Seduction's Bite

by Madison Layle

  Kieran's gaze slid to the priest. “Foolish to broadcast such activities."

  "That is what has the Order most concerned. They have been careful to not use their real names, and the hunter is always masked, although some of the scenery is familiar. After watching all of the videos, I've confirmed kills in at least three major U.S. cities and two in Canada. Some in the Order believe they want to be found. It would make their hunt easier if the prey came to them, no?"

  Father Hardwin had a point there, although Kieran thought it was still stupid to seek such trouble. If some humans were fighting back against the Horde, why should the Order be concerned? “And you bring this to my attention because...?"

  "The problem,” the priest said, “is that the hunter and his personal on-scene reporter do not distinguish between vampires like yourself and those that have turned rogue."

  Ah. So that's what the old man is getting at. He gave the priest a serious look. “I have many vices, Father, but I draw the line at killing humans, even if they're vampire hunters."

  The priest frowned. “You try my patience, Kieran. I would never ask such of you."

  Kieran smiled. “Just making sure we're still on the same page of the Good Book, Father."

  After a dramatic sigh, the priest continued. “It's important for you to remember that other vamps do not abide by the same rules as you and I."

  Truer words were never spoken. The Horde was unorganized at best and admittedly reckless in their kills. But, after being hunted almost to extinction over the centuries, all vampires guarded themselves regardless of whether they turned rogue. If some felt threatened by the human hunters, they could go after them—would go after them—with a vengeance. “The Order wants you to make contact with them."

  "Without getting myself staked, of course."

  The priest gave him a hard glare, but Kieran noticed his lips twitch with suppressed amusement.

  "If they can be shown that there is a difference, they might be willing to join our cause. The hunter's abilities, at least those that have been documented, appear quite impressive."

  Kieran thumbed through a hymnal. “And you want me to risk my neck to test this theory?"

  "Who among you is better suited for such a task?"

  Kieran harrumphed at that.

  "Now, should you contact the woman first—"

  "Ah, so my interest in the fairer sex comes back to haunt me.” Kieran leaned back in his seat as he studied his friend, a smile playing with his lips.

  "I'm not suggesting you seduce the woman."

  Of course not. Although ... Kieran wouldn't rule that out as a possibility, regardless of what the good priest preached. He struggled to hold back his grin while the priest puffed with offense. Another fault against him, he did love teasing the old man.

  "I only meant you might survive longer if you approach her first as opposed to her companion. He doesn't appear that interested in conversation, judging by the videos. Should you take my advice, you might get a few words out before you need to dodge a stake."

  Good point. “How do I find this hunter and his feminine comrade? You mentioned familiar scenery?"

  "Yes, many of the fights have taken place right here, in or around the New Orleans area. But more importantly, I believe I now know the identity of the female."

  That captured Kieran's attention. If Father Hardwin could identify her, so could the Horde. “How?"

  The priest moved the mouse, clicked on a new link, and another video began. “They have been exceedingly careful to hide their identities, but in studying this one, I discovered ... Wait, watch."

  The new video was similar in that the battle took place in the dead of night. A full moon lent an eerie glow to the surroundings. The scenery did look familiar. Large, above-ground crypts, gothic stone tombs like small cities for the dead were common in the low-lying city and its neighboring parishes.

  As Kieran watched, he noticed this fight didn't go as easily as the other. The battle raged longer and, this time, the vampire discovered the videographer before the hunter could kill him, the fatal blow made as the vampire charged at the camera, startling the woman. The scenery flashed by in a blur as the camera was either dropped or knocked from her grasp.

  "Wait,” Kieran said as he caught something in the sudden swipe of motion. But the shot settled once more, and a small angelic stone statue filled the screen, showered in a dust cloud of ashes.

  "Ah,” the priest said, sounding pleased. “You saw it? Here, let me rewind it just a bit.... There.” He paused the shot, and there, frozen in a single frame, was the woman's profile.

  "A blonde...” beauty. He kept the last part of the observation to himself. Smooth, youthful skin. Pale. Flawless. Perfect ... slender neck. “Her name?"

  "If I'm correct, and I've no reason to think otherwise, she is Cheyenne Logan."

  Kieran glanced at the priest. The way he spoke her name hinted at a familiarity. That thought had Kieran's eyes narrowing with suspicion.

  "You speak as if you know her."

  "I know of her, and I've done some investigating. She's from the Midwest originally, obtained her masters degree in New England, and moved to New Orleans a little more than seven years ago to teach at one of the community colleges."

  Kieran couldn't see a connection. “There must be more you're not telling me. Was she a parishioner here or something?"

  Father Hardwin shook his head. “Her husband was for most of his life."

  Her husband? The vampire killer?

  "She made headlines about six years ago. I believe you were ... sowing your oats across the Carpathian Mountains of Eastern Europe at the time."

  Kieran rolled his eyes. So what if he succumbed to wanderlust every once in a while? No one died from it. No human, anyway.

  "Her husband and newborn daughter were brutally murdered."

  Kieran's gaze snapped to Father Hardwin's. So the husband can't be the vampire killer. Then ... who?

