by Ann Gimpel
Much like vampires, silver and lead were his undoing. They wouldn’t kill him, but they’d immobilize him, so it was kind of the same thing. He parked the Toyota and hustled into his modest two-bedroom bungalow in the run-down part of town. Neighbors didn’t look too closely here—at anything—and that suited him just fine. Plus, the house backed onto acres of wilderness. Perfect for his jaguar to run free.
A hooker lived across the street. A drug dealer next door. Definitely a “don’t ask, don’t tell” environment.
He didn’t bother with the lights as he shucked his wet clothes, hanging them over anything handy. Once he was naked, he threw his magical well wide open and visualized a shadowy alley not far from the multicar pileup. He’d considered shifting and running there, but this was faster.
A muted snarl from his jaguar told him his bondmate didn’t agree with his choice. The creature adored running, and they’d been in their human form for the last couple of days.
“Soon,” he told it and whisked them to his selected spot. It was precisely as dark and secluded as he’d remembered. A muted gasp from behind him told him he wasn’t alone, and he pivoted, night vision fully engaged. He wasn’t certain quite what he’d do to the intruder, but at the very least he’d wipe any memory of what they’d seen.
A bum reeking of booze stumbled down the alleyway, breathing hard and mumbling about DTs as he put distance between himself and Niall. His head was down, and he wove from side to side. Niall hoped he didn’t live to regret his choice, but he left the man to his drunken state. Clearly, hallucinations were common enough; the fellow would chalk him up to one more sensory malfunction courtesy of too much rotgut.
Before anyone else showed up, Niall summoned shift magic. The jaguar took shape with record speed amid stretching skin and reforming bones. He breathed deep, searching for clues. His cat’s senses were far more acute than a human’s, and the first full breath as a jaguar always rocked him with its complexity.
He drew shadows around himself and padded out of the alley, confident he was close to invisible to any passing cars. Not that he expected any at two in the morning. Or maybe it was three by now. Some of the wreckage remained. No doubt what passed for a cleanup crew here had been strained to the max to clear away what they had.
He nosed through the wrecked cars, sorting scents. Beneath the obvious stench of human distress and blood, he picked up shifter—and vampire. Not just one, either. At least three, perhaps four. A careful transit of the broken glass and twisted metal yielded wolf scent—and a big cat, but not a jaguar.
So at least two shifters had packed up with vampires. It was such an unusual association, he retraced his steps, sniffing to make certain he hadn’t imagined the vamps.
At the bottom of the supernatural food chain—or the top if you were to ask them—other magic wielders avoided them like the plague. No one wanted to be associated with the undead and their taste for blood.
Niall growled low in the back of his throat. How could there be shifters here? Let alone vampires? He’d specifically checked not six months before. He dug his fangs into his lower jowl. How—or when—they’d arrived didn’t matter. He wasn’t asking the most important question, which was why they’d be engaging in lethal sport with humans. Even back in the Old Country, such pursuits were forbidden, with harsh punishments attached.
It was why vampires were on everyone’s shit list. Their penchant for nabbing unsuspecting humans and draining them got other humans riled up. Worse, it turned people’s attention to everything magical with an eye to destroying what they’d never understand.
Determined to track whoever was responsible for tonight, he sorted the strongest shifter scents leading away from the carnage and followed them, careful to cloak his presence. He didn’t plan to walk into a trap. If this bunch of shifters paid no heed to the way his kin had always comported themselves, they probably ignored all the other rules too.
Like the one where shifters didn’t form packs anymore.
Had the vampires snared them in some kind of enchantment? It was possible since mesmerizing prey was a vamp strategy, but since when were shifters fair game for vampires?
His magic was stronger than anything a vamp could cook up.
He settled into an easy lope following an obvious scent track. Whoever had done this hadn’t believed they needed to hide their trail. Which meant they had no idea he existed.
