Replica (The Blood Borne Series Book 2)

by Shannon Mayer

  PRAISE FOR THE BLOOD BORNE SERIES

  “All Hail the Queens of Urban Fantasy”

  “Kick ass and unique, I loved it”

  “A great partnership is born”

  “Brilliance. Pure Brilliance”

  “Recombinant is the perfect thriller”

  “Intense, Intriguing and Pulse Pounding”

  “Not Your Typical Vampire Book”

  “Gritty, Edgy and Gripping”

  CHAPTER 1

  LEA

  “Get out of my way, you nincompoops.” I angled my shoulder to push through the group of gawking, laughing humans. Airports—even I needed a cattle prod to get through the crowds.

  Using the points of my elbows, I forced them to make room for me until I was under the large-screen TV that had caught my attention. I looked up at Rachel’s face, her mouth moving silently. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, every strand in place. Makeup made her blue eyes look big, innocent and soft. I snorted to myself. That was a crock of shit—the girl was anything but soft, but I understood why they’d done it. To make what she was saying believable. Because the report would be anything but.

  Someone cranked the volume as Rachel said the biggest, baddest, most unbelievable word of all.

  “Vampires. They are real, they are dangerous, and our government has been using them for bioterrorism.” Rachel’s baby blues stared into the crowd, begging them to understand.

  To believe.

  She spoke of her friend Derrick, how he’d died finding the evidence she was now sharing with the world. Then she described the hidden bunker we had destroyed in New York City. Her voice dipped into husky tones as she described the monsters we’d found in the bunker and the terrible experiments that had taken place there. She was telling the truth; I’d been there with her. The explosion of the bunker, which had been front page news everywhere, was only more backing for the words she spoke with such passion.

  I dropped my eyes to see how the humans around me were responding to Rachel’s report. Their reactions were varied. Disbelief, shock, anger...laughter. The laughter caught on. At first only nervous titters, but it turned into full-on donkey braying. They laughed, but I saw the truth in their eyes.

  They believed her.

  “My friend, you are damn good,” I whispered to myself. There were not too many reporters who could out the existence of a supernatural mythical being without convincing the masses she was handing out bullshit. But, typical of humans, the truth was too scary to deal with. It was easier to laugh it off. Even if they laughed marching to their own gallows.

  I sensed the guy before his hand cupped my right ass cheek, making it look like he stopped me in my tracks. “What do you think, beautiful? You think vampires are real?” He squeezed harder; I turned slowly as I extended my fangs. Batting my eyes, I leaned into him, my dark hair sweeping forward to curtain my face.

  I flashed him a toothy smile. “What do you think?”

  He stumbled back as if I’d shoved him. I wished I had.

  The groper was the least of my concerns; I was worried about the human world’s reaction to Rachel’s announcement.

  The laughter continued and people drifted away from the TV. I walked through the terminal as my flight and ID were called again.

  “FINAL BOARDING. LEA SMITH. PLEASE REPORT TO GATE 235 IF YOU ARE IN THE BUILDING.”

  Two weeks ago, I would have boarded this plane to go after Stravinsky. As the vampire who’d masterminded the inhumane experiments, the madman behind the terrorism, he needed to be staked. But two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been boarding this plane alone; Calvin would have been with me. Now I was bonded to Rachel—whether she realized it or not. Boarding this plane was a ruse to throw anyone watching off my trail so I could track who went after her, but part of me wanted to board anyway. The desire to kill Stravinsky was almost as strong as the bond I had with Rachel. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

  However, my allegiance had changed, as hard as that was to accept. I tugged the long gloves further up my arms, pulled my cowl over my head and stepped out of the airport and onto the street. I raised my hand and flagged down a cab.

  Madre de Dios, Stravinsky should be my top priority. But seeing Rachel on the screen only confirmed I couldn’t leave her alone to face the fallout from her report, which—judging from the reactions of the airport passengers—would be of the nuclear variety. Worse, I felt a tug toward her...like she needed me. I couldn’t turn away from that gut instinct.

  “Where you off to?” the cabbie asked.

  “The Warner News station,” I said, keeping my voice low and soothing. He nodded, a smile on his generous lips.

  “You see the report on vampires?”

  I blinked several times as I tugged the cowl closer around my head. That was fast. If word was already out on the street... “How did you hear about it?”

  “Twitter is a wonderful thing. You know, I check everything that’s hashtag vampire. I’ve been hoping something like this would come up.” His green eyes swept up to the rearview mirror. “What do you think? You believe in the boogeyman?” He spoke flippantly as he steered the cab into traffic. I sat up so I could see his name badge on the dash.

  “Ivan?”

  “Yup, that’s me. Shitty name, if you don’t mind me saying so, but my mother’s favorite uncle died young, and well, you get the picture.” He smiled, and white, white teeth blinked back at me.

  “Russian, isn’t it?” I softened my words even more, a niggling suspicion at the back of my neck.

  He nodded several times as he steered us through traffic. “Yeah, you good with nationalities?”

  I dropped my voice further yet. A whisper of a whisper. “Yes. And where do you think I’m from, Ivan?”

