By Blood Sworn

by Jones, Janice

  “Not that bad,” Michael said. “Why?”

  The two men stopped a couple feet away. Alex could smell the bad cologne as it was carried by a breeze. She couldn’t see any weapons, but that didn’t mean anything these days. Those heavy boots weren’t for stomping grapes.

  “I guess the ladies love fast cars,” the other chuckled as he looked Alex over. “What do you say draguta (sweetheart)?” he grinned at her. “You into fast cars?”

  “Look, we don’t want any trouble,” Michael said as he stepped ahead of Alex.

  “I was talking to the lady,” he said with a rough Romanian accent. The grin disappeared. “Vampir murdar (dirty vampire)!”

  Michael took a step because he could speak Romanian too. They both laughed when Alex pulled him back and took his place in the guy’s personal space.

  “Care a fost draga nepoliticos (that was rude, sweetheart),” she replied.

  The men grinned at each other. Then the second man moved up to his partner as he pushed his hands in his pockets. His light brown hair was spiked on top and cut close on the sides.

  One side of his mouth curled as he looked down on her. “Fata dura (tough girl),” he growled in perfect Romanian.

  Alex replied, “Mai dure decat crezi (tougher than you think).”

  His movement was fluid and fast. His knee came up and his foot whipped out. The hiking boot swept past Alex’s face as she stepped to one side then pushed his leg away.

  He seemed surprised at how fast she was. Then he seemed even more surprised when she came up behind him and punched him in the left kidney. As his knees buckled from the blow, his friend approached Michael just as quickly.

  “Are you as tough?” the man said to Michael.

  “Why don’t you take a swing and found out?” he smiled.

  This man was about Michael’s height but much heavier. The bulkiness of his body was matched only by the boulders that were his fists. Per Michael’s invitation, he took a swing and missed. Not to be outdone, Michael held back, just a bit, on his jab. It snapped his head back, but he shook it like a dazed dog and came back for more.

  His right hook took Michael by surprise. It was solid and twisted his head to the right. As Michael thought, the man’s hands were like rocks and the impact of the punch rattled Michael’s teeth. When he picked Michael up by the front of his t-shirt, his jaw was set tight and his eyes flared with hate. He grunted as he tossed Michael into the air.

  When he landed on the windshield of their SUV, Michael felt his own natural defenses kick into high gear. The feeling of his fangs as they cut through his gums hurt like hell, but that’s what happens when a vampire gets angry. When his vision sharpened on his attacker, the taste of his own blood granted him permission to kill.

  Then the sound of glass as it shattered into a million pieces drew Michael’s attention to Alex. Her opponent was knee deep in someone’s passenger side window. She pulled the door open wider so that he was stuck between the car and the tangled metal of the now useless door.

  Michael was up and off the SUV before the man could get to him. His razor-sharp nails swiped smoothly across his opponent’s face as he tried to carve his name in the man’s cheek. While the man grabbed his bloody face, Michael pulled a metal pole from the cement and swung it like a bat. The man’s head snapped to the right as Michael forced the sharp end of the pole into his gut. A wounded cry escaped into the night as he went down on both knees trying to pull the pole loose.

  “Is that tough enough for ya?” Michael hissed as he walked around the man, took hold of the bloody metal pole and with a quick jerk, pulled it through him. Face down in the dusty parking lot, the ground turned red as the rest of his blood pooled under his body. Michael licked the blood from his palm then spit it on the dying mess.

  Alex and her attacker traded hooks and body punches as Michael looked for something else to use as a weapon. Before he could reach them, Alex landed at his feet. She wiped away the blood from a gash on her cheek as she stood up. She wobbled and Michael caught her before she fell.

  “Need some help?” Michael asked as she shrugged out of his hold, rolled her sleeves up and wiped her bloody hand on her jeans.

  “No thanks,” she replied in a huff. “I got it.”

