by Melissa Marr
I rinsed that, too. Venom wasn’t the sort of thing anyone wanted on their skin unless they wanted acid-burn.
“Venom,” I said. “That was venom in the needle. You could’ve died. And”—I pointed behind me—“there was a draugr here. Guy got his face chewed off.”
They were listening, seeming to at least. I wasn’t their family, though. I was a blue-haired woman with some weapons and weird eyes. The best I could do was hand them over to the police and hope they weren’t stupid enough to end up in danger again tomorrow.
New Orleans had more than Marie hiding in the shadows. Draugr were fast, strong, and difficult to kill. If not for their need to feed on the living like mindless beasts the first few decades after resurrection, I might accept them as the next evolutionary step. But I wasn’t a fan of anything—mindless or sentient—that stole blood and life.
Marie might have been an angel in life, but right now she was a killer.
In my city.
If I found the person or people who decided to release Marie—or the woman with the syringe--I’d call the police. I tried to avoid killing the living. But if I found Marie, or others like her, I wasn’t calling dispatch. When it came to venomous killers, I tended to be more of a behead first, ask later kind of woman.
Excerpt of Shades of Wicked
By
Jeaniene Frost
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AVAILABLE now!
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Chapter One
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This had better be the right whorehouse.
It didn’t look like the seedier brothels I’d recently been to. This three-story structure could pass as the meeting place for an elite social club. Despite its unexpected prettiness, if I had to wade through another flesh-fest only to turn up empty-handed again, I wouldn’t be responsible for what I did to my quarry when I finally found him.
To vent my aggravation over weeks of fruitless searching, I kicked the door open. Politeness had been wasted at the last several establishments anyway. No smart proprietor willingly gave up a well-paying client, and I’ll say one thing for the bordello-loving vampire I was after: He obviously paid well.
To my surprise, I didn’t see anyone in the elegant foyer. Brothels usually had several prostitutes lingering around the entryway to welcome new customers. I was further surprised when I didn’t hear sounds of carnal activity coming from the upper floors of the house. I pulled out my mobile and checked the GPS pin. Yes, this was the right place. What’s more, it certainly smelled like sex, once you got past the choking scents of various perfumes and colognes.
But where was everyone?
Faint vibrations in the floor made me stride toward the hallway. Ah, so the party must be downstairs. I followed the strongest scents of perfume until I found a staircase that descended two floors. It ended at a locked door that I also kicked in. No point in being dainty now.
Noise blasted out. The basement must have been soundproofed for me to miss it before. Now, I wished I couldn’t hear what was going on. A boisterous chorus assaulted my ears, repeating over and over. Thunder and Blazes, the favorite opening song of the former Barnum and Bailey circus.
And I had walked into a circus, I saw now, although one without any real animals. About a dozen naked women and men frolicked on the ground, doing woefully inadequate impressions of the creatures their full body paint represented. No work ethic, I thought when three faux lions appeared more interested in petting each other than in more realistic fights for dominance, and don’t get me started on how they ignored the two faux gazelles that walked by them.
The dozen or so prostitutes dressed in clown suits showed more dedication for their roles. They emerged from a fake car in the far corner of the room, some falling forward in rolling somersaults once they exited, some tripping each other with comedic exaggeration, and some blowing up balloons into explicit body parts that they then graphically connected.
An eruption of fireworks yanked my attention to the other side of the room. They were going off around what looked like a throne, haloing its occupant in a blaze of sparks, fire and smoke. The mini pyrotechnic display was so bright, I couldn’t make out the enthroned person’s face, but when he called out, “Act Eight will now begin!” I heard a distinct English accent.
Then the smoke cleared enough to show a tall man wearing a blue circus-ringleader jacket. The smoke still concealed him from the waist down, but I didn’t need to see more to know I’d finally found my target. The vampire who’d blazed a trail through a dozen whorehouses in only two weeks had a face as beautiful as an angel’s, not to mention that his fire-and-umber hair was as distinctive as his looks. When he got off the throne, revealing he wore nothing beneath the ringleader jacket, I realized those weren’t Ian’s only notable attributes.
For a moment, I stared. What vampire in his right mind would pierce himself with silver there?
I was the only one shocked by the silver piercing through the tip of Ian’s cock. Everyone else stopped what they were doing and rushed toward him. Even the glitter-covered acrobats leapt from their swinging perches near the ceiling, gracefully landing near the pile of limbs that now formed around the red-headed vampire.
It wasn’t enough that I had to be burdened with a vampire so mentally deficient that he’d willingly given himself a case of perpetual cock burn. He also had to be depraved enough to indulge in carnival-themed orgies. I wasn’t about to find out what the rest of Act Eight entailed. I made my way to the growing flesh pile and began flinging people aside, taking care not to throw them too hard. Their heartbeats meant they were human, so they couldn’t heal the way my kind could.
