Black Market Blood (The Lazarus Hunter Series Book 2)

by Cas Martin

  Guessing he was writing about vampires wouldn’t ever cross anyone’s mind.

  Now, there in black and white scribble, a strange pattern was emerging in the half-light of dawn.

  The previous morning, he’d put the thought aside. Exhaustion often clouded his judgement once he was back in the safety of his grandma’s house. Now, he couldn’t ignore it.

  A simple observation. There were fewer of them on the streets at night. Not a lot, but enough for him to notice. Something was changing. He could sense it in the air.

  Then came the meetings. New York was the closest thing to a melting pot in the vampire world. Tight boundaries marked smaller territories. Individual families had headquarters scattered across the city. The architecture might be different, but the purpose was always the same. A place for vampires to convene. Where their own laws, customs and social norms outranked those of the human world around them.

  When the organised meetings became more frequent, Garth noticed. By night he crossed the city, existing in the shadows, watching as individual families converged. Only one family seemed to stand out. Monica’s. The Giordano family was running as routinely as ever. Only one formal Council of Elders meeting each week.

  He stared at the pages and wished he could speak to David. He seldom allowed himself the pain of such thoughts. For a few weeks, David had been the older brother he’d always wanted but never had. Someone who knew about them.

  David’s death had reminded him of his own mortality, much as he had hated to admit it. Like his mother’s death all those years earlier, it gave him his mission. He knew what he was put on this planet to do. That Monica had saved his life once didn’t mean he wasn’t going to get rid of as many of them as he could. He was just starting with the killers and abusers first.

  Garth might be dead before he had to eliminate some good guys, so he’d worry about that bridge when he came to it.

  David and Elizabeth were educated. He’d made it through high school, but the late night hunting had been more important than good grades. His research would never live up to theirs, but he saw now why it counted. He used to stalk a single vampire until the job was done. Effective in its own way, but it only allowed him to focus on one vamp at a time. Now he tied all the threads together, turning individuals into groups. Monica taught him that the family was a tightly controlled unit. Each family was different. She had given her word that those under her control were not the monsters who had murdered his mother and Elizabeth’s father.

  He trusted her, despite the self-betrayal he felt by doing so.

  Their paths had not crossed since Elizabeth’s return to England. It was better that way.

  A few months earlier, he had tracked a vampire from her family. An older man with a weakness for teenage girls. He knew some humans consented to the feed. Wanted it even. The very thought of it made him shudder and retch. Regardless, he was certain these girls weren’t consenting to his hands and teeth upon them.

  Garth had still been planning his move when the vampire had been swiftly and fatally dispatched. He had watched it happen from a distance, hidden in the shadows. He had followed the man to his regular feeding grounds. The immediate cleanup operation assured Garth he had met his end at the hands of his own kind. Only the head of a family could order that done.

  One time he had seen Dennis across a crowded train. They made eye contact and exchanged subtle nods. Their lives had crossed for the briefest of times in the most extreme of circumstances. That was all.

  He took a sip of coffee and looked down at his scribbles once again. He had the feeling he was missing something. Something important that Monica might understand. He had to try to work it out himself, not go running for her help.

  Garth rubbed his pounding temples and reached for yet another strip of Tylenol. If he could just shake the cold he’d been fighting for the past month, he might be able to think a bit clearer.

  5

  There was a cool breeze and Elizabeth turned her collar up against the cold as she leaned in closer to her date. A surprise mid-week outing that had spiralled from conversation in the library to coffee and then dinner. She enjoyed his conversation, but Saul wasn’t too hard on the eyes either.

  He’d suggested walking rather than taking his car. So they’d left it parked at the university and made the short journey to the high street. Despite the crispness, it was a fine clear evening, perfect for a stroll. Plus, he had reasoned, they could both then have something to drink with their meal.

  The cynic in her knew it also meant he could offer to walk her home, in the hope of being allowed inside. The cynic was a bitter part of herself she was working hard to ignore.

