Kindred (Kindred, Book 1)

by Nicola Claire

  That's how they had avoided discovery for so long. Let's face it, with vampires being the “in” thing right now and with modern technology the way it is, even glazing every human in a hundred kilometre radius around a vampire hot spot would not be enough to hide them. So, the Iunctio kept them abreast of rules and regulations, hot spots to avoid and places to congregate for protection. They also, on occasion, stepped in to reprimand and control. That part of the Iunctio was run by the council. I'd never met an Iunctio council member and I hoped I never would.

  He looked back at me, his eyes had been wandering to a different place as he had spoken of the vampire connection, who knows, maybe to the Iunctio itself for a brief view, they were centred on me now however. “You should be careful for a short while, my dear. Take extra precautions. Now would not be the time to rush with foolhardiness down dark dead-end alleys.”

  He knew where I had been tonight, why did that surprise me, it shouldn't have.

  “This is your war, Michel, not mine. I've still got a job to do, no matter how many rogue vamps enter the city, they can't just chow down willy-nilly on my neighbours.”

  He winced slightly at my terminology. “But that is where you are wrong, my dear.” He said it with what sounded like regret, as though he'd had a part in what he was about to tell me, as though it was all his fault.

  “It is you they seek, Lucinda. It is you they hunt.”

  Chapter 3

  Unbelievable Fairy-tales

  Well, that was a turn up for the books.

  “Yeah, right.” My usual answer to the incredulous. “What on earth would they want with me?” I mean I know I kill the odd one, but come-on, they deserve it. They break the rules even the Iunctio sets, let alone law abiding humans who run this country. They know what they're doing and they know the consequences. Hunters like me exist for a reason, we may not number in the hundreds, but we're around, here and there. The chances of getting a stake through your heart in a Master controlled city such as Auckland, was pretty acceptable, if you broke the rules.

  “Hunters have been preyed upon for centuries, my dear. It is nothing new. I had hoped however, to keep your success here in Auckland a secret a little longer.” He seemed a wee bit angry at that last comment, as though this was a dent to his pride. The Master of the City unable to control his mob.

  “Of course, I could protect you.” His eyes met mine with a challenge. A challenge he knew I would not accept.

  “You can get off that bandwagon, Michel, you know the answer. I am not yours, nor will I ever be.” Michel had been trying to claim me as his since I arrived in Auckland, fresh off the farm two years ago.

  “Ah, but the benefits, they could outweigh the negatives, my dear.” Again with the power, this time in places it had no right to be. I didn't miss the innuendo.

  I shifted in my seat. I hadn't meant to, I didn't want him to see the immediate effect he had on me, but I couldn't help it. It was a natural movement, like breathing, one I just couldn't control. Of course, he knew and smiled. “You want it, Lucinda, be truthful. You want this as much as I do.”

  Arghhh. His voice was caressing me, his power enveloping me, before too much longer I'd be a blubbering puddle on the floor.

  “No,” I managed to get out in a puff of breath. “No!” Much more adamantly.

  He looked momentarily surprised and then just as quickly regretful, followed again by that implacable mask.

  “No fair, Michel. You promised no mind games.”

  “I did, didn't I? I am sorry, Lucinda, it seems where you are concerned my control is somewhat lacking.”

  Yeah ri-ight. Master vampire loses control over young woman covered in alley muck. I doubted it, but I wasn't going to argue. The power had stopped, the room was back to normal. Always a roller coaster of sensations with Michel, usually decadent and delicious. Never really liked themed parks much.

  “Look, thanks for the heads up, but it's business as usual for me.” No response, no change to the mask he wore, no power level fluctuation, just that preternatural stillness vamps could muster when required. It was a bit creepy.

  I swallowed. “Um, it's late and I'm tired, so thanks for the chat and wine, but I gotta go.” Eloquent, I know, but my mind was miraculously elsewhere. I needed to find something out and I could only do that at home in front of my laptop.

