Wake Me When the Sun Goes Down (Forged Bloodlines #1)

by Lisa Olsen

  The Order always came first. He’d pledged his life too many years ago to count. For endless nights he’d upheld the laws, meting out justice as he saw fit. Bishop was more successful at it than most, because while he didn’t have a love of violence, he recognized when it needed to be used without anger. He understood just how much pressure to apply. So while his first instinct was to try and protect Anja, his sense of duty led him to do the right thing. She had to be taken into custody. Let one go and you set a dangerous precedent. Wasn’t that how he’d been trained? And if it became necessary to close those pretty, blue eyes forever? He would deal with it when the time came.

  Speaking of time, he’d been more than generous in allowing her time to change into dry clothing. It wasn’t as if she could catch a chill now, and where she was going there wasn’t any need for fancy preparations.

  Bishop set down her bag, approaching the bedroom door with a brief knock. “Miss Evans? I don’t mean to be rude, but do you think you could hurry it up?” Nothing but silence greeted his ears, and he frowned as he rapped again. “Miss Evans?”

  Instead of her meek little voice asking for more time as he half expected, his ears picked up an “oof” from much too far away. Privacy be damned, Bishop shouldered her door open, taking in the deserted room and going immediately to the open window. Damn it… if Mason heard about this he’d never hear the end of it.

  Dropping to the street below, he watched as she loped off like a gazelle, her newly energized limbs propelling her faster than she had any right to move. She would have been a blur to human eyes, but Bishop tracked her easily, a little stunned at her speed and grace. Most newborns didn’t master such speed for quite some time. He’d spoken too soon, Anja clearly hadn’t learned control as she took a corner too broadly, careening into the side of a building hard enough to send a cloud of dust up at the crumbling mortar.

  “That’s got to hurt,” Bishop winced in sympathy before he took off after her, anticipating an easy chase.

  He was wrong.

  There was nothing easy about the chase she led him on. The girl obviously knew the city well and used it to her advantage. Despite his superior strength and speed, Bishop had a hard time keeping her in his sights. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have guessed her to be a much older vampire, certainly not a noob on her first run. But it wasn’t his first rodeo either. Knowing how to anticipate his quarry’s moves was a skill he’d learned well, and after following her for a while, he figured out how best to trap her.

  Cutting sharply to the left, he abandoned the chase, diverting to the path he predicted she would take. Sure enough, a few seconds later, Anja turned into the alley and Bishop pounced, his momentum sending them both crashing to the ground. Anja struggled, arms and legs flailing until he pinned her with his body to keep her still. Even with his hands firmly securing her wrists, she continued to resist, her eyes scrunched tightly shut. She even managed to break one arm free, until Bishop slammed it back down against the pavement a little harder than he’d intended, and her expressive, blue eyes opened, a soft cry of pain issuing from the back of her throat.

  All at once they both stilled, her body struggling to catch breath it didn’t need, out of habit. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered, and he felt like the worst bully for causing her pain.

  “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His eyes swept over her face, relieved when the sting of pain faded from her features, the damage fleeting. The fact that it bothered him in the first place was far more troublesome.

  Anja blinked, eyes shiny with unshed tears. “Please… let me go. Nobody has to know about me, do they?”

  “That’s not the point. This isn’t a minor infraction, you and your Sire need to face the consequences of your actions.”

  “But that’s just it, I didn’t do anything! I didn’t choose this life, or afterlife, or whatever you want to call it. If you want to punish someone, punish the guy who did this to me.”

  “I will, I just have to find him.”

  “So let’s find him then, I’ll help you,” she nodded earnestly, as if he needed it.

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “Then how will you do it?”

  Her lack of faith was irritating, but Bishop reminded himself that she didn’t know much about him or the Order. “I’ll start with where you were found, the police should be done with their investigation by now. It’s time to bring my team in.”

  “You know where I was found?” she blinked.

  “Give me some credit. I’ve been doing this for a long time.”

  “How long?”

  “Long enough to recognize when someone is stalling me. Anja, I have to take you in.” It surprised the hell out of him to find he wished it could be otherwise. Conscious of the fact that she felt soft beneath him and it had been far too long since he’d had a woman as appealing in his arms, he shifted uncomfortably. That just made it worse. Still, he made no move to get up yet, unable to leave the sweet torment.

  “Bishop, please, don’t make me pay for something he did. Let me help you find him, and if he has broken your laws… then I’ll pay the consequences.”

  How many times had another pair of blue eyes looked up at him in that same way? And how many times had he found himself lost to their power, as he was now…

  Enough distraction. Bishop pulled them both to their feet, keeping careful hold of one of her wrists. “I will take you with me to the crime scene to see what we can find, that’s it. If we hit a dead end, I’m taking you in, deal?”

  “Deal,” she nodded instantly, and he couldn’t believe he was even considering this.

  “And no more trying to escape. You saw how easy it was for me to catch you.” Though it was much harder than it should have been.

  “I understand, I promise I’ll be good.” She brightened immediately, her smile radiant.

