by Anna Abner
Groaning in pleasure, Maks sank his fangs into the man’s throat, biting hard enough to rupture several vessels and temporarily close his windpipe. The donor struggled valiantly, but Maks was hurt and starving. He drank deeply, bubbling hot blood rushing down his throat until the human ceased struggling. Limp and barely breathing, the tourist tumbled back into the closet.
Warm and sated, Maks didn’t rush to climb off the floor, but savored the euphoria of drinking fresh human blood.
In a minute, he’d hurry back to Olek’s side like a good dog and do his bidding, but what Oleksander couldn’t comprehend was that after twenty years of torture, after losing his little bird, after having his sole reason for existing torn from his arms, Maks was walking vengeance. Nothing and no one would stand between him and revenge.
#
Alina woke slowly, taking in a myriad of uncomfortable sensations—a dull ache in her throat, patches of seared flesh on her hands, and a doozy of a headache.
Shit. Where was she?
Oh, right. Hell.
It all came back. Her stupid idea to search out answers in America, the tour bus, her cousin’s blood.
“Ow.” She tried to sit up and investigate, but her arms didn’t cooperate, and she sank back onto a plush sofa. “What happened?” Her voice tore through her throat, scratchy and deeper than normal.
“If it isn’t Sleeping Beauty, back from the dead.”
A surge of panic. “What?”
“Feeling okay?” Connor sat on the opposite end of the sofa, a gun in his lap. Like a big one. The kind of handgun that would blow the back of your head off.
“Dizzy.” She steeled herself and shoved up, resting her head on the arm of the sofa. “What’s with the cannon?”
He’d saved her life. He’d scared off the infected who’d killed Stefan. But she’d seen enough scary movies to know that didn’t mean he was a hero. More likely, he had his own nefarious motives for carrying her off the bus.
“There’s still time for you to turn.”
Turn? As in become infected? Ali almost laughed. But Connor wasn’t kidding. In fact, his mouth didn’t even twitch.
For her to become a vampire, infected blood must have entered her bloodstream through a cut or a scratch. It wasn’t like the common cold. She remembered Roz talking about blood spraying her open wound. Any inkling to joke vanished.
“That sounds bad.”
“The infection has a six-hour window to kick in. After that, you’re not infected.”
She’d heard things about infecteds, of course. They’d been around for decades, getting the most attention about twenty years earlier when Olek published his manifesto and invaded Prague. Or, rather, failed to invade Prague. Oleksander, his three brothers, and their fifty soldiers had been beaten back fairly easily and imprisoned. But they had never seemed like monsters to her, just people no longer in control.
“So, you’re going to watch me for six hours in case I vamp out?” Things like this didn’t happen in London. Or anywhere else in the Western world. Only in Nevada.
“I thought all the vampires were captured after Prague,” she said. “This isn’t possible.”
Two weeks in America studying family history. There’d been such excitement and anticipation in the beginning to see a new place, to meet new family, to discover new things. Once she’d settled at Uncle Sully’s desert hideaway the joy of exploring her genealogy had dwindled considerably. Though his mail was delivered to a place called Paradise, his three-bedroom home was as far from it as a person could get. Even so, she’d seen the sights, tasted the food, learned absolutely nothing, and now she wanted to go home.
Nice idea, Ali. A holiday in vampire central.
Connor passed his handgun from one hand to the other. “We’ll see.”
He was serious.
“And then what?”
“Then you’re free to go.”
What if she tried to leave before then? Would he shoot her? She studied his profile. Yes. Yes, he would.
She had to get to Paradise, to her aunt and uncle, so she could get the hell out of this country. Pronto. She needed Connor to drive her, so she’d sit through whatever trials he required if he helped her afterward. She faked bravery despite the fear kicking her in the chest.
“What are the symptoms of vampirism?” she asked.
“You’ll be able to heal through anything short of decapitation.”
