Deathless (The Vein Chronicles Book 2)

by Anne Malcom

  And then I’d walked out. Before I too had to face my own monsters in the dark.

  I went back into the light in Thorne’s living room, faced his attractive eyes and saw the monster anyway.

  Then he distracted me with a suggestion that made me accuse him of making a joke, despite it being impossible.

  “I’m not joking,” he said with a grim face.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I know that, Thorne,” I hissed. “Because you don’t joke about shit, even the serious shit which this is. Which makes it worse. Because I’m totally partial to any inappropriate, borderline-sick jokes, and I would encourage their use in any situation. But I know you have a weird thing about mentioning killing babies, even in jest, so I know you’re serious. Which means I’ll have to very seriously say I’d rather hack my arm off with rusty garden shears. And I’m not joking. I will literally hack off my own arm rather than do what you’re suggesting. Which is, just in case you’ve had some kind of break from reality, us going for a little visit to your big old slayer compound and having a chat with the head of the faction here in the continental US. You know, the one who will most likely want to kill me.” I waved my hand. “All of that sounds fine, fun even. You know how much I like going to a party where everyone wants to kill me. Small talk is incredibly dull.”

  He raised his brow. “You’re okay with that entire part of the plan?”

  I gave him a look. “Um, of course. Fighting? Check. Potential to kill people who piss me off? Check. Risking my undeath in new and exciting ways? Check. All of the things I want in a romantic getaway with my man.”

  “Well then, what are you fucking mad about?” he asked in exasperation.

  I raised my brow at him. “Um, that it’s in fucking Oklahoma. I hate Oklahoma. Can’t we schedule it in Vegas instead? The City of Sin hasn’t seen a real sinner until they’ve met me.”

  His jaw ticked. “Fuck,” he muttered.

  And apparently that was him resigning himself to the fact that me going to Slayerville headquarters was not going to end well.

  A girl could only hope.

  Chapter 11

  “Sorry, we have to… um… ah,” the young man stuttered as he blocked my entrance through the slatted gate, the only entrance to the facility which was fenced at least seven feet high with electric wire by the sounds of the gentle hum emanating from it.

  It was topped with barbed wire. Overkill, if you asked me. And a total waste. If some supernatural creature did want to punish themselves by coming to fucking Oklahoma, they wouldn’t let a little thing like three thousand volts and a little pointy metal stop them. In fact, that would most likely be the only fun part of the entire trip.

  Well, the most fun part would undoubtedly be killing the slayers who resided behind the fence. The low hum was easy. The fifty or so thundering heartbeats?

  A pre-turned vampire would be able to pick that shit up.

  I smirked at the quivering mess in front of me. Had Thorne not been standing beside me, his heartbeat would’ve been near deafening with its frantic and loud palpitations.

  As it was, no human’s, werewolf’s, or witch’s heartbeat could rival the gentle thump of Thorne’s. I’d grown used to it; like his presence, I didn’t likely know what I’d be able to do without it.

  I didn’t like that thought.

  Nor did I like the near-paralyzing fear at even thinking about going without Thorne’s heartbeat.

  Onwards.

  “Sorry you have to what?” I asked. “Be more of a sniveling human? Give it a try but I think you’re already there, sweetheart.”

  He swallowed visibly, and I noted the way the veins in his throat did so. Despite the gentle burn in my own throat, thanks to the fact that I was yet to give myself a little respite in the form of laevisomnus the vein didn’t look appealing to me. In fact, it was almost… unappealing. Not that I’d tell anyone that; it would give more credence to the whole prophecy thing that everyone was stuck on.

  Though me violently evacuating the blood from the human in the back of the van hadn’t exactly helped.

  The ambrosia of Thorne’s blood was right beside me, highlighting the difference between the finest wine in the world and water from the gutters.