  Even if it was most likely right.

  ‘I had a really nice time tonight,’ he said, holding out his arm for her to link with her own. ‘I’d had a shitty day trying to work out where to take that next section. Seeing you was exactly what I needed.’

  ‘It was fun. I’d heard good things about that restaurant.’

  ‘Dr. Coleman mentioned it last semester. I’d been meaning to try it out once I’d had a chance to check a few reviews, but never got around to it.’

  ‘We should do this again.’ Elizabeth meant it. Tonight had been nice. Normal. What she was striving for.

  ‘That would be great. You’ve got something of a reputation for how hard you work.’

  ‘I do?’ She tried not to prickle at the comment. Saul meant it as a compliment, but it still felt like an insult. He didn’t notice the sudden tension in her arm.

  ‘Yes. You don’t finish at six like the rest of us. You burn the midnight oil, even when you don’t have to pull an all-nighter because you’ve left it until the last minute, like we did when we were undergrads.’

  ‘Being a workaholic runs in the family,’ she joked. The humour didn’t reach her eyes. It was easy for him. He didn’t have the great Professor Hastings to live up to. The ghost of her father practically walked the damn corridors there. She needed to be as academically successful as her father had been. The demand for historical researchers was less than when he’d embarked on his career. Most people no longer saw the point in understanding the old world. She still did.

  She would not be doomed to repeat it. Up ahead stood a reminder.

  ‘Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it. I’ve seen the way your eyes light up whenever you talk about it. It’s what you’re meant to be doing. I could see that the very first day I met you.’ Saul nudged her shoulder.

  ‘Huh-huh,’ mumbled Elizabeth, only half-listening. They were still ten minutes away from her house. Town was giving way to suburb. The street lamps were all lit but there were still pockets of darkness where danger could lurk.

  Where, she knew, danger lurked right now.

  As Saul chatted on, the prickling sensation crawled its way up her neck. A sensation that had nothing to do with the cool breeze. As they grew closer to a large Victorian house, imposing at the end of the street, she looked up the sweeping driveway. There, on the doorstep she saw the shadow of a man, like an old lord surveying his land. The unhurried glow of a cigarette moved back and forth. She forced her feet to keep moving. The prickle on her neck wrapped itself around her throat like electrified wire, the scars of her bite dancing in time with her increasing pulse.

  Elizabeth assessed the chances of him doing anything. Saul continued to talk, blissfully unaware of the potential threat. An attack on the open streets was unlikely, but her body remained attuned to the threat. Her mind remained logical, but her body responded as it should; a machine ready for flight or fight.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Saul asked. His abrupt change in tone grabbed her attention.

  ‘Yes.’ The response was too snappy, still too distracted and she felt his arm tense under hers. She needed to pull it together. ‘I’m just cold, that’s all.’

  ‘You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, have you?’

  ‘Sorry.’ She smiled her apology while her ears strained for the possibility of f
ollowing footsteps. ‘I drifted off a bit there.’

  ‘Too much wine with dinner?’

  ‘Maybe.’ She laughed along with him, but the words made her feel vulnerable. Wine heightened some senses but dampened some others. Her old rules — drinking only once you were off the streets — had been broken.

  ‘We’re nearly there now,’ he said soothingly and pulled her in closer. An act designed to comfort and reassure, but one which made her feel trapped. Her entire body felt primed, ready to do what it had once been trained to do.

  By the time she pulled her keys out of her bag, her hands were shaking.

  She noted Saul’s concerned look out the corner of her eye. It wasn’t that cold an evening, no matter what she had said to him. Easier to blame the wine, she thought, as she pushed the door open and he followed her through. ‘Do you want a nightcap?’ she asked. She selected a bottle of red from the rack in the kitchen.

  ‘No, thanks,’ he slid his arms round her waist and she hoped he did not feel the momentary tension before she willed her body to relax rather than defend. ‘Busy day tomorrow. Two glasses of wine should be my limit. Don’t want to wake up with a hangover.’

