I love StoryBundle. How better to get a bunch of great books at a pick your own pricing? Both Blood Bound and Silent Stalker are part of the Leading Ladies (in Fantasy) bundle, where take-charge women rule the roost and change the world! The books cross all sorts of speculative fiction.
You can get Blood Bound in the basic starter set, and Silent Stalker is included in the second tier bonus books section.
Now sure if Blood Bound and Silent Stalker are right for you? Keep scrolling to read chapter one! (After some various tidbits of general news.)
Onto the news!
1: Grave Intentions released on Tuesday. You can check out details about the release here.
2: Dragon Her Heels will be price changed to $7.99 on Christmas Eve. Please do preorder it at all major retailers (except Kobo, Preorder at Kobo coming as soon as I have a completed book due to technical difficulties over at that specific vendor.)
The Patreon store will be launching at $7.99, but never fear, you can get it at Smashwords on release day for the $6.99 price. (I will be posting a link to all places you can get the story for $6.99.)
Yes, please do take advantage of the $1 off; while there were more production fees than expected, the book will eventually earn those back from the increased rate afterwards. Please take the saved pennies and do something else with them.
3: Playing with Fire and Whiskers on Kittens are both on sale for $0.99. (Bookbub is doing a deal on the 20th for Whiskers, and I decided to run Playing with Fire alongside for shits and giggles. Enjoy the series sandwich!
If you need a gift for a friend or family member, now is the time to toss the joy of books their way!
Please note that I only reduce book prices due to either a Bookbub deal or a promotion done through one of the other various vendors.
Okay, now, onto the first chapter of Blood Bound!
Chapter One
Another night, another vampire, another double-dead end. If I didn’t get lucky soon, I’d run out of miscreants to drain, stake, decapitate, and decorate with holy wafers. In reality, I only needed to stake the toothy bastards, but I figured if I was going to kill every damned unclaimed vampire in New York City, I’d do so with style and get a free meal out of the deal at the same time.
In life, I’d done well for myself; I’d become my father’s perfect daughter, dedicating every waking moment to my budding career as a corporate lawyer on a mission to protect his business interests. In death, or undeath as it was, I’d become a big nothing. I couldn’t even claim I’d become a big fat nothing, as I kept losing weight instead of gaining it, no matter how many of my kind I tagged, bagged, drained, and tossed out with the trash.
Penelope Francis was dead and gone to everyone who mattered, even me.
My stomach reminded me of my neglect with a displeased gurgle. Grunting my dismay over having completely drained another vampire without slaking my hunger, I checked his pockets for cash and found nothing but lint, not even a wallet, ID, or pocket change.
If he’d had food hidden in his pockets, I might’ve been tempted to try my luck. If I ever ditched the relentless hunger, I’d never take food for granted again. I resented my maker’s decision to abandon me in a shallow grave, forcing me to fend for myself. The bastard could’ve left a damned note with a few clues, especially in the feeding department. A manual about life as a vampire would’ve been appreciated. I still wasn’t sure what I could eat. Shortly after I’d risen, I’d tried a slice of pizza once and only once. It hadn’t ended well. I dodged food, afraid I’d throw it up along with my literal guts.
Just to be sure, I rechecked my victim’s body to confirm his lack of cash, ID, or a little something to eat.
Nothing. Color me not surprised.
I hated killing those as destitute as I, but I refused to harbor guilt over ridding the world of a vampire who hunted homeless teens struggling to survive New York’s harshest streets. While I hoped the kids would survive, I had my doubts.
Miscreants—unclaimed, rogues, or whatever society called the illegal vampires lurking on the streets—couldn’t afford to let their prey live to tell the tale. When found, humans and preternatural alike hunted us to ensure we never bothered anyone again.
Living on borrowed time sucked, as did homelessness. When I found the vampire who’d turned me, I’d take my time draining him. I’d enjoy every swallow. I’d turn his last moments into a masterpiece of brutality.
All I knew was that my maker had been a man, and he’d left some dark mark on me, something that tainted my soul. I could still feel his corrupting influence deep within, a pressure on my heart.
Until I breathed my last for the second time, I’d spend every night seeking him out so I could end his miserable existence. I still wasn’t sure why I’d been targeted or how I’d survived the transition from human to vampire without help. My desire for revenge confirmed one unassailable truth: I was no better than the filth I hunted.
We both lurked in the night, which was only slightly better than sulking at night, my only hobby.
