“So, as you can see,” I said, my hands still raised high above my head. “There’s really no reason to kill me.” Pausing, I peered through eerie silence at the man who still had the laser sight of his pistol trained on the base of my throat and sighed with relief.
“It’s about damned time.” The words came out almost a snarl.
Where did a common thug get such an expensive pistol? Dropping my arms, I rolled my aching shoulders forward and back, trying to release the tension from holding my hands up over my head for so long.
In the mood to be nasty, I had an incredible urge to kick the jerk in the crotch for preying on innocents the way he did. Instead, I stood glaring at him for a minute before I tossed the idea aside.
The guy stared off into space, his eyes unfocussed. Admittedly, it was the first time I had ever been proud of my dubious gift to talk someone into a mindless stupor. Still, it was better than killing the jerk.
The twenty-seven dollars in my wallet wasn’t worth dying—or killing—over. The man had no idea who he’d been dealing with. If the darkness was a thief’s best friend, then it was my lover. I could hide from the world in the daytime. At night, I could practically disappear.
I scurried away from the idiot, grabbing his gun before I left. I didn’t need it, but I didn’t want him descending on some unsuspecting mundane with it either. Since a mundane—also known as a person with no magical abilities—wouldn’t have any way to defend themselves like me, I figure it’s my duty to keep scum like that from preying on them if I can.
It was a good thing a cold front came down from Canada earlier in the morning and I had been wearing gloves. Leaving my prints on the gun was out of the question, since it was about to make an unannounced appearance at the nearest police station.
I moved quickly out of my mugger’s line of sight, unsure how long his stupor would last and whether or not he had another gun hidden on his filthy person. Buildings blurred by me as I ran through the dark streets looking for a cop.
Glancing back through the darkness, I frowned. I had lulled him into a stupor because I hadn’t wanted to hurt the jackass. I hadn’t accidentally killed anyone yet, and I certainly didn’t want to start any time soon.
I wouldn’t go as far as saying I’ve never taken a life. In fact, I take lives on a fairly regular basis. Then again, I’m a vampire hunter. Taking lives is kind of a prerequisite for the job. Not that I get a salary for it. Besides, killing a vampire wasn’t like killing a human, was it? I mean... they’re dead already. Right?
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a raving psychotic and I don’t run around killing vampires willy-nilly. Nor do I dash about lopping off the heads of poor, unsuspecting blood drinkers who only do what they must to survive. I simply watch them, discover their habits and act accordingly. After all, if I skipped around town executing them all, regardless of their habits, I wouldn’t be any better than my vict... er... targets, would I?
Jogging through the darkness, I found the nearest police station, concentrated on confusing all of the mundanes’ perceptions, and dropped the gun on the front counter.
It was the only option available to me. A locked door and three inches of bulletproof glass stood between the nearest officer’s desk and me. Leaving it there would have to do.
Glad that I knew using my powers screwed with the operation of electrical equipment, I exited the station secure in the knowledge that no one would know who had left it there. The gun still held the mugger’s prints. If the man had a record and killed someone with it, the police would hunt him down and get him off the streets. That was how it worked in a perfect world, anyway.
After leaving the station, I decided to take it easy and catch my breath. Looking up at the sky, I spotted a few stars through the glare of streetlights and stopped to admire them. At least, I thought they were stars. I suppose they could have been satellites. What did I know? Taking my time, which was something unusual for me, I stood admiring the lights in the sky wishing I could go to the country for a couple of days to admire them in the unfettered darkness.
“Well, well. What have we here?”
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and began to wiggle at the cliché from the bad guy’s phrase. It was my usual reaction to the presence of a rogue. What was unusual was the absence of the urge to kill him. Pausing to assess the reason why I felt no necessity for violence, I looked at the man—and I used the term loosely—who had accosted me and shook my head with disgust.
“I swear, some people watch way too much TV,” I said, glaring at another would-be assailant and clapping my hands with mock glee. “Oh, goodie!” My voice was high pitched and dripped with sarcasm as I skipped in place, staring at the freckled redheaded vampire flashing his elongated blinding white canines at me. “It’s Howdie Doodie time!” Then I leaned forward and squinted a bit. “Or are you Opie, all grown up?”
There’s no real secret to how one could tell a good vampire from a bad one. It’s easy for people like me, who can’t be controlled.
The good vamps, meaning those who feed to live, not the other way around, will take control of a person’s mind. When they do that, most people aren’t even aware they’ve met a vampire, much less invited them to dinner.
A bad vampire—read evil incarnate—will not take over a victim’s mind. They want their victims scared. They just love the taste and rush of adrenaline-laced blood. In fact, they’re addicted to it. It’s like an amphetamine to them. Apparently, my new friend, the teen who kept gnashing his teeth at me, was one of the latter.
