Blood of Angels (Book 2 of the Blood Hunters Series)

by Marie Treanor

  Blood of Angels

  Blood Hunters, Book 2

  A sequel to the Awakened by Blood trilogy

  Marie Treanor

  BLOOD OF ANGELS

  All Rights Reserved © 2013 by Marie Treanor

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form

  or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including

  photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without

  the written permission of the publisher.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Prologue

  Eighteen months ago…

  István caught the vampiress Angyalka by luck. If she’d noticed him, he’d never have been able to jump her in time, slam her back hard against his body, and shove the discreetly palmed wooden stake over her heart.

  Now, if she made any move to escape, she’d impale herself on the lethally sharpened stick and disintegrate. It was a classic move, perfectly executed. But it gave him no satisfaction since their quarry, the Ancient vampire Saloman, had just soared through the skylight in the glass-domed ceiling of the vampires’ nightclub, taking Elizabeth, the hunters’ bait, with him.

  Fear, anger, and guilt would all have to wait. István’s immediate goal was to prevent the fiasco turning into a bloodbath. His team leader, Konrad, openly brandished a wooden stake, an understandable act of aggression which had brought Angyalka flying over the bar in the first place. Now, the backward surge of humans and the forward surge of vampires halted abruptly as everyone stared up to the skylight through which Saloman and Elizabeth had vanished.

  There was even an instant when, from pure surprise, the vampiress held herself motionless as she took in her own position, clamped between István’s legs, pinioned by his arms. She couldn’t go forward onto the stake, so she strained back into him.

  He followed with the stake, piercing her skin. He felt the wetness of blood under his palm, between her firm, soft breasts.

  She was strong. But she wasn’t stupid. She stilled once more and then unhurriedly tilted her face up to look at him.

  Her beauty crashed into him, a blow of raw, powerful lust. Short, stylish black hair framed piquant, almost elfin features that seemed oddly familiar. Fine, straight black brows sloped upwards like a devil’s over mocking, mysterious blue eyes so dark they looked navy. She had delicate, hollowed cheekbones, a short, straight nose, and a full, sensual mouth that just cried out to a man to crush it under his—if he was brave enough.

  Big, jet earrings dangled from her pale shell-like ears. One caught against the creamy whiteness of her cheek as she twisted to gaze up at him. She wore a short little black silk dress with full-length, black leather boots. Long, slender legs, slim, elegant body, tiny waist, shapely breasts, and an alabaster, swanlike neck.

  She looked like the angel carving over the club’s front door.

  Her thick lashes drooped and rose again. The other vampires, interestingly, didn’t move. Perhaps they understood Angyalka’s danger. Perhaps she told them telepathically to be still. Her strange, dark blue eyes held his while, deceptively casual, she recited the club rules: “No fighting, no biting.”

  Even through the relentless beat of the surrounding music, her voice wrapped around his loins like velvet, soft, dark, and seductive as sin. And it carried to the other vampires, who made no further move toward the hunters. Konrad and Mihaela, realizing they wouldn’t have to fight their way out after all, began to run for the exit in pursuit of Elizabeth and Saloman.

  Deliberately, Angyalka pushed her firm bottom back into István’s hips. “What about you, hunter? Are you leaving too?” She smiled, rocking subtly against the erection he couldn’t hide. “Or are you staying to dance?”

  The terrifying thing was, even with Elizabeth at the mercy of the monster they’d come to kill, he was tempted. And seeing it, she began to sway to the music, playing havoc with the lust already raging through his body.

  He was far too old a hand to fall for this trick.

  He stepped back. But like lightening, as soon as her hand could move, it flew up to cover his on the stake between her breasts. Electricity zinged through his fingers. He knew an urge to drop the stake and just palm her breast instead. As if she knew it, her siren smile broadened. Without warning, she spun to face him, revealing her fangs and all the very real danger that lurked below the pretended seduction of her eyes.

  He’d held her immobile in front of her people. He’d humiliated her in her own bar, and she wouldn’t forget it. But he’d no time to barter words with a vampire, not even this one. He had to find and save the woman he loved, who would never ever love him.

  “No dance, then,” she hissed. “Next time, it will be different.”

  He didn’t doubt that. Acknowledging it, he gave her a lopsided smile as he backed away to the door. Then he turned and ran from the club to begin the futile search for Elizabeth.

  Chapter One

  “So this is Budapest.” The vampire Basilio leaned his back against the side of the chain bridge spanning the River Danube and gazed beyond the passing traffic to the city spread out on either side.

  Jacob looked too, although with less interest. He was sure the castle and the steep hills behind were very picturesque, and the large, grand buildings on the opposite bank extremely fine. But Jacob’s undead soul didn’t do beauty. He did humans and, more importantly, money. He reckoned there was plenty of both in this city.

  The third and youngest member of their traveling party, Gabby, who’d been dead for only about ten years, regarded her maker, Basilio, with irritating adoration. “You mean you’ve never been here before?”

  Basilio was an old vampire, like around five hundred years old. One tended to assume the supercilious old bastard must have been everywhere in that length of time, but apparently not.

