by L. D. Rose
“I ask for your ear, Alek, for I speak from experience.” Cyrus paced, growing impatient with these negotiations. He preferred to act rather than run his mouth like the rest of them. Jacques continued to watch him for any sign of a threat, hands hovering over his weapons.
“Go on, then.” Alek folded his arms across his chest. “Explain yourself.”
“Half a decade ago, before I left the city, I captured one of your hybrids. I had him in my possession for seven months.”
“Seven months?” Alek narrowed his black eyes in both disbelief and great interest. “Which?”
“The firestarter.” Cyrus stopped pacing and faced him. “El Diablo.”
“Really? I find that hard to believe, for he is the most difficult to contain, considering his unruly trait.”
“Ah, but not so unruly, at least not then.” The strigoi had barely been aware of their new adversaries, and the mutants were young and foolish then. It had been easy to take them out and even easier to capture and experiment with them. “I made quite the discovery after one of his many . . . tribulations during his stay with me.”
“And what was this discovery?”
Cyrus reached into his inner coat pocket. At the same time, Jacques pulled his gun, aiming it right between Cyrus’s eyes. Cyrus’s soldiers immediately drew their weapons, followed by the rest of the Temhota. Every vampire had a gun pulled except for Alek and Cyrus, neither of whom needed one.
Cyrus turned the object in his hand, a vial filled with crimson liquid, leering at Jacques. In every way Alek was dark, Jacques was fair, nearly angelic if it weren’t for the black holes of his eyes. He kept the .45 Kimber aimed, jaw clenched with murder in those eyes.
Pull the trigger, Frenchman. I dare you.
Alek sighed. “Jacques, stand down, he holds nothing but a flask.”
Jacques didn’t put up his gun for a full ten seconds while the others kept their weapons trained on him.
“Jacques.” The single word was saturated with menace and the promise of death.
Glaring at Cyrus, Jacques slowly obeyed. After much hesitation, the others withdrew their weapons, but the tension thickened the air to oil.
Cyrus continued to eye Jacques with contempt. Such a small man with big shoes to fill. “You’re quite reactive, General. I admire that.” And if it weren’t for your Sire, you’d be groveling at my feet.
Jacques said nothing, keeping up the staring contest, but Cyrus broke away and focused on Alek, the bigger threat. “This is a vial of blood.” Cyrus tossed it to him. “The blood of the firestarter.”
Alek caught it and examined it, unimpressed. “And?”
“I drained the hybrid frequently and stored his blood.” Cyrus moved closer to his clan, if only to pacify them. “Upon drinking that vial, I noticed some changes. Smaller changes with smaller amounts, but far greater changes the more I consumed.”
“Changes?”
“That blood will give you the power to control fire. Take more of it, and you’ll be able to generate fire. Take even more, well, you see where this is going.”
Alek absorbed his words as he turned the vial in his hand, the dark fluid coating the glass like syrup. “Are you absolutely sure of this?”
Cyrus quickly summoned the energy, having practiced it for quite some time, heat flashing through his blood. The chi rushed into his hands, warming his cool skin and setting his nerves alight. He snapped his fingers as a burst of flame briefly lit the air, vanishing as quickly as it came.
Alek barely kept the shock off his face, but it was there, strong and true. The Temhota and their General, on the other hand, didn’t make any attempt to hide their surprise. They grunted, gasped, and gawked at Cyrus before exchanging glances with one another. Cyrus’s clan smiled in satisfaction at their leader’s effect on them all. Alek stared at Cyrus intently, as if he weren’t sure whether what he saw was real or some kind of trickery.
“Do it again.”
Cyrus repeated the gesture, eliciting the same response. His lips curved as the Sire’s jaw slackened.
“How long does it last?”
“Not long, unfortunately. Only as long as the blood is in circulation. However, if the hybrid is in your possession—”
“You have a constant supply,” Alek finished.