  The priest's smile was tender and mellow. “He'd been such a proud father. The last time I spoke with him was to discuss the child's baptism."

  "And the wife?” Kieran asked. “Where was she when the killings took place?"

  "She suffered several injuries herself that required brief hospitalization. Nothing life-threatening, thank God. Of course, since she survived, she was a suspect. Some still speculate that she did it and went insane afterwards, but the police could find no evidence to indict her."

  Suspicion clawed at Kieran's chest. “And the murderer?” He already assumed the answer. Vengeance was a powerful motivator, enough to make a normal human join forces with a vampire killer.

  "Never found."

  "Vampire."

  The priest nodded. “So she claimed afterwards, which is why her defense attorney had her admitted for psychiatric evaluation. The diagnosis was post-traumatic stress syndrome, but she was eventually released with a clean bill of health even though I hear she's never altered from her original story."

  "How come I've never heard of her before now?"

  The priest frowned. “That was an oversight on the Order's part. Shortly after her release, she dropped out of sight. Sold her home, moved away, or so we thought. We didn't think of her as a danger, so no one kept an eye on her. Then this blogger turned up, and our attentions were diverted."

  Kieran nodded solemnly. “Where is she now?"

  "This evening, she'll be in Baton Rouge."

  Kieran didn't ask how Father Hardwin knew that. The Order had ways of finding out even the most hidden of secrets. “Any place in specific?"

  The priest smiled. “You'd prefer I make this easy for you? I thought you enjoyed a good hunt."

  Kieran refused to take the bait. He shrugged. “It's you who wants me to contact her. If you'd rather it be later than sooner..."

  "Very well. The university campus at six. She's scheduled to be a guest speaker there on the topic of Mythology, Fact or Fiction. That's something else that makes me certain that she's t
he blonde we seek."

  "How so?"

  "I matched up a few of those killings that aired on the blog with last reported vampire sightings in the Order's database. Then I did some cross-checking. The times and places coincide with her appearances as a guest speaker at colleges across the country."

  Kieran got up to leave. If he hurried, he could make it there with time to spare.

  "You'll need this,” the priest said, stopping him halfway to the door. When he looked back, Father Hardwin held up a ticket to the event.

  He retrieved the ticket and grinned. “You just love being thorough, don't you?"

  "Always. And, Kieran ... Be careful."

  "Always."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Three

  The audience laughed as she knew they would. Most people did when she admitted to believing in vampires. Either that or they gave her a wide berth.

  "But the real question,” she said as she paced on stage, her gaze scanning the crowd, her expression serious, “is not whether I believe in vampires. It's do vampires exist?"

  A hand shot up out of the audience. She smiled and pointed at the participant. “Yes?"

  "Do they?” the young woman asked, her voice jovial, mischievous. Her question prompted more chuckles from the audience, which was a melting pot of people.

  In some areas sat the college students, there to earn extra credit for a class or because some professor ordered them to attend the function and do a report on it. In other areas sat the gothic bunch, there to appease their hunger for anything strange or mythical. One or two attendees might even be journalism students looking for a story to fill space in the university paper.

  Then there was ... him. Older than the typical college student, he didn't fit the part of gothic enthusiast either. Reporter? Maybe. With thick, dark hair and chiseled features, he had the classic good looks one would expect of a talking head on the evening news. Although, for some reason she couldn't fathom, that seemed unlikely, too. But he sat front and center ... well, center of the second row, and watched her as if recording her every move. She felt it.

  "Ms. Logan?"

  She winced. Concentrate ... “That depends,” she said, forcing a smile. “It depends on your definition of what a vampire is. The basic definition is a being that sucks the blood of a host to survive. Defined like that, a tick or leech would certainly qualify."

  A spatter of laughter sprang from the sea of faces.

  "Others might define vampires as killers with a taste for blood.” She faced the audience, her expression deadly serious. “Throughout centuries, there have been murderers like that. Cannibals who crave human flesh. Serial killers who drank or even bathed in the blood of their victims. Vlad the Impaler, Elizabeth Bathory ... History is filled with such horrific tales of violence."

  Silence met that remark and, for an instant, his gaze captured hers. His expression showed no reaction to her speech at all, but her breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his look. Goose bumps erupted along her arms.

  She blinked, turned away, and fought the impulse to place her hand over her racing heart. Confusion warred inside her body with an unfathomable arousal. No man had had such a strong effect on her libido; not since her husband. That thought chilled her mood, and she covered her discomfort by sipping from a glass of water that sat atop a stool on stage. She struggled to ignore the tremor of her hand.

  Turning back to the audience and avoiding any glances toward the center of the second row, she said, “So, why is it that people find the word vampire so unbelievable? Maybe it's because of the sensationalism of Hollywood films like Dracula, Blade, or Underworld. Make believe. The stuff of fantasy and creative imagination. But is there not an element of truth behind it all? A hint of fact underneath the fiction?"

  She had everyone's attention now, and no one was laughing.

  "The truth is that there are dangers in this world. People go missing all of the time without any explanation whatsoever. Every day, all over the world. It can occur to anyone among any age group, any race of people, and without regard to economic status. Regardless of what term you use, killers do walk among us, hiding in the shadows of the night, preying on the weak, the inexperienced, the unaware victims too naïve to take precautions.” She paused, staring out at the silent montage.

