by Deanna Chase
I move my left hand into my pocket, finding the little canister of pepper spray. It’s useless against vampires but it’ll work against Nicky.
Her hand feints forward and Medici flinches. Nicky giggles. ‘You can try. But as soon as you do, I’ll unleash my little wonder drug and before you can so much as say fuck, you’ll be mine to do with as I please. You fucked with my life, now I’m going to fuck with yours.’
‘Let Bo go, Nicky, then we can talk.’
‘But I don’t want to talk, Lord Montserrat. I want to destroy you.’
Without warning she lets me go, one hand curving out towards the group of Family Heads and the other pulling out a gleaming blade which flashes in my direction. I have no more time. I pull out the pepper spray and hold it up, pressing down on the nozzle at the same time as I feel the steel sink into my flesh. Both Nicky and I scream. I’m dimly aware of figures leaping forward and someone grabbing me again, although this time it’s with gentle hands rather than a force wanting to kill. I push outwards, trying to stop Nicky getting what she wants and throwing the spell in the Heads’ direction. Instead my hand meets air and I’m sinking. Blackness forms around the edges of my vision, and the light of the clock face disappears into a tiny pinprick. Then there’s nothing.
Epilogue
‘So you’re Sanguine then?’ The voice above me is familiar but I can’t quite place it. ‘You know it’s quite a feat. There are only three Sanguines in the world.’
Someone murmurs a reply. I struggle to open my eyes. When I do, I see Peter and Nell. They grin at me then abruptly disappear through the open door. A minute later, Montserrat appears. For once he’s dressed casually, in a tight black v-necked t-shirt. The edges of his winged tattoo are just visible from beneath his sleeves.
‘You’re awake.’ He looks worried, although I can’t think why. He places a cool hand on my forehead and brushes away a few errant curls. ‘You almost didn’t make it.’
‘What happened?’ I croak.
‘Your timely intervention with that spray gave us enough leeway to get her.’
‘Is she…?’
‘Dead?’ he shakes his head. ‘Actually, no. She’s being held at one of our facilities. She’s a troubled young woman.’
I almost laugh. ‘Troubled’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. ‘She wanted revenge.’
Montserrat nods. ‘When she was ten years old, she killed her parents and then tried to kill herself by leaping out of a window. She convinced herself that vampires were to blame. She created an entire set of false memories to fuel her vendetta. It was easier for her to find someone else to blame rather than to remember the truth.’
‘The recruitment process is supposed to be stringent.’ I want to yell, but I don’t have the energy to manage more than a whisper.
‘We knew what she’d done. She was a child when it happened, Bo, a screwed-up kid who suffered years of abuse at her father’s hands while her mother stood idly by. Something in her simply snapped. Under those circumstances, can you really say it was her fault?’
I stare at him mutely, thinking about the real effects of O’Shea’s spell. It would offer a way to ensure you were never a victim again.
He continues. ‘After the attack, she spent ten years in a mental institution before she was released. She fooled everyone into thinking she was alright.’
‘You recruited a murderer.’
‘We’re vampires, Bo. We already walk on the dark side. We recruited her to help her.’
‘You’re not supposed to be evil.’
‘We’re not. We offer respite to many who end up on the wrong path. We give them a way out. Your friend Beth was a prostitute who had a sideline as a gang member and who was definitely living on borrowed time. Nell was a thief. We’ve got drug addicts and murderers. Not everyone is a criminal but for those who are, we provide an alternative. We help those whose lives are on a trajectory to hell. It’s what we were trying to do for Nicky but we didn’t realise the extent of her false beliefs about that night.’
He gazes at me for a moment, as if willing me to understand. I think about the other recruits in my group – the ex-politician with the shady past, Peter’s mysterious comments about deserving to suffer, Ria and Ursus’s violent attack, my grandfather’s admonition that I couldn’t trust the vampires … it had been staring me in the face in the entire time. Is every single vampire someone who should be behind bars instead of roaming around freely?
‘Arzo’s not a criminal,’ I say weakly.
‘Not everyone is. Not everyone’s darkness involves breaking the law.’
Arzo’s only fault had been falling in love with the wrong person. I wonder what Michael’s darkness involves. I am finding it hard to get my head around it all. The fact that vampires are above human law now feels like an affront to humanity. I admit that the shroud of secrecy around the vampires’ recruitment policies is starting to make a lot more sense. By taking in criminals, they keep the rest of the world safe. But they give those criminals unlimited power when they reap the benefits from drinking blood. They should be punished, not rewarded.
Michael seems to know what I’m thinking. ‘It’s amazing what a little structure and loyalty can do, Bo. Our Families keep everyone in check. Think of us as a military boarding school but more permanent. We keep everyone’s darker natures at bay because of what they become when they drink. But after they turn, they also toe the line and make amends for their previous lives. We see to it that they do. If there’s the slightest hint of criminal activity, they’re executed. Quite frankly, until Nicky we’ve never had a problem. And why would we suspect her above anyone else? Your friend Peter is another one, you know. Many people find that they can achieve redemption through joining us.’
