Don't Cross This Line

by Michael Anderle

  Because Robert told him the future was bleak, and he has an ace-in-the-hole.

  VISIT CRAIG ON HIS AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:

  https://www.amazon.com/Craig-Martelle/e/B01AQVF3ZY/

  TS (Scott) Paul - Etheric Empire Academy Series

  Scott is the author of the bestselling science fiction YA Athena Lee Chronicles and his new best selling Urban Fantasy Federal Witch series.

  Scott is well known to my fans as he is the #1 Also-bought almost every day I look (meaning he is the most purchased author of the top 16 authors my fans read).

  When I was searching for a collaborator to do a YA series, I figured I’d ask Scott because it was a logical choice, but with his success and busy writing schedule, I hadn’t really expected him to say ‘yes’.

  I’m super happy that he signed up!

  The Etheric Empire Academy series (first book release Dec 2016) will follow those youth we know from the stories (Cheryl Lynn’s daughter and son and others) as a uniquely Bethany Anne academy is created to help them learn not only Reading, Writing and Arithmetic… But Etheric Anti-Gravity engineering, small squad tactics and alien relations 101.

  Unfortunately, just like their parents are single minded and willing to break a few rules, the children don’t fall far from that tree.

  VISIT SCOTT ON HIS AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:

  https://www.amazon.com/T-S-Paul/e/B01C7IPHYQ

  JUSTIN SLOAN - Reclaiming Honor Series

  Justin is the author behind such titles as Falls of Redemption Trilogy, Modern Necromancy Series (with Michael La Ron), Bringer of Light Trilogy (Allie Strom) and additional work on the Game of Thrones game as well as tv and movie scripts (his latest work with Sean Platt and others was picked up recently to be made into a movie.)

  The Reclaiming Honor (Justice is Calling out 12.15.2016) series paints the picture of the world Michael returns to one hundred and fifty years after Bethany Anne and the Etheric Empire have left to fight the Kurtherians.

  Valerie, a vampire changed by one of David’s children who was released from his cement prison by grave robbers, can’t follow her father anymore.

  She must follow the call in her heart and seeks the land of America to prepare to protect it from the effort to spread her father’s dominion.

  All while trying to figure out why some people are starting to trade in blackmarket Vampire blood in this new city-state.

  VISIT JUSTIN ON HIS AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:

  https://www.amazon.com/Justin-Sloan/e/B00OJPAM0K

  Justice Is Calling - A New Kurtherian Gambit Series

  Coming

  December 2016

  CHAPTER 1

  Old Angers, France (West of Paris)

  Valerie turned her head just enough to stop the rancid, oil-slicked water from flowing into her mouth. The street was filthy, even ignoring the blood and guts--not that those would disgust her. Well, not the blood anyway, her being a vampire and all.

  Something had tasted nasty in that water. Nasty enough for her to care to move her head, in spite of the piercing pain that doing so sent through her body. That's what happens when your brother breaks practically every bone in your body and leaves you on the rain-drenched street.

  Utter and unbelievable pain.

  In fact, she was ready for the sun to come up. Hoping it would hurry and get on with it, how much worse than what she was already feeling could the sun be? Death had never scared her. But pain? Even though she had always healed from it, she hated pain.

  And with this much pain, she was ready to die. All thanks to her brother, Donovan.

  She’d hoped he was gone, done with her, but she felt him next to her. She could smell his scent, even through the blood that had come streaming out of her broken nose.

  Donovan, that ass, kneeled down and moved her hair so that it wasn’t blocking her view of him.

  “See, Valerie, I can be nice when I want to.” He chuckled and cast a glance over his shoulder, where she imagined one of his goons stood but couldn’t see from this angle. Probably Jean-Pierre, his right-hand man, and the one that had delivered the sucker punch that set her up for her brother’s beat-down.

  He turned back to her, “I just never care to be nice,” he continued. He leaned a little closer, enough she could smell his breath, “That’s the difference between you and me."

  Those goons laughed, and she imagined ripping their pitiful, small brained heads from their gorilla-like bodies. They’d ambushed her as she walked down the raining street. Lost in her thoughts, she would’ve been able to take them any other time, but today something had changed. She lost focus... and direction.

  She’d seen the chaos, the death, the truth. Like a veil covering her eyes, the lies had been lifted. Now the reality of her situation didn't sit right with her. Especially not when she’d turned to see one of these goons taking the life of a child. A defenseless child, dead, for no reason. And now… she couldn’t do anything to stop them from continuing to be ruthless fucking pricks. It sucked.

  “You. Are. A. Dick,” she managed between pained breaths and choking on the sewer runoff that flowed into her mouth.

  She coughed up and half-vomited, pleased to see the scrunched up expression on Donovan’s face when some of that sewage-spit-meets-vomit hit his shoes.

  “Yes,” he said, casually standing up and then wiping his shoe off on her pants. “But this dick isn’t the one dying in the deserted street, waiting for the clouds to break apart and have the unholy sun come down and kill her, is he?” He sneered, then laughed when she tried to talk again and failed.

