by Debra Dunbar
Overhead lights lit up every level of the boat. It was welcoming against the vast darkness across the ocean. As I neared, the sound of conversation mingled with the music.
Partygoers dressed in strapless dresses and polos leaned against railings holding bottled beer and cocktails. The party was already in full swing as I walked up to the boat fashionably late.
I stepped from the dock onto the lower deck. Two sets of well-lit stairs led up to the main level.
Fragments of light flashed from a mammoth-sized flat screen playing a basketball game without the sound. The music was at just the right volume that got under my skin in a good way that coursed through my body while still allowing me to make out what people in my immediate vicinity were saying.
No one intercepted me as I weaved my way through the crowd and surveyed the ice chest. I helped myself to a beer, not caring what I selected so long as it was cold. The brand was unfamiliar to me. I studied it beneath the bright lights. The label said 10 SAINTS with a halo above the “0.” Hand crafted beer aged in rum casks. Fitting. It was nice to see something more exotic than Budweiser or Coors.
Snatching one of the brass bottle openers beside the ice chest, I popped the lid and took a swig.
“Any good?” a guy in a cream tank top asked with a friendly smile. He held a dark beer in his left hand with a red-and-black label.
“Not bad,” I said.
We moved aside to make room for a small group of girls in bikini tops flocking to the ice chest. Sidestepping the giggling girls, we claimed a small opening between the drink station and crowd gathered in front of the flat-screen TV. My new friend sounded American and looked too tan to be a vampire. Either he was a bodybuilder or kept in incredibly great shape on his own. He had that all-American boy-next-door charm about him. No doubt the female vamps would want to eat him up—Cassie included. Or perhaps I’d steal Mr. All-American away from them first.
I could practically feel the gleam in my eyes at the thought of competing for the same juicy morsel.
All’s fair in blood and war.
Mr. All-American cocked his head to the side. “Someone told me there’s a dozen different types of Caribbean beer at this party. I’ve made a plan to try them all before the night’s out.”
“Ambitious,” I said, leaning closer and eyeing his neck. Before he had a chance to notice my focus had turned to one particularly bulging vein, my gaze dropped to the bottle of beer he held by the neck.
Stallion the label read above the graphic of a red horse head.
“Stallion,” I repeated with a satisfied nod. “My, my.” My eyebrows gave a jump, happy to see I hadn’t scared the stud off . . . yet. “How does it taste?”
“Chocolatey,” All-American said with a lopsided grin. “Yours?”
“Rummy,” I answered.
He lifted his head when he laughed, giving me an unobstructed view of all the lovely veins running along his muscular neck.
With my next smile, I made a point of showing off my sharpened back molars. “My name is Francesco, but call me Fane. And you are—?”
All-American did a double take. “Fane?” he repeated.
I nodded, smiling my Cheshire grin.
His eyes darted from side to side, then he stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Are you . . . you know?”
I set my beer down without looking. I didn’t even know where it ended up, but suddenly my hands were free and I was moving closer to Mr. All-American.
How long had it been since I drank straight from the vein? Months. Not since that holiday party in the Bronx. Way too long.
My friendly companion watched me with a mixture of unease and excitement. He stared at my mouth, perhaps imagining my lips affixed to his neck sucking his blood. I wondered if it, too, would taste chocolatey.
“Am I what?” I asked huskily.
He stared at me for a long time, a flush traveling from his neck to his face the longer it took him to say the word.
“Not human,” he finally managed, unable to ask flat out.
“You mean vampire?” I supplied, giving the poor guy a break. “Yes,” I said. “I am one of the undead.”
All-American glanced from me to his beer then back to me. “Cool. Really. Don’t worry. I’m not going to freak out on you. My friend explained things to me before we arrived. You’re the first vampire I’ve met so . . . cool.”
“Your first,” I repeated with delight.
I should have been looking for Cassie, but this unexpected diversion was too delicious to walk away from. I wondered if the boat had designated areas for blood sucking. On first glance, I hadn’t seen anyone sucking out in the open. Most of the swankier parties kept it behind closed doors.
I flashed All-American another smile. “Why don’t I grab us a couple more beers and we give ourselves a self-guided boat tour?”
His shoulders relaxed as he grinned back. “I wouldn’t mind looking around. Oh, and I’m Todd,” he said, sticking out his free hand.
I grasped it at once then let go, delighted to have met such an agreeable young man so quickly.
“I know you’ve already tried the Stallion,” I said, moving toward the ice chest, “but let’s find a couple brands you haven’t yet tasted.”
The beer reminder put Todd further at ease. He joined me at the ice chest, but before I could make a selection there came a scream from inside the cabin followed by a man in a striped polo thrashing about, running into furniture and people. Eyes bugging out from beneath a wide forehead, the man threw himself onto the deck as though in pursuit of oxygen. He fell to the floor beside us, thrashing and flopping around like a fish thrown aboard. From this close, I could see blood on his teeth.
There were screams around us as people jumped back. In the confined space they had nowhere to go, and others rushed forward to see what was happening, packing in the deck and all those around them like sardines.
Pinkish foam frothed at the corner of the man’s lips.
