Blood Rogue, #1

by Linda J. Parisi

  “The only thing keeping you alive.”

  “Comforting.”

  He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Mick, if you want to die on your own terms, then let her go. No collateral damage.”

  “Collateral damage? Really?”

  Chaz watched Stacy stiffen, arms steady as she took aim. Her fingers tightened around the butt of her gun, and she inhaled. In the time it took her to release that breath, Chaz turned, sprinting over to the corner of the bar, pulled a vent pipe off the building and then charged, using the pipe like a baseball bat, swinging so hard he thought the muscles in his neck would break from the strain.

  Mick staggered and fell, screaming in pain.

  “Stacy. Run!”

  “Not on your life,” she cried, holding her ground.

  Mick shook his head and lifted into a crouch. A wave of foul decay filled his nostrils, dank, and putrid. Stacy coughed and choked just as affected.

  “Get out of here now!”

  “No!”

  “You don’t understand,” Chaz said. “A terrible craving is tearing at his insides. Mick can hear your heart race, feel your blood pump. You’re the one he wants. Not me.”

  “Feel my blood pump?”

  Mick balanced on all fours ready to spring. His lips drew back in a feral snarl. Long sharp incisors hung over his bottom lip, unable to retract anymore. He stalked towards her.

  “What the hell?”

  Time to get her out of here. Only there was a huge problem. Mick stood between her and her car. She could run into the bar, but that would only put the two humans inside in danger. “Run! Run into the complex.”

  Suddenly, Mick stopped moving. Dank, filthy tendrils of hair swung as he whipped his head around. The click of the handle sounded at the same time. A door opened and closed with a bang.

  “Stacy. Shoot. Shoot now!”

  She hesitated. Mick twisted, first towards the sound, and then towards her. And then it hit him—the sound of another human heart. Still beating normally as the person it belonged to had no idea the danger they were in.

  “For the love of God, Stacy. Fire!”

  She pulled the trigger, and her revolver exploded. Three shots in rapid succession, yet Mick still half-stood there even though his left shoulder flew backward with the force of her bullets. All three. Straight into its heart. If he had one left.

  Just as a tiger can lie placid on the grass so it can leap and kill its prey in mere seconds, so could Mick. Or whatever Mick had become. He gathered and bunched and vaulted for Stacy. So did Chaz, landing on his back. Rooted to the spot, he realized Stacy could only stare as Chaz pulled back Mick’s head, yanked open his mouth, and tried to pour the extract inside.

  Mick wasn’t having any of that and threw Chaz off him with a mighty swipe of his arm. The guard, hearing the commotion, came charging into the parking lot. Chaz scrambled to his feet. “Get back!” he yelled to the guard. “Get away from here! Run!”

  Mick couldn’t make up his mind. Two human hearts thundered. Chaz ran to protect Stacy as the guard tried to scramble away. Stacy raised her revolver again. Before she could get off another shot, Mick lunged, tackled the guard, grabbed his collar, and tried to run. Chaz bolted after Mick and jumped on his back. He wrapped his arm around Mick’s neck to pour more extract, but Mick swiped his arm away. Mick threw him off his back, dropped the man, and sprinted away.

  Chaz ran back to the guard and knelt down. Blood began pouring out of a wound in the guard’s neck. How fitting that Mick would use the last of his humanity to put him between a rock and a hard place. For he was going to have to try to save the guard while Stacy watched.

  And he was going to have to try not to drain the man dry.

  Chaz lapped at the wound, hoping he could seal it. But it was pretty deep and very close to the man’s carotid artery. Funny that even at a time like this, he could notice the subtle difference in taste. Stacy’s blood was brighter, cleaner. This man’s was deeper, earthier. He couldn’t imagine what she must be thinking at the moment, all he could hear were words and phrases jumbled together. Even as he tried to get the wound to close, he drank, hating himself for his weakness.

  There was a chance this man might die. Sometimes, in order to save a life, a Paladin had to take a life. That was his duty. Even though he felt remorse, his feelings didn’t matter. Mick was so far gone rogue, he could kill hundreds before Chaz was able to stop him.

