Knight of the Hunted

by Elizabeth Dunlap

  “There’s a difference between killing to feed and killing just to kill,” I said quietly.

  Olivier didn’t feel as badly as I did about that part of our past. “We did what we had to. To protect the masses, and to survive. Don’t fault us for that.”

  “That’s just it,” he said, looking down. “I’m not sure I do. I guess that’s what bothers me.” He tossed his orange peel into the trash bin and left the room.

  Olivier watched him go then glanced back at me. “What was all that about? He’s never been interested in us before.” I shrugged. I knew he wanted to leave as soon as his contract was up, and in the past decade he’d never asked me about my life before him beyond the occasional crack at our decor. There’s a first time for everything.

  Just then, a bloodcurdling scream came from the basement. Several of the turned were now wailing at the top of their lungs, and it was only going to get worse. I couldn’t handle this today. I needed to get out.

  I went back upstairs and grabbed my purse, then trekked down to the turned dormitory, past the screaming coffins (not that I wanted to go that way, but it’s the only route), and into the underground garage. I had the status to hire a driver and be driven wherever I wanted to go, but I preferred to drive myself. I had no idea what kind of car I drove. It worked, that’s all that mattered to me.

  Our large castle was a few minutes outside of the nearest town, so it didn’t take me long to get there. I parked in front of one of the bookstores I frequented and went inside. The smell of books hit me and I started to relax. Getting lost in the shelves would calm me down enough to face more screaming. Just as I’d found a section to peruse, I felt a breeze and smelled lilac.

  Balthazar.

  I turned to see my oldest friend, the only Incubus I knew. He was wearing a handsome dark blue suit, and his lengthy black hair hung in slight waves. He leaned on his cane and gave me the grin I’d seen from birth. The grin that made human women melt into puddles and beg to be seduced by him.

  “Hello, Balthy,” I said with a smile. “You can stop giving me the Incubus smolder. I’m not a human.”

  “That's because I'm not really trying. And remember what I said I’d do if you called me Balthy again….” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  My smile fell and I gave him a stern glare. “Don’t make me slap you.” He busted out in a cute chuckle that lit up his entire face, so I giggled with him. You can’t stay mad at a man who laughs like that.

  Balthazar had appeared for the first time when I was a young child. He said he was a friend of my mother’s, a woman I had never known, and he was going to watch over me. His presence in my life was unheard of. The Bicus, Incubi and Succubi, never had anything to do with vampires and Lycans beyond creating us, which was now banned for an unknown reason. Everyone knew about Balthazar, but it was bizarre to the other Born that he liked to visit me. He’d always been around, popping in every so often, and he usually seemed genuinely interested in me and what I was doing. Though, sometimes he would get distracted by a human female, and then it was like I didn’t exist.

  Like right then, for instance.

  He’d been smiling at me, studying my face, when he glanced behind me and suddenly saw prey. I could see the world melt away around him, and all that mattered was the human female he’d spotted. I turned to look at her. She was a little mousy thing, clearly quite pretty under her oversized glasses, but she had no confidence and dressed badly. Her golden hair was in a tight bun, the kind men fantasized about pulling the pins out of to see how soft it was. And her lips were so soft and full, you could only guess what kind of sounds would come out of them.

  She was an Incubus’s wet dream. She was any man’s wet dream. Hell, even I was into her. Balthazar’s fingernails started to grow into long claws, the Bicus equivalent of Vampire fangs. His face looked almost erotic as they grew and grew.

  I punched his arm.

  He yelped, and his fingernails retracted as he reached up to rub where I’d hit him. I held my fist out, ready to smack his arm again, but the girl picked up a romance novel with a rather inappropriate cover and left. He sighed and looked back at me.

  “Thanks for that. I was two seconds away from breaking the rules and absconding with her.”

  “Why is creating more children forbidden now? You guys have been doing that for thousands of years, and then a few hundred years ago, suddenly, no more changing, no more impregnation.”

