by Marie Hall
But of course it’s never what you expect. Vampires aren’t immortal, they drink blood but their canines aren’t much longer than a house cats. More often than not you’ll see a vamp feeding with a syringe or razor. They live long lives compared to mortals. Two, three hundred years, but they age. Slower than normal, but still age nonetheless. They’re strong, but nothing like us.
In short vamps have everything to fear from us and we have very little to fear from them. Which is why they usually make themselves scarce when we’re around.
I looked at Luc. He was bent at the waist, elbows resting on his knees looking out at nothing.
“Don’t you think that’s weird?” I finally said. “That makes vamp number three in less than a month?”
He rubbed his jaw, sighed and sat back, pierced me with one of his frosty stares. I had to admit it was good to have edgy Luc back, moody guy weirded me out for reasons I couldn’t quite fathom.
“Yeah, but they were all young. Kids with too much balls and little bite. Coincidence?”
I didn’t believe that and neither did he. Coincidences got you killed. My weird-dar said vamps and now priest were somehow connected. Don’t press me to try and explain why, I couldn’t if I tried. It was a hunch. Nothing more.
I growled, the synapses’ in my brain unable to find the connection between A and Z.
“What we need is to talk with Grace.”
I cocked my head. “Hasn’t she contacted you yet? We’ve been here two days already.”
Luc threw his hands up, stood and stretched. “Not yet. Second she does I’ll let you know.”
He was halfway out the bedroom when I asked, “By the way, did you see anyone else out there?”
The feral gleam was back in his eyes the minute I mentioned it. “No, but if I find him, I’ll kill him.”
Then he was gone, scent of sulfur the only proof he’d ever been. He was pissed, moody, and frankly, I didn’t know how to deal with that. No doubt however that he was out there somewhere close, watching, maybe hoping Billy would return.
I hated to admit it, so was I.
For entirely different reasons.
Chapter 5
I shoved my hands into my pockets, watching the crowd through slitted eyes. A northerly wind had blown in, it was brutally cold tonight, but that didn’t seem to stop anyone. The carnival was in full swing, a macabre repeat of last night.
On auto pilot, I watched rider after rider get on the big wheel, repeating the same old lines over and over. Be careful, don’t stick your hand out the sides, don’t swing the basket...blah, blah, blah.
Part of me kept hoping I’d catch a glimpse of Billy. Another part, was hoping he’d stay away. Permanently. Why was I so obsessed with him?
After a sleepless night I’d come to one absolute conclusion. Billy had to die. He couldn’t be allowed to walk around, not while he knew where we were. How to find us. That was too dangerous. Not just for me, but my entire family.
Even so, I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else taking his life. I would have to be the one to do it.
I huffed. How crappy was it that I’d finally found someone who intrigued me beyond sanity, only to realize I couldn’t keep him?
Sometimes my life really sucked.
Billy was bad news gift wrapped in a gorgeous package. Last night he’d held a knife to my throat. That was proof enough that the big bad wolf wasn’t out there buying me roses and chocolate. More likely he was loading down that chiseled frame of his with all sorts of weapons meant to make a girl like me squeal.
I leaned against the fence, crossed my booted feet at the ankles and yes, sulked. Lust and I were in a foul mood. If the outside reflected the inside, then I was wearing a big fat sign that read: beware the dog. Last night I’d been all frills and sex, tonight I was in leather.
I wasn’t on the hunt. Lust had charged the juice last night with Luc and the vamp, and yet, it hadn’t been enough. Not nearly. She’d tagged Billy, whether the man wanted me or not didn’t matter to her. It was almost pathetic the way she wanted him.
I was keeping Lust’s more violent tendencies in check, but just barely.
“Hey, baby.”
I looked up.
A kid, no older than seventeen, staggered up next to me. Alcohol strong on his breath, blue eyes glassy and riddled with bloodshot veins. He gave me a drunken leer, taking his time rolling his gaze up and down my body.
