Honor at Stake (Love at First Bite Book 1)

by Declan Finn

  Amanda smiled and waved to her. To Marco, she lowered her voice when she said, “That was fun. She may still want you.”

  Marco finished waving, and turned around so he wouldn't have to keep his face neutral anymore. “What do you mean?”

  “I made possessive movements, indicating my ownership of you,” Amanda explained, her Russian accent thickening over the awkward wording, “and her response was to modify her voice to attempt seduction. It is universal and consistent.”

  Marco looked over his shoulder at the fleeing couple and scoffed. He shook his head, and looked back to Amanda. “I'd rather have you, here, now, as a friend, than have her climb into my lap, naked. Come on, I think it's time to get out of here.”

  * * * *

  January 2nd

  “Marco, get in here, would you?”

  Marco followed the sound of his father's voice, and entered the microbiology lab. His father held up a blood culture plate and looked right at him. “What do you think?”

  Marco glanced at the plate. Blood agar plates were used to grow bacteria, usually off of swabs from wounds, or for throats. They were red, encased in a plastic shell and lid. What grew on the plate could then be sampled and put under a microscope for identification.

  In this case, the blood culture looked like it had been poked full of holes.

  “Somebody had fun with a set of scissors?” Marco suggested, examining the sample. “A small set of scissors?”

  “This had the culture from one of the victims.”

  Marco winced, his mind racing as fast as possible. So it was something that could eat holes in a blood culture plate, and he had been dancing around the issue of vampires for the last few weeks.

  “Did someone break in?”

  His father shook his head. “Not unless they could reach through the case. It was locked.”

  “I suppose this means that the Invisible Man couldn't have done it either, doesn't it?”

  “No, he couldn't have,” Robert said with all seriousness. “The security cameras show that the door on the incubator never opened.”

  “Goody.” Marco sighed, and thought himself an idiot for even suggesting the next idea that popped into his head. It was the only theory, however, that fit what he saw. “So we should assume that whatever this is eats blood?”

  Robert nodded. “That seems to be the case. The next step is to take a look at the viral plates.”

  “You want me to look at those?”

  “That would help. I already sent some samples to the CDC. If it eats blood, I can only hope this is as rare and as contagious as a flesh eating bacteria. Otherwise, this could get bad in a hurry.”

  Marco nodded. “I'm on it.”

  * * * *

  Marco looked into the microscope, examining what his father had tried to culture.

  He immediately saw the problem, or at least one of the problems, with the blood culture plates. It certainly wasn't a bacteria. It was most definitely a virus.

  Well, that explains why I had to turn up the magnification so damned high.

  Marco had spent plenty of time looking at viruses, trying to memorize them like the local cop would go through a book of mug shots. This didn't match any of them.

  Maybe it's time to call Amanda, if only to see if she's run across anything like this in the time she’s been around.

  The sound of crashing glass from down the hall broke Marco’s focus. He jerked away from the microscope, listening for the next sound. This part of the building was locked right now. Like most labs, it had a biometric security system. No one whose palm-prints didn't match the scanner could get through the door.

  Glancing over the lab, Marco looked over his options. He wasn't encouraged. No scalpels. Mostly glass tubes, pens, and slides. The microscope was heavy, but unwieldy. If he went with his usual assumption that things would go wrong in the worst possible way, then the sound would be that of invaders. People too stupid to know better about where anything should go, like viruses instead of valuable hospital supplies.

  Maybe I should just point them to the methadone and the pain killers, let them off themselves with an overdose down the road. Though, if they can get past security, this may not be as pleasant as an addict.

  Marco leaned against the stool and waited. The lights were on, and attracted all manner of pests. Druggies were no different.

  The intruder entered the lab. Dark hair, Hispanic, but seriously pale, almost dead. It was the sort of person you crossed the street to avoid, and kept looking over your shoulder until he departed of his own accord.

  Obviously a long term substance abuser.

