Vulture’s Kiss

by E. M. Whittaker

  Weaklings. How pathetic.

  His hands solidified.

  Then he ripped out a thrall’s heart.

  One of them reached for their weapon. Several others crawled to where their weapons lay—sprawled across the concrete. Before they reached them, Darius stopped them.

  For once, Louis didn’t admonish him. The youngster enjoyed the hunt.

  He smirked. Good.

  Maybe he’d save their mate.

  By the time he stopped, nine blood-soaked hearts rested on the ground. The werewolf—no, Joe’s—voice called across the courtyard. He yelled something, but Darius couldn’t understand him. Mistborn creatures didn’t have ears. These moronic muscle heads knew nothing about true shapeshifters.

  The vampire contained a sigh while he transformed into Louis’s dhampir form again. Then he brought his half-human counterpart back to the surface. He’d handle these buffoons.

  He dealt with enough idiocy for one evening.

  “Damn.” Joe pointed to Louis’s bloodstained hands. “What the fuck?”

  “My other half.” Louis wiped his hands on the grass. “He detests my ex-wife more than you and werewolves are his greatest enemy.”

  “How many did he kill?” Jemina came up beside them, then stopped once she spotted the blood. “Oh, shit. Hang on. I have rag in my purse.”

  “Nine.” The blood pounded against his jugular vein. “I must admit, Darius had an effective method of surprise. Something you lack, Miss. Rodriguez. Please use caution when we’re inside the mansion. Marianne won’t give you a second chance to escape.”

  “Humph.” The Latina curled her upper lip. “Then she needs more challenging thralls. I took out eleven.”

  Joe pouted. “Damn, woman. I only got eight.”

  She clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I tell you practice. You got sloppy.”

  “You stole my kills.”

  Louis rubbed his temple. “Whatever. We need to get inside. Preferably without noise disturbances. There’s a tunnel somewhere around here.”

  A headless guard hit the wall.

  Then someone whistled from the side of the mansion.

  “Hey, Louie.” Hector waved and wiped off his claws on his faded jeans. “Here’s the tunnel, man. This reminds me of old times. Remember the night you left Marianne? That was a nightmare. We barely escaped with our lives once she chased us.”

  Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. That might happen again with Jemina’s violent streak.

  Everyone around him lost their mind.

  “I remember.” He hurried over to his semi-sane companion. “Is the key still hidden underneath the rug?”

  The lion shifter wiggled it between his fingers. “Of course. I don’t think Marianne remembers this secret.”

  “It’s not secret entrance with key under rug.” Jemina’s stilettos clomped against the concrete. “You think she try harder. Now, does Evelyn know where this tunnel is?”

  “I told her about the doorway.” Louis snatched the key. “But the tunnel … well, it’s complicated. Depending on which way she takes, she could end up inside the main courtyard. It’s in the middle of the mansion.”

  Jemina punched her palm again. “Assume worst case scenario. Where would she escape?”

  He unlocked the door. “The main courtyard.”

  “Then let’s go.” She pointed a finger at Joe. “You stay here. Call the pack. Surround the perimeter. They’ll send out more guards. Keep them busy while we get Evelyn.”

  “Jemina … not to rain on your parade, darlin’….” Joe put a hand on his chin. “But what if Evelyn’s already a vampire? Can you fight her?”

  Her eyes turned into steely slits. “I’ll find out.”

  Her voice sent cold chills down his spine.

  Mother Earth led him down a perilous road. Her cousin—no matter how strong she was—couldn’t fend off a fledging vampire by herself. Evie’s blood—no, their very bond—protected her from becoming a mindless thrall. However, that only lasted if she dated him. Otherwise, anyone could claim her.

  All Simon needed to do was bite her.

  He quickened his step and glided along the brick floor. Darius loaned him his power, but he stayed silent.

  Together, they’d find their mate.

  Hopefully, no one drank the rest of her succulent blood first.

  16

  The dank tunnel she escaped into aggravated Evelyn.

  For one, shuffling through the tunnel like a snail added to her irritation. Despite the shower and her delicious meal, her energy dwindled the longer she hiked through the tunnel. After the third turn, she stopped to catch her breath.

