Black Magic

by D B Nielsen

  Nothing!

  Heck, it wasn’t like he was expecting the kind of welcome home from Aislinn like the two hotties attending the bar were getting into. Well, okay, maybe in my wildest, wet dreams. But, seriously, a little peck on the cheek, a squishy hug—hell, he was even prepared to take a few warm words like, ‘Glad you’re safe. I kind of missed you’—shit yeah, anything would be nice. Anything more than—

  Nothing. She’d barely glanced in his direction.

  Okay, he could kind of understand the Drake situation, especially with the Black Magic thrown in. And even the whole ‘my club rules’ thing since Caleb was also a stickler for rules, probably worse than anyone he’d ever known.

  He understood priorities, so of course, she’d approached her business partner first. After all, they walked in on a scene of absolute chaos. Yet regardless of justifying it to himself, he’d watched on jealously as Aislinn briefly spoke to Caleb—though perhaps that was simply to appease the grumpy Malum who wasn’t happy that his vintage stock was so liberally being guzzled down by freeloaders in his club. Caleb shot her a disgruntled look, leaving the bartenders to their fun and went to check on stocks himself.

  But he’d expected to at least come before cleaning up the broken mirror on the floor.

  Annoyed and slightly confused, Cooper approached Aislinn, coming to stand at her shoulder while she supervised the cleanup. She seemed preoccupied, even as Lark and Harper served up drinks in between sneaky, stolen kisses which energized the crowd.

  He cleared his throat, awkwardly searching for something to say that wouldn’t show his burning resentment. “I thought Lark had a boyfriend. Wonder how he’s gonna feel about Lark dumping him for a girl.”

  Surprised, Aislinn looked at him—and broke out into peals of laughter that tinkled around the room. “Oh boy, have you got a lot still to learn. Do you need to lose your V-card along with Cole?”

  If he could have blushed, he would have. This was not the conversation he wanted to have with her—of all people. He felt he had to say something. “Oh, I’m not a virgin.”

  Idiot. Why the fuck had he said that? He could have kicked himself.

  It made her smile widen. It reached her eyes. Her impossibly blue eyes. Like staring at a field of cornflowers.

  Man, she’s gorgeous.

  He was so aware of her, he could almost feel his skin break out in goosebumps. But of course, vampires didn’t feel the cold. Or love. Supposedly. Though he had been told they could feel desire. And passion.

  Fuck my life. She already knew the way he felt about her. She had to.

  Worst kept secret ever. No fucking way I’m saying a damned thing to let her know.

  “You’re still a vampire virgin,” she said knowingly. “It’s like your first hunt, or your first kill. You’ll never forget it. Ever.”

  Is that a promise?

  He didn’t know what to say. He was dying here.

  “That reminds me. I’ve got something for you. Wait here.” He watched as she crossed the floor to reach for something behind the bar, bending way over the counter. His tongue almost fell out of his mouth at the sight of her leather pants lovingly molding her bottom.

  He was so far gone, he barely noticed what she was cradling in her arms on her return.

  Not until she held it out to him.

  It was a Barnett Ghost 410 crossbow with custom modifications. Sleek, stylish, powerful.

  “OMV! What the fuck?” He gave a low whistle. Man, oh man. What a beauty.

  “Try not to lose this one,” Aislinn said, handing it over.

  His head came up in surprise. “How did you know I lost the other one?”

  She gave a small shrug, but her smile was as mysterious as the Mona Lisa. He bent over the crossbow, feeling its weight in his grip, its balance and stability. Beautiful.

  When he looked up again, she was concentrating hard on the Nubes cleaning up the last of the mess. His throat felt tight with raw emotion.

  “Thank you.” He moved to give her an innocent peck on the cheek.

  “You’re wel—” His lips fell on hers as she turned her head to face him. He went in for the kill.

  Her blue eyes widened as he took full advantage of the situation, savoring the taste and scent of her, as he used his free hand to draw her to him. He was damned if he was going to let her think he was some inexperienced virgin.