It gave him an edge. Maybe not much of one, but he’d take anything he could get. He had a good three hours until dawn would force him back into his human body. By then, he might know something.
He hoped so. This kind of shit had to be nipped in the bud. Before humans caught on and painted targets on all their backs. If he’d been in his other form, he’d have rubbed his hands together. Nothing quite like a good scrap. Vampire blood tasted like rot and dead things, but he wouldn’t let that stop him from sinking his fangs into their necks.
He couldn’t kill them, but he could sure as hell slow them down.
Chapter 2
Sarai Lurie kept her head down and her mouth shut. She’d gotten into this mess by being careless, letting her guard down. The only way out was to pay attention to every single detail. One of them would be her ticket to freedom.
Maybe.
If those bastard vampires pulled too many more stunts similar to the one tonight, no one like her would be safe. Humans, the canny ones, would catch on. She’d been born in the States, but she’d heard enough tales about why her kinfolk left the Old Country to understand secrecy was their greatest asset.
Even if she managed to free herself, it wouldn’t mean much if humans banded together to annihilate everyone who carried a spark of magic within them.
She’d never even seen a vampire until a group of them converged on her, her uncle, and her aunt. None of them were expecting the hostile power that had first surrounded and then immobilized them. As she thought about it, she realized the vamps must have planned and planned well. The attack occurred close to their ranch in a remote area north of Denver.
The three of them had taken a chance remaining together, but it hadn’t seemed like much of one. Insofar as the few humans in the area knew, they were just one more family raising a few head of cattle and a truck garden. Her aunt and uncle had settled on the patch of land almost twenty years before when they truly had no neighbors, only open forest stretching as far as you could see.
Perfect territory for shifting.
Perfect for a quiet little abduction too. She’d tried to shift. So had Stephan and Marie, but the magical net snaring them muted their power. Her wolf had been frantic to burst free, but even adding its considerable magic didn’t alter things. Marie fought back, clawing and scratching much like her mountain lion would have. One of the vamps had jumped on her and dug his incisors into her neck while Stephan writhed against another vamp’s iron grip, screeching imprecations.
Maybe the vamp had misjudged with Marie. Maybe not. He’d killed her. Taken so much blood, there was no coming back. Since he hadn’t even tried to turn her, Sarai was certain the death was purposeful, designed to ensure her and her uncle’s cooperation.
The only things she knew about other magical creatures came from stories, but vampires could offer their wrists to the newly dead. If they fed in time, they’d join vampiric ranks as one more immortal.
The thought of her wonderful, gentle aunt as a vampire sent shivers down her back. Marie was better off well and truly dead than she would have been living on as an abomination. Tears threatened; Sarai blinked them back. She would not allow her pain to bleed through. Or her desolation.
A boot in her backside almost sent her sprawling. “Move faster,” one of the three vamps who’d captured her hissed in guttural Russian-accented English.
“Leave her alone,” her uncle, Stephan, tried to shove between her and the vampire.
“I’m okay,” she said. Stephan had stood up to their captors with his mate lying dead in the dirt at his feet. All it earned
him was a feeding session where they’d drained so much blood, she’d feared he was dead too.
Hooking an arm through Stephan’s, she picked up the pace. They needed to talk. For that they needed proximity since their magic was weak. Goddess only knew how, but the vamps had figured out an enchantment that hobbled shifter power, unlocking their magical wells. Once open, the vamps plundered their power. Tonight had disgusted and horrified her. She’d done her damnedest to cut the flow of her magic, but she’d been helpless.
And now she felt drained as surely as if they’d taken her blood.
Vampires had never had this kind of power, at least according to the lore. They must have teamed up with a mage or a sorcerer. “How are you?” she asked Stephan in shielded telepathy she hoped wouldn’t alert their vampire escort.
“Weak. Don’t worry about me. Save yourself if you can.” He hesitated. “Someone must warn our kin.”
Another staunch slap across her back made her stumble. Anger boiled from her guts, and it took all her self-control not to face off with the vamp, screaming at him.
