Blood Moon: A New Adult Urban Fantasy Vampire Novel (The Superiors Book 1)

by Lena Hillbrand

  He wanted to push her away, to throw her on the soiled bedspread and escape. But he had to endure until the Enforcers descended. And since he had to put up with this and the slow response time of the raid team, he might as well get some benefit. Who would notice in all the commotion?

  “I want to draw from you,” he said.

  “Oh, all right. Didn’t you just draw from Big Bertha?”

  “Are you questioning me?”

  “Oh—no, Master.”

  “Good.” Draven pushed her down on the bed and sat on the only other object in the room—a worn metal stool, the seat rubbed shiny silver and the legs covered with layers of chipping paint in various colors. He pushed up Nina’s sleeve and saw many scars, most small and well closed. “How long have you worked here, Nina?”

  “A while.”

  “And you have been lent out many times, yes?”

  She shrugged. “Enough.”

  “Do you like it?”

  She regarded him from under lidded eyes. “Of course I like it. I love it. Unless you don’t want me to like it, and then I’ll fight you and scream for an extra anya.”

  “Do most men like that?”

  “Not most. Some. What do you like?”

  “I like to eat.”

  He didn’t have to look to know where her vein was. His teeth slid in precisely. A hundred years of practice was enough to ensure a good entry every time. Nina didn’t react to his suddenness.

  Though he had noted her drug-laced scent before he drank, he hadn’t realized how much her system contained until it hit his tongue. He almost gagged at the chemical taste of her. He wanted to be sharp for the raid, and he knew the drugs would affect him, too, although not as strongly as they did her. She didn’t even taste like sap anymore. No wonder she had so little concern about what was being done to her—she’d have little awareness in her doped state. The man who owned the place might be Big Bertha’s savior, but he sure as hell wasn’t Nina’s.

  Draven withdrew his teeth after less than a full ration. When he straightened, Nina smiled. She scooted forward to the edge of the bed, her knees opening around him. Her skirt rode up her long legs so he could see the dark hourglass shape between them, could smell her and the men she’d been with that night. He tried to keep his face from betraying disgust.

  “You must not have been too hungry. What, you couldn’t wait to get to the good stuff?” She spread her knees wider, one on each side of him. “Want a taste of something sweeter?”

  The crass way she said the thing, so filthy an offer of one of her waste-emitting orifices, filled him with revulsion. He stood and knocked her backwards, pinning her shoulders to the stained quilt covering the bed. He could hear the Enforcers entering the restaurant, the screams and glass tinkling and footsteps running hard. Escape and pursuit. He longed to be part of it, to capture a fleeing leech, to put a bit more force than necessary into the catch, to teach the restaurant owner that preying on the weak didn’t make him stronger. He wanted to make the owner weak. People like that weren’t superior. They were less than saps.

  He didn’t want to stay in this dank room with this pathetic sap, a sap even dumber than her nature intended, deadened with drugs.

  “Oh, you do want to hurt me,” she said, squirming under him, trying to rub against him, unaware of the raid. “Remember, it’s an extra anya. And you can’t hurt my face, or you’ll have to pay my wages while I’m out of work.”

  “You know I could kill you, yes? Or are you too brainless to realize it?”

  Perhaps her life was so miserable she didn’t care if she died.

  “If you kill me, you’ll have to buy me. My body will cost as much as if I were alive.”

  “But you’ll be dead. Do you not realize that? Do you not know how easily I could kill you by accident, just by losing control? A Superior could break your legs, your pelvis, crush you without any effort at all. A simple accident, caught up in the lust of it, and you’d be dead.”

  “You’d have to pay…” she said, but her voice trailed off and her eyes rolled wildly. Her heart cast away the sluggishness of the drug and beat faster. Her sap moved quicker, and the smell coming off her was a mix of woman and fear and sap and chemical additives.

  “I’d have to pay? A slap on the wrist. So I couldn’t buy a sap for five years—I can’t afford one anyway. Five years to you is nothing to me. It’s nothing to me if I kill you. It’s everything to you. Your life is fragile, it can be over at any moment. Mine would go on as usual.”