  He shrugged, but I knew he knew, he just wasn’t going to tell me. Not that I hadn’t been asking for four hundred years. I’m very persistent. “Lisbeth, my sweet. What shall we do today? I’m up for…anything.” He fluttered his eyelashes at me.

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Do I have to hit you again?”

  He clicked his tongue and poked me with his cane. “Come. I require sustenance in the form of powdered doughnuts.”

  I picked up a few books I thought looked interesting, I paid for them and we left the store. I wasn’t sure if Balthazar even needed food, but he usually ate with me whenever he came to visit. Maybe it was a substitute for his forbidden activities. The human women that passed us felt his presence like a beacon, each one doing a double take or stopping in their tracks to stare. He had an aura, almost like a scent, that he couldn’t turn off. I was unaffected since I’m not human, though I was sure he could turn his powers on me if he wanted to and they would work just as well.

  Every woman might’ve been gaping at him, but he continued walking beside me as if he didn’t notice, which he probably didn’t. I kept getting glares from all the women he was affecting, so I pulled a book out of my bag and pretended to be absorbed in it. It had random history facts and a few stupid jokes.

  “Hey, did you know that people used to think moles were places the Devil sucked your blood from?” I, of course, knew that. I was just trying to break the tension.

  Balthazar looked over at me in confusion. “That’s just ludicrous. It’s dreadfully dull how completely ridiculous humans are sometimes. What in God’s name are you reading?” I showed him, and he grabbed the book from me. He started to chuckle as he flipped through the pages. “Medieval humans were very amusing. But so prudish. That was annoying.” I rolled my eyes.

  We arrived at the tea café and walked inside. I took in the beautiful British design the café had as we waited to be seated. The air smelled like strawberry jam and cream with a hint of mint tea leaves. It was the main reason I liked the place. We were led to a table and Balthazar sat down across from me, still reading. The waiter walked up, a handsome male, who obviously preferred the company of men, judging by the once over he was giving Balthazar. Balthazar was holding the book very close to his face, so I couldn’t tell if he noticed the waiter checking him out or not. I ordered doughnuts with raspberry tea and the waiter left.

  Balthazar peeked out from the paperback. “Is he gone?” I nodded, so he exhaled and set the book down. “I don’t have a problem with an attractive man, I just can’t impregnate one, so what’s the point.” I stifled a laugh in my hand because he said it so matter of fact-ly. Balthazar took my other hand when he noticed the waiter coming back with our tea. He left again, taking the hint with a slight pout.

  I took my hand back and poured us tea from the flowery china teapot. “Just be glad he’s not a woman. Do you seriously not notice what happens when you’re around humans?”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Of course I notice. You don’t know how many times I’ve wished I could turn my damn aura off. But no. They’re my prey. As if I NEED an aura to catch one.” Balthazar sipped his tea after I’d finished adding sugar and milk to it. “The turning was today,” he stated, carefully watching my face.

  My back automatically stiffened, but I tried to be cavalier about it. “You’d think I’d be used to it by now,” I said disarmingly. But the screams. Oh, those terrible screams.

  “Yes. They are quite horrid,” Balthazar remarked quietly, and I realized I’d spoken out loud. “But they will be over soon. And t
hen you’ll be too busy to see me.”

  We playfully argued over that for a few minutes, and then we chatted about nothing and everything for hours, sipping fruit flavored tea and eating powdery desserts. Being with Balthazar was nice. He grounded me in a way my other friends couldn’t. He never reproached me, no matter what I discussed with him, and he never treated me like I was dense when I asked a simple question.

  The only thing I was never allowed to ask him about was my mother and grandmother.

  I knew he knew them, only because one time during the French Revolution he was drunk on whatever can actually get an Incubus drunk, and he kept talking about how much he missed my grandmother and how much I looked like my mother. As far as I could find out, no one else knew who my mother and grandmother were. My father was a bigger mystery, one Balthazar didn’t even know. I’d long since stopped caring about it, though I sometimes felt like trying to find out more.

  When my stomach had reached its limit, in addition to the blood I’d drunk earlier, we left the tea shop and strolled through a park nearby, recounting old memories in soft tones that the humans wouldn’t hear. I wasn’t sure what the response would be if they overheard Balthazar recalling Nefertiti’s wardrobe choices.

