Chapter 1

Her stomach knotted at the sight: the position of the bodies and the chaos of the room. But, worst of all—the thing that would give her nightmares—was the look on the children’s faces, smeared with blood, as they grinned at their dead parents.

“Damn shame, huh?” someone said behind her. “I thought this was supposed to be against their rules—turning little kids.”

“It is,” Alex muttered as she pushed her way through the agents while they documented the scene. But when she reached the couch, a strange sense of déjà vu came over her. It was all too familiar.

His bulky body was blanched and perched awkwardly on the faux leather couch; its light-colored pillows stained dark with his blood. Of the two victims, he had definitely gotten the worst of it. While one had fed from his neck, the other had ripped through both wrists like a chainsaw. And he was beyond bled dry. Alex could see the outline of his skeleton against his shrink-wrapped skin.

From the looks of it, the mother had come through the front door and dropped her groceries outright when she saw the carnage. Her shoes were covered in smashed fruit and spilled milk—drag marks paved the way to where she was now.

Alex pulled on a sterile glove as she made her way closer to the body. She couldn’t help but notice the sick similarities to scenes from the past, years before, in times she had hoped were long gone.

It was Tristan’s twisted idea of fun. Turn the children and send them after their own parents. His signature catch-me-if-you-can move. The sick bastard.

Was he here? Was he close? she wondered as she watched the dark blood congeal on the couch; its smell coated her nostrils then planted itself in her brain.

“Why do you think they trashed him so badly but left her almost pristine?” one of the agents asked as she snapped pictures of the scene.

Alex glanced at her. It was a good question. She turned her attention to the dead woman, the mother, sitting so very still in her rocking chair in the far corner of the room.

The woman’s hands, stained with blood that traveled down from her wounds, lay in her lap, almost peacefully, as if resting. Alex could tell from the pattern of bloodstains and the way it was smeared after congealing that one of them had brushed her hair and reapplied her makeup after her death. Maybe in a childish attempt to make her look alive. Some last, tragic moment of humanity that flickered in their almost dead hearts.

“They loved her,” Alex said softly, but loud enough to be heard by the agent.

“Love?” The agent hummed. “You buy your mother flowers when you love her, not bleed her to death.”

Alex turned to the agent and motioned toward the father. “Him? No love lost there,” she sighed with a shake of her head.

Another gruesome memory popped to the surface. Something about the father and the savageness of his death brought to her mind a small town in Utah. The father there had been torn up just like this one. But not a biological father—a step-father.

The mother had been fed on as one of them sat in her lap. That was clear. It would have been the smaller one, the younger one, the boy, held in her lap. The marks were a deep purple color against her blanched skin. The boy had tapped the vein in the bend of her elbow—a hellish mockery of a nursing child.

In her mind’s eye, the chair rocked back and forth as the boy guzzled his first meal as a vampire. What did he care that his mother’s life spilled from his small mouth to the beige carpet? The mundane trappings of modern life meant nothing to a fledging vampire as he sated the first pangs of a thirst that would last the rest of his unnaturally extended life.

“So they hated their father,” another agent said. “What else is new?”

“I don’t think he’s their father,” Alex said as she looked around, absorbing more and more information from the scene. Her eyes trailed down from the body perched in the rocker to the pool of mostly dried blood at her feet. She stopped when she saw another clue: footprints—two sets.

“She’s wearing a wedding band,” the agent replied. “And it matches his.”

The agent’s words drew her attention away from the prints. “So? That’s doesn’t mean he was their father,” Alex replied with a quick glance toward the young vampires.

All along the walls were pictures of the woman and the two children, but without the man. In contrast, on the mantle was a wedding picture of the two adults without the children.

The wedding looked simple, even with the exotic Hawaiian locale. Lush and green beyond description, the mountains behind the bride and groom filled the background. No fancy dress or giant cake.

He was probably her second marriage, Alex surmised. Maybe it had been a second marriage for both of them.

“See those pictures?” she asked with a nod toward the wall. “They’re still hung, perfectly straight and clean.”

“So?”

“So, look around you. Those pictures are of the mother and the kids.”

“And . . .?”

Alex pointed to floor around the couch. “See those pictures, the ones with the man in them?”

“Yeah.”

“They ripped those to shreds.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not their father,” the agent replied. “Maybe he was beating them, or worse.” The agent frowned as she picked up a crumpled piece of a picture, still covered in blood.