  His grin never faltered. “Well, it’s hard to say with that dark hoodie on, but your voice has a bit of an accent. Maybe...Italy?”

  “Close.” I barely breathed the word out.

  What kind of game was he playing? Or was I being too fucking jaded, yet again? I leaned back in my seat, but kept my hands at the top of my boots, where my silver stakes resided. They would work on supernaturals other than vampires...including what I suspected was Ivan’s particular flavor of monster. His smell was distinct.

  Like the smell of fresh snow and maple syrup.

  We made it to the TV station without incident. Perhaps it should have told me something that when a simple car ride was quiet, I got...nervous.

  I pushed the money through the slot in the plastic barrier, making sure my fingers brushed his. A flicker of energy snapped across our hands and his eyes shot to mine. He was far from harmless, but he wasn’t the raving maniac so many of his kind ended up being.

  A kid. He was a kid compared to my age.

  Rachel wouldn’t want me to hurt him, and that was the only thing that kept me from driving my stake through the plastic and into the back of his neck.

  I lifted the corner of my mouth so he could clearly see a single fang. “Ivan, not only do I believe the boogeyman is real, I know him quite well. Or should I say, her?”

  His mouth dropped open and he spluttered as I slid out of the cab.

  Which was why it shouldn’t have surprised me when he stepped out of the cab as well. “Wait, I want to talk to you.”

  I rolled my eyes, but didn’t stop. “Go home to your kennel, Ivan.”

  He let out a snarl and whipped around in front of me. Taller than me, his light green eyes were closer to chartreuse. A tattoo on his left collarbone peeked out from the V in his shirt. The hard edges of his jaw and muscular torso told me all I needed to know. He was an enfo
rcer, good at keeping his people in line. I reached up and tugged his shirt down further. A pack tattoo. A simple maple leaf torn into four pieces with a wolf’s tooth between each.

  “Russian, indeed. This is a Canadian pack stamp. You running from someone?”

  Ivan shrugged and grinned. “Maybe. You want to run with me?” He waggled his eyebrows in a ridiculous up and down movement. I refused to smile.

  “Do you have any idea what you’re suggesting, you idiot?” I put a hand on his chest and he leaned into it, a chuckle rumbling under my fingers.

  He put his hand over mine. “I think so.”

  The flash of heat between us shocked me. My heart had been tied to Calvin for so long that the idea of being with anyone else...especially someone non-human… I pushed him hard enough to send him back a good ten feet. Which, when pushing his kind around, was saying something.

  His grin never faltered. “I want to come with you. Wherever you’re going, let me come.”

  I put two fingers to my forehead. Stubborn-ass werewolves. Once they set their minds on something, that was it. “I could kill you where you stand, drain you down and throw your body in the back of your cab to rot. Without blinking.”

  Ivan stretched his arms over his head and cracked his knuckles. His eyes never left mine. “You could try. There’s a reason I was able to break free of my pack.”

  I strode past him. “If you follow me, I will kill you.”

  He fell into stride behind me. “I don’t believe you. I think you like me.”

  I grabbed my stake and spun, aiming for his chest. He caught my forearm, stopping me. “Go away, mutt.”

  “I’ve heard it all, sweetheart. Everything and then some. You aren’t going to scare me off.”

  Frustration snapped through me like the flickering of a lightning bolt. Brilliant, hot, and then gone with nothing more than a negative afterimage of what had been there. I did not have time for this shit.

  I jerked my hand out of his. Or tried to. I jerked, he pulled and I was suddenly pressed against his chest, those chartreuse eyes staring down at me.

  His eyes dipped to my mouth.

  “Don’t you fucking dare,” I bit out, then snapped my teeth at him for good measure. A thread of panic curled over me. He would not kiss me. He wouldn’t. He was a...and I was a...

  He pulled his head back a few inches, though he didn’t let me go. “I don’t know your name, or at least not all of it.”

  That made no sense. I hadn’t given him anything, either in the cab or out on the street.

  Once more I jerked away from him, breaking free this time, turned my back and strode toward the news station. Rachel. I had to find her and get us both the hell out of here. The certainty that something was coming for her grew more and more. Which meant it was coming for us both.

  Behind me, Ivan laughed softly, his footsteps telling me all I needed to know. The dumb-ass mutt wasn’t giving up.

  “I’m not telling you my name,” I said over my shoulder.

  He shrugged. “Then I’ll call you the only thing I know.”

  Bitch. Bloodsucker. Vamp tramp. It wouldn’t have surprised me for any of those derogatory names to have flowed from his mouth, spilling out into the street between us. What he said, though, could not have shocked me more than if he’d ignored my order and planted his lips to mine.

  “I’ve been waiting to meet you, Cazador.”

  CHAPTER 2

  RACHEL

  The camera lights went off and the crew stood around the studio, their mouths open as they stared at me in disbelief. I knew it was a lot to take in. I knew there would be skeptics—how could there not be? If I’d been home watching my report, I would have been skeptical too. I was hardwired that way. But I could tell some of them did believe. They were looking at me with the same expression I’d seen on my boss Don’s face when I’d approached him with the story.

  Terror.

