Mystic Realms: A Limited Edition Collection

by Nicole Morgan

  Both of these big, brawny men were human. A single sniff told him that once they were beside him. One smelled earthy, faintly like pine and campfire smoke, and an undefined but strong scent that teased at the edges of Harley’s memory. In the end it eluded him, and he shook his head to clear it, unconcerned. These were flesh and blood creatures with heartbeats, not vampires in disguise. The unnamed scent didn’t matter. He was safe, for the moment, from his executioners.

  The other man reeked of Italian seasonings, garlic in particular. Harley smiled when he recognized the once dreaded scent and he inhaled deeply. Before his head wound, the smell would have made him cringe. Now it almost made his mouth water. One more sign his life was going back to hell in a hand basket.

  After over thirty years as a vampire, it was brutal to have to revert to a partially humanized state, however temporary he hoped it was. He hadn’t realized how good he’d had it as a vampire. He’d never been bothered by extreme temperatures, petty illness or physical defects. Now he was cold, weak and if he was being truthful with himself, terrified. Eliminators weren’t known for the humane way they rid the world of ‘defective’ vampires — what they now considered him to be.

  Just thinking of the stories he’d heard about the ‘monster killers’ made the nausea boil up in his gut again. He liked the eyes in his head. They were nice, hazel eyes, slightly exotic looking with their almost-almond shape and oddly crystallized threads of green, blue, gray and black. One of his best seductive features, he’d been told. He wanted them left right where they were. His head looked best on his shoulders, too. Decapitation, evisceration, enucleation, and amputation were all such ugly words, words the Eliminators worked hard to create new, more horrendous definitions for.

  Hurrying, the leather soles of his boots made him lose his footing twice on the slick blacktop. He reached for the door handle just as the earth-tainted trucker let go of it. The man stopped, sniffed, turned back and then held the door open for Harley.

  “You’re gonna freeze your assets off, boy. That little bitty jacket ain’t made for this neck of the woods.” The man looked to be in his forties, broad shouldered, with a fringe of washed-out honey-blond hair under a fur hat with earflaps. His bulk was wrapped in layers of clothing beneath a heavy brown canvas coat. Despite the suggestiveness of his comment, the look on the man’s reddened face was part disbelief and part amusement, with a touch of fatherly sternness.

  “I can take it.” Harley smiled back, radiating what he knew was a confident gleam in his eye. The gleam was destroyed when a violent shiver visibly shook his entire body. He had enough grace to look sheepish. “But I don’t have to like it.”

  “Better get on in here and warm up then. Take a stool at the counter in the middle. That’ll sit you right by one of the heating vents.” The trucker herded Harley through the vestibule into the main diner, a concerned hand on Harley’s hunched shoulder.

  “Name’s Abe, by the way.” Abe grabbed Harley’s hand and vigorously shook it.

  “Ah, yeah.” Harley wiped the sweat from the man’s palm onto his jeans, then wrapped his arms around his chest to contain another shiver, this one less violent but still evident. He hoped Abe wouldn’t notice he didn’t return the courtesy of giving his own name. “Nice to meet you.”

  They walked over a strip of bright yellow symbols on the floor and another shiver shook Harley’s lean frame, making him pause. A sudden stabbing pain in his head made the healing bullet wound burn. The room wavered for a moment, but Harley shook off the accompanying wave of dizziness. Under Abe’s watchful eye, he moved farther into the cafe to sit down.

  “Damn, son, you are pale.” Abe drew in a deep breath and sniffed, wrinkling his nose like it itched. “I’ve seen road kill looked better than you.”

  Abe shoved Harley in the direction of the swivel-mounted stools in front of a gray laminated counter top where half a dozen patrons sat in various stages of drinking and eating.

  Abe slipped out of his jacket and called out to a plump woman dressed in a pink fleece jogging suit. She wore a big smile and too much blue eye shadow. “Betty, we got a young one here that needs some looking after. Get him some of your good home cookin’ before he drops over in a dead faint from the chills.”

  Smiling despite himself at the ‘dead’ comment, Harley nodded his thanks as Betty instantly gravitated toward them.