My mouth twists. ‘Drinking blood absolves you of your sins? It seems to me it just creates more.’
‘The humans who offer themselves to us do so freely,’ he says, gently chiding me.
I scowl. ‘So you say. Forget the humans. Your vampires should be in jail.’
‘What’s the purpose of prison? Is it to rehabilitate or to punish? We make people on the fringes of society into useful contributors to the world.’
‘Nicky was not a useful contributor to anything.’
His expression shutters. ‘With her we made an error.’
‘You bet you fucking did.’
I realise that Montserrat felt the same way about Nicky that I did. Pity for her situation moved him to help her by allowing her recruitment, in the same way that pity for her led me into believing she was an innocent. She pulled the wool over all our eyes. But it doesn’t change the fact that Tam and Charity and everyone else would still be alive if it wasn’t for the way the Families do things.
I struggle into a sitting position. I feel a bit sore but otherwise alright. It’s a miracle considering how it felt when Nicky plunged that cold steel into me.
I think about the fact that Montserrat didn’t show up at Big Ben until it was almost over. ‘Lady Bancroft. Is she dead?’
His muscles tense and he jerks out a nod. ‘She knew the risks.’
‘It was a trap. You knew that if you told everyone you were going to meet, you’d lure the perpetrator to you.’
‘It was too good an opportunity to miss. We had it all planned. Until you showed up.’
‘You didn’t damn well tell me your plan, did you? If you had, I’d have left you to it.’
A ghost of a smile races across his lips. ‘No, you wouldn’t. I’ve got to know you quite well over the last weeks. You’d never let the action slip by.’
‘You could have told me,’ I say stubbornly.
He sighs and pushes back his hair. ‘I was going to. I was even going to invite you to wait with Bancroft.’ He throws me a remorseful glance. ‘We thought that with her ability to control others with her mind, the traitors wouldn’t have a chance. But Nicky’s mind was already so warped that anything Lady Bancroft tried couldn’t work. Maybe if you’d been there t
hings would have been different, but you were too weak, Bo. You could barely stand up.’
‘I could stand up well enough to climb to the freaking top of Big Ben.’
‘And apparently knock someone out along the way.’
I’d forgotten about Boris. ‘Is he…?’
‘The police have him. He should be grateful. Medici would have quite happily tortured him for the rest of his natural life.’
I mull over all that has happened. Lack of communication was my downfall, not just with the final showdown with Nicky but all along the way. I think about the laptop I was given. I had the information about Nicky at my fingertips but I dismissed her out of hand because she was a recruit like me. Lady Bancroft knew instantly that the mastermind could be a recruit but I didn’t talk to her until it was too late. I can blame Michael Montserrat all I want but I’ve made a shitload of mistakes too. There were so many points when communicating more clearly and with more honesty would have made life easier. I resolve never to let that happen again.
My stomach grumbles and I realise I’m absolutely starving. I need to get something to eat. ‘What day is it?’
‘Monday.’
My heart sings. ‘It’s over. And the lunar month is over.’
Montserrat looks away. Doubt trickles through me. ‘What?’ I reach out and grip his broad forearm. ‘What is it?’
‘Your injuries were very severe, Bo.’
‘But I’m fine,’ I tell him. ‘I feel fine.’
He turns his gaze back on me. There’s some unfathomable emotion in his dark eyes. I shake my head. ‘No.’
‘Bo, there wasn’t a choice. You either took strength from human blood or you died.’
‘No, no, no, no, no, no.’
‘Bo,’ he begins.
‘I heard someone say I was Sanguine!’ I burst out. ‘Two minutes ago! Right after I woke up!’
Montserrat stands up and begins to pace. ‘If there had been another way, I’d have done anything I could.’
‘I heard…’
‘Peter,’ he says. ‘Peter Allen is Sanguine. I don’t think his heart was ever in vampirism, despite the relief it would have offered him.’
My mouth is dry. I try to speak but the words won’t come out. He’s got to be lying. This is some kind of sick vampire joke. Montserrat sighs and hands me a small mirror. I swallow and stare down. The truth stares me in the face. Inside both my pupils there’s the telltale red dot.
‘It’s not so bad, you know. You might grow to like it.’
I bring the mirror closer to my face. I’m a fucking vampire. Not only that but I’m a fucking vampire surrounded by criminals. All I feel is despair.
Montserrat clears his throat and hands me a glass. I take it morosely. It’s filled with blood and my stomach grumbles again as I swirl the viscous red liquid. I can feel tears springing to my eyes. I squeeze them shut, lift the glass to my lips and drink.
New Order, the next thrilling installment in the Bo Blackan series is available to buy here. Don’t forget you can also make sure you never miss out on details of all new releases, competitions and offers by signing up for Helen’s newsletter at http://helenharper.co.uk
About the author
After teaching English literature in the UK, Japan and Malaysia, Helen Harper left behind the world of education following the worldwide success of her Blood Destiny series of books. She is a professional member of the Alliance of Independent Authors and writes full time although she still fits in creative writing workshops with schools along with volunteering to teach reading to a group of young Myanmar refugees. That’s not to mention the procession of stray cats which seem to find their way to her door!
