As if to compensate for the masculine power, his face was classically handsome, almost beautiful. He was popular among women and he loved them back. He took it as a personal insult that someone would harm them. “There are no renegade women that we know of. Maybe they need the two-natured gene in their offspring.”
“But why do they kill them?”
Zach gave the matter some thought. “Perhaps they’ve already served their purpose.”
Jeremy shuddered. A breeding programme for homicidal devils, that’s what they needed. “So why humans and not vampire women?”
“You know how protected our women are. The older families especially are into that crap.”
“I don’t know if it’s crap. I kind of like the idea of protecting my woman.”
“You don’t have a woman,” Zach pointed out.
That was true. Like Zach, Jeremy had always been more of a free spirit when it came to women. A warrior’s lifestyle didn’t make family life easy, so he hadn’t even tried. An endless string of girlfriends and one night stands was the best he could hope.
It hadn’t bothered him before, but now Jasper, his brother and constant companion for the past three and half centuries, had found love in Philippa, making Jeremy’s life seem empty.
“Perhaps it’s time I got one.”
Zach snorted. “You’re more like me than you’d like to admit. Too interested in sampling to settle down.”
“Perhaps I’ve grown past that.” But Zach just laughed.
Not offended, Jeremy returned to their original topic. “So do you think there are baby renegades being born somewhere?” They both shuddered, thinking what a baby that evil would be like. How could a mother care for them?
“Maybe they’re born like two-natureds, with a gene that activates later or needs to be triggered.” It was a more comforting thought, provided that the child was given a say in the matter when the time came to become evil.
No one really knew where renegades came from. Circle warriors called them demon vampires, because they drank blood like vampires, but like demons they were evil, emanated foulness around them, and changed into tar-like goo that smelt of brimstone when they were killed. The goo then evaporated, which was handy when it came to cleaning up after the kills, but spooky as hell.
Renegades had first appeared in the early seventeenth century. They had gone largely unnoticed, mainly because the Sentient War had raged among the two-natureds, vampires and shifters against the sentients, who had been outing their own kind to humans. By the time the war ended at the beginning of the nineteenth century, renegades had grown large in numbers.
Warriors also didn’t know why renegades hated vampires. They had never managed to keep a captive alive for long enough to ask, because the bastards self-destructed when caught. They didn’t much care for why’s anyway. Renegades killed civilian vampires, so it was the warriors’ duty to rid the world of them.
Hunting renegades occupied the Crimson Circle full time, yet their numbers seemed to be on the rise. So where did they come from?
“Maybe they recruit?”
Zach considered it. “Nah. Who’d want to be a being of evil?”
“Maybe it comes with great benefits.”
“What, year-round central heating, courtesy of the down below?” They both laughed.
“Well, it’s not like people haven’t joined the evil side for centuries, voluntarily.”
“But don’t they get something for it, a sense of superiority or a reward in the afterlife?”
“Maybe renegades lure in humans by telling them they’ll become vampires?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
That was where they were, four centuries on. Guessing. “At least we know how to kill the fuckers.”
“It’s become too easy lately. There’s no fun in killing someone barely able to fight.”
Renegades’ inability to put up a decent fight told the warriors that most of them were new recruits, so warriors’ efforts in culling their numbers were futile. It didn’t stop the Circle from patrolling the nightly streets of the City. Renegades showed up there night after night, as if tethered to the place. Warriors didn’t bother trying to find their lairs elsewhere when they only had to wait and patrol there.
“If only we knew what drew them here. It would be much easier to find them.”
“What would we do if we erased them all? I don’t think there’s returning to granddad’s days.”
Zach was the Second Son of the Circle’s leader, Alexander Hamilton, Lord Foley, the son of their founder. Originally, the Crimson Circle had protected all two-natureds against humans, but while prejudice was still rife, warriors couldn’t exactly go around killing humans for it.
Jeremy was firmly rank and file. Human-born, he had joined the Circle after the Battle of Killiecrankie in 1689 where he and Jas had been fighting for William of Orange against the Jacobites. Jas had been fatally wounded, but Alexander had saved his life and told him that he had the promise and could become a vampire if it was fulfilled, triggered with vampire magic. Jeremy had born the same gene, and together they had been made vampires, and warriors too. It was rare, but Alexander had been impressed with their skills on the battlefield.
It hadn’t been an easy first century for them, fighting both their new nature and old warriors who had felt superior in their purer bloodlines. But the brothers had proven strong in Might, mastering the energy that powered the two-natureds in record time, and winning the sun in less than a century – a great show of strength for any vampire.
It hadn’t made their path in the Circle any easier, but they hadn’t asked for easy. They had been brought from poverty and the hard life of a soldier to the opulence of the Circle Manor, given the chance for near-eternal life, and a purpose. They could take a little scorn at the side.
And here they were, three and a half centuries later, still going strong. Jeremy had made it to Zach’s patrol partner a while ago, a clear indication that he was trusted and respected. They were a good fit, both easy-going on their free time and sharp professionals at work.