  He rose in one fluid motion and smoothly came around his desk to me. This all happened so quickly I hadn't moved from my comfortable spot in the armchair, but slowly enough for me to see his muscles move, the line of his body curl. Of course, it was on purpose.

  He reached his hand out to me and I took it, who wouldn't? Letting him pull me up to a standing position to face him. I momentarily thought it must be interesting for Michel to have a human look into his eyes willingly. Even those under the glaze fight the instinct on a basic level. I didn't fear him that way. He had never tried to glaze me. And I'm thinking, but not quite sure, that his glaze would be unable to hold me for long, just like his power. Somewhere along the way, God had given me natural vampire repelling skills. My luck.

  “It has been a pleasure, my dear, as always.” I doubted that too, I had seen frustration in those big blue eyes briefly while we talked. He always had trouble hiding all of his emotions from me. A small part of me reluctantly acknowledged that maybe it was intentional, his way of appearing more human and therefore more appealing. You could never trust a vampire. “I shall escort you out.”

  It wasn't necessary, but Michel rarely let me off the premises without a personal escort. He undoubtedly didn't want me staking any wayward vamp on his dance floor on my way out. Bad for business.

  He didn't let go of my hand, slowly caressing the back of it with his thumb as we emerged from the private sanctum through the door to the club. Strangely, it was comforting, rather than annoying. I would allow him this moment I decided. I attempted to hide my smile at my obvious pathetic mental denials of my own emotions. The sooner I was out of here and away from him, the better.

  As expected, every eye was on us as we traversed the club. They were of course on Michel and he knew it. The odd glare was thrown my way by jealous women. They should thank me, I was occupying the monster on their behalf. But still, I kind of liked that he held my hand and not theirs. Bad, bad me.

  At the front door he stopped and turned towards me, leaning in to brush both my cheeks with his lips. This was as close as I usually let Michel get. I put it down to his heritage, they all kiss-kiss cheeks over there, don't they? He hesitated over my left ear and whispered, “The offer will always stand, Lucinda. Your safety is guaranteed with me, all you have to do is acknowledge that you are mine.” His thumb had not stopped caressing my hand and although there was no evidence of his Sanguis Vitam rolling off him, I felt weak at the knees. My breath suddenly caught in my chest and my heart beat a staccato rhythm in my ears. His eyes, when he pulled back, were looking right into my soul. Was that possible? Vampires don't have souls do they, can they even recognise another?

  The moment stretched to an almost embarrassing length of time and then the door opened and Bruno appeared. Thank God for Bruno.

  Michel smiled, lighting up those impossibly blue eyes. “Good night, my dear, safe journey.”

  I just nodded like some stupid Kewpie Doll and walked out the door past Bruno. His smile said it all.

  Finding a taxi home had been easy. If there's one thing Auckland is good at, it's taxi's on every corner after dark. It's as though we humans have subconsciously banded together to provide a life line amidst the turbulent waters of the undead.

  My apartment is my sanctuary. I had toyed with the idea of flatting with others when I first arrived in Auckland, but I'm not good with regular humans. It just takes a lot of effort, you know? So, I found myself a one bedroom apartment on the ground floor of a complex with only eight homes. Low density is always so much nicer, don't you think? And being on the ground floor offers perks. Height doesn't stop the otherworldly nasties, you could b
e twenty stories up and a vamp could just fly there. But on the ground, I can escape through a window and not break my neck. You gotta think of these things when you're a farm girl from the sticks and I'm guessing my natural anti-supernatural skills had already kicked in, unbeknownst to me, when I was perusing potential flats.

  It's a one bedroom place, compact but not small. Coming from the farm I thought it would be impossible for me to live inside a box. But, I chose this apartment as it was at the end of the row, farther away from the sounds of traffic on the street, but with windows on the end facing out to the large expanse of lawn out the back. Of course the view is kind of ruined by the communal clothesline, but still, I can see green and the sun comes through from late morning 'til evening.