  ‘Are you staying here tonight?’ It wasn’t quite an invitation, she knew that. Practical rather than seductive.

  ‘Sure. As long as you don’t mind me getting up early. I’ve got a seminar at nine.’

  ‘Of course. Just don’t wake me up.’ She turned in his arms. This was what normal women did, right? Slept with men they found attractive. Her body was wired with energy and the tingle on her neck had settled to a low throb. He kissed her scar, nothing more than a coincidence, she was sure, but the effect made her knees go week. She felt the smile, self-congratulatory, on her skin. Saul had no idea it had nothing at all to do with his prowess. How on earth could he know that it was the faded memory of Monica’s bite that had folded her into his arms?

  He kissed her then, bold and confident.

  This was the life she was looking for, wasn’t it? One without vampires and ghosts that haunted every waking hour?

  If only for an evening, Saul could expel them. ‘Let’s go upstairs,’ she whispered.

  She took his hand and forced the thought of Monica's world far from her mind.

  6

  ‘I know Dennis.’ Monica walked through the door of her apartment and kicked off her shoes, balancing her phone under her chin. She had been mid-conversation with the guard at the end of the corridor when he’d called. Guarding her empty penthouse was a dull but prestigious job in the family. Unless you got murdered protecting her, of course. The least she could do was acknowledge those who defended her on a daily basis.

  Dennis sounded panicked on the other end of the line. It was an unfamiliar experience. Whenever there was trouble, Dennis was her rock. Her harbour in the storm. It was never the other way around, although she was sure it should be. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said as she walked through to the kitchen and flicked on the lights. ‘I spoke to Lawrence last week. We were discussing doing some renovations to the club. He seemed fine.’

  ‘I saw him earlier in the week when I was there as well. We didn’t speak, but he was walking through to the council chambers. He looked normal.’

  ‘Has the doctor said what’s wrong?’ Like any slick organisation, each family had medically trained professionals to oversee their health.

  ‘No. All she said was that it appears he is going into decline.’

  ‘Already?’ It wasn’t the answer Monica was expecting. She stopped in her tracks, her hands halfway through uncorking the wine.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s impossible. He’s far too young.’ The decline was a polite term for dying. For when human blood could no longer sustain the body. Sometimes, even vampires tip-toed around the concept of death.

  ‘Apparently not.’

  ‘How old is he? A hundred?’ She didn’t know Lawrence all that well, but he wasn’t the oldest member of her family. Not by a long shot.

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Too early.’ Monica was certain on that point. ‘He’s so strong as well. He’s never been weak. That’s why he joined the Council of Elders so young. At least that’s what I heard. It was before my time, obviously.’

  ‘Something’s not right here Monica. I can feel it. When I spoke to the Doc, she said he was starting to decline, but it was like she couldn’t believe it herself. Like it was the only answer she could give, but she wasn’t sure that it was the right one.’

  ‘Tell her to call me in the morning. If there’s anything we can do to save Lawrence then I want to make sure we do it.’

  ‘Will do.’ There was a pause on the other end of the line. Monica opened the bottle, a pop filling the silence as the cork came free. Still Dennis said nothing. He was going to make her drag it out of him.

  ‘Dennis, what’s really going on here? You’re not really worried about an old man dying early.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I know you. After everything we’ve been through, you can be honest with me. Tell me what’s on your mind.’ Her words lay between them, stretching over the night of New York City. The depth of the trust they shared, despite convention, with tiny fissures she chose to ignore. In the silence she poured the wine, killing the seconds until he finally spoke on his own terms.

  ‘I’m worried he’s not the only one.’

  ‘Why?’ She took a sip.

  ‘Just an offhand comment I overheard. Something about us getting more and more like humans all the time. That we were even starting to get sick like them. I didn’t think about it at the time. Everyone gets ill at some point. You know that. We’re not invincible. Just a bit more…hardy.’

