by Kasi Blake
“Do you see her?” Cowboy grinned as he stood. He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Do you hear her? If she was here, you’d know. Believe me. That voice carries.”
No doubt. Trick walked around the room, unsure of where to begin. He wanted to ask the right questions. “I’m having a vampire-related problem.”
“My favorite kind.” Cowboy straddled the couch’s arm and beat a soft tempo on it as if playing a drum. “What’s up, buddy?”
“When I was with Dani the other night, I could smell her blood. I mean, I could really smell it.”
A slow grin stretched Cowboy’s mouth. “And you got the urge to go for her neck? I told you the change wouldn’t be that easy. Never met a newbie vampire who didn’t lose control at least once.”
But he couldn’t afford to lose control. If he hurt Dani or someone else he cared about, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Close to total panic, he asked, “What do I do?”
“Bite her,” Cowboy said with a careless shrug.
“I would stake myself before hurting her.”
“Bite someone else then.”
“I can’t do that.”
Cowboy gave a weary sigh. “Blood bags. That’s your last option. Something like this doesn’t go away by wishing. You need to make a decision. Want my advice? Bite the girl, and get it out of your system.” He winked. “Forbidden blood is always the tastiest.”
Trick clenched his jaw and wondered if there was someone else he could talk to about the problem. Depending on the day, Cowboy either saw mortals as food or as toys to amuse himself with. He’d forgotten what it was like to be human. Trick wouldn’t get empathy from him. Of course, talking to Summer would be a hundred times worse. She seemed to delight in his struggles, and she hated Dani. He would take advice from Cowboy before soliciting it from her.
Then Trick remembered there was one other vampire he could talk to, a former vampire, his brother. “I think it’s time for me to meet Jack.”
Cowboy’s brown eyes darkened. “We are not dragging Jackpot into this. He is mortal now, and I don’t work with humans.”
Trick stood his ground. “He’s my brother, and I want to meet him.”
“Why? He can’t tell you anything I can’t tell you. Ask away. I’m an open book.”
Relief relaxed Trick’s cramped muscles, and he put meeting his brother on the backburner. In truth, he didn’t feel right about tracking down Jack just to give him the third degree. They’d meet later under better circumstances. “What was it like for you when you turned?” Trick asked. “How did you learn to control the blood lust?”
“That was so long ago.” Cowboy rolled his shoulders. “I prefer to live in the present and not the past. You should do the same.”
“I’ll talk to Jack.”
“No!” Cowboy leaped to his feet.
“You can’t stop me.” They crossed the room and met in the middle, toe to toe. “If I concentrate hard enough, I can pop up at his house, and you know it. Or I can visit Vanessa Reign. She’ll call him for me.”
“I will tackle you to the ground. Then I’ll chain you to a chair until you come to your senses.” Cowboy poked at Trick’s chest with two fingers. “Jackpot chose a mortal life, and that is where we are leaving him. You don’t need him. We don’t need him. I’ll be your brother.”
“If you aren’t willing to tell me what I want to know...”
“Blackmail?” Cowboy grinned. “Nice. Ask. I’ll answer.”
Cowboy returned to the couch, but this time he plunked down on the middle cushion. Trick was too wired to sit. He paced in front of the fireplace while his mind conjured questions.
“What was it like when you turned?” Trick asked. “Did you have to deal with blood lust? How bad did it get before it stopped? What did you do?”
Cowboy threw his hands into the air. “Nothing I say will help you. I didn’t have faerie blood in my veins. Blood lust hit me within an hour of turning, hit me like a sledgehammer. The girls made sure I had plenty of the fresh stuff. Eventually, I learned to keep myself well fed.”
The girls were Summer and their old friend Lily. Neither Cowboy nor Summer liked to talk about Lily, just a name drop here and there. She had died in a tragic mishap, and they missed her. That’s pretty much all Trick knew.
Trick bounced between wanting to ask more questions and wanting to punch Cowboy in the face. He knew what he had to do, and the other vampire couldn’t stop him. No one could. “You’re right. That doesn’t help. I need to talk to Jack. He had faerie blood in his system just like me.”
