Also by Linda Mercury:
DRACULA’S SECRET
DRACULA’S DESIRES
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
DRACULA UNLEASHED
LINDA MERCURY
eKENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Dedication
AUTHOR’S NOTE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
DRACULA’S SECRET
Copyright Page
To my “offices”
Hillsboro Public Library:
You all support me in crazy, wonderful ways.
Insomnia Coffee:
Thank you for keeping this author fueled with
the best chai in the region.
Crumpaker Family Library at the
Portland Art Museum:
Debra R., thank you for being a
fantastic former coworker.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
This book would not have been written without the energy and inspiration of heavy metal. I suggest you put on Judas Priest’s British Steel album, pour a delicious beverage of your choice, and enjoy!
CHAPTER 1
June 30th
“Lucifer’s left testicle!”
A delicate snifter of the finest Juarez brandy shattered against the brand-new flat-screen television. Radu Tepes, brother of Dracula, Master of Istanbul, raged out of his green leather wing-backed chair to confront the news.
Umar Mernissi, were-hawk and now director of the Consortium for Concerned Citizens, the civil rights organization Radu had founded, looked directly into the camera, seemingly making eye contact with Radu. “In addition, Mr. Tepes, my former boss, conspired to commit murder. In his personal effects, I found an order to kill Lance Soliel, the still-missing director of the Tualatin Mountain Homeless Shelter.”
“Lies. Those are all lies.” The angry vampire gripped the edges of the TV and yelled to the man who would not stop trashing his reputation. Shards of the ruined glass and alcohol broke the bluish light into rainbows over their nattering faces.
“Fuck you, you tweeting birdie.” Radu flipped both his middle fingers at the were-hawk’s talking head. “You damn well did not find any written orders for a hit.” He jabbed his index finger at Umar’s face, dimpling the soft LCD surface. “That command was entirely verbal. I never leave a paper trail.”
Suck on that, feather-brain.
The white human male interviewer whose name Radu did not remember, spoke, “The alleged assassin, Roger Corbetti, cannot be located, Mr. Mernissi. In addition, no witnesses have been found concerning Mr. Soliel’s disappearance. How can you support your suppositions?”
Umar leaned toward the mortal and spoke as though imparting a dangerous secret. “I would not be surprised if he destroyed a rare were-tiger simply to prevent him from being apprehended. A vampire, especially one known for deceiving the world about his double-agent status in the Second World War, is more than capable of making someone they dislike simply disappear.”
“By Lucifer’s rotten teeth, I have no idea what happened to Roger.” Radu smashed his fist through the thick, ancient brick wall of his underground palace, burying the limb up to the elbow.
Bolts of pain shot up Radu’s arm. He yanked free and shook out his hand. The irritation of yet another broken wrist was nothing compared to his rage over the unfairness of the broadcast.
“And no one would believe me if I said Soliel turned into an angel. Fucking grew wings and flapped off.”
Radu paced the living room of his private chambers. In a previous incarnation, this space had been the palaestra, or exercise room, of a Roman bath. The subterranean complex he had claimed as his headquarters had been a luxurious villa in the early fourth century. Now lost beneath the old city of Istanbul, the multitudes of rooms provided shelter for the paranormal citizens he protected.
Radu’s feet made no noise as he strode back and forth on the pink and green tree-patterned silk carpet. The salesman had told him that walking barefoot on a silk rug removed as much negative energy as making love ten times.
The vampire dug his toes deep into the hand-knotted pile. He grimaced, his lips tugging away from his fangs. The rug could work its magic any minute now. He needed his calm.
He’d chipped his pinky nail, too, when he punched the wall.
Damn.
Unlike his wrist, nails didn’t heal.
Brooding, he fell into a pile of cushions and pinched his lip between his thumb and index finger.
Despite the violence done to the television, it bleated on and on. Umar, his brown eyes and dark skin highlighted by the white robes of his native Arabian peninsula, continued his dissection of Radu’s leadership.
“We must give credit to Mr. Tepes’s founding of the Consortium for Concerned Citizens and the many good works it did in the early years. The Paranormal Citizens Act will always stand as a landmark piece of legislation in the annals of human/paranormal relations.”
“Damn straight,” Radu growled back at the television set. He’d been personally responsible for getting that bill onto the floor of the United States Congress and then cajoling, campaigning, and discreetly threatening lives to ensure its passage.
He dug in the cushions and found an emery board. The slow scrape of the tool quieted his nerves as Umar hammered nails deep into the coffin of a once-shining organization.
“The former leaders of the board, Joseph Carter, Benjamin Trask, and myself, all agree. The CCC will be completely defunct by the end of this year. We cannot, in good conscience, agree to run a group that has violated all the principles of an ethical society.”