“You’re looking pretty fine tonight.” He hiccupped and chuckled, one of those laughs only the severely drunk find funny. I lifted a brow, my fingers clenched convulsively at my side. “I got a sweet room in the mountains, real private like.” He smiled, touched my necklace and let it slide between his fingers.
Anger foamed in my belly, spewed up my throat. I narrowed my eyes. “What are you thinking, Junior?” My voice was soft, but cold. He was too drunk to notice. If he touched me one more time I claimed no responsibility for my actions.
“Wanna take a ride on the Wayne train?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made me think of a Jim Henson puppet. “Promise you’ll love it.” He leaned in, his nose inches from my neck. Not quite touching, but almost there.
I bared my teeth, revealing the baby fangs I normally kept hidden. They weren’t as sharp or as long as Luc’s, but they could be disconcerting.
The rancid smell of STD was all over him. It spikes the sweat sliding out the pores with a musty, rotted scent. Ridden by Lust, I’d screwed a sick stick before, but it was gross. I couldn’t get diseases, but if you’ve ever seen something like that, then you know what I mean.
“How could I possibly resist when you ask me like that?” I sneered.
He chuckled, so flippin' sure of himself.
“But oh, what a pity, I have laundry to do tonight. Too bad.” I cocked my hip and gave him what I thought was a clear vibe to shove off.
Wayne train had the nerve to grab me by said hips and push me further into the fence. He ground his erection against me, his hand trailing down my arm. “I always get what I want.” His fetid breath smacked me in the face.
Do you ever have those moments when you’re so angry that you grow calm? Like the bands of a hurricane are swirling inside your body but you’re the eye? You’re danger incarnate, but you don’t look it?
I smiled, shimmied my hands up his arms and pressed my breasts tight to his chest. “Ohh, when you put it like that—”
His eyes zipped to the tops of my flattened breasts.
I grabbed his face in a punishing grip. He squirmed, but was still too piss poor drunk to realize how much danger he was in. Almost made me feel sorry for the little maggot. Almost.
I kissed him, mashing my mouth to his in such a way that it forced him to open up or be bruised. He whimpered and I felt a rising thrum of fear override his senses.
I sucked his tongue into my mouth, his hands moved frantically all over my body, but not to draw me closer. He was trying to push me away.
Lust laughed.
Tongues are such a soft, delicate piece of tissue. So many nerve endings. Teased the right way tonguing can be a delicious experience.
I bit him, my fangs slicing deep.
He screamed, but the night was a cacophonous spill of noises. No one heard him. If I wanted to, I could kill him. I squeezed his arm, to the point right before a break. He moaned, and it reeked of the greasy, slimy stench of fear. If I kept it up he’d piss himself.
Pathetic human, Lust snarled.
Lucky for him, I had no intention of killing this night. I shoved him away, hard enough that he nearly tripped over his feet.
I licked my lips, tasting his blood on them and spit. It’s not that I mind blood—most demons enjoy the taste of it on occasion—but when it’s riddled with disease it’s a little like trying to drink expired milk.
His eyes were wide, frantic. As if my kissing him had burned the alcohol right out of his system, he was hyper aware and holding on to his mouth like he feared it might fall off. Blood trick
led down the sides of his chin.
Poor thing, he was in a load of proverbial poo now. Blood was a very bad accessory to be wearing in a place like this. Made all the baddies shiver and shake.
Wayne train turned and ran.
“Hey!” I cupped my mouth, “Where you going, baby? Thought you liked it rough.”
He didn’t turn back and I laughed, really laughed. Of course Lust was acting petulant and demanding I go and finish him off. But I was sure Jr. had learned his lesson. No need for added violence. So I ignored her.
My neck prickled, tightened. Like someone’s hot gaze was boring a hole in my head. I turned and studied the blackness beyond my ride. The trees were thick with shadows, and danced with the wind.
I rubbed the back of my neck, patting the fine hairs down. I could see nothing, but I felt it. It wasn’t a feeling of danger, but it wasn’t exactly comforting either.