  ‘But you think there’s something making people sick?’

  ‘It’s possible. But Lawrence would be the first person that had started to decline because of it. In our family at least.’

  ‘Dennis.’ With that one word, Monica issued a warning for him to tell her everything.

  ‘I’ve heard rumours. Some other families haven’t been doing too great lately. You know I keep my ear to the ground. It’s my job to look after you.’

  ‘But nothing concrete?’

  ‘No. Only conversation in the neutral bars.’

  ‘So it could just be a bug or virus? A nasty one, but not necessarily a fatal one?’

  ‘Could be. I’ll get the Doc to speak to you tomorrow. You should call Lawrence. As his leader it’s your duty, given that he’s a member of the Council.’

  ‘I’ll go and see him. It seems like the right thing to do.’

  ‘No.’ Dennis was firm.

  ‘Why not?’ She tried not to baulk at him giving her an order.

  ‘Think about it Monica. What if it’s some kind of airborne virus? Going to see him will make you vulnerable.’

  ‘But I saw him less than a week ago.’

  ‘When he seemed perfectly fit and healthy, you said so yourself. I see no point in doing anything that would increase your chances. Stay away from him.’

  ‘I can’t hide away. I was going to go to the club now anyway. I needed to change first.’ She looked down at her blouse. A few drops of blood had turned from crimson to rust brown. She was all for asserting her power when necessary, but there was no need for stained clothing to do so.

  ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t.’

  ‘But you always say I should go to the club after I’ve fed.’ Damn their life with its stupid protocols and conventions. And now, apparently, contradictions.

  ‘I know I do. And under normal circumstances that’s exactly what you should do. Just not this time. Speaking of which, what is the time?’

  ‘Ten-thirty.’

  ‘And you’ve already fed? That was quick.’

  ‘What are you trying to say?’ She raised her eyebrow, even if he wouldn’t be able to see the quirk over the phone. Her body tightened at the memory.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Oh yes
you are.’ She took a sip of the wine, its own metallic tang mixing with the taste of blood still on her tongue.

  ‘No I’m not.’ Another pause while she waited for him to dig his hole deeper. He obliged. ‘Well, it just seems more like a booty call if you’re going to get it over and done with like that. Not exactly classy.’ No pulling the punches there. Monica was both offended and amused.

  ‘Don’t judge me. You weren’t there.’

  ‘Neither were you for very long.’

  ‘Ha ha, very funny.’ She was glad he couldn’t see her blush. ‘Do you really think I shouldn’t go?’

  ‘Definitely not. Maybe tomorrow. Let me get a better feel of things first, okay?’

  ‘Are you going?’ She walked through to the lounge and looked out at the city lights twinkling below. She needed to know.

  ‘Not tonight. But tomorrow I will, as early as I can. I’ll be careful, I promise.’

  ‘You'd better. If there is something going on then I’m not prepared to risk losing you.’

  ‘Stop it, you’ll make me blush.’

  ‘I’m being serious Dennis.’

  ‘I know you are. You’ll have to trust me on this one.’

  ‘I will. In that case, I’ll drink this bottle of wine and enjoy my own company for the rest of the evening.’

  ‘You prefer that anyway.’

  ‘I know, but I’d got myself psyched up to go and be all leader-y. Now I’m going to be all slobby on the couch-y instead.’

  ‘I’m sure by your second glass of wine you’ll be fine. Either that or you could send for takeout. I can’t imagine your first little meal will keep you satisfied for long.’

  ‘Stop it! I’ll have you know it was perfectly satisfying. On all levels. Now, if all you’re going to do is insult me then I’m going to hang up.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll speak to you tomorrow. But until then be sensible okay?’

  ‘Always.’

  Monica ended the call and threw her phone onto the couch next to her. This was not the evening she had planned. It had thrown her off. Worse, she worried Dennis could be right. That this was more than an isolated incident.