“He’s not their father,” Alex stated firmly. “How did you catch this case anyway?”

They stepped closer to the man’s body, and Alex examined the neck wounds—one on either side. They didn’t match. On the laminate floor around the couch were bloody prints of the nine-year-old boy’s bare feet, the thirteen-year-old girl’s flip flops, and another set—slightly smaller than the father’s, but not quite as small as the mother’s.

“The mother works for Strategic,” she answered. “Dr. Carlisle made her the Executive Assistant to the Head of Field Ops here just last month.”

Alex stared at the wedding pictures again. That would explain their Hawaiian wedding. If she was in field assignments, then she was making big bucks. It would explain why Tristan chose her too.

“Those footprints there,” Alex turned back to her discovery in front of the rocking chair. “They match those by the couch.”

The agent turned to one set then the other but didn’t seem to grasp the significance of what Alex was telling her. Then a glint of recognition blinked in her eyes.

“They had help,” she grinned and nodded.

They looked to where the giggly children sat—hands cuffed behind their backs—against the opposite wall. One of them would lead her to the third one.

“Where’s the other one?” Alex asked coldly as she walked over to them.

“Other what?” the girl giggled as she bumped her little brother.

“The other kid,” Alex said between clenched teeth.

They looked at each other, shrugged, and then burst out into high-pitched, childish laughter. Alex looked at the children for a moment, watching them laugh. Remorseless. Twisted.

They aren’t really children any longer, she told herself as she pushed down the revulsion and pity turning in her gut.

A thought occurred to her. She picked up the evidence bag, lying nearby, and pulled out old airline tickets and the man’s wallet. She thumbed through the cards until she found what she was looking for. Sandwiched between his AmEx and an old arcade card was a picture of a kid. His red hair was messy but clean, and the braces on his teeth looked brand new.

“Who is this?” Alex demanded as she held up the picture to the monstrous siblings.

“Ronnie,” the boy squealed just before his sister bumped him, hard. “Ow! He’s Chuck’s kid,” he finished softly, frowning at his sister.

“Was he looking after you while they were in Hawaii?” Alex asked as the knot in her stomach tightened. Tristan got to Ronnie, somehow, and then he turned them.

“Yeah, so?” the girl sneered.

She looked around again. All the drapes were drawn, pinned together, and taped on each side. Along the top, more duct tape sealed the fabric to the wall. There was no sunlight in this room, at all. There was even a pocket door that separated this room from the kitchen, with its big bay window that would fill that room with warm sunlight in the mornings.

“What happened when you tried to leave this room?”

They looked at each other then back at Alex.

“The sun burned us,” the boy whined.

The agents parted as Alex moved quickly toward the pocket door. She slid it open, but the light only reached so far into the room. As long as the children didn’t venture too close to the threshold, they wouldn’t be burned by the light.

Alex tossed the wallet at the woman. “Check all the rooms—be careful. He could still be here somewhere.”

The agent flipped the picture over. “Why would he still be here?”

“Because they can’t go out into the light—not yet. They’re newly turned and haven’t had the fake stuff. He’ll be close.”

The agent grinned at the picture, “He shouldn’t be hard to find if he’s hiding from the sun.”

“Then find him,” Alex barked.

The woman turned and left without another word. Two other agents followed behind her. After a few seconds, Alex could hear them as they searched through the rooms, as things fell to the floor and glass broke. Strategic would foot the bill for anything that needed to be replaced, if anyone actually showed to bury these two.

“Who did this?” Alex asked the children again. This time, her voice was laced with steel, but they just laughed again. “Answer me!”

“We did,” the girl answered, a smile on her young lips. “Are you slow or something, lady?” More laughter from the two newly born vampires. She didn’t have time for this shit.

Alex knelt down in front of the little monsters and looked up at the guard. He nodded. Without a word, he pulled out his gun and pointed it at the girl’s head.

“Not to them,” Alex replied. “Who did this to Ronnie?”

The gun had an effect. It always did. “Our new father,” the girl said hastily.

Her brother nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Chuck the Schmuck deserved it anyway.”

“Why?” Alex asked over their nervous laughter.

“Because he was a schmuck,” the boy rolled his eyes at Alex. “You are slow.”

“And what about your mother? Was she a schmuck too?” Alex asked.