Frowning, I walked to the game booth nearest me.
The stall was empty. Kemen’s booth wasn’t one of the more active tents. Luc had set him up with the water-balloon game. But that wasn’t what kept the booth almost perpetually empty; it was the fact that there were no prizes to be had for the winner.
Might seem like a crazy thing to do, but the truth was, we weren’t concerned with making money. Each member of this family had to contribute. For most it was a cakewalk. Bubba loved his time at the platform, Luc loved whatever it was that Luc did, us girls...well we just loved being the center of attention.
Kemen was different. His demon was sloth. In layman terms that meant he was lazy as hell and couldn’t be trusted with running an active booth. If he wasn’t sleeping, he was playing video games. On the one hand I envied the ease of that demon, on the other, I couldn’t imagine always being so tired I could barely bring myself to shave, let alone shower each day.
He was a Captain Sparrow type with greasy hair and clothes that looked wrinkled, faded, and unwashed for who knows how long, but still very bangable. Or maybe that was just me.
Kemen sat on a chair resting on its hind legs, hands clasped in his lap, chin on his chest, eyes closed and snoring louder than an electric band saw. I kicked his feet, knocking the chair down, making him jump and grab his chest. I grinned. He narrowed amber eyes, shoveling blunt fingers through his cropped brown hair.
“Pandora,” he growled, “you scared the crap out of me.”
Hair jutted out in odd angles around his head. He yawned, stretching arms high above his head and then groaned.
Gaw, just watching him was making me tired, probably why the humans tended to avoid his booth like the plague. I loved Kemen, but the man was a real downer.
“You awake now, Rip Van Winkle, or do I need to go get a bucket of ice water and dump it on you?”
He smacked his lips. “Funny.”
“Listen, spell me will ya? I gotta take a walk.”
He stood, gave another long lion’s roar of a yawn and shook himself, as if he was trying to wake up, then nodded.
I eyed him. “Or do you think you’re awake enough to handle it? Hate to come back and find the humans dead because you passed out and pressed the wrong button.”
“I swear you nettle me on purpose. You a wise ass like this with everyone else?”
“Just you, baby.” I winked.
“Don’t know why I put up with you.”
“‘Cause you love me.” I batted my lashes at him and gave him my best cheeky smirk.
He snorted, then walked off muttering under his breath.
I laughed. Of all of us, Kemen was the sweetest. Sloth was lazy, not dangerous. He could kill, he was still part demon after all, but he’d take sleep over death any day of the week.
I was getting ready to head back into the woods when I was again overcome by the feeling that I was being watched.
I looked and this time...I saw something.
Chapter 6
I narrowed my eyes knowing the shadow that danced outside the shelter of light wasn’t shadow at all. The familiar shiver of paras pulsed across my skin like static. The lump of darkness separated into three distinct shapes.
One moved forward, the others to the sides. Like a lion on the hunt they circled their unsuspecting prey.
The ebb and flow of life and death is as natural to me as breathing. Balance and counterbalance. And yet, there are two types of death. One that is preordained, set in ink and nothing and no one can change it. It is meant to be and it will happen, it doesn’t matter how many scenarios you run through they all lead to the same end result.
Then there’s the unnatural kind. Murder. Death before its time. Those you can change. This was one of those times.
The prey was a woman in her early twenties; not pretty, not ugly either. Average. Dispensable. Someone easily overlooked until it was too late. Mussed up brown hair, library chic glasses, gray sweater, a typical college student on the cusp of making a mark in the world.
Like a ripple of water moving in reverse the circle tightened. The shadows almost within arm’s reach.
She looked up, eyes wide, glancing around and nostrils flaring as if she could smell the danger, she huddled a little closer to the safety of people in front of her. She didn’t talk to them, so I knew she wasn’t part of that group. But there was strength in numbers and somewhere deep down she sensed the threat.
It always fascinated me how much like animals humans became when you stripped away the thin veneer of civility to expose their baser elements.