Radu thrust his hands in his pants pockets and sneered at Umar as he pandered to the human’s limited sense of morality. The humans might be the majority, but they could not, would not understand the necessity of ruthless action. His long-lived people were so much more direct with their thoughts and actions.
Why try to integrate with narrow-minded mortals? Why play by their pitiful rules? He shoved the rounded tip of the fingernail file into the disintegrating mortar between the old bricks. It was simply the age-old problem between the species.
The inherently chaotic nature of paranormal creatures clashed with the innate human drive for peace and order. Angry with the endless circling of his thoughts, he shot to his feet.
How much longer would Radu have to listen to the self-righteous, smug proclamations of his former assistant?
“What miserable beasts have I protected who let me suffer thus!” he screamed. “Will no one rid me of this turbulent man?”
Radu beat the wall again, the heat of his anger perfuming the air with the aroma of basil and pine nuts.
“Do you need assistance, sir?” a deep, velvety voice interrupted.
Radu spun on his heel, turning his back to the relentless display. Thomas and Timothy, two newly made vampires, stood in the doorway. Their black-and-white-streaked hair and matching black clothing drew attention to their alert postures.
They had been guarding his door since the afternoon
. Now glinting splinters of glass from the snifter riddled their smooth bodies. Awaiting his pleasure, they remained motionless as the glass worked its way out of their skin and pinged on the cracked marble floor.
No matter the provocation, Timothy and Thomas would not leave the post until given a direct order from their maker.
Radu’s pride at his “children” eased the grip of his volcanic rage. His sons were both stylish and handsome. Radu liked being surrounded by beauty of all kinds.
These two were the first vampires created in over seventy years. Their population had been nearly eradicated through a misguided attempt at redemption by Radu’s sibling, Dracula.
Thank Lucifer that was over with. Absently rubbing his healing wrist, Radu, the leader of all paranormal beings in Asia Minor and the Middle East, remembered his place. He plucked his linen shirt away from his sweating body. Fortunately, his red vampire perspiration had not stained the crimson garment.
“I am well, thank you.”
Timothy offered Radu a wet, cool Turkish towel. Nodding his appreciation at the boy’s foresight, the master took the blue and yellow fabric and cleaned his hands and face. He had to attend to his duties. There was no time for temper.
The board of regional governors would be here in less than an hour. He had called a meeting to address the influx of paranormal citizens into the area now that he’d successfully created a viable economy for his people.
He plucked a sliver of the broken snifter out of Timothy’s eye. In unison, the two lowered their right knees to the floor in a movement so slow and controlled, it made Radu’s over 600-year-old joints ache.
“You have served me faithfully this day. You are dismissed.” Flipping his hand in a horizontal shooing motion, Radu released his guards. His mind already on his tasks, he did not notice when they left. Or that they turned the wrong direction to return to their quarters.
The board consisted of one ancient giant bear, two snake-bodied men, three were-creatures, and a pyromaniac female elf. Dealing with all those differing personalities required all of Radu’s attention. Anger still ate at his stomach, despite the temporary calm his pretty children had caused.
Fangs above, Radu had to get out this room and run wild in the streets.
Dropping his bespoke tailored shirt and trousers on the floor, he transformed into his alternate form: a large black dog.
He had come to Istanbul less than nine months ago, escaping the exposure of his Nazi involvement and the bizarre revelation that his older brother, Vlad Dracula, had been his sister all along.
There was only so much weirdness a vampire could be expected to handle. He could have spun the story of his past, but not on top of Vlad’s, rather Valerie’s, true nature.
Radu ran until the ache in his paws overwhelmed the thoughts in his head. Finally, he planted his furry behind on an abandoned patio in the Topkapi Palace and scratched an ear. The old city of Istanbul was spread out before him like a feast.
As he sampled the rich scents of the evening air—cooking fish, diesel fumes from the tourist buses, the tang of water, and the sticky, sweet syrup of spilled pomegranate juice—his anger drained like blood down a gutter.
This was his home. He had a family of his own making. Radu admitted he was happy as the leader of the paranormal citizens. His position required no press attention, merely the ability to rule. There was no need to seek retribution for his past. He scratched behind his ear, reveling in the sheer animal pleasure of bodily comfort.
Shouts, slurs, and scuffling carried in the quiet air. Sounds that heralded the tastiest of treats. Goodies guaranteed to make any vampire’s mouth water. Namely, a group of teenaged boys loitering against a convenience store’s wall.
All that testosterone and sweat. Mmmm. Radu licked his chops. Teenaged boys. It was so hard to eat just one.
The boys’ salty delights would tempt his rowdier subjects. Radu’s first duty was to keep the peace treaty that existed between paranormals and mortals.
The Treaty of Prague, passed in the late 1960s, stated that if his kind did not eat the humans, then humans would not hunt his kind to extinction.
