by T C Galinari
“I say we kill him instead of taking him alive. The Master did say he would accept him dead or alive,” another male voice growls out on a huff. “The Master wants him alive more than dead. Why else would he send so many of us, including the bloodsuckers? Besides, the bounty is higher with him in one piece,” reasons one of my pursuers.
Bloodsuckers? What the hell are they talking about?
Reaching the top of the hill, the pain in my knee is overwhelming, and I slow my pace to a jog. I no longer hear the three men behind me, and I take a moment to glance back. Two of the men are bent over eyeing me from their position, not even a quarter of the way up the hill. The third man, however, is nowhere to be seen.
Without knowing where the other guy is, how am I supposed to be able to double back and help the woman?
Turning back around, I catch a glimpse of movement off to my left. The third man steps out from the side street.
“Well, boy, it seems you did a number on my partners down there, but I scouted out the area earlier so I’d know where to go if you ran,” he sneers as I spin to face him.
“Why are you chasing me?” I question taking a step back.
“Because you have a bounty on your head, and I’m a bounty hunter,” he tells me.
Dumbfounded, I blink at him. “Don’t you have to commit a crime or something to have a bounty on your head? Or at least do something against someone?”
“Kid, I don’t know what you did or how you pissed off the man they call Master, but you did, and he put a bounty on you,” the man explains as I slowly back up another step. “I really don’t want to chase you down,” he continues. “I did a little research on you, as well, and I know you used to run track and play football. They said you could go all the way with your speed. That is until you got hurt. I’m betting that injury doesn’t feel so hot right about now.”
Two sets of footsteps sound to my left coming up the hill, but I don’t dare take my eyes off the man in front of me. He is the one I somehow instinctively know I need to worry about. Not so much the two winded men that couldn’t keep up. The man flicks his eyes toward his companions, and they halt about fifty feet away.
How do I get around this guy?
“Sebastian. Can I call you Sebastian?” he requests, and I glower at him. “I’ll take that as a no. Mr. Lake, there’s no way out of this, like I said before. You’re coming with us.”
“No, I’m not,” I reply, taking another step backward, bumping into something solid.
Peering over my shoulder, I find a newcomer looming over me. The new guy tries to wrap his arms around me, but I duck out of the way and slip past him, only to come up short as I’m tackled to the ground. My head hits the pavement hard, and this time, the darkness sucks me under.
Giselle
As Nikolas’s last man standing crumples to the pavement, I scan the street for any sign that will tell me which direction Sebastian might have run. Not finding any useful clues, I close my eyes and allow my other senses to sharpen and focus. Off in the distance, I hear a struggle. Taking a deep breath, I mentally pinpoint the direction I need to go.
With my bearings set, I quickly glance back, surveying the horde of bodies scattered all over the road. With the exception of two dead bodies, my attackers still have heartbeats and will probably be fine. The undead among them, however, won’t be causing harm to anyone else ever again.
Redirecting my attention on the path I assume Sebastian ran, I race headlong toward my next encounter. At the top of the hill lays Sebastian. His head is bleeding, and a vampire is sitting next to him, his fingers dragging through the blood pooling in the street.
Without thought, I reach for one of the throwing knives I always have on me and sling it straight into the vampire’s heart. The vampire lifts his head to stare at me before glancing down at the silver knife sticking out of his chest. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead, a sound I haven’t heard in centuries comes from his body, and just like back then, my stomach whirls. Wincing at the sizzling sound of his blood, I cover my mouth and turn away, holding back the bile rising in my throat.
This is bad. So freaking bad.
Pacing, I pull my phone from my back pocket and push the power button to turn on the small device. Quickly typing in my passcode, I open the phone app and hold down the number two, letting my preset speed dial do all the work. The phone rings multiple times before anyone picks up.
“Hello?” greets a female voice I’ve never heard before. Pulling the phone from my ear, I check that I dialed the right number.
Vlad never lets other people answer his phone.
“Hello?” she calls out again.
Narrowing my eyes even though she can’t see me, I demand, “Who is this?”
“Shouldn’t you know who you called, dear?” the female replies with a saccharine-sweet voice.
I’m torn between wanting to hurl the contents of my stomach into the street and reaching into the phone––if that were even possible––and wringing the woman’s neck when another voice sounds in the background.
“Is that my phone?” Drac questions, his tone dropping in pitch.
Oh, she’s in trouble now.
“Yes,” the woman answers hotly.
She didn’t just give him snark, did she?
“Did I grant you permission to answer my telephone?” he reprimands, and even through the speaker, I feel the chill.
“No one in their right mind pisses off Vlad,” I quip as she tries to mumble something, but I talk over her knowing Drac can hear me. “There was an attack. Sebastian is hurt, and I’m not sure he’ll make it without my intervention. I need help, Vlad.”
There’s rustling, and a slight protest that comes across as a squeak before Drac’s voice is in my ear. “Get him to the hospital if you are able. I will send help. Giselle, if it is as bad as you say, he might need to be turned. I know that was never the plan, but he is too important to fall into your uncle’s possession.”