  When morning turned into afternoon, my mobile buzzed signaling a text from Olivier.

  Get your white booty home. We have things to do.

  As soon as I’d finished reading it, I felt a flutter of wind and my walking companion was no longer there. Balthazar enjoyed showing off his incorporeal abilities by appearing and disappearing at will. And that included several occasions when he was suddenly not there as the conversation got boring. I swore and cursed him under my breath for leaving me miles away from my car without someone to talk to as I walked back. By the time I returned to my car, I was half angry at the state of my hair from the wind blowing it, and half at the fact that the trip could’ve taken only a few minutes if I had used my true speed. I knew better than to zip across a human walkway. That didn’t mean I wasn’t tempted.

  I started driving back home, but I felt itchy to move my muscles. I parked my car on the side of the deserted road and got out. I put my hair back into a ponytail and started running down the street at top speed. Trees became a blur, and the smell of everything I was passing hit me all at once. Rain puddles, pine trees, asphalt, and the lingering scent of human, a companion from our house if I was correct.

  My ears could pick up animals miles away; rabbits, mice, and the occasional big game. The sharpness in senses I was feeling only happened when I ran. My brain was processing everything quickly, mapping out in my head what my predatory instincts needed in case I wanted to hunt. The thought of hunting made me slow down.

  There was no denying what I was. I had never been ashamed of being a Born vampire. It was only my centuries of experience that made killing humans so abhorrent to me. They were frail. Their lives ended. One mistake, one decision could end them forever. And then your friend was never there again. Lives were too precious for that.

  “Nice legs, Forest Gump.”

  I looked up and realized I’d already reached the front gate of my home. Cameron stood in the front lawn peering over the tall stone fence with a smirk on his face. I hoped for his sake he wasn’t trampling the hedges.

  “I felt like running,” I said out loud, even though he hadn’t asked me anything about what I was doing.

  “I can see that,” he replied. “And your car is…” I pointed behind me, and winced when he instantly looked murderous. “You left. Your sports car. ON THE HIGHWAY??”

  I winced again and tried to defend myself. “It’s not like people drive out here. Otherwise I wouldn’t be running.” I vaguely wondered why I was making excuses to someone less than a fourth my age, but Cameron’s glare made me feel like a fledgling again.

  “Go back. Pick your car up. Carry it home. If there’s a single scratch, I will force you to listen to Justin Beaver.”

  “Who?” I asked dumbly.

  “MARCH!”

  I grumbled and turned around, then went into a light sprint back to my car. Funny how just this morning, I was the bossy older person in this relationship. I didn’t, in fact, pick up my car and carry it back. I might be able to run fast enough so a human couldn’t see me, but there was no way I could hide carrying a car down the road.

  As soon as I got back and parked in the underground garage, Cameron was there swinging around a yoyo, waiting for me. He walked over, swinging his yoyo to narrowly miss my face (show off), and inspected my car. “Good. You pass.” I swung my foot out and lightly kicked his leg as I passed him, just as a playful gesture.

  Our smiles faded when we opened the door leading to the turned dormitory. The screams had died down a little; they’d lost that agonizing tone that made them so hard to listen to. The room felt cold and dreary, and the coffins didn’t help the atmosphere. Cameron’s fingers started twitching so he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  Othello stood in the center of the room looking over some paperwork with one of the Born that handled the companion system. A few bigger vampires stood guard among the coffins, making sure the turned didn’t escape. They were locked in, of course, but sometimes a strong one broke out and had to be dealt with. And by dealt with, I mean-

  “Ah, there you are,” Othello said as we approached, handing off the papers in his hand, and motioned for the companion supervisor to leave. The other vampire winked at Cameron as she passed, making me drop my fangs and growl in her direction. Cameron started coughing into his hand, hiding a laugh. “They should be ready in the morning,” Othello told us, like the turned were baked chickens in the oven. Though, it was kind of true, I suppose. He gave me an almost inappropriate once over. That was my cue to leave so I grabbed Cameron’s elbow and we left the basement.