  She looked to the dark blue at the edge of the black sky, a hint of pink working its way up along with the rising son, and struggled to say, “Dad…”

  He barked a laugh and said, “Dad? Dad is going to appreciate the truth, if I ever get around to telling him. Why he dotes on your worthless, spineless ass, I don’t know. Now, he will be sad for maybe a day or two and then he can continue the effort to plan the eventual takeover of the New York City State by yours truly.” Donovan glared down at her, disdain heavy in his voice as he said, “Not by a little whore who disgraces all vampires with her inability to act.”

  He watched her for a minute, lying there, broken and bleeding then he smiled. “Darling sister, you look sick.” With a laugh, he kicked sewage water in her face, “You must stay hydrated.”

  Behind closed eyelids, the embers of her anger started to burn slowly; the sewage runoff like gas for the burning hatred in her gut.

  Now? Now dying wasn’t an option. His ass was hers if it was the last thing she managed in this life.

  Donovan and his goons walked off, laughing as she worked to figure out how she could beat the sun from stopping her in her vengeance…No, not vengeance.

  Justice.

  She tried to move her hand, but all she could manage was whimpering in pain. A tear, laced with blood, joined the water beneath her face.

  ***

  Sandra ran through the corpses of the slaughtered, her heart hardened to yet another conquered village. She had thought she'd enjoy witnessing one more conquest in the Blessed's gradual move to the coast. During training, she had listened with fascination of the stories, always amazed by their courage. They had come this far from Old Paris and had managed to take down or absorb into the Duke’s kingdom every group they found in the barren and forsaken lands.

  The dying lands.

  None of that mattered right now, because if Sandra didn’t find her Valerie, her Mistress, it would be her head.

  No, that wasn’t what Valerie had said…It would be her heart. On a platter, served cold for Valerie’s other servants to consume while she watched.

  Part of that threat terrified Sandra, but part of it made her laugh. Sure, she’d seen the darker side of her Mistress. But they’d also spent evenings together staring out over the wasteland that had once been known as Paris... the toppled Eiffel Tower and lines of abandoned cars, all the while wondering what the days had been like before the collapse of
civilization.

  They’d talked, they’d laughed, and they’d touched. Her Mistress’s hand had found hers, and then her lips, gentle, yet firm. A kiss, given in friendship and maybe something more?

  It had never happened again, and Sandra had been sworn to secrecy. But…it was enough to make her doubt Valerie would ever cause her any real harm.

  So yes, fear drove her in this search, but more than that. It was loyalty, and the deepest love for a friend one could have, when said friend was a vampire princess and one’s supposedly ruthless Mistress.

  The feeding contributed to the loyalty, she couldn’t ignore that, of course. The taste of Valerie’s blood when she offered it wasn’t what Sandra would call sweet, but it flowed through her, making her feel younger, healthier, and in complete bliss.

  The only problem was that it was addictive as hell.

  She reached the top of the pile of rubble and, in the distance, saw the rays of sun peeking out over the trees. The other Blessed, as the father of them all titled his Clan, were pulling back to the cover of darkness. The father, Le Duc Eckhart was simply referred to as the Duke, his French title from the old days.

  That had been before he’d gone into sleep mode and slept right through the end of days, or the “Second Falling of Rome,” as he called it. Now, he orchestrated these attacks and insisted on war camps set up at a retreat point, guarded by loyal Weres during the day. A raid would occur, then Eckhart’s children and their children would retreat during the light of day while his other troops cleaned up and established another outpost in his name.

  Even the Duke couldn’t survive in sunlight, which meant Valerie definitely could not. Being a non-modified human meant Sandra could, but it didn’t matter. She’d either die here searching for her Mistress, or be torn to pieces when she returned without her.

  “Valerie,” she called out in a hoarse whisper, her voice overused from calling out for her master. One minute Valerie had been at the front lines, charging in to attack with Donovan, and the next she'd wandered off, aimlessly.

  Shadows were beginning to creep along the roads, and one moved. At first, Sandra refused to get her hopes up, figuring it was simply a forgotten victim, but then she saw the eyes—red, glimmering, searching.

  In the flash that it took her legs to carry her to her Mistress, Sandra was kneeling beside Valerie. She gasped in shock at the sight of her master. In the past, Valerie had returned home with gunshots, Werewolf bites, and worse…but nothing like this. The beating she must have taken to be in this state was unheard of.

  Then it hit her. No human could have done this to her Mistress.

  “Who betrayed you?” Sandra asked, hands shaking in anger. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find you earlier, I searched, but…where’d you go?”

  Valerie almost smiled, but the tears of blood running down her cheeks gave her away. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

  “We have to get you out of the sun,” Sandra said, and then bent down to help her up.

  But the motion sent a spasm through Valerie and she screamed in pain.

  Again Sandra glanced at the horizon. The thick, billowing clouds were orange now with highlights of purple, and the tip of the sun was barely visible.

  “Drink, Mistress,” she said, holding out her wrist for Valerie. “It’s the only way.”

  ***

  Valerie stared up at this lowly human. Her servant, yet so much more. There was no way around it, if she hoped to survive long enough to escape the sunlight and one day truly bring justice about, this was the way.

