others.

  Sofia followed more out of a show of solidarity than any real desire to go anywhere with Helena. Iphigenia followed them quietly.

  “You have to stop being such a bitch,” Sofia muttered.

  “Why?” Helena asked. “He’s sleazy.”

  “He also pays the bills, such as they are.”

  “Whatever.” She shrugged the bills off. “I have things to do. Look after Iphi.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Sof?”

  “What?”

  “Do you think vampires can be th
e good guys?”

  “Are you high?” Sofia asked. “Vampires are picking us off, remember? They’re not our friends.”

  She’d have thought the same thing before Liam found her in the alley last night.

  “Never mind.” She waited until they’d wandered off before heading deeper into the Warren. The alleys were deceptively welcoming at this time of the day, even with the afternoon sun cooking the garbage under clouds of flies. The sounds from the back doors of restaurants were cheerfully boisterous, and someone was blaring Billy Idol out of a fire escape window. Everything here made sense. Survive. Don’t be a victim. Avoid Scrawny Johnny at all costs, if you wanted to get out of the Warren with all your limbs intact. He was the meanest drunk Helena had ever seen and she’d heard the other street girls whisper about him.

  What happened last night didn’t make sense.

  Starting with the fact that she’d let her head be turned by a pretty set of cheekbones.

  Glowering, she stopped at the spot where Elisabet and Lyle had attacked her. It looked like any other alley: Dumpster, skids, litter in the groove of the pavement by the sewer. Cheerful light glinted off the peeling fire escapes, the broken windows at the top of the building on her right. Most of the storefronts were abandoned on this corner.

  She stood over a dark stain on the ground, where Cass’s blood had fallen. They’d intended her to be the next missing girl. The gash under her hairline would leave a scar. Helena intended to leave a few scars of her own.

  She investigated the entire area, even the broken skids that she’d knocked over. She didn’t find anything that might help her track down Elisabet and Lyle. If they were the ones taking all the girls, she wanted them. She wanted them dusting the end of her stake. She spent several pleasant moments envisioning her revenge.

  Until there was the soft scuff of a boot behind her.

  She’d stayed too long. The sun had set behind the buildings, casting long violet shadows. It was too dark now. Not the kind of darkness in which she could hide but the kind that hid things from her. She whirled, using her elbow like a mace. She hit a hard chest and kicked a little lower. A hand blocked the strike, held her immobile. She spun out, kicking.

  And then she was pressed against a brick wall, fingers over her mouth, gray eyes staring a warning into hers.

  “We’re not alone,” Liam mouthed. “Don’t move.”

  His hand dropped away and she drew in a shallow breath. He was even more beautiful up close. His gray irises were flecked with black and silver, his mouth inches from hers. His teeth were sharp, faintly pointed but not particularly vampiric. His body touched her from shoulder to ankle, shielding her. She didn’t know what to think. She wasn’t used to being shielded and she wasn’t entirely certain she liked it.

  But she liked it better than being caught by Elisabet and her psychotic brother.

  “I can smell her,” Elisabet murmured. “I want payback, Lyle.”

  “I know,” he replied. “Haven’t you said so a dozen times since we left the caves? She’s a street rat, she could be anywhere.”

  “No, she’s close. Can’t you smell her?” she asked again, sounding as if Helena was a pastry fresh from the oven.

  Liam eased away from her and she felt inexplicably cold. He motioned to the Dumpster beside them. Helena blinked at him. He pointed. She shook her head. He shoved her gently toward it. She dug in her heels. She was not going to hide in a pile of garbage. She had her pride. Not to mention her sense of smell.

  When she refused to move, he just picked her up and tossed her into it. She landed on old Chinese food and rotten cabbage and watched as the lid closed down over her head.

  Vampire or not, she was going to kill him.

  Twice.

  It felt like forever until the lid lifted again, letting in blessedly fresh air. His pale face came into view. “They’ve gone,” he said. He had a faint accent, almost British but not quite. She couldn’t place it. “You can come out now.”

  “That,” Helena stated, leaping over the side of the bin, “was disgusting.”

  “But necessary.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Elisabet caught your scent, love, and she knows the taste of you now. She’d have tracked you to your bed and killed you there.”

  Helena shuddered, both from the wet noodles clinging to her arm and the thought of Elisabet finding the lost girls. “Don’t call me love,” she said, just because she thought she should.

  “Come with me,” he said gently.

  “Where? Your place?” she asked acerbically.

  “The dojo at the end of the edge of the Warren has showers. I can get us inside,” he said, amused. “No offense, but you smell horrid.”