  “Sorry,” Marco said, surprising the intruder by both his presence and his matter-of-fact reaction. “Wrong part of the building. You want the area with the armed guards and such, and the security. This is the micro lab.”

  The intruder studied Marco, an amusing insect too stupid to know he was in trouble. He grinned with a broad smile.

  “I’m here for your father, Marco Catalano. I have business with him.”

  Hm, what's worse? Marco thought. That he knows Dad, or knows me? “Sorry, he's out. What business?”

  The intruder's mouth twitched, as though he considered smiling, but didn't quite remember how. “He's been asking questions. Inconvenient questions. Questions that shouldn't be asked.”

  “Yes, that's generally what happens when questions are inconvenient. People ask them,” Marco replied, his smile never once flickering, his own sincerely amused. He slipped the toe of his shoe around the chair leg. “It is a family trait, I suppose. Always getting in trouble. It never fails. Seriously. But, sorry, my father isn't here right now. You'll just have to call back later. Maybe leave a memo or something, because I'm not your secretary.”

  “If you won't tell him anything, then I guess you'll serve as my message.”

  He growled, and Marco didn't wait for him to make a move. He swept the stool with his foot, sending the chair right into the man's face. With a quick burst forward, he followed up with a kick to the groin and drove his elbow down into the back of his head. Marco wasted no time in grabbing the stool, bringing it up, then down on the same spot his elbow had landed.

  This last attack sent the intruder sprawling.

  Then he pushed off into a roll, almost flying across the room. Marco blinked, holding the chair aloft still.

  The intruder turned. He bore long incisors, his eyes glowing red.

  Vampire. I should’ve guessed. This could be a problem.

  Chapter Nine: Hospital Visit

  When Marco Catalano started training in Krav Maga, he didn't expect to put it to the test against a vampire who had broken into the microbiology lab. He had to keep his cool, however. Heaven knew he couldn’t run; outrunning this guy would be impossible.

  “Oh, you're a vampire, is that all?” Marco said, then dropped the stool, and stuck both hands in his pockets. His eternal smile didn't flicker. “Why didn't you say so? Come on then, what's keeping you?”

  Within seconds, Marco went through every possible combination of what the vampire could do next.

  Simple lunge and slash.

  Throw beaker and charge.

  Try for stupid ninja move, kicking off of the wall—unlikely.

  Roll towards me to close the distance, or even spring up behind me.

  Oh, wait, he's bending his knees and leaning back. Despite all super-speed these guys have, they have no concept that, yes, they are still telegraphing their every move.

  The vampire smiled a split second before he lunged for Marco, his arms out in an attempt to swat him like an ant.

  Marco sidestepped him, and the vampire charged right into a cabinet. He never saw it coming when Marco's hands launched out of his pockets, whipping out a set of rosary beads around the vampire's throat.

  Marco grabbed both ends and pulled with all his strength.

  The snap and hiss of burning flesh was instantaneous. The vampire gagged and coughed, thrashing at Marco behind him.
He tried to grab, kick, snap, and claw, but the burst of frantic energy quickly slipped away, countered by the power of the rosary. The vampire was left with normal strength, as generated by human muscles. He tried to twist, charging towards Marco. Marco merely turned out of the way, and swung the vampire around, staying behind him. Marco crossed his hands, crossing the rosary over itself, and locking the vampire's neck in the improvised garrote. He threw his shoulder into the vampire's back, pushing the creature to its knees. A knee to the vampire's spine, laid him flat on the floor, face down.

  The burning continued, even as the vampire finally stopped flailing.

  Marco paused for a moment before jerking back on the chain. There were questions that needed to be answered. Why his father? Why Marco? What questions could Robert Catalano have asked that could get the attention of vampires?

  The first, the only, thing that came to mind was the strange element of the blood work done on the victims. More precisely, the microscopic traces left in the wound tracks.

  Since the attacks had become more ferocious by the day, there was only one place he could turn to for help.