The children’s giggles stopped cold, and they glared at Alex. She could hear the growl in the back of their throats like animals. It was nothing at all like a childish imitation of a growl. This was the real thing.

“Don’t talk about our mom like that, bitch,” the girl spat as her top lip curled to reveal a nice set of new fangs. “She was the best mom ever!”

“She couldn’t have been that good,” Alex said innocently. She wanted to fan the flames—get one of them to tell her something useful. “After all, you killed her.”

They lunged at the same time, quick as snakes. But Alex was faster. She grabbed them both by their necks and slammed them back into the wall. Each of them struggled, writhing under her grip for a long moment, even with their hands handcuffed behind them. They both showed surprise at her strength before calming from exhaustion. When they were calm again, Alex handed the boy to the guard but kept the girl pressed against the wall for a moment longer.

“What did Ronnie tell you about your new father?” Alex asked. Her voice was calm, but her heart raced in her chest.

“Just that he was rich and powerful,” the girl replied. “And he would take better care of us than Chuck ever could. And we’d be young and powerful forever, just like him.”

“What’s his name?”

She shrugged, shook her head. Streaked in electric blue wash-out hair dye, her stringy blonde hair was caked in blood and oil. It hadn’t been washed in a few days, judging from the smell.

“When is he coming for you?” Alex continued to keep the timbre of her voice calm.

The girl kept quiet, her lips one thin line as she pressed them together. Alex grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her across the sticky wooden floor toward the big front windows. She pulled the heavy drape to one side. The tape that held it closed ripped loose, taking paint flakes with it. When Alex held the girl’s foot in the sharp rays of mid-afternoon sunlight, she screamed as her flesh began to sizzle and blister.

“When?” Alex repeated as she held the drapes closed again.

As her brother yelled and struggled with two agents across the room, the girl roared and cried while her injured foot smoked. Before the last blister sealed itself again, Alex stuck her foot back in the light.

“I don’t know! I swear,” the girl screamed and wiggled to get loose.

“Stop it! Stop it!” the boy yelled from across the room.

Alex let the girl drag herself into the cool shadow again, but she followed. When she stopped, the girl curled into the fetal position then blew on her charred foot.

“You know something. And you will tell me, or I’m going to throw both of you into the sun.”

They glared at Alex, and their animal growls filled the room. The sound vibrated off the walls then down Alex’s spine. The boy rolled his eyes up then back at Alex.

She slipped off her jacket, dropped it to the floor, then stepped back into the center of the room. Just then, she felt his presence above her. Absent of any kind of remorse for what he’d done, she felt his anger and hunger settle around her like a curtain.

He crashed through the ceiling like he’d been shot from a cannon. Sheetrock exploded everywhere as the people in the room scattered in all directions. The ceiling fan just missed Alex as she rolled out of the way. The children yelled as they were pulled away by the agents. When he landed, crouched low and growling, Alex rolled to her feet with a death grip on the silver blade she had pulled from the sheath on her thigh.

“Let me guess,” she smirked at the boy. “You must be Ronnie.”

His long new fangs dropped slowly as he smiled. His red hair was still messy, but now it was dirty, and, like his clothes, covered in dust from the attic and blood from the scene. The dank smell of old boxes and sweat grabbed at her lungs and she almost lost her breakfast. When he shook his head like a wet dog, the muck flew out toward her.

“And you must be my next meal,” he laughed.

He was about her height, but the portly build he had when he was human had been transformed slightly. Now he could break through solid sheetrock, wood framing, and possibly a brick wall if he wanted. Ronnie scanned the room as if doing a body count for later.

“Don’t get too excited,” Alex replied. “We just need some information from you, and then these nice people will take you and your brother and sister somewhere to get you some help.”

“We don’t need help,” he glared at her. “You do!”

His razor-sharp nails cut through the air in front of her nose as Alex jumped back. The momentum put his back to her long enough for her to get him into a chokehold. But Ronnie had other plans. Two powerful elbows to her solar plexus and he was out of her grip and up the far wall like a spider monkey on caffeine.

The children cheered him on as he clung to the wall above them.

Alex clenched her teeth against the pain. “Get them out of here!”

The agents did as they were told. The children were pushed into a small bathroom as they yelled and cheered. With the sound of squealing children muted, just enough to take the edge off, Alex could concentrate on Ronnie. She stepped closer as he stayed glued to the corner of the ceiling.

