by Declan Finn
Yana frowned. “You make wolves sound like sheep of death.”
He shrugged. “No comment.” He held up the cigarette. “Pardon me, but I have to get a smoke.”
“Where should we be?” Yana asked.
Amanda took a slow, deep breath. “I don’t think we have anyone in the church. It is down the hallway.”
Jackie nodded. “Deal.” She punched Yana in the arm. “Come on, sexy. Let’s go set up shop.”
Amanda waited until they were out of her earshot before she sighed. She couldn’t imagine a good reason why Merle had sent them over, short of really being worried.
With what Misha did, aren’t we all?
Amanda opened the door and slid back into the room, quietly closing the door behind her. She turned back to Marco. He still lay on the bed, curled up into a ball. He had grown motionless, and no longer actively sweated. She moved towards him and was about to lay a hand on his shoulder when he turned.
Marco’s eyes had turned a bright, unnatural gold. His chin had developed a sudden five o’clock shadow (PM, not AM), and his nails had lengthened. His teeth had already grown visibly sharper.
He looked at Amanda like she was lunch.
Chapter 23
Dark Passion Play
Marco lunged for Amanda. Before she could stop him, he had her pinned to the wall by her wrists.
Then he kissed her. Her head thumped against the drywall, but she didn’t notice. The move was sudden and shocking, and she gasped as his tongue penetrated her mouth. Her stomach muscles clenched as he pressed against her.
Amanda’s breaths came in gasps, straining with exertion that she didn’t understand. A distant part of her brain told her that she should have seen this coming. He would have less impulse control as his dark side came closer to physical manifestation. And they had both known what his darker impulses wanted to do with her.
The more active part of her brain just didn’t care why. Her body strained with a hunger born of a century without passion.
Marco pressed the full length of his body against hers. She groaned when she felt herself being poked in the stomach. He released Amanda’s wrists, but the tips of his fingernails went to the pads of her fingers. Slowly, with control she wouldn’t have credited Marco with on his best days, his claws slid down her fingers, almost like a caress. The sharp nails lightly scratched over her palms, down the inside of her wrists, and into the crook of her elbow.
All the while, his kiss became more intense and wouldn’t let up. His arms slid down and around Amndas body, holding her against him. His hand moved up her spine, and his fingers pushed between her head and the drywall, burying into her hair. He held her prisoner in the kiss as he moved her from the wall, and carried her to the bed.
Amanda grabbed Marco’s head with both hands and pulled him away from the kiss. She looked into his eyes. They glowed so brightly, she was certain a human could read comfortably. His eyes were wild, but his teeth had pulled back, in response to Frenching her.
Amanda wrapped her legs around Marco, and pinned him against her so he couldn’t advance. She had to fight down the thrill it gave her to have him like that. She desperately wanted to fall into his madness.
“Marco,” she whispered. Her eyes searched his for signs of awareness. “Talk to me.”
His breaths came heavy, and each exhale sounded like a growl. His fingers tightened in her hair. His other hand slid down to her hip, gripping her flesh just enough to let her know it was there.
Amanda took several deep, slow breaths, calming herself. No matter how much she wanted Marco to continue where he wanted to, if he wasn’t in his right mind, this wasn’t going to happen. “I need to bite you now. I need—”
His eyes met hers, and she could see little in his mind, except for images of his intentions toward her. The only clear thought she could catch was more of a feeling, but it translated to It’s my turn to bite you.
The mental overload caused Amanda’s body to lurch. While that distracted her, Marco’s head shot forward, and his mouth went to her neck. It started as a kiss, but turned to sucking, and nibbling, and licking. Her arms tightened around his body as he continued to work her neck, hoping to hold him just long enough for her to figure out what to do. His bones began to creak under pressure, but he didn’t seem to notice.
Amanda tried to ignore the sensations flooding her mind and body, and held on. The main thing keeping her in line was the knowledge that moonrise hadn’t happened yet.
If Marco was half-transformed and out of control before the full moon had even come out, she didn’t want to imagine what would happen in another hour or two. She had to stop this now, while he still wasn’t a threat.
While he isn’t a physical threat, anyway.
Amanda popped out her fangs, and drove them down into Marco’s shoulder.
Marco tensed a little, jaw and fingers gripping harder. She was actually worried for a moment that he would draw blood…
Well, that’s a thought.
Amanda winced, and not from pain. Technically, she could speed up the process by having Marco drink her blood, but that could have had all sorts of nasty side effects, up to and including blood addiction, and becoming her puppet.
Then again, there are other ways to feed him bodily fluids.
That caused another wince, but for completely different reasons. There was so much to go wrong. If she went in that direction, there was no guarantee to prevent things from going too far. She couldn’t be certain about her actions, to heck with Marco’s.
Amanda sucked in some of Marco’s blood. She could taste the difference. His blood was filling with the lycanthropy virus—which meant that the virus surged during the full moon. Worse, it meant that the vampire virus in her saliva wasn’t suppressing it fast enough. She needed more virus in his system, as quick as possible.