“Come to me, my sweet.”
Giggling, I rolled my eyes, crossed my arms, then backed up a pace just because I could.
“Don’t you find it hard to strike terror in the hearts of mortals when you look like a cartoon character and sound like a really bad B-movie vampire?”
Tilting my head, I gave him another assessing once over. “You’re not very old, are you?” It wasn’t hard to tell that much. The real old vampires had a strange, formal speech pattern. “How old are you, nineteen? Twenty, maybe?”
It just wasn’t like a young vampire to go rogue. Rogues usually turned out of boredom because they’d lived too long, or they developed some sort of mental instability brought on by living for centuries alone. Well, not alone so much as without passionate love.
The boy glanced down at himself as though expecting a part of his anatomy to jump up and admit to tattling about his age. Looking back up, he glared at me through narrowed eyes.
“What makes you think that?”
I ignored the sound of a few cars passing behind me, knowing I had nothing to fear from this particular vampire. There might be a few ancients out there who had a chance of killing me, but it wouldn’t be this one, and it also wouldn’t be any time soon.
“Because,” I replied, leaning closer to get a better look. “The other rogues I’ve met have this... I don’t know... old-world air about them. You don’t.” I didn’t add that they all looked at least thirty. This kid looked like just that. A kid. To be fair, though, most people under thirty do look like kids to me now that I’ve passed the big four-oh.
“Others?” He latched onto that one word, his eyes round. “You’ve met others?”
Suddenly, the hungry look washed out from his face, replaced with a strange kind of longing. “Do you know where they are?” He looked hopeful. “Do you think they would help me?”
“Help you? What—”
If I lived to be one hundred, I don’t think I could ever be more shocked than when he fell to his knees in front of me.
“Take me to them. Please.”
“Well, hell.”
I didn’t like visiting Casa Sicura, which, roughly translated, means Sanctuary House. Ever. Things happened there even a gifted person such as I didn’t want to know.
There was no reason for me to associate with vampires on the brink of turning rogue, but the boy-vamp had proverbially backed me into a corner. If things were as I suspected, the young vampire following behind me as docile as a lamb needed help—and lots of it.
He appeared to have been abandoned by his maker. I couldn’t, in good conscience, leave him to his own devices. In his condition, he could kill someone. Besides, the others at Casa Sicura could teach him to control the urge to kill as he fed. I knew that much about them.
We paused outside the huge brownstone building and I turned to look at him. The boy stared up at the five-story monstrosity with awe as I eyed him speculatively.
Damn, damn, damn. No matter how much I might have wanted to do so, I couldn’t just drop him on the doorstep like a babe in a basket. I’d have to go in with him. The very thought made my skin crawl. Damn it!
“Come on.” I nearly growled the words at him as I passed the pair of lights flanking the sidewalk and slowly mounted the front steps.
One vampire, or even two or three, I could handle, but once I walked through those double doors at the top of the steps, I’d be surrounded by at least a dozen of them.
Resting my hand on the doorframe, I bowed my head for a moment, took a deep breath for courage, and knocked. The door opened immediately.
The tall, gorgeous blonde who answered the door must have been standing just on the other side of it when I knocked. The beauty of the people never ceased to amaze me. I forgot who I was for a moment as I stared at the woman’s honey blonde hair and strange amber eyes. I wanted to put my head down and cry, she was so beautiful. It seemed so unfair to stand and look at such perfection when I was such a frump.
Finally I remembered why I’d knocked on their door. I glanced back at the boy, who stared at the gorgeous female vamp silently with much the same awe as I had. His mouth dropped open and I half expected drool to drip from his lips. I pinched his side to get his attention.
“State your purpose.” The woman looked down her nose at me, as most of the beautiful people did—though, for her, it was a feat, considering I was almost a foot taller than she.
I would have laughed if I hadn’t still been so put out from having to stand next to her blonde-haired, amber-eyed, slim perfection with my own curly red hair, denim blue eyes and... cough... frumpy forty-something body. Normally I was happy with the way I looked, but this woman could put a starlet to shame.
“State your purpose,” the blonde repeated, looking between us like we were something she’d found under her stove. Her patience was obviously wearing thin, too.
Taking a deep breath, I straightened myself to my full height and announced, “I’d like to see Mister Dartrazinski, please.”
The woman shifted, peering up at me through narrowed eyes. “And you are?”
“For Pete’s sake, Marta,” a familiar voice said from behind her. “Let her in.”