We both broke the rules with our very existence, although I still wasn’t entirely clear on what the rules were.
We both preyed upon the helpless, except I hunted other vampires instead of humans.
I needed to give myself a little more credit. I wasn’t on the right side of the line, but I did better than my miscreant brethren. I scowled at the cold, bloodless body at my feet. Could a vampire of any age be helpless? From the night I’d risen, I’d been stronger, harder to kill, and thirsty enough to drain the world dry. No, vampires weren’t helpless.
While I’d emerged the victor, I’d fought fair enough. He’d hunted well before I’d found him, and his strength bolstered my own. It’d be days before I’d have to hunt again, maybe even as long as a week.
I’d remain hungry, but thirst wouldn’t ride me as it had when I’d first risen.
If I could go a week without killing one of my kind, I’d be happy. Most nights, I blamed myself for my undead state, wishing the miscreants I hunted would get their acts in order and kill me before I killed them. Maybe if I’d been a better, more tolerant person in life, I wouldn’t have been bitten and perverted into the walking dead. I’d had no love for vampires then, and nothing had changed; I’d bordered on hatred for them before I’d risen. Had the choice been mine, I would’ve stayed dead.
But thirst had hit me hard, and I’d crawled from the grave my maker had created for me, aware someone had stripped me of my life and transformed me into a blood-craving monster.
I kicked the lifeless corpse, cursed him for being an even worse monster than I was, and began the second half of my nightly ritual. Unless I wanted to fry to a crisp, I needed to find a new attic to haunt during the day. Exposure to sunlight wasn’t the instant death portrayed in films. If I didn’t mind a nasty burn and facing the fiery pains of hell, I could walk outside during the day for a brief period of time.
When cursed with eternal life, there was no easy way out. I’d tried the usual tricks. A slit wrist healed fast, as did a slit throat. I hadn’t resorted to trying a bullet to the brain yet, but I lacked the strength to stake myself—not that I could even if I wanted to. The instant the wooden tip pierced my skin, paralysis kicked in. Without fail, I lost my hold on the stake, which ultimately fell out, restoring mobility and all bodily functions.
Falling on a stake hadn’t worked well either; it took a lot of force to make a stake penetrate flesh and bone. I’d given up on that tactic after my first agony-filled attempt.
Muttering curses my father would’ve beaten me over, I headed for the one place guaranteed to have abandoned, dusty attics: Harlem. Despite its close proximity to Central Park and the heart of Manhattan, the neighborhood was slowly dying. Within a year or two, it would finish collapsing in on itself, ripe for razing, a carefully choreographed demise at the hands of my father through people like me, lawyers capable of exploiting every loophole in laws prejudiced against all but the wealthy.
My father would enjoy bulldozing and replacing every decrepit building with something new, sleek, and modern. The wealthy, legalized vampires yearned to own homes meant only for them. No matter how much he hated the preternatural, my father meant to profit from them. Harlem would become the first neighborhood designed specifically with vampires in mind with every window darkened for residents and every walkway covered with awnings meant to keep the sun’s searing light from reaching those walking its streets. I’d seen the designs. I’d helped decipher city zoning codes. I’d even meddled with the layouts of sprawling mansions, so they’d be perfect for those willing to pay for them.
I wished I’d paid a little more attention to how the vampires wanted to live; I might’ve learned something important.
But until Harlem crumbled, I’d make the most of everything I’d learned working with my father. I knew his plans. I knew which buildings he wanted most of all. I avoided those, sticking to the worst of the slums even he doubted could be converted without wasting hundreds of millions. Ultimately, he’d have to, but until the properties around Morningside Park fell, I had time.
I ventured north along Amsterdam Avenue towards Manhattanville. The Mink Building was my target. It’d been the first historic building officially abandoned and slated for demolition, but the residents held out, protesting its destruction, making it ideal for my needs.
Someone had gotten the bright idea to trash the streets surrounding the place, making it difficult and annoying to reach without preternatural strength. The busted sewers kept most away with their infernal stench and tendency to flood the trench surrounding the historic landmark.
My luck, such as it was, held. The warm summer weather had dried the protester’s moat some. With one good jump, I could clear the dark, rank fluid and reach the other side without getting my feet wet. I slid down the bank, scrambling so I wouldn’t tumble into the sewage still seeping from the broken pipes. I crouched before leaping to the other side and digging at the jagged concrete to keep my balance.
The streets remained dark and quiet. I scrambled up the incline and headed for the nearest broken window.
