The Harley comes to life beneath me, and seconds later, I’m pulling out of the garage and onto the dark street. Mountain air surrounds me, and I breathe it in as I head toward the club I barely escaped from earlier.
If Jack hadn’t shown up, I probably wouldn’t have. Five vamps on one hunter. If I’d been prepared, I probably would have been fine. But you’d need a hell of a lot more than two daggers for that kind of fight.
Flashes of red and blue illuminate the night sky as I pull my bike up beside Ramirez’s black sedan. Police officers standing just outside of the yellow tape hold off onlookers who, for some disturbing reason, want to see the dead bodies covered in yellow tarps just inside the alley.
My gaze searches for Ramirez, who looks up as I turn my bike off. I climb off and head up to the sidewalk, ducking beneath the yellow tape and passing by Jack, who doesn’t spare me a glance. He saw me without my wig, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’ll recognize me. I take great care in making sure even the basic structure of my face appears different. Hell, I even paint the pads of my fingers with clear silicone to mask fingerprints.
“Hey, Astor,” Ramirez greets, his tone grim.
“What do we have?” I ask, graciously accepting the coffee my partner hands me.
“Four dead. We’ve got one decapitated, two were stabbed to death, and one—the female—looks like she had her throat ripped out.”
“Gnarly,” I reply, my tone not betraying any hint of emotion. An easy thing for me because I don’t feel anything. Haven’t in quite some time, and my lack of empathy is something my partner has grown used to. I walk over to where my wrist was crushed and kneel, lifting the yellow tarp of the vampire Jack beheaded. “That’s not something you see every day.”
“No, I’d say it’s not.”
“Do we think it was a drug deal gone wrong? Were there any witnesses?”
“Possibly. Bartender came out to dump the garbage just as the cops showed up.”
“He the one who called the police?” I straighten, my wrist still burning as my body works to heal it. I should be in a sling, but since that would raise questions, I simply stick my hand into the pocket of my jacket to alleviate some of the pressure.
Ramirez shakes his head. “Onlooker heard some yelling and said she saw a blonde woman fighting off the men. She went and called the police.”
“Blonde woman?”
He nods. “She’s gone. We’d check security cameras, but unfortunately, this club doesn’t have any working.”
“Wouldn’t want any evidence of the drugs they push through this place.”
“Bingo.” He runs a hand over the back of his neck.
“Think it was self-defense?”
“Honestly?” He sighs. “I’d like to go there, and it’s possible she knew our female vic and she was just the lucky one.”
“But?”
“The beheading almost makes that unbelievable. What kind of weapon could she have been packing to make such a clean cut?”
“A big-ass blade would be my guess.”
“Which doesn’t necessarily scream helpless victim.”
“Agreed.”
“Hey, Detectives? Check this out.” One of the crime scene investigators—a younger man I haven’t worked with before—raises his hand up, so Ramirez and I walk over to where he’s kneeling beside the body of the female vampire.
“What do you have?”
“Look at her mouth.”
Fuck. “Is that blood?” I ask, voice flat.
“Looks like it.”
“Her throat was ripped out,” Ramirez says. “Of course, she’d have blood on her face.”
“The blood from her injury is focused around the tear. The blood on her mouth appears to be separate,” the cop insists. “Which is weird.”
Of course it is. And typically, I would have cleaned it off of her. “People here do weird shit. The M.E. will be able to tell us if she was high, in which case, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise. Remember the bath salt craze?” I ask, kneeling beside her body.
“Sure.” He doesn’t look convinced, but thankfully, he lets it go.
“Do we have any IDs?” I ask, standing, and one of the officers near the tape holds up our field identifier.
“Working on it,” she says.
“Great, let me know when you have one. Where’s the bartender?” I ask Ramirez.
He gestures to the tape. “Over there.”
“Then let’s go see if he saw anything, shall we?” Here’s hoping he doesn’t recognize me. And, if he does, that he’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut until we can talk alone.
Jack is standing in the same place he was earlier, arms crossed over his chest.
“Mr. Keller, this is my partner, Rainey Astor.”
Jack reaches out and shakes my good hand. “Nice to meet you, Detective.”
Good. I relax. “You too. Can you give us a rundown of what you saw tonight?”
“Not much. I came out to dump the trash right as the police showed up. Other than a brief look at the bodies, I don’t have anything I can offer you.”
“Did anything seem out of the ordinary tonight?”
“Not that I noticed, but to be honest, I haven’t been working here long, and it’s a pretty weird place.”
“A witness said they spotted a blonde woman in the alley fighting with three men. Do you remember seeing any blonde’s inside?”
“Sure. I saw a lot of blonde women tonight.”
Ramirez reaches into his jacket and pulls out a notepad. “Short hair, shoulder-length, was wearing all black.”
Jack shakes his head and purses his lips. “I’m sorry. I wish I could be more help. Most of the people inside are wearing dark clothes, and with how low the lights are kept, I barely pay attention to features.”
I pull a card out of my pocket and hand it to him. “Thanks for your help. Give me a call if you think of anything else.”