  He heard Stacy approach with hesitant steps. He didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to see the horror in her gaze, the fear, the realization that he was a monster and not a man. He did anyway and found he was right, except there was still that underlying curiosity in her gaze that gave him hope, hope that she might believe he was still a man.

  She fell to her knees beside the guard. Her thoughts raged through his skull with the precision of fine cut steel. She couldn’t comprehend what just happened and couldn’t equate that to what he was. She wanted to help the man lying on the ground, but more than that, she wanted to get him far away from the guard.

  Chaz didn’t have time for human fear. He had a rogue to follow. He rose and scanned the parking lot. The trail wasn’t hard to find. Drops of blood like the breadcrumbs in a fairy tale dotted the pavement. He became a bloodhound, half walking, half- running as he followed. And then he realized, Mick had circled back. He was going after Stacy.

  In the time it took for him to reach the bar parking lot, he found them both. Stacy didn’t have time to even draw a breath as she turned. Mick lifted her up off her knees by the neck to bring her flesh to his mouth. Chaz didn’t think. He leaped and pulled out his knife, slashing at the hand that held her. She fell to the pavement coughing and gasping for air, the sounds music to his ears. She was still alive, for a grip like that could’ve snapped her neck in two.

  Mick howled in agony. Chaz crouched as they circled one another. He feinted with one hand and threw the knife into the other and lunged. Mick knew the trick. He sidestepped and swiped at Chaz, long talons tearing at the flesh of his stomach.

  Chaz groaned with the pain but never let his focus wander. His left arm now cradled his belly, but his right still held the knife. Mick lifted his own wrist to his mouth and sucked and sucked then lapped at the wound.

  How did he know to do that? Could there still be some of Mick inside? Somewhere? “Charlessss,”

  “Let me make it quick. One stroke of the blade, and you can be at peace. Think, man, think. You don’t want to hurt people. You spent your life protecting them.”

  Chaz lunged again. He missed Mick’s heart but caught him in the shoulder, feeling flesh and muscle tear as he yanked the knife free.

  Mick screamed this time. Chaz choked on the decay. But that split second of lost focus gave Mick the chance to charge Stacy. Chaz didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. He threw himself between them just as Stacy fired her weapon. He felt the bullet pierce his shoulder first, before the burning tear of his flesh, then the crunch of landing on the ground. Air whooshed from his lungs, his head spun, his midsection curled in upon itself for protection.

  Mick faltered. Whatever humanity was left inside, the vampire stopped him from finishing Chaz off. Mick froze. Perhaps it was the shock of trying to kill Chaz; perhaps it was the last of the principles he held so dear. No matter the reason, Mick turned and ran off, disappearing—once again—into the darkness.

  Heavens above, the pain.

  She ran over and fell to her knees beside him. How wonderful the human spirit. “Oh, no. Oh, no. I just shot you.” Her hands fluttered over his body. “Oh God, I’m sorry. You got in the way. Why did you do that? You shouldn’t have gotten in the way. I had him. Dead to rights. I wouldn’t have let him hurt you.”

  Amazing. Even now, she called Mick a him instead of an it.

  A wave of searing hot agony as painful as his own misery spread from his side to his middle then rolled back again. He moaned. “Listen to me. Please.”

  She stilled. “Yes. Yes. What?”<
br />
  “Too late.”

  “Pat! Mike! Over here!”

  She called them Pat and Mike. They came running out of the bar. “Stacy. We heard something like a—holy shit. It was gunshots.”

  “He’s hurt. Badly. Got in the way. Call an ambulance. NOW!”

  “NO!”

  She whipped her head around and stared at him. “But I shot you…the security guard.”

  A terrible sadness filled him. With his injuries, he couldn’t possibly move fast enough so that she wouldn’t have a ringside seat to watch what he was about to do. He rose to his knees, gulping air, and used her shoulder like a brace to stand. He targeted the older man first as he wouldn’t be as strong.