  It also happened to be the first person he was angry at right now.

  Marco gave a final jerk on the rosary, fully decapitating the vampire. His head rolled off of its shoulders, and turned to dust as it hit the floor.

  When Marco Catalano rose from the floor, he was not smiling.

  * * * *

  As Marco made his way to Amanda Colt's apartment, he felt the rage boiling within him. It burned his veins, his brain, and made his heart race. There was one thought in his head. It echoed over and over, bouncing around his skull like bells in a church tower.

  Amanda lied to me. She lied to me. I trusted her and she lied to me…

  Someone was coming out of the apartment building when Marco stormed up to the door. He brushed past the resident and pushed into the building.

  He took the stairs two at a time, and focused all of his annoyance on one goal–getting to Amanda's apartment. When he reached his destination, he didn't knock, but he raised a knee, kicking the door instead. The impact was loud enough to sound like a shot. The door was well constructed; he knew it wouldn't give, but that wasn’t the point.

  The door opened. Amanda stood there in a plush white robe, her hair turned dark red from water. The scent of shampoo and soap was fresh. Most men in his position would have been startled speechless by the sheer sexiness quotient. This kind of radiant, angelic beauty only appeared in Hollywood and commercials for soap products.

  Marco ignored it all and pushed into her apartment.

  Amanda smiled despite registering the dramatic change in his usual demeanor, and closed the door. “Is something wrong?”

  Marco stared at the wall with weapons. He tried to keep his temper, as he said through gritted teeth, “The truth.”

  She arched a brow. She readjusted her robe a little tighter around her, and wrapped her arms in a hug over her chest. Any other day, Marco would have seen the stance as adorable. “About what?”

  “About what?” he roared. He whirled about. He was completely oblivious to anything adorable in their present situation. “That vampires were snacking on friends of mine. You asked my father to swab wound tracks. You must have at least suspected that they were bite marks. 'Oh, it couldn't be a gang of vampires, they're not that coordinated,'” he mocked, mimicking her statement from Christmas Eve. “By the way, thanks for the rosary, it came in handy when a goddamn vampire tried to eat me!”

  She was genuinely surprised. “Someone attacked you?”

  Marco nodded, his eyes wide as he moved in on her. “Yeah, and you know why? Because my father sent off samples of our swabs to the CDC when those samples ate the blood in the culture plates.”

  “Oh. I see how that would be a problem.”

  “Oh, no,” Marco said, the sarcasm dripping from his words to burn acid in the carpet, “That? That wasn't a problem. The problem is that they came looking for my father!”

  He stepped closer to Amanda, deliberately violating her personal space, though she didn't move one way or another. “Let's face it. He isn't exactly up on the whole vampire thing. The next time we might not be that lucky. I would like it if my family isn't eaten in the meantime. Do you understand that? I don't like secrets when they can get family killed. You said no, vampires couldn't be behind this spree of killings. And then, after I swab a victim, a vampire comes in and tries to kill me. Now, surprise, vampire.”

  Without even a blink, or a perceptible change in respiration, Amanda met his eyes. “Is Lily a secret that could get me killed?”

  Marco stopped dead. His dark blue eyes turned darker; storm clouds signaled an oncoming squall. “Don't go there. No one goes there, so don't even try it.”

  “I know. But it is a fact. You had friends before me, Marco. Now you don't. I find that odd. Is something there that is going to harm me?”

  Only if you get close to me. Only if I start to give a damn about you. If that happens, then, oh yes, very much so. People die.

  His outward appearance didn't change as he said, “I find it irrelevant to the topic of my father almost being eaten tonight because you didn't give me all the information we need.”

  “We?” She stepped closer to him, the two of them almost chest to chest. “What would you tell your father? There are vampires, someone he wants for your girlfriend is one of them? If he mentioned that to CDC, things would get complicated, da?”

  Marco scoffed. “So what? He likes you. We tell him you're a bloodsucker, he'd probably point you at people to dine on.”

