by Jessica Lee
In a few hours, the bars along The Docks would close, emptying their drunken patrons. Most would stumble off to their vehicles, and if lucky in their state, would arrive home safely. A few wouldn’t be ready for the party to be over, and they would linger, joining others who loitered after midnight on the dark corners. It was a vampire-feeding wonderland of drunks, prostitutes, the homeless, and drug addicts—a bountiful mix of easy prey.
There was only one problem: a vampire who couldn’t control their urges and continued to feed until they killed their prey became addicted to Death Euphoria. From what he understood, DE was the exhilarating high received by the vampire at the moment their human prey died. DE-addicted vampires, or DEADs, were a menace to the human population, and had become an eternal pestilence for his Enclave.
Only one other thing competed with Death Euphoria for its addictive nature: the blood of an ancient or master vampire, the very thing that gave Marguerite control over her minions without the nasty side effect of turning their brain to mush like DE. He’d witnessed the effects of her ancient blood firsthand during the years he’d spent as her prisoner, watching as she used a vampire’s craving for it as a tool to ensure his devotion. The vampire would become addicted to her and would do anything for Marguerite as long as he got another trip to her vein.
Voices neared the mouth of the alley. Stepping into the shadows, Kenric stilled, allowing the darkness to envelop him. Moments later, a young couple turned into the narrow corridor. They weaved into the alleyway, drunk and oblivious to his presence. Not that they would have noticed him, though, unless it was his wish.
The man wrapped his arm around the woman’s waist, pulling her to him before whispering in her ear. She giggled and then kissed him, as if he held her next breath. Kenric rubbed a leather-gloved hand across his jaw. How many years had it been since he’d held and kissed a woman like that? Like he didn’t know that he had slept alone for more than three centuries.
His world held no place for a woman. He had the Enclave to motivate him each evening, and vengeance against Marguerite to warm his bed each day.
It was enough.
It had to be.
The couple meandered around the corner at the end of the building. He should have been able to hear their footsteps fade, but the music’s constant beat drowned out the subtle sounds.
Another gust of wind raced around the building. The chilled fingers of autumn worked their way along the exposed edges of his neckline. With a shiver, Kenric pulled his collar higher. The pungent scent of roses and musk from the woman’s perfume continued to ride the night’s breeze. He rubbed the back of a gloved hand across his nose and turned to leave. But a trace of a scent, hidden within the strong notes of the fragrance, sparked recognition. Anticipation kicked his heart rate into fast forward.
The heels of his boots pounded against the stone street. Rounding the corner with preternatural speed, he found two DEADs holding the young couple by their throats, their eyes and mouths wide with terror.
“You picked the wrong place to hunt for your prey tonight, boys.”
Both bloodsuckers’ heads jerked at the sound of his voice and they spewed a chorus of angry hisses.
Kenric slid his daggers free and twirled them around his leather-wrapped fingers. Assuming a defensive crouch, he studied them, waiting for their next move.
The vampires had an all-too-familiar look. Their faces glistened from copious amounts of smeared drool. It dripped from their chins and extended fangs. Dilated pupils swallowed up any visible whites of their eyes, turning them into something straight out of a B movie with alien vampires. Death Euphoria addiction consumed them.
He parted his lips to avoid breathing through his nose. Their bodies and clothes reeked of excrement and sweat. A classic symptom of DE addiction, it drove all but the need for the next kill from their mind, including the desire to bathe.
Kenric’s gaze met the DEADs’. He dove into their minds, enthralling them, keeping the vampires’ attention on him. “This is my city, and pissing me off will only get you killed,” Kenric said. “Now, let them go.”
Their hands opened. The humans dropped, coughing and wheezing with each breath. As soon as they hit the ground, Kenric released his control on the DEADs and thrust a hefty dose of mental influence into the couple’s brains, erasing the memory of the attack and ordering them from the area.