Ali managed a hoarse laugh. “That would have come in handy a little while ago.”
He didn’t share her amusement. “Then there’s increased speed and strength and an overall energy boost.” His gaze travelled slowly over her body. “Any of those things going on?”
Let him see for himself how jazzed she felt. She could only imagine the blood and dirt caked on her face, but if her cheeks were as pale as her arms, she looked like death. Nothing jazzy about that.
“Six hours, huh?”
Connor was handsome, no doubt about it. But there was something off about him, and she wanted to figure it out. Was it guilt? Shame? She caught a glimpse of his eyes—sad, brown eyes. They piqued her curiosity. What did he have to be sad about?
“Well, you’ve been out of it for a while.”
“What are we talking?”
He checked his watch. “About an hour and a half.”
Ali searched for a distraction, and she found it in the opulence around her. She was stretched out on the sofa of a penthouse suite, if she had to guess. The crown molding was more elaborate than any she’d ever seen with cornices and gilt edges everywhere. The theme was certainly old world French, and she saw more than one fleur-de-lis with gold accents. Out of the wall of windows, nothing but sky was visible, making her think they were near the top of a high-rise.
She took a second look at Connor. His clothes weren’t expensive—jeans, boots, and a T-shirt. Nothing about him screamed wealth and privilege. In fact, he radiated a hungry air at odds with the luxury around them. Another mystery.
“K. I can do ninety minutes.” She wiggled into a more comfy position, fluffing the pillows and sinking into the plush cushions. “Can I get some water?”
“In a bit.”
“Afraid to leave me alone?”
He fiddled with his weapon, refusing to answer. He was ready to kill her, if it came to that. She remembered his expression right before he’d fired his rifle at her vampire captor—cold calculation.
“How did you find me?” Ali asked. “In the bus. Did you see the crash?”
Connor shook his head. “We got a tip Volk was in the area. Got there right as you two came outside.”
“I still can’t believe he was a vampire,” she said. “I thought the story about a secret Nevada vampire prison was an urban legend.”
“All true. I’ve been hunting rogue vampires for the past three months, ever since Olek and Volk were, uh, released. They’ve been infecting people.”
“Vampires were imprisoned here, and now they’re free?” Coming to America had definitely been a bad idea.
“You saw him for yourself.”
True, but the experience had been surreal and starting to fade into nightmare territory.
For a split second, she was back in the bus, reliving every insane moment. The fire. The blood. Her cousin fighting for his last handful of heartbeats. If she were a normal girl, she would have cried. Instead, she swallowed the grief, as fresh and raw as a wound, and crammed it down beneath her ribs.
She hardly cried at all anymore. And never in front of people. Ever.
An hour and a half… “God, I miss my Xbox.” An hour and a half would fly by if she had Medal of Honor and a Code Red.
“Really?” He finally looked at her again, and her toes clenched. Handsome didn’t even cover it. He was the kind of man that made women reckless. Not her, of course, but other women. Normal women.
“That’s my favorite kind of day.” Her fingers trailed over the gauze bandage taped to her throat and up to inspect the state of her h
air. Good God. Total rat’s nest. Was that dried blood? She patted it down.
“Don’t move a muscle.” Connor hopped up, and there was a quick changing of the guard. Roz took his place.
“Thanks for the stitches,” Ali said.
Roz averted her eyes, mumbling something incoherent.
Ali’s gaze roamed the woman’s face, glossy black hair, and flat stomach. Cute and pretty weren’t enough to describe her. Ali had to dust off the bigger adjectives.
She was an island princess. The kind you sacrificed to the volcano gods.
Connor returned, carrying a chair and a small pack. Ali followed him with her eyes, taking in more details. He had a limp. Not a foot dragging, Igor kind of limp, but a subtle hitch in his gait. Interesting.
He took a seat beside her, produced a wireless PlayStation controller and pressed a button on a second remote. A decorative panel in the armoire across from her slid down, revealing a large, flat screen television.