I smiled when the woman sighed and swung the door wider, revealing the cream painted foyer. Natasha Dartrazinski, Micah Dartrazinski’s wife, hurried over to the door to give me a hug. Her high heels clicked merrily against the cream marble floor as she dragged me further into the bowels of the house.
Usually I didn’t like for anyone to touch me, let alone drag me into their arms for a hug, especially vampires. But Tasha had a way about her that made you forget she drank blood. Instead, you could only think how lucky you were to have her as a friend. From what I’d heard, she hadn’t always been a vampire.
Meeting her husband had changed her a great deal. Apparently, she’d never really had any one person in her life for very long until she met him. Now, she had Micah and their son, Michael.
“Tara Torolf, what brings you here?”
Tasha led me into the kitchen, my hand in hers. She gestured for me to sit at the kitchen table, pulling a chair out for Opie as well.
“Sit,” I said, glaring at the boy for his part in my arrival here. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t really his fault, but I had to blame it on somebody. Turning back to Tasha, I sat down in the chair next to the boy and resisted the urge to put my head in my hands.
“He needs help.” I gestured toward the boy. “I think he was abandoned by his maker.”
Tasha closed her large blue eyes and sighed. “Jesus. Will it never end?” She turned a bright smile on the boy. “Welcome to Casa Sicura.” She smiled at his blank expression and added, “It means Sanctuary House. Are you hungry?”
“He is,” I answered in his stead. “He tried to make me his dinner.”
Tasha patted his hand as she stood. “You poor baby. I’ll just get you something.” She walked over to the huge, stainless steel refrigerator that dominated the sunny room painted pale yellow with gleaming white tile. She disappeared inside for a moment, then appeared with two bags of blood.
Tasha ripped one of the bags open with her teeth, poured the blood in a glass, and held it out to the boy.
It was all I could do not to gag as he gulped it down and eagerly held up his glass for more.
Tasha smiled. “You were hungry, weren’t you?” she said after he finished off the second bag, then cleared her throat. “I... uh... have to ask you this.” Pausing, she eyed the boy speculatively. “Have you killed anyone yet?”
She reached out and patted the boy’s hand again when he blanched. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have meant to, but we have to know if we need to go out and do any damage control.” Then her eyes widened as she obviously thought of something else. “What’s your name? Will there be anyone looking for you?”
The boy turned a darker shade of red as he most likely realized he’d just basically been given dinner by a beautiful woman and he hadn’t even introduced himself.
“Evan, ma’am,” he answered, swallowing reflexively, his throat working overtime. “Evan Evans. I-I ran away from home before... it happened. I’m of age now. No one should be looking for me.”
How Tasha managed to keep that serene expression on her face, I’ll never know. I swear, some people have absolutely no imagination when it comes to naming their children. I sighed, wondering if he was wishing he were back home now. It seems like being turned against your will and having to subsist on blood to survive would have that effect on a person.
“By the way, ma’am, thank you for my... for my dinner. I haven’t eaten in two days.”
“Two days?” She glanced at me. “And you managed to make it here without attacking Tara?” Her eyes widened. “I’m impressed.” She leaned over and whispered to him a bit too loudly, “Just so you know, it’s a good thing you didn’t. Attack her, that is.” Tasha grinned. “This is Tara Torolf, America’s premier rogue hunter. Had you followed through with whatever you’d been thinking when you first met her, you’d be dead right now. Not sitting here in this kitchen with a full belly.”
The large knob in Evan’s throat, commonly referred to as an Adam’s apple, bobbed as he looked at me and gave me a sheepish grin.
I couldn’t help, but smile, which was a feat, really, considering where I was and all. I nodded toward the boy. “About his ability to control the hunger... Have you ever heard of that happening before?”
“Heard of what happening before?” Micah asked. He stood just inside the door behind me, looking good enough to eat as usual. I mentally shook my head. Not only was the man taken, he was a vampire. I needed to keep reminding myself of that. Still, it didn’t mean I couldn’t admire the man’s tall, dark good looks.
As usual, he wore dark slacks, a white button-down shirt opened at the collar, and shiny black shoes. The man could have been a movie star, he was that handsome, but the male vampires usually were. Evan, with his red hair and green eyes, was even quite handsome. Someday, when he was about three hundred, girls would be falling at his feet begging him to take them to bed.
Micah sauntered toward his wife, touching my shoulder as he passed before leaning down to kiss Tasha on the forehead. It was a tender, loving gesture that wasn’t lost on me. I swallowed thickly and looked away.
“Micah, meet Evan. Evan, this is my husband, Micah.” Tasha gave her husband a meaningful look before he turned and nodded at the boy, then took the seat between them.