More importantly, they could communicate mentally, which didn’t necessarily happen between two vampires who weren’t blood relations. It made patrolling easier, especially when they were in hot pursuit of the enemy.
Like now.
They had a sudden visual of the guy they had been tracking, and the bastard took off at full speed, Jeremy at his heels while Zach ran off to round the block and intercept him.
Herd him towards Angel Street, Zach said in Jeremy’s mind. I’ll cut to St Martin’s and round ahead of him.
Taking out his piece, Jeremy shot at the renegade in warning, trying to guide the bastard where he wanted; a direct shot was out of the question, as he needed him alive. But his prey swerved to the opposite direction, towards St Bartholomew’s hospital, a maze of large buildings.
He headed to Bart’s.
Fuck.
Jeremy could feel Zach’s annoyance, but he had no time to pay attention to it. The young man was a good runner, whereas Jeremy was built for strength, not speed. But he wouldn’t let the renegade get out of his sight.
The chase wasn’t going his way, however, and he would have lost the bastard if the renegade had known the grounds as well as he did. The oldest hospital in Europe had stood on the spot since the twelfth century, and Jeremy had witnessed it grow and morph since the seventeenth. He knew it as well as he knew the rest of London.
The guy was heading to a dead end. Smiling, Jeremy sped up, but the fucker was fast and he managed to backtrack and head to the street behind the hospital before Jeremy caught him. He was close enough to shoot now, but Jeremy couldn’t. Not where they had witnesses. He kept running, hoping the idiot would turn back towards the City where Zach could intercept him.
His wish was granted. You’d better be on Newgate Street, because the bloke just turned there.
I’m on it. Just not very close to you yet.
Jeremy r
ounded the corner after his prey – and made a hasty stop so as not to trip. The renegade was lying on the ground, atop a woman with whom he had obviously collided. She was struggling to get up, but the fucker wouldn’t let her.
Jeremy’s anger rose. Capturing the renegade had merely been work before, but now it became a matter of honour. He didn’t pause to think about the consequences of having a human witness. He pulled the guy off the woman, took out his long knife and sank it into the bastard’s heart. The surprised look on his prey’s face satisfied him immensely. He dropped the cadaver and watched it morph and disappear. Job well done.
The sound of retching made him recall his surroundings. The woman was emptying the contents of her stomach over the curb.
Fuck.
He looked around, but they were alone. The pub in the corner was still open, however, so someone there could have witnessed everything. The police might be on their way.
“We can’t stay here. Let’s get you up.” He leaned over to help the woman stand, but she recoiled in horror.
“Don’t touch me.”
He checked himself, confused. “But I can’t leave you here. There might be more of them around.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“I won’t.” And with a tiny push of magic, he charmed her to sleep.
Zach arrived at full speed, not even a little out of breath after his sprint. “Where’s the fucker?”
“I got rid of him.” It occurred to him only then that he was supposed to capture the bastard alive for questioning, but it was too late now.
Zach didn’t mind. “Already? Is she a witness?”
“Yes, and there might be others in the pub.”
Zach disappeared inside without a word to take care of the matter. Jeremy bent down and lifted the woman in his arms. She was tall, but slender, and didn’t weigh much, even unconscious.
“All’s good inside,” Zach said. Then he noticed his burden. “What are you doing with her?”
“We can’t leave her here.”
“We can’t take her with us either.”
“I’ll give her a lift home.”
“Fine. But you’ll clear her mind afterwards.”
“Of course.” He was a vampire, after all. Clearing up human minds was daily bread to him. Literally.
As he walked towards his car, he pressed her closer to his chest. “You’re safe now.”
Chapter Three
The woman woke up faster than Jeremy had thought possible. He had barely got her in the car and the vehicle moving, when she jolted awake. One moment she was placid on the front seat, the next she was screaming at the top of her lungs. He almost crashed the car at the sudden sound.
“What the fuck are you about? Stop shouting.” She didn’t listen and instead made to open her door. Instantly worried, he locked all the doors, even though she was wearing a seatbelt and wouldn’t have fallen.
“Let me out, let me out!” the woman screamed.
“Relax. I’m taking you home.”
It had no effect. Abandoning the door, she turned to him and began to pound him with her fists, the punches accurate and surprisingly strong.
“Ouch. Will you quit that. You’ve nothing to fear here.” He glanced at her and saw pure panic in her eyes. Shit.
A tiny pulse of magic calmed her instantly, but only on the surface. He had never met a human who could resist vampire charm that effectively.
He pulled over and killed the engine to better be able to calm her down. “You fainted. What was I supposed to do, leave you there?”
“You’re a murderer,” the woman spat.
Ah, yes. She had witnessed that. “Don’t worry. He wasn’t human.” Renegades were the Circle’s secret. Not even other vampires knew about them, but he didn’t mind telling her. He would wipe her memory afterwards.
“Neither are you. You’re a vampire, aren’t you?” It was an accusation.