  Every bone in her body snapped and cracked as she tried to move for the bite, but the pain caused her to collapse in agony.

  “Please,” she whispered, the words barely escaping her mouth. This was humiliation galore. Valerie the vampire princess stooping to such lows.

  But to not do so meant Donovan won, and that she could not allow.

  “Please,” she said again, and this time Sandra heard, judging by the look of shock in her eyes.

  Without hesitation, Sandra pressed her wrist to Valerie’s mouth, flinching only slightly when the fangs pierced her skin.

  Warm blood flowed forth and it tasted of life—sweet, aromatic, and soothing. At first, Valerie felt she would close her eyes and just sleep forever, but then a surge of energy and power came over her. She knew that nothing could ever stand in her way.

  Skin pulled itself back together and she felt her bones mending themselves. She licked her lips and drank more, closing her eyes in ecstasy and then focusing on the warmth of the blood as it filled her and nursed her back to life.

  A soft moan. She looked up to see how pale Sandra had become in a matter of seconds, and what she hadn’t seen at first hit her—sunlight forming a halo around her servant’s head. The sunrise had found them.

  With one last, sensual lick, Valerie pulled herself back from Sandra’s wrist and told her, “I am forever in your debt.”

  Sandra collapsed beside her, falling into the shadows and out of the sun’s path.

  Valerie tested her strength and was glad to see it returning. The pain was there, but bearable as she continued to feel bones mending, muscles re-attaching. She put an arm around her servant, and then, spotting a building still mostly intact, drug herself and Sandra through shadows until they were safe inside.

  “The others,” Sandra managed as they leaned against the inside wall, recuperating. “Your father won’t like that we’re not with them.”

  Valerie's eyes flashed red, “My father can kiss my vampire ass, as long as he doesn’t suck any blood from it.”

  Sandra turned with a jolt. Nobody talked of the Duke that way.

  Valerie painfully held up a hand to stop whatever Sandra might say, finality in her voice. “We’re not going back. Ever.”

  “Then, we’re no better than Forsaken,” Sandra said. “On the run, hunted. I—”

  “You’ll do as you're told,” Valerie said, then glanced at the younger woman’s wrist and cringed, thinking of her honor. “That is, if you’re willing. I cannot force you to make this journey with me.”

  Sandra’s eyes went wide at this offer, but then considered the options her heart provided and nodded.

  She wasn’t going anywhere.

  “What is the plan, Mistress?”

  “We get to America before Donovan and his people, set up a base of defense, and see to it that my brother’s journey across the ocean will be his last.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Somewhere Across the Atlantic

  Diego snuck through the large, open cargo bay of the anti-grav blimp, his nose tingling. He hadn’t been sure what upset his senses when the ship first set off. The scent of goods, en route to supply the few remaining city-states in North America, had been strong enough to cancel out his Were senses.

  But now that they were floating out over the open seas, he was sure of it. The smell of fish, salt, and vampire.

  The streets of Spain had taught him how to stay out of trouble. Groups of Weres claimed different territories of Old Madrid, with the wolves on one side, a splinter group of the Sacred Clan—Were cats—in another. But he was a runt, which meant none had accepted him. Small when transformed and not much taller than five-six as a man, he’d been laughed out of dens when he tried to pitch himself to the various packs.

  No Alpha wanted him as a liability.

  He had tried to tell them that he had his own unique skills. Speed. A brain that worked twice as fast as most others, and the ability to sneak.

  “So go join the Sacred Clan, pup,” one of the henchmen had told him, right before Diego put a blade in the Were’s throat.

  So yeah, sticking around after that discussion hadn’t been an option. Asia had too many risks, with the legends of Yuko and Akio, vampires nobody wanted to mess with. Staying in Europe meant the packs would be after him if he tried to hide out in Spain or Portugal, and anywhere else risked more Vampires. Forsaken or not, he’d heard what they did to stray dogs and cats, and didn�
�t want to find out if those rumors were true for himself.

  But right now, his dreams of making it West looked like a long shot. For all he knew, this vampire was here to kill him, paid off by the Were who he’d nearly killed—and would have, if the blade had been silver. Even if the vampire didn’t know anything about him, it was likely to throw him overboard simply to avoid complications.

  Diego paused by one of several round, thick glass windows, and watched the setting sun.

  If the vampire had traveled during the day, that meant… No, that couldn’t have happened. Only the old vampires of legend, from the days before the fall of the world, could walk in the sun. Even that could be fiction as much as fact. Diego, for his part, believed it was simply the stories vampires told to scare other members of the UnknownWorld.

  “Where are you?” he hissed, stepping away from the window and trying to make sense of it. But only one conclusion came to mind. The vampire had help. Whether that meant in the form of humans or something else, he couldn’t be sure.

  He’d have to proceed with caution.

  And then a thought struck him—if they were down here in the shadows, the sunlight wouldn’t matter. He’d forgotten the part in the stories that said they didn’t actually need to sleep in the day, that little detail had been made up from fiction long ago lost.

  Mierda, he thought, as a breath touched his neck. He froze, waiting for the fangs, but none came.