  "Every myth begins with a grain of truth. It takes curious, open minds to separate the facts from the fables and prepare themselves for reality."

  Several hands rose, making her smile. After another pause, she made her pick, and the flood of questions started.

  Kieran watched the woman on stage while she answered the myriad questions. She was prettier in person than the frame of video suggested. Darker waves of sandy blonde hair shone with highlights of spun gold in the spotlight. Average height, she appeared toned, her muscles sculpted from either hours at the gym or pounding the jogging trails. Or from chasing vampires.

  Her smile was spectacular, her flesh rosy, and her pulse skipped every time she glanced his way. One corner of his mouth tilted up.

  This might be easier than he'd suspected.

  He'd already scanned the audience for anyone who matched the build of her more deadly partner. A few stood out, but after watching each young man for a while, he'd decided none of them could be the vampire slayer.

  Applause signaled the end of the event. He waited for others around him to stand and head her way before he rose and exited the auditorium. One last glance over his shoulder showed her surrounded by people and too preoccupied to be aware of his departure.

  Good. She'd noticed him earlier, but he wanted their first true meeting to be a bit more ... private.

  So he awaited her in the parking lot. It took another thirty minutes before she appeared. With one final wave to well-wishers, she followed the concrete sidewalk toward cars a few aisles over from where he stood.

  He glanced at the setting sun and smiled as his powers strengthened with each inch the orb slipped beneath the horizon.

  He grabbed his helmet off the bike's handlebar and set it on the gas tank. After cranking the motorcycle, he walked the bike backwards out of the shaded slot, and timed his approach to her press of the locking fob on her keychain.

  "Hello,” he said and was surprised to see that she didn't startle.

  Instead, she met his gaze and stopped short of her van's door, her thumb poised over the panic button on her fob. “I wondered,” she said mildly, “whether you'd vanished into the night, Mister..."

  Despite her calm exterior, he could hear the increased tattoo of her pulse. He gave her a careful smile and regal nod in recognition of her brazen regard.

  "I preferred to speak with you away from your ... gothic fans, Cheyenne,” he said.

  "You know my name, but I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Mister...” She again paused expectantly.

  "Kieran,” he supplied, deciding that it was too soon—too dangerous—to provide a surname. If he was unable to seduce her to his way of thinking, giving her too much information about himself could prove dangerous.

  "What exactly did you wish to speak to me about, Mr. Kieran?"

  "No mister, just Kieran."

  She nodded and repeated, “Kieran. What topic did you wish to discuss?"

  "Vampires, of course.” He patted the seat behind him. “Care to hop on and continue the talk some place more private?"

  Her smirk turned suspicious. “Private..."

  "You hungry? I envisioned a little candlelight, quiet corner booth, and a delicious dinner for two."

  "You're asking me on a date?"

  "If you want to call it that...” He glanced at his watch then at the setting sun. “It is getting late, though. With all you said about villainous creatures of the dark, I imagine you'd prefer not to remain exposed to the night elements after sunset."

  She laughed. “And I suppose you expect me to overlook the danger inherent in hopping on a motorcycle with a total stranger and riding off into that
sunset?"

  He grinned, albeit cautiously, and glanced at the fob in her hand. Her other hand was hidden inside the pocket of her blazer, and he wondered whether she was armed. “What if I promised to be a perfect angel?” he asked teasingly.

  "I'd have to ask whether you meant the heavenly or fallen kind."

  He laughed. “You are as quick-witted as you are beautiful. I admire that."

  She leaned a hip on her van, crossing her arms. One hand was empty, but that thumb remained over the fob's panic button. “And you're a handsome devil, but flattery will not work on me, either."

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. She was bold. Sly, too. His opinion of her climbed another notch, and he had to remind himself that she worked with one who preyed indiscriminately on his kind. A cool spring breeze played with her hair, giving her a look of innocence he knew was a mirage.

  He placed a hand over his heart. “I meant the words in the sincerest way, I assure you."

  She gave him a slight nod, her deep green gaze glued to his. “I'm still not getting on that motorcycle."

  With a somewhat dramatic sigh, he said, “A standoff, then. Shall I have my people call your people to make an appointment?” His gaze shifted away briefly when the lampposts scattered about the lot came on—a clear signal that night had arrived. “At high noon, perhaps?"

  He'd have to make certain the meeting took place indoors if she should take him up on the offer. Although he could walk about in the daylight, his sensitive skin couldn't take direct midday sun. Tans looked great on vampires and helped them blend in, but sunburns and blisters were a bitch to deal with even though they usually healed within twenty-four hours.

  Her lips twitched as if she were fighting a chuckle. Pushing away from her van's fender, she reached for the driver's door and pulled it open. “That won't be necessary. If you really want to talk, you can follow me to a cafe up the street. It's usually full of college kids cramming for exams, but it's open all night."

  So much for his plans for a more private venue, but he'd take what he could get. At least he knew she wouldn't attack him in such a public, crowded location. He lifted his full-face helmet off the gas tank and put it on. “Lead the way."