Eternal Kiss

by Trisha Telep

  Oh, and the urn was currently stored somewhere in the hunter’s apartment.

  How the hell she was going to find a way into a super-paranoid vampire hunter’s private home—which was no doubt protected by all kinds of technology and magic—was something that Theo had left for Moth to figure out for herself.

  Perfect.

  She prowled the perimeter of the apartment block on the eastern edge of Ironbridge, wondering why a killer would choose somewhere like this to hole up. It was too high profile—way too up-market for a person who should, by rights, want to keep his head down and his business private. On the other hand, he probably made a ton of money doing what he did, so why not live in style? It wasn’t like a vampire hunter had a high life-expectancy.

  Moth ran her fingers over the cool metal of the intercom, wondering where Thomas Murdoch was hunting tonight.

  “You need to get in?” The voice came from directly behind her, and Moth couldn’t believe she hadn’t sensed anybody approach. She was losing her touch.

  She swung around to face a young guy, probably similar in age to her—before she was turned—with blond spiky hair and intense dark eyes. She couldn’t tell what color they were, even under the apartment-block security lights, but that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that he was freaking gorgeous. And tall—much taller than her.

  The guy activated the electronic entry pad with a black fob hanging from his keyring. He gave her a strange look as he opened the door, probably because she was just staring at him. Moth wondered if she had drool running from the corner of her mouth.

  “After you,” he said.

  “Thanks.” This wasn’t exactly how Moth had planned on entering the building, but what could she do? She couldn’t be rude, not when he was so goddamn cute, and maybe this would turn out to be easier than climbing the outside wall.

  She unzipped the leather jacket and noisily cracked her knuckles, immediately regretting the habitual action. It wasn’t her most feminine trait. She ventured further into the lobby … and slammed on the brakes as she walked past a huge copper-framed mirror. Damn. Way to advertise your undead status. She backed up and waited for the guy to walk by.

  He gave her that look again, but headed for the far end of the foyer and hit the elevator call button. As soon as he disappeared inside, Moth scampered up the stairs and headed to the top floor. It figured that a kick-ass vampire hunter would live at the top of a ten-storey building. Luckily for her, endurance wasn’t an issue since turning vamp.

  Tenth floor, and the plush-carpeted hallway was quiet. No mirrors here—just ornate wood paneling lining the walls and low-key lighting humming quietly above her head. Moth tried not to think about the stranger who had let her in; his dark eyes seemed to burn in her mind, and it disturbed her that someone who was clearly only human could affect her that much. She’d spent so many years being drawn to Theo that she’d forgotten what it was like to feel a genuine spark of attraction for anyone else. She wondered who the young guy was and which apartment he lived in.

  Moth shook her head, reminding herself how furious Theo would be if she screwed up. If she wanted to get out of Ironbridge and enjoy her last couple months of freedom, she needed to succeed. She shivered as she walked underneath an air-conditioning unit that had been left running, glad that she’d changed into black jeans when she’d stopped at one of Theo’s dens for a snack. Thankfully, despite his aversion to “bottled blood” (his name for the hospital supplies some vampires preferred to drink), he didn’t stop his people from indulging their morals.

  The door to apartment 1016 was at the far end of the corridor, set back in its own alcove. The bright copper handle stood out against dark wood, and Moth’s heart began to pound when she noticed that the door stood open. Just a crack, but she still caught a glimpse of burgundy carpet and a small entry hall through the narrow gap. She pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and contemplated this whole situation being a setup.

  No, that was crazy.

  Licking her lips and wishing that being a vampire meant she didn’t have to feel that human rush of adrenalin, Moth edged closer, trying to ignore the fear and excitement pulsing in her stomach. She pushed out with her senses to see if she could smell or hear what waited on the other side of the door. Too late, she caught the sliver of a human scent behind her—it was mixed with something oily and mechanical and utterly unfamiliar.

