Blood Lines: Edge of Darkness Book 3

by Vanessa Skye

  “Okay.” Berg wasn’t sure what else to say. She wasn’t going to argue with seeing him every day at work and helping victims of crime. It was all she’d ever wanted. “So how’s little Jack?”

  Jay beamed. “He’s awesome. He’s crawling already. Can you believe it? The pediatrician was worried that the lack of oxygen before he was born might mean he was a little delayed, but he’s hitting all his milestones no problems.”

  “Of course he is. He’s an awesome little dude. He with your mom today?”

  “Yeah, she’s got him at my place. You know, I had a word with him before I left this morning, and he wants to know when Auntie Alicia is going to visit again.”

  Berg raised an eyebrow and snorted. “Really? Wow, talking already, too? What a prodigy.”

  Jay laughed. “I’m serious, Berg. He utterly adores you. I guess he takes after his old man that way.”

  Berg felt as if her heart had stopped beating.

  Jay fell silent, serious all of a sudden. “I know we don’t talk about that day, but I wanted to say thank you. For Jack. You saved him. You saved both of us.”

  Berg felt tears well and quickly looked away. “I didn’t save him. The doctors did that with the emergency C-section.”

  “They did that because you told them to prepare for it when you called 911. You did that when you insisted I continue chest compressions on Niah even after it became clear she was gone. I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to thank you,” he whispered. “You gave me my son.”

  Berg shrugged, suddenly needing to look for a file while trying to blink the tears away. “I wasn’t going to let you lose another child. You wouldn’t have survived it. I’m sorry about his mom, though.”

  Jay sighed. “Thanks. You know, I didn’t love her, but she was excited about the baby. She wanted to get away from her father and start a new life. I think she would’ve been a good mom. She was a little broken but essentially a good person. In a lot of ways, she reminded me of you.”

  Berg nodded. “I guess that’s to be expected . . . considering.”

  “And how are you, by the way?” Jay frowned. “I know I was gone a while, but you seem different? But not in the way I was expecting. You seem . . . better, actually.”

  Berg smiled. “I’m great. I’ve been seeing Dr. Thompson again without missing a single appointment. She’s helped me see a few things. It’s been a slow process, but I’m getting there.”

  “See things? Such as?”

  Berg sighed. “Such as, she helped me like myself. She made me see that my past made me the person I am, and I like who I am.”

  “You shouldn’t just like who you are. You should love who you are, Berg,” Jay whispered, smiling.

  “Even though—I thought—with everything I’ve done . . .” She looked away.

  Jay sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair.

  Berg was pleased to see he had regained the muscle he had lost during his time with Alexander, and the gray in his hair made him even more heartbreakingly handsome.

  “I never thought that I’d—Alexander had to die,” he said. “Even if he didn’t manipulate the judicial system to get out, we never would have been safe. Not Jack, not my family, not you . . .”

  Berg nodded.

  “You were right. Some people just have to die.”

  Berg’s breath caught in her throat as Jay looked at her, tears in his eyes.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Berg took a shaky breath. “I am, too. But I’m—I won’t put you in that position again. I don’t need to keep seeking revenge on my father. I’m done with that. Dr. Thompson’s made me see that I am the detective I am because of my background, and I wouldn’t give up what I do to have a normal childhood. I’ve made my peace with it. The abuse made me the woman I am.”

  Jay nodded, wiped his eyes, and grinned. He took a deep breath and clapped his hands together once. “Even though you’ve refused my repeated requests for details, one day, you are going to have to tell me all the details. Not that BS you tried spinning for CPD. I want to know what the fuck happened at that airfield—it looked like a bomb was dropped on it. Arena doesn’t have it in him to pull that off himself. Oh, and before I forget, I’m dying to know why Carla left Chicago like it was on fire, and without even resigning first?”

  Berg smirked. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Jay nodded and crossed his arms. “Hey, listen, I’ve got to go to another meeting with a potential client. You okay here?”

  Berg waved him off. “Yep, off you go. I’m happy it’s not me doing the face-to-face client meeting stuff.”

  “But tonight?” He caught her eye and stepped around her desk, grabbing her hand. “Tonight I’m taking you out to dinner. On a date. Mom’s more than happy to babysit for the occasion—yet another member of my family who adores you. How are you with that?”

  Berg smiled, feeling the beginning of hope bloom in her chest. “I’m awesome with that.”

  “Excellent.” He kissed her hand before finishing the last gulp of his coffee and heading for the door. “Oh, and Berg?” He turned back to her.

  “Yeah?”

  “Put that ring back on your finger. Jack also told me he wants a little brother or sister.” He winked, pushed open the door, and sauntered out.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Vanessa Skye has always had a love of words and spent her school years writing poetry, speeches, and fictional essays.

  After completing a Bachelor of Arts in print journalism and studying psychology at Charles Sturt University, Vanessa got a job at Australia’s largest publisher of regional and agricultural news and information, Rural Press, where she worked as a journalist in the central west of New South Wales for four years.

