by Judy Teel
* * *
The closest station that was equipped to handle non-humans was the one everyone called Tryon Bird. Nine years ago it had been an art museum. Since then it had been gutted and renovated to hold paranormals. Something about being built over a ley line, I'd heard. Whatever. I liked the silver bird sculpture that still stood in front of the building.
I remembered the way this part of Charlotte had looked when I was a kid, all buzzing with shops, restaurants, and upscale offices. Like the rest of the city, it had taken a beating during the 2024 attacks, and now it was where all the worst of everything lived and did business. The cops stayed busy here, and tonight was no exception.
When I walked in behind Jim, Kyle, and the stumbling vamps, three officers were on one side of the broad entrance hall trying to pin a collared teen against the wall. Two more cops had another one pushed into the corner with their guns pointed at his chest. From the shouting and name calling, it sounded like the two guys had gotten into a fight over a girl in a bar.
Their PRC indicators showed blue, which meant they were Weres. They couldn't turn with the dampening effect of the collars, but they were just as strong as any other fit, pissed off eighteen-year-old guy. Maybe a little more so, since a PRC can't neutralize hormones and Were males produced fifteen percent more testosterone than humans.
As Jim and his partner hustled their prisoners through the gap, the Weres' nostrils flared and both men zeroed in with hot, hostile glares on the vamps. The two species had a history of hating each other. It didn't help that vamps smelled something like dead skunk to Were noses, at least that's what I'd heard.
The Were boys sneered, lifting the corner of their lips back from their teeth into a snarl as their noses wrinkled up. The hostility against each other slid off and fastened onto the vamps, the tension level skyrocketing.
The cops studiously ignored each other's prisoners, staying diligently focused on their own share of the problem, but I noticed even Kyle hurried his steps a bit as we passed down the middle of the entrance hall.
Kathy stuck close beside me as we trailed behind the prisoners, her eyes wide and bright. I guess she thought I increased her chances of survival if the Weres broke loose and attacked. In a police station, my gun was useless, but I had a steel knife sheathed in my boot that was coated in oregano oil and powdered moonseed, so she wasn't far wrong.
"I'm sorry I freaked out on you," she whispered, her voice a little jumpy. "It was dumb to take the job. It's just that...I...want to go back to school and...a thousand dollars...." Her features crumpled a bit with distress, but then she seemed to get hold of herself. She straightened her shoulders and put on a brave face. "I shouldn't have done it."
My first impression of her eased off from "self-centered twit" to "desperate," and I softened towards her a little. "I get it," I said. "Money means something when you don't have any." Sadly, I had personal reasons to know that was true.
"Yeah." She released a relieved breath. "I still can't believe you're human. You moved really fast when that vamp attacked."
I shrugged. "Got lucky. He tripped just as he lunged at me."
She looked unconvinced, but let the matter drop. I was glad about that. I'd started to like her and didn't want to have to get annoyed about excessive nosiness.
We escaped the danger zone by the front door and cruised through the hodgepodge of desks cluttered with officers hunched over their computers. Finally, we reached the intake station in the far right corner of the precinct's main room. Kathy shrank back at the sight of the two vampire authorities sitting motionless in two of the chairs strung out along the wall to the left. I was glad to see that she was finally showing some common sense. These particular vamps looked high up on the food chain, which made them deadly on several more levels than the scum she'd tried to hook up with.
They reeked of wealth: Italian, custom-made suits and shoes, the flash of gold watches on their wrists, expensive haircuts, and the thick, elaborately carved gold rings on their left hands that marked them as Deacons or higher. Even without the fancy trappings, you could tell that they held high positions. The tight, arrogant expressions and cold eyes they turned on us as we stopped in front of the caramel-skinned female intake officer said it all.
The sickly pale faces of the prisoners turned whiter than the fluorescent lights above us, and I almost felt sorry for them. The Church controlled its members with an iron and unmerciful fist. Once the renegades were turned over to these High Church officials, they faced two long nights of humiliation and torture followed by a horrible death in the morning sun.