“Hun—” he gasped. “Hun . . . Hun!” He tried one final time before giving into the convulsions that wracked his body from head to toe.
“Is he having an epileptic fit?” a female voice asked urgently.
“Can’t be. He’s undead,” a male voice answered.
“What’s he trying to say?”
“I don’t know. Should we put something in his mouth so he doesn’t bite off his tongue?”
While everyone else speculated and stared at the thrashing figure on the floor, I lifted my head and scanned the crowd. That’s when I spotted her, the blonde beauty in the short white strapless dress. She cupped her neck with one hand and grasped a long silver sequined clutch in the other. Her hair flowed in smooth, subtle waves despite the humidity. She looked a bit like Taylor Swift glammed up and ready for the Grammys.
With an air of urgency, she squeezed her way along the edge of the crowd, shoving her way through when people didn’t budge quick enough.
It occurred to me then what the writhing vampire had been trying to say.
Hunter.
Could it possibly be? Could Glam Girl really be responsible for putting down three vamps twice her weight? And was life really so serendipitous to place her right here in St. Maarten, on The Sea Serpent, directly in our laps? Had she poisoned her victims? Was it happening right now?
There wasn’t time to stand around pondering. The blonde was getting away.
Thoughts now homed in on the fleeing hunter, I shoved my way through the crowd to the stairs. The blonde had already made it down and stepped barefoot onto the dock. So intent was she on getting away from the boat that she didn’t notice me following after her.
Once her feet hit the wood planks, she lowered the slender hand that had been holding her neck and swung it at her side as she strode toward the glittering lights of town.
I had to jog to keep pace.
Soon, the music and din of the party faded, replaced by the soft lap of waves against the approaching shoreline licking the shallow
s beneath our feet. This far from the commotion, being stealthy proved challenging. No one milled around the docks. We were alone now. Even if she noticed me, there was no reason for her to suspect I was tailing her. I could simply have been leaving the party, heading back to my lodgings.
Where would she go? To her own hotel? What then? Did I report her? Gather a group of local vamps to confront her?
I’d never encountered a vampire hunter in all my long life. Their existence had always been more of a myth—a rarity on par with vampires themselves. More than anything, curiosity propelled me forward.
The dock slanted ahead to the final climb up to the harbor’s pedestrian area. There were no boats anchored this close to shore and only dull intermittent lighting from lamps overhead. The dark waters seemed to still at the edges of the dock doing nothing to help cover my footsteps.
The blonde only had a few more feet until she began the climb up to shore, but before her foot ever hit the ramp, she whipped around, cool blue eyes piercing mine as her shoulders drew up. She pulled a small dagger from her clutch and gripped the handle tight.
“That’s close enough,” she warned.
My heart slammed against my rib cage as I came to an abrupt halt. I’d only feared death twice in my life. The first as a human in Venice when my fingers turned black. The second time had been in a hot-air balloon over Egypt. After a leaky fuel line set fire to the basket, I’d watched the pilot jump out and had quickly done the same. The 30-meter drop had done a number on my poor bones and internal organs, but that was when I’d discovered how quickly a vampire could heal. The pilot hadn’t been as lucky, nor the other passengers who’d been swept up in a gust of flaming wind before the balloon exploded.
I didn’t feel the same forsaken sense of horror I had the two times before, though my adrenaline spiked in anticipation.
When the blonde took in my visage, she did something odd. She smiled, not with malicious intent but as though we were old acquaintances.
“Francesco Donado,” she said warmly, sounding not altogether surprised. If anything, her tone held a note of intrigue. Her accent sounded American.
In all my long life, I swear nothing had ever taken me aback more than the familiarity with which she spoke my name. I hid my surprise as only an Italian vampire can, with a lazy Cheshire grin. “I see my reputation precedes me.”
“It does, indeed.” She smiled briefly then looked over my shoulder and took a step backward. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Am I on some kind of hit list?” I asked, curiosity overcoming my earlier fear.
She hesitated for a moment before answering, “No.”
“But you know who I am.” I doubted very much she’d give me her name, at least not her real one. Stuffing my thumbs in my pockets, I kept my distance while allowing my gaze to roam over her, resting on a messy wound at her neck where blood streaked and pooled along her collarbone.
She smiled again. “I am not supposed to talk to you.”
“I’m no snitch,” I said. Even if I knew who to snitch her out to.
“I have to go.” She turned again.
I lifted my arms. “Wait. What did you do to the vamp on the boat?”
“He’ll survive . . . for now,” she said, frowning.
I leaned in, afraid a step toward her would hasten her departure. “You injected him with something, I presume.”
“Trade secret.” She lowered her chin with a seductive slant.
“And the vamp on Anguilla Island, Ronald,” I pressed, “that was you, too?”
The assassin’s lips drew back. It was as though an invisible line had been drawn between us, one we peered across leery once more. All traces of playfulness drifted from her face.
“Ronald.” She spat out the name as though it were Satan’s own. “He killed several girls in Miami Beach before running off to the Caribbean. Luckily, I caught up to him,” she said with a fierce grin. “Justice was served.”