Bad idea.
They’ll feed from me, and then I’ll be finished. Fragile like Uncle Stephan.
“I know you’re talking,” the vampire who’d shoved her said. “I feel the magic.” He made a grab for her arm, yanking it out from beneath Stephan’s. “Twenty paces ahead.”
“Go,” Stephan urged.
She trotted forward. If they returned to the falling-down cabin they’d started from, they were nearly there. Iron manacles waited, bolted to the less-rotted wall sections. No food. Very little water.
Iron.
A perfect recipe to turn her and Stephan into compliant puppets. The wolf within her growled, imploring her to fight back. She fisted both hands. She wanted to resist, but the vamps had stripped her of her weaponry.
I can’t think like that. If I do, I may as well lie down and give up.
The magic surrounding her prickled unpleasantly. It felt dirty, polluted, not like any power she’d ever come across before. All the hot water in the world wouldn’t clean the slime off her. Sarai shivered. Was this it? A long, slow slide that would end in her death? From Stephan’s comment about saving herself, he didn’t expect to make it out of their predicament alive.
None of their family was close enough to help, even if she had a way of reaching them. When they’d first come to the States, shifters made the decision to spread out. Her parents were on the West Coast near Los Angeles. Her brothers and sisters scattered all over the place. Stephan and Marie hadn’t had any children of their own, which was part of the reason they’d been delighted when she’d moved in with them.
Her mind was rambling. She should be focused on escape, not a rehash of Lurie family history. The nasty magic poked her in the side. She understood well enough and stepped off the dirt road and onto the path leading to the cabin. How had the vamps even found it? Mostly buried in deadfall, blackened foliage suggested they’d had to burn a path to the fallen-in front door.
It reminded her of a crypt, which might be what had drawn her undead captors. She glanced at the sky. Daybreak was close. At least she and Stephan got a break while the vamps huddled in the underground portion of the cabin—the part built into a substantial hill.
If only they went to sleep in coffins or something, but they were very much awake. Far as she could tell, they never slept. Or ate.
It gave her an idea. “Hey.” She aimed her voice at the nearest vamp. It didn’t even turn around. She swallowed around dry places in her throat. “If you don’t feed us and give us water, there’ll be no more magic for you to steal.”
The vampire did turn then. Dark hair streamed down his shoulders, and he skewered her with midnight-blue eyes. Dressed in jeans, boots, and a leather jacket, he could have passed for an extra in a Hollywood Western.
All three of the undead held an unholy beauty. She’d learned not to look too closely at them because their appearance drew her, made her long to present her neck for their fangs. Normally, her own magic would have protected her from self-destructive impulses, but she no longer had access to her power. She felt it swimming within her, but it may as well have lived ten miles away for all the good it did.
The vamp shrugged and turned well-formed, long-fingered hands palms up. “No food here.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” Sarai forged ahead. Not much to lose. “I have no idea what kind of plans you have for us tonight, but if you don’t provide fuel for our bodies, our magic will wither along with our physical abilities.”
The vamp barked something in his language with its guttural intonation that reminded her of Russian with extra, out-of-control consonants. Another vamp glanced his way and replied.
A sharp tug in her midsection hurt so much, she folded her arms over her stomach, trying not to cry out. Magic—her magic—flowed to the vampires, except her reservoir was sucking fumes. Must be why it felt like she’d just been fileted with a dull knife.
The sounds of small rodents reached her sensitive hearing. Even before she saw them, she recognized what the vampire had done. He’d twisted her power into a malevolent version of the Pied Piper of Hamelin to draw game. As soon as the cavalcade of rabbits, rats, mice, and raccoons drew near, he grabbed them one by one, passing them to his undead buddies to drain.
Sarai looked on, horrified. It was a perversion of their magic to use it to lure innocents.
“Different rule book,” her wolf spoke up. “Don’t think about it. Eat.”