  The landlord had painted it cream on cream. I like that simplicity, but rental properties should not be cream. There's a mark on the floor from the last tenant, I cover it with my couch, but I know it's there. My bedroom is off the main room. That's where the lounge, dining and kitchen reside, with a bathroom off the kitchen. It's a box, but it's nicely done. I entered my bedroom and stripped off. Shower first and then on to business. Before I left for the bathroom I switched the computer on. It's in my bedroom on a desk in the corner. One thing about my bedroom, is it's big. Spacious, that's what the real estate agent said when she showed me through. I think she was exaggerating, but there is space to have a small office set-up in the corner and not feel cramped.

  By the time I came back from the shower, the laptop was all go. Wrapped in a robe I plonked myself down in front of the glowing screen and brought up my web browser.

  The internet has been my friend for a long time now. It provides a necessary service. One I could not imagine my life without these dark-filled days, but it wasn't always that way. It wasn't until my first run-in with the undead, that I latched onto to the power of the Net. That first introduction to the creatures of the night had been only a couple of days after arriving in Auckland to start my new job at the bank. I had no idea what he was, but before I knew it, this creature was in my face, his eyes glowing a strange soft red, the humming a crescendo of voices in my mind. My heart beat like a jack rabbit running at a hundred miles an hour. My inner monologue started jabbering away in a frantic no-nonsense kind of way. It hasn't really stopped since. Run, run as fast as you can, get away from this creature while you still have your Light intact. Yeah, that's right, my inner monologue said Light. Freaky huh?

  I don't know what happened next, it was all a bit of a blur, but I do remember there being a bright light; so white and crisp and clear. And the next thing I knew I was running as fast as my 5'4” frame could carry me. Somehow, I got away.

  So, after that run-in with the undead I did a bit of research, turning to the never ending information highway of the World Wide Web. Of course, all I found on the internet was the usual stuff of legends; garlic, silver, holy crosses and all that. Some of it is right, but some of it is just the over-imagination of a literary brain. Garlic for instance, just a myth. But silver, that's the big baddie right there. The vamps and ghouls can't stand it. Even the shape shifters try to avoid it if they can. Crosses, unfortunately, have little effect, other than the scorn that appears on the face of the vamp you're shoving it at.

  So, I started searching on my unique skills. The humming I had heard, the recognition of power and the evil stench coming off of the thing that had attacked me and that strange bright white light. It's surprising what you can find on the net when you enter the right combination of search words. It took several goes and several weeks of surfing in the evenings - no way was I going outside after dark - when I stumbled upon a website. It was password protected, which was a clue in itself, but even the best protected websites have a way in. Not that I would have a clue how to do that, but one of the guys in my best friend Rick's shape shifter family, Josh, is really good at hacking things. And I mean good.

  I'd already met Rick by this time, he's a kick-boxing instructor at my local gym. Fitness is a compulsion with me. I've never not belonged to a Gym, so I had joined Tony's Gym as soon as I arrived in Auckland. When I mentioned in passing, that I wanted to get onto a password protected site, he put Josh on it.

  One evening at my place, three jumbo pizzas later and I was in. A fair exchange Josh had said. I think I lucked out though.

  The website is set up by a group of people just like me. As far as I can tell. They're pretty careful what they put up there. I mean they're not stupid, they know the site can be hacked if the hacker is good, so they still take care. But, it is the first stop on the freaky-supernatural-antenna-person's radar when info is needed. Since Josh originally hacked into the website for me, I have become a legitimate member. Now, I no longer need to break and enter. Now, I have a password.

  I entered my login now and brought up a forum. There were five others on-line. Quite a lot for this time of night. I mean New Zealand, if you didn't know, is half way around the world, so when it's night here, it's daytime elsewhere. My compadres are usually tucked up in bed after a hard night's killing, or more likely, at work in their “day jobs” at this hour, so I was a little surprised.