  He tried to deepen the kiss, but she wouldn’t let him. Only her delicate throat fluttering like a bird trapped in a cage beneath his fingertips gave any indication that he affected her at all. She was like a marble statue, but he persisted. His hunger drove him. And it wasn’t for blood.

  Cooper knew a moment’s triumph when she swallowed hard. But that was all she gave him, her stiff posture emphasizing her determination to resist him. He was incredibly aroused, yet she remained immobile.

  It drove him insane. He wasn’t going to let this rest.

  He drew back to find her observing him with an expression of cool indifference. But it was false. He knew it was false, because her eyes were almost obsidian.

  “Well, at least that’s promising. You’ll be a faster study than Cole.” She murmured coolly, before turning on her heel and sashaying away from him to give rapid instructions on replacing the mirror.

  Cooper gave a smug smile, swinging the crossbow onto his shoulder as he viewed her fine ass.

  Finally.

  He’d gotten his proper welcome home. It was enough to get his cold vampire blood racing.

  Chapter 22

  “I see we need to restock more of the vitamin B12 infused thirty-year-old Abruzzo,” Caleb said gruffly as he exited the storeroom.

  “Done.”

  “And the oxygenated vintage 2004 French ‘celebration bubbly’ is—”

  “On back order. We had a five hundredth rebirthday party last week for eighty guests. My brother, Shang’s dynasty of crazy, rich Asians—”

  “Oh, I loved that movie,” cried Cole, who had appeared at the club as soon as images of Caleb and the returned troops were up on Instagram and was now sitting beside Cooper at the bar.

  “—hired the entire venue, private rooms, booths and all. They almost drank us dry. Nikolaus doesn’t know if his suppliers have any more of the 2004 vintage, but he says that if they don’t, he’ll order in the 2006, which was another really good year.” Aislinn continued as if Cole had never spoken, addressing the surly Malum hovering over her. Her eyes flashed a warning. She was no Nubes. She was his business partner and had been successfully running the club in his absence. She demanded some respect for a job well done. “As a bonus, we’ve now got two new bookings for five hundredth rebirthday parties in the next quarter, and one of them wants to refit the interior of the Nocturne at their expense.”

  Cooper whistled, clearly impressed. “Sweet.”

  “Hmph. Well, that might save us having to replace the entire mirrored wall,” Caleb grumbled, refusing to give an inch.

  “Chillax, old man. Don’t be such a party pooper.” Aislinn teased, rolling her eyes at the fuss he was making. Seriously, he sometimes acted like he was the only one who knew how to run a tight ship and give orders. She tossed her platinum locks back over her shoulder as she moved to stand behind the bar. “Why don’t you have a drink? Let’s celebrate your return.”

  Cooper smiled at her like the cat that got the cream—or intended to get some real soon. Aislinn ignored him too.

  Reaching under the counter, she pulled out a blood bag from the nearest bar fridge, one of several state-of-the-art, medical refrigeration units stacked under-counter. “2017. From Chelsea Children’s Hospital. Transfused in individual vacutainers. Nicely aged in blood bags. I’m assured it’s an excellent drop. Stanislav has some business with some Russian oligarchs who prefer their meals rare.”

  Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “You’re trying to distract me from debriefing you.”

  “How can you tell?” Her face was the picture of innocence. “Besides, I think I should b
e the one debriefing you.”

  She reached down again and pulled out Cooper’s broken and bloodied compound crossbow from behind the bar, pale blonde eyebrows raised just slightly to form perfect arches over her coldly unamused eyes.

  “Holy shit balls.” Cooper lost his smile in record time, throwing a worried glance at his drill sergeant.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Oh goodie,” Aislinn said sarcastically. “I’ve got an eternity to kill, and I’m just dying to hear this.”

  “I think I’ll take that drink now,” Caleb said moodily.

  Trying to extract the tale from Caleb was as difficult and as excruciating as pulling teeth. After departing from London on a converted airplane fitted out to accommodate vampires in its luxurious darkened interior, they traveled first to New York. Then New York to Nepal, Nepal to Cairo, and Cairo to Nairobi.