  She’d never escape like this.

  The second reason her aggravation flared came from the wet tunnel floor. Evelyn lost her flats when the tunnel flooded. At first, she assumed it came from the irrigation slots integrated into the brick wall.

  No such luck.

  A cascade of water attacked her.

  The wave sent Evelyn crashing into a wall. Luckily, she shielded herself. Once it subsided, she continued. If she survived through the night, she’d hang her boyfriend.

  How could he marry someone so wretched?

  No wonder Hector detested Her Royal Bitchiness. If Louis had been born a human, she would have made him one of her vampiric thralls. She’d have sucked his bank account dry and robbed him of his hard-earned fortune, his ideas, and his new business investments. And poor Morgan. He had to wait on the Vampiric Witch of the West. How many times did he hold his tongue when she made her ridiculous demands?

  Judging by Hector’s harsh criticism, many.

  Bitch.

  Her cold, bare feet slapped against the floor. Her heel stomped against it every time Marianne lingered in her thoughts. Once she found a weapon, she’d kill the crazy aristocrat herself. She might even laugh at her demise.

  It depended on Evelyn’s mood.

  She rounded another corner. Glorious twilight greeted her at the end of the tunnel. Evelyn wiped her wet bangs away from her face and stepped into the moonlight.

  A cool breeze washed over her.

  Goosebumps trailed up her arms.

  Who took care of this beautiful courtyard? Marianne’s dark personality wouldn’t allow these plants to thrive in this place. Lilies, hibiscus, and plumerias covered the perimeter of the walkway. Roses climbed the trellises of the two person gazebo in the middle of the courtyard.

  Evelyn smelled one of lilies shaped like a pineapple. Divine.

  Whoever took care of the flowers had experience with botany.

  “So, you’ve still got some spunk to you.”

  Evelyn turned around, then grabbed a broken piece of wood.

  Shit. Simon followed her.

  “Your mother is a piece of work.” Her voice rumbled as she spoke. “And so are you. I can tell she raised you. You’ve nailed her lessons in cruelty.”

  “Au contraire.” The relaxed lord of the mansion took a step toward her. “Mother wants to make you her dinner. I’d prefer you as my bride. A feisty bride, but your quirks make life worthwhile, my dear.”

  Evelyn brandished her weapon. “Go to hell.”

  “Say yes and I’ll let you return home.” He snapped his fingers and a portal opened next to him. “You can live inside your pitiful two-bedroom apartment until the wedding. You can keep Vixens if you like. It’s more money we’ll bank into the savings account anyway. You’ll just have to hire more girls because Mother ate most of your spirited coworkers.”

  Her heartbeat hammered in her chest. “I know what happens once you eat me.”

  “I can stop the process.”

  “Bullshit.” Evelyn reached for another weapon—a pipe laying by the gazebo. “I’d believe Louis and Darius over your sorry pale ass. He’s more of a gentleman than you.”

  “Pity.” He closed the portal. “I wish you’d reconsider. You’re in no position to fight me.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  “I’d
reconsider my offer before my servants drag you to our wedding altar by force.”

  Her knees buckled, but she locked them in place.

  The hell if she’d become Simon’s undead bride.

  “Look at you.” He approached her and cupped her face. “You’re too weak to fight. Mother stole quite a few pints of blood from you. Any minute, you’ll drop to your knees. Then you’ll cry. You’ll snivel and ask why you were chosen for this cruel fate.”

  Snivel her ass.

  Evelyn jammed the piece of wood into Simon’s chest.

  She shoved him back and the adrenaline rush kicked in. Somehow, she stayed upright despite shivering from her efforts. However, her attack didn’t hurt him. His wound regenerated around the piece of wood.

  Damn it.

  Marianne stole her superhuman strength from her.

  “Well, I should have expected that.” Simon pulled the piece of wood from his chest. “You never accepted my earlier proposals.”

  “I’m human.” She gripped the pipe until her hands hurt. “I’ll always be human. What is your fixation with me?”

  He licked his lips. “Your blood. It’s divine, dear.”