“Come on, Ron,” Alex tried to grin. “Don’t make this hard on yourself.”

He laughed, and sheetrock dust trickled down on her head. As he slid down to the floor again, his laughter stopped, and the creature inside him surfaced. She could see the weak muscles in his arms and shoulders expand and bulk. His beautiful green eyes turned black as his fangs extended to their full fighting length.

“This ain’t gonna be hard on me,” he growled as he rolled his head around like a boxer ready for a prize fight. “You, on the other hand . . . beat down time! Can’t you see how strong I am? I’m a superhero!”

Alex could remember that feeling: the thrilling rush of it, how all of your muscles pulsed with it all at once, the taste of pure vampire blood. Not even she was immune to it, as she’d found out the hard way.

“You’re not a superhero. You’re just a kid that has been violated in the worst possible way, and, for that, I’m sorry. When you come down, it’s not going to feel so good, trust me,” she said.

“Come down? I’m never coming down,” Ronnie laughed. “He said I never have to come down!”

Alex stepped closer, and he moved back. Could he feel her power too? Did he know she was different? “He lied. Tell me who he is and I can finish this, finish him.”

Ronnie’s roundhouse kick sent Alex into the bookcase behind her. As the cheap romance novels and self-help books tumbled down around her, she slammed a hardcover into his face as he charged. His prominent nose broke as he fell back onto the coffee table with a loud bang.

She tried to avoid using the blade. It was pure silver and would hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. The only time she used it was to kill, and she really didn’t want to kill this kid if she didn’t have to. This wasn’t his fault. Not really.

“He didn’t lie,” he cried as he snapped the bone back into place. When he spat out his own blood, the clot landed in the dad’s hair. “He loves me, and I’m going to be at his side forever!”

Alex shook her head and he growled as he charged again. He swung wildly at her, but she could tell he was losing his energy. He needed to feed again soon.

“Who is he, Ronnie?”

He laughed as he wiggled his hips and smiled at her. “My stepsister calls him ‘Magic Mike’.”

Creed must be completely insane to do this on her turf. She tried not to punch this kid in his grimy face as she stepped closer.

“Tell me where he is.”

“Close,” Ronnie smiled. “I can feel him.” He licked his bloody lips. “If I bring you to him, I’ll be rewarded! Maybe he’ll let me keep you for a while.”

It was Alex’s turn to laugh. Creed did not like to share, and she was not ever going to be some turned child’s toy. If anything, Creed would try to keep her for his own personal amusement. She knew that for sure.

“You are not up to this, kid,” she smiled at him.

“Let’s see,” he smiled back and picked up the leg from the broken coffee table. Swinging it like a bat, lamps and vases shattered in his wake. He moved her backward.

“I don’t really want to hurt you,” she sighed as she felt the heat of the setting sun at her back. The kitchen would be filled with natural light in just a few minutes, then night would fall again. “But I will if you make me.”

Ronnie threw the table leg like a spear. It sailed past her head and buried in the wall. They traded punches and kicks, then she cut the back of his hand with the silver blade.

“Damn! That hurt,” he barked as the cut sizzled, scorched from the silver.

“It’s supposed to hurt.”

He studied his hand, licked the wound, then spat. “That is gross!” A little puff of smoke came out.

He lunged at her, fangs fully extended as his hands reached for her throat. She dropped to her butt then her back. When she extended her legs, Ronnie was pushed into the sunlight of the kitchen. She jumped to her feet as he screamed. Once he landed on the kitchen table, his clothes burst into flames as did the rest of him. In a few seconds, he was ash then a giant black stain on the wooden table.

“Damn,” Alex groaned as she picked up her jacket.

“Now what?” one of the agents asked.

“Clean this up,” she answered as she opened the front door.

The sky was a brilliant orange canvas of light that would give birth to a clear, starry night. On the way back home, she’d pick up two bottles of tequila; she was going to need both to drown the bad dreams.

As she made her way back home through light traffic, Alex cursed Ramsey for the 911 text to come to this scene. Ever since she had taken over the Tracker team, the brief time between work and sleep was occupied by his attempt to exert control over her like never before.

Access to classified files was the trade-off. Now that she was completely back inside, she could request information previously deemed “need-to-know” before. As a temporary agent with a specific project, Alex didn’t need to know what the Trackers had been up to over last few years. Her assignment was clearly defined and restricted to bringing in the test subjects for evaluation. She’d almost finished that job when all of this came up.