  She began to struggle and push with her shoulders, to no avail. Draven sank his teeth into her neck this time. She stilled, and he drew long and hard on the puncture until he heard the Enforcers in the hallway. He pressed his tongue against the wound, closing it just before the door burst open.

  7

  “This is a raid,” the loud, electronic voice blared. “We are Enforcers. Stay where you are. Do not move until instructed.”

  Draven held perfectly still. He knew without turning that the Enforcers had trained their guns on him. “Draven Castle, Third Order, health inspector,” he said. “I called in the raid, sir.”

  “Step back from the homo-sapien and face our weapons.”

  Draven rolled from Nina, relieved to be clear of her fleshy warmth and swampy smell. Holding his hands up, palms forward, he faced the weapons. “I did not violate the sapien. I did no wrong. I would like to help with the raid, sir.”

  The two Enforcers in the doorway scanned him with their eyes and appeared satisfied that his clothing was in order. “Hand us your work card and papers.” He obeyed. One of the Enforcers shone a light over his cards to check for authenticity while the other kept the gun trained on him.

  “You’re in order. You may identify, track, or help bring in any restaurant employees.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Draven pocketed his cards and nodded in respect before he turned and leapt down the hallway. The place was in chaos. Tables and chairs lay overturned, trays littered the floor, saps cried and huddled together in corners. Draven didn’t waste time on the saps. He scented for the underlying scent in the restaurant and found it. Ander. The owner.

  He vibrated with life—Nina’s life. He allowed only a twinge of guilt at having overdrawn her. She would regain strength in a few days, and he needed it to accost the escapees. He hadn’t had so much energy in quite some time. In his hundred Superior years, he’d grown accustomed to his five rations. Charged with energy from the additional rations he’d taken, he felt unstoppable.

  He’d read somewhere that actors received extra rations before stunt scenes to pull off incredible feats. Remembering a scene from a vid he’d watched, pumping with the thrill of the chase, he leapt onto the wall and ran several steps along it, his body suspended in motion, parallel to floor and ceiling. He got an incredible rush from it, almost as intense as that of being granted freedom to pursue the escaped manager. He pushed off the wall, amazed at his own vitality, at his ability to clear three of the fallen tables in one bound. He hadn’t paid enough attention to his illegal tapping of Nina. He must have drunk more than he’d intended.

  He passed through the glass door, a shower of glittering splinters tinkling to the floor and raining down around him. Outside, he turned both ways and inhaled deeply. He traced a faint scent and sprinted in that direction. He let himself go full speed, something he hadn’t done in a long time. Though he’d worked as a Catcher often enough, pursuing a Superior was different. This was primitive, like hunting.

  After a few blocks, he knew the scent paralleling Ander’s must be another Superior on the trail. He sprang forward, enjoying the flex of his muscles, the stretch of his limbs, the incredible power of his feet springing off the sidewalk. People moved aside, giving him curious glances, and he checked his enthusiasm, but only a bit.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much excitement. Even when he’d snuck Cali back to the Confinement and gotten away with it, he’d only had the excitement of a secret defiant
act. Chasing a Superior gave him a much greater thrill. He had worked as a Catcher many times, and the chase always proved the most thrilling aspect of the job. But homo-sapiens were sad and scared and sometimes treated brutally, especially after Catchers brought them back from an escape attempt. Superiors were smart, crafty, and had an equal chance of capture or escape.

  Draven turned a corner and stopped to scent for the owner. He caught the scent, stronger now, and burst ahead again. His skill at chasing exhilarated him. He felt weightless, indestructible. He caught sight of the Enforcers first. They were several blocks ahead, but Draven was fast even for a Superior. Upon spotting the Enforcers, he renewed his effort and caught up in seconds. “May I assist in the capture, sirs?”

  “If you’re needed.”

  “I can help you to trap him.”

  “Very good.”