  Angry tears filled her eyes. “No. It’s not.”

  “Yes, it is.” Simon patted her cheek. “Your boyfriend knows its full value. Why do you think he’s hung around—”

  Simon’s words ended on a gurgled cry. Then he dived head first into the pavement. Before he got up, someone stepped on him and held him in place.

  “Because Louis doesn’t care about her blood, asshole.” Hector Irving crushed his elbow against the back of Simon’s head. “Now, sleep for a while. Maybe someone will bless you with common sense when you wake up.”

  The vampire groaned, then went unconscious.

  Evelyn held the pipe close to her chest. “Hecty?”

  “Hi, cutie.” He smirked at her, then pointed at the pipe. “What happened to your ‘no weapon’ rule?”

  “Change of plans.” Evelyn swallowed down her anxiety. “I’m a normal human right now.”

  “Yeah. No wonder your aim sucked.” He took her hand. “You’re not the only one creeped out about this divine blood business. I wish I was this popular.”

  She shook her head. “Not you, too.”

  “Oh, please. Here.” Hector pulled the pipe out of her hand and replaced it with her parasol. “You left this outside of Vixens.”

  Evelyn fingered the handle. “How is it? Vixens, I mean.”

  “Well, it’s like Simon said.” Hector’s voice turned painful as he spoke. “Most of your demanding coworkers got turned into vampire food. Louis and your cousin can run those details by you. Speaking of her, she’s here with her boyfriend. Those sickos love a good fight. Even Darius competed with their tally count.”

  Despite her bleak situation, Evelyn relaxed.

  She’d escape after all.

  “Come on.” Hector patted her shoulder. “We got separated at one of the tunnels. I think Louis plans on confronting Marianne alone. We’ll take down Simon once you’ve recovered.”

  She unsheathed her blade. “We could do it now.”

  “We could.” He pointed to Simon’s body. “But I get the feeling he’ll disappear. Vampires have a hell of a pain tolerance. Besides, he’s a cheesy villain. The bad guys always disappear before the final showdown.”

  Evelyn thrust the blade downward toward Simon’s back.

  The crafty devil disappeared.

  Her blade reverberated off the concrete.

  “Well, you tried.” Hector dragged her toward another exit. “Listen, Evelyn. There were two vampires chasing me when I rescued you. I think they worked for you. Be careful and follow me. Don’t let them blindside you.”

  Great. It wasn’t bad enough that Theresa and Erica died once already.

  She’d become their gatekeeper into the afterlife.

  For once, she wished for a shifter’s nose. Without her strength, Hector had to defend her from Simon’s servants.

  She clutched the parasol and followed him.

  After tonight, she’d never be this helpless again.

  * * *

  In the end, Evelyn dubbed Hector their navigator.

  She stayed behind him with one hand resting on her hilt. She knew better than to let her guard down inside this creepy mansion. Her home gave off a Nightmare on Elm Street vibe with its dreary atmosphere and ghoulish guards lurking around every corner. At one point, she expected Jason to pop out from the stairway. Cursed witches were a close second.

  If that happened, she’d snap.

  Evelyn attributed her daydreams to exhaustion.

  Her strength dwindled the longer they hid behind corners and stairwells. She grabbed onto Hector’s arm when they ducked into another room. Even with his strong hand holding her wrist, she still lost her balance. The blade dropped from her nerveless fingers.

  After that, he let her take a ten-minute break.

  Ten minutes turned into a forty-five minute nap.

  She didn’t realize she fell asleep until Hector shook her shoulder.

  “Hey.” His gentle voice—a rarity around her—woke her from her dreamless sleep. “We’ve got to go. I’ve let you sleep for almost an hour. I thought about carrying you, but you’re not the damsel in distress type. Plus, you’re heavy when you’re limp. So, come on. Move it.”

  Evelyn yawned. Her mind took forever to register his words.

  God, she needed more sleep.

  “You can sleep when you get home.” He helped her to her feet. “Well, when you return to Louie’s place. He’s not gonna let you return to your apartment after this mess.”

  She leaned against him. “Gimme another fifteen minutes.”