  He grabbed the man’s arm and pulled his wrist to his mouth. Humans have an incredible instinct for survival that he’d always marveled at. The older man brought his free fist down to punch Chaz’s back and pull away. Using his own free hand, Chaz stopped the man and held him still.

  Blood, warm and sweet, filled his body. The man weakened as he sucked and swallowed. In the remaining few seconds before the younger man dove at them, Chaz gave the older man the Lethe. He tore away but not before Stacy got a good look at what he truly was.

  He really hated that look on her face.

  With fresh blood in his system, energy zipped through his body. That energy enabled him to pin the younger man up against the wall of the bar. A wave of pure need buckled his knees as he sank his incisors into the man’s neck.

  Blood. Always the blood. Every time he fed, he faced the question of whether to kill or not to kill, and he always answered the same. Chaz reared back. He repeated his vow as he had thousands and thousands of times before.

  I will not kill again.

  He gave the younger man the drug, lapped at his wounds to seal them, and stepped back.

  Turning, he found that Stacy had already pulled out her cell phone. He plucked the phone out of her hand and put it in his pocket. Her mouth opened in surprise. So many thoughts were racing through her mind; it was like the flow of a swift-moving stream. In a way, he was glad. He didn’t want to have to explain anything at the moment.

  Brushing past her, he went back to the young man and lifted him in his arms. The best place to leave both of them now was the bar.

  Pain laced through his shoulder. A gunshot was harder to heal than other wounds, even with the fresh blood zinging through his system. He put the younger one on top of the bar and stepped out into the parking lot again. Her feet were braced. Her gun pointed right at his heart.

  And she stood over the body of the elder gentleman ready to protect until her dying breath.

  “Who are you?”

  “Charles Tower.” He started to laugh at the absurdity of his next action. He bowed as he would have during his day. “At your service.”

  “What are you?”

  Now that was harder to answer. What did they call them these days? “Your worst nightmare.”

  “I got that already. What did you do to Mike?” Her chin lifted, so he realized that would be the young man on the bar.

  “He’s on the bar. When he awakens, he’ll be absolutely fine.”

  She looked down at the man lying at her feet. “And Pat?”

  “The same.”

  But she didn’t lose focus. How…police-like of her. She kept the gun trained on him every time he moved. “What did you just do to them?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  His question seemed to catch her by surprise. The thoughts and words inside her that kept cascading down that streambed began to slow. She hesitated, wiping her chin against her shoulder. He felt her pain, which surprised him. She winced, and he moved closer, but she shook her head. “Uh-uh. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  Then her mind kicked into gear. “You need to give me my cell back so I can call an ambulance for that man over there.” She pointed to the guard.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.” Chaz listened carefully. He barely registered a heartbeat.

  “Do it now!” She started circling him, trying to get closer to the guard.

  “You don’t understand. I can’t.” This was one night he was going to regret for a millennium.

  “Or won’t?”

  “Both.” The heartbeat grew fainter. “Look. Keeping me talking isn’t going to help the situation. Nor is calling an ambulance. They won’t be in time. He’s dying, I’m afraid. He must be bleeding internally.”

  “I’m only going to ask one more time. Then I’m going to shoot you for real.”

  The guard’s heart stopped beating. Chaz stepped back and allowed her access. She ran to the guard and knelt, feeling for a pulse for quite some time before she sat back on her heels in defeat.

  “I’m sorry,” Chaz said.

  “You’re sorry? I just put three bullets into the heart of a nightmare, an innocent man is dead, you wouldn’t let me help him, and you’re sorry?”

  “I don’t normally regret my actions, but it seems I involved you in something you should never have been involved in. For that, I am truly sorry.”

  She rose. “An apology isn’t going to bring that man back to life.”

  “An apology isn’t going to bring Mick back either,” he exploded. “But I was able to save your life. And theirs. Barely.”

  “Not the security guard.”

  Chaz sighed. “Collateral damage.”

  She huffed. “Collateral damage?” she asked. “How cold of you.” She swallowed. “One last time. Give me my cell phone.”