  With that, she ran at the other man at full speed. He had a wide catcher’s stance as he blocked the roundhouse then the right hook. His powerful thighs pushed the seams at the sides of his pants as he kicked her into the light pole with a laugh. The ring on his right hand sent sparks over her head as it scratched the metal and missed her face.

  Her tuck-and-roll was perfect. She was on her feet then on his back before he knew what was happening. They whirled in increasingly desperate circles as Alex wrapped her arm around his neck and applied so much pressure that he was forced to his knees, which gave her time to readjust her hold on him. With her feet on the ground again, she grabbed the back of his head and slammed him, face first, into the light pole. Michael heard his nasal cavity crunch on impact. Then he heard the familiar pop as Alex broke his neck in one smooth motion.

  She dropped to her knees, fishing her phone from her back pocket as he approached.

  “Two bodies,” she coughed as she held her side. “I need this cleaned up now.” She slipped the device back in her pocket then looked up at Michael. “You okay?”

  His hand hovered over her. “Yeah,” he sighed, pulling her to her feet again. “You?”

  She just nodded as she leaned over, placing her hands on her knees and pushing out a hard breath. “You should get out of here before someone sees you. I can take it from here.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “I don’t think I’m gonna need a lawyer,” she tried to smile, but the cut on her cheek turned it into a grimace. “Not this time, anyway.”

  He wanted to protest, but she was right. He had to leave or risk someone showing up that could blow his cover story. “Call me later. I just wanna be sure you’re alright.”

  “Michael,” she sighed as she stood up straight again. “Best non-date ever.”

  In her personal space, Michael took in the smell of her blood when he inhaled. The combination of blood, sweat, and anger mixed as it hit his brain then his stomach. An overwhelming urge to feed from her came on like a blow to his head.

  “This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time,” he grinned at her. Without really knowing why, he reached out to touch her face where the blood was. She caught his hand with a shake of her head.

  “Glad you had a good time,” she replied as she forced his hand back down.

  “How are you going to explain this to the cops?” he said. “I mean, I could help.”

  “No, you can’t. And the cops won’t be involved, so no worries there.”

  “You got a little dizzy there for a second, what happened?”

  He watched her roll that question around in her head.

  “Not the first time I’ve been clocked like that,” she answered. “He was stronger than he looked.”

  Michael’s ears began to ring as the sound of big vehicles rose from the distance. They were maybe ten miles out but coming in fast. He would have to go in the opposite direction to avoid them.

  “Go,” she said, then spun him around and nudged him forward. “Now.”

  Safe inside his car, he sped away with one last look in his rearview. There she was, crouched over the body, going through his pockets like a thief. He shook his head with a smile.

  “Couldn’t be helped, huh?” he asked as he tapped the device in his gloved hand without even a glance at her. Alex watched the cleanup team work quickly. Some questioned the staff. Others, dressed as police, took statements they’d toss later, after insurance claims were paid and people were happy again. “Mr. Ramsey would like to speak with you when you get a chance. We’ll get you to your plane when you’re ready.”

 
“Where are the bodies going now?” Alex asked as they were place into heavy plastic bags on gurneys, zipped in, and wheeled away.

  “Dr. Carlisle’s lab,” he answered. When he closed the cover on the small table, he held it behind him and stared at her. “Do you need medical attention, ma’am?”

  “I’ll take care of it on the plane,” she answered.

  He just nodded with a bored expression on his face. From the looks of it, he’d been pulled from bed. A faint bath soap smell hung in the air and he needed a shave. His flight jacket was navy blue with gold and white stripes around the wrist, hem, and collar. With S.A.M. stitched over his heart, he looked more like an exterminator than anything.

  “It’s not a problem,” he replied. She shook her head, and he nodded again, then excused himself politely.

  A happy-go-lucky recruit trotted in her direction. She tossed an identical flight jacket at Alex with a smile. “When you’re ready, I’ll escort you to the plane. Your team and Mr. Stavros have been briefed. Mr. Craig will meet us at the gate.”