“Evan’s maker abandoned him. He went two days without feeding and managed to control himself while in Tara’s company.” She glanced at me. “For how long?”
I shrugged, not really sure. “At least thirty minutes or so. We walked over from near the mall.”
Micah’s eyes widened a bit. “That is unprecedented.” He stared at Evan for a moment before adding, “Unless...” He paused and stared at the boy for a moment before he continued, “Unless he’s not newly turned. If he’s been trained, it’s not a huge surprise, even for one so young.”
He stared at the boy and I had the feeling he was ruffling through Evan’s memories and would get the truth no matter what.
“When were you turned?”
“Four or five days ago, I think.”
The frown on his face was understandable. From what I gathered, it wasn’t uncommon to lose a few days when newly turned, especially if you weren’t cared for properly.
Micah stared into space for a minute, resting his hand on his chin, his fingers tapping his lips. “I will go fetch Gideon. It is good that he is here. As one of the eldest, perhaps he will know what this means.” He paused. “There is something...” Micah left the room, a faraway expression on his face.
“Gideon?” I asked Tasha as soon as her husband went through the door. “I don’t think I’ve heard that name before. Not attached to the vampire world, anyway.”
Tasha rubbed her hands on her legs. “He’s like them, but not. He’s one of the originals who first came here. Apparently the man is almost as old as god and a hell of a lot more bossy.” She rolled her eyes, then sighed. “Still, it’s hard to dislike a man who is about to end his life because he feels himself withdrawing from the world and acquiring the building blocks for rogue tendencies.”
“Oh! I’m confused. I thought all of you vampires were immortal.” I wasn’t aware they could commit suicide.
“How many times do I have to tell you, they don’t like to be called vampires? They are Cartuotey.”
“Right,” I agreed with a nod. “Car-too-oh-tie.” Then I shrugged. “A rose by any other name...” I shook my head. “About the immortal stuff,” I reminded her.
“Oh, we can die.”
She gave me an impatient look.
“You, of all people, should know that.”
I glanced at her with surprise. “This Gideon is going to set himself on fire?” I suppressed a shudder. Eew! What a way to go.
“Highly unlikely,” Tasha said with a snort. “They’re more apt to slit their wrists and bleed out or ask another to kill them.” She shrugged. “Either way, they’re just as dead. Don’t you agree?”
That was true, I supposed. “So which route do you think this Gideon will take?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She frowned, thinking. “Knowing the man’s reputation, I’d guess he’s already ordered someone to do it for him.” Clasping her hands on the table in front of her, Tasha gave me a thin-lipped smile. “I just hope it isn’t Micah. Though something tells me it is.”
“Oh.”
My heart went out to the unknown man. It was a shame, really. I don’t believe I’m actually feeling sorry for him. The thought was almost laughable.
The center of my chest ached. Pressing the palm of my hand against my breast, I stared sightlessly toward the far window for a moment before continuing. “It just seems a damned shame to live such a life so horribly alone, then have to arrange for your own demise because you can’t find the right person to share it with.”
“It is not a matter of my finding the right woman as much as it is finding a woman with the correct chemistry,” a strange, male voice said behind me just before the owner of that buttery smooth baritone came into view. He nodded to Tasha before continuing. “I am not like most of the others. My chemistry requires a woman with certain chemistry. A woman whom I believed, until just recently, did not exist.”
Micah and the new man, whom I assumed was Gideon, sat down at the table with us. Moss-green eyes stared at me across the table and I fought the ridiculous urge to reach up and smooth my hair. Instead, I narrowed my eyes and clenched my fists in my lap.
Still, I couldn’t manage to take my eyes off the new man. Too bad he was a vampire. If it wasn’t for that inconvenient blemish in his ancestry, I might have been attracted to his exceptionally tall and dark good looks. I swallowed convulsively and tamped down the slow burn that began low in my middle the moment I’d first glimpsed the man, and concentrated on keeping control of my gift.
Evan pushed his chair back in an obvious attempt to put distance between us—not that it would help him if he’d been a target. He glanced at Tasha, waving to get her attention. “Uh, why does she have smoke coming out of her ears?”
The smoke wasn’t really coming from my ears. It was coming from small holes just slightly behind and beneath them. I have no idea why they were there other than to release pressure. The holes were sort of like gills that released the force of the smoke inside me. I shudder to think what would happen to me without them. My head would probably explode, or something.
“So,” Tasha said, in an overly cheerful voice, obviously taking the initiative to get the men to stop staring at me. “Any idea how Evan, here, was able to keep from attacking Tara?”
The man, whom I still assumed was Gideon, since no one had seen fit to introduce us, glanced at Evan for a moment before returning his attention back to me.