“Will do. Am I free to go?”
“Yes.” Ramirez shakes his hand. “Thanks for your help.”
Jack turns to leave and ducks beneath the yellow tape. I watch him retreat, back down the street, also not something out of character for me. I pay extra attention to witnesses as they leave. Typically, it’s the walk that gives them away. The guilty always rush. Even if they were cool and collected during the interview.
“What do you think about him?”
“Not sure,” I answer honestly. “Probably worth looking into him.”
“Got an ID,” an officer calls.
Ramirez and I turn back toward the officer as he stands. Time to find out who wanted me dead. As I make my way over to him, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. I stiffen, halting in place and turning in a slow circle to peer into the darkness just outside the alley. Something shifts in the shadows, a blurred shape that I can’t make out. But when I blink, it’s gone. I scan the tops of the adjacent buildings in search of whoever’s watching me.
I know someone is even if I can’t see them…yet. Being stalked is not a new experience for me, but it doesn’t make it any easier to dismiss when you can practically feel someone’s gaze on you. And I’ve been feeling it a hell of a lot the last few weeks.
“Astor? You good?”
I turn to Ramirez and nod. “Yeah, just looking to see if there might be any cameras on the adjacent buildings,” I lie. “Let’s see who victim number one is, shall we?”
3
Elijah
“Elijah Hawthorne, you stand in front of this council, accused of consorting with a hunter against your own kind. How do you plead?”
The seven ancient vampires seated in their thrones above me stare down their noses, judging me as though they aren’t worthy of much worse punishment. The dodgy bastards practically wrote the accords and yet allow them to be broken consistently as long as it fits their agenda. Pathetic. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I’m afraid I wasn’t paying much attention.” I shove both hands into my pockets and roll my shoulders.
> Councilwoman Valerie lets out an irritated sigh and pinches the bridge of her sharp nose. “This is no game, Mr. Hawthorne. You are on trial, and should you be found guilty, you will be sentenced to death.”
“I assure you I recognize this as no game. What I do not understand, however, is how my assisting a hunter who was being unfairly targeted, as per the Accords, is enough to land me on trial. Not to mention, the supposed crime took place years ago. I hardly remember the night,” I lie. That night is forever branded in my brain as the first time I crossed paths with a hunter and didn’t have the urge to remove their head from their shoulders.
“She was a hunter!” Councilwoman Valerie argues back. “A murderer.”
“She was a hunter,” I repeat in agreement. “But as per the Accords, she cannot be targeted simply because of her lineage.”
Councilman Geril clears his throat. “They target our kind every day. And as you so mentioned, the crime did take place a few years ago, but you’ve ignored every one of our summonses. This council has more to deal with than the rogue actions of a disgrace.”
I wish his words bothered me, but I’ve heard different variations of the same discrimination for centuries. That’s what happens when you’re a Hybrid in a world of Purebloods. “And yet here you are. Gracing Billings with your putrid presence.”
“Here we are,” Councilman Geril repeats, ignoring my insult. “You assisted a hunter in killing your own kind. Why?”
“If I assisted, it was because our kind can’t seem to figure out how to not slaughter humans. This is hardly the dark ages anymore. There are other options.”
“Yes, options that go against our base nature,” Councilman Geril says. “And if I remember, you were as bloodthirsty as others—more so even—in your day, and yet you pass judgment onto others of our kind for their way of life.”
Low blow. “I’ve since changed my outlook.”
“Yes, because you’re looking for a cure,” Councilwoman Ona laughs. “A cure, as though you are faced with an ailment.”
We are the ailment that plagues the humans. “Everyone knows there is no cure other than death,” I say. It’s not true though. Rumors of a cure have been circulating for centuries, and eventually, I will find it. Not like I don’t have the time. Thanks to my ailment, I have nothing but.
“We are getting off-topic.” The worst of them all—Councilman Bronson shakes his head. “How do you plead in the case of assisting the hunter?”
“I suppose I must plead guilty. Wouldn’t you say so?”
All seven vampires nod, and Councilman Bronson grins as he slams his gavel down. “Then you will be put to death.” His pleasure is worn plainly on his aging face. He’s been gunning for my line for centuries. The Hawthornes are the only clan older than the council members, and until my father’s affair with a witch was discovered, it was my birthright.
Like I’d want any part of the bastards. They murdered my mother and the love of my life three hundred years ago. I glare up at him. Three centuries is a long time to hold a grudge.
“Come and get me.”
They nod, and four vampire guards behind me get to their feet. I stare up at the Council as the vamps behind me close in, and the moment they’re close enough, I spin, kicking out and knocking two of the four away from me. With grunts, they fly back, slamming into the brick wall.
Fangs descend as the other two come for me. I’m older—stronger—and they should know better. I lunge for the closest male, tackling him to the ground and relieving him of his silver blade like he removed mine when I let them grab me two hours ago.
With a swing, I remove his head and jump to my feet just in time to take off the head of a second vamp. The other two stare at me, their blood-red eyes glinting with rage as they close in on me. “Come and get it, lads.”