She squealed as loudly as her sore throat allowed. “No way!” Her American family loved DVDs, not video games. She hadn’t played anything more substantial than a phone app in ten days.
“Here.” He handed her the controller, the gun still clenched in his right fist.
Her excitement plummeted about 87 levels. “There’s nothing on the hard drive,” she said, not sure whether to laugh or cry.
“Download whatever you want,” Connor said, putting his boots on the coffee table and settling into the sofa beside her. “It’s all taken care of.”
“Remind me when I get home to send you some decent titles. Metal Gear Solid, Call of Duty, definitely Grand Theft Auto. You’ll love it.” Thoughts of home only brought up more grief, so she focused every ounce of her attention on the controller in her hands. She chose a FIFA title she hadn’t played before and started downloading.
“So, uh,” Connor fidgeted, “Maksim Volk had you by the hand today. You want to tell me why?”
“Who’s Maksim Volk?” she asked, watching the scrolling download bar pass fifty percent.
“He’s the vampire who attacked your bus. You don’t know him?”
Finally, the game downloaded, and she clicked through the opening credits. “I’m not really into vampires.” She preferred the digital world to fairy tales, even if the paranormal were now part of everyday life. All those supernatural mutations popping up across the globe didn’t interest her nearly as much as her impressive video game collection.
Connor grunted. “He was into you. I thought you might know why.”
“Sorry.”
He leaned in and pointed at the screen. “Haven’t you played this before?” he asked, a teasing note in his voice. “The team you put together is awful.”
She smiled. “I like underdog stories.”
For a long time, Ali got so lost in the mechanics of the game that the suite, including the pair of strangers in it, faded away.
“So, where’s home?” Connor asked, bringing her back to reality. His deep voice rolled over her, through her. “I can’t place your accent.”
“Britain.” She tried to make a goal, but the other team blocked it and then stole the ball. She had to hustle to steal it back, but once she did, she caught Connor frowning at her non-answer. Her story meant something to him, which only intensified her suspicions. Why did he care where she came from?
But he held the gun. “My dad moved from the Ukraine to London right after I was born.” Where she should have stayed. “This trip is a family history type of thing. My first time in the States. I’ve been staying with family I’ve never met before.”
He didn’t respond.
“So. This is your suite?” Her eyebrows rose. Because the opulent room didn’t mesh with his attire or personality. No nice way to say it.
“Don’t tease,” he said. “We have investors. They pay for everything.”
“Vampire hunter investors?” What kind of person would bankroll such a thing? It boggled her mind and made her wonder if the infecteds had investors, too.
“They care about what happens here.”
Ali pressed pause on the game. “What exactly goes on?”
“You heard the army kept vampires here, right? Well, they got out.”
Ali didn’t know what to say, other than, “If I had any idea I’d be traveling to a vampire’s playground, I assure you I never would’ve bought the ticket. Why isn’t it common knowledge? Why isn’t it in the media?”
“Same reason shapeshifters aren’t in the media, I guess,” Connor said. “They stay under the radar. Besides that,” he added, “as far as I can tell, the government is trying to recapture Olek and his followers before they draw too much attention. They’re into secrecy.”
More secrets.
Ali turned back to the game, easily winning even with her less than impressive roster. She had some trouble in the semi-finals, but by the time she found her stride, Connor was checking his phone.
“Time’s up,” he said, keeping his gun in his left hand. “Can I look at your throat?”
Ali set the controller aside. “Sure, I guess.” Her cut throbbed. Nothing had miraculously healed. She wasn’t infected.
He slid his finger under the edge of her bandage and peered at the wound beneath. The blood loss made her shiver. A head-to-toe quiver, complete with raised goose bumps.
Who was she kidding? It wasn’t anemia. It was his proximity. His clean, masculine scent. His touch. It was him.
She chuckled to cover her response. “Am I cleared for duty?”