It was good advice, but her stomach turned over. She hoped the meat would stay down. “We need a fire,” she said in a voice she barely recognized.
“Not going to happen.” The vampire who’d noted there wasn’t any food looked up from a large brown rabbit. “Figure things out.”
Stephan grabbed a rat from the quickly growing pile of dead bodies. Pushing revulsion to a distant back burner, Sarai did the same. She tugged a small blade from a thigh sheath. The vamps had found it, determined it didn’t pose a threat to them, and let her keep it.
“Water?” Stephan croaked as he used his own knife to skin the rat.
“You are more trouble than you’re worth.” The third vampire set his perfect mouth is a harsh line but ducked into the cabin, returning with a filthy, cracked glass carafe.
“I’ll fill it,” Sarai said. “Extend your hold on me so I can go as far as the stream behind the cabin.”
The vampire narrowed dark eyes, muttered, “I think not,” and headed in the direction of the creek.
“Wash the dirt out of it,” she yelled after him and was met with hoots and jeers from the other two. Blood ran down their chins, giving them a ghoulish appearance.
She went back to the rat. As soon as she had the skin off it and the gut sack out, she chewed meat from the bones. It was bitter but not nearly as horrible as she’d imagined it would be. She laid the bones aside and grabbed another one.
The vampire returned and dropped the water jug between her and Stephan. She handed it to her uncle. He was in worse shape than she was. He drank, throat working, and she noted he’d finished his rat off too.
“We need to move this party inside,” the vamp with the blue eyes said and gathered the dead animals into his arms.
Soiled magic—the sick combination of vampire and mage or whatever they’d joined with to augment their power—prodded her unpleasantly, and she snapped up the second rat and the water, ducking to get inside the cabin. Time for her next request. “We still require food.” She tilted her chin at a defiant angle. “If you chain us to the wall, we won’t be able to eat or drink. By the time today is done, we’ll be too weak for you to use for anything.”
Harsh language flew fast and furious as the vampires argued about her statement. It happened to be true, which might push them in the direction she hoped. She debated saying more but didn’t want to appear too eager. Normal vamps were weaker in daylight.
Her plan wasn’t elegant, but if she and Stephan weren
’t shackled, maybe they could push against their magical bonds enough to make it out the door. The cabin was small, maybe only fifteen feet square, and the vampires would be in the back section, the one dug into the hill. Once outside, the vampires would be slow, clumsy, even with the infusion of whatever was fueling their unnatural ability—beyond her and Stephan’s power.
Outside in daylight was the key.
She tried again to solve the puzzle of what was going on and came up empty-handed. Some other source of magic had to be in play. Normally, vampires wouldn’t be able to capture shifters. Yet they’d not only kidnapped her family, they’d siphoned power from them.
Sarai cleared her head of everything but the moment. She’d only get one chance. Even though she didn’t understand the vamps’ language, they had to be debating if they could trust her and her uncle. Not wanting to appear too invested, she pulled out her knife again and went to work on the rat, repeating her actions from earlier. This one was female and pregnant. Sarai dropped the fetal sac atop the gut sack and ate the rat anyway. Her wolf wouldn’t have wasted a second feeling sorry for the baby rats that would never be, and neither would she.
Stephan was eating too, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He’d moved on to a marmot. Bigger and fattier than rats, it looked good. She drank some water and held out a hand for a chunk of marmot. Stephan gave it to her, an unreadable expression on his face.
She felt for him. Marie had been the center of his universe. To leave her without even a decent burial must be killing him. Shifters burned their dead. It freed the bond animal to move on. So not only was Marie dead, her mountain lion was trapped in limbo. No longer part of this world but unable to return to the animals’ special place.
Anger twisted her stomach into a knot. She sent calming thoughts inward. No point throwing up nutrition she needed. She could think about all this at the other end of it. Right now, she had to be very present. Looking back—or too far forward—was counterproductive.