Her baggy, carefree style of dress said she wasn’t vain. The grayish pallor to her skin said she was more often indoors than out, likely studying as the bags under her eyes attested to. She fidgeted a lot; she wasn’t comfortable in crowds, which meant her friends had probably dragged her out here.
She had no darkness, she was light. Light doesn’t mean someone’s infallible, perfect, all that’s wholesome. I mean, whatever, that’s about as delusional as believing that once you get married he’ll change. Dream on.
What it does mean is that eight out of ten times light will choose good over wrong. Helping over hurting. We are not to harm light; she isn’t ours for the taking. The shadows knew that.
She cocked her head, staring out into the darkness as if searching for that mysterious presence. I doubt she had a clue how close the shadows were, they’d stopped moving and were crouched low, hidden to all but those who knew where to look.
She shook her head and laughed with one of those don’t-be-ridiculous-there’s-nothing-out-there sounds.
Don’t move. I wanted to scream it at her, but it was too late. She stepped away from the group and the shadows snapped her up. No one noticed, or if they did, they thought it was some crazy prank. The shadows loped off into the veil of darkness beyond.
I had one of two choices. Follow, or stay.
I growled. “Stupid conscious.” There was no choice.
I ran at a somewhat fast pace. Enough to keep the shadowed shapes in view, but slow enough to not draw attention to myself. Expecting to bump into Billy at some point tonight I was a veritable weapons cache. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe he was through with me. Priests are like bloodhounds; once they’ve got your scent, the pursuit is relentless.
His behavior was unusual, not only leaving me the way he did, but not showing up tonight, all of which made him unpredictable and more dangerous. I’d have to keep alert. Last night Billy had gotten the jump on me, but I was no damsel in distress. I wouldn’t make that same mistake twice.
Why then am I running after a pack of baddies, alone and in the middle of the night, doesn’t that scream TSTL? Have you ever lived to be five-thousand years old? Do you have any clue how long that actually is? I’m not saying I want to die, but I don’t fear death either. If it happens it happens, I’m not gonna stop living because a death priest thinks I should. Screw him and anybody else who feels that way. I was created; therefore I’m entitled to live it. That’s all I have to say about that.
I passed the Tilt-a-Whirl, glancing
at the ride, hoping to spot Vyxyn, but she wasn’t there.
The shadows were getting away from me. Separating. One moving straight, the other to the left, the last to the right. I had no idea who had the girl.
I really hated when killers got smart. So annoying.
It was a one in three chance; I followed door number three and veered to my right, keeping tucked within the safety of the trees.
Shadow was passing furtive glances over its shoulder. I still couldn’t make out what type of parasite this was, it was clothed in a long midnight blue robe-cowl combo. If I had to make a guess: vamp. Seemed like the type of thing the stylistic pompous idiots would get a kick out of.
And if it was vamp, then this was worrying. Why were they getting so bold?
I didn’t dematerialize to follow, the sulfuric smell would have been a dead giveaway and stealth was key. I hugged the trees, moving only when he did, slipping between branches with the swift grace of a wraith on the hunt.
The night was still, cold, as if the world held its collective breath.
Shadow paused, glanced around and then began a nonsensical path of distraction. Going left, right, in circles, turning around and backtracking, doing it so many times even I began to feel disoriented. This same pattern followed for at least a mile or two.
What in the world?
I know what it was doing. Creating a false trail, that way if anyone came to investigate they’d see a bunch of shambling, aimless prints and nothing more. Since when had the vamps gotten this organized?
Believe it or not, they’re generally loners. You don’t typically find one with another. So to see them working, moving as one, and hunting together is troubling.
I narrowed my eyes; two other shapes joined my shadow, presumably the same ones from before. I didn’t see the girl.
That couldn’t be good.
They walked a bit further then stepped into a clearing with a large bonfire. Orange and yellow flames licked at the night. The wood crackled, spitting out glowing pieces of cinder.
I kept myself tucked in the gloom and silhouette of the trees, studying the lay out, gathering Intel the best I could.
