Blood Judgment (Judgment Series)

by Nickie Asher

  Sharp, searing pain froze Julian as horror took control. The thick scent of fresh blood rose in the damp air. He broke free, and with a blind swing of his fist, connected with Indigo’s face.

  Indigo backed off. Blood smeared his lips and trickled from the corner of his mouth. His hand lashed out and caught Julian’s jaw in a painful grip. He jerked back, but Indigo held on.

  Eyes darkening, Indigo’s hand tightened. Something cracked. Agony exploded through Julian’s face. He howled, causing more pain with the movement of his jaw.

  Indigo dragged him close, fastened on the bleeding neck wound, and fed voraciously.

  Panicked, Julian flailed uselessly. After long moments of heart-pounding horror, his vision blurred. The alley distorted and struggling became difficult. Unable to do anything else, he stilled and lay helpless against Indigo.

  The warmth of the creature felt good, countering the deep chill taking over his body. Indigo was killing him. Moaning, he closed his eyes.

  The vampire thrust him away. Julian collapsed on the asphalt where he lay in a shivering heap. Blood flowed from the puncture wounds and ran down inside his shirt with each slow beat of his heart. He smelled it. So did the others.

  One growled, another hissed.

  Bastards. He struggled to draw his legs under him. If he could get up… Wasn’t going to happen. He tried again. The alley spun, nauseating him. Groaning, he curled up.

  He didn’t want to die in a dirty, stinking alley. He didn’t want to die at all. He was only twenty-four years old. He wasn’t ready.

  They talked among themselves, but it sounded far away as deeper coldness stole over him. He shivered and waited for unconsciousness to release him from the inescapable nightmare.

  Indigo sauntered over and dropped to his knees. Without forewarning, he bit into his own wrist and wrenched Julian’s mouth open.

  Pain cut through the fog, jerking him to full cognizance. Indigo jammed his wrist to Julian’s mouth, cutting off his agonized cry. A horrific gush of blood poured down his throat in a hot, choking surge. Gagging, he shoved at Indigo.

  Indigo grabbed a fist-full of Julian’s hair. “Drink. Or you’ll die within the hour.” He ground his wrist into position.

  Julian pushed against Indigo, trying not to swallow. He wouldn’t die if he made it to the street. Someone would help him.

  “Drink my blood or die. Your choice.” Indigo shifted his arm, straightening it until his blood flowed faster. The coppery, nasty poison pushed down Julian’s throat in a strangling rush. Choking on the hot liquid, he swallowed.

  Long minutes passed before Indigo pulled his wrist away. Gagging, Julian rolled to his side. Indigo grabbed Julian’s jacket and yanked him onto his back. “Puke and I’ll make you do it again. Got it?”

  Julian moaned, but nodded.

  Sneering, Indigo launched to his feet.

  Julian’s fingers scraped over the asphalt in halting, clawing motions as revulsion twisted his insides. Vampire blood wouldn’t convert a human. But a cross-breed would turn.

  What if Indigo was right? What if a vampire had sired him instead of a human? He sure as hell wouldn’t know. How could he when he had no memories of his father?

  Pain lanced his stomach and he curled up again. What was going to happen to him? Why hadn’t they killed him instead? Why this? A shudder ran though him. They hadn’t slaughtered him because this was worse than death.

  “That isn’t enough. He won’t survive.” The voice sounded faint and distant, unimportant.

  Julian didn’t know which vampire spoke and he didn’t care.

  As he fought to keep panic at bay, a memory of Juilliard and a student drifted up from the flotsam of his mind. A half-breed. A kid he’d hated. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the memory away.

  “It’s enough,” Indigo said. “It’ll start the conversion. I want him starving as soon as he changes. I want this little fuck to suffer.”

  “He’s in for a hard adjustment on his own,” Snake Tat said, his voice softening a tad. If he’d developed a conscience, it was too late now.

  “So. You think I give a flying shit?” Indigo strode back to Julian and patted him down. He plucked Julian’s wallet, took the money out, and discarded the rest. Then he sauntered across the alley and squatted by the violin case.