  “I’d better not regret this.” Bishop backed Anja up against the wall, looming close to make his point, dwarfing her petite frame. “Up until now I’ve been fairly considerate of your unusual situation, but you wouldn’t want to make me angry,” he cautioned, wanting to make sure she absolutely understood that the decision to alter his plans didn’t mean he was weak.

  Her eyes widened, but he didn’t think she was afraid of him. A slim hand pressed against his chest defensively, and he was surprised to find it offered considerably more resistance than he would have thought. She was a strong little thing, especially against someone as old as he was.

  “I won’t. Thank you, Bishop.”

  With a nod he eased back, watching her warily as they walked back to his black SUV parked up the block from her apartment.

  * * *

  The house where she’d been found had long been abandoned. Birds, raccoons and worse made their homes in the structure, and it smelled of mildew and soot. More than half of the house was in disrepair, including the kitchen which had been gutted by fire. The bedrooms at the rear of the house were still intact, though empty. Bishop paused just inside the front door, extending his senses. Other than a family of squirrels they were alone on the property.

  “How do we know we’re alone?” Anja whispered, laying a fearful hand on his arm that brought a faint smile to his lips.

  “Can’t you tell?” At her shake of the head, he placed both hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “Close your eyes, block out all distractions but the sound of my voice. Can you do that?” This time she nodded and he lowered his voice, watching her expressive face as she listened. “Listen with your whole body, in ever widening circles. Can you hear the drip of water from the rain gutter by the front door? Now set it aside and find the next layer of sound. Hear the scratch of the squirrels in the next room…”

  “I hear them,” she breathed, her eyes still closed. “There are two… no, three of them.”

  “Good. What else do you hear?” he prompted gently.

  “I hear the crickets outside.”

  “What else?”

/>   “I hear… wings… there are birds flying overhead. That way…” she pointed, her face expectant, craving his confirmation.

  This must be what it was like to have a fledgling… something he’d vowed never to experience. Overall it seemed like a pain in the ass, but some moments, it didn’t seem so bad. “Very good.” Bishop felt the reward of her smile and forced himself to remember they had a job to do. He wasn’t there to play blind man’s bluff. “See, we’re completely alone. Come on, let’s get moving.”

  Bishop led Anja through the house to the room he knew she’d been held in from the police report on file. A crudely stuffed mattress lay in the center of the room, one corner of it liberally stained with blood.

  “This isn’t what I expected at all,” Anja murmured, staring at the dark stain.

  “No? This isn’t jogging your memory I take it?” It had been a long shot anyway.

  “No, not at all. I just thought, with all the preparations he took with the costume and the jewelry… I don’t know, I thought we’d see something more elaborate than an old mattress on the floor.”

  “Take a closer look.” Bishop squatted down next to the makeshift bed. “The mattress isn’t old, the fabric and stitches are coarse, but new.” He reached out to touch the end of the mattress, releasing a waft of fragrant herbs. Fennel, thyme, and apples - sparking something from his memory.

  “What are these?” Anja knelt down beside him, fingers tracing over deep scratches embedded in the hardwood floor surrounding the mattress.

  “They’re runes, Norse writing.” Standing up again, he circled the bed, studying the old script with growing apprehension. Coupled with the garb she’d been found in, Bishop started to have serious concerns about who her Sire might be.

  It was crazy. If an Ellri roamed the streets of his city, Bishop was confident he would have known it. Sure, anyone could carve a bunch of runes, but the way he’d laid her out and the ring… Bishop couldn’t shake the feeling they were dealing with a very old and powerful vampire.

  “So you think there’s an ancient Viking after me?” Anja drew him out of his reverie, her mind starting down the same path, but without the information he had about what that meant. “Why would he want to turn me into a vampire if I’ve never even met him?”

  “I think I might know. Your lineage could very well factor into it. There’s a possibility you’re a descendent of his.”

  “Then my sister Hanna could just as easily have been chosen?”

  “If that’s his only criteria, then yes, she could have been a target. But likely there are other factors. Physically you’re… well, you’re very…” he gestured to her, unable to find the right words to describe her delicate beauty coupled with the intangible quality that drew him in. Carys had evoked the same feeling in him, making him want to protect her from the moment he’d first met her.

  “Very what?”

  Bishop cleared his throat. Since when did he have trouble talking to women? “Let’s just say with your coloring, you’re the ideal for someone of his tastes.”

  “Oh.” She sounded almost disappointed by his reply and he couldn’t help but add a simple compliment.

  “Besides which, beauty is often a tempting lure for our kind.”

  “You think I’m beautiful?” Anja gave him a crooked smile, as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe such a thing.

  There was no way he was going to walk into that one, he’d already let himself get far too invested in her circumstances. “We should, ah, keep looking for clues, anything to take back to my team.”

  Anja nodded, eyes returning to the evidence before them. “That’s my blood, isn’t it?”

  “Most likely. Only one way to find out for sure though.” Already familiar with the scent of her blood from the clothes she’d given him the night before, he leaned down very close to the mattress, methodically working his way across the sprawling stain, searching for signs of any other blood mingled with hers. Her Sire had to have given her some of his blood, there could have been some spilled in the process. But they didn’t end up lucky enough for that to happen.