  “Great. Let’s go,” Alex replied as she slipped the jacket on and followed her escort to a black SUV, unmarked and running.

  Chapter 12

  “Jesus,” Cory heard Tommie whisper right next to him. “What the hell is this place?”

  He wasn’t sure how to answer that question as his flashlight jumped from strange device to even stranger device while they crept through the warehouse. Some of the equipment looked decades old, some centuries old. Big, human-sized cages sat in the far corner covered in dust and rust from what he could see. Wes bumped into a steel table and the sound echoed everywhere.

  “Be careful,” he rasped as Wes rubbed his hip bone and nodded.

  “What do you think this is for?” they both heard Tommie ask.

  As Cory turned in his direction, his flashlight lit up the old-fashioned device. It was made of colored glass and looked like a giant genie’s bottle—like from that old television show. There was clear plastic tubing attached to the lid and metal spouts all around the bottom with small white teacups positioned beneath them. Cory stood next to Tommie and reached out to touch one of the spouts. It was cold. When he pulled his finger back, it was covered in a dusty, rose-colored residue. He sniffed it then wiped it on his jeans.

  “What does it smell like?” Tommie whispered.

  “Dust,” Cory answered and stifled a sneeze. “It’s just dust.”

  Tommie directed his light on the glass container as he stepped closer. “Then what’s that?” He put his face close to the glass and frowned.

  Cory did the same. Inside was something thick and dark. When Tommie pushed the bottle, it sloshed heavy and sticky on the sides. Cory knew in that moment what it was. He knew what all the strange devices were.

  “Let’s go,” he said as he pulled Tommie away and toward the door.

  “What’s wrong?” Wes asked as he opened a small container and sniffed. “This shit is freaking awesome! Let’s take something as proof.”

  “No,” Cory growled as he pulled Tommie toward the door. “Leave it, Wes. We’re outta here!”

  The dizzy feeling came on all of a sudden. He lost his grip on Tommie’s sleeve as his knees gave out. Inches of dust puffed up around him as Cory landed on the floor. Voices came at him from all directions, and he pressed his hands to his ears to block them. But they weren’t coming from outside; they were inside his head. When he squeezed his eyes shut, he saw a woman in a parking lot somewhere. She was fighting like some crazy ninja. The man on the attack scratched her cheek with a silver blade of some sort and Cory felt it: that burn of skin separating and then the feel of blood as it slid down her cheek.

  “Help her,” he moaned as his friends pulled him from the floor.

  “Help who?” Tommie said. “Cory! Who do we need to help?”

  And just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Cory’s eyes opened wide and adjusted to the flashlight in his face. He pushed Wes’s light away then Tommie’s.

  “What happened?” Cory whispered as he looked around confused and afraid.

  “You saw someone who needed help,” Tommie answered. “Who did you see Cory? Can you describe her?”

  Cory stared at the darkness in the distance and tried to bring the memory back, but it was gone. As they helped him to an old desk chair, Wes kneeled in front of him.

  “Cory,” he said calmly. “Can you describe the woman you just saw?”

  “No.”

  “Try,” Tommie hissed down on them.

  “It’s gone,” Cory whined and shook his head.

  Wes mumbled something Cory couldn’t understand, then he stood up. Tommie moved behind Cory and before he could react, Tommie jerked his arms behind his back as Wes pulled a syringe from his jacket pocket. When the entire space filled with light, Cory knew he was in trouble.

  “What the fuck?” Cory barked and struggled, but Tommie had an iron grip on him.

  “I’m sorry, buddy,” Wes replied then held the syringe high. A small bit of whatever was in it shot up in the air. “You should have tried harder to remember.”

  “Remember what?”

  “Was it her?” Tommie grunted in his ear. “We need something to go on.”

  Cory struggled, but he was tired, too tired to get loose. Then the prick of the needle in his neck got his attention. The mixture burned as it spread through his neck and down his body until everything below his chin was numb. He barely felt the army guys enter the room, pick him up from the floor, and load him onto the gurney they brought with them.

