Night's Kiss (The Ancients)

by Mary Hughes

  “I get it,” I blurted, discomfort a tangle inside me. She was trying to connect, and I honored her for that. I was touched that she’d tried to keep me and sad that she’d been scared.

  But my goal for this meeting had been to meet her without either storming out or breaking down and bawling like an infant. Thrashing through all the hows and whys would be like raking a minefield. She’d wanted to keep me, and for now, that was enough. “Thank you.”

  She gave me a reassuring smile. “You’re right. Today isn’t about that.”

  I was a bit awed at her perceptiveness.

  “Today is about celebrating finding you again,” she went on. “Discovering who you are. What you do for work, what you do for fun.”

  Thankfully, Rey and I had also gone over this. Because of my true calling, my official resume looked a little thin. I prepared my carefully constructed web of lies. “Well, I’m self-employed—”

  “Kat’s a vampire hunter,” Alexis said. She gave me an apologetic shrug. “No reason to hide it from them. They know.”

  Knew about vampires, yes, but about me? “All of them?” I glanced at the faces around the room, getting nods in return. Years of cool fighting vampires, but ten minutes with my family made my head spin.

  Alexis explained. “The Meiers Corners municipal water was drugged. Maybe half of the city is immune to vampire suggestion. Are you?” At my nod, she smiled. “If you were born here, that’s probably where you got it from.”

  “You hunt rogues?” Liese said. “How cool! How do you behead them, with their super-strong bone structure?”

  I was stunned speechless again.

  “She has swords,” Alexis supplied helpfully.

  “Swords!” If anything, Liese seemed more delighted by this news of my destructive tendencies.

  “Y-yes,” I managed to stammer out. “My straight sword is Joyce and my talwar is Shredder.”

  “Oooh! Do you have daggers called Be-bop and Rocksteady?”

  Briefly, I squeezed my eyes shut. I was going to have to get used to being speechless around my birth family, either because of emotional overload, shocking comments, or total incomprehension.

  “Like the Turtles?” Liese must’ve thought I’d get it if she explained.

  Her husband Logan kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay, princess. You can make her watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles later. So, Kat,” he said to me. “A vampire hunter. We do a bit of that. How do you tell the bad-guy vamps from the good-guy vamps?”

  “Easy.” Now I was on solid ground. “The only good bloodsucker is a dead one.”

  It was a hackneyed line, and I expected rolled eyes or a groan. Again, they surprised me. The five of them exchanged significant looks.

  Significant of what, was the question.

  Liese frowned, the kind that said she was choosing her words carefully. “Some of them do good things.”

  “Yeah, but…but they’re vampires. They can pass as human for a while, but the monster always breaks free in the end.”

  I expected another shared look. None of them so much as glanced at each other, just grinned at me, nodding. That was almost weirder.

  Alexis dropped into the awkward silence, “Kat helped me test my new serum.”

  Logan frowned. “Isn’t that supposed to be top secret?” He finished feeding the baby, draped a cloth over his shoulder, and expertly burped the boy.

  “Kat is family,” she replied.

  “Yeah, about that,” I said. “I accidentally took your test tube with me.”

  “Keep it,” she said. “I have more.”

  The next half hour was like that. We’d chat normally for a few minutes then Liese or Hattie or I would make some totally whacked out comment and I’d have to bite my tongue or wrap arms around myself just to hold myself together and act “normal,” whatever that was.

  I was exhausted by the time I left. They wanted me to stay for lunch, but I’d roller-coastered enough for one day. I left these strangers who were family with the promise of meeting them at the Caffeine Cafe for breakfast tomorrow. I’d originally said maybe, but my birth mother mentioned my dad would be back by then to meet me. The hopeful little catch in her voice turned my maybe into a promise.

  Nearly running home, I shucked my civvies, donned my leathers, and soothed myself by working through martial arts forms then by cleaning weapons.

  First, I wiped down the Jewels—my shuriken. My tools were named after my dark web friends to make sure I’d always appreciate them—especially when they were saving my life.