  “Just your blood, A positive,” he reported, straightening.

  “How did you know that?”

  “Eh, it’s a knack I picked up over the years.” He gave a half shrug. “Most vampires can tell by taste, I’ve gotten very good at tracking.” The trouble was, the scene had been thoroughly scrubbed down by the human’s CSU, so there was precious little to discover. He was surprised they hadn’t brought the mattress in with them, but they probably took the samples they needed instead.

  “There’s nothing else then? Nothing to lead us to him?”

  Bishop didn’t miss the tremor that went through her limbs and he hated being the cause for it. But what else could he do? He couldn’t let her go, it went against everything he believed in. “Come on, let’s get going.” There was no sense in putting off the inevitable. Anja nodded, hanging her head in acceptance, and he was glad he wouldn’t have to chase her down again.

  “Where is it? This vampire jail you’re taking me to?” she asked after they were in the car.

  “It’s not a jail exactly, we don’t house criminals the way humans do. I’m taking you to the holding facilities at the local headquarters. We rarely keep anyone there longer than a day or two.”

  “There aren’t many vampire criminals?”

  Hardly. “We have very strict penalties.” He gave her a mirthless smile, leaving her to draw her own conclusions from that. Bishop turned onto 42nd Avenue. Within the space of a few minutes he’d take her in, process her and then wash his hands of the situation for a few days.

  Strict penalties… If her Sire showed up to claim her, he’d be called in to interrogate him. If no one claimed her… the laws were clear. No unlicensed breeding. No exceptions, unless you were one of the Ellri, which almost never happened anymore. The Ellri weren’t subject to laws of any kind, they came and went as they pleased. But none had been spotted in decades as far as he knew, and none in the new world.

  Strict penalties…

  Bishop banished all such thoughts from his mind as he guided the dark SUV through the deserted city streets. In fact, he pushed any thoughts aside, his body working on autopilot until he stopped the car in the rear parking lot of a hardware store.

  “This is where your headquarters is?” she said dubiously, head leaning against the window to peer up at the building.

  “No,” he answered shortly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. There was still time to turn the car around and head back to HQ, he hadn’t done anything illegal yet.

  “But I thought…”

  Bishop shoved the keys in his pocket with short, angry movements, mentally cursing himself in five languages. “Just come with me before I change my mind.”

  Chapter Seven

  I glanced nervously up at the sky that started to grow noticeably lighter as I stepped out of the car. Logically I knew I had an hour or more before it became a problem, but my skin started to feel itchy and crawly and I couldn’t get in there fast enough. Then again, Bishop had been out and about during daylight hours the day before with only a pair of sunglasses for protection. Maybe I was getting all itchy for no good reason? I had a zillion and one questions, but Bishop looked a little agitated. I decided to leave well enough alone for the moment, and trail along behind him as he led me to a private entrance at the rear of the building. For whatever reason, he had decided not to take me to jail, and that was good enough for me at the time.

  Following him up a narrow flight of stairs, I waited patiently as he unlocked the heavy metal door at the top, expecting to see a storage or office space. A place you kept people on ice until you were ready to turn them in, I imagined. Instead the floor above the retail space had been renovated to a generous, open living space. The décor was minimalist, almost Spartan. A cluster of furniture centered around a big, flat screen TV mounted over an electric fireplace in a corner of the room. The walls were mostly bare,
with an occasional splash of color provided by renaissance artwork. A single bedroom/bathroom combination formed the only room that wasn’t open to the main living space and I got a peek at neat rows of books lining the walls inside. A small kitchenette lay to the right of the front door.

  “You live here?” I asked in surprise, stepping deeper into the room, my eyes lighting on the grand piano tucked incongruously into the corner. Bishop seemed content to leave me to explore on my own, heading straight for the kitchen counter, which was littered with tactical gear and electronic gadgets I didn’t recognize.

  “Yes.”

  “Huh, I would have thought you’d have a place underground, not on the top floor.” I went to the window and looked down to the quiet street below. There were also a bakery and a book store in the same building and a bank across the street.

  “There isn’t a basement in the building, and it would have attracted too much attention at the time I bought the place to have one excavated,” he replied, pulling off his jacket and tossing it at a coat hook mounted to the wall. With the jacket off, I could see he had several weapons strapped to his body, and with as close as I’d been to him, I wondered why I hadn’t noticed before. While I watched, he unstrapped them all, laying the holsters neatly along the breakfast bar.

  “You own the whole building?” For some reason that struck me as odd, vampires owning property, but it made sense. Better to be your own landlord than risk someone snooping through your private affairs.

  “I do, as well as the one across the street. And no, I wouldn’t rather sleep in the vault. This place suits me just fine.”

  “What about the sun? Isn’t that a problem?”

  Bishop picked up a small electronic device. “Not for the prepared. I have automatic shutters at every window, they block out the light. Come here for a minute, I want to check something.”

  I obeyed him without question, curious to see what he had in his hands. “What is that thing?”