  All the action around him seemed watery and slow. The voices were distorted by the drug spreading through his system like wildfire. After he was strapped to a table, he was covered in a thin, white blanket. He counted the light fixtures in the ceiling as he was rolled out the door. Ten. He counted ten old, gray flood lights. Was that important? If he was going to die, then no.

  “Get him back to the lab,” he saw Wes’s lips move, but his voice was so mangled he wasn’t even sure it was Wes anymore. The man he gave the order to saluted him and he returned the gesture.

  He felt the bump of the gurney being loaded into the back of the ambulance. The doors being slammed shut sent a pain through his head. The last thing he saw was Tommie’s wavy image over him as they bounced down the road.

  “Sorry,” he heard Tommie say. “I’m really sorry about this, Cory. Maybe the autopsy will tell us more.”

  Cory’s brain registered that because he tried to get loose. When the blackness came Cory thought he heard someone call him a test subject. Then they called him a failure, just like the rest. Cory wanted to hold on to consciousness, but it slipped away from him. His last thought was he hoped the autopsy wouldn’t tell them a damn thing.

  After Michael assured Mistress Bianca that Alex was fine—better than fine, she was freaking fantastic—her personal driver rushed him to the private plane gate at McCarran. The rushed shower and change of clothes refreshed him, but his pulse still raced from the fight. It raced from the memory of her in action too. She had hesitated for half a moment, and that’s why the Romanian was able to almost slice the side of her face off. Michael wondered what could have caused her to pause like that. She wasn’t afraid. In fact, she looked like she enjoyed the fight more than she should have. Well, he didn’t have time to figure it out now. His father expected a report.

  As he crossed the tarmac to the Gulf Stream, his phone buzzed in his hand.

  “Alex,” he sighed as he climbed the stairs and joined his brothers inside. “Are you okay?”

  Her voice battled over the background noise on her side. “I’m fine,” she yelled. “I just wanted to make sure you got home in one piece. No one followed, right?”

  “No,” he answered as he shushed his brothers and buckled up. When the engines roared to life, he hoped she didn’t notice. “What’s all the
noise?”

  “Clean up,” she said. “Thanks for the help.”

  “My pleasure,” he replied.

  In the air, the landing gear went up, and Michael took the bottled blood his brother Sean handed him.

  “Look,” he heard her say with less noise in the background, “I have to ask you for a huge favor, Michael.”

  He emptied the bottle and nodded for another. That fight took more out of him than he thought. “Anything.”

  “You can’t tell anyone what you saw me do out there,” she said.

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” Michael replied lightly, despite the feeling of a stone settling in the pit of his stomach. He was about to report everything he saw to his family. “But I’m still not really sure what happened. Who were those guys anyway?”

  “When I find out, you’ll be the first to know,” she replied with a bit of humor.

  “Thanks,” he said. “When can I see you again?”

  “Well, I’m leaving the country for about a week,” she said. “I’ll call you when I get back. I owe you one.”

  “No, you don’t,” Michael said. “But I like that you think you do, so I’m gonna let you pay me back.”

  He heard someone yell her name and she told them to give her a minute.

  “I gotta go. Thanks again for the save.”

  She was gone before he could say goodbye.

  “So,” Sean hummed with a small grin on his face, “how was Vegas?”

  “Boring,” Michael grinned back as he flashed his bruised chin at his brother. “How’d you guys get here so fast?”

  Raphael, the brother with a genius IQ, came down the narrow aisle from the cockpit. Their pilot always let him land and take off. It was sort of a running ritual now. “We were done in LA, and Con said you got your ass kicked, so we came to pick up the pieces.”

  They laughed as Michael emptied the second bottle. His head stopped hurting and his spine snapped back into place. He could feel his cracked ribs mending too.

  “I didn’t get my ass kicked, but thanks for the lift.”