“I don’t think that's what he’d want, Vlad, and I can’t make that decision for him,” I argue. Closing my eyes, I fight back the urge to scream. This isn’t Drac’s vault. It’s mine. I assumed I had more time to find him. To protect him. And when I realized––too late, obviously––that time was up, I wasn’t fast enough to save him.
“Young lady, stop thinking in that way. This is not your fault,” Vlad maintains.
“You promised you’d never use your abilities on me, Vlad. No invading my mind,” I growl.
“My sweet Giselle, you are the closest thing I have to a child, and while you are not of my blood, you are my daughter. Allow this old Țepeș a little insight when you are on the other side of the world.”
Daughter?
Opening my eyes, I blink, and I’m rendered speechless.
“Giselle, dear. Breathe. This cannot come as a surprise to you.”
“Uh…ah…,” I mumble out incoherently. Gathering all the saliva in my mouth I can, I swallow hard and try again. “Vlad, I can’t tell you how much hearing that means to me.”
“What kind of a freak is she for you to deem her worthy of considering her your daughter?” I hear the woman who answered the phone demand.
Another squeak filters over the line.
Oh shit! That’s one way to find out what Țepeș does to his enemies.
“You shall never know. Leave now if you would like to continue breathing,” Drac growls menacingly.
The woman doesn’t make another peep that I can hear, and I have perfect hearing.
“Yes, you most certainly are my child. Now, back to the original reason you called. I shall be there as soon as I am able. In the meantime, I will make some calls in order to arrange for you to have help within the next hour. Do not forget to inform me to which hospital the boy is taken,” Drac instructs, his temper back in check.
“Thanks, Vlad,” I choke out and disconnect the call.
Chapter 3
Sebastian
Fading in and out of consciousness, I’m positive I’m still sleeping in my bed and wasn’t just attacked. Yet, standing before me, buildings surrounding us and the pavement under me, is the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. She’s around my age, I’d guess, with waist-length curly, dark, almost black roots fading into platinum locks. I bet it if I could touch it, her hair would feel as smooth as silk. However, it isn’t her most striking feature. No, that honor belongs to her intoxicating violet eyes––a crystal blue and deep blood-red mixture. And I can’t stop staring.
My thoughts are disconnected at best, but oddly enough, she seems familiar. She's surrounded by an eerie fog-like mist that makes it even harder to place where I know her from. And she is most definitely someone I wouldn’t forget. My brain is still struggling to make sense of everything, as well as trying to figure out where I know this beautiful lady from until she bends down to my level and realization kicks in––she’s literally the woman of my dreams. I’ve been dreaming about her practically all of my life. Not only that, but she’s also the same girl I saw sitting under the tree on the quad yesterday morning. The one I made eye contact with as I headed for the engineering department. She still has on the same well-worn, faded denim jeans and light blue form-fitting T-shirt. A small part of me wants to reject what I know to be true because how can the girl I've dreamed about all of my life be right here in front of me? Her looks are delicate, yet if she's standing here, somehow she escaped from that group of men I saw surrounding her before I ran. There's no way she's delicate. This girl has to be as badass as those superhero women you see in the movies.
How is she here…in my reality? Yet, it has to be her––I feel it down to my bones. Her beauty’s like a delicate lotus blooming in the morning sun….
I did not just think that. Great. Now, I’m channeling my dad. Even though that’s not a bad thing, I don’t wax poetic like he used to, which makes me want to smack myself.
"Stunning," is all I murmur, and thank God for that.
“Thank you,” she acknowledges, leaning toward me and checking me over.
She doesn’t just scan over me as I’d expect. Instead, she studies every scrape, gash, and cut that can be seen, especially those around my neck and wrists. She goes so far as to move my shirt collar, as well, to inspect my neck a bit closer.
This has to be another dream.
Using my fists, I rub my eyes and attempt to sit up.
“Don’t move,” she tells me, putting her hand on my chest and stopping my movement. “I’m not sure how badly you might be hurt.”
I’m still too stunned and out of it to argue, so I do as she directs.
“I called 911 before you came to. They should be here any second,” she explains, removing her hand from my chest and glancing toward the body next to me.
Indecision is written all over her face. I’m not sure what exactly happened this morning, but I somehow know she saved my life, and I’m beyond grateful. There’s no way I’m going to let her go down for killing one of the men that attacked me, though. Quickly, I run through different scenarios in my head of how to explain all the bodies lying around, not knowing whether the others she fought are alive or not.
How did she get past all those men that surrounded her? What is she?
Off in the distance, the wailing of the emergency sirens can be heard, and I watch as her decision is made. She does this extremely low squat-walk maneuver that has to be killer on her thighs over to the body lying next to me. I watch in horror and fascination as she pulls three bloody daggers from the body and wipes each one off on the guy’s clothes. Once they’re clean, she slides them back into the sheath I hadn’t noticed that is attached to her thigh.
The sirens sound even closer now, and she turns back toward me. I’m not sure what expression she sees on my face, but whatever it is, I don’t think she likes it.
“They’re going to come back for you. I’m not sure how you ended up on their radar, but somehow, you did. You should be safe at the hospital, though. I have to go. Be careful, and don’t trust anyone you don’t know,” she insists as she hoists the dead body over her shoulder.