“You’re not infected.”
“Well, that’s a relief. Can I get a glass of water now?”
Connor returned with a bottle of cold water from the stainless steel refrigerator. She guzzled it, spilling some down the sides of her mouth. Oh, wow. Best water she’d ever had.
“More?” came his gruff voice.
He was so not her idea of a nursemaid, and yet he was doing great.
“Yes, please.”
Feeling stronger, Ali swung her legs around and sat up. “I’m staying with family in Paradise. How far are we?”
“Not that far,” he said, passing her a second bottle.
She needed her uncle. She had something really awful to tell him, but her cell phone was in the wrecked bus.
“Where are we?”
“Le Sort Hotel on the Las Vegas Strip.”
“Can I use your phone to call my uncle?”
“I don’t have a cellphone, but hang on.” He glanced at the empty bedroom doorway. “Roz, I need your phone.”
Roz re-entered the room, every fiber in her body vibrating with what Ali guessed was irritation. Maybe Connor wasn’t the real threat, despite his hardware. Maybe Ali should pay closer attention to his female accomplice. Something had pissed her off, big time.
Ali dialed the number from memory into Roz’s cell. It rang and rang, finally triggering voicemail. “Uncle Sully.” How to summarize her day in a sixty-second message? “I’m okay, but something really bad…” She exhaled. “Sully, I’m okay, and I’m coming back. It might take a few hours, but I’m coming.” She ended the call.
Still a little shaky, Ali rose slowly from the sofa and approached a set of sparkling French doors leading onto a wide balcony. Through the glass stretched the bright and glittering Las Vegas Strip. Standing became a bit of an issue, so she sank into the nearest deck chair.
“I need to get to Paradise,” she told Connor, her eyes still on the dazzling view. “My cousin died on the bus, and I have to be with my family.”
Her whole life her father had been a serious control freak, especially with her, his only child. She couldn’t drive or date until she was twenty. No friends hanging around the house. No sleepovers, period. She’d only moved into her own place about six months ago. And getting that dream to actual fruition had been more complicated and stressful than trying to sneak heroin through Heathrow.
Since she’d landed on American soil, she’d been keeping to his rules even though
he wasn’t around to enforce them anymore. Avoid strangers. 9 pm curfew. Long sleeves and pants. Privacy at all costs.
Connor crossed his arms, and the muscles in his chest and shoulders bunched. “We’ll drive you.”
“Thank you so much,” Ali said.
Roz squared off with him. “We will?”
He nodded, and some of his hair fell into his eyes. Dark, brown eyes. Strong arms. Faded blue jeans. God, he was addictive. How the hell did someone like him end up in Las Vegas fighting vampires?
“What’s your story?” Ali asked. “How does one become a vampire hunter?”
“You’ve heard of the seer Ilvane?”
There were a lot of seers in the world who predicted the future, but there was only one Oracle. “I know of her. Of course.” The London Telegraph printed and re-printed her prophecies in a little box in the corner of their front page. She had yet to be wrong. About anything she wrote. Whoever she was, her prophecies were mega spooky and lots of times called people out by name.
He stared right through her. “I’m Connor from Cleveland. The fuck up.”
Chapter Three
Connor hated complications. Why he’d brought this chick into his home, he had no idea. As if ridding the world of evil and redeeming his name weren’t enough, now he’d volunteered for baby-sitting duty.
But she’d been lying there, all blonde hair and wide eyes, like innocence on a stick. He knew, just by looking at her, that she’d never seen a vampire before. She’d never been punched in the jaw, stabbed, or worked over with a two by four. She reminded him of home.
What a moron.
Ali glanced nervously from him to Roz and back again. “You’re Connor from Cleveland? Really?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but Roz cut him off, shielding him. All hundred and twenty pounds of her. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”
“I know that one,” Ali said, her baby blue eyes trained on him. “Something about you freeing a vampire and destroying mankind.”