“Fuck you!” Spittle sprayed from between one of the DEAD’s overextended fangs. The nasty shit hit the street inches from the toe of Kenric’s boot. If their brains had been firing on all cylinders, they’d have phased their asses away from him by now. But no. The bastards were like zombies with fangs—single-minded focus. Too juiced up to think past their bloodlust. They’d rather stand there and insult him, begging for a fight.
“Now, that’s just damn rude.”
With a flick of his wrist, he released a dagger. It flipped hilt over blade before sinking deep into the neck of the addict. Deep enough to hurt like hell but not far enough to end his sorry life. Yet.
The vampire shrieked in pain. His hands clawed at the dagger. Grabbing the hilt, he yanked the blade from his throat with a strangled cry. A gush of blood erupted from the open, sizzling wound. The river of red streamed down his neck and merged with the grime on the front of his Got Milk? T-shirt.
“You’re dead, Enclave.” The words, mixed with blood, gurgled from the damaged vampire’s mouth.
“Promises, promises…” Kenric twirled his remaining dagger.
The vampires moved apart, circling him like vultures over road kill. Finally, they surged.
Kenric leaped, somersaulting in the air. He landed on the balls of his feet behind them. The two ground to a halt, nearly butting heads. He grabbed the forehead of the one on his right and ended his life with a swift slice of his silver-plated blade, leaving the murderer’s head to dangle like an abused doll.
Ah, sweet karma.
He palmed the hilt of his dagger, enjoying the feel of its perfect balance as he rotated on his heels. The second creature reversed his step and spun, making for a quick exit. With a burst of speed, Kenric passed him, planting himself in the vamp’s path. The DEAD slammed into Kenric’s chest. Kenric lifted his dagger, preparing to give the rabid animal an undeserved merciful death.
But pain ripped through Kenric’s right side, halting the intended path of his blade.
“What the fuck!” He whirled and found another vampire had dropped in on the action. Another stab of pain shot through the right side of his neck. The vampire to his back had got in a lucky slice. Kenric’s vision went red. He pivoted and threw a kick to the center of the vampire’s gut. The DEAD crumbled to his knees, sucking hard for air.
Hot blood trailed down Kenric’s side. Air sawed in and out of his lungs. His head pounded. Fury drove the blood in his veins.
Reaching out with his mind, he harnessed the power of the wind. A trick he wasn’t sure every master vampire could pull off, but one he’d honed over the last century. His long coat whipped at his legs. Loose trash and sand formed a chaotic cyclone, disorienting the vampires around him. It gave him the distraction he needed.
Kenric closed his eyes. Power glowed in his mind like a white-hot orb. He coiled it tighter and tighter, compressing it, holding it as it grew. The heat of it burned inside his core for release. He shook from the increasing mental load, but he had to make sure it was enough. He would only get one shot.
Sweat ran down his face. He squeezed his eyes tighter, needing one more second…
Got it.
An invisible wave of energy exploded from his mind and body. It barreled into the newcomer and sent him flying into a brick wall. The loud crack of a shattered skull echoed off the stone streets. A limp and crumpled mound of vampire arms and legs slithered down the wall. He wasn’t dead yet, but he was at least out of the game.
Two down, one to go.
He spun, grabbing the other DEAD’s arm, and twisted. The vampire howled in pain as the bones in his
wrist snapped. The addict’s knife clinked and bounced onto the sidewalk.
With the heel of his other hand, Kenric rammed the DEAD’s forehead. The blow sent the vampire reeling back onto the concrete. Shoving his boot into the DEAD vampire’s face and neck, he held him in place. The bloodsucker hissed, and his lower body squirmed in a desperate attempt to escape.
Blood soaked his shirt and clung like a warm second skin to Kenric’s right side. Damn, he was losing blood too fast. Leaning over the flailing addict, he met the crazed eyes of the creature. “Like I said, pissing me off will get you killed.” He plunged the blade of his silver-plated dagger deep into the vampire’s heart.