  Thousands of stories later, Vanessa decided to move back to Sydney and try her hand at public relations while studying for a master’s degree in communication.

  Skip forward a few years and Vanessa was once again joyfully studying various psychology subjects while managing a Sydney public relations firm. Enthralled with examining the motivations behind people’s actions, Vanessa realized what she really wanted to do in life was combine her love of words with her fascination for human behavior. So Vanessa quit public relations to begin the significantly more impoverished life of a professional writer.

  Inspired by a recurring dream, Vanessa wrote her crime fiction debut, The Enemy Inside, which challenges the concept of justice, asks if the need for vengeance sometimes justifies murder, and explores whether you can ever heal from childhood abuse. Broken is her second book in this series. In her spare time, Vanessa wrote a short story, The Piece, which was published in February 2012, by Dark Prints Press as a part of the ‘One That Got Away’ dark fiction anthology.

  Vanessa now works as a freelance writer, lives in Sydney’s northern beaches, and tries to immerse herself in salt water at least once a day.

  Acknowledgements

  I must thank all the usual suspects for helping me put this book together.

  My editor, DJ—you are a rock star! The only person on earth who understands and appreciates my characters better than I do. I’ll just let you write the next one and save us all the time.

  To my loving and supportive family and friends, who are always behind me being my own personal cheer squad, I love you.

  But the majority of the acknowledgements must go to my mother, Valerie.

  I only wish you were still alive to read this, Mum.

  You were my rock—the solid foundation that allowed me to pursue my dreams—and I didn’t realize it until you were no longer there.

  Your death has left me lost and alone, which will, no doubt, be explored

  in future books. And until I see you again, I just wanted to say thank you.

  You were the best mother. You kept me sane and on the straight and narrow, and I can never fully express my appreciation for that. Without you, who knows where I would be now.
So thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it enough when you were alive.

  Koven

  Chapter One

  The vampire silently watched from a balcony near the top of a shiny glass- covered skyscraper, enthralled, as the assassin neatly dispatched three Lore with brutal efficiency.

  Two of the three were beheaded before they even knew what was happening.

  Impressive, really—hard as it is to sneak up on a vampire, let alone deprive one of its head.

  Granted, the three Lore rogues had looked young and inebriated—no doubt snacking on some of the drug-addled humans wandering the club district in the very early hours of the morning. The chemical or alcohol- laced blood of high humans was a favorite pastime of the younger generation of vampires, many of whom were reticent to leave human vices behind after their turning.

  The third vampire looked shocked as his friends met their absolute death and tried to run, but the assassin was faster—considerably so. The Lore was killed quickly, neatly, and efficiently, without undue blood or relish.

  He narrowed his dark brown eyes as he surveyed the assassin’s graceful movements. The vampire didn’t kill for the thrill, which was also not unusual, psychopaths being common within their species, too. No, given the calm efficiency, the assassin killed for some other reason that he couldn’t yet fathom.

  He was far enough away that the low clicking of his compact digital camera couldn’t be heard. He zoomed in and refocused, clicking away as the assassin wiped a bloody sword on one of the unfortunate vampire’s clothing, sheathed it, and stuck around long enough to ensure all the Lore— vampires turned by another vampire—had disintegrated into dust. The cold, late winter wind whistling through the city would eventually scatter their

  remains across several grey city blocks. He was grateful they hadn’t been Hybrids. They left a mess when killed

  and a cleaning crew would have to have been called to dispose of the remains before any humans had stumbled across them.

  Pressing a few buttons, he examined the small screen of the digital camera critically. The leathers the assassin wore from head to foot made any facial features unidentifiable in all of the shots, but they were tight enough to leave no doubt in his mind that she was a female.

  A female assassin?

  He was surprised and a little excited. Female vampires were becoming increasingly rare, let alone one that fought as well as she did.

  Light thuds sounded the ground behind him, the wind moaning between the high rise and its tall neighbor not enough to muffle the soft footfalls from his sharp ears. He didn’t turn, however, as the intruder’s scent was familiar.

  “Striker. Are you following her . . . again?” Bradford, Koven’s second-in- command, asked.

  Striker reluctantly pulled his eyes away from the camera’s screen and turned slowly. “Yes. What of it?”

  Bradford raised an eyebrow. “You’ve surely got enough evidence against her to report to Kouncil by now. Why the extra surveillance?”

  Striker folded his arms and remained silent.

  Bradford ran his hands through his wavy, red hair before shrugging his heavily muscled shoulders. “I’m aware it’s not my job to question you—”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  “Just wondering if you can afford the extra time. The Kovens across the country don’t run themselves.”

  Striker shrugged, putting away the camera in the pocket of his leather jacket. “I find her . . . fascinating.”

  Bradford snorted. “Don’t let you never-ending drive for pussy cloud your judgment. The executioner’s noose is over her head and you know it. Kouncil wants blood. She risks exposing us all with her activities.”

  “You should see how she fights,” Striker said, waving toward the female, who was scooping up empty clothes and placing them in a nearby dumpster. “She’s quick, effective . . . deadly. And she’s cleaning up after herself, as you can plainly see. She poses no threat to us. On the contrary, she could be useful.”