In Harlem, all windows were broken, but some were easier to enter through than others without being cut to ribbons on remnants of glass. I cracked away a few pieces before entering, landed on a knee, and tilted my head to listen.
When I’d been a child, I’d heard stories of Harlem and the incessant riffraff and violence plaguing it. The expected gunfire never came, nor did the howl of old cars needing new mufflers. My grave had never been still or quiet, but I expected the Mink Building did a mausoleum some justice.
I rose and explored, heading for the nearest stairwell. The protesters had gone floor by floor, breaking the steps to keep people from using their beloved building. I thought it foolish.
What was the point of destroying the building they wanted to salvage? Did they expect someone to come in and restore it? I found that misguided thought to be likely. People liked clinging to the strangest beliefs.
As I had every morning since I’d climbed out of my own grave, I felt the sun rising deep in my bones, a wearying reminder of who I’d been and what I’d become. It took several tries to jump high enough to reach the broken steps to the second floor, and I left streaks of blood on the rusted metal.
Vampires couldn’t contract tetanus as far as I could tell from my unfortunately frequent exposure to rusted metal, but the cuts still hurt.
The sun had crested the horizon by the time I reached the top floor and it streamed through the broken windows. As I had every night since being turned, I found the darkest corner I could and slept on the floor, hoping I wouldn’t wake up burned as well as hungry.
* * *
Sirens at sunset woke me, close enough I jolted upright, my gaze snapping to the nearest window. Red and blue lights strobed over the brick. I crawled to the opening, peeking through the gaps in the clouded glass.
Protesters, demolitionists, police, and emergency vehicles surrounded the building, which would make leaving tricky at best. I should’ve known; good luck never lasted. All things considered, not getting sewage on my shoes had been the best luck I’d had in a while.
Fuck it. I’d go to hell, prison, and my grave again for it, but I’d need a bottle of wine and a fluffy blanket. I didn’t even know if vampires could get drunk, but I’d find out one way or the other. Actually, fuck the wine. I’d go straight for the gin and vermouth, and I wouldn’t bother with the lime or olive. The alcohols could mix in my stomach as I guzzled straight from the bottles.
I’d never tested my luck to see how far I could jump or how far I could fall. The building across West 127th Street still stood, making it ideal for my needs. With little to lose and everything to gain, I saw no reason not to try. If I died smacking into the sidewalk, well, no one would miss another miscreant.
If I failed, I’d test the limits of vampiric immortality.
Like the rest of the building, the protesters had destroyed the staircase leading to the roof, and they’d been thorough enough I needed to go out a window and climb. Complaining wouldn’t change facts, so I did a circuit of the top floor, found a window that wouldn’t rip me to pieces crawling through it, and tested the bricks.
As expected, they crumbled. I located the sturdiest section of wall, picked a deteriorating brick above it, and made a foothold to give me the leverage needed to make it to the roof. The building’s abandoned state simplified matters for me. As no one expected someone in the building, those gathered below never bothered to look up.
Before I’d been a vampire, I doubted I would’ve had the physical strength required to wiggle up a brick wall and over the ledge onto a flat roof high above a sewage moat. I rolled and sucked in deep breaths through clenched teeth. Despite the number of times I’d pulled similar stunts, I hated how the rotting brick crumbled beneath my fingertips. I absolutely loathed when they shifted under my feet and threatened to dump me to the ground.
I especially abhorred when the wind picked up and howled through the streets of Harlem, doing its best to tear me off the wall. Even at its most gentle, I believed the breeze breathed curses at me for my refusal to give in to its plans.
Had the Mink Building boasted a peaked roof, I wouldn’t have attempted the jump across West 127th street. As it was, the distance worried me. I doubted a human, even an Olympian, could manage such a feat. I’d have no room for error; the buildings were of equal height, and if I missed, I’d bounce off the bricks and splatter to the broken streets below. With my luck, I’d hit one of the law enforcement vehicles or protestors littering the intact sections of the road first.
Either way, I expected my body to be mangled, a blessing in my opinion.
It’d taken me less than a week after death to come to the conclusion I was better off as an unsolved mystery.
Backing up as far as I could go on the roof, I sprinted for the edge, picked my target on the neighboring building, and jumped. Before the terror of hanging in the air could kick in, I smacked into the ledge. Sharp pain tore through my chest, and I slid back before shaking off the stunning impact and scrambling for a hold. I crammed my elbows against the brick, hissing as my skin tore. Jamming my toes into the mortar, I kicked, rolled over onto the roof, and gasped for breath.
