For centuries he had bedded most of his prey. He didn’t compel them into the act, only to forget what he was afterward; finding willing humans had never been a problem. He didn’t care much about appearances; he had tasted humans of every shape, size, color, age, and creed. What he looked for was subtle and hard to define, but he always knew it when he caught its scent.
The salt of sweat-slickened skin, the twine of hair around his fingers, the softness of a breast or a belly against his palm…the liquid fire of bodies wrapped around each other on a dance floor, in a bed, against a wall…ending in the sting of sharpened canines and the rush of blood…they were better than any drug.
And then she came to him.
It had never occurred to him that he would have to give up his way of hunting—but then, he had never expected to find her. He was prepared to spend his entire rule alone, and part of that preparation involved trying very hard not to think about what he was missing, about how his life would change with a Queen at his side.
Now here she was, and his life had been thrown into the most joyous delirium imaginable. In that moment that he saw her in the Great Hall, sword in her hand and fire in her eyes, everything had changed. He simply didn’t realize how much until the first time they hunted together.
“Teach me,” she said.
So they moved through the crowd hand in hand, taking their time, allowing her to learn what to look for. She was still figuring out how to deal with people in groups, and her tendency was to shy away, but the contact of his fingers squeezing hers kept her grounded and able to focus on their goal.
He told her she must trust her instincts; she would know disease by scent, as well as drugs—she could even use her empathy to tell an evildoer from a kind soul, if that mattered to her, and he suspected it would. Many vampires, particularly the younger ones here in America, only fed on criminals, unwilling to take advantage of the innocent. He had met several vigilante vampires who killed in the name of justice…but how much distance was there, really, between them and the Blackthorn, who had believed themselves the righteous hand of God?
She was different. Because of her gift she would never be able to take in the blood of those who killed, raped, or abused; their rage and hatred would overwhelm her, assuming she could force herself to touch them. For her there would be conflict at first: how would she find a balance amid the protective instincts of a Queen, the demands of her gift, and what she had to do to survive?
He also knew they had to start with women. Her wounds were still too raw, even with death and transformation between her and her attackers. He could hear the echoes of her nightmares in his own sleep. That she was willing to let him touch her at all was an honor. It would probably be years before she could feed on men.
He took the lead. The girl he chose was flushed with youth and health and the first of what would no doubt be many margaritas. She had the sort of rounded, luscious figure he had always gravitated toward in women, but he didn’t choose her because she was beautiful so much as because he knew how she would taste…sweet, but with an underlying heat, like chocolate spiked with chili peppers, her softness deceptive, covering a sharp wit and a quick temper. He knew without asking that his Queen would like her.
He reached out to the girl and ran his hand down her bare arm as he bent his will against hers. She turned toward him slowly, and as their eyes met he drew her away from the crowd with his mind, bidding her silently to follow the saturnine couple that her friends wouldn’t remember seeing. They might think she had ducked out to the ladies’ room or to get another drink, but she would be back before they had a chance to worry.
The club had nooks and out-of-the-way corners, booths and back rooms, just out of sight of the dance floor but well within the awareness of the security personnel. They knew him, of course, and knew he could be trusted with their human guests, but the understanding here was that everyone, mortal or immortal, was being watched, and he approved.
They led the girl to a quiet corner and he had her lean back against the wall. He could hear her heart beating faster, and soothed her anxiety gently, letting her know there was nothing to fear.
He lay his hand against the girl’s chin and tilted her head toward him, exposing her throat to his beloved. “Drink,” he said softly.
She touched the girl’s neck with her pale, graceful fingers, and the girl shivered, a quiet moan escaping her lips. The Queen leaned closer, inhaling the scent of her skin, learning, as they all did, by listening to her senses. Her body was now under the sway of instincts thousands of years old, and she had to come to her own understanding of where her own personality fit into the predator’s, to learn the nature of her own darkness so she could choose how best to live it. Her tongue flicked out to touch the girl’s flesh, eliciting a gasp, and he felt no little desire of his own watching her, watching them, watching.
Her lips parted, and he saw her teeth extend downward, catching the light just before she struck. It was best to bite down quickly so that the blood would start flowing before the pain had time to register; even under thrall sometimes their reflex was to flinch, which could cause the vampire’s teeth to tear the muscle and cause more pain or even scars. A quick strike, like a lancet on a fingertip, left clean, small punctures.
The girl didn’t have time to cry out before the pain was over and the Queen’s mouth had clamped hard on the wounds. There would be faint bruises around the punctures where she held on, but they would fade almost immediately. By the time the human woke in the morning there would be no trace of their feeding, and as healthy as she was it was unlikely she’d even feel the loss of blood. They needed no more than she would donate at the Red Cross. There was no need to harm her, and every reason to protect her. She was their life.