  Julian didn’t give a shit about the money, but the violin was part of him. “Please,” he said, not caring in the least that he’d been reduced to begging. “Please. Leave my violin alone.”

  Indigo popped open the snaps and went for the zippers.

  Julian tried to get up. He had to save the violin.

  Indigo clicked open the latch and lifted the lid.

  “Please, please don’t hurt it!” Julian’s heart twisted and he struggled to rise.

  The vampire took the violin from its velvet-lined case. “You won’t need this sissy-ass shit anymore.”

  “No!”

  Indigo hoisted the violin and slammed it down on the pavement. The antique instrument splintered and pieces skittered across the asphalt.

  Julian jerked as if kicked.

  Indigo took the bow from the case and ripped the horse hair from the stick. Not satisfied with that, he bent the wood until it snapped in half and tossed the pieces on Julian.

  Julian’s hands curled in helpless impotence. “You’ll pay for this,” he croaked. “Someday, you’re going to pay for this.”

  “Yeah? I’m scared.” Indigo motioned to his cohorts. “Come on, we’re done with this piece of shit.”

  Their laughter floated behind them, leaving Julian alone with the remnants of his life. His clawing fingers touched and closed on a piece of varnished wood. He made a fist around the fragment.

  Shuddering, he drew himself into a ball against the growing cold in his body. He lost track of time, of how long he laid there on the pavement.

  A few minutes, or hours, later, fat drops of rain pelted his face and the need for shelter overrode his pain. He sat up, grabbed his wallet with numb fingers, and staggered to his feet.

  A fresh wave of cutting pain assaulted his body. Shit, he was messed up.

  On unsteady legs, shivering, he considered his options. Overhead, gray, rain-thickened clouds choked the sky. He had to get moving.

  He needed medical care, but that was out of the question. Only humans received services. He couldn’t chance it. Not when he no longer knew what he was. Seeking help might backfire and send him into the clutches of the Vampire Control and Security Center. A chill crawled over him.

  His phone! He would call Tommy and he could… What? He didn’t know. Still, he fished out the phone. It rattled in his shaking hand and a crack zigzagged across the screen. He pressed the power button. No response. His gut tightened.

  What the fuck was he going to do? He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He had to get home. He’d figure it out from there.

  He took a step. His shoe crunched on the shards of the one-hundred-year-old violin. Its loss ripped his heart. With its destruction, he’d lost a friend, but the world had lost a thing of beauty. Now it, like him, was destroyed. Dead. There weren’t even enough remains to gather up.

  Forcing his feet to move, he stumbled through the alley and headed for Belltown. It took less than a block of shaky steps and shocked stares from the people he passed to know he wasn’t going to make it home.

  He cut into another alley. Warehouses flanked both sides. One had cracked and missing windowpanes. He tried the door. Locked.

  Undeterred, he wrapped his jacket around his hand and knocked the remaining glass from one of the windows. After brushing away the shards, with some difficulty, he hauled himself through the opening.

  Off-balance, he fell, landing on the concrete floor with a thud. White-hot pain shot through his brutalized body. Moaning, he curled onto his side.

  Enough light from an outside lamp filtered through the dirt-crusted windows for him to see his surroundings. Haphazard stacks of discarded
boxes, scattered skids, and trash attested to a building long devoid of use.

  When he was able, he struggled to his feet and headed for what looked like an office. The door opened onto a tiny, stale-smelling cubbyhole with ratty orange carpeting and nothing else.

  He stepped inside and closed the door. Darkness enveloped him. Feeling for the lock, he flipped it and eased down on the floor.

  Cold, shivering, and hurting, he pulled his jacket tighter and stared into black nothingness. The total darkness unnerved him. The unknown past, present, and future ate at him like crows picking his guts.

  He couldn’t be part vampire. It wasn’t possible. Fear, anger, and confusion tore through him. He found the inside pocket of his jacket where his hand closed on a tiny knife.