  A sharp pain pierced the back of her neck, and suddenly she was falling … falling to the floor and beyond into darkness.

  Moth opened her eyes but immediately regretted it, hissing in pain at the bright light shining in her face. She tried to move, but realized her arms were secured behind her with something hard and cool. Something that, although cold, still burned the bare flesh of her arms.

  “Don’t struggle, you’ll hurt yourself.”

  Moth squinted in the direction of the male voice, but it was difficult to make out her surroundings with the spotlight aimed at her. The heat was making her skin itch, and her lips were dry and cracked. Someone had removed the leather jacket, leaving her in the tight black T-shirt that displayed a blood-red picture of Dr. Frank N. Furter from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

  She almost cried with relief when the solar lamp—or whatever it was—switched off, leaving the room illuminated by flickering candlelight. Very atmospheric. Moth was propped up against a wall beneath the only window in the room. To her left was a large bed covered in a gray velvet throw and, on the other side of that, floor-to-ceiling built-in wardrobes lined the wall. Two small glass-topped tables each held several candles of varying height. A man sat in an armchair to her right.

  Moth tried to stand, but realized her legs were bound by heavy silver chains. At least her jeans offered some protection. She frowned, wondering why the silver that she assumed bound her wrists was so painful. Vampires were sensitive to silver, but it wasn’t usually this bad. More like an irritating allergy—and even then, only with really good-quality silver.

  She gazed at the suspiciously familiar-looking young man who was watching her. The first thing she noticed about him was that he held some kind of crossbow trained on her, and it was aimed straight at her heart.

  He said, “The silver chains and handcuffs are blessed, that’s why it hurts.”

  Moth scowled. “That’s just mythology.”

  “So, that’s why your wrists are burning?” His mouth twitched. “You must be a girl of faith for it to be so painful. Ironic, huh?”

  “Who are you?” Moth resisted the temptation to bare her fangs, just in case he was simply a nutjob who didn’t really know what he was talking about. Considering the blessed silver chains and the crossbow, she doubted that was true, but it offered some comfort while her mind raced to figure a way out of here.

  The young guy with spiky blond hair and dark eyes leaned forward as he smiled at her, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. His face was flooded with candlelight.

  “You,” whispered Moth.

  “Jason Murdoch, at your service. Sorry that Dad couldn’t be here to say ‘hi.’”

  “You’re Thomas Murdoch’s son?”

  He nodded, looking pleased that she’d figured it out. “Jace. I’d shake your hand, but you’re a little tied up over there.”

  Moth was fighting a nauseating combination of fury and panic. This little (Okay, not so little) bastard was Jace Murdoch, son of the vampire hunter that had plagued Theo over the last few months? Theo had assured her it was safe to break into Thomas Murdoch’s apartment at this time of night—he hunted during the witching hour—but there had been no mention of a hunter-in-training sharing space with Daddy. She mentally kicked herself. Hard. Why had she listened to Theo? She should’ve cased the job herself.

  Jace shifted position again, leaning back and resting the crossbow on the arm of the chair. A silver ring flashed in his left eyebrow, something she hadn’t noticed downstairs in the foyer. He’d also taken off his jacket and was dressed simply in a white T-shirt and
blue jeans, his powerful forearms covered in ink that led her to believe he might be older than she’d first thought. Moth squinted, managing to make out some kind of Celtic band around his right arm—the one that guided the crossbow and was as steady as a rock—and something that might have been a dragon or a phoenix on his left.

  “What are you doing here?” Moth was glad to hear that her voice was strong.

  He raised an eyebrow, the one with the piercing. “I live here.” Jace must have seen the surprise on her face, because he shrugged. “Well, some of the time. I’m away at school mostly, but I spend whatever breaks I get back here in Ironbridge.”

  Moth tested the handcuffs that bit into her wrists. The pain was intense, but she tugged at them again and had to swallow a cry of triumph as she felt something give. Not enough—not yet—but maybe soon. “I don’t know what you’re bothering with school for if you’re going into the family business with Daddy.” She kept her tone light, mocking, hoping to distract her captor.