No matter how many times in a night I cursed my existence as a vampire, I had to admit there were perks to unlife.
With a low groan, I flopped onto my back to ease the pressure on my chest. The next time I did something stupid like jump from building to building, I’d remember the landing hurt.
I’d also remember to check for signs of life before making the jump.
When I staked a vampire, I went for the chest, hitting hard enough to pierce the skin. The instant sacred wood contacted undead blood, the vampire froze. The best stakes came from ancient trees, the living wood withstanding hundreds of years beneath the light of the sun.
The tip pierced my chest between my breasts, angled to pierce through my heart should the shadowy form holding it decide to finish me. I managed to suck in a single breath before my heart stopped and my blood froze in my veins.
Violet eyes, gleaming in the darkness, stared into mine. My last breath was still warm on my lips, and the evening cool stung my eyes, but I couldn’t even blink.
The figure leaned closer, descending into my field of vision, his smile exposing the elongated fangs of a vampire preparing to feed. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d smiled the same way before drinking until my victims had nothing left to offer me.
Unable to breathe, every moment pulled me towards my second death. It would take five to ten minutes if he let me suffocate, one or two if he opened my jugular and claimed my blood.
It could go either way. I’d never seen a miscreant as well-groomed as him, and I could guess why he’d been granted eternal life after death. Human women would kill to have a chance with a model-pretty man, and undeath had immortalized my captor’s pretty face. No, pretty wasn’t the right word. While he had a softer jaw, he carried with him a sense of age and strength despite his modern suit.
Miscreants never wore suits.
“This one’s too old,” he announced. “Another.”
I wished I could move my eyes; it’d give me a chance to see how many surrounded me if I had a chance to escape.
Someone handed my captor a new stake, a beauty of polished wood gleaming in the moonlight. He eased the tip from my skin long enough I could suck in a labored breath. My heart managed a single, painful beat before he pressed the sharpened wooden tip into my flesh, once again angled towards my heart.
His expression soured, his satisfied smile fading. “Still too old.”
The sirens below quieted, but it wouldn’t save me—nothing would except mercy I wouldn’t ask for even if I could speak.
“She could be an infant. You can overpower her if we try a sapper.”
“Give it to me,” the violet-eyed beauty demanded, holding out his hand.
I’d never carved a stake from a sapling before; I thought it too slender, too flimsy to be dangerous, but the vampire holding me allowed me a single breath again before stabbing me in the chest with the twig.
My body remained frozen, but air flooded into my lungs and my heart thudded back to life. I shuddered.
I hadn’t known I could be staked but live and breathe, hostage to the wood’s power.
My captor chuckled, and he placed the older, thicker stake on the roof beside me. “That’s better. Excellent. How old was the wood, Ben?”
“A branch from a yearling.”
“I doubt she’s even a year old, then. All right, young lady. As I’d rather not hold a stake to your heart all night long, I have a special present for you. You won’t like it, but it beats being actually staked, doesn’t it?”
I wasn’t so sure, but I couldn’t force my lips to move to tell him to take his stake and shove it up his ass.
Ben proved to be another vampire, closer to what I expected from my brethren but cleaner. He wore denim from head to toe with a black leather hat tipped forward enough to obscure all but his mouth and his pronounced incisors. “Needle, manacles, or cuffs?”
“Let’s use the cuffs. The sapper’s pliable enough to circle her wrist with the leather. If that’s too strong for her, we’ll carry her to the car. I’d rather not draw any extra unwanted attention. It was difficult enough flushing her out.”
They’d flushed me out? My chosen escape route hadn’t been my only option. It’d been one of the more dangerous ones, too. I could’ve stayed put and hidden in the ruins of the Mink Building for the entire night without anyone being the wiser to my presence.
I’d been careful about the vampires I targeted. They preyed on humans. They lived in the shadows. I never touched humans.
Ben stepped out of my field of vision and left me alone with the handsome vampire, who held the slender stake against my chest with a steady hand. While I waited, I memorized every feature from his perfect nose to the gentle curve of his throat.
Unlike me, he looked like he never missed a meal or a session at the gym.
“My name’s Emerick Lowrance, and I don’t know who your master is, but he will pay for your crimes.”
As killing other vampires likely counted as a crime despite them preying on humans, I couldn’t deny someone needed to pay. I’d chosen my prey. I’d stalked them, confirmed their sins against humans, and drank away their lives so I might live. If my tongue ever became my own, I would protest. And when I did, I would add Emerick Lowrance to my shortlist of vampires I hated above all else for assigning guilt to the innocent.