Cowboy snorted. “Not when he got turned. He was just an ordinary boy back then. What you need is faerie information.”
“Where do I find that?”
“Talk to Jersey Clifford. That old dog works for Oberon. Maybe he knows something.”
“Isobel will share a lot faster than Jersey.” Trick looked at Cowboy, expectant. “Talk to her for me. I think she still has feelings for you. She’ll give up information if you ask nicely.”
Cowboy grinned. “Summer told me you met my ex, and she whooped you good. She’s not someone you want to mess with. That she-wolf is more trouble than she’s worth, and I am not talking to her for you.”
“Then I will.” Trick started to teleport. At the last second, he realized he didn’t know where the girl wolf was staying. He had teleported to the cemetery where his father was buried without knowing the location, but that didn’t mean it would work with other people. He probably needed to have a connection with someone to zone in on them. “How do I find her?” he asked. “Do you know her number or where she’s staying?”
“Talk to Jersey first,” Cowboy said with a shrug. “If you don’t get the information you want, I will help you find Isobel. Deal?”
Trick nodded, relieved they were finally making progress. “Deal.”
They shook on it. While Cowboy still had Trick’s hand, he jerked Trick closer. He crushed Trick’s fingers almost to the point of snapping bones. “Since you’re in the deal-making mood, what about this?” Cowboy grinned. “You research Oberon, and when you find out I’m right about him, we hit the road. When you realize you can’t win the battle, we pack our bags. Deal?”
Trick stared at the other vampire for a few silent minutes. Agreeing with the plan seemed wrong. How could he admit defeat before the fight began? “What about Summer? Is she on board with leaving?”
Cowboy made a rude noise. “If she’s not, I will knock her out and bind her with magical chains until she comes to her senses.”
The image of Summer tied up and unable to do as she pleased made Trick smile. Part of him was tempted to agree to leave town just to see Cowboy put his plan into action. The vampire girl refused to stay away from Trick’s brother. Appealing to Matt’s sanity hadn’t worked. Neither of them was taking his objections seriously. If Cowboy didn’t put a stop to it, Trick vowed he would. He was a strong supporter of young love... except in this one case.
“We’ll question Jersey at lunchtime on Monday,” Trick said in a firm voice. “Be there.”
As he teleported from the mansion he heard Cowboy asking the air, “Who died and made him boss?”
♫
“Where’s your werewolf army?” Trick asked in lieu of a greeting. He stood just inside Jersey’s classroom at noon on Monday. Knowing about the upcoming confrontation had kept him from sleeping much that weekend. His stomach muscles hurt after hours of clenching, but at least he wasn’t dealing with the werewolf alone. Cowboy had teleported in a few minutes ago to help if Jersey decided to get physical.
“How many little doggies do you have now?” Cowboy asked.
Dressed in his usual solid black, Jersey had removed his suit jacket and draped it over his chair at some point during the day. He was erasing blue writing from the whiteboard, cleaning up after his last class before lunch. Since it was impossible to sneak up on a werewolf, Jersey knew they were there before the first word was spoken.
Without glanci
ng in their direction he said, “In my day if you had a problem with someone, you challenged them to a duel. It isn’t polite to toss around accusations without evidence of wrongdoing.”
Trick sneered. “Well, buckle up cause here comes another. You sent Isobel to break into my house and steal the Sugar Bomb. I want it back. We both know she works for—”
“Oberon. We both do.”
Cowboy scoffed. “Who do you think you’re lying to? You don’t work for anyone but yourself.”
Trick pointed a finger at the werewolf. “I want that Bomb back.”
Jersey sighed. “Why do I feel a threat coming?”
Threat? No. Trick kept his promises. Feeling reckless, he lunged at Jersey, grabbed the werewolf by his neatly pressed shirt, and slammed him against the clean whiteboard. “Tell me what you know about Oberon or I’ll finish you now.”