  “I’ve never left the Americas before,” Basilio said casually. Although his speech still bore traces of his Mexican origins, his English had been perfected over many long visits to the United States and Canada. He transferred his gaze from the castle to Jacob. “This had better be worth it.”

  “It’ll be easy,” Jacob assured him. “We don’t even need to see Saloman himself to find a way of forcing his hand. We just need to find out from others what his weaknesses are. You can read anyone’s head; I can con anyone. She”—he jerked his head at Gabby—“can seduce anyone. Together we’re invincible.”

  Basilio curled his superior upper lip. “Actually, I’m invincible alone.”

  “So how come Travis rules in North America and acknowledges Saloman as his overlord?”

  “Because Travis is beneath me, and I have not yet encountered Saloman.”

  Sure, Jacob thought derisively—and unwisely, since it wasn’t easy to hide such spontaneous if silent comebacks from Basilio.

  The old vampire fixed him with a chilling, mud-colored eye. “I don’t like you, Jacob. Don’t make me give in to that.”

  Jacob threw up his hands
and began to walk over the bridge in the direction of the strongest blood scent. “Whatever.”

  Behind him, Gabby said throatily, “Hello, stranger. Where can I go to dance?”

  Gabby, little more than a fledgling, was eternally hungry and had clearly targeted her first prey of the evening already. Jacob glanced back over his shoulder. The two young men Gabby had accosted were exchanging bemused glances, answering in their own outlandish tongue.

  “Hey, they don’t even speak English!” Gabby complained to Basilio.

  Basilio sighed. “They’re not obliged to in Hungary. Just pick the one you want and I’ll have the other.”

  “What about me?” Jacob asked indignantly.

  Neither answered him. Gabby wound her arms round the neck of one startled if rather excited-looking young man and sank her teeth into his throat. His friend, obviously picking up that something was wrong, said sharply, “Hey!” —clearly the same in any language—and reached out to separate them.

  It was the last thing he ever did. In a blur, Basilio grabbed him, drained him, and dropped him contemptuously on the pavement before striding after Jacob. Gabby slurped more slowly at her own meal, writhing sensuously against her captive as she killed him.

  Jacob glanced with distaste at the first dead man. To keep a low profile, they really shouldn’t kill their supper. Perhaps it was meant as a calling card for Saloman. Whatever, Basilio always made such a mess of people.

  ****

  Two children whizzed past, shouting with laughter. One of them was Robbie, Mihaela’s adopted son. They seemed to be playing some boisterous hybrid of tag and hide-and-seek among the adult guests, adding to Mihaela’s liberating sense of unreality.

  It was a bizarre housewarming party. Part of her still couldn’t quite believe she was hosting it, and no one knew better than she that it could all go horribly wrong. However, she’d recently stunned her colleagues in the hunter organization by buying this wonderful old house in Budapest’s castle district, renovating it, and living in it not only with Robbie but with the vampire Maximilian, who had somehow become her lover. And Robbie’s adoptive father. The least she could do was invite them all over to look. And in fact, it was fun to watch them playing “spot the vampire.” For Maximilian’s acquaintances were just as curious as hers and had arrived in unexpected numbers—although Maximilian had welcomed most of them with no more than a curl of his lip.

  The neighbors and her other “civilian” friends, of course, had no idea what was walking among them. But Mihaela believed the presence of Maximilian, and of the vampire overlord, Saloman himself, would keep the undead in line. If not—well, she wasn’t yet too pissed to stake a few of them. And there were at least four other hunters present.

  Mihaela opened the front door to greet her divorced neighbor, Andrea, and Lara, Andrea’s fun-loving friend.

  “Wow! Your party’s jumping!” Andrea approved, hugging her and dropping a bottle into her hands.

  Mihaela laughed. “What, before your arrival? How can this be?”

  “Sarcasm ill becomes a hostess.” Andrea grinned. “Now, I confess Lara and I have had a few already, so steer me away from the married men.” She paused, and her beautifully made-up eyes began to gleam. “Tell me that one isn’t spoken for. But of course, he’s bound to be…”

  Hoping her neighbor hadn’t fixed her hopes on a vampire, Mihaela turned to follow her gaze. To her secret delight, her friend and fellow hunter, István, stood with his shoulder against the side of the staircase. His dark eyes were watchful as they always were, yet something in their fixed, unblinking gaze was almost predatory, as if his long recovery had made him hungry for more than Mihaela’s home baking. Dressed in light chinos, open-collared black shirt, and a smart-but-casual jacket, he looked both elegant and handsome, with no trace of the terrible injuries that had almost killed him six months ago.

  Although his lips twitched in response to Andrea’s inviting smile, he made no move toward the group at the front door. Mihaela had the odd impression he was waiting for someone. But perhaps he was just keeping track of the vampire Dmitriu, who sat on the stairs only a few feet above his head, with two human girls draped around his neck.

  “Not married,” Mihaela reported. “Nor spoken for—to my knowledge.” She could be wrong. István rarely discussed his personal life, although, being a hunter, he was unlikely to have much of that.

  Andrea shook out her bracelets, as if metaphorically rolling up her sleeves. “Introduce me,” she commanded.