My so-called master wasn’t innocent of much as far as I was concerned, but he hadn’t committed my crimes for me. Once I found the fanged bastard, I’d add to my sins and rid the Earth of him.
Ben approached. “I found a different sapper to try and weaved it into the cuff.”
“You’ll regret it if you fight this,” Emerick warned, and he lifted the stake from my chest.
Running wouldn’t win me anything, not when I gasped to catch my breath and my chest throbbed from the exposure to sun-kissed wood. I doubted I’d be able to roll over the ledge without someone giving me a push.
Emerick grabbed my arm, lifting so Ben could wrap a leather cuff around my wrist, which had a strip of pale wood laced around its edge. Like the stake had done, the cuff weakened me, ensuring either of my captors could overpower me with ease.
Magic. Only magic could turn a polished strip of wood into a restraint. I’d handled stakes from ancient trees without them ripping away my strength and reducing me to the fragility of a human.
No, even a human could defeat me without much effort.
“Other cuff,” Emerick ordered, releasing my arm.
My hand flopped to the roof, and I stared at it, aware I should’ve done something other than stare at the black leather and pale wood.
“With all due respect, perhaps see if she can walk with just one first?” Ben slid a finger beneath the cuff to check my pulse. “Her heart rate is elevated.”
Emerick huffed. “Of course her heart rate is elevated. Even a light staking does that. Are you going to cooperate, lady?”
I tested my tongue, and upon discovering it obeyed me, I licked my lips to wet them so I could speak. “Do I have a choice?”
“No. You don’t.”
“If you’re going to stake me, just get it over with.” I kept still, my body tense as I waited for Emerick to decide my fate. The dangerous hope he might put me to my final rest stirred. Nothing else had worked.
Maybe I could goad the other vampire into doing it.
“Just as humans don’t execute infants for being young and making mistakes, we don’t do such things to our infants, either. All your crimes belong to your master for not teaching you how to behave. Granted, had you hunted humans, your body would already be cold and in preparation for your final grave. But you’ve never drunk from a human, have you?”
Fury granted me the strength needed to sit up, but I doubted I’d be able to stand without help. “Never.”
Emerick narrowed his eyes, reached for me, and pressed his fingers to my throat, checking my pulse. If he wanted to strangle me, he could with ease. “Your master should have taught you better than that already. We are what we are, and we drink human blood. There are plenty of willing donors for all of us. Betray your master now. It will make things easier on you.”
“So you can get to him and kill him first?” I lifted my chin, determined to hold onto my pride until the bitter end. “I don’t think so.”
Emerick’s brows rose. “You would kill your master?”
My fury bloomed into a boiling rage, spilling from my lips in a low growl.
Ben grabbed my unbound wrist and wrapped the second cuff around it. “I changed my mind. With her hissing mad, let’s not take any chances.”
“You would kill your master?” Emerick repeated, his tone demanding I answer him.
I defied him with my silence, baring my fangs at him.
“Just because you treat your new children well doesn’t mean other masters do. Perhaps she’s been abused. I would want to kill you if you had abused me in my infancy. You hadn’t, of course. But had you, I would react the same. It’s natural to turn against those who have hurt us.” While Ben kept his tone mild, respectful on the surface, something about the vampire’s expression led me to believe he toed a dangerous line and tested Emerick’s authority.
Emerick’s attention snapped from me to Ben. “What proof have you? That she is as you think?”
“A guess, Master. Nothing more. But that sort of anger, strong enough she fights despite being cuffed as she is, says more angers her than a broken nail or having missed breakfast.”
“Is he right, lady?”
“What’s it to you?” I demanded. “You’re not my master.”
“But I will be. It’ll be easier on you if you cooperate. I can make it pleasant, or you can make it difficult. But as your master is incapable of controlling you, you will be taken from him and taught how to be one of us. Proper vampires do not scurry the night streets of New York like vermin. Consider yourself fortunate there are many who like what you’ve done despite your inclination to scurry among the other vermin. You chose your prey well. I’ll give you that much. You chose very well. Your choices saved your life this night. Instead of torturing and killing you to draw your master out, I will steal you from him and make you mine. Either way, he’s drawn out. This way, I’m strengthened with your presence within my brood.”
I considered Emerick, my anger ebbing beneath the pressure of unanswered questions.