“So that’s your MO? Eye for an eye?” Seemed like a good thing to know. Killing turned my stomach. If murder was what brought about a visit from the vampire huntress, then I had nothing to fear.
“Not always,” she said with a nonchalance that put me back on edge, which is exactly where I should have remained all along.
What was I thinking flirting with a vampire hunter? A bloody vampire hunter! She knew my name—knew me by sight. Did they have flash cards or something? A database? How many of them were there? Who was their leader? They sounded way too organized not to have a leader. The phony newspaper story was a red flag if I ever saw one. How high did this thing go?
“Word of advice,” the assassin said, piercing my eyes with her own, “go back to New York.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Is that a threat?”
“More of a friendly heads up. Too many vamps have seen me. My replacements will arrive soon. Some of them aren’t as selective as I, and I’d hate for you to get caught up in the crossfires.”
“You would?” I challenged.
She nodded. A smile spread over her lips. I didn’t know why, but it made me grin back.
“You should leave the Caribbean . . . Fane.” Her smile brightened when she used my moniker, as though she’d said a naughty word and delighted in doing so.
Something stirred inside me as she spoke my name. Something akin to disappointment filled my soul as I watched her hasten up the ramp like a midnight Cinderella fleeing from her dark prince.
She’d warned me.
I had no interest in getting mixed up with vampire hunters. I owed it to Joss to keep him safe.
But first I had to warn Cassie.
Chapter 5
Back on the boat, the vampire’s twitching had subsided. He now sat on a bench and rocked slightly, hunched over, eyes out of focus. As I stared at him, I wondered what kind of body count he’d amassed. My upper lip curled involuntarily as I looked at him and envisioned stony-eyed bodies in his wake.
“Okay, party’s over, everyone,” said a toned man in skimpy white shorts as he waved his long muscular arms toward the stairs. His body had an unnatural tanned shine to it. He narrowed his eyes at me as I walked up the stairs, brushing against people walking down.
When I reached the deck he stepped in front of me, a wall of bronzed muscles directly in my path. I lifted my eyebrows in challenge.
“Party’s over,” he said to me.
“Too bad. I haven’t finished my beer,” I returned.
Before he could respond, Cassie appeared by his side and squeezed his hulk-like arm. “This is Fane. He can stay.”
“You’re Fane?” the guy asked, face relaxing. “Why didn’t you say so?” He stepped aside. As soon as I passed him, he resumed herding people off The Sea Serpent.
Cassie led me away from the stairs.
“Is that Bastian?” I asked, jutting my chin in the ripped man’s direction.
“Yeah. Did you just arrive?” Cassie asked as she craned her head all around, not really paying attention. “There’s been another vamp attack right here on Bastian’s boat.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the bench where the vampire still sat rocking back and forth.
“Is he okay?” I asked, making a half-assed attempt to mask my indifference regarding his well-being.
The blonde huntress had told me that Ronald had murdered women. I was willing to bet this vamp and the others she’d killed had done something similarly heinous.
Cassie looked at the vamp. Unlike me, she frowned with concern. “He’s still twitching, but he was convulsing earlier. It was terrible—thrashing all over the floor. He’s only just started to talk. He said a vampire hunter did this to him. Bastian told him to be quiet until he got everyone off the boat.” She glanced around. “You came at the right time. We’ll finally have our first description of the hunter.”
A chill snaked down my spine despite the balmy night sky.
I couldn’t speak so I nodded thoughtfully.
Footsteps thumped abov
e our heads as partygoers emerged from the upper deck and made their way down to our level to join the line flowing off the boat and onto the dock.
Once Bastian’s guests had abandoned ship, he sat beside the trembling vamp in the polo and leaned forward. “Now talk.”
The vamp swallowed and looked at the remaining faces standing around him: me, Cassie, and two other men in their late twenties, arms folded over chests that looked as toned beneath their T-shirts as the ship’s captain. The vamp’s gaze passed over them quickly, coming to a rest when he found me.
He sat up a little and demanded, “Who’s he?”
“Fane,” Bastian said with a lazy glance in my direction.
The vamp didn’t take his eyes off me. They were still stretched in terror. “Is he a vampire?”
“Of course he is,” Bastian snarled, gums showing as his upper lip curled. “I wouldn’t have allowed him to stay on my boat if he were human. Now tell us what happened.”
Guess Bastian wasn’t too thrilled that a vampire hunter had found her way onto his yacht.
“It was a blonde in a white dress,” the vamp said, words rushing from his mouth. “She started flirting with me and asked me to take her someplace private. I had no reason to suspect she was anything other than a human looking to get sucked off. So of course I took her into one of the empty rooms and bit her. But as soon as I swallowed her blood my body seized up and began to convulse. I’ve never felt anything like it. As soon as it started the bitch smiled.” The vamp’s fingers curled into fists as a sneer appeared over his face. “Then she pulled a dagger out of her purse. I could barely move, but I knew if I didn’t get out of there I was dead so I threw myself at the door and managed to stumble through the cabin to the deck before the convulsions overtook me completely.” The vamp looked around, wild-eyed. “Did anyone see her? The blonde in the white dress?”