I probably should have cared. Except I didn't. I hated vamps.
There were a lot of reasons for my feelings. One was the egotistical way their guilds called themselves Churches and how their leaders were named accordingly. Another was the way they addicted the people they fed on. It wasn't politically correct to call their acolytes drug-dependent slaves, but they were, and it made me furious to think about it.
Unlike most of the human population, I saw vamps for what they were—tyrannical, dangerous thugs who were convinced they ruled the world. As long as they maintained the appearance of civility and benevolence toward everyone who wasn't dinner, vamps believed they were within their rights to do as they pleased. Those who chose to join them tended to be after only one thing: power over others.
Shifters were different. You could only be born a Were, you couldn't be turned despite all the old stories. Nature herself decreed what they were and their society reflected that fact. Like the vamps, they lived by strict codes and unbending traditions within their community, but unlike them, those customs included deep loyalty to family and pack, a love of children, and most of all, respect and appreciation for all living beings.
While I felt only disdain for vampires, I respected their capabilities. They were a powerful and deadly race, so most of the time I kept my opinions to myself. Who said I couldn't be discrete?
The vampire Deacons rose from their seats and glided toward the intake station. As they approached, the renegades shrank back. The lumberjack caught himself before he took his second step and planted his feet on the floor as he straightened his back. He looked the taller, dark-haired vamp leader in the eye and his mouth tightened.
"Lord Bellmonte," the lumberjack snarled.
"Still so arrogant, Taggert?" the vamp replied in a smooth, cool voice, and I decided he was higher up than a mere Deacon. His gaze moved to the dark-skinned vamp and his gray-blue eyes narrowed. I thought we were about to see some fang, but he kept control of himself, confining his show of displeasure to a closed-lip sneer.
"You I will enjoy seeing boil," he said, his tone as condescending and slick as his silk suit. "Tell me where Danny is, and I may award you with a quick death instead."
A fierce, reckless smile spread over the other vamp's dark face and the blonde Deacon behind Lord Bellmonte sucked in a shocked hiss from the insult. Apparently, the tall, skinny dude had no problem showing the gaps where his fangs retracted.
"Escaped," the renegade said, his voice laced with the musical accent of Jamaica. "But he will not be alone for long. Tell the Lord Father that he courts a tender recruit of nineteen and will soon have her for his blood kin."
The whites of Lord Bellmonte's eyes reddened with blood, turning his gaze demonic. Kathy did her best to hide behind me, but for once she didn't have anything to worry about. All of the vampire's fury was directed at the Jamaican.
His hands clenched into fists, and I thought he was about to tear the renegade's head off. Then the moment passed. He relaxed, a cold, frightening smile touching the corners of his mouth. "No quick deaths for you, Lewis. Something special, I think. Personally attended to by me."
Lewis looked like he was about to be sick, but he kept his chin up and didn't shake. At least not much. I realized being decapitated was exactly what he'd hoped for. No one knew what really went on behind the closed doors of the Church. What I did know was that vampires were cruel and m
erciless. Anyone with an ounce of brains avoided them. Lewis should have remembered that before he petitioned them to turn him.
Lord Bellmonte turned toward the intake officer, dripping charm and debonair sophistication as if the unpleasant internal nastiness had never occurred. The five humans who witnessed the unplanned reveal pretended we hadn't. A reason to hope for the survival of our kind. Apparently, we occasionally let our instincts trump our curiosity.
A thick, folded bundle of papers with a gold seal on it appeared in the vampire's hand. "Which officer is responsible for the apprehension of these criminals?" he asked as he handed the right-to-claim papers to the officer.
The young cop's expression was a little startled as she nodded to Jim and Kyle. Kyle started to step forward more than happy to take credit, but I was faster. My desire to stay under vampire radar was vastly outweighed by my desperate need for cash. No way was I going to be cheated out of my bounty fee.
"That would be me," I said, pushing my way to the front of the group. "Addison Kittner."