Well, damn.
Amanda tightened her hug around Marco, reaching one hand towards another. She jabbed her left thumbnail into the web of flesh between her right thumb and index finger, using the nail the open the skin.
I hope this doesn’t make him a mindless minion.
She grabbed him by the back of the head, pulled his mouth away from her neck, and shoved the bloody wound into his mouth.
And Marco willingly, gleefully, drank Amanda’s blood. His throat visibly worked as he swallowed. He even bit down to squeeze out more blood.
After the fifth or sixth swallow, the reaction was immediate. His body racked, and he gasped. His hands went to the bed sheets, and gripped them so hard, they tore. He bit down harder and growled. But he drank deeper, despite the effect it had on him. His body thrashed, as though trying to escape, but his mouth stayed locked on her hand.
After a few more seconds, his entire body shook, like he was having an epileptic fit. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his body looked like it was about to shake apart. The bed clattered in response.
Amanda held onto Marco with her legs and held his head in place with both hands. He thrashed, and trembled, and couldn’t escape her grasp.
With one firm lurch, Amanda rolled them over, putting Marco on his back, hoping the mattress would help. As the seizures grew more violent, Amanda started to worry that he would seize so hard he would break his spine.
Marco’s back arched one more time, and stayed still for a long moment before he fell back to the bed. Amanda removed her hand from his mouth, and she felt his pulse. It was like a trip hammer. She reached down to his eye and pulled at the eyelid. His eyes were no longer a glowing gold, but their usual deep blue.
Marco let out a breath, then coughed, and cleared his throat before looking back to Amanda. He gave her a weak smile. “Well … That was less than fun.” He sagged against the mattress and let out another breath. Relaxing against the bed, he blinked slowly a few times. One hand patted her hip.
Then his smile returned, and he met her eyes. He squeezed her hip gently, and playfully flared his eyes. “Though I must admit, I could get used t
o this.”
Amanda frowned at him a moment, then became deeply aware of their position. She demurely moved off of Marco and settled next to him on the bed. “I’m sorry about the blood, but–”
Marco gave a single short laugh. “Please. I’m just glad you did it before I did.”
She raised a brow and looked at him. He was still flat on his back, but his left hand stroked her spine. “What?”
“There was a lot of noise in my head,” he explained, “but I knew I had to bite you. Though in my condition, it might have been to rip your throat out. Your guess is as good as mine.”
“I wouldn’t want you to become my minion,” she said.
He chuckled. It took him a minute, but he sat up. He caught himself before he tipped over. Once balanced, he gave her an amused look. “Too late.”
Amanda’s eyes widened, horrified as Marco turned around, and lowered himself to one knee before her. He bowed his head deeply. “Command me.”
“No! Marco, I–”
His hand shot up, and the tips of his middle three fingers pressed against her lips. He looked at her, a smile on his lips. “To be your minion is to let you into my mind, and do your bidding. Been there, done that. I already proposed to you. As far as I’m concerned, I already belong to you. I would already do anything for you. Let you into my mind for any reason.”
He slowly rose, leaning into her with a gentle, lingering kiss. He pulled back with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Command me however you like,” he whispered.
Amanda’s jaw dropped, and she felt more affected by that than all of their rolling around together. She hesitated. Finally, she said, “Cuddle with me.”
“I can manage that.”
Chapter 24
Ceremonies of the Damned
Yana sat on the floor of the church, behind the final pew in the back, and made little chalk circles in the four corners on the floor around her. Bundles of herbs and stones marked each circle. A pretty silver dagger sat on a black square of silk in front of her, ignored for now. She leaned forward and backwards and from side to side, making sure that she had all of the directions covered. She occasionally referred to the large book in her lap before making adjustments to her outlines.
Up against the wall, Jackie stood next to an open window. She had a lit cigarette that was only a cigarette. She watched her girlfriend work, blowing smoke out the window after each inhale, and flicking the ashes outside to join them. While she wasn’t big on religion or faith, she at least had enough respect not to make a mess, or leave the scent of tobacco lingering in the air.
As for what her girlfriend was doing? That was a different kettle of fish.
“It’s not really nice to leave a mess on the floor, is it?” she asked Yana.
The redhead kept working and didn’t even look in Jackie’s direction. “It’s just chalk and stones. We’re not going to damage anything.”
Jackie grimaced, looking around at the hovering statues of saints and angels in stained glass windows, then back to the markings. “But you’re not exactly being very respectful here.”
Yana gave a quick shrug. “It’s all the same thing. Christians just worship the White God. We’re just tapping into an aspect of it.”
Jackie arched a brow. “What do you mean we, pale face?” she muttered. She sighed, and said louder, “What exactly are you going to do?”
“First, we’re going to summon some nature spirits,” Yana continued. “Bind them. You know, for support purposes. After that, I’m going to pray to Hecate for a bit.”
“Who’s that?”
“Mother of Underworld. Worshiped all over the world.”
Jackie shook her head, then turned to stare out the side window. There wasn’t a lot to see, just a parking lot. “At the very least, it strikes me as rude in someone else’s church.”