They charge and spin, their heads rolling to the side as the blade slices through flesh and bone. Weapon in hand, I turn toward where the Council sat moments ago. They’re gone, probably left the second I started fighting. Bleedin’ cowards. Reaching down, my palm closes around the hilt of another blade. With both weapons in hand, I race out of the chamber and into the empty hall.
Now on to the real reason I let them bring me here. Footsteps kept as light as possible, I race down the hall toward the dungeon. The Council hasn’t gone out and hunted for themselves in decades. They have a constant rotation of humans abducted and brought in—living blood bags at their every beck and call.
It’s one thing to drink and release, leaving your prey healed and with a mild headache. Most of the time, they don’t even remember what happened. But it’s a completely new low to keep a human prisoner, draining them a little more each and every day until there’s nothing but a dry corpse left behind.
I descend the steps and am faced with seven terrified pairs of eyes. Men and women stare back at me—one of the males looks to be no older than a teenager. Fucking Valerie. She’s always had a taste for the young ones.
“No, no, not again,” a woman cries out, shuffling as far back in the cage as she can get.
“I’m not here for your blood,” I say, setting the blade on the floor beside me. “I’m only here to get you out.”
A woman steps forward, strength in the set of her shoulders and the way she moves closer to the bars while the others remain behind. “You’re not a vampire?”
“I’m not like them.” Which is true. I grip the chain and yank, snapping the links off. All of them jump back.
“Yes, you are!” the teenager yells, but the woman who spoke a moment ago takes a hesitant step toward me.
She peers at me through the dim light, and I can once again sense strength in her even as I can also tell she’s been down here longer than most. Her pale complexion, gaunt face, and the dirt smeared on her light clothing tell the story of a person who’s probably been here for a week at least. “Look at his eyes. They aren’t red like the others.”
“We’re running out of time, so if you no longer wish to be a living lunch box, I implore you to trust me so we can get out of here. Those of you who wish to stay and take your chances, feel free.” I want to help, but I have no intention of losing my head because they can’t summon the backbone to fight for their lives.
They move toward me, the woman who seemed braver than the rest of them gripping the hand of the young teen and guiding him out of the metal cage.
“Stick close, and stay behind me.” Since we’re underground, there are multiple exit routes. The one I mapped out will take us through the tunnels and up into a residential neighborhood, giving them their best chance at survival, especially considering the early daylight waiting for us. Other than the members of the Council, my line is the only one old enough to walk in the day.
With age comes many perks, but jealousy tends to wipe out full lines prior to the Day Walker stage. Basically, the likelihood of anyone following us is slim. I only wish I was here to see the bastards’ faces when they realize their food walked right out.
“This way.” I guide them down a narrow stone hallway that I marked as plan A. The Immortal Council is only in the States a handful of weeks out of the year. Since the Council is based out of England, they tend to stick to that part of the world.
Lucky for me, my helping the eldest Astor sister drew enough attention to garnish an in-person visit as soon as they had the chance.
Five minutes pass in the dark before we turn down another hall. Relief washes over me when the ladder at the end comes into view. I grip the rungs and ascend quickly, pressing the manhole cover up before shoving it completely to the side and looking around.
The residential street is near empty this early in the morning as rays of red and gold color the sky with early dawn. Hoisting myself up, I reach down and grip the hand of the teenager first, pulling him to safety as the others climb out.
He’s by far the weakest, and based on his pale complexion and the way he’s swaying on his feet, he would have been dead by nightfall.
“What
do we do now?” the woman asks as she wraps an arm around the teen. I cover the hole up with the steel cover and take a deep breath. That marks one item off my task list for the day.
“There’s a detective who can help you.”
“No one is ever going to believe us,” she insists.
“She will,” I assure them before pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to her. “Go here, and ask for Detective Rainey Astor. Talk to no one but her, understand?”
The woman nods. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for you. Now go.”
She continues to stare up at me for a moment. “I will thank you because, whatever your reasons, I’ll get to see my son again.” And with that, she turns on her heel and leads the group away from the tunnels.
I move to the sidewalk as the humans head down the opposite side, back toward town. Sticking to the shadows in between houses, I follow for a few minutes just to ensure they aren’t tracked down. If there’s one thing the Council doesn’t want, it’s the Police involved in their matters. And this group could lead the entire force straight to the door.
I need them to make it to the station. If I’m ever going to convince Rainey Astor to help me, I’m going to need all the proof I can get to show her that I’m not like other vampires she’s had the displeasure of meeting.
As soon as they’re out of view, I shove both hands into my pockets and make my way over to my car. Now, on to part two. There’s a particularly nasty vampire clan who’s about to discover they fucked with the wrong person last night.
I climb into my sedan, my thoughts drifting back to the police detective I had the privilege of speaking to if only for a few minutes late last night.
My hope is that Rainey Astor is everything her sister claimed her to be. If she is, those people stand a chance, and the Council is about to go head-to-head with one of the most powerful hunters in recent history.
4
Rainey
“You know those things do not count as breakfast, right?”
Blood Hunt Page 3