  One of the Enforcers stayed outside while Draven and the other followed the trail into an underground day club. Dancing bodies, writhing and wild, packed the dance floor. The two men stopped and scented. Ander’s individual scent disappeared into the cacophony of scents in the room.

  “He’s in a room to the right,” the Enforcer said at last. Draven and the Enforcer skirted the mass of scantily clad dancers, illuminated by flashing lights. When they had nearly reached the wall, Draven caught Ander’s scent again.

  The two men paused at a green door, and again at one painted red. The Enforcer pointed to the door, and as they entered, they were plunged into total darkness within. Even Superiors hadn’t developed eyesight to combat such utter blackness, and they relied on scent alone. The basement stank of mildew and disuse, and in it, Ander’s scent signaled clear as a beacon. They descended another staircase, pausing to listen and scent every few steps. The basement lay below them, as silent as it was dark. Finally they reached the last stair, and Draven stepped onto the floor below.

  Ander leapt at them, knocking Draven flat. Draven hit the floor hard and slid across the damp concrete. The Enforcer caught Ander before he could turn, but Ander quickly flipped him and sank his teeth into the smaller man. The scent of the Enforcer’s blood, bitter and metallic, hit Draven with a strength that burned his nostrils. He sprang to his feet and flew at Ander. Connecting with his target, he tore the shirt from the larger man before he gained an advantageous grip and began twisting Ander’s arm.

  Ander was a Second Order Superior, strong and well-fed. He must have feasted recklessly on his own property to become so powerful, and he’d become more powerful still when he’d bitten an Enforcer. Without exerting much effort, he flung Draven into a corner. He was up the stairs and through the door before Draven could recover.

  “Do you need assistance, sir?” Draven asked, scrambling to the Enforcer’s side.

  “Get him,” the Enforcer said from the floor.

  Draven sprang up the stairs and scanned the room of dancers. He could not detect Ander among the bodies, but he could follow the scent of the Enforcer’s blood. He scanned the room for the metallic odor. He had almost given up when a faint whiff caught his attention. He followed it up a flight of stairs and into a restaurant at street level. The place, occupied by only a few Superiors playing games during working hours, seemed strangely quiet after the noise of the club below. Draven scanned the room, but the scent had vanished. Though he could detect a scent as well as most of his kind, this time he failed. Not even the slightest trace of the Enforcer’s blood-scent found his nostrils.

  He waited several minutes before descending the stairs. He had failed in his first attempt at helping the Enforcers catch a criminal. The thrill of the chase vanished when the chase proved fruitless. Heavy disappointment weighed his steps as he made his way to the red door. When he opened it, the smell within hit him like a blood bank delivery truck. He quickened his step and located a flashlight in the Enforcer’s belt. He switched it on. The Enforcer lay prone on the floor, his eyes open.

  “How can I assist you, sir?”

  “He tore open my shoulder and I can’t reach it,” the man answered. “Can you close the wound? If you can’t, I’ll wait for MedAssist.”

  “I can if you would like, sir. You must be in a great deal of pain.”

  “Yes. Please do it quickly or find someone who can. I’m losing more blood every second.”

  “Yes, sir, if you’re sure. MedAssist is much better, though. I can’t close it without leaving scars.”

  “Just do it, damn it.”

  “Yes, sir.” Draven bent over the officer. The extent of the wound surprised him. He worked quickly, not relishing the work as he would closing a human wound. He hated seeing how much the injury had weakened the brave Enforcer and how much blood puddled on the floor under him. The Enforcer lay still, breathing hard as Draven’s tongue moved over the torn flesh from neck to shoulder blade. When he had finished, Draven sat up.

  “Are you able to stand, sir?”

  “I think so.” The Enforcer was slow to sit and slower to stand, but he made it to his feet.

  “If I may make a suggestion, sir, I believe you should eat quite soon.”

  “Of course. Thank you for your help.”

  “Sir, I have to report I did not meet with success in capturing the man Ander.”

  “I assumed as much.”

  “I am quite sorry, sir.”