  I gave his neck a glance and the dull ache in my throat quickly turned into an inferno that rivaled the first thirst after turning. I could hear the blood and its journey around his body, which I followed up the column of his neck to his eyes, hard and expressionless and looking at me with confusion, worry and a little desire at my hunger-filled gaze.

  I snapped myself out of it. Quickly breaking from Thorne’s gaze, I moved back to the human, glaring at him expectantly.

  “We can’t let you through,” he said, eyes more than a little unsteady as he glanced to me, then Thorne, then the other slayer and vampire behind us.

  I glared at him. “And why the fuck not? We traveled here, to Oklahoma. We sure as hell didn’t come for the scenery and food. We came here to sing ‘Kumbaya’ with the slayer bigwigs. Maybe you didn’t get the memo as to who I am. I’m Isla, the vampire. You know, the fabulous, attractive one who saved a fuck ton of your brethren from becoming worm food? Yeah, that one.” I smiled sweetly at him. “I’m going to put that ignorance on your ancestry, which you can’t really be blamed for. Now move, Skippy. I’ve got a plane to get on when this is over with. And a chemical bath to get all this nature filth off me.”

  I screwed my nose up at the expanses of grassed area and rolling hills full of more fucking grass.

  The kid looked like he might step aside, or have an asthma attack. I was hoping for the latter, just for some entertainment. Then he was pushed brutally to the side so he smacked into the tin guard house with a resounding whack.

  I glanced at the hulking man who did so with interest. Even I wasn’t planning on being that brutal with him, and he was technically my not-immortal enemy.

  This one gave me serious No Neck vibes. Although he did have a neck, and a head of hair that looked like John Stamos and Rob Schneider had a drunken night together and this was their unfortunate love child. The hair, not the man. He was bulky, so the obviously slayer-issue GI Joe outfit he was wearing almost burst at the seams.

  Not natural, the muscles. The slightly sweet twang to his blood told me that.

  I decided to christen him Roid.

  “You’re not going within five more feet of that facility until we search you for weapons,” Roid declared, crossing his meaty arms on top of his chest, which boasted boobs bigger than mine. He glared at me in disdain. In hatred, in fact.

  I didn’t know why; I wasn’t the one who gave him the D cup.

  “And it’s going to be a thorough fucking search, since it’s a vampire bitch walking through my door. You ain’t going anywhere until I’m satisfied you’re no threat.”

  Thorne stepped forward, his fury coursing through his veins. And mine. “You better—”

  I put my hand up. “I’m gonna cut off your no doubt very masculine and threatening statement, honey,” I said sweetly, giving him a smile. “Given the fact that I’m very capable of taking care of myself, you know, because I’m a vampire. And a strong, independent, and bloodthirsty one at that.” I blew him a kiss. “I totally appreciate the gesture, though. I’ll thank you for it. Later. For now….” I moved my eyes back to Roid, who was now glaring at Thorne.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself, Thorne. Betraying not just the entire line but your fuckin’ species, going to bed with a dead thing,” he spat.

  Again Thorne seethed, making to charge forward. Silver helpfully held him back.

  Roid was a writhing mess on the ground before he could heave his considerable bosom in my direction again. Thankfully too, since it was gross.

  His screams were, as expected, high-pitched and girlier than Scott’s.

  I put my heeled foot on his throat for dramatic effect more than anything. His broken femur was more than ample enough to make sure he was no trouble to me.

&n
bsp; “Isla,” Thorne warned, though there was a reasonable amount of satisfaction in his tone.

  I glanced at him. “Yes?”

  “Don’t kill him,” he ordered.

  I pouted. “But I want to.”

  He gave me another look.

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I sighed. “You never let me have any fun.”

  “Cock-whipped,” Duncan muttered under his breath.

  My head snapped back to the Scotsman who was leisurely leaning against the electric fence, his body only vibrating slightly with the volts going through it. His eyes danced with challenge.

  “You can kill him,” Thorne conceded, eyes following mine.

  I stretched my lips into a smile, my fangs protruding at the motion. “You promise?”