Kenric yanked the dagger out and wiped the blood from his blade across the vampire’s stained shirt. Smoke rose from the wound, and within seconds, the body reeked of sulfur and death, a stomach-churning aroma that smelled like a sour and rotting landfill. Loud pops and crackles sprang from the smoldering flesh. With a whoosh, the body swelled to twice its size and the sound of ripping seams punctuated the macabre event. Seconds later came the hissing release of implosion and decompression. Thanks to the nasty reaction of a vampire’s blood to silver, Kenric didn’t have to risk the hours it would take for the bodies and clothing to decompose to ash.
One stab directly into each of the two remaining DEADs’ hearts, and the decomposition process was well under way. No evidence would remain of the battle for humans to find. Their blood would smoke with the rest of their bodies, leaving nothing behind. However, his own blood was making a fucking mess everywhere. He’d have to call Guerin to arrange for cleanup ASAP.
“Dammit!” He steadied himself against the wall before picking up the last scattered blade. His head spun on a perpetual carnival ride.
He edged along the wall with one hand for balance. The denim around his right leg, saturated with blood, clung with each step. The car was still four blocks away. Even as a master, there was no way in hell he’d have enough strength to phase back to the compound.
The wounds to his throat and side throbbed like a mother. The DEADs weren’t organized enough to have their hands on silver-plated daggers. Good thing, because those open holes would be sending up smoke signals.
His vision clouded.
Sweat ran rivulets down the sides of his face and dripped into his eyes. The salt burned, obscuring his vision even more. Kenric leaned against the wall for support. His chest heaved. Focus. Slow your breathing. He reached inside his coat for his cell. Going to need… Pickup…
“Bloody hell!” Everything went black.
Chapter Three
“Come on… Move! It’s the pedal on the right!” Emily glared through her windshield at the car with an out-of-state license plate crawling into the intersection. She twitched in her seat, her foot itching for the gas pedal. “God, I can walk faster.”
Her path cleared, and she floored the accelerator of her Corolla. It sputtered, then lurched forward, building speed. She sighed in relief, amazed that something hadn’t ruptured in the decade-old engine.
Track number five lit the LCD display on her CD player. Her favorite song, “Crashed” by Daughtry, filled the interior and lifted her spirits. Dialing up the volume with one hand, Emily thumped her fingers on the steering wheel with the other and hummed the melody, trying to settle her nerves.
She’d volunteered to pull the extra eight-hour shift tonight but hadn’t counted on the weekend traffic clogging the main road into downtown Elizabeth Bay at this time of night. She was late, and she hated being late.
With a deep breath, Emily took the next turn, heading into the area known as The Docks. It was a seedy part of town, and she wasn’t thrilled at the thought of maneuvering through there in the middle of the night. But if she kept her doors locked and kept moving, she’d be safe and shave ten minutes off her trip.
She’d been through there twice before, and each time the area had made her nervous. This trip didn’t feel any less intimidating. The shortcut consisted of several turns through narrow cobblestone streets lined with bars, strip clubs, and streetwalkers.
With a death grip on the steering wheel, Emily made her third turn. This one onto Anchor, another one of the bumpy streets. Her Corolla rumbled and bounced on the uneven pavement, making her bones feel much older than their twenty-eight years.
A fine mist covered the windshield, creating murky, shadowy images. Emily tapped the wipers to clear the haze. To her right, the dark form of a man lay slumped on the sidewalk, his upper torso tilted in an awkward position, facedown. Probably drunk out of his skull. She shrugged but found herself slowing the car for a better look.
Emily clicked on her high beams. The wide berth of white light flooded the narrow corridor. An unmistakable trail of dark crimson ran from beneath him. She hit the brakes.
Stopping on one of these streets late at night was not the smartest move, but her internal need to help the man overrode her instinct for self-preservation. No way could she drive off and leave someone alone in the street to bleed to death. She quickly dialed 911 on her cell before grabbing her first-aid kit from her dash and exiting the vehicle.
The car’s high beams cast a veil of white light around the man and her. God, there was so much blood. She placed two fingers on the side of his neck and checked for a pulse. His skin chilled her fingertips, but there was a faint thump. Shallow breathing warmed the palm she’d placed near his nose and mouth.