  The Jewels and my pure silver shuriken, Lucille and Fleur, slotted into my vest. My butterfly daggers, Sam and Dean, slid into side-by-side pockets; straight daggers Spyke and Angel followed. A penlight went beside the nearly empty vial of serum. The Chances, stakes of different sizes and materials (or what I called vampy hole punches), went in their loops. I pointedly did not think about the stake Ryker had stolen.

  Or the way his muscles bunched when he used it.

  The weapons-cleaning therapy worked so well that I expanded it to my special-occasion arms. I didn’t carry them regularly—being a walking arsenal was cumbersome and a surefire invitation to a nice room with padded wallpaper. But I still needed them, including Lizzie, a silver-edged axe, a distance crossbow named Dixon, and a lightweight crossbow dubbed Black Widow (the actual dark web friend was Hubert Jean, but grade-school cruelty ensured that only her parents—and folks with a death wish—called her that). I also had a UV flashlight, great if the vamp was incapacitated, even better if you were leprechaun levels of lucky and could catch him misting (because mist burns instantly, poof). Catch them any other time, though, and it only pissed them off and made them more dangerous. The trunk had a false bottom where I kept emergency cash and my passport.

  I had modern weapons that I didn’t carry, too. Sure, the swords got me stares, but they were versatile, and I could pass them off as re-enactment props. With my shotgun, Max, or my handgun, Ruby, I worried about collateral damage.

  There was one space open in my trunk, saved for an Ultra-Bardiche, when I could afford it. The scythe-style bardiche, like a poleax but with a short haft and a long, two-and-a-half-foot gracefully curved, silver-inlaid blade, was almost mythical on the dark web. A single swing could behead three or more rogues at once.

  With that baby, I’d be the equal of King Vamp, with or without serum.

  Vampires can’t go out until dusk, so I had some waiting to do. I checked my dark web chat group. No replies. The rats fleeing Chicago would have to make the night interesting.

  Or maybe Ryker had discovered something.

  The possibility of seeing him again perked me up.

  No, the possibility of more information. Not seeing him. Liking a guy who was friends with the undead was the very definition of a toxic relationship.

  But he was pretty handy with both a talwar and wrapping gauze.

  At about two p.m. I called Rey. This time my sister was more talkative. She explained the incident she’d had on her way home.

  She’d come across a poor homeless man and had called for a pickup from the Chicago shelter where she volunteered. That was my sister, always helpful to those in need.

  While I was talking with her, my phone vibrated, startling me. Message scrolled across the notifications area. From Ryker.

  I worked to pay attention to our conversation after that. The moment we said goodbye, my pulse racing in anticipation, I checked the message.

  Meet me at Roller-Blayd Hall.

  The whole room seemed to brighten with those words. Because I was hot on the king’s trail, not because I was looking forward to seeing Ryker.

  Even I didn’t believe me.

  While I wasn’t expecting to find the wily royal today, fortune favored the prepared. I hit my weapons chest for some extra goodies for the vampire k
ing. First up, Ruby, my Glock 19 handgun.

  She carried a mag of 9mm silver bullets, or as I liked to call them, fifteen tiny torpedoes of vampy trauma.

  In Dallas, King Vamp’s hide resisted my blade, despite Joyce being a plasma-cut hollow grind Damascus-like steel with cementite nanowires and carbon nanotubes and… Basically, she was immensely tough and honed to a sharp, resilient edge.

  A silver bullet backed by gunpowder, though? That might hole-punch even royal armor. I hadn’t had Ruby with me that night in Dallas because a) silver was expensive as hell and b) the effectiveness depended on too many factors. Swords were certain—chop off a head, that vamp wasn’t fighting back. With the gun, if my aim was off or I didn’t hit the heart dead center or heaven forbid, the bloodsucker was old enough not to care, all a silver bullet did was slow ’em down, stop them from misting, and annoy the hell out of them.

  Coated with a drop of Alexis’s serum, though, and each round could be lethal, even to the king.