Her phone buzzed in the hands-free holder attached to a speaker. She tapped the answer button on the steering wheel.

“How’d it go?” Ramsey’s familiar polished tone boomed. “Anything interesting to report?”

“One of the company’s Executive Assistants and her new husband were murdered,” Alex replied as she came to a stop at the traffic light. “Your team is bringing in their two children.”

“Why?” Ramsey harped. “We’re not a daycare center.”

As traffic moved again, she rolled her eyes. “The children killed them.”

“Oh,” he sighed. “I still don’t understand why we can’t let the kids go to the local authorities.”

“They were turned and killed their parents,” Alex huffed. “That’s why.”

She thought she heard a low snicker come from the line, but why would he laugh at that? The whole situation was messed up, and she wished she could get to the truth some other way.

“How old are the kids?” he finally asked. In the background, she heard a rapid typing sound.

“I have no idea,” Alex replied. “Maybe eight and twelve or so, I guess. The oldest one was around sixteen.”

“What? Wait, I thought you said there were two of them,” Ramsey snipped.

“There are now,” Alex stated. “I had to dust the oldest.”

Now she was sure he was laughing. His snicker reached her ears; she wanted to reach through the phone and rip out his throat.

“Of course you did. What would an investigation be without you killing someone?”

“Look,” Alex hissed as she snatched the phone free. “He turned his brother and sister and watched as they killed their parents. He was not coming with us without a fight.”

“We’ll get a story on the local news by morning,” Ramsey replied. “Nothing too dramatic. House fire should do the trick.” More typing. “Looks like they just moved in, so no nosy neighbors to wonder about the activity around the house.”

Alex remembered a cable television van and a moving truck out front. All the people around the house were pretty much ignored. She wasn’t too keen on them setting a fire, but anything else would raise too many flags. Couldn’t have the neighbors thinking a serial killer was on the loose or anything.

“What will you do with the kids?” she asked.

“See if they can identify the idiot vampire who turned them,” Ramsey answered. “After that, the Council will send a courier to retrieve them. They’ve been notified.”

She almost dropped Creed’s name, but she decided against it once he mentioned the Council. That information would be useful to her later. If she told Ramsey, he’d have a kill order placed on Creed. She needed him alive, for now. Apparently, no one got Ronnie’s reference or Ramsey would have made some smartass remark about it.

“How’d you find out about this, anyway?” Alex picked up the conversation again.

“The Missus was due back today. When she didn’t show or answer her phone, a co-worker got suspicious.”

As flimsy as that excuse was, Alex let it go. Right now, she had bigger things to worry about—much bigger. The fate of strangers wasn’t even in the top 100. Neither was what would happen to the newly-turned vampires being transported to God knows where for interrogation.

As a general rule, children were off limits. Human children were much too impulsive to be turned before a certain age. Children, especially as young as the ones she had just met, couldn’t be trusted to make rational decisions. Everything was structured and filtered for them by the adults in their lives. They took instructions and did the exact opposite every time. Plus, these children had fed on human blood.

Usually the newly turned were eased into drinking fresh blood straight from the source. They’d be taught to endure the thirst, to control it in case they had to go without to stay safe. But once you get a taste for killing, you always want more. Then no one is safe.

To allow creatures like these to feed without restraint meant mistakes would be made. If the body count suddenly began to rise, the Council would notice. And, if they did, so would the human government. Blame would be placed solely on the Council, and they wouldn’t like that.

If the children couldn’t learn to feed without killing, they would be punished. Alex hoped they could be rehabilitated. This wasn’t their fault. It was Creed’s. And, for his misconduct, he might be executed. That thought filled Alex with a strange sort of pity—not that she hadn’t wished Creed harm, but that was a long time ago. Now, to think that she held the power to bring about his demise, Alex felt a little scared of the possibility.

“Well,” Alex said as she turned into the private drive of her house, “if there’s nothing else, I’ve got work to do with my team.”

“No, we’ll take it from here,” Ramsey’s perpetual snide tone scratched at her nerves. “Try not to kill any of them until after the conference.”

Before she could throw as many curse words as she knew at him, he was gone. The smartphone in her hand held her entire work life, so crushing it in her grip would not be a good idea. As she pulled up to the front door, all she wanted was a good workout, a stiff drink, and a long night’s sleep. Maybe she’d skip the workout.