He had no idea how she had figured it out. Humans as a race were unable to tell the difference between one and two-natureds, but he nodded. “Trust me, compared to renegades I’m human. I’m just an improved model.”
His attempt at humour had no effect. “You’re going to kill me too, aren’t you?” He could smell her fear and it aggravated him.
“For fuck’s sake, will you quit with that already. I’m not going to kill you. I’m taking you home.”
“You don’t even know where I live.”
“I’m a vampire, remember.” He tapped his forehead with his finger, indicating that he could read minds. He hadn’t actually done it, as she had to be conscious for it. He had simply checked her bag for the address, a UCL hall on Gover Street.
She wasn’t assuaged. “And it’s supposed to make me feel better that you’ve violated my mind instead of my body?”
“Yes.” He had long forgotten what it was like to have complete privacy of his mind. When a bunch of people had the ability to communicate with you in your mind, you tended to lose certain inhibitions.
“That’s illegal, you know.”
“I’ll clear your mind. You won’t remember it.” It wasn’t the right thing to say either.
“So I won’t know if you rape me?”
Her accusation stunned him. “I’m not going to rape you. Why would you think that?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe because I’m locked in a car with a vampire I just witnessed kill a man!”
“He wasn’t a man.” He was beginning to lose patience.
“Says you.”
Jeremy rubbed his face to clear his mind. He needed a shave, but that would have to wait. “Look, we got off to a bad start. Hi, I’m Jeremy Grayson, vampire warrior of the Crimson Circle, and I spend my nights hunting the creatures I killed so they won’t kill vampires and hapless human women. Who might you be?”
She regarded him suspiciously. She had a nice face, pretty even though she was frowning. A strong, stubborn face. “Can’t you get it out of my mind?”
“I can, yes, but I’d rather not.”
“Suppose I give you a fake name, then?”
“Suppose you do. I’m sure you have a name you give to annoying guys at bars all the time.”
A ghost of a smile tugged the corner of her mouth, suggesting that she indeed had a fake name ready. It softened her features, transforming her from pretty to beautiful as her large, moss-green eyes lit up. Her light brown hair was pulled back tightly, but wisps had escaped and were framing her face nicely. Her sharp nose and dark straight eyebrows didn’t look so severe anymore either.
He reached for the inside light and switched it on. His eyes adjusted instantly, but her human eyes were slower to react. “I just realised you probably don’t see me as well in the dark as I see you,” he explained. The light might make her feel more comfortable too.
She nodded. She was studying him as curiously as he had her earlier, and he waited patiently. Anything to make her calm down. It was beginning to dawn on him that the situation might seem somewhat different to her than it did him. No wonder she was frightened.
“My name is Corynn Sparks,” she eventually said. “Spelt with a ‘y’ and two ‘n’s and no ‘e’ at the end.” He got a notion that it was her actual name, and it delighted him.
“I knew a girl named that once.”
“What, spelt the same way?”
She sounded so affronted that he smiled. “I have no idea. People weren’t fussy about spelling those days and, anyway, I couldn’t read.”
She stared at him. “The way you said it makes it sound like it was a long time ago.”
“I am a vampire, remember.”
She was truly curious now. “So how long ago was it?”
“You can’t expect me to spill all my secrets at once,” he teased her, and was rewarded with a smile that had almost no fear in it.
“Why not? You already told me you’re going to erase my memory.”
That was true. “Well, I was born in 1663.” He watched her take that in.
<
br /> “Wow. That’s … you’re really old.”
He didn’t feel old. Never had. He looked about the same age he had been when his promise was fulfilled, twenty-six, and if he didn’t feel quite as young as modern men of that age, it was because he had been older than that already before he was twenty. Life had been harder when he was still human, and people matured fast.
He shrugged. “I’m young for a vampire.”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“A veritable baby.”
“Hey!” But he just smiled and started the engine again.
“Come, let’s get you home.”
Corynn watched fascinated as the vampire drove the car in an assured, calm manner. No, she watched the man. That he was a vampire too was mere seasoning, a sprinkle of otherworldliness that made him more exciting.
The specimen of masculinity next to her didn’t match her idea of a vampire anyway: a pale, effeminate creature reclining languidly on a bed full of pillows. He called himself a warrior and she didn’t doubt him. On some other man the title would have been self-aggrandising, but on him it was self-evident. It wasn’t just about his obvious, overpowering strength, or his muscled body that was clad in a black leather jerkin and trousers in the style of warriors past. It was everything about him.
He was taller than her by a few inches – she was almost five nine without the horrible heels – but at least twice her width. She was leanly built, with the long muscles of an endurance runner. He had wide, muscled shoulders that made him seem even bigger than he was.
But his size was more than mere physical appearance. He had a presence, an energy, which she could sense. It pushed towards her, making her want to lean against the door to give him more room.
She had an affinity for two-natured energy, which she had discovered only after moving to London and befriending a leopard-shifter, Toby. He had amused himself by making her spot the different energies various people had, from the non-existent energies of humans to the vibrant and warm of shifters and cool and calm energies of vampires.
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