Cyrus nodded. “For as long as you deem fit.”
Alek glanced down at the vial before closing it in his fist, gears turning. Cyrus didn’t know much about the hybrids’ genetic make-up, but this was proof of their infective nature. Their extraordinary traits were contagious. However, not every vampire would manifest the trait, regardless of how much hybrid blood they consumed. But Cyrus chose to keep that piece of information to himself.
“Just think, Alek.” Cyrus’s voice reverberated against the walls. “The power of ice, of healing, of shapeshifting, of death . . . the power of mind. There are dozens of hybrids across the country, waiting to be tapped. No other strigoi knows of this revelation besides you and me. The Assembly—”
“Will not know,” Alek cut in as he met Cyrus’s gaze. “This information will not leave this room.”
Cyrus grinned. “And it won’t, as long as you abide by my conditions. After all, I uncovered this dirty little secret and there’s more where that”—he indicated the vial in Alek’s hand—“came from. It was my choice to involve you. Otherwise, I’ll be on my way, for there are many traits to be had and other Sires who are willing to have them.”
Alek stared at him calmly, but his obsidian eyes smoldered with anger. “State your conditions then.”
“The firestarter is mine. Do what you want with the rest of the half-breeds, but el Diablo belongs to me.”
“You must have been fond of him.”
“We have a history, he and I. We cannot forget those who affect us most.”
“No, we cannot,” Alek agreed. “He’s yours. The rest are mine, as they should be.”
Cyrus nodded, a thrill of anticipation surging through him. “We have a deal. You will allow me to hunt him first, then you may have free reign once I leave the city. No other will hear of this, not in your clan or mine.”
“Is there any chance the hybrids are aware of this?”
“No, the firestarter has no idea. They’re completely naïve.”
“Fine.” Alek straightened. “I will allow you—all of you—to hunt in my city temporarily. We will assist you if need be and you are to report to me while you’re here.” He looked pointedly at Cyrus. “Are we understood?”
Cyrus inclined his head. He’d expected compromise. “Understood.”
“No mistakes, Chimola.”
Cyrus smirked. “No mistakes. As I said, I won’t be long.”
“Good.” Alek flipped the vial in his hand. “Now I have work to do.”
Blaze popped the vampire with an uppercut, slamming his fist under the leech’s jaw. Teeth cracked beneath the blow as the vampire’s head snapped back violently.
Motherfucker.
He followed up with a fist to the solar plexus, doubling the vampire over, before he smashed the leech’s face over his knee. His strikes were precise, hard, and explosive; blows that could kill a human instantly. Instead, they only damaged the vampire, but enough so the leech bled from every facial orifice.
The vampire collapsed to the ground, but Blaze wasn’t finished yet. A live, very dangerous anger coursed through his veins, igniting each cell in his body as it sizzled its way toward the well of gasoline at the center of him.
It was a well Chimola filled all those years ago and continued to fill every single day.
There were no lights deep within the rat holes of South Bronx, where New York’s nastiest vampires prowled, second only to North Harlem. Through the thick, stifling darkness, the vampire lit up Blaze’s vision l
ike a goddamn Christmas tree, with warm human blood running through his veins. Another victim gone, another innocent lost, another life undone by a monster.
Now Blaze would show him karma at its finest.
“Get up,” he growled as the vampire pushed himself off the ground. The leech hissed like a rattlesnake, eyes taking on a feline glow. One of the vampire’s fangs had snapped cleanly in half and blood covered his mouth. But he kept on coming, because they always kept on coming.
The vampire lashed out and Blaze dodged the strike, ducking the swing and leaning back to avoid another. The leech lost his footing and tripped, his left knee blown out and hyperextended from Blaze’s initial attack. There had been three of them and this pathetic bloodsucker was the only one left. Still, Blaze hadn’t been fast enough. They’d already fed.
Too late, goddamn it.
