He allowed her to touch him. “Where are you going?”
She laughed and retreated. “I can’t very well disappear if I tell you where I’m going, now, can I? Just consider this warning my Christmas gift to you.”
He had questions, but he knew she wouldn’t answer them. He nodded. “Thank you. I will not forget this.”
Svetlana ran her hand up his chest and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss her. Her touch was cold, and he could feel the points of her fangs pressing against his lips. She pierced him, and a scarlet droplet rose to the surface. She licked it away, then stepped back, her eyes ruby red.
“Kris blood,” she said. “So tasty.”
She turned and walked toward the balcony. Saul followed her. When they reached the cold outside air, the Russian vampire smiled at him.
“I’ll see you around, English.”
“Be careful,” he nodded.
“You, too.”
She turned her back on him and leaped out into the open, where the wind seemed to catch her and carry her away. Saul envied her clan for their ability to fly.
Araminah closed the balcony doors and locked them. “I hope she stays away. Do you think that she was lying?”
He shook his head. “No. I think there are really assassins coming, but I doubt that they’re coming just for me. We should tell Tobyn.”
Chapter 4
They cleaned up and returned to the Silk Tiger. The doors had been locked by the time they arrived, but that didn’t mean that the place was deserted. The stake that Saul had kept from Svetlana’s gift box was heavy in his coat pocket as he walked Araminah back into the building.
Tobyn was sitting at the bar, a glass of blood-doctored whiskey on the counter at his elbow. Billy, the bartender, was leaning on the counter with his arms folded, his face only inches away from the Kris king’s. They both turned to look at Saul and Araminah when they came in.
“You’re back early,” Tobyn said, straightening. He grinned at Saul. “Couldn’t get it up?”
“That wasn’t the issue.” Araminah sat on the stool beside her brother. “We were interrupted.”
“Svetlana,” Saul said. He stood at Araminah’s side.
Tobyn frowned. “What did she want?”
“She warned me about assassins coming, sent by the Prime. She also warned me to leave Chicago tonight.”
“So leave. Bye.” He looked at Araminah, then back at Saul. “Coming for who?”
“For me, she said.” Tobyn snorted, and Saul added, “But I would be surprised if there weren’t killers intent upon taking out the two of you.”
Billy looked at his king, then at Saul. “Did Dumas send these assassins?”
Araminah shook her head. “No. Secondary and Tertiary Prime.”
“Ah. Dumas’ number two and number three hate me with a passion,” Tobyn nodded. “Catherine Wood and… who’s Tertiary these days?”
“Mario Antonelli,” Saul answered. “He took the position three weeks ago.”
“What happened to the old one?”
“Catherine killed him.”
Tobyn chuckled. “I should have guessed that.”
“Yes, you should have.”
The king grinned at him. “Bastard.”
Araminah said, “She said they might already be in America, and that they’re going to try to kill from a distance.”
“How? Are they going to shoot us?” Tobyn scoffed. “That doesn’t work.”
Saul quietly pointed out, “It will if it’s a headshot, or if the bullet severs your spinal cord. A machine gun could cut you in half easily.”
“You’re a ray of sunshine, as always.” Tobyn drained his glass. “I suppose the best thing to do is to find them before they find us.”
“Stands to reason,” Billy shrugged. “Are you sure this Svetlana isn’t one of the assassins?”
“Positive.”
“Are you so sure?” Tobyn challenged.
“I know her.”
“Really? And when was the last time you saw her?”
Saul hesitated. “It was 1964.”
“Twenty-one years ago.” The Kris king drained his glass. “And I suppose people can’t change in two decades?”
“Not vampires,” he answered firmly. “Not Trads.”
Araminah backed him up. “They’re slower to change than we are. If he knew her well back then, he still knows her well today.”
Tobyn muttered something to her in their native Romani tongue, and she snapped back at him in the same language. His reaction was to laugh, annoying her further. Saul put his hand on her shoulder, and she covered it with her own.
“Ignore him,” she told him. “I do.”
“You want to find them before they find us,” Saul prompted. “How do you propose we do that?”
“I have my ways.” The Romani winked at Saul and slid off his stool. “Good night. Billy… you coming?”
The bartender put down his towel and followed Tobyn out of the bar. Araminah leaned her elbow on the counter and looked at Saul.
“Naturally, there’s still clean-up that needs to be done, and he left it all for me. Again.”
“Like I said. Vampires don’t change. But it is a classic Tobyn maneuver, just like suggesting a course of action and then doing nothing about it.”
She sighed and stood up. “He’s going to do something about it, I’m sure, but in his own good time. He doesn’t feel a sense of urgency, clearly.”
“Does he have a sense of urgency about anything?”
“Getting laid.” She walked behind the bar and started the final duties of cleaning up. “Well, at least they refilled the ice before they left.”