He waited until he could feel the blood sating her hunger and then touched her lightly on the shoulder, but she had already slowed and was about to withdraw without prompting. He had forgotten she had fed on a live human once already, so she knew what it felt like—her heart rhythm falling into sync with her prey’s, telling her that to go further was to risk serious injury to the human. She lifted her mouth with a parting pass of her tongue over the wounds, lapping up the last traces of blood, and as she licked her lips, she looked up and met his eyes.
His entire body burned at that look. He could feel the satisfaction, the high, singing through her. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and hauled her lips to his. He could taste the girl’s blood in her mouth, and the fire took them both. For a moment he was lost in her, the whole world fading away.
“Wait,” she whispered, pulling back. She inclined her head toward the human.
He nodded. They had to take care of her first. He returned his attention to the girl, reasserting his control, and implanted the usual series of suggestions: she should go wash up, then get a glass of water. No more alcohol tonight. She should sit for a while, and if she was feeling at all dizzy, go home; there were cabs outside. She must eat well when she got home, and rest…and she would remember nothing except that she danced, and drank, and had a good time.
As she walked away he watched to make sure she was steady on her feet. Security knew what to look for, so even out of his sight she would be safe, but they had just taken life from her, and making sure she would suffer no ill effects was the least they could do.
He turned back and met the firelit emerald eyes once more. “You sleep with them, don’t you,” she said.
He smiled. “I used to.”
Now she leaned back on the wall, thoughtful. “I don’t know if I like this place.”
“You don’t have to. But I wanted you to see…this is our world, beloved. This is how we live alongside them and feed on them without resorting to murder. If we want to remain strong, we can’t live off bags—we have to hunt.”
“I know.” She watched the dance floor for a moment. “They have no idea what we really are.”
He moved beside her, sliding his arm around her waist, speaking clos
e to her ear. “Some do. Some of those people out there know exactly what they’re doing here. Some believe, others don’t but think they’re in a fetish club. Some of them want to be hurt, or even killed. It’s our job to make sure they don’t fall into the hands of those who would take them up on the offer.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. Her hand slid up his arm and over his heart. “I’m…”
“Scared,” he finished for her, holding her close. “Of what you feel, of what you are, of what it all means.”
“Yes.”
“It gets easier.”
“I’m going to want this…crave the taste, the way it makes me feel…forever. It never really goes away.”
“No. It’s a truth of being alive: human, vampire, animal, we’re always hungry.”
She shut her eyes tightly and held onto him harder. “It hurts…”
“Mind your shields, beloved. Don’t lose yourself.” He looked down into her eyes. “Hold on to who you are.”
Several long, slow breaths later, she was grounded again. He smiled, proud of her. When they had met she wouldn’t have been able to survive the change with her sanity intact. Now here they were in the heart of the city, surrounded by the conflicting emotions and energies of a hundred humans and several dozen vampires, and she was already grasping more than most young vampires did in the first month of new life. It was strange…he had seen the power in her when she was human, just in glimpses; yet it still amazed him to see it emerge, stretch out its claws, and sink them into his heart.
When she opened her eyes again their flame had returned, and she sighed, smiled, and kissed him hard. This time the heat was almost maddening; he wanted her so badly right then, it took all his strength not to shove her against the wall, but he didn’t think she would be quite ready to…
She took him by the shoulders and pinned him.
They kissed feverishly, nails digging into each other’s arms, one of her legs winding around him to press her hips against his. He groaned into her mouth, every inch of him burning for her.
He nearly snarled in frustration when she pulled back yet again.
“Not yet,” she said, the words a promise, a dare.
“Home?” he managed.
Her eyes meandered over to the crowd again, then back to him. She smiled. There was wickedness in that smile and he loved it. “No…first…it’s your turn.”
Oh, yes. She was a fast learner…and he was doomed to die in her fire.
It would be a privilege.
She took his hands and led him toward the dance floor.
The Big Bad Wolf
The Sunset Valley Autumn Carnival was in full swing when the vampires arrived.
The parking lot of the local high school football stadium had been transformed into a midway. The rich smell of funnel cake frying and the reek of the petting zoo filled the air, as did the shouts of children on the Ferris wheel. The cacophony made it an ideal place to hide…
…unless the Queen was after you.
Miranda’s boots thudded on the asphalt in a rhythm that almost perfectly accompanied the riotous calliope music from the merry-go-round. She slipped easily among the families of humans who were milling around in front of the rides and games, her senses on high alert, sweeping the area for the telltale energy of her own kind.
She halted in the middle of the carnival and spoke into the communicator on her wrist. “Report!”
Her Second-in-Command replied, “They split up as soon as they reached the crowd. We’re tracking them now—one headed toward the petting zoo, the other two into the midway.”
“I’m right by the petting zoo. I’ll take the first one.” Miranda veered off toward the left, where an area had been set aside and surrounded by a fence of hay bales to keep a handful of shaggy goats, a pair of bored donkeys, and a single grouchy-looking emu away from the noise. A few children were in the enclosure offering the goats paper cups of dried corn.
Miranda bypassed them entirely and vaulted over the far wall, landing in the empty area between the carnival’s edge and the rows of cars. There were tall stacks of hay bales back here too, more than big enough to hide behind.