  Duncan grinned. “You can fuckin’ try.”

  “Thousand bucks on Isla,” Silver shot at Thorne, whom he was still loosely restraining.

  Thorne shrugged out of his hold with an ease that told me he could have done so even when his friend had actually been trying. Though he probably would’ve dislocated Silver’s shoulder, which wouldn’t have given me any pause, but I knew Thorne was weird about stuff like that.

  “No fuckin’ way I’m takin’ that bet,” Thorne told him, crossing his arms at me. “I like my money.”

  “No, you like rogering this one, that’s what.” Duncan nodded to me. “Which you wouldn’t be doing on account of the fact that she’d chop ye cock off if you did take that bet, for which you’d win that thousand bucks, by the way,” Duncan continued with a grin.

  “Can I kill him now?” I gritted out.

  Thorne laughed, glancing down to the idiot who was still screaming like a five-year-old, then pointedly to the men still holding guns, though they seemed a little perturbed at our conversation.

  I followed his gaze. “Oh right,” I muttered. I put some more pressure on Roid’s neck, just for fun, then fastened my erratic attention on him. “So, where was I?” I asked him.

  He let out a mew of protest as my heel drew blood. I glanced at the crimson dot with disinterest.

  “Oh right, we were at the part where you insulted my boyfriend, and me and my entire race. But not before you tried to exert whatever little authority you’ve been given in order to compensate for the shrinkage situation given to you by narcotics that give you muscles and yet no strength.” I paused, pretending to think. “Yeah, I think that’s where we were. I’ll tell you something now, for free.” I glanced at his leg. “Well maybe not for free, but a snapped femur is still a bargain price for this little gem.” I moved my gaze around to the men holding the weapons. “Oh, and you better listen up too, toy soldiers,” I added on an afterthought, just in case one of the dimwits actually decided to pull a trigger. “I don’t need those weapons created for weak men to have power without strength. Or destruction upon a world that’s already been ravaged enough by humanity’s greed and treachery. No, I don’t need any of those fancy weapons.”

  I paused, opening my mouth slightly so my fangs ran seductively—or at least I liked to think so—along my bottom lip. “I am the weapon, gentlemen. Because since before your fuckin’ grandfathers were having wet dreams about lifting your grandmothers’ petticoats, I was here. Well, not here in Oklahoma, because I’m not fucking insane, but here on this ruined planet. You know what I was doing? Wreaking fucking havoc. And I can do that with my little finger. You know what I can do with my entire body?” I waited for them to feast their eyes on such a body. One did not prepare a monologue like that and not go for dramatic pauses. It wasn’t my first rodeo. Or even my hundred and first. “Total fucking destruction,” I said on a whisper that even meager human ears could pick up.

  I took my foot off Roid’s neck, who had finally gone quiet and was just rolling around moaning. Not great, but preferable to screaming. I scowled down at him.

  “This did not go well for you,” I informed him happily. “Like not at all. At least act like a man in the face of a broken bone. Might keep whatever illusion of masculinity a steroid shot and a small dick will give you.”

  I stepped over his prone body and frowned at the keypad on the gate, deciding to completely ignore the men with the guns. I could hear the whispered conversation one of them was having with their superior over their hidden earpiece.

  He wasn’t happy, but they were going to let me in. They were just planning to make some sort of song and dance in order to scrape up some of the dignity Roid had scattered all over the ground.

  As mentioned, this performance was mine and I did not like sharing the spotlight.

  So I put my hand on the metal of the gate and gave a reasonable yank, expecting it to be at least reinforced with something supernaturals couldn’t easily break.

  When I easily ripped it off its hinges and held it in my hands, I realized it wasn’t.

  “Idiot humans,” I muttered to myself, throwing the gate to the side where it noisily clattered on the concrete. Not before almost hitting one of the gunmen straight in the forehead, had he not ducked.