  Training progressed in the usual manner, with the occasional run-ins with the church. The human hunters were persistent, tracking their journey across continents. Ironically, the hunters honored their God with immense blood sacrifice, both their own and that of the vampires they were able to kill.

  Caleb had hoped they would give up when they reached Nairobi, but the hunters were instilled with an absolute faith they were on a mission from God to wipe out the bloodsucking abominations on Earth. They attacked with arrows and axes dipped in holy water, with cypress stakes and seraph blades. Both sides took heavy losses, and for a long time, the ongoing battles proved indecisive.

  But it was the sunlight that was the most despicable and brutal enemy.

  When the human hunters attacked, taking advantage of the daylight and the vampire’s inability to travel in the sunlight, they were able to virtually cut the vampire ranks down by a third. It was the most significant loss the coven had ever suffered on a vampire boot camp. Cooper stated emphatically the orders must have been given by the Immortal Huntress, who had taken over operations from the church. Since she had taken control of operations, everything had changed. They were more vicious and fervent than ever before. And better trained.

  The human hunters pushed their immortal enemies back as the sun rose, forcing them toward the flat, grassy plains, sparsely covered with knotted trees and brambles, and encircled by mountains. Those vampires caught out in the open burned to cinders. And the others barely managed to make it to the mountain caves and safety.

  Caleb was in the middle of the fiercest slaughter, uncaring of the danger, ignoring the carnage. He tried to get his recruits to shelter as the rising sun chased their heels. The sky took on the fiery glow of Demura as he and the last few he’d managed to save staggered into the cool darkness of the caves.

  They were unable to help their comrades.

  In the open grasslands, the barrage of bullets from the hunters’ guns slowed them down, shattering bone and pulverizing muscle. Bullets didn’t kill them, except for the ones blessed with holy water which pierced heart or brain, but when they were hit numerous times with normal bullets, it reduced their capacity to heal instantly and escape from their enemy. Stumbling and crawling toward the cave’s entrance, the blistering dawn decimated them. The other hunters came on yelling, howling, brandishing cypress stakes to follow up the attack, as the vampires retreated further into the Kisula Caves Complex in the Chyulu Hills.

  But Caleb launched a counterattack when night fell.

  The human hunters found it harder to fight in the dark when the vampires came out from their hidey-holes within the extensive labyrinthine lava tubes. They preferred trapping their immortal foe during daylight hours and killing them with ease within the caves complex.

  But in the dark, they fled the increasingly confident Malum warriors who were becoming more proficient through their training and combat together. The tables were now turned. The hunters ran and stumbled, trying to find sanctuary in every valley, every hill, every hedge, and every copse of trees, finally withdrawing to the Mara River, which they were unable to cross.

  But now there was no quarter given nor mercy shown.

  Caleb ordered his troops to drive the hunters into the river or toward the Oloololo Escarpment, and there the vampires attacked, slashing and hacking the humans to pieces with their bare hands and sharp teeth.

  The declining numbers of hunters were particularly vulnerable as the scent and heat of their human blood betrayed them, like thermal imaging in the dark. The vampires stalked them covertly. They used the twisting paths and gullies providing camouflage to take them unawares, engaging the enemy in the darkest, most densely overgrown tangle in hand-to-hand combat where they had the advantage.

  And unlike the humans, the vampires fed on their enemies, fueling and strengthening their bodies. The readily available source of sustenance re-energized them and fed their blood rage and retribution.

  The hunters fought valiantly, but they were no match for the increasing force of the Malum warriors. It did not take long before blood began to flow, bathing the mountains in red.

  With most of his team of hunters savagely butchered, their experienced leader made a final stand.

  Cooper’s skin was slick with the blood of his enemy. He was more monster now than man.

  As the blood flowed over the mountain, a strange sensation creeped over him. At first, he ignored the feeling, thinking it was simply the sight of all that glorious blood, the rivers of it, crimson blood falls on the red-ochre dirt. That, and the fear of never seeing Aislinn again, the panic that death—his own death—and the thought of being turned to ash and dust, inspired in him. But as he focused on the blood, he felt something unearthly. It sent a shiver through him.