Helen has always been a book lover, devouring science fiction and fantasy tales when she was a child growing up in Scotland.
Helen currently lives in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia with far too many cats – not to mention the dragons, fairies, demons, wizards and vampires that seem to keep appearing from nowhere.
Other titles by Helen Harper
The Bo Blackman series
New Order
High Stakes
Red Angel
Vigilante Vampire COMING NOVEMBER 2015
Bo Blackman Box Set (Books 1 – 3)
The Blood Destiny series
Bloodfire
Bloodmagic
Bloodrage
Blood Politics
Bloodlust
Blood Destiny Box Set (The complete series: Books 1 – 5)
Also
- Corrigan Fire
- Corrigan Magic
- Corrigan Rage
- Corrigan Politics COMING OCTOBER 2015
The Dreamweaver series
Night Shade
Night Terrors
The Olympiana series
Eros
Lyre
Dog with a Bone
Hailey Edwards
Black Dog, Book 1
Half-bloods with Thierry’s skill set are given two options. They can join the conclave’s marshal program, or they can pack their bags. Turn down the job offer, and you’ve just shredded your residency pass for the mortal realm and booked yourself a one-way ticket to Faerie.
Texas is the only home Thierry has ever known, and she’s not going anywhere. Even if it means following in her notorious father’s footsteps as a peacekeeper. But pinning on the badge opens her eyes to the fact sometimes fae need protection too, and that sometimes humans are the real monsters.
Chapter One
Burnt ozone tingled in my nose. I inhaled deeply, but all I scented was the coming storm. Thunder boomed overhead, rumbling through the ground under my feet. I was still hunched behind a twisted metal sculpture of a giant rooster when the first lukewarm raindrops splattered on my cheeks.
Movement on my right slammed the brakes on my heart. I squinted where I thought I glimpsed a pale blur, but the sun was too far gone and the scrapyard too dark for me to tell what it had been.
My left palm tingled with suppressed energy. My kind of magic wasn’t allowed at the marshal academy.
I had to go. Every second I stood here exposed on three sides was an opportunity to get caught. I filled my lungs until they burned then exhaled slowly, hoping for a clue. Nothing.
It’s now or never.
Shoving off the rooster’s metallic wing, I ran as fast as I could toward the tower at the center of the rusting maze. Even this far away I spotted the white flag plastered against its pole. If I could just reach it, all this ended. Done. Over. If I had that flag, I could go home. If I got there first.
That was a whole lot of ifs.
“Cadet Thackeray,” a low voice rumbled.
My pulse leapt. New plan. Forget the tower. If Shaw had my taste in his mouth, he would not let me reach it. I needed a new hiding spot now before he got close enough to use his lure on me. Once I drew in the hot scent of his skin, it was over. I was lost. His heat would snare me, and I would be his.
As if I wasn’t already.
After darting past a promising heap, I hesitated until spotting a pair of large red ears sticking up from behind the twisted carcass of what once was a desk. Mai. Best friends shared a lot of things, but their hiding place during final exam was not one of them. I left the small fox to her den and kept running.
Sliding around the corner, I left the small-parts section of the yard and headed toward the stacks of crushed vehicles and rusted-out skeletons of construction equipment. I always avoided this section and the prickly sensation it inspired on my nape. Granted, the odds of the stacks falling and crushing me to a half-blooded fae pulp were pretty slim, but I didn’t want to be the exception that proved the rule.
Mud splashed up my legs and soaked my sneakers. I paused to scent the wind, gulping a lungful of patchouli-and-bergamot-flavored air. My skin sizzled and my head whirled as I fought the urge to follow that hot fragrance to the even hotter man producing it. Bastard. He wasn’t playing fair. Incubus lures were too damn tasty, and I was already n
ursing one hell of a sweet tooth where my instructor was concerned.
With a frustrated growl, I wound through the automotive graveyard until I stumbled past a truck with its cab mostly intact. I crawled over an engine block to reach the door handle and gave it a tug. Water lubricated its rusty hinges, and it swung open with a soft whine. I crawled inside and sank onto the floorboard.
Five minutes to catch my breath. Then I would make a break for it. The tower wasn’t that far. I wasn’t the only prey trapped in this corrugated maze, nor was I the easiest mark out there.
I relaxed into the darkness while mentally pinpointing my location and my best exit strategy.
Scratching noises perked my ears. I tensed, ready to bolt, but heard only rain pelting the roof.
Praying I hadn’t plopped down into a mouse nest, I held still and turned my thoughts back to the quickest way to reach the tower. It was tall, built like a tree stand. Climbing it would be a piece of—
I heard it again. Claws raked over metal. Louder this time.
Lightning struck as I peered through the driver’s side window, outlining a pale, masculine shape. Cruel nails, bone white and razor sharp, traced a rivulet of water down the glass. The handle clicked. I kicked out and jammed my heel down on the stubby door lock. Through the pane, Shaw glowered.
I felt pretty smug until he speared his fingers into the seams and tore the door from its frame.
“You should have run,” he said, fingers circling my ankle and jerking me toward him.