  I grinned at him. “Nice reflexes, Skippy.” I gave him a thumbs-up for kicks.

  I turned to see Thorne shaking his head with an iron jaw, Silver gaping at me, and Duncan grinning.

  Mad Scotsmen.

  The most fun.

  “Well, shall we?” I asked with impatience.

  Thorne was the first to move, as always. When he moved in step with me, I gave him a sideways glance.

  “You know, chivalry is not dead. You could open a door for me every now and then.”

  He gave me a look. “You mean rip a four-hundred-pound solid steel gate off its hinges for you.”

  I nodded while giving him my ‘of course’ look.

  He grinned. “Next one, baby, I’ll get.”

  “You better, or you’re not getting lucky tonight.”

  “Oh I’m totally fuckin’ getting lucky tonight, if we survive this,” he muttered as the warehouse doors opened to our welcoming party.

  One might’ve called it a small army.

  “Oh, all of this for little old me?” I called to them. “I’m just so flattered. If I’d known it was going to be like this, I would’ve baked a pie, or at least brought a bottle of wine.”

  No one seemed to be very interested in the social graces of a vampire visiting a compound full of humans who were bred to kill her.

  And Duncan was there. But he would’ve pissed off human, vampire, werewolf, witch or demon, so surely his reception was pretty much normal.

  Then again, the same could’ve been said for me.

  An older man stood out in front of the men in the slayer commander outfits, looking like he should have been in Florida driving a convertible jeep and banging a woman half his age, not standing in front of armed GI Joes on steroids preparing to converse with a vampire, her prophesized mate who was technically meant to be on the other side of the standoff, his best friend, and a vampire assistant there for kicks.

  Literal kicks.

  I didn’t miss the one he landed on Roid when he’d walked past him.

  I was reasonably sure it caused moderate to severe internal bleeding. So fun.

  The man had short hair that was slicked into something I wouldn’t rightly call a quiff, but it was something in the same family. Less hair wax, perhaps. It was still jet-black in most places, the silver that cut through working in a George Clooney kind of way. The George Clooney theme continued with his weathered tanned skin that was somehow still fresh enough to not look tired and old, but wizened and mature.

  He was wearing a linen button down, casual slacks and Chuck Taylors.

  All around him men were wearing combat boots and Glocks. I was reasonably sure he wasn’t carrying.

  I stored that and saw past the easy demeanor he was trying to portray by all of these things alone. Everything in his persona was deliberate.

  Meant to throw me off.

  Still not my first rodeo.

  I opened my mouth to say hello, but a
firm hand on my wrist stopped me. “I’ve got this,” Thorne muttered in my ear.

  The rough command in his tone combined with the fact that he didn’t give me sufficient time to argue meant he was successful when he stood slightly in front of me.

  “Alexus,” he greeted, nodding slightly in a gesture of respect. However, his jaw remained hard and the single word was clipped out in a way that told me the respect was grudging at best.

  Alexus smiled in patronizing satisfaction at the small gesture, which of course made me hate him immediately.

  If I hadn’t already just on principle. Just because I was in love with one slayer didn’t mean I automatically wanted to preserve the lives of the rest.

  “Thorne,” he greeted. “You’ve always been one of our best soldiers and yet you continue to surprise me by bringing in a vampire who is still a corpse, just not a dead one. Not yet anyway.”

  Yeah, I hated the guy.

  “Easy,” Thorne muttered to me, moving his hand back to squeeze mine as if he sensed that I was inches away from darting forward to snap his neck.

  I glared at the back of his head but stayed put.

  Alexus had watched the entire exchange with the shrewd eyes of a leader watching his enemy’s moves and storing away every single one for future use.

  I knew the look because I was doing the same.

  I noted the gaps in his formation, the men who were shifting back and forth in unease, the one who kept flickering his glance to the roof that told me, if I had been a human, that’s where the snipers were. But I wasn’t a human, so I knew their heartbeats and could tell there were fifty-five souls in the compound.