  Popping the ammo out of the magazine, I spread a little serum on each round and loaded them back in. The magazine slid home with a satisfying click. The Glock went in a concealed holster in my weapons vest. Swords and stakes could pass as cosplay. Guns were all too real world.

  Googling Roller-Blayd Hall showed a route three blocks east and three south. I could walk that in ten minutes. Or cover it in five if I used my scooter, currently parked at the curb in front of the flat. Though the two-wheeler was lousy for long distances and moving my weapons trunk, it fit in the back of Rey’s van and was perfect for toddling out for groceries or heading to a rendezvous. I ran outside and hopped on.

  As I zipped along the mid-afternoon streets, a sparkling excitement buzzed in my blood. My earlier nerves were entirely gone, leaving only a pleasant anticipation…

  Crossbows of crap. I am not looking forward to meeting Ryker. A man who was friends with the very sucker I’d brought the special silver present for? Hell no.

  Think about cornering his royal fanginess at last. About achieving the goal of killing him.

  I went through my mental readiness check instead. Body whole, full complement of weapons, twelve squared was one hundred forty-four. On Fifth and Grant, I was ready, willing, and able to fight—

  “Hello, Kat.”

  Chapter Seven

  As that chocolate-smooth voice tickled fingers up my spine, my mouth went dry.

  Screeching to a halt, I drew Joyce so fast my scabbard smoked. “Where are you?”

  For some reason, I thought it was the vampire king, even though it was broad daylight. No vampire was out during the day.

  The block was bare but for two buildings. Roller-Blayd Hall, a huge warehouse-like structure with high windows and several sets of doors, rambled over most of the block, along with its landscaping and parking.

  A single bungalow ate out a small lot behind it.

  Ryker sauntered out of the bungalow’s shadow. His backpack was slung over one achingly broad shoulder. Stopping beside me, he folded his arms over his chest in a way that emphasized his strength. I’d forgotten how big he was, how powerful.

  A lush shiver rolled over me. Just like King Vamp.

  Broad daylight, I reminded myself, pulling over to the curb and kicking down the stand with a bit more force than necessary. Definitive proof Ryker is not a vamp. The one good thing about suckers was you only had to worry about them in the nighttime.

  Killing the motor, I swung off to face him, still brandishing Joyce.

  Both black brows winged sarcastically high. “You may not like me, but isn’t the sword a bit extreme?”

  My emotions around him were considerably more complex than like or not like, but I didn’t want to get into it. I went with the easy answer. “I don’t like anyone in league with vampires.”

  He came closer, stopping mere inches away. Close enough to tower over me, close enough for the heat pouring off his body to send a lush shiver through me, cascading from my head to my toes.

  While treating my arm, his gentle touch had excited me. Now, as he firmly took hold of my sword arm, his heat, his strength, ignited a hungry urgency inside me.

  Desire. I wanted a vampire lover. It rattled me.

  “Vampires aren’t all the same, Kat.” He guided my hand behind my head, sheathing Joyce.

  As he released me, I managed to sneer, “They’re not all bloodsuckers?”

  “They all suck…” His black gaze dropped to my mouth, lingering like a caress. “But in different ways.”

  A deep, sensual shudder shook me.

  “Surely…” My voice emerged husky from my throat. I cleared it. “Surely they’re all evil.”

  “Vampires are as varied as humans. Some are good, some are bad. Some are very good.” Under his intense gaze, my lips began to swell. “Some are very, very bad.”

  My whole body caught fire. Bomf.

  “Damn it.” I fell back a step, wishing I could defend myself from a human the way I did from suckers. “Look, we’re stuck in this partnership”—he opened his mouth to object, maybe to the idea that we were equal partners in this, so I pitched my voice louder and overrode him—“in order to find the vampire king. You texted me. Do you have a new clue, or not?” Impress me if you can.

  His gaze sparked at my challenge, hinting at a temper under his cool, cultivated surface. If anything, that spiked my temperature more. He nodded at the factory-like hall. “Elias was last there. The police found evidence of a fight. Let’s see if we can find more. Follow me.”