  “No.” Hector shook her shoulders. “We can’t afford it. They’ll find us sooner or later.”

  Something crashed into the door.

  Evelyn jerked herself awake.

  God cursed her for having an undead boyfriend.

  Her movements were clumsy, but she unsheathed her blade and followed Hector again. After this, she’d visit a church—Father Payton’s parish. He’d bless her blade with holy righteous for the right price. Of course, that came with a dozen Hail Mary’s and confessing to her glorious sins, but she wouldn’t become the newest member of the undead population.

  However, she wouldn’t repent for her sins.

  Still, God wouldn’t abandon her. Neither would Father Payton. He’d use his holy magic, kiss her blade with light, and send her on her way. Then she’d be a real vampire slayer. No one would stand in her way. Well, except Louis and his mafia entourage, but they meant well.

  Whatever. She had a vampire to kill.

  Evelyn shoved Hector aside, keeping her blade pointed downward.

  Every step down the corridor became nightmarish. Marianne’s private section turned into the set of Nightmare on Elm Street. Blood coated the floor. The hallway collapsed toward her private chambers. Dead bodies lay skewed near the entrances in various stages of decomposition.

  Someone giggled in the hallway.

  “Be careful.” Hector pulled her back. “There’s an unholy stench around here.”

  She put a hand on his shoulder. “Vampires have a certain smell?”

  A pretentious growl escaped him. “Course they do, girl. Think of week old meat. That sickeningly sweet stench ruins everything.”

  Evelyn swallowed down bile.

  There weren’t eating T-Bone steak for the next week.

  “Louie’s close.” He held his arm out, keeping her behind him. “Jem’s with him. She’s safe, I think. Tell her to stop buying cheap Bath and Body Works perfume whenever you get a chance. It’s hideous. Also, that shit stings my nose.”

  Evelyn gave a nervous chuckle. “Yeah. Okay.”

  “Good. Be prepared to cut Simon’s bloody head off.”

  Someone giggled behind them. “Ooo. Fresh blood for the mistress. She’ll be most pleased.”

  Evelyn turned, then pivoted.
>
  Young Theresa licked her lips.

  Jesus. Simon and Marianne didn’t discriminate in drinking their victims. They didn’t think about quality. Just quantity. They picked any unfortunate soul who couldn’t fight them.

  Poor Theresa. What a way to die.

  She wasn’t much of a looker, either.

  Theresa had the typical brown hair, blue eyed profile of an American Caucasian. The petite woman resembled a bean pole at a hundred and twenty-three pounds. Still, she had quite a revolving door of rich customers. Men loved skinny bitches with big knockers. If she had lived, she could have continued enticing her dim-witted victims with her voluptuous breasts.

  Maybe she still could. Vampires charmed their victims.

  Evelyn bit her lip and shook her head. No. This corpse resembled her old friend, but her once perfect tan complexion turned pallid. She’d never become human again.

  She lunged at Theresa.

  Evelyn’s hands tightened around the blade, but she missed the woman’s neck. God gave her one hell of a punishment today.

  She steadied herself, took a deep breath, and aimed. She had to free Theresa from her sacrilegious prison.

  Evelyn’s blade remained straight when she attacked her again.

  The blade pierced Theresa’s heart.

  Theresa’s scream turned into a gurgle. Her hand raised in the air. Halfway through her action, her body disintegrated into ashes.

  Damn. So anti-climactic.

  Her family would never gain closure now.

  “Evelyn!” Jemina’s thick accent—along with the clomp of her stilettos—reverberated through the corridor. “Run! They come after you!”

  The hell if she’d run. They had allies now.

  These vampires would die tonight.

  “Bring them down here.” She gripped the tanto until her fingers hurt. “I’ll end their miserable lives with my blade.”

  Hector nudged her shoulder. “Evelyn, she’s right. Haul ass upstairs.”

  Screw him. Hector didn’t care about losing coworkers. Everyone was expendable to the womanizing kingpin. He made his millions while the poor suffered in silence. As much as she hated admitting it, he sided with the wealthy elite in this instance.

  Evelyn couldn’t run yet.