  Moving slowly, he managed to free himself from the remaining shreds of his expensive jacket. With shaking fingers, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his ruined shirt and rolled up the sleeves, exposing forearms bearing countless scars.

  A flicker of shame ignited, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He’d gained more than a music education at Juilliard. He’d learned how to cope. He’d learned a knife brought relief from gut-twisting guilt, relief from anguish and loneliness, and relief from the stress of constant competition.

  Right now, he needed relief.

  He opened the blade, placed it on the inside of his arm and dragged it downward. He didn’t need light to sense blood welling in a long, thin line. He made another cut and another, until everything faded and blessed relief spread through him like a drug.

  Unlike the other pain in his body, this was sweet, healing pain. Something within his control. Something he needed. Something to help him stay sane.

  JULIAN JERKED awake and lurched upright. Guts churning, clammy sweat slicked his fevered skin. Sure he was going to be sick, he rolled to his knees and folded his arms over his stomach.

  Agony slashed through him. He moaned and held himself against the pain. A second wave hit and didn’t relent. His stomach convulsed and vomit spewed from his gaping mouth. The retching continued for long awful moments until he was empty and weak.

  Shaking, he crawled away from the stinking mess and collapsed, writhing helplessly as pain cut through him.

  Time skewed. He didn’t know if the agony lasted one hour or a dozen. Even his mouth hurt. He pressed on his gums. The pain increased and something shifted under his fingers. He snatched his hand away.

  When the ache eased, he touched his canines which were now slightly elongated and sharp. He stroked his tongue over them.

  Oh, fuck.

  Shudders racked his body, but the pain lessened and that was worse.

  Because now he knew.

  Now the vampires’ hate-filled stares made sense. Ignorance was no excuse in their world.

  But, oh God, he wanted that ignorance back. He wanted what those four thieving bastards had stolen from him.

  No longer welcome among humans, he had no idea how to survive among vampires.

  Or even if he could.

  Chapter Two

  JULIAN AWOKE to the music of Seattle’s nightlife. Blinking in the darkness, he marveled at his visual acuity. He knew instinctively that he’d slept at least twenty hours. Same as he knew the sun had recently set, freeing him from the restrictions of daylight.

  Reality kicked him in the guts. For the first time in his life, he was at a complete loss. Now he was on the outside looking in. He would never again be allowed into the world that had been his for the taking. He would never perform with the symphony again. He would never have the chance to reach for stardom. Everything was gone.

  His chest ached. His stomach ached. The loss was staggering. And there was nothing he could do about it.

  Worse, he no longer knew who he was. He was now the thing he’d looked down upon. The thing he’d thought himself to be above. Insides squirming, he swallowed hard.

  The old Julian—as he now thought of his past self—was still there, trapped inside the body of a vampire. Other than the physical changes, he was the exact same. How was that possible?

  He sat up and groaned when his body responded with a mass of aches and pains. He touched his jaw and prodded his ribs. The pain had lessened and the swelling in his face had receded, but he was a long way from normal.

  Normal? What was that?

  Injuries weren’t his biggest problem, though. Hunger clawed his insides with razor-sharp nails. He wasn’t jonesing for a beer and slice of pizza either.

  He needed blood.

  His stomach turned over in revulsion even though saliva filled his mouth at the thought of the crimson liquid sliding down his throat.

  Needing blood led to another problem. It was no secret that vampires relied on feeding partners or willing human donors. Without one of those, he was fucked. Hunting humans was a capital crime. If he attacked a human and got caught, his life as a vampire would be over before it began.

  His mind wanted to reject all of it. He didn’t even know where to start sorting things out.

  Pain knifed his stomach again, spurring him to move. He left his lair through the window he’d used to break in, landing in a graceless crouch.

  With amazement, he drank in the night. Colors dazzled his eyes. Detail stood out on every object. Strange, unidentifiable scents assailed him. A breeze caressed his skin with a touch he wouldn’t have noticed before. The tiniest sounds were clear and distinct. For several minutes, he stood in awe.

  Then he moved.