  “You’re going to call the police. I can’t allow that to happen.”

  Chaz shook his head. He watched her finger close around the trigger. Not wanting to get shot again, he snatched the gun out of her grip. He threw the offending weapon down towards the complex where it skittered against the macadam, finally sliding to a halt hundreds of yards away.

  Relentless. Dangerous. Beautiful. Chaz hauled her up against his body. He had no other way to stop her without doing possible damage. So he pulled back her head, exposed her neck, sank his incisors into her sweet flesh, and drank until she passed out. He gave her the Lethe, but this time, he had no idea if it would take or not. He’d never done it twice in one night.

  Laying her gently on the ground, Chaz pulled out his cell and hit speed dial. “Pitch?”

  “Did you find him?”

  “I’m afraid so. And you’re not going to like it.”

  Chapter Three

  Stacy

  Stacy needed a drink. No, make that a bar filled with drinks. She looked around. Well, at the very least, she was exactly where she needed to be. She was in O’Reilly’s, sitting in a corner, propped up by the back of a booth. Strange. She remembered driving here. She remembered a bag of coffee and wondering where she’d gotten it from. But it smelled really good when she’d opened the flap so she figured she’d picked it up and forgotten she did.

  She looked down to find the remnants of a meal she didn’t recall eating. God, what the hell did Pat give her? Supercharged cabernet? One minute, her head seemed straight, the next, it seemed to float somewhere between Venus and Mars.

  She tried to sit up, and the entire room spun. Damn. Drunk? Maybe she didn’t need those drinks after all. Was that possible? Oh hell. She could swear she only had half a glass. She lifted up real slow and looked around. No Pat. No Mike.

  “Hey, Pat? What the hell? Did you spike my drink?”

  No answer. That was strange. Maybe they were in the back or downstairs and couldn’t hear her. “Yo! Pat! Mike! Where are you?”

  Concern filled her but from a place very far away. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion. She tried to shake the murkiness from her head, but that turned out to be a bad move. Her stomach rolled over.

  Okay, so maybe it was time to go easy and work her way over to the doorway. Of course, walking turned out to be harder than she thought, but she was finally able to get her wobbly sea-legs under her and wove her way toward the back r
oom and downstairs.

  “Hey, Mike? Pat? Somebody?”

  Still no answer. And she didn’t see anyone. So she made her way to the front door. And that was when she heard voices coming from the parking lot.

  “Took you long enough to get here.”

  “I came as fast as I could. I didn’t want to deal with a state trooper or a cop.”

  “I know.”

  Voice number one let out a huge sigh. “It was Mick. He’s gone rogue.”

  “Rogue, as in dying rogue?”

  “’Fraid so. Can’t you smell it?”

  Voice number two exhaled hard. “Yeah, I can smell it.” Was that pain in voice number two? “I can’t…no, I don’t want to believe it’s true. He wasn’t old enough.”

  “It is, Pitch. And you’re right. So we’re going to have some digging to do. But right now, we’ve got a lot to cover up. There’s a security guard over there that’s dead.”

  “Oh great,” voice number two muttered.

  “And three humans, one’s inside the bar, that I had to drug.”

  Drug?

  “Was one of them a woman?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “I found this over there.” Dead silence. Then three words filled with horror. “Oh. God. No.”

  “He has her scent, Chaz.” Chaz? Why was that name familiar to her? “He’ll come after her, won’t he?”

  “His last human. Yes, he won’t rest until he gets her.”

  Last human? What the hell was this, some kind of horror movie?

  “Chaz, it’s Mick. Do you really think after all that he’s done to protect humans, he’ll try to kill her?”

  “Yes.” Voice number one sounded determined. “But I’ll stop him first.”

  Voice number two let out an agonizing wail, and a shiver coasted down her back.

  “Pitch, listen to me. You have to screw your head back on. You can grieve tomorrow. Right now, we have until dawn to clean this mess up. I need your help.” A crash-thud rocked the entire building. “Including fixing the hole you just put in the wall.”