by Vanessa Skye
He had never agreed with much that Kouncil said, but he did agree with that.
While humans still outnumbered vampires by at least one hundred thousand to one, there was no doubt that the vampires’ superior strength and other gifts would eventually ensure a victory.
But at what cost?
The only reason vampires had not wiped humans from the face of the scarred earth hundreds of years ago was because they were the vampire’s only food source. The world was one big cattle station and vampires were the rustlers—the humans just didn’t know it.
Striker was torn from his musings by the woman’s sudden halt.
Deathly still, she cocked her head to the side, as if listening for something.
Hovering one hundred feet above her, Striker also stilled, momentarily concerned that she knew he was following her. But eventually he heard it, too.
Screams. Human, female screams. The assassin moved so quickly he almost lost her. He frowned at her sudden speed. Could his guess about her young age be
incorrect? He caught up to her in a human train station, which was deserted apart
from a lone young woman engaged in a struggle with a larger, tattooed man. Both appeared to be human.
The thug wrestled her to the ground in a corner of the quiet platform and appeared intent on ripping her clothes off.
The woman screamed again as she kicked out, trying to throw him off her.
The thug balled his meaty fist and punched her on the side of her head
then covered her mouth and nose with his large hand. Her struggles weakened as she was deprived of oxygen. Striker wondered why the assassin was interested in the rape. It was a
human problem and certainly nothing to do with her, or vampires in general. Surely she would have to move on soon, it was nearly dawn.
But the female vampire didn’t move on. On the contrary, emerging from her hiding place, she rushed the man, who had subdued his victim and was now undoing the fly of his dirty jeans. She grabbed him by the collar and waistband and hurled him off the human woman.
He came to rest ten feet away from his intended victim, his breath rushing out of his lungs as he hit the ground hard. He recovered quickly, pulling himself up off the ground, and then eyeing his attacker with naked appreciation. “You want to be next?” he asked with a sneer. “No problem, baby.”
The assassin shook her head and muttered something that sounded like “never again,” although Striker couldn’t be sure. She advanced on the man, easily dodging the blow from his massive fist and countering with a punch of her own that connected to the man’s jaw with a resounding crack.
Striker watched in fascination, wondering why she didn’t simply end it with her sword, instead of fighting like she was in a human boxing match.
It would have been so easy, quick, over and done.
“Ah . . . this kill you do relish,” he muttered as he watched her land blow after blow with the rapist’s head, body, and face until he was little more than a bloody, pulpy mess.
He fell to his knees, and the assassin lashed out with a kick, snapping his neck.
She watched as he slumped then picked him up by the collar and sunk her teeth into his neck, taking a few long pulls from his artery before pushing the body away roughly, as if it disgusted her.
Striker observed her with unabashed interest as she staggered away and, clutching her stomach, dry-heaved. But she kept the blood down. He was pleased to see that once she got control of herself, she used her saliva to heal the wounds on the man’s neck so the bite would not be discovered. His other wounds she left unhealed.
She is no threat to us.
She checked on the almost-rape victim and, satisfied she was alive, carried her carefully to a nearby bench and placed her gently down, arranging her clothing so her body was covered.
Striker assumed she meant to partake of this human’s blood also, but she
did not, reaching out instead with a shaking hand and stroking the woman’s hair gently.
“Most curious. You certainly didn’t drink enough from the man.” Striker felt his own strength waning at the approaching dawn and was pleased to see the female vampire moving away from the train station swiftly.
He cursed as she ducked into a network of sewer tunnels that had several possible exits. If he didn’t want to lose her, he would have to follow on foot. He landed silently on the concreted storm drain and ran into the tunnel after her, noting that he would have to make it quick—dawn was too close.
He followed the delicious scent of the strange woman through the tunnels as it got stronger.
She’s close.
An abrupt stop a fraction of an inch from the point of the sword aimed steadily at his throat made him ruefully realize exactly how close she was.