Of my questions, one stood out more than the others, relevant to everything I’d done since becoming a vampire. “You call them vermin. The miscreants who lurk on the streets.”
“We call them a lot of things,” Emerick corrected. “Miscreants is a new one, but I like it. No, officially, they’re fugitives. Lawbreakers who have violated the sacred rules of our kind and the rules of humans. They are outcast by all and wanted for their crimes. You haven’t been classified as a fugitive yet. You haven’t violated any of our sacred rules, and while we care nothing for the laws of humans, things will become difficult for you if you’ve broken any. As your master, it will be my responsibility to resolve any such issues and handle your punishments according to vampire laws. Putting a thirsty vampire in general holding wouldn’t end well for the humans.”
His smile intrigued yet chilled me. No matter what I said, I’d reveal my ignorance. The tabloids and news implied vampires lived by a set of rules, and I’d been led to believe they took those rules seriously.
“Do you have nothing to say?”
“Why should I believe anything you say?”
In life, my tongue had gotten me into trouble often enough, although I’d learned to rein it in during business hours and leave most of my barbs for the privacy of my apartment, my haven from my father’s world of fame and fortune. Then, I would’ve been eager to place the blame on anyone other than myself, but clawing my way out of a shallow grave had done more than change my body.
Even if I found a way to reverse unlife, I could never return to the woman I’d once been.
Emerick and Ben stared, and the so-called master’s eyes narrowed while his companion’s widened. As they had the first time I’d seen them, Emerick’s violet eyes drew me in and demanded my undivided attention.
“What is your master’s name?” Emerick demanded.
His question cut into me as sharp and unyielding as the stakes he’d used to immobilize me. The cuffs weighed me down, and I strained to remain upright. I lifted my right hand, which shook. The scars of where I’d cut myself rising from my grave marred my palm. Those scars offered hope that immortality was a lie like so much else I’d believed about the preternatural.
“Master,” Ben murmured, and something in his tone drew Emerick’s gaze away from me.
I breathed easier without his focus on me.
“What?”
“She might be one of them.” I glanced through my lashes to discover Ben stared at the thin, pale scars crisscrossing my hand. “She can’t obey your order because she doesn’t know. She wants to kill him because he left her in a shallow grave to die like the others.”
Emerick’s violet eyes dulled, the color bleeding away to black. “Is that true, lady?”
His tone demanded an answer, and unlike with his other questions, I could tell him the truth. Something cold and relentless wrapped around my heart and squeezed the longer I delayed answering. “Yes,” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“Well.” Ben rose to his feet and dusted his jeans off. “This just became complicated.”
* * *
The cuffs did more than steal my strength. They ate away at my will, and I struggled to keep my secrets my own, but Emerick wore me down until his words became law. He began with questions I couldn’t answer. I remembered nothing of how I’d become a vampire.
That bothered both men, and I wasn’t sure why.
Then he asked me questions I could answer, but my answers displeased him as much as my ignorance.
I knew nothing about those I’d hunted beyond their crimes. Without his prying, I might’ve forgotten I’d stalked one of my victims for over a week before confirming his guilt and draining him dry. That I’d taken so much blood astounded both vampires.
I wanted to ask questions of my own, but the few times I’d tried, the words stuck in my throat.
When Emerick demanded I stand, I couldn’t without help. Once on my feet, I swayed. Without Ben’s hold on my arm, I would’ve slid back to the rooftop.
Emerick took hold of my chin and lifted my head, forcing me to stare into his eyes, still darker than the night. “A Lowrance vampire is a prideful vampire. I would remember that if I were you. Am I understood?”
“Yes,” my traitorous tongue replied. “I understand.”
“Good. It would be better if you walk to the car under your own steam. You may not be mine yet, but you will be.”
One question he left unasked, and I wondered if he thought I’d volunteer the name given to me at birth but abandoned when I’d become everything I’d been raised to hate. Pride demanded I try to walk, but my feet refused to cooperate. Ben kept me upright, and his strength alone would’ve revealed his preternatural nature had I not spotted his fangs.
They’d shrunken since he’d bound me with the cuffs. Mine never shrank, and I stared at his mouth, stumbling when he continued to pull me along.
“Ask your question,” Emerick ordered.
While embarrassed I’d been caught in the act, curiosity got the better of me. “His teeth shrank.”
Ben halted, and he glanced towards his master, who chuckled. “He’s not agitated, thirsty, or hungry. Strong emotions can elongate them as well. The older you become as a vampire, the faster the transition is. Stress can elongate them as well. Open your mouth.”