  He raced through alleys, avoiding humans and the temptation flowing in their veins. Colors bled and ran together in a kaleidoscope of images. The night had beauty and, despite savage hunger, he’d never felt more alive. And it terrified him.

  He had awakened.

  When he reached the Chandler Building, he paused with uncertainty. Above the lobby doors, a discrete sign read, No Vampires Permitted For Any Reason. Yeah, that meant him. His hands curled into tight fists.

  The Chandler Building wasn’t the only place he’d be unwelcome. Most businesses and housing properties in the Restricted Zone refused vampires.

  Fuck it.

  He slid inside and made for the elevator, thankful for the empty lobby. A moment later, he arrived on the tenth floor where the doors slid open to a quiet hallway.

  His shoes whispered over blue-gray carpet to the apartment at the end of the hall. He let himself in and locked the door.

  Old coffee and cooking oil permeated the air and sent his stomach into a nasty roll.

  Everything looked the same and should have comforted him. But the sameness was an illusion. His life had shattered into a billion fragments and the next hour or so would determine the course of his new existence.

  He had to clean up and make himself appear as normal as possible. And he had to prepare for the worst.

  Expecting Tommy to accept what he’d become, what he’d always been, was asking a lot. Tommy wasn’t that strong.

  He hurried to his bedroom and stuffed clothes into a duffle bag. He checked his wallet. The plastic was still there. Visa card. Almost maxed out. ATM card. Less than five hundred dollars in the bank. No green. The bastards had stolen all the cash.

  He went to the closet and pulled out a worn violin case. He hadn’t played the instrument since he’d graduated from Juilliard and bought the old Italian violin Indigo had destroyed. It was a nice enough violin, though. And sure as hell better than nothing. He laid the case on the bed.

  Glancing about the room, he decided he had everything he needed. He had to be ready to travel light. Just in case.

  He grabbed clean clothes and his wallet, but before heading for the bathroom, he took the duffle bag and violin case into the living room. He had to be prepared, which meant being ready for eviction.

  AFTER A quick shower, Julian stood before the bathroom mirror. His hands clenched into fists that he planted on the vanity. He tried to force calm on himself and failed. He opened a drawer and snatched out a handful of small silver hoops. Despite his eff
ort to stop it, his hands shook as he stabbed the hoops into the holes in his ears, nine each. The earrings and the barbed wire tats circling his biceps were more badges of his conflicted youth.

  He flashed a toothy, humorless grin at his reflection. Reality was an ironic bitch. Every vampire movie he’d ever seen portrayed them with retractable teeth. No such luck. The damn things were always on display. No nice tricks to make blending in easier.

  Nothing was going to be easy from here on.

  He wanted to pray, to beg God to help him, but he wouldn’t do it. If God existed, He didn’t care about a vampire.

  He had to help himself. And he would.

  The apartment door opened. Closed.

  His stomach plummeted.

  Tommy was home from the symphony.

  The moisture in his mouth evaporated. He tried to swallow and steeled himself. Other than burying his mother, facing Tommy topped the list of things that sucked the root.

  Regardless, there was no putting it off. With his heart beating a too-fast tempo, he slipped into the living room where Tommy was going through the mail.

  He glanced up and shock flashed over his face. “My God, what happened to you? Who did that?”

  Julian touched his cheek.

  Tommy straightened. “What’s wrong?”

  His best friend knew him way too well. Besides the physical beating, Tommy knew something was out of whack with him. “I…”

  Tommy’s face drained to a pasty color. “What the fuck?” He backed up a step.

  Oh, shit. Julian didn’t move.

  “What the fuck?” Tommy backed farther away.

  Julian’s stomach lurched. “I—”

  Tommy held his hands up like a shield. “Stay the fuck away.”

  “What?” Julian sputtered.

  Tommy went another shade of pale. “A fucking vampire. Jesus fucking Christ.”

  “I swear to God, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have done that to you.”

  The loss of Tommy’s sister to a vampire yawned between them, the Grand Canyon of hatred and distrust.

  “You’ve got a hell of a nerve, pretending to be human. Pretending to be my friend.” The last word came out in a screech.