“What’s this?” Ian asked in an annoyed manner when I reached the bottom of the bodies. Then he let out an appreciative noise when I yanked him up with none of the care I’d shown the other people.
“Why, hallo, my strong blonde sweeting.” Now he didn’t sound annoyed at all. “Are you the surprise I was promised?”
Why not let him believe that? “Sure,” I said. “Surprise.” And I grabbed him by the cock. I had one more thing to verify before I went any further.
Ian chuckled. “That’s the spirit, poppet.”
I dropped to my knees. I wasn’t about to do what he thought. Still, this act allowed me to zero in on my goal with the least amount of resistance from him. Once I got a good look at the smoke-colored brands near the base of Ian’s groin, I released him. Only one demon branded people with these particular markings, and it was the same demon I’d been after for thousands of years.
“Ian,” I said as I straightened. “Say good-bye. We’re leaving.”
He laughed outright. “I don’t think so. You might be lovely, but two’s lonely, while a dozen is a party.”
I gave a disparaging look around. “No great loss. The clowns were fine, but none of your faux animals fought each other or even attempted to jump through the fire rings.”
At that, he gave the animal-painted prostitutes an accusing look. “You didn’t, did you?” Then, his eyes suddenly narrowed as he looked back at me. “Wait a moment. I know you.”
We’d only officially met once before, so I hadn’t thought he’d remember me. Someone with his tendencies had to have crossed paths with vast numbers of blonde women.
“Veritas, Law Guardian for the vampire council,” I confirmed. Then my hands landed on his shoulders. “And as I said, you are coming with me.”
His eyes changed from their natural vivid turquoise into glowing, vampiric emerald. “Leave it to a Law Guardian to try and ruin a perfectly good orgy. Sorry, luv, I’m not going anywhere. Now, take your hands from me before I remove them.”
He couldn’t mean that. Merely striking a Law Guardian was enough to garner a death sentence, if the council was in a testy mood. Only the vampire council itself was above us in undead society. That’s why I ignored his threat and tightened my grip.
“There’s no need for empty threats—”
The next thing I knew, I was thrown seve
ral meters away. I blinked, more startled by his quickness than by his reckless disregard for the punishment his actions merited.
“No need?” he repeated, contempt edging his tone now. “I remember the last time I saw you. I’d say your complicity in the murder of my friend’s daughter more than qualifies as a need.”
She isn’t dead.
The words rang in my mind, a comfort I drew on whenever I thought back on that awful day. But if Ian didn’t know that the child’s supposed execution had been nothing more than a clever ruse . . .
“That was the council’s decision, not mine,” I said, my voice roughening from the memory. I’d nearly lost my position as Law Guardian arguing against the girl’s execution, but fear and bigotry had made the council unmovable. At least they hadn’t succeeded in taking her life as they’d intended to.
Ian snorted. “Sleep better telling yourself that, do you? You make my sins look forgivable, and that takes some doing.”
“Enough.” How dare he judge me? “Now, come.”
His brows rose, as if he couldn’t believe I’d spoken to him the same way some people called their dogs. Well, if he insisted on acting like a beast, I’d treat him like one.
“All of you, leave,” Ian said to the prostitutes, who’d been watching us with more boredom than interest. They’d probably thought our exchange was more role-playing. “My compliments for the day’s entertainment, but now it’s over. Go,” he stressed when some of them hung back instead of joining the ones that began to file out the door.
I bit back a disbelieving laugh. “Are you getting them out of the way because you’re intending to fight me?”
Ian flashed a smile that increased the intensity of his unusual beauty. “You must not have done your research if you thought I’d come willingly.”
The silver from his piercing must have gotten into his bloodstream and damaged his brain. That was the only explanation. “I’m more than four thousand years older than you.”
“Really?” he said with mock surprise. “Here I was thinking you didn’t look a day over twenty, little Guardian.”
I’d been older than that when I was changed into a vampire, but his guess was a common mistake. People put far too much emphasis on appearances. “Is ‘little guardian’ supposed to be insulting? If so, do better.”
“Not being insulting,” he replied in an easygoing tone. “But if you’re half my weight, I’d be surprised.”
Yes, I currently looked more delicate than formidable. Even if that were true, it wouldn’t help him. With age came strength, and I had thousands of years on him. “Stand down, Ian, and I won’t punish you for attacking me.”
“Why don’t you try begging me to stand down?” he suggested. “Make your plea interesting enough, and I might consider it.”
I was done negotiating. I plowed into Ian hard enough to shatter the bones in his upper body. To my surprise, he did nothing to block the blow. Instead, he flung me upward with a strength he should never have had. I hit the ceiling with such force, I went all the way through. For a stunned moment, I stared at him through the hole my body made in the floor.
“Stop now and perhaps you’re the one who won’t get punished,” he said in a pleasant tone.
I suppressed the urge to immediately charge him again. Never underestimate an opponent twice, if you’re lucky enough to survive the first time. My vampire sire, Tenoch, had taught me that. Following Tenoch’s advice had saved my life many times, so I pushed back my urge to retaliate.