Flustered that he wanted to look at my teeth, I hesitated before doing as told. While I showed him my fangs, I hissed at him for treating me like an animal up for sale.
My defiance amused him, and Emerick took hold of my chin, lifting my upper lip with his thumb for a better look at my fangs. “In vampires brought up the traditional way, it’s possible to judge age by the development of your fangs. Adverse conditions can cause problems down the road, although your teeth seem to have emerged relatively unscathed. The length is good.”
Emerick pressed his thumb to my fang. A violet gleam brightened his dark eyes. He pressed the ball of his thumb to the tip hard enough to draw blood, which splashed onto my tongue, sweet instead of metallic, sharp, and sour like I expected.
I fought the urge to suck on his thumb for another taste. To keep myself from falling to the temptation, I jerked my head to the side. My heart pounded, and I swallowed until the need to latch onto him and drink subsided.
“Decent control, too. I look forward to taking you from your maker. The night is still young. Carry her down the stairs, Ben. She can walk to the car from the ground floor. Her taking a tumble would ruin my plans.”
Ben raised a brow. “You have a plan?”
“I do now,” Emerick replied with a faint smile.
* * *
The cuffs reduced me to a semi-conscious mess. Still, I somehow managed to make it to the car, a sleek, four-door luxury vehicle my father would’ve appreciated. Ben guided me to the back seat, helped me in, and slid behind the wheel. Emerick closed my door, circled the vehicle, and joined me in the back. When I didn’t buckle my seatbelt, he did it for me.
The criticism I expected didn’t come. Ben started the car, reversed until he could turn around without risk of dumping the vehicle into a hole, and approached a cordon of police cars blocking people from approaching the Mink Building and surrounding properties.
Ben didn’t have to wait long before they let him through, and when he eased the vehicle through the blockade, one of the cops thumped the roof. Ben stopped and rolled down the window. “Chief,” he greeted.
“Good hunting?” I’d never met a Chief of Police before, but the older man seemed worn and tired to me.
“Indeed.”
“Master Lowrance,” the chief greeted.
“Chief Owens,” Emerick replied.
“So, this is the woman responsible for all the fuss?”
Emerick chuckled. “I’d hardly call it a fuss. She didn’t even put up a fight, which is why she’s cuffed instead of staked. You’re going to need to have more men on the ground to deal with the surge of fugitives, however. I suspect incidents will be on the rise with her off the streets.”
“She’s the one who’s been taking out the fugitives?”
“She is. In a few days, you can send someone to the estate for questioning, but until she’s settled, I’d rather not take any risks. She’s not acclimated to interacting with humans of any stripe.”
“Loner?”
“Set loose by an irresponsible maker,” Emerick growled.
“Another one?”
“Indeed.”
“If you get a lead on the master, call me. I’ve got a task force in the works itching for a good hunt.”
Emerick smirked. “Is your task force ready to handle a few test runs? I have a few in the brood who’d love to play a game of cat and mouse with your officers. Just make sure they’re not squeamish about being bitten. They’ll take a drink or two to remind your humans why they need to be the absolute best.”
The chief grunted. “I’ll call you. When’s good?”
“Tomorrow night. I owe you a favor for putting this together. How many of my brood will you want?”
“As many as you can spare. I need this team ready to deal with an entire brood if necessary. If they’re training with your vampires, they’ll be prepared.” Chief Owens glanced at me. “Think your new girl will be up for joining the hunt? I’d like to see her take out a fugitive myself.”
“I have a recording. You can visit in person instead of call if you’d like to have a look. As for her joining the team, I’ll see after she’s integrated with my brood. It all depends on how long it takes for her to transition.”
“Sounds good. Midnight tomorrow?”
“I’ll let the guards know you’ll be paying me a visit, and I’ll call you if I need to change the time. Midnight should be all right, but I need to get my little lady settled first. Take care of yourself around those protestors, Chief Owens.”
“They’re all bark and no bite tonight. I’m tossing them a bone to make them feel like they accomplished something for a change.”
“A temporary stay on demolition?”
“Conditional to them letting the street workers renovate the sewer system. Either their moat or the building goes. The construction workers won’t touch the building as long as their efforts to dig up the streets and handle mass repairs remain unimpeded. The instant they start protesting the construction, the Mink Building comes down at the order of its new owner, who already has the permits to begin demolition. He also has the permits to do a full renovation and restoration should other plans for Harlem go uninterrupted.”