“Small favors.” He joined her behind the bar to assist. “I don’t know how concerned I should be about her warning to leave tonight, but I don’t intend to go.”
“Why not?”
“Someone has to protect you.”
She stopped what she was doing and looked up at him, her eyes warm. They both knew that she was one of the most powerful vampires in their clan, and that she needed no help defending herself. Still, he couldn’t have lived with himself if he’d let her come to harm.
Araminah kissed him. “You’re so sweet and chivalrous. My knight in shining armor.”
“No armor,” he shrugged. “And I’m not a knight. But I will serve you to my last breath.”
She embraced him, and he kissed her hair. She stiffened, and he started to ask her what was wrong, but then he felt it. An ancient vampire, a Trad, was nearby, their power signature vibrating on the edges of his senses. It was just outside the back door of the club.
Araminah slipped from his arms and walked silently toward the intruder. She hesitated, and he sensed another Trad joining the first while a third enemy approached the front of the club.
“I’ll take the back,” he whispered.
She shook her head. “We take the back together, then deal with the front. The ones at the back are older and will be harder to kill.”
The back door opened, and there was no more time for discussion.
Two Trads, clad in black clothes with their faces painted black, slipped inside. They were armed, one with a pistol, one with an automatic rifle. Saul stepped in front of Araminah, but she gently pushed him out of the way. The invaders saw them, and they raised their weapons. One of them smiled.
Araminah grabbed Saul’s arm and used a skill that the Kris had and the Trads did not. She bent space, moving briefly through an unreality until they both reappeared behind the invaders. The assassins, unprepared for this ability, paused uncertainly when their targets vanished from sight. A heartbeat later, Araminah and Saul moved. Araminah grabbed the pistol-holding Trad and sank her fangs into his neck, draining him in an instant. She dropped his desiccated body to the floor, not dead, but too dry to move. Saul snapped the neck of the Trad in front of him, and the vampire’s body disappeared into a cloud of dust. He retrieved the rifle and shot Araminah’s victim i
n the head, shattering his brain. That body, too, disintegrated.
There were now three Trads at the front of the club, and Araminah took Saul through unreality once again. They stepped back into the real world by the front door and moved to stand on either side of it.
The door exploded inward, and the Trads burst into the club, flying past too quickly to be caught. Saul opened fire immediately, but the vampires dodged the bullets and launched themselves at the Kris defenders. One of them, a huge, burly creature, landed on Saul and slammed him into the ground. It bit at him, but Saul managed to squirm out of the way. He threw the attacker off, sending him across the room to crash into the wall, shattering the decorations there. Saul stalked toward him.
One of the other Trads had tackled Araminah, too, but she snarled and punched her hand into his chest, breaking ribs. He grunted at the impact and pulled back, and she punched again, this time with stiff fingers. Her hand broke through into his chest, and she grabbed his unbeating heart. She tore it loose, and the attacker vanished into a rain of powder.
Saul reached the vampire he was fighting, and the Trad pointed a pistol at him. The first shot went wide, but as Saul grabbed him, the second shot buried itself in the English Kris’s stomach. He grunted at the pain and grabbed the gun, trying to disarm the Trad. The other vampire was older than Saul, and he was powerful. Saul could not break his grip. He struggled with him, listening as Araminah battled the third attacker. He had to dispatch this one quickly so he could help her.
The Trad grinned at him. “You’re going to die.”
“Not today.”
He released the gun and grabbed the stake from his jacket pocket. He stabbed his enemy in the chest, and the wooden spike struck hard and true, piercing the Trad’s heart and destroying him. Saul rose, brushing the dead vampire’s dust from his eyes, and turned toward Araminah just in time to see her drop another drained Trad. She was buzzing with the power she had consumed, and her silver eyes shone. He had never seen her looking so magnificent.
He felt another wave of attackers coming toward the front door, but then Tobyn’s energy filled his senses. The Trads’ signatures popped into nothingness. The Romani vampire was their king for a reason.
Saul went to Araminah and offered her his hand. She grabbed it and pulled him closer, still feral from her fight but meaning him no harm. She said, “The back.”
Another Trad signature approached from the rear of the club, but this time he recognized it.
“Svetlana.”
Tobyn burst into the club through the ruined front door, his eyes silver and his kris knife in his hand. Svetlana arrived from the back at the same time. Tobyn took a step toward her, but she raised her hands in a gesture of harmlessness.
“I came to help, but I see you don’t need me,” she told Saul. “Keep your gypsies off me.”
“Get out,” Tobyn growled, “before I kill you.”
Svetlana ignored him and told Saul, “There were two more. I dispatched them for you.” She tossed a pair of Scottish dirks onto the floor. “Merry Christmas.”
She turned and strolled away, and Tobyn started to go after her. Saul stopped him.