“He is an Abrasai.”
There was an audible gasp and the sound of glass crashing to the floor behind me.
“An Abrasai? It—it can’t be. Those are nothing more than legend!”
Turning to be sure the voice I’d heard belonged to the snippy blonde from the foyer, I thinned my lips, not pleased to find I was correct.
“What legend?” Tasha and I voiced the question at the same time.
The boy didn’t say anything. He just sat in his chair, silent. The blood washed from his face as he no doubt wondered what this all meant and whether being a living vampire legend was a good thing.
Gideon stared across the table at me, his face unreadable. “Our people have many legends. It doesn’t make them any less true. There were two different races on our world. The Cartuotey and the Abrasai.” He glanced around the table, then dropped the bomb, “I am Abrasai.”
Something in his eyes told me he felt the same weird attraction I did. It relieved me that he didn’t act on it. At least I kept telling myself it did.
I held up my hand before he continued. “Would you mind introducing yourself so when I replay this in my head, I can put a name to what you’ve said?”
He leaned forward, his moss-green gaze burning into mine. “Who I am is unimportant. What I am, however, is of extreme importance.” His eyes glittered with a strange inner light. “And what I am is the man who knows the answers to your questions. You will be silent now while I explain.”
I knew it was time to vent when I saw the smoke drift in front of my face. Standing, I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. “Look, Mister Bossy, I’m not one of your people, and you would do well to remember that.” My aura swelled around me and I took a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain control. “There’s nothing wrong with displaying a shred of common courtesy.”
Raising my brow, I held out my hand and smiled with exaggerated sweetness. “It’s nice to meet you, Robby Rude,” I said, then pointed to the boy. “This is Evan, and I’m Tara.” Standing, the man walked around the table, patted Evan on the head, then came to stand before me.
I glared up at him, not in the least intimidated by his greater height. Having had to look up at almost every one of the vampires I’d met over the years made me used to how insignificant I appeared in their presence, but, not to be cliché, looks were deceiving.
Still holding my hand out, I waited for him to take it. Instead of shaking my hand, the infuriating man bowed over it so low his breath brushed my fingers. A blast of heat that had nothing to do with my gift seared through my bloodstream and headed straight for my groin.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Tara. I am Gideon Molfetta.”
The smooth baritone flowed through me like well-aged scotch and I shivered as goose flesh rose on my arms and the shock of excitement skittered down my spine.
Totally unprepared for his touch, I almost cried out when his large hand enveloped mine. A spark of energy flowed between us. The small electrical charge was visible, like static electricity, but it carried a much bigger punch.
Disappointment and something else I dared not try to name warred within me as I recognized my body’s reaction. It was desire, plain and simple, though there was really nothing simple about it. It was a bone-deep sexual attraction that almost made me cry.
This was the first man I’d ever been attracted to since my husband died, and he just had to be an ancient, bloodsucking vampire bent on self-destruction.
He looked up at me for a split second and his eye twitched, because I knew he hadn’t just winked at me. “I am at your service.”
My eyes widened and I told myself he hadn’t just licked the back of my hand, either. Gritting my teeth to keep from screaming out my frustration—or perhaps my despair—I gave him a tight smile. “Now that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” I yanked my hand from his grasp and fought the urge to hold it against my chest.
For a second, I wondered if I was being so difficult because he was so distant. I’d been around enough good and bad vampires over the years that I knew how things were. The men were positively barbaric to each other when they found their mates. They snapped and growled, snarling at each other to keep their distance. And the poor woman had no choice in the matter. The male bared his teeth and said, you are my mate and will do as I say. Not in so many words, but the idea was the same.
So I’m sure my problem was his lack of enthusiasm. The strange attraction I felt made me think perhaps I was his mate and now he wouldn’t need to have someone kill him before he turned rogue. I may not like vampires, but I’m sure the right man could change my opinion of them.
That I was his mate was pretty far-fetched, I know, but a girl can dream can’t she? Sighing, I stared into Gideon’s flashing green eyes and consigned myself to my own personal hell for as long as it would take him to explain.
“Are you ready to listen now?” Gideon straightened and returned to his seat across the table at my nod. “Good.”
He eyed the blonde from the foyer until she squirmed, cleaned up the glass she’d broken with a wave of her hand—handy trick, that—and left the room.
“As I was saying,” Gideon began, flashing me a look that could melt the polar ice caps and cause the poles to shift. “An Abrasai is any immortal who can control the bloodlust for an unusual amount of time. This being’s powers also include the ability to bring a rogue back from the blood madness, among other things. Those explanations would serve us better at another time.”