  That was what had convinced him to give me airtime. Once I’d presented my evidence, he believed me. The issue was making everyone else believe. I had spent forty-eight hours working nearly around the clock with the news team to get the story right.

  I was exhausted and proud, but I was also grieving. Derrick had lost his life to bring this story to light. I hoped I’d made him proud. But I had to admit, I was also sad about losing Lea. She’d promised to come back, and while she didn’t make promises lightly, she hadn’t given me a time frame. For someone who had lived hundreds of years, a few days was nothing. For that matter, I suspected a few months was nothing too.

  If only I’d convinced her to let me go with her to get Stravinsky.

  But now wasn’t the time to think about all that. I had to deal with the fallout of the report first.

  One of the stage crew led me off camera as they set up for the next segment in another part of the stage. Kristin Schumacher, the Warner News five p.m. regular anchor, gave me a look that said she thought I’d lost it.

  I headed down the hall to the green room, glaring at the people who snickered as I walked past. They wouldn’t be laughing when the monsters came for them.

  Don waited for me outside the green room, shifting his weight from leg to leg. We hadn’t worked together much in person—most of the stories I’d sent him had been email attachments from the Middle East—but it didn’t take a genius to see he was pissed.

  “This is not going over well.”

  I walked past him into the green room to get my bag. “We knew we wouldn’t convince everyone.”

  “I look like a fucking joke, Rachel.”

  I grabbed the strap of my bag and looped it over my head. “We discussed this ad nauseam. Both of us knew it would be a hard sell. You saw the finished report. You showed it to your boss. You were totally on board. What happened?”

  “Sponsors. That’s what happened. We’ve ticked off Hudson Electric and they’re a major sponsor.”

  “And Hudson Electric is a subsidiary of Monroe Industries, which is in bed with Simmons Industries.” I shook my head, but I wasn’t sure why I was surprised. I’d dug through more of Derrick’s research. Simmons Industries had donated money to a special government project. “So what do they want?”

  “They want us to issue a retraction. They want you to go on camera to admit you made it up.”

  “You told them to go fuck themselves, right?”

  He was ashen, his eyes wide.

  I put my hand on my hip. “Oh, my God. You actually want me to issue a statement saying I faked this whole thing.”

  “My job is on the line.”

  “And so is mine. We discussed this. We knew we’d face people who wouldn’t believe it. You told me you had my back. I guess you forgot to add the caveat that you would only support me until the flames got too hot. Then you’d just throw me into the fire to save yourself.”

  “Rachel. I’m sorry.” He sounded nervous, like he wasn’t just worried about his job.

  “You want me to do this—to throw away my career—so you can save face? Why on earth would I do that?”

  “They’ll discredit your father,” he said quietly.

  I took a step back. “What?”

  “Your father was involved in an embezzlement case a couple of years before he died in the bank robbery shootout. They’ll release a report stating he planted evidence to get the conviction. The guy will walk and your father’s memory will be tarnished.”

  My father had been a detective on the Dayton, Ohio police force—much loved by the community. Hundreds of people had shown up to his funeral, but while it’d helped to know our father was so well regarded, my four brothers and I had still suffered. Our mother had died years before him, so his death meant we were alone in the world.

  My reaction had been to run off to college soon after his death, then immediately to Iraq to cover the war, but my eldest brother Michael had dealt with his grief by creating a charity in our father’s honor. The program helped match troubled youth with mentors who put them back on the pat
h to becoming productive members of society. If Dad’s reputation were smeared, it would destroy everything.

  “Those goddamned bastards.”

  “You have twenty-four hours to issue a statement of your own.”

  “Let me guess…Kristen is out there in front of the camera discrediting me right now.”

  He had to decency to look guilty. “I’m sorry.”

  “Save it for some other idiot who believes you.” I shoulder-checked him as I stomped out the door and headed for the elevator bank.

  Why was I so surprised? There was big money backing the Asclepius Project. It made sense they would go after me. Whoever was in charge of the mess knew exactly how to get me in line. Had my ex-boyfriend Sean filled them in? He’d always accused me of hero-worshipping my father and trying to live up to his expectations. Sean had always known exactly how to manipulate me like a puppet master with a puppet.

  But I wasn’t going to do it. Sometimes standing up for what you believed in meant making sacrifices. This whole mess was a giant powder keg waiting to blow. Stravinsky and the military were nearly ready to unleash a weapon of mass destruction unlike any the world had ever seen. They weren’t going to kill people. They were going to turn them into mindless monsters to attack everyone in their path. There was no way I was issuing a retraction when there were thousands of innocent lives on the line.

  Standing up for what was right, no matter how much it hurt, was the best way to honor my father’s legacy. I couldn’t back down.

  But my brothers had no idea what was coming, and I had to warn them. While I waited for the elevator, I pulled out my phone and called Michael.

  “You’ve stirred up a big pile of shit,” he shouted in my ear as soon as he answered the phone. I heard the hum of voices around him.

  “You saw the report?”

  “Saw it?” he barked. The background voices quieted. “Everyone came to Vincent’s bar to watch. Half the damn neighborhood saw it.”