  He started across the nearly empty lot toward the hall, leaving me gawking.

  “Hey. You’re not the boss of me.” If I let him dominate the partnership now, as arrogant and forceful as he was, he’d never stop.

  I trotted to catch up. He had a deceptively smooth, ground-eating stride, which carried him halfway to the front doors before I came abreast. “Won’t the police be onsite, doing their thing?”

  “No. CSU has finished their investigations by now, because, I quote, ‘The church ladies have scheduled the hall.’ Whatever that means. I got the impression it wasn’t good.”

  “The cops had to leave. Who has that much clout?” I gnawed on that. “The governor, the mayor, maybe.” Who were these paragons of power?

  Cart wheels squeaked behind us. I spun barely in time to avoid a woman of below-average size and above-average bustle trundling a stainless-steel caterer’s cart.

  “Coming through.” She swept the cart past us and through an exterior door. “Keep out,” trailed from the closing door. “Not open yet.” Her Marine-drill-instructor’s bark surprised us into stopping.

  I exchanged a puzzled glance with Ryker. For an instant, he was as flummoxed as me.

  He recovered first with a brisk nod. “Follow my lead.” He reached to open the door.

  There it was again. Follow his lead. “Nice try.” I seized his biceps to stop him.

  Powerful rocks flexed under my fingers. My pelvis went liquid; a moan bubbled up from the simmering depths. But beside the inadvisability of letting Mr. Masterful start our partnership by seizing control, the last time I’d let a partner lead, he’d ended up dead. I managed, “You follow my lead.” I stretched past him for the door.

  “I don’t think so.” He snared my hand, his bronzed fingers dark against my skin. “You have swords on your back, Kat. A vest full of weapons.” His fingers laced through mine. “This is a hall full of church ladies.”

  My fingers curled automatically around his, the heat of his skin reigniting my desire. I had to work to ignore it. “So?”

  “So, you’ll scare them. I can charm them.” He smiled.

  The winsome curve was so edible, I wanted to plaster my mouth to it. Chop me with a meat cleaver. He was too appealing by half. He was right—and worst of all, he knew it.

  I tugged at my hand, ineffectually. “Yeah, we
ll, if that’s your most endearing smirk, we’re in trouble.”

  Those delectable lips crinkled as if he was smothering a laugh. “Don’t worry, Kat. I’ll save my best smile for you.”

  He’d seen through me, again. “Nice try, bubby. I lead.” I grabbed the door handle with my free hand.

  It slid from my grip as the world spun around me.

  I found myself with my back flat against the building. Ryker stood nearly flush with me. I sucked in a startled breath.

  Sandalwood and man and leather filled my nose and lungs and then my whole being. His luscious masculine scent spread desire through me with each inhale until my lips throbbed and I was light-headed.

  He released my hands so I could have simply slipped out from under him. I didn’t go anywhere, too intrigued by what he might have in mind.

  He rested one big palm on the wall beside my head and leaned into me. With his other hand, he cupped my face, his skin warm and his hand sheltering.

  My pulse raced. Preparing for fight, flight—or anticipation of something entirely different.

  “I lead,” he murmured. His voice was low and husky, his gaze heavy-lidded, on my mouth. “In this, and all other things.”

  I leaped ahead to thoughts of hot, wet other things. My lips swelled under his regard and the throbbing doubled.

  “No. Me.” I rasped it, starting to pant. “I lead.”

  He bent until his mouth was a whisper from mine, until his breath billowed, warm and minty, against my skin. My own breath began to saw in and out.

  “We need…tact. Subtlety.”

  He brushed his lips against mine.

  My system went haywire.

  “You’re forthright.” The heat of his breath played havoc with my skin. “Refreshing and valuable, in my opinion. But this situation requires…delicacy.”

  He kissed me, ever so softly.

  Liquid heat pooled inside me, melting my muscles, stoking my need. His breath, his taste, was like fine whiskey, drugging me, making me quiver with desire. He kissed me with sweet, brief touches of lips, then more lingering rubs. The occasional peppery, tiny press of tongue made me smolder.