  “What if he thinks that I am the killer?”

  “Don't be stupid. I know it's a five-vampire team—one for the neck, and one for each arm and leg. If I can see that, so can he.”

  “There are FBI profilers who could not reach that conclusion so easily,” she said, her anger turning to curiosity. “How did you know that?”

  Right then he knew he was starting to reveal parts of himself that he didn't want Amanda to see.

  Marco's fury immediately calmed, pulling it back before things got messy. “Five bite mark, five vampires. You say they don't need much, so a vampire wouldn't need more than one bite—a human body has five quarts of blood. Simultaneous bites allow for even distribution, even if they only take half of that. I suspect the reason we have the survivors we do is related to the healing properties of the saliva. One bite from you lets me throw manhole covers like Frisbees, so five bites should theoretically give someone the strength to live through losing half their blood supply.

  “Given that the number of attacks is escalating,” he continued, “that means that the number of groups is escalating. Not to mention that they are highly organized, if they can kill like clockwork…completely opposite from what you’ve previously told me, I might add. Given the quality of the people they've attacked, that means only two things: one, they want to stay low key and are smart enough to kill only the local scum nobody’s going to miss; and two, they aren't local, otherwise, they would know not to go after the Dragon-Tiger crowd. Which means, for your information, that they're in the line of fire, too.”

  Amanda took a breath, then let it out slowly. “I did not know for certain. Everything you say makes sense, though. I even suspected, but I could not be sure. What would you have done, Marco, if I’d known something and I told you? Increase security? Go hunting? We would need armies to patrol, like street cops. I am not telling police to look for vampires. I suggest you do not, either.”

  Marco stared at her for a long moment, as though she'd gone completely insane. Because being a vampire wasn't crazy enough. Then he burst out into a loud belly laugh that made him double over.

  It was Amanda's turn to look at him like he was insane. “What is so funny?”

  “You want to protect me?” he said, roaring with laughter. “You want to protect me!”

  When his laughter finally died down, he took a deep breath. “Hi, have we met?”
r />   “I know you are a good fighter. And you know some police officers–”

  “Who said anything about going to the police?” he said, an evil smile slowly spreading across his face. It was like his usual one, and it, too, didn't flicker. “I have a small army of gang wannabes. I think it's time for me to use them.”

  Amanda was taken aback. “Do you truly believe that they would do this?”

  Marco nodded. “Yes.”

  “Because they fear you?”

  “Because I have earned their respect. I have taken the tactics and discipline I learned, and I used it to mold them into an effective fighting force. They owe me.”

  “They also fear you.”

  “They respect me.” He paused a moment, and the smile stayed fixed. “And they fear me. I believe in the power of feudalism, Amanda. In this situation, I am the feudal lord. Come on. We're going to call Vega and Nyugen, get them and their lazy gang-bangers in shape. Then we're going to sic them on the forces of darkness.”

  Amanda cocked her head, her still-dripping hair falling to one side like a curtain on a crooked rod. “May I at least dry my hair first? Maybe get dressed?”

  For the first time, Marco looked her up and down, as though he hadn't noticed her state of dress. “Nah, go out like that. It'll at least get their attention.”

  * * * *

  January 3rd 3:00 a.m.

  Hector Vega and Zeng Nyugen gazed at Marco and Amanda bleary-eyed, as the four of them sat together in the hospital waiting room.

  “Three in the morning, dude? Really?” The leader of the Tigers was dressed in a hand-tooled brown leather jacket.

  His shorter counterpart wore a high-gloss, black-leather jacket that resembled plastic. “Are you nuts, man?”

  Amanda had changed into a long-sleeved gold sweater and jeans. She could dress faster than Marco could leave her apartment.

  Vega glanced around the waiting room. Despite the time, there were still people hanging around. “Could we take this outside?”

  Marco looked around the few patients waiting to be seen. “We can do it somewhere else. Not outside, though.”