With his blood simmering and adrenaline pumping, Blaze lifted his boot and kicked the side of the vampire’s head, sending the leech crashing onto his back. A sick, gurgling sound emitted from the vampire’s throat, signaling a broken neck. Not dead yet but not far from it.
Make him hurt. Make him hurt like they made you hurt, like they made them all hurt.
Blaze felt it yawning inside him, a black hole that led to nothing but chaos and destruction. He allowed the darkness to take the wheel and drive as he leapt on top of the vampire and pinned him to the ground beside a dumpster. The stench of garbage, blood, and violence invaded his brain as Blaze lifted his fist and struck; lifted it, struck. A dull roar started somewhere in the back of his skull, growing louder and louder until it pounded in his temples like a war drum. Rage filled him, searing through him fast and hard, consuming every bit of civility he had left.
A young woman falling on her hands and knees, eyes wide with fright.
Wild hunger tearing his insides into shreds, pushing his wretched fangs into his mouth.
Chains binding him to the floor, giving him nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no way to stop . . .
Crying, pleading, “No, please, don’t—”
I’m sorry.
“Blaze!”
A voice shouted from across what seemed like an ocean. He couldn’t move his right hand. He reared his head in the direction of the sound, baring his fangs mindlessly.
Kaj hovered over him, holding Blaze’s blood-covered fist, trying to veil his shock. Bone chips stuck in Blaze’s skin like glass, but he couldn’t feel it.
He couldn’t feel a damn thing.
“I think he’s dead, man.”
Blaze surfaced from his trance, as if he’d been dragged across that ocean and onto shore, rescued by his brother’s voice. His chest heaved as he panted harshly, like he couldn’t get enough air, like a drowning man struggling to stay alive. He couldn’t remember what had happened, but by the look on Kaj’s face and the condition of his hands, he knew exactly what he’d done.
He’d blacked out.
He hadn’t blacked out in two years, three months, and twenty-five days.
Blaze gulped against the damn blades in his mouth. He slowly stood, keeping his eyes focused on his brother as if Kaj were his lifeline—because, right now, Kaj was his only anchor to reality. Coming to his feet, nearly trembling, Blaze refused to look at what he’d done, refused to look at what had become of the vampire on the ground.
“You all right?” Kaj released him and patted his shoulder. His brother gazed at him with wariness, concern, and just a hint of horror, as if he were a bomb that could go off at any second.
“Yeah,” Blaze said, his voice cool and steady. He regarded his hands with a clinical distance, extending his fingers to ensure nothing was broken. “I’m all right.”
Kaj probably didn’t believe a word he’d said, but nodded anyway. He spared the fallen vampire a glance and his eyes pinched, as if it pained him to see it. “Let’s go. I have a trail on a nest a couple of blocks away.”
Blaze’s fangs retracted as his heart rate slowed. “Go.” He indicated the body. “I’ll catch up in a second.”
Kaj started to turn away, then stopped mid-stance, hesitating. “You sure you’re good?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” Blaze lied through his teeth. “Let me clean this up.”
Kaj nodded and headed off, moving north. Blaze turned toward the body, keeping his focus on the vampire’s legs. They rapidly dimmed from view as both human and vampire blood saturated the ground. He leaned over and grabbed the vampire’s rigid limb, summoning his chi to the surface. It came fast since it had been charged, the power already coursing through him.
And with a squeeze of his hand, the leech ignited.
Blaze let go as flames raced over clothing and quickly melted skin. As he watched the fire consume the body—much like his anger had consumed him moments before—he reached into his back pocket. He pulled out his cut-off gloves and slipped them on with some effort, seeing a layer of darkness slide over the hot glow of his palms. Blood squished beneath the leather, telling him he’d beaten his hands to a pulp.
Glad that Kaj headed against the wind, Blaze followed his trail, picking up the pace and shoving the momentary lapse in the back of his head with the rest of the filth. He couldn’t dwell on this. He would not dwell on this. He had to keep pushing forward, regardless of the implications.