Ian was wrong—I had done my research on him. It hadn’t revealed anything unusual except for a voracious sexual appetite, an open disdain for rules, and a penchant for collecting the rare and expensive. My previous assault should have left him on the ground, not whistling along to that awful circus tune while looking more bored than concerned.
Maybe his unusual strength came from the demon brands? They did more than act as a leash between Ian and the demon who’d seared them onto him. Over time, those brands would also endow Ian with some of that demon’s strength and power. Ian had only been branded for a few weeks. Not nearly long enough for him to manifest parts of the demon’s strength or abilities.
I’d find out his secret later. Right now, I needed to take him down, and thankfully, I had some surprises for him, too.
I gave Ian a level look. “My turn.”
His smile grew into a grin. “Come and get me, little Guardian.”
About the Authors
Kelley Armstrong believes experience is the best teacher, though she’s been told this shouldn’t apply to writing her murder scenes. To craft her books, she has studied aikido, archery and fencing. She sucks at all of them. She has also crawled through very shallow cave systems and climbed half a mountain before chickening out. She is however an expert coffee drinker and a true connoisseur of chocolate-chip cookies.
Visit her online:
www.KelleyArmstrong.com
[email protected]
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Jeaniene Frost is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of paranormal romance and urban fantasy. Her works include the Night Huntress series, the Night Prince series, the Broken Destiny series, and the new Night Rebel series. Jeaniene’s novels have also appeared on the Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal, ABA Indiebound, and international bestseller lists. Foreign rights for Jeaniene’s novels have sold to twenty different countries. Jeaniene lives in Florida with her husband Matthew, who long ago accepted that she rarely cooks and always sleeps in on the weekends. In addition to being a writer, Jeaniene also enjoys reading, writing, poetry, watching movies, exploring old cemeteries, spelunking, and traveling – by car. Airplanes, children, and cook books frighten her.
Visit her online:
https://www.jeanienefrost.com
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Melissa Marr is a former university literature instructor who writes fiction for adults, teens, and children. Her books have been translated into twenty-eight languages and have been bestsellers internationally (Germany, France, Sweden, Australia, et. al.) as well as domestically. She is best known for the Wicked Lovely series for teens, Graveminder for adults, and Bunny Roo, I Love You. In her free time, she practices medieval swordfighting, kayaks, hikes, and raises kids and chickens in the Arizona desert.
Visit her online:
http://www.melissamarrbooks.com
Also By Kelley Armstrong
Rockton thriller series
City of the Lost
A Darkness Absolute
This Fallen Prey
Watcher in the Woods
Alone in the Wild
A Stranger in Town
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A Stitch in Time time-travel gothic
A Stitch in Time
A Twist of Fate
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Cursed Luck contemporary fantasy
Cursed Luck
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Standalone Thrillers
Wherever She Goes
Every Step She Takes
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Past Series
Cainsville paranormal mystery series
Otherworld urban fantasy series
Nadia Stafford mystery trilogy
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Young Adult
Missing
The Masked Truth
Darkest Powers paranormal trilogy
Darkness Rising paranormal trilogy
Age of Legends fantasy trilogy
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Middle-Grade
A Royal Guide to Monster Slaying fantasy series
The Blackwell Pages trilogy (with Melissa Marr)
Also By Melissa Marr
Signed Copies:
To order signed copies of my books (with free ebook included in some cases), go to MelissaMarrBooks.com
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Adult Thriller
Pretty Broken Things (2020; psychological thriller)
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Adult Fantasy
Graveminder (HarperCollins, 2011)
The Arrivals (HarperCollins, 2012)
Cold Iron Heart (2020; Wicked Lovely adult)
The Wicked & The Dead (2020; Urban Fantasy)
The Kiss & The Killer (2021; Urban Fantasy)
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Young Adult
Wicked Lovely series (HarperCollins, 2007-2012)
Made For You (HarperCollins,, 2013)
Seven Black Diamonds (HarperCollins, 2015)
One Blood Ruby (HarperCollins, 2016)
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Middle Grade
The Hidden Knife (Penguin, 2021)
Loki’s Wolves (with Kelley Armstrong, 2012)
Odin’s Ravens (with Kelley Armstrong 2013)
Thor’s Serpents (with Kelley Armstrong, 2014)
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Collections:
Tales of Folk & Fey (2019)
Dark Court Faery Tales (2019)
This Fond Madness (2017)
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Co-Edited with Kelley Armstrong (with HarperTeen)
Enthralled
Shards & Ashes
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Co-Edited with Tim Pratt (with Little, Brown)
Rags & Bones
Also By Jeaniene Frost
Author’s Note: The Night Rebel, Night Huntress, Night Prince and Night Huntress World series all contain stories set in the same paranormal universe. The Broken Destiny series is set in a different paranormal universe that’s unrelated to those series. Thanks and happy reading!