  Obligingly, Mihaela took her arm, but they hadn’t gone more than a pace before Andrea’s friend Lara suddenly stopped them in their tracks. “No, wait,” she said urgently. “I know that guy.”

  Mihaela blinked at her. “You do?”

  “István,” Lara said slowly. “István Királyi. He’s bad news, Andrea—stay away from him.”

  Mihaela narrowed her eyes. “He is not,” she said dangerously, “bad news.”

  Lara looked away, smoothing out her pretty top in a flustered kind of way before she again met Mihaela’s challenging gaze with what seemed to be very conscious bravery. “Sorry if he’s a friend of yours, Mihaela, but I was at school with him, and ‘tearaway’ just doesn’t cover it.”

  “School?” Andrea scoffed. “Lots of us were tearaways at school. And look at me, a mature, respectable member of the community!”

  “Yes, well, he isn’t,” Lara said bluntly. “I heard he got worse after school. A friend of mine saw him stabbing someone in a back alley only a few years ago and reported it to the police, but István’s obviously got friends in high places, if you know what I mean, because nothing ever came of it.”

  Damn. Lara was probably right. István was no doubt seen killing a vampire, but even with a name and a witness, the police wouldn’t have pursued him. Without a body, the investigation would have been squashed by the hunter network. Friends didn’t get much higher than that.

  “Hearsay,” Mihaela retorted. “István is not a thug.”

  “With respect, Mihaela, you don’t know that,” Lara said tightly. “I think he’s into organized crime. You should keep your distance from him. And so should you, Andrea.”

  “He has got rather dangerous eyes,” Andrea observed doubtfully.

  Mihaela blinked. István? Dangerous eyes?

  Well, perhaps he had. She and István fought on the same side; to her, he was a completely trustworthy and reliable ally as well as an understanding friend. But if she thought about it, he was also totally ruthless. Like her. A hunter had to be to survive, and, like her, István had survived a lot.

  He was, probably, her most trusted friend. And yet seeing him through her guests’ eyes made him suddenly a stranger. She really didn’t know anything about him at all.

  As if bored by their overt and covert scrutiny, István eased his shoulder off the wall and strolled in their direction.

  “Oh fuck,” said Lara. Andrea’s breath caught, and her tension zinged through to Mihaela. But István merely turned into the living room, from where strains of Bob Dylan drifted out to the hallway, and kept walking away from them.

  Andrea hissed, “Look at the way he walks, so deliberate and controlled…” Her gaze appeared to be on István’s retreating bum. Out of sight of his “dangerous eyes,” she quickly reverted to type. “Maybe he’d make an uncomfortable companion on a dark night,” she allowed, licking her lips, “but I’ll bet you anything he’s a fantastic lover.”

  ****

  István couldn’t deny these were fascinating times.

  A vampire with a bottle of beer in one hand watched him malevolently from the opposite corner of the living room, spotting him as a hunter. István picked up his own previously abandoned bottle and raised it casually to the vampire before he drank. No harm in letting him know he was spotted too.

  Damn, how many people had Mihaela invited to this affair? He hadn’t expected there to be so many vampires here, and yet the one he’d been so sure of seeing was maddeningly, elusivel
y absent.

  Once Mihaela had ushered her latest guests in the direction of the kitchen, he moved restlessly back into the hall. One of those women watching him had looked vaguely familiar. Someone from school, perhaps, though no one he’d known well. Lara something, he thought suddenly. Studious girl, much too straight and disapproving to appeal to his teenage self. Come to that, she still looked bloody disapproving, although what he’d done to offend her by standing in Mihaela’s hallway was lost on him. Her friend was pretty enough, though, and he hadn’t missed her unmistakable interest.

  Sexual desire stirred. It had been a long time, and he wanted a woman. He wanted to lose himself quite urgently in hot, meaningless sex, and he wouldn’t be averse to pursuing the woman with the bracelets. She had graceful wrists and long, slender legs encased in tight-fitting jeans… Maybe later. After he’d found her.

  And eased his bloody, aching legs and back. All this restless pacing and standing around wasn’t good for them, and the knowledge annoyed him.

  Some of the kids, including Mihaela’s Robbie, were bolting upstairs, calling to others already up there, as they climbed over the vampire Dmitriu, who still sat there with the same two human girls nuzzling his neck. No wonder his eyes gleamed. Dmitriu caught István’s gaze, shrugged, and stretched his pale lips into a lopsided smile.

  “The times, they are a-changing,” sang Bob Dylan from the front room.

  “No kidding,” Konrad murmured in István’s ear. He nodded with distaste at the scene on the stairs. “Are we really meant to be okay with that? To just walk away?”

  István, who believed Dmitriu was too polite to drink from Mihaela’s human guests, at least while they were in her house, merely nodded and turned to distract his team leader. Since Konrad was still sensitive enough to see that István needed to sit down, he walked beside him without complaint until they sank onto the vacant sofa in the living room. One of Mihaela’s younger neighbors had just put himself in charge of music and was removing Bob Dylan from the CD player in favor of something livelier.