I kept my gaze steady as Lord Bellmonte's cold eyes swept over me and his nostrils flared as he got my scent. Always a creepy sensation.
"How charming." He looked at me a moment longer, obviously amused, and then his gaze slid over Lewis and the lumberjack. "The most notorious Church renegades of the last one hundred years defeated by a human woman, a child."
I felt the lumberjack tense beside me, but with the collar on him and two powerful vamp leaders just waiting for an excuse to throw him around, there wasn't much he could do about the verbal abuse. Lewis was too preoccupied with staring morosely at the floor to care.
"My lady," Lord Bellmonte said to me. "The Church is in your debt."
I sucked in a sharp breath before I could stop myself. A vampire official handing over a promise of debt was like winning the lottery, at least for most people. All it did for me was turn my stomach, but I kept down the impulse to tell "The Church" where they could stick their slimy favors.
Instead, I gave a short nod of recognition, one warrior to another, and smiled without showing teeth. It was as much of a slap down as I dared, but it still felt good to do it—even if he tore my heart out in the next instant. Lucky for me, the brazen claim that we were equals seemed to amuse him even more and a low chuckle rumbled from his chest.
"Lord Charhouse," he said to his partner without taking his gaze from me, "double this hunter's reward."
Two gold-colored, pinky-sized flash drives landed on the desk in front of the amazed intake officer. The sight of twenty thousand credit units sent a thrill through my chest that inspired a surge of self disgust. That kind of money represented over a year of steady work to me, and I badly needed it, no question. It had been nearly half a year since my last big job. I had rent due on my apartment and my scruffy little office, my fridge had nothing but a half a can of cat food left in it, and I was about to get my electricity cut off. But this was vamp money.
It was one thing to collect good, honest pay from the police department for the apprehension of two dangerous vampires. It was another to take reward money from the Church.
I guess I'd used up all my common sense, because before I could stop myself, I'd shoved the credit units toward the policewoman and wiped my hand on my thigh. "Give that to the Terrance fund, would you?"
The month before, an officer had gotten himself shot in the line of duty during a domestic dispute call. He hadn't made it, and I'd had a front row seat for the action since it had taken place in an apartment two floors below mine.
The intake officer plugged the drives into her laptop and wrote out a receipt while I resolutely refused to look at Lord Bellmonte. I already knew what I'd see on his face...unforgiving fury. Like I cared.
Every cent from one of those drives was nothing but blood money, gained from centuries of manipulating and enslaving humans. Vamp clans were ten times worse than the human crime families of the last century. Ten times worse and a hundred times less repentant.
"Jack's wife and kids will appreciate this, Addison," Jim said, his voice edged with a mixture of pride and worry. Kyle frowned at me. I guess me giving my money away didn't match up with his world view of bounty hunters.
"You still get the government payment," the policewoman said, glancing nervously at the vamps.
A fraction of what I'd been offered, but clean and honest. I took the donation receipt and the white credit unit and shoved them both into the front pocket of my jeans. I could feel the vampire's thoughtful gaze on me, and Kathy shot me a look of disbelief as I turned away.
I suddenly felt bone-tired and wanted to go home. I hoped that I'd find Wizard waiting for me on the fire escape. If I stopped at the deli on the way, I'd get to have a decent dinner, too.
The thought of a real meal cheered me up, and I headed for the street entrance. No vampire boss grabbed the back of my neck and warned me of my impending doom, so it looked like I had a good chance of putting an end to a long, tiring night.
Until I noticed the guy talking with one of the cops who'd held the Weres at gunpoint.
My heart gave an annoying stutter of recognition and an uncomfortable, clutching embarrassment gripped my stomach. I cursed under my breath.
My first and only big job was when I'd worked with him to successfully track down a human child who'd been kidnapped by a rogue Were couple. I'd just gotten my license, and I admit that it went to my head a little. After all the loose ends were tied up, he'd invited me to his department's Christmas party. The next morning I'd snuck out of his hotel room and figured we'd never cross paths again.