Of the contenders for the Mink Building, my father was the kind of man to cook up such an underhanded scheme, spending millions to save millions down the road. To him, time and money were birds of a feather, and a six-month delay would cost him more than paying the ridiculous amount required to gut the Mink Building and renovate its interior while preserving its exterior.
Emerick drummed his fingers against his knee. “What am I going to owe you for that gem?”
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
Ben waited until Chief Owens stepped away from the vehicle before navigating through a maze of parked cars, metal cordons, and protestors doing their best to preserve a part of their dying heritage.
In their determination to cling to the Mink Building, they’d lose a lot more than one historic building. I gave it a year before Harlem transformed from a ghetto to a construction zone. Once the infrastructure was complete, the sewers and other foundation work repaired to my father’s satisfaction, the entire neighborhood would become a haven for vampires. At first, it would appear safe.
I knew better, as did my father’s other attorneys.
“That’s an interesting expression,” Emerick murmured, relaxing into his seat. “What do you know that I don’t?”
“What makes you think I know anything you don’t?”
“I’ve been around women for hundreds of years. That is the expression of a woman who knows something, has learned a new piece of important intelligence, and is trying to figure out what to do about it. I might be old and old-fashioned, but I’ve learned it’s unwise to underestimate the fairer gender.” Emerick’s tone turned wry. “Never has there been a worse misnomer. Women do not play fair because the only way they can succeed when the cards are stacked against them is to employ their cunning to win. That’s a dangerous situation we men have created for ourselves. We simply refuse to learn.”
I shrugged. “They might win the battle for the Mink Building, but they’ll lose the war. Revitalizing the base infrastructure of the area will let the builders complete other projects.”
“You’re even more interesting than I imagined. Why do you think there are other projects in the works?”
I needed to be careful, else the vampires would clue in I knew more about the situation than some miscreant out on the streets should. “Harlem’s a ghost town. I’ve been living here because few humans are brave enough to stick around, and the fugitives are too scared they’ll be discovered by contractors preparing for demolitions. It seems obvious to me.”
“It’s not as obvious as you seem to believe. But yes, you’re correct. Most of the humans have left Harlem, and the preternatural foolish enough to stay run a higher risk of being caught every night, just like we caught you. Of course, we were specifically looking for you, which made a difference.”
“How did you find me?”
“I had you followed after your last kill, watched where you went, and kept the location monitored. I asked Chief Owens to put together a cordon to make it harder for you to escape and hoped you picked the easiest route for a vampire to leave the Mink Building. You did as I expected, although I overestimated your jumping ability. You came quite close to missing the roof altogether. We’ll need to work on that. For someone capable of taking out fugitives without help, your physical condition is alarmingly poor. You shouldn’t have had any trouble making that jump.”
“Great. Vampires are the humanoid equivalent of jumping spiders.”
When Emerick said nothing, Ben snickered. “That’s one way to think about it. Yes, we are. We’re ambush predators. While we can run fast, our ability to jump is what gives us an edge in combat against other preternatural. You’ll learn.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. “Why?”
Emerick chuckled and shook his head. “No matter how you were turned, you’re a vampire now. As such, you must learn. Tonight, you’ll be spared from further education. You require a bath before I begin the process of taking you from your maker. As you’re cooperating, I’ll make it as pleasant for you as possible. It depends on how tightly you’re bonded to him. I won’t know until I locate his mark and take you from him. We shall see soon enough.”
“Will it hurt?”
“It might. It depends on how stubborn your maker is. Mark my words, lady. Should this hurt you, it is the fault of your maker for refusing to let you go into better hands. We shall see his mettle—and yours—soon enough.”
I could handle a little pain with pride, and no matter how much it hurt, no vampire would get any satisfaction from me. “Will it hurt him?”
“Indeed.”
“What would I have to do to make it as painful as possible for him?”
“That would only make it hurt you more.”
I stared into Emerick’s dark eyes. “How?”
“Fight me when I take you from him. That is how you make my victory sweeter and his suffering worse.”
Some invitations I couldn’t refuse. “Do your worst, vampire.”
“Most would be afraid in your shoes.”
“My shoes are battered and broken. If killing me would kill him, then I would carve the stake to save you the hassle and hope you made it as brutal as possible to make his last moments hell.”
“That would be a waste, and I dislike waste. But I can promise this much: this is only the beginning.”
I liked the sound of that.
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