  Bradford started down at the woman, wrinkling his fair, white brow. “How old do you think she is?”

  “She is too fast to be a Hybrid. She does not yet appear to be able to fly, so a Lore less than a century old is my guess.”

  “Less than a century?” Bradford looked away, narrowing his ruddy- colored eyes. “Good. She should be easy to capture and destroy then.”

  Striker clenched his fists. “Do not be so quick to destroy that which you don’t understand, brother. She could be a valuable asset.”

  Bradford shook his head. “There is no way Kouncil would ever allow a female to join Koven. Nor will they forgive her for such . . . unseemly pursuits.”

  “As much as they might like to think otherwise, it’s not up to Kouncil. It’s up to me who joins my Koven. Besides, fifty years ago they said that about Hybrids, and now they are becoming members of our ranks as fast as they mature.”

  Bradford let out a single bark of laughter. “Yes, you went against their wishes and allowed Hybrids into Koven, and Kouncil are still pissed off about it! Because of you they were forced to relax the ban on human and vampire relations, and the half-breeds sometimes resulting from them. All to boost our ranks. Vampire numbers are dwindling lower than ever before, and you know from personal experience that the turnings don’t always take —particularly for women . . .” Bradford glanced at Striker and winced but pushed past the awkward moment quickly. “But don’t mistake their tolerance of Hybrids after centuries of culling them with acceptance. They cannot stand the mongrels—not in the least. They still call them Tiks, for fuck’s sake. They move about in sunlight without any discernable loss of strength, unlike Kouncil themselves. It would be unwise to anger them so soon after a significant loss of face. They will never join the rest of us in the twenty-first century. They are too deep in the old ways and prejudices. I often wonder why we sacrifice our strongest vampires protecting them. Would we be so much worse off if we let nature take its course?”

  Striker shrugged. “My Maker used to ask me the same thing, and I honestly have no good answer. Tradition, maybe? Koven has been the right hand of Kouncil for millennia. But they’ll join us in modern society if I have to drag them kicking and screaming myself. You’ll see.”

  Bradford blew a sharp breath out of his nose in irritation. “Sadly, brother, I think you will see, and when you do, you won’t like it.” Running for the edge of the high-rise, Bradford jumped off and disappeared into the dark sky.

  Striker turned back to his contemplation of the female. He resolved to follow her, launching himself into the sky and flying above as she darted on

  foot through city alleys and quiet streets. He tracked her easily as she ran, and he hoped she would lead him to her

  Keeper. It would allow his men to find her much easier later, should he wish to arrest her.

  His mind raced.

  Kouncil had sent him specifically to identify and gather evidence against the lone assassin killing rogue vampires—Lore and Hybrid alike— indiscriminately and without permission. His instructions had not included rescue or engagement. Besides, the young ones she had killed had all been the result of unsanctioned turnings, so really she was doing him, his fellow Koven warriors, not to mention Kouncil, a favor. Any rogues she killed saved him and his brothers from having to do it later.

  But he did not believe Kouncil’s insistence that the assassin was putting them all at risk. After watching her from afar for several nights and over the course of many months, he noted how meticulously she cleaned up after herself to keep her activity safe from the human authorities. Her death warrant was another in a long list of knee-jerk reaction from a Kouncil only too pleased to kill first and ask questions later.

  Rogues had been an increasing problem over the previous few decades as vampires had sought to make children without the required Kouncil permission and without signing of the blood contract agreeing to the rules of vampire society. Many still carried a sense of entitlement over from the human wo
rld and did not appreciate the necessary constraints placed upon them in vampire society.

  No, it wasn’t the fact that she was killing rogues that caused the Kouncil’s ire. It was that she was doing it without their authorization. The fact that she was a woman didn’t help matters either.

  Kouncil was made up of the oldest of the old, so any change of any kind was not tolerated. Vampire survival in a human-dominated world depended upon obeying stringent strictures. Their argument? If her activities exposed them to the humans—the same humans they lived with in secrecy, mind you—then thousands of years of careful concealment would be exposed.

  As the humans leapt forward technologically, even if not spiritually or morally, vampires very existence balanced on a knife’s edge. Any day they could be discovered. Any day a young rogue or a careless Elder could be caught on a camera phone killing and feeding. Any day a medical professional could stumble across the greatest discovery mankind would ever know.

  The vampires had contingencies for these eventualities, of course,

  including well-placed people in all levels of law enforcement and politics across the globe. But there were no guarantees.

  Debates had raged throughout the centuries over their exposure to humans, deliberate or accidental. Debates often continued for many years at a time, but in the end, the result was always the same: the humans were not tolerant enough as a species to co-exist peacefully with vampires. Humans sought to either incarcerate or eliminate any threat to their survival, and no other species on the planet—with the possible exception of humanity itself —had ever posed as much of a threat to the human race as vampires did.

  It meant a war on a global scale. Devastating for all involved.