My eyes are practically bugging out of my head. How is she able to lift and carry the guy’s body? He’s at least three times bigger than she is. Her looks are definitely deceiving. I’m not going to lie when I say she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Even from a distance yesterday, I could tell she was toned and had an hour-glass figure, but holy hell, I wouldn’t have believed she was that strong.
Hell, even if I hadn’t just had my bell rung, I don’t think even I could lift the guy she now holds as if he’s as light as a feather. She truly is a badass.
Freaking amazing.
Gazing into those captivating violet eyes of hers, I glimpse all the lives she's lived, and I want to know more. Until now, this woman before me has purposefully kept my attention focused on her, and in effect, kept me awake in case I have a concussion. But why? I have so many questions, yet there’s one I absolutely have to ask before she disappears.
“Before you go…tell me your name,” I request before wincing, my adrenaline beginning to wane.
Every inch of my body aches, and my head starts to pound like there’s a bass drum keeping time inside my brain, but I manage to keep my eyes locked on hers.
“Giselle,” she grants me, and a sharp pain shoots through my heart when she speaks her name. “My name is Giselle, Sebastian.”
Giselle. Fitting. I’d pledge myself to her.
From one breath to the next, and before I can even ask another question, she’s gone as if she was never there. An instant later, emergency vehicles roll to a stop, and everyone clambers out, rushing toward me. With my head still pounding, I lean back and close my eyes while everyone works around me.
“Ian, can you tell us what hurts?” my childhood friend and Emergency Medical Technician, Luke, demands.
“Luke, it would be easier to tell you what doesn’t hurt,” I quip, cracking my eyes open to peer up at him.
“Smartass. At least I know you didn’t crack your head too hard if you’re still able to give me shit. We’re going to put a neck brace on you. In just a second, we’ll roll you to one side a little bit so that we can get the backboard under you, but we want to be sure your neck is protected before we move you at all. So, while we’re getting you ready for transport, tell me what doesn’t hurt,” Luke asserts as he begins his assessment.
Luke shines his little light in my eyes, and it ramps up the pain in my head so much that I want to punch him. “If you’ll stop adding to my headache, I’ll tell you what you need to know,” I grumble at him.
Chuckling, Luke turns out the light once he finishes assessing my pupils, and I release a sigh before closing my eyes again. The sound of shuffling shoes on the concrete lets me know multiple people are still moving about.
Luke, or maybe it’s his partner, slides something around my neck as I begin listing all of my different ailments. “I’ll start with my head and work down. My head is killing me. It hit the ground hard, so I’m a bit shocked that I’m even conscious and aware enough to even talk straight right now. My arms seem fine, but my chest is not. I’m not struggling to breathe, but I don’t feel like I can draw in a deep breath easily, either. The only other body part that’s bugging me is my bad knee, but that’s from running as fast as I could away from the three guys chasing me.”
With the neck brace in place and my head immobile, Luke snaps out my name, grabbing my attention. “Ian, on the count of three, we’re going to roll you onto your left arm, slide the board under you, and roll you back down. We’re going to jostle you as little as possible to get you into the ambulance.”
“Luke, I really don’t care what you have to do. Just give me something for the pain, please,” I beg, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Unfortunately, I can’t give you anything. You have to stay awake.”
“Seriously? You freaking suck,” I fuss at him weakly, and Luke pat
s my shoulder.
“I know, but you’re a freaking mess, and I’m not taking any chances…especially not with my best friend,” Luke replies. “By the way, Seth’s headed this way, and he’s going to demand answers.”
As Luke’s older brother, I’ve known Seth all of my life, and in some ways, he’s like my brother too. My dad had been best buds with their dad most, if not all, of their lives. Our dads loved to tell us stories about the good ol’ days back when they played football together, and our mothers became friends after they married our fathers. Needless to say, when my parents passed away in the airplane accident a couple of years ago, Luke’s whole family was there to support me. They still do. But Seth being the kind of guy he is, on top of being a deputy sheriff, isn’t going to be happy with this story.
“Alright, let's do this on the count of three,” Luke instructs as he and his partner place their hands under my shoulder and legs. “One. Two. Three.”
And just like that, I’m off the pavement and on a backboard.
“Is Ian able to talk?” I hear Seth ask.
“Yeah, but let us get him up on the stretcher first before you start grilling him,” Luke says as they lift the board onto the lowered stretcher before raising it up and wheeling me toward the ambulance.
“I’m going to ride to the hospital with Sebastian,” Seth calls out to someone. “Meet me there.” I hear a murmured response that I can’t quite make out as the guys wheel me up into the back of the rig.
“Tell me what happened, Ian. And I want the whole story. No lies and no leaving out any details,” Seth warns me, his voice dangerously low.
In all my years of knowing Seth, I’ve only heard that tone of voice once, and his payback was a bitch. No way in hell am I going to lie to him. As Luke situates me in the ambulance, I start telling Seth what happened, only leaving out the part about Giselle killing the last person and taking the body. She saved my life. There’s no way I’m putting her in danger. It takes me the full twenty-minute ride to the hospital to relay the entire story.