I won’t go back. No way, no how.
A shout resounded somewhere in the distance, close enough that Blaze heard it through the din of his thoughts. He stilled, finding himself at an intersecting alley as his eyes sliced through the darkness. A red-orange blur flashed by at the end of the strip, running parallel to him, with four violet smears on its tail.
One human, four vampires.
Blaze lifted a finger to his ear, touching the bud of the communication link as he cut into the intersecting alley and broke into a run. “Chase in the next alley over, one red, four purple.”
“Shit,” Kaj cursed. “Get on it, I’m grabbing the ‘stang.”
Blaze picked up speed, sharpening his focus on the task at hand as he cut into the next alley. He listened for the pounding of footsteps against pavement, trailing them in his mind’s eye. He moved into the next alley, and the next, navigating through the maze of dilapidated sky rises and abandoned buildings. He took sharp turns and jumped over decaying fences, moving to the beat of a human running for his life.
Whoever it was, the normal’s endurance was impressive to have lasted this long.
Blaze withdrew his twin Glocks from his exposed shoulder holster, slides already racked and rounds chambered. He put on the brakes as he slid into the last alley, lifting the guns and facing the group now running at him. The human nearly crashed into him, stopping short of the barrels of Blaze’s nines. The guy wore a battle uniform and an empty shoulder holster.
Cop.
“Shit,” the guy yelled, ready to run back in the other direction like a fool. He raised his hands in surrender, even though his body language relayed everything but. “Jesus fucking Christ—”
“Run,” Blaze bellowed. “Now! Move it.”
The cop hesitated, as if trying to figure out whether Blaze was a normal or a leech. Blaze didn’t blame him, but there wasn’t time for a species check.
“I said now.”
Finally, the cop ran past him. Blaze waited as the four leeches came barreling at full speed, renewed with the prospect of a challenge. Realizing who and what they faced, the vampires drew their own weapons, hissing and snarling like a pack of wolves.
Blaze opened fire and the alley erupted into a war zone.
He took two leeches down instantly, their muzzles lighting them up like bullseyes. Still pumping out slugs, Blaze ran at the wall, using it as a springboard as he propelled himself toward his assailants. Silver bullets zinged past him as he flipped in mid-air, landing on his feet behind the vam
pires.
Blaze tossed his guns and attacked the leeches with an array of punches and kicks, calling on his martial arts training. The vampires had to be fledglings, since he easily disarmed and disabled them. The last few had put up a fight, but these boys were babies, senseless with hunger, beasts well beyond the realm of reason.
They would’ve torn that cop apart if they’d gotten their claws into him.
Blaze scooped his weapons off the ground as the leeches writhed and moaned, curled up and broken. He holstered the Glocks and stepped over the fallen vampires, boots crunching over broken glass and rotted newspaper. He walked six paces before he tore off his glove, turned, and lifted his hand. With his blood hot and his body temperature sky high, contained energy electrified his senses and sizzled over his skin. His chi pushed through the surface, powered by adrenaline and clawing for freedom.
And as he looked upon the bodies of his enemies, Blaze set the demon free.
The entire alley lit up as each vampire exploded like a Molotov cocktail, setting the night on fire. He didn’t stop until vertigo seized him, causing him to stumble into a nearby trash heap. Weakness overwhelmed him and he cursed, realizing he’d pushed himself too far. It was the fourth time he’d used el fuego tonight and this time had been one too many.
A hand grabbed Blaze’s arm and threw it over a pair of broad shoulders. The cop. Blaze wanted to shove him away, to tell him to get the fuck out of here, but it would be useless.
A New York cop was a New York cop.
Blaze carried himself for the most part, but having the normal to lean on helped tremendously. A Mustang rolled up at the end of the alley, screeching to a halt. Kaj jumped out of the car and bolted toward them.