  So much beautiful blood. Ruby. Carmine. Vermillion. Glossy. Brilliant red.

  It formed dazzling patterns on his pale skin that only a vampire could see. Like henna, the intricate patterns flowed down his arms to his fingertips. He had only seen this kind of extraordinary marbling effect with inks on paper, and yet it didn’t even come close to the beauty he perceived now.

  And the smell of the blood! Holy mother of Vlad!

  Astonishingly complex flavors of blackberry pie and dark chocolate, hits of cherries, blueberry, and a waft of sweet spice with metallic notes, yet robust like the fullest shiraz. The effect was so enticing, so blissful.

  The blood was so exhilarating, he couldn’t get enough. It sent his senses into overdrive.

  “It’s the blood rage come upon you, lad. You must master it. Control it,” Caleb shouted across the wounded bodies littering the landscape. “Vlad’s tits. I don’t have time for a raw recruit’s feeding frenzy, so pull yourself together.”

  Through the bang of blood pounding in his ears, Cooper could not hear what Caleb said. It was as if an impenetrable, yet transparent dome had descended around him, separating him from the rest of the world. Everything else receded like an ebbing tide upon the shore. Nothing at all mattered but the blood before him, surrounding him, consuming him as he consumed it.

  The crisp, vivid sensations of reality were everywhere, all around him, and yet it felt as if he had fallen into a surreal dream. Through new eyes, he looked around the battlefield at the humans as if through a prism. All at once, he felt incredibly powerful, strong and alive—as if he had never lived before.

  Turning toward the humans dispassionately, he was startled to see how they had changed. Surprisingly, they suddenly appeared to him to be little more than weak, fragile, insignificant men and women, merely frail mortals whose lives like lights were snuffed out with the first strong breath of wind.

  He realized what he had been missing. It was as though he had been living in a suffocating, stifling coffin all his human life. The flimsy veil between life and death had, in an instant, fallen away. These children of men were nothing to him. Mere insects with their tinker toys.

  “For Vlad’s sake, Cooper, get your ass in gear!” Caleb called to him, turning immediately to the others. “Cover your flank. Look sharp, and on my signal, lay down suppressing—”

&nbs
p; With the blood roaring in his veins and experiencing the blood rage building, to Cooper’s amazement, he was able to move with superior speed and ease. A new clarity assailed him, a vitality he had not known before.

  Cooper gazed upon the human hunters like a scientist watching a laboratory experiment with mice. Crawling along the ground, a trail of blood in his wake, a severe-looking young man with deep-set eyes and a protruding chin raised his crucifix to curse the devils towering over him. Cooper recognized him as their leader, approaching the young man to get a better look at him.

  “Spawn of Satan. Demon. Defiler—” the leader spat out a litany of curses, holding up his crucifix as he looked up at Cooper.

  Cooper tilted his head, contemplating the object the man held outstretched, warding him off. Instinctively, he knew not to touch it. Through the blood-fueled miasma in his mind, a faint recollection of church relics and weapons hinted at the danger.

  “You! I know you! My God, this just can’t be happening!” the hunter pronounced, blood and spittle flying from his mouth.

  Chapter 23

  The leader recognized Cooper from the Las Vegas hunter academy. They had trained together briefly but were assigned to different squads. He recalled hearing that Cooper had gone rogue or quit the academy. He didn’t think much of it at the time. Hunting abominations wasn’t for everyone. The life of a hunter sucked balls big time. The hours were crap, the injuries horrific, and finding a lover—well, try telling someone you hunted and killed vampires and shapeshifters for a living and see where that got you. But he never expected to find Cooper here. Never expected he’d turn traitor.

  Cooper continued to examine the hunter as if under a microscope. He felt absolutely nothing for the man himself. The leader was so close to him and yet he could hardly see him for the pounding of his blood. The noise of battle, the menace posed by the hunters, everything stilled and narrowed to the throbbing carotid arteries in the man’s neck, the blood surging in his veins and spilling from his wounds.