“Your arrogance borders on delusion. Perhaps you should see a psychiatrist.” Jersey grinned. “Oh, that’s right. You’re already seeing someone. Forgive me, but I don’t think it’s working. Perhaps you should look into a refund.”
Trick growled deep in his throat and envisioned the werewolf without his head. “That’s it!”
Jersey lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers. “You don’t want to tangle with me.” Metallic claws, invisible to mortals, glinted in the artificial light. “One scratch. Remember?”
Cowboy whispered over Trick’s shoulder. “Maybe now is not the time to fight this particular dog.”
The vampire had a point, but Trick’s hands tightened on the silky black material anyway. Part of him was willing to risk death on the chance he could kill the werewolf before the werewolf killed him.
“You want to know about Oberon?” Jersey asked.
Trick took a deep breath and released the werewolf. It took considerable effort to let Jersey go without at least trying to rip his throat out. Trick’s hands were shaking. He stepped back, giving his enemy room to breathe. “Yes. I want to know everything you know about the faerie king.”
“This will be quick then,” Jersey said. “Oberon is not my best friend, and we do not share secrets. Here are the facts that I know.” Jersey turned and wrote on the whiteboard in red marker. He listed the points as he spoke, starting with number one. “Oberon is immortal, but there is something that can kill him.”
“What?” both Trick and Cowboy asked.
“If he makes a vow and breaks it, he will die instantly.” Jersey chuckled. “Of course, he is aware of this fact and is extremely careful not to make vows he can’t keep.” Jersey wrote out the second piece of information. Number two. “He returns to the Faerie Realm once in a while to recharge his energy. His son sucked energy from other faeries, thus killing them, but Oberon prefers to do it the natural way.” Then he wrote number three. “Most of his power comes from a golden scepter that he keeps hidden when he’s not using it.”
For a moment they all stood there in silence and stared at the three points. When it became obvious Jersey wasn’t going to add anything else to the list, Trick spoke to Cowboy. “That’s good information... if it’s true. We might be able to use it.” Trick’s gaze returned to Jersey. “Guess you can be useful sometimes. Return the Sugar Bomb, and stay out of my way. Maybe I won’t kill you.”
Jersey sighed. “Forget me, Isobel, and the Bomb. You should worry about Oberon. He is biding his time while learning more about you. The man is smart and will use your weaknesses against you.”
Trick took a step closer to the werewolf, but Cowboy restrained him from going too far with a hand on his arm. “What are his weaknesses?” Trick asked.
Jersey Clifford flipped sides faster than a double agent. That sort of disloyalty gnawed at Trick. They couldn’t trust Jersey, but they needed him. He knew Oberon. Time for him to give them some real information they could use or shut up forever.
“Oberon created the entire faerie race,” Jersey said. He erased his points from the whiteboard while speaking to them. “I do not know who created him, just that he has been around for thousands of years, longer than me. His power is limitless. Rumor has it he can bring back the dead. Think about it. He is more powerful than anything or anyone else in this entire universe.”
Trick pointed a finger at him. “If I catch you making werewolves—”
“Stop with the threats,” Jersey said. “It cheapens us both.”
Trick growled. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Jersey chuckled to himself as Trick opened the door. The laughter sent a shiver up his spine, and he turned to face the werewolf again. Jersey obviously wanted to add something to the conversation.
“Go ahead,” Trick said with a frustrated sigh. “What is it? What are you dying to tell me?”
“Do you know what faeries enjoy most?” Jersey asked in a creepy voice.
Trick waited for the werewolf to tell him, but Jersey kept his mouth closed. He stared at Trick. His pale blue eyes held a glint of amusement as if he was hoping to drive Trick crazy with his annoying riddles. The clock ticked above the door; the bell was about to ring. When Trick realized Jersey wasn’t going to say another word until he did, Trick threw his hands into the air. “Well? Spill it. What do faeries enjoy most?”
“Curses,” Jersey said with a grin. “Oberon will create a gloriously sadistic curse just for you. Then he will laugh while you suffer, and just when you can’t take it a second longer, he’ll kill you.”