He was alive.
Her heart raced, each beat like a bass drum in her ears. Hello, adrenaline rush.
She ran to her trunk and pulled out an old wool blanket. Granted, she’d never expected to use it to cover a stranger who lay bleeding to death on the sidewalk, but hey, kudos for being prepared for anything.
First priority, she had to find the source of all the blood. After pulling on a pair of latex gloves from her emergency kit, she eased him onto his back, allowing gravity to aid her with his dead weight.
Bandage scissors made easy work of slicing up the center of his black shirt. An expanse of hard muscle brushed her knuckles as she worked. With his shirt pulled back as far as his leather coat would allow, Emily started her assessment at the top of his head, working her fingers along his scalp.
All clear.
A blast of cold wind stole her breath, reminding her of the urgent situation.
“Come on, Mister. You need to hang on for me.”
Moving south, she found an open neck wound, but judging by the slow rate of seepage, no artery appeared to be nicked. It couldn’t be the source of the large amount of blood. There had to be another injury.
Running her hands down his flank, her fingers slid into a deep, penetrating wound. “Found you.”
Emily ripped open a stack of gauze sponges and one by one packed them into the wound. Afterward, she covered his torso with the blanket. Satisfied she’d done all she could, Emily shuffled on her knees to recheck his pulse and respirations. With her cheek to his face, she felt for his breath on her skin and for his heartbeat with her fingertips. Warm puffs of air passed through his lips. Thank God. His pulse, though still weak, continued to beat.
The wail of distant sirens echoed through the narrow street.
“Not long now,” she said, stroking damp raven curls off his forehead, her own breathing returning to a more natural pace. Emily traced the outline of his face down to the coarse whiskers of his chin. The fine hairs on her arms stood on end as she brushed the stiff hairs with the pads of her fingers. She shivered, blaming the cold mist.
Her thumb found the full curve of his bottom lip. Curious for the feel of the skin there, she brushed his lip with her finger. She gasped. Cool, and so very soft. Her teeth caught her own lower lip.
A blaring siren yanked Emily from her fascination. Her gaze fell back to where her fingers lingered on his lips and chin.
“What the hell am I doing?” she mumbled, snatching her hand away. God, had it been so long since she’d been with a man that she now resorted to touching one who was unco
nscious? Maybe her ex was right. She was the one in need of therapy.
The siren quieted and the emergency vehicle pulled to a stop behind her car. Two paramedics rushed from the vehicle, leaving the red and white lights to flash the dark street in dizzying strobe. Emily backed off, making way for the rescue workers to do their job.
They worked fast, assessing him while throwing questions she couldn’t answer at her since she knew nothing at all about him.
With IV fluids now pouring into him and a defibrillator on hand, he had a chance. Relief swept through her on a wave of post-adrenaline rush trembles. She rubbed her arms in hopes of easing the shakes.
She breathed a long sigh of relief as they loaded him into the back of the ambulance.
“I’ll follow you to the ER. I’m on duty tonight in trauma,” she said.
One of the paramedics climbed into the cab behind the wheel. A silly grin lit his face as he glanced her way. “Well, looks like you got a jump start on your shift.”
…
Someone was trying to pickax their way out of his skull.
The metallic smell of dried blood weighed heavy in the air. A wave of hunger coursed through him, tightening Kenric’s stomach into an agonizing spasm. His veins burned, demanding to be fed. A thick fog clouded his mind. Where the hell was he, and what the hell had happened?
Muffled voices chattered in the distance.
The lethargy throughout his body had sealed his eyelids. Pushing through the haze muddling his brain, he assessed his surroundings. Along with blood, there was an acrid scent of antiseptic. Above his head, the repetitive sound of a mechanical heartbeat pinged.
Shit!
How the hell did he end up in a hospital?
Through the insistent pounding within his skull, the memory of his battle with the DEADs returned. He’d been about to call Guerin when he’d blacked out. Where the hell was his phone? He had to get out of here. The itch beneath his skin, like a fucking sundial, warned him that time was running out.