  My hand hovered over the keyboard, trying to think of what exactly to write. There are rules if you want to belong to this club. Careful scripting of questions and answers was mandatory, or you got locked out. I couldn't afford that, so I took care before I hit enter.

  I typed in How busy have you guys been lately? And hit enter.

  There was a five second delay before Nero answered, he's based in, surprisingly, Egypt. For some strange reason Egypt's a little hot-spot for vampires, who knew with all that sunshine.

  Busy and you?

  More so than usual. What's the goss?

  They'd long ago got used to my language skills. We Kiwis abbreviate anything.

  Can't talk here, meet us at the usual in 30 minutes.

  Strange, but not unheard of. Clearly our site was being monitored.

  The usual is a satellite phone with scrambler. Not all of our kind has them, they cost an arm and a leg, and they can't be used all the time. What with big brother watching, even with a scrambler, means it's usually a last resort. And to top it off, we need to hook into a teleconference type arrangement, which has to be initiated by one of only a couple from our group. I guess they're the oldest and wisest, I've never asked. Nero's one of them. I've only talked about four or five times before on the phone and they were only minor initiation type conversations.

  There's no way I could afford a satellite phone with scrambler on a bank teller's salary, but it was a gift. I'm guessing from Michel, but I never asked. It just appeared on my bed one night after I'd been out hunting, there was a residual of power left in the room, a signature so to speak. No card to say, here you go, have one on me, just the low humming of a high level vamp. Usually I can tell if it's Michel, I just know his signature, but this vamp had taken the time to conceal his scent, if you can call it that. I don't know why, but I still think it's Michel.

  It never occurred to me at the time, how he had entered my home. The old myths of them needing an invitation are actually correct. But, he's never been back in again. I've never invited him and I never will.

  Half an hour can seem like an eternity when you're waiting on answers, but finally the satellite phone buzzed. I answered and entered my code, the one that changes weekly. You have to login to the website before the end of the week, to make sure you grab the code. I had only missed it once and I'd had a call the next day from one of the group, simply telling me the code and hanging up. I heard the static of other live lines now as my hook up to the conference had been accepted.

  “Kiwi here,” I said into the mouthpiece. Kiwi is my handle and if you didn't know, a native flightless bird of New Zealand. It's one of our icons, our symbols, and I feel very connected to it. I'm proud to be a Kiwi.

  A warm luxurious voice said, “Nero welcomes Kiwi,” followed by acknowledgements from Yankee, Islander, Citysider and Smurf. Don't as
k me where they get their handles from, it's a personal thing.

  “So, you've had some trouble too?” Nero's voice again, distinctive in it's heavy northern African accent. He never tried to hide it, neither did I.

  “Yeah, it's been chronic. Three in one night and one a level four master.”

  “Much the same as here. Crawling out of the cracks in the pavement they are.” This time Citysider. I'm guessing he's from London, but I'm not sure.

  “Why the sudden increase in activity?” Me again.

  “It has been foretold that this would occur.” Sometimes Nero talked like this, like all of what we do is from some bad B grade movie and he's the director influencing the scene. I'm guessing Nero's quite old, but sometimes, just sometimes, he sounds like he's as old as Michel.

  “What do you mean, Nero?” This time Yankee had piped up. No disguising that accent.

  “We are entering a difficult time, my friends. Our people are in danger.”

  “Being hunted you mean?” I asked, thinking back on what Michel had said.

  “Hunters have been preyed upon for centuries, my dear. It is nothing new.”

  “Yes, our kind have always been hunted, as we hunt them. We must be vigilant. Spread the word to your comrades, should you meet them, but do not mention this on the site. We are being watched from every angle and must remain calm. We overcame their dominance once, we will again.”

  “There were more of us back then, Nero.” Islander's thick south east Asian accent filtered through the line. “We are but the remaining few of a dying race. What can we do?”