Yana laughed. “Oh, there is no someone else, it’s all the same thing. Would you feel better if I summoned archangels?”
“It would at least be in the right wheelhouse.”
“I’ll see what I can do after I pray to Hecate.”
The vampire known as Misha opened his eyes. At the moment, they were orbs of deepest, endless black, like the compound eyes of an insect. He smiled with razor sharp teeth and rose from his armchair.
Striding out onto the catwalk, above the main room of the old factory, he looked down into his den of werewolves.
“Tully!” he barked. “Karl! Take your packs, and prepare a raid for tomorrow morning!”
Chapter 25
The Daylight Raid
January 6th
Jackie woke as sunlight poured in through the church windows. She tried moving from the pew but had to take it slowly. Her back hurt from laying down on the hard wood all night. She would have considered another option, but the marble floor was worse. Between the two, she preferred being off the floor.
Jackie managed to get her legs over the side of the pew and sat up. She breathed a sigh of relief that she got that far. Stretching from side to side, she then leaned forward to stretch out her lower back. When she finally felt limber, she straightened up and rolled her shoulders.
Damn, I need a cigarette.
Jackie walked over to the side window, where she had taken up her position last night. She’d rather have all of her butts in one place, just to make things easier for when she went out to police them later.
Jackie opened and braced the window. She breathed in the nice fresh air of the morning, relatively cool. She was from San Francisco—a New York winter felt like a mild spring to her.
Jackie leaned up against the windowsill, tapped out a cigarette, then used a lighter. She took a nice, slow drag, and leaned over to blow out the smoke. She slid the lighter away, and settled in for more boring watch duty.
A furry arm shot through the window, and a great claw clamped down on Jackie’s shoulder. It ripped her through the open window and hurled her to the ground. A ravenous, howling wolf leaped on her.
Yana awoke to Jackie’s blood-curdling screams of pain and terror.
Marco Catalano opened his eyes and looked into the lovely, sleeping face of Amanda. She looked so adorable, cuddled up against the crook of his arm. It was the second morning in a row he had woken up with her against him. He could get used to it.
Granted, I have to become a night person. She can only stay awake for so long.
The window crashed in, flooding the room with light.
Amanda leaped off the bed, and dove under the window, staying as much in the shadow as possible. Something had crashed through the window and landed in the corner. It looked like a big ball of black fur …
Until, of course, it unfurled itself into a seven-foot werewolf.
Marco rolled off the bed, onto his feet, and wished he had any silver on him. His toys had been taken the other night by the Vatican Ninjas, before the police showed up and confiscated things like his Desert Eagle, or inquired too closely about how many sharpened stakes he had in the house.
He would have to settle for whatever he had.
Marco reached down, grabbed the bed frame, and pulled up. The mattress flipped over and covered Amanda, protecting her from the sunlight. Using both hands, he swung the metal frame like a club.
With a single swipe, the werewolf sliced the bed frame to pieces, leaving Marco with a single bar of metal, cut off at the end.
Marco narrowed his eyes and glared at the intruder. The creature didn’t have much time. Merle’s SpecOps team, lead by George, would be ready to come down on this sucker. And the Vatican Ninjas were also probably in the neighborhood by now. These guys were toast.
Then another werewolf crashed through the window and slammed right into him.
Rory had been just inside the door of the monastery since before the sun came up. He was content to hide within the door, protected from the sunlight. The sun was a mite troublesome since he was never that powerful—for good or ill. He could take the average human, but he wasn’t certain he could tak
e Marco. He wasn’t going anywhere near the sun if he didn’t have to.
He only had a few seconds, but he smelled the wolves coming. Being a former IRA gunman, he knew enough to hold his position regardless. Everyone had their area of responsibility, and by God, was he going to hold his.
He drew his gun and heard everything go to Hell a second later. He heard Jackie’s screams behind him, and he heard the window crash in Marco’s room. He was about to turn and defend his flank,—but several wolves burst through the treeline in front of him.
Rory grinned and proceeded to blast away. The gun fired and flared as fast as he could pull the trigger—since he was a vampire, it was as fast as a machine gun.
He laughed aloud as he sprayed them down with hollow-points stuffed with silver balls. He began to sing, “Oh come out ye Black and Tans! Come out and fight me like a man! Show your wife how you won medals down in Fla-a-anders! Tell her how the IRA, made ye run like Hell away, from the green and lovely lanes of Killeshandra!”
Werewolves were everywhere. They were starting to annoy the Hell out of George Berkeley.
He had been on of the perches atop the convent across the street when he caught the first whiff. Numbers were hard to distinguish at this distance. It came from down the hill. He double-clicked his communication unit, alerting his people. He did it once more to identify the enemy type—though he probably didn’t need to. It was already daylight. It was unlikely that run-of-the-mill humans would be a problem.
George leaped from his perch into a roll, bounded to his feet, running for the church. If Marco was the bait, then George was one of the jaws about to clamp shut.