The threat hit home. Deep inside Trick wondered what sort of curse the evil faerie would create for him. What did he fear most?
The answer came to him, and he laughed.
Oberon was too late; he was already a vampire.
♫
Detention had kept Trick and Scarlet an hour later than the other students. The parking lot was almost empty. Scarlet’s borrowed car, his motorcycle, and three cars belonging to faculty members were the only vehicles left. She gave him a half-wave on her way to her father’s car while he took his time walking to his bike. Torn between leaving and returning to Jersey’s room to rip into the werewolf, he circled the machine at a snail’s pace. He dug his keys out and flipped through them. His keychain was a shiny silver and black Superman symbol, a gift from Scarlet. He turned his head to look at the nearly vacated school building. If he was careful, he could kill Jersey without drawing the attention of a witness. Might be worth the risk.
He took another lap around the motorcycle. Killing werewolves took special equipment like swords, daggers, or hatchets. He didn’t have any of those things on him. But he was a vampire. That should count for something. True, a mere scratch from a werewolf could kill him. But a surprise attack would give him the advantage, keep those claws at bay.
Once again his gaze went to Jersey’s classroom window on the second floor. He could teleport inside, use his fangs to rip Jersey’s throat open, and pop back out before anyone had the chance to notice his motorcycle was still there. Killing the first werewolf sure would be a sweet addition to his resume.
A van swerved in his direction, missing him by inches. He jumped sideways. The driver hit the brakes. The side door slid open and hands shot out to grab him. They dragged him inside. Every muscle in his body tensed. Maybe he should teleport home. They slammed him down on the metal floor. He stared up at five black ski masks. In an instant he knew they were hunters, probably from John Foster’s group.
Were they planning to kill him?
Did they know he was a vampire?
Hunched next to him, one guy pulled off his mask to reveal a haggard face. The man was in his forties or fifties with silver hair in a military regulation cut. When he smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes which were cold black circles.
“Trick Donovan,” the man said in a gritty voice. “You have no idea how long we’ve wanted to meet you. Rumor has it the Dark Wizard was your grandfather. That powerful old man caused us a lot of trouble while he was alive.”
Murmurs of agreement traveled through the sealed van.
Gritty-h
unter added, “Then he went and died before I could kill him.”
Trick clenched his fists. For the second time he considered teleporting, but then they would know the truth. They’d want to kill him for sure. He stared up at them from his current, vulnerable position and searched for something to say.
“You impressed us when you took out that Shadow Faerie,” Gritty said. “Got to tell ya, there were some of us hoping to step in and take care of it once you got yourself killed.” Murmurs and muffled laughter rumbled through the crowd. “We usually don’t offer membership to hunters as young as you, but no one your age has killed a Shadow Faerie.” He grinned at his fellow hunters. “In fact, none of us have had the pleasure of meeting one yet.”
“Membership?” Trick played dumb. It was usually the safest bet in dangerous situations. “Me?”
“Didn’t Claudia tell you we’d be in touch?”
The mention of Baxter filled him with dread. She knew his secret, that he hadn’t touched the Sugar Bomb until another vampire held it. They’d instructed Baxter to give it to him so it would kill him if he had his grandfather’s power. Luckily, Baxter helped him instead. She’s the reason he hadn’t grabbed the Bomb and died. The woman gave him a box with the Bomb nestled inside. Then she’d told her hunter friends he was power free.
Had they come to test him?
Trick shrugged at the hunters, still flat on his back and painfully aware of his weakened position. “She might have said something. I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t listen when she talks.”
A couple of them grunted in agreement as if they too had spent time on her couch.
“If you join us, you’ll have unlimited resources,” Gritty said. “Get a lead on a monster killing people in Maine? We’ll pay for your travel expenses, lodging, and supply you with weapons. If you go after a whole pack of monsters, some of us will go with you. Likewise, when we go after a herd of them, you’ll join us. There are no downsides to this deal.”