  He grinned, and this time it seemed more genuine. “You don’t know anything about me, but I know plenty about you.” He stood and grabbed something that had been lying on the floor by his feet. Before she could see what it was, he approached—still keeping his weapon trained on her—and held the mirror up in front of her.

  He glanced down, tilting his head slightly, and gazed back at her. “Well, would you look at that? No reflection. Just like downstairs.”

  Moth wanted to kick out at him so desperately she could taste it, but he stayed just out of reach. He threw the mirror down and grasped the crossbow in both hands, pointing it higher, this time at her forehead.

  Taking a deep breath, Moth tried to catch his eye in just the right way. If she could snare him in her gaze, she might be able to weaken his will enough to get him to free her.

  Jace shook his head. “Uh, uh, no you don’t little vampire.” He produced her sunglasses from the pocket of his jeans and slowly approached her from the side. “Stay right there like a good girl. I think you’ll look a lot better in these, when you can’t use those pretty eyes on me.”

  Infuriating as it was, Moth could do nothing as he placed the shades awkwardly over her eyes. One side wasn’t sitting properly over her ear, but that was because she struggled despite the crossbow pointing at her head. Surely if he really wanted her dead, she’d already be a pile of ash. Moth tried to tell herself that. It helped.

  And, bizarre as it sounded—even to herself—Jace Murdoch didn’t seem like such a bad guy. Well, if you didn’t count the fact that he’d shot her with a tranquilizer dart (or something like it) and then tied her up in the toughest silver she’d ever heard of. And if you ignored the fact that he was holding a crossbow with the razor-sharp bolt locked and loaded.

  Right.

  Moth bared her fangs and hissed as he backed away, always keeping her in his line of sight. What the hell; might as well go for the whole vampire-show, see if she could shake his confidence.

  He assumed his position back in the chair, seeming unaffected by her fangs. She couldn’t help thinking that she probably looked sort of comical, tied up and helpless and wearing a pair of tacky oversized shades.

  Confirming her suspicions, Jace grinned. “You look cute, you know that?”

  “Screw yourself.”

  “That’s no language for a lady.”

  Moth shifted position on the hard floor, using the movement to disguise the fact that she’d pulled the chain linking the handcuffs apart a little further. She couldn’t see what she was doing, but she could feel it; every tug shot burning pain into her wrists. Even though she didn’t like taking human blood from a live donor (and she liked the taste even less) she was seriously tempted to bite this guy when she got free. Just to scar him as surely as she would have to bear the scars of silver burns for the rest of her very long life.

  Jace said, “You’re not going to get out of those, you know.”

  Moth smirked at him in what she hoped was an irritating way. “Why the hell would I want to escape when you’re such fascinating company?”

  She watched him as he shifted the crossbow to his other hand while he checked his cell phone. “You waiting for Daddy to call?”

  “Cute.” Jace narrowed his eyes. “What’s your name, little vampire?”

  What would it hurt, to give him that? “Moth.”

  He shook his head. “Your real name. Not your stupid vampire name.”

  “That is my real name.” Now, anyway. Now and forever.

  He smiled that nasty smile again; not the flash of genuine humor she’d seen earlier. “Whatever you say, Moth.”

  “What do you care what I’m called? You’re going to kill me, anyway.”

  “You’re already dead, as far as I’m concerned. You were the very moment you were bitten.”

  Moth felt something like grief stir in her chest. “You don’t know that. Is that what your dad told you about us?” She swallowed. “Maybe you shouldn’t just take his word for everything, and go find out some of this stuff for yourself.”

  “As soon as I’ve got my degree, I’ll be traveling with him. That’s the deal.”

  “Hunting with him, don’t you mean?”