She paused and closed her eyes, listening, moving her concentration away from the crowd. She reached into her coat and pulled out a stake.
“Come out, come out,” she said into the darkness. “Make this easier on yourself.”
The Queen extended her senses, using her empathic gift to look for…there.
Behind one of the haystacks she could sense fear.
She moved around it slowly, making no sound, staying downwind to help keep him from scenting her. She reached toward him with her gift, nudging his level of terror up slowly until he was virtually paralyzed with panic. She tried not to push too hard—if she scared him too badly he’d bolt, and if he ran off into the parking lot he’d be much harder to hunt down. She didn’t want to waste any more time on this one than she had to. She had other work to do tonight.
You’re so scared. You don’t want to die. You want to run. You want to run to the left—
He let out a cry of fear and burst from the side of the haystack, scrambling to get his feet under him.
The stake cartwheeled through the air and slammed into his back. He hit the ground in a sprawl and didn’t move again.
“Get a retrieval team to these coordinates,” Miranda told her Second. “Where’s the next one?”
“Somewhere in the funhouse. Wood building, past the Ferris wheel. The carnival organizers said they didn’t open it because it wasn’t finished in time, so there’s no crowd. The Prime is already there.”
“I’m going to help him. You pin down Varken.”
“On it, my Lady.”
The funhouse didn’t look like it would be terribly fun, but then, even when she was still human Miranda had never really understood why people liked to be scared on purpose. There were enough frightening things in life already…like her.
In front of the hastily-constructed plywood building, which had been cordoned off already with yellow caution tape, a figure in a long black coat stood impassively watching the window.
Miranda came to stand beside him. “He’s in there?”
Prime David Solomon, monarch of the Southern United States’ vampire population, turned to her with a smile in his deep blue eyes. “Cowering appropriately. I assume you got Cerdo?”
She gave her husband a bloodthirsty smile.
David glanced back toward the carnival. “Can you keep anyone from coming near?”
Miranda nodded, and again extended her gift toward the humans, this time lightly implanting the feeling that they should stay in the area they were in and not venture any closer to the funhouse…in fact they shouldn’t even look in its direction.
“All yours,” she said.
David lifted one hand and closed it into a fist.
The plywood walls of the funhouse began to crack and pop off their nails. The noise was deafening, but Miranda’s gift was strong, and the two hundred or so humans on the midway didn’t so much as blink as the funhouse tumbled in on itself, throwing clouds of sawdust and debris into the air.
“Sire, my Lady, we’ve got Varken cornered in the stadium office—the brick building near the entrance. We’re awaiting your orders.”
“You go on ahead,” David told the Queen. “I’ll stay here and make sure he’s dealt with. I know you want to handle Varken personally.”
She nodded and started to run off, but David caught her hand and kissed it.
“Be careful, beloved,” he said. “Don’t let your anger get the best of you.”
She shot him a Look. “What am I, a Jedi? These bastards killed a van full of kids. We should be stringing them up by their own entrails.”
“Too messy,” he said. “This is a brand new coat.”
Miranda rolled her eyes. “Then I’ll get you a rain poncho.”
He kissed her hand again, then walked purposefully past the yellow tape and into
the wreckage of the building, where their quarry was, if still alive, about to meet a very unpleasant (but hopefully not too messy) end.
She headed toward the building their Second had indicated, where she could see the shapes of ten of her warriors waiting outside.
Faith, the Second, bowed to her when she arrived. “Do you have a plan?”
Miranda shrugged. “Go in. Cut his head off. Go home and have a hot bath.”
From inside the building, she heard a child scream.
The Queen met Faith’s eyes. “Did I forget to mention the hostages?” Faith asked.
“Fantastic.”
“Can you influence him from out here?” Faith asked. “You could make him want to give up.”
Miranda frowned, shook her head. “There’s a lot of stuff in the way. Bricks, drywall, electrical—I haven’t quite mastered reaching through walls yet.”
“You mean you don’t know everything after two months as a vampire?” Faith asked wryly. “Why, my Lady, I find I’m disappointed.”
“Stuff it, Second. Is there a back entrance?”
“A door, yes.”
“Keep him focused on the front, then, and I’ll go in the back.”
Before she left, however, Miranda walked up closer to the front door and called where she knew he could hear: “Arnoud Varken! You are under an order of execution for the murder of seven humans. Come out and face justice and a swift, merciful death.”
All she heard were what was surely a series of insults hurled back at her in Dutch.
Miranda gestured for Faith to take it from there, and quickly scaled the chain-link fence to reach the back of the building.
The door had only a standard lock, not even a deadbolt—these humans, so trusting. She broke the knob off with one hand and the door swung inward.
Right away she could feel the fear. There were two humans with Varken, one adult and one child. He’d snatched them from the carnival and dragged them here as leverage. He had no intention of letting them leave alive.
Met by Midnight: Shadow World Stories and Scenes, Vol. 1 (The Shadow World) Page 10