  “It can’t be helped. I should have brought the other Enforcer. How did you happen to join the chase?”

  “I called in the raid. I’m a health inspector. Sir.”

  The Enforcer laughed weakly. “I see. You must like to be where the action is.”

  Draven relaxed a bit at the Enforcer’s informality. “I do find it quite stimulating.”

  “And have you considered training as an Enforcer?”

  Draven paused before admitting his lowly position. “I am of the Third Order, sir.” He stood stiffly and waited for the reaction, but the Enforcer’s face remained impassive.

  “Of course. Unfortunate, though. You’d make a good one with some training. Would you like to eat with me?”

  “Oh—I’m not accustomed to dining with Enforcers, sir. I’m afraid I am quite unprepared.”

  The Enforcer laughed again and clapped Draven on the shoulder. “Relax, inspector. I need nourishment as quickly as possible. It’s nothing to get dressed up for.”

  “I’d be honored.” Draven followed the Enforcer up the stairs and through the club. The sky to the east showed a streak of blue. “There is a small eatery above the club, sir,” he told the Enforcer.

  Inside, the Enforcer ordered four cans of sap and sat down at a small table. Draven had forgotten that some people preferred the convenience of a meal in a can instead of lingering to enjoy it from the source. He hated the stale taste of canned sap, like something essential had been stripped from it. But under the circumstances, perhaps he’d have done the same.

  The Enforcer popped the top of the first can and downed it without pausing. Then he looked at Draven. “Will you have anything?”

  Draven looked down. “I used my ration card already, sir.” He wondered if the Enforcer could read the deceit in his face. He knew they received training in lie detection. He wasn’t exactly lying—he had used his ration card. He’d also used a few rations beyond his card. Now that the rush had left him, the drugged sap had begun to make his mind sluggish.

  “I write this off, compensation for a business related injury. You closed my shoulder wound, and you should be quite a bit stronger for having ingested some of my blood. But if you would like, I’d be happy to repay your kindness by adding another ration. Might as well show you a kindness in return.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Draven said, concealing his surprise at the Enforcer’s candid speech regarding his blood transfer.

  “You licked my shoulder for fifteen minutes. Why don’t you just go ahead and call me Byron now that we’re intimately acquainted.”

  Draven looked at the Enforcer, trying to determine what his wry manner indicated. But he wasn’t going to miss
the opportunity to call a Second by name and stop saying sir every sentence. “It’s nice to meet you, Byron,” he said at last. “You were quite brave trying to take down Ander alone.”

  “Or very humanoid. I should have called for backup.”

  “I made an earnest attempt. I did not know he was so strong.”

  “He is. He’s been feeding illegally. We’ll put him in the system, but he’s probably smart enough not to go back to his establishment.”

  “How did you track him in that club?” Draven asked, accepting the can of sap from the waitress. He kept his face from betraying distaste for his new friend’s choice of beverage.

  The Enforcer smiled. “Years of training and years of practice. Ander is very dangerous.” His face grew serious. “If he saw you again, he could probably identify your scent as the man who tried to capture him. He doesn’t have to know you’re an inspector to want you gone.”

  “Thank you for the warning.”

  Byron pushed the last can of sap across the table. “Here, take this. As a thank you. Maybe it will give you the strength to catch the next one.”

  “Thank you, sir. But I imagine you need to replenish your strength much more.”

  “Quite right. I have two saps at home, though. And you, I’m guessing, don’t.”

  Draven tried not to bristle at the reminder of his status. He knew the older man hadn’t meant an insult, but he did not like to think of himself as the inferior he was.

  Byron stood. “I just meant, because you’re an inspector. I don’t know any inspectors who own livestock.”

  “Of course. You’re right. I don’t own property.” If only he had some way to purchase a sap. Not just any sap, either—he wanted one in particular.

  “I should be getting back. It’s getting light and I don’t have my strength back yet,” Byron said.

  “It was an honor to dine with you, sir.”

  Byron smiled. “And you, inspector. I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Draven Castle, sir. I’m glad I could be of assistance.”