  Of course he wasn’t hitting on her. She had moldy lettuce in her hair. Feeling like an idiot, she scowled. “Fine.”

  They didn’t speak as he led her there, using the side alley next to the dojo to pick the side door lock. She watched him curiously. He flashed her a brief smile, but it was enough to make her breath catch in her throat. “I know the owner.”

  She wasn’t sure she believed him, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to smell like garbage. And she didn’t want him to smell her like this either. She slipped past him and headed across the studio to the back. She went through the door marked “Ladies” and took the fastest shower she could, watching the door the entire time. Helena washed her clothes too and slipped into a white dojo T-shirt she found in one of the lockers, along with black gi pants. She stepped back out into the studio feeling strangely vulnerable.

  Liam was silhouetted against the window, hands in his pockets. He turned to look at her. When he took a step toward her, she moved back, grabbing one of the practice staffs from the wall and holding it horizontally in front of her. “Bar’s closed, pal.”

  “I didn’t bring you here to feed on you.”

  “Then why did you?”

  “To keep you safe.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  He studied her for a quiet charged moment before moving. He was so fast he bled colors and light. He tossed the staff aside. It may as well have been a matchstick for all the good it did her. He spun her around, his arm around her neck. His voice was raw, lips brushing her ear. “If I wanted to hurt you, I could,” he said. “You’re safe with me.”

  “You have a hell of a way of proving that.” She kicked back, clipping his knee with her boot. Then she slammed her head back into his face. He stumbled, loosening his hold. She swung a fist at his pretty face but he dodged it easily. She went for a kidney punch and he caught her hand. It was like punching a wall. “Ouch.”

  Liam let her go so quickly her shoulder muscles twanged. “I’m sorry. I’ve been away from people too long. I forget how fragile they are.”

  “I’m not fragile,” she said, insulted. “I can look after myself.” She was tired of having to remind everybody of that. None of the lost girls had been captured, had they? She thought they were doing pretty well, all things considered.

  Eyes narrowing, she kicked out, leaning until she was parallel to the floor. He bent sideways, defying gravity and basic physics.

  “I really hate vampires,” she muttered again. She kicked at his knee and he sprawled on the ground. “Ha!” She probably shouldn’t gloat. Hell with that, she was totally going to gloat. She deserved it. Especially since one of the cuts on her arm from her sparring match with Sofia yesterday had opened up. Blood trickled hot and slow down her bare arm. “Think you can—”

  His face changed, eyes silver, teeth sharpening. She felt like she had that day when she’d watched him through a veil of freezing river water. She tingled and shivered. Helena lifted both her fists protectively, turned sideways. She’d barely pivoted when he was on her. He should have looked silly in his dark pin-striped suit; instead he just looked elegant, deadly. He closed in like a panther, all sleek muscles and intensity.

  There was clearly something twisted inside her that she could fin
d that kind of animal stealth so hot.

  Helena reached for the discarded staff but it was barely in her hand when he twisted her wrist and it clattered to the floor. She backed up. He followed.

  “Don’t run.” He sounded like he was pleading. She froze, inches away from the wall. “Too late,” he said, desperately.

  She should be afraid.

  She wasn’t.

  It was the weirdest thing. She felt free, powerful. As if this deadly dance was as romantic as holding hands at the drive-in. He sparked something in her, or they sparked it off each other. It didn’t matter. He was leashing his hunger, struggling to stay human. It was noble, difficult.

  Liam wasn’t like the others.

  Neither was she.

  She flashed him a crooked grin, catching him utterly off guard. Then she hooked her leg behind his knee and shoved him. When he fell, she followed him. He landed on the cold hardwood floor and she landed on him, still grinning.

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered. “I wonder why that is.”

  “Because you’re a fool.” His voice was harsh but his fingers were gentle as they slid through her hair. He traced the line of her jaw with his thumb. His other hand flattened against her lower back, brushing her skin where the edge of the T-shirt rode up. He looked at her mouth. She almost forgot how much she wanted to punch him. Her lips tingled and he hadn’t even touched her. He drew her head down to his, paused just before his mouth could claim hers.

  He let her go abruptly. “This is a bad idea.” He shoved her away and got to his feet slowly, painfully, as if he didn’t trust himself. His fists were clenched, knuckles white. “I’m sorry. I came to warn you,” he continued hoarsely. “Those two from the alley are reapers.”

  It took her a minute to get her brain off the feel of his cool muscled body under hers. Damn him for making her feel that way. Damn him for pulling away.

  And damn her for not wanting him to.

  “What the hell’s a reaper?” she asked as a cover for the question she was embarrassed to admit she wanted to ask: Why didn’t you kiss me?