Now here he was; Cooper Daine—one of the FBI's top paranormal agents in the country. As in, a werewolf.
He looked about my age, though he was probably a lot older. Like a wolf's pelt, his thick hair was a rich dark brown streaked heavily with silver and going to black at the temples. His silver-green eyes were framed with long black lashes that matched the slash of his brows, and he had the sleek, muscled build of an Olympic gymnast.
He was beautiful to look at. But if anyone asked, I'd lie without a twinge of guilt and say I hadn't noticed.
With the Weres and vampires out of the closet plus the practitioner class—humans who had a natural access to magic—people's paranoia was at an all-time high. Human and paranormal hooking up was barely tolerated and usually violently opposed. Practitioners and Weres getting together was illegal under human, Were, and practitioner law and came with a death sentence.
Only a fool didn't respect my race's long history of hating mix and match sex and the way the latest cultural upheaval had added to it. Stir in our common glee over persecuting any who indulged in crossing the line, and you had the makings of a really bad day. I had enough bad days without inviting them. Like the government posters said: Safety first—Separate but Equal.
If I could have snuck by Agent Daine without being seen, I would have. Unfortunately, he stood between the exit and me. As I got close, he pulled in a sharp, quick breath and his wolf eyes zeroed in on me, brightening with recognition and a momentary touch of hunger. He instantly controlled whatever emotion had gone through him, and his white teeth flashed with a smile that sent a warm shock running down the center of my body. Nothing like a cute boy noticing you to turn a girl into a moron.
"Ms. Kittner," he said in a smooth baritone that had every female in the room looking over at him, plus a few guys.
"Agent Daine," I growled.
"Late night?"
"Infant retrieval?" I nodded toward the contrite looking Were boys. Their restraining collars had been removed and they stood behind Cooper with their proverbial tails between their legs.
"Official business brought me to town and family business brought me here." He gave the pups a stern look and said something under his breath. Without meeting his eyes, they nodded and slunk off to the row of chairs across the room. I noticed their noses scrunch as they settled as far from the seats the vamp Deacons had vacated as possible.
Sauntering over to me, Cooper glanced at the vampires who were still standing around the intake desk finishing paperwork. The United States government never interfered with the internal politics of the paranormal societies, but they demanded a lot of forms and signatures when they knew a citizen was never going to be heard from again.
Lord Bellmonte turned slightly and his eyes met mine. The cold, speculative look in them made me wish I'd kept my mouth shut earlier.
"Looks like you've been making your usual charming impression," Cooper observed. "And on the Charlotte Regent no less."
"The Rege—" I resisted the urge to close my eyes and wish I hadn't gotten up that morning. I rallied with my usual cloak of outrage. "I had a job to do and I did it," I shot back. "I'm not responsible for what arrogant paras think of me."
His gaze raked over me and heat pooled in my stomach. "Aren't you?" he murmured in a silky, low tone that just reached my hearing before melting into the background sounds of the busy precinct.
He always had liked skirting the edge of acceptable behavior. It amazed me that the FBI thought so highly of him. "Stop that." I gave him a hard look and he laughed.
"Who pissed on your ice cream?" he said, a smile still touching his sexy mouth.
"Nice seeing you, Agent Daine. Now I have important things to do." I strolled past him and shoved open the heavy precinct door. The thick June air of North Carolina hit me in the face, heavy with the stench from blocks of surrounding misery.
The center of Charlotte had once been beautiful and prosperous with banks, restaurants and tree-lined streets. After 2024 when the paranormal terrorist attacks hit, everything changed. Prosperity turned to rubble, rubble rebuilt into slums, and the festering slums broke the spirit of the town. A story repeated around the world in every city that had been destroyed.
I wished for a moment that nothing had changed, that everything was still beautiful, humans were the rulers of the planet, and murderous creatures didn't roam the night waiting to prey on them. Individuals like Cooper thought they could make a difference. People like me knew that they couldn't, but we still kept trying.