  He shrugged. “So what? You’re a hunter—you’re all predators. Vamps, werewolves … All monsters kill whatever and whoever they can to survive.” He gave her a hard look. “Don’t tell me you’ve never killed a human.”

  She was suddenly relieved he couldn’t see her eyes. Her mouth pulled into a tight line and she wished she were a better liar. “I don’t have to answer to you. You’re holding a freaking crossbow aimed at my heart.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” His lip curled. “You can’t even answer the question.”

  “I don’t owe you anything. You attacked me and tied me up, and then threatened to turn me into dust. How do you even know how long ago I was turned? Have you thought about that?”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Hasn’t Daddy told you? New vampires won’t just disintegrate into a convenient pile of ash. You’re going to end up with a lot of bodies that need to be disposed of. Have you got the stomach for that? How old are you, anyway? You’re just a kid …”

  Jace stood, his face twisted with anger. The crossbow trembled in his hand. “Shut your mouth, bloodsucker.”

  Moth felt sick, her arms hurt and her legs were heavy against the floor, but she was getting to him. Finally. She tested the cuffs one last time and then pulled, thankful that her silver-induced weakness didn’t stop her from breaking the bonds. The chain snapped, though that still left her wrists encased in the blessed metal. But so what? She could use her hands again, which was all that mattered.

  Jace was much closer now. He seemed younger and less sure of himself. Moth licked her lips and shook her hair out of her eyes, dislodging the precariously perched sunglasses. They hit the ground just as Jace aimed the crossbow at her head. Moth was sure she could hear his heart beating, could almost taste his fear. The hunter’s son probably had a lot to prove to Daddy. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

  She smiled at him, despite the fear that fluttered in her chest like a trapped bird. “You’re aiming at the wrong place. My heart’s a lot lower than that.”

  She watched, with a curious mixture of anger and compassion, as he swallowed. She could see his throat work as he licked his lips. He was almost in reach of her legs. Almost …

  “Nice setup you’ve got here.” Moth braced her palms against the floor. “Your dad must earn a lot of money dusting vamps, huh?”

  A single bead of sweat trickled down Jace’s temple. She wondered what it would taste like, whether she would get the chance to taste him.

  His foot moved forward—one more step—and it was enough.

  Moth moved. She pushed her hands down and flipped her legs up, slamming her bound feet into his knee and hearing the satisfying crunch of bone.

  Jace collapsed, howling with pain. The crossbow fell beside him and rele
ased its deadly bolt, whizzing past Moth’s ear and landing with a thunk just below the window as it buried itself in the aged plaster. Moth’s momentum had carried her on top of her would-be captor. Her legs were hopelessly bound with those thick chains, but she still managed to roll onto her knees and pin Jace to the ground.

  His face was the color of raw putty as he struggled beneath her, surprising her with his human strength despite the injury, but she held him with ease.

  “Quit moving around.” Moth smiled sweetly. “You don’t want to hurt yourself now, do you?” She’d just broken the guy’s kneecap, and she knew she was being a cow but … what the hell. He deserved it.

  Even without the use of her legs—even with the broken silver cuffs still circling her wrists—Moth was stronger than him. Despite the difference in their sizes, she pushed down on his arms and lay on top of him with her knees resting between his legs. If she pressed her knees in just the right way, Jace was going to be in a lot more pain than he already was.

  “So,” she said, with a wicked smile. “Does your father know you do this kind of thing?”

  He took shallow breaths. “Of course he does. He trained me.”

  “And how old are you?”

  “How old are you?”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Eighteen.”

  “That’s when you were turned. How old are you? Really.”

  Moth pursed her lips and thought about playing with him some more. But what did she have to lose? “I’m twenty-eight.”

  Jace looked surprised. “You’ve been a vamp for ten years? No way.”

  “You’re saying I look younger? Aw, thanks.” She fluttered her eyelashes.

  Grimacing as he shifted position beneath her, he sucked in a breath. “No, I mean you seem younger. You act it.”