He leaped to his four feet and shook out his fur. Not even the best potato chips were worth a renewal of the species riots of the 1990s. Controlling his appetite, Radu’s dog form chased them off.
The lights of the shipping tankers and pleasure crafts lit up the famous Bosporus strait. Radu grinned at the beauty around him. It would be a good day, even with Umar Mernissi roaming about, babbling nonsense.
Unfortunately, not even an ancient vampire’s keen nose could sense that Thomas and Timothy sailed those waters, determined to enforce the careless words that called for Umar’s extermination.
Out of such small slips great pain grew.
CHAPTER 2
At three o’clock in the morning, the doorways of the Old Town neighborhood of Portland, Oregon, were as dark as an open mouth. The buildings with their Old West–style false fronts loomed over the narrow street, an urban mountain pass with sheer cliff walls that hid a myriad of hiding places. Every corner held the promise of violence.
Chad Trask, former leader of the area’s largest gang of idle rich kids, stiffened as a trickle of icy sensation moved along his hairline.
The ten young did not walk unobserved. Hungry creatures hid in those shadows.
The blood in his veins pumped hot and fast. His breath sped up. The tiny prickle grew into the unshakeable knowledge that they were being tracked. After the events of last Halloween, he knew more than the average human about being hunted.
His friends were walking into a trap. Just as the smooth sides of the pitcher plant enticed flies into the digestive soup at the bottom, the silence and seeming quietness lured them into deadly carelessness.
He interjected a warning. “Guys, we have to go.”
“Shut up, Trask.”
Andrew, Chad’s former second, didn’t even glance at the low man on the totem pole. His attention was solely on the yellow and black giant snake that was wrapped around the bronze center column of the Skidmore Fountain. The serpent’s body was thicker than Chad’s torso. Its blunt, triangular head was longer than a barstool.
The snake’s pink and black tongue lapped at the water in the top basin, its green slit-pupiled eyes watching Andrew. Its body slithered around the main bowl of water, coiling and uncoiling as though it knew what the group planned.
“Let’s show what we think of demon freaks in our town.” Andrew giggled. He rolled forward on his toes, sadistic anticipation clear in the tight line of his body.
Chad turned up the collar of his jacket, disgusted with himself, but unable to stop the inevitable progression from taunting to throwing garbage to greater violence. Even when Andrew lit a cigarette.
“Hold it down, boys,” the former second ordered. “Let’s light this bastard up.”
The group hesitated at the command. Killing a paranormal creature was against international law. That meant war.
A real war.
“No body, no crime,” he reminded them. “Do it. What’s one more dead demon?”
Chad’s stomach twisted. Bile flooded his mouth. He couldn’t do this. He knew fear and pain from his encounters last winter. He would not visit it upon another being.
As the other boys closed in, the snake hissed. Chad swore he heard words.
“Did it just call us potato chips?” Andrew’s eyebrows rose in indignation.
Derisive laughter echoed through the tension.
“Evet. Patates cipsi.”
As one, the gang whirled to face the speakers.
Two men dressed in identical shiny black clothing stood in the middle of the street. Each had a highly unnatural white stripe starting at their left temple and sweeping to the back of their heads. Heavy gel ensured that not a hair strayed out of their carefully arranged coiffures. They were dressed head to toe in black PVC, buckles, and chains. Long, white fangs glittered in their smiles.
The men l
ooked like skunks auditioning for a slick futuristic movie. The gang tittered. They jiggled from foot to foot. Andrew ran a finger under the collar of his T-shirt.
Now they remembered meeting a vampire before.
Chad’s ass tightened. He knew what kind of people moved as silently as hunting tigers and possessed those white, white teeth.
They looked like predators who had gone hungry for a very long time.
The one on the left murmured something to the other. Both laughed out loud. The one on the right licked his lips and cracked his knuckles.
“Outta the way, freaks,” Andrew demanded, working a pair of brass knuckles onto his right hand.
Chad had no idea what the two vampires were saying, but the way they looked at his friends’ necks was all too familiar. He shoved his way toward the front of his former friends.
“We really don’t want to do this,” Chad murmured in Andrew’s ear.
“Shut up, Trask.” The words were accompanied by a casual elbow to the kidneys.
Chad skittered away, his breath catching from the pain. Once he was safely behind the rest of his now-endangered friends, he hung his head and pinched the fold of skin between his eyebrows. He belonged to quite possibly the stupidest bunch of people in the world.
Too bad none of his crew had learned a damn thing from their first experience with a vampire last November. Was it possible they had forgotten about the dark woman who had schooled them in manners with a few choice words and supernatural strength?
“Did you hear me, you weirdos? Hand over your wallets and you don’t get hurt.”
Ever since his problems of last winter, Chad had haunted the library in search of information. Humans had a very low chance of surviving a vampire attack. Knowing himself to be a coward, he shuffled toward an alley.
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