“Svetlana,” he called. She looked at him. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
The Trad smiled and nodded to him before she walked out into the night. He wondered if it would be another twenty years before he saw her again.
* * *
The End
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About the Author
J. A. Cummings was born in Flint, Michigan and was raised in a nearby town called Clio. Appropriately enough for someone growing up in a place named for the Muse of history, she developed a passion for reading and the past that continues to this day. Her love of poetry and storytelling quickly followed.
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Her life has been one of numerous false starts, unexpected endings and fascinating side trips that lasted far too long. All of that chaos has informed her writing and improved her understanding of what it means to be human, both the sorrow and the glory.
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She still resides in Michigan and also writes as Tiegan Clyne.
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Read More of J.A.’s Books
Arthur Rex: Volume One
The Rune Series
The Four Powers
Blood Roses
J.A. Cummings writing as Tiegan Clyne
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Cryptomorphs Series
Ghost U Series
No Treats for Charlie
Devoted
An Addicted Prequel
Quirah Casey and Imani L Hawkins
About Devoted
Detective Torrence Parker is devoted to her job, but can the sexy, mysterious vampire, Ripley LaCroix make her doubt her morals.
Chapter 1
TORRENCE
Winter in Hell's Point always brought out the crazies.
As I stared down at the manilla folder on my desk, I knew that this winter was going to be no different. Because Ripley LaCroix's last mug shot hinted at the madness to the man. Long black hair with crimson tips the same color as the blood on the corner of his lips. Brown eyes that seemed to see through you even on paper. A thick and jagged scar that ran across his jaw, stopping at the corner of his lips.
And the fact that the vampire killed a popular politician let me know that he couldn't have his head screwed on properly. Especially since he hadn't covered his tracks well. As if he didn't care whether or not people knew that he killed the man.
I shook my head, dragging my eyes over the folder once more before shutting it closed.
I pulled the top drawer of my desk open, grabbing the small sheet of paper hidden at the bottom.
3201 Potren Lane
It hadn't taken long to get a location on Ripley from one of my informants, but it'd surely cost enough.
It's worth it, though, if I can get this scum off of the street.
I stood, stuffing the note into my pants pocket and headed out into the busy foyer of the office. The precinct was practically buzzing with a chaotic energy and people rushed around the room. The mix of criminals and law enforcement in the room was enough to have my shoulders tight as I made my way between all of the bodies.
A handcuffed man with a purple mohawk and blood covering his mouth growled as I passed, and a part of me wanted to laugh at the poor act of intimidation.
I'd face people ten times scarier on my way up the ladder of law enforcement before I'd finally become a detective. Hell, I'd seen scarier shit in my own home growing up in one of the worst hoods in Hell's Points. So I only spared the cuffed man a tight, unfriendly smile before continuing my walk through the office. I could just barely hear the click of my heels against the tile floor over the noise. "Parker, how's it going?"
I stopped in my tracks. I turned my head, eyeing the detective that the deep voice belonged to. A genuine smile crossed my lips. "Hey Sion."
Sion Cross moved closer, his badge hanging from his neck. His dark eyes tracked over my face for a moment before he offered me a hesitant smile. "Let me guess, you're up to nothing good."
I returned the smile, giving him a shrug. "I can't confirm or deny it." Because technically, I wasn't supposed to be personally pursuing LaCroix, not alone at least. But half the office was working off the books, some for personal reasons, others because they were dedicated enough to the job and since crime never stopped in Hell’s Point, neither could they.
"I see," Sion said as he rubbed at his chin. He glanced
over his shoulder before moving closer to me. A whiff of his spicy cologne hit my nostrils and as I stared up at the handsome man, I couldn’t help but to think for not the first time that it's a shame that he's just as married to the job as I am. I quickly shook the thought off. Sion Cross was handsome and he'd become a good friend over the last few years, but I'd be an idiot not to recognize the demons the man hides.
He'd never make a good romantic partner for me. I've got enough of my own baggage.
He kept his voice low as he inclined his head down to speak to me. "Look, you make sure you keep safe out there. The streets have been a little crazier than usual." A dark look passed through his eyes and he shook his head slightly. "And there's something brewing."
I frowned at him, my brows pulled together at his serious tone. I studied him closer, taking in the dark circles around his eyes I hadn't noticed before. It looks like I'm not the only one hitting the streets harder than usual after official work hours. "What's going on?" I asked him, my jaw clenching.
If there was something cooking up on the streets, I needed to know about it. Hell's Point was crazy enough any time of the year, but when the gangs and crews were lurking in the shadows, actually planning something... that's when I knew it was time to worry.
Sion shook his head, letting out a sigh as he backed off from me slightly. "I don't have anything concrete at the moment."
Holidays Bite: A Limited Edition Collection of Holiday Vampire Tales Page 32