  When we entered the larger drawing room, Olivier was lounging on a divan with a binder in her hands that had a cartoon vampire on the cover. Her companion, Renard, sat nearby swirling his wine around in a goblet. He was a devoted Frenchman, very attractive, and liked to sass his Lady as much as possible. This was his third tenure with her. Age had only made him more handsome. Romantic relationships between vampires and humans were forbidden, but that didn’t stop any of us from looking the other way when these two started flirting.

  Renard jumped up and tipped his faded top hat to me, exposing his buzzed red hair. “Ah, ma belle mademoiselle!” he said brightly with a twist of his barbell mustache. “Do not worry, ma Cherie,” he added, turning to Olivier who was ignoring him. “There is no one as charmante as you.” She muttered something in French, calling him stupid, and a few other things that weren’t so charmante of her. Renard dropped his outspread arms and gave her the stink eye. The barest of bare smiles pulled at the corner of her mouth.

  And that’s what I meant by flirting.

  Renard rolled his eyes and sat back down to drink from his chalice. “The screams have gotten better. That is a relief on my ears.” He’d been here long enough to have a vampire-like attitude about it, but I could still see circles under his eyes. He downed his wine in one long gulp.

  Olivier closed her vampire binder and sighed. “I can’t wait until tomorrow when we can start getting some work done. I hate sitting around.” Our break from work for two months was the part of the year Olivier hated. Before she came here, she had been one of the Hunters, the vampire police. They travelled in a small group, hunting down those of us that broke the law. The vampire law, I might add, not the human’s law. We didn’t abide by their rules. A Hunter’s job never ended, they were always pursuing a subject. Always. I didn’t know why Olivier decided to leave them and come here, and I knew better than to ask.

  She wasn’t the only one looking forward to tomorrow, when the screams would stop and the work began.

  Chapter 3

  Sleeping didn’t come easily that night. Olivier and I had spent the rest of the day going over paperwork. Cameron went to his room as soon as we finished dinner, leav
ing me by myself in the large castle. I went to my room and changed into a nightgown, but after an hour of lying in bed, I was still wide-awake. I put on a kimono robe and went downstairs to the library.

  The library was large and had the décor of the rooms safe for the turned to be in. Red carpet, red walls, electric candelabras instead of normal lighting, and heavy curtains at the windows that could be drawn during the day. The Born rooms were bright with large windows and no curtains. This was, after all, our home. After the turned were trained, they would all leave and be reassigned to another Order. We were the oldest group of vampires and maintained our purity. The turned were not allowed to have a permanent residence here.

  Waiting for me in the library was a sleeping figure on one of the ornate sofas. I smelled wine and brandy. Moving closer, I saw Renard’s sleeping face. His snores made his barbell mustache flutter. A large and mostly empty bottle of brandy lay atop a stack of books on the floor in front of him. I reached down and picked it up, my eyes searching the red carpet for the lid.

  “Amore…mi amore,” Renard muttered in his sleep. He suddenly came awake when I reached beside him to retrieve the brandy lid. “Ah, belle Lisbeth.” He sat up and scrubbed a hand down his face.

  “Did Olivier kick you out again?” I asked him, only half serious. She’d only done so once in their thirty years together. He dared to make a joke about her vampire mermaid dresses.

  Renard’s violet eyes caught the moonlight. It seemed as if all our companions had some exotic quality. “Non. I needed to drown the noise.” I’d made myself not notice, but the screams were still going on downstairs. The turned were close to being ready, and in a last hurrah, they’d gotten louder. This time most of them sounded like they’d lost the love of their life. I recognized it well, from all the years I’d been through this. A few though were screaming in rage. Those turned would take longer. Yippee.

  Renard got up and gently took the bottle from my hand, then leaned down to my face and kissed my cheek. “Back to my Lady. Bon chance.” He sauntered out, grabbing onto something for balance a few times. I sat on the sofa he’d been sleeping on and plopped my head down to the headrest.