  “Got just the thing for him, Abe, honey. Show the boy where to sit.” Betty flashed Harley a bright smile that dimmed a bit as she really looked at him. “Boy’s white as a ghost.”

  Betty unexpectedly reached out and patted Harley’s cold cheek, then huffed in apparent disapproval. She turned on her heel and hustled toward the kitchen area, calling over her shoulder to no one in particular. “Somebody sit him down before he falls down while I find him something to warm his insides.”

  Abe pointed a beefy, callused finger at an empty stool two seats away. “You heard the woman, son, sit down. Get yourself some hot coffee and a bowl of Betty’s biscuits and gravy. She’ll put you to rights.” Abe turned his attention to greeting two of the men already seated at the counter, but Harley noticed the man kept a watchful eye on him until he took his stool.

  Once he sat down, Harley made sure that, when he swiveled the stool to his left, he had a good view of the front door. According to the aged and yellowed signs on the far wall, the bathrooms were conveniently located to his right. Bathrooms were usually by back doors and sometimes had windows. Escape routes were always foremost in his mind.

  His sense of time had also been disrupted by the bullet, but he knew the dawn had to be very close now. If no truckers left the diner soon that he could hitch a ride with, he might have to spend the day sleeping in one of the bathroom stalls to stay out of sight and out of the direct light.

  Harley gazed out the large, insulated picture window behind him and watched the dancing snow shift and pirouette against the glass, the shriek of the wind louder and more foreboding than only a few minutes ago. It made his bones ache, the mournful screams sending a tingle of unease down his spine. What he wouldn’t give to be in a quiet, dark room alone, safe, warm and unbothered.

  As he turned his back on the darkness and snow, a cup of steaming coffee and a large bowl of chicken soup slid under his nose. Betty had returned.

  “This’ll help some. Warm you up and put some color and heat back in those cold cheeks of yours, sweetie.” Betty patted his hand, fingers rubbing over the slowly healing scars from his own teeth. “Your hands are all cut up, darlin’.” She added, “Stop biting your nails!” Even though it was obviously not his problem. She patted his hands again, an understanding look in her eye. “You want a second helpin’ on the soup, you just holler. On the house.” With a wink and another pat, she was off to refill coffee cups and banter with her new arrivals.

  Harley was surprised to realize he liked her. When she leaned in close, she smelled like lemons and cedar to him. He’d liked lemon drops when he was human. They tasted tart but pleasing. The scent suited Betty.

  The hunger stirred slightly in him and he couldn’t help wonder what her blood tasted like but, before he could embrace the urge, the desire wafted away leaving him hollow and tired again. He didn’t even have to bite his fingers to quell it this time.

  God, he wanted to feel better. His appetite had all but disappeared and without nourishment he’d never heal. The only time he had the urge to even snack now was during sex and that was proving to be an opportunity that happened more and more rarely these days. He just didn’t have the energy for it.

  Sighing, Harley pretended to sip at the soup while he let the warmth of its fragrant steam waft up into his face and invade his nose and lungs. Cold hands wrapped around the hot ceramic coffee mug, he closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift like the vapor rising off the hot food. It was comfortable and homey here. It gave him the illusion of being safe.

  He stirred only once, jumping slightly when Abe slapped his back and gruffly commanded, “Eat up,
son, won’t do you any good in the bowl.” The big man passed behind him on his way to the bathroom.

  Harley nodded but remained motionless, mind drifting to more pleasant times as he basked in the warm air blasting out of the heating vent near him.

  He didn’t know how long he had been daydreaming again, but he started for a second time at the sound of the diner door snapping open. A blast of cold air fought for entrance into the toasty warm room and out of the corner of his eye he saw something that turned his pleasant daydream to dust.

  With his sluggish post-injury reactions further hindered by lack of sleep and inadequate nourishment, Harley wasn’t sure if he had moved fast enough. Once in the protection of the tiny alcove leading to the bathrooms, he peeked at the other vampire. Two more truckers had entered along with the Eliminator, partially blocking his view. Harley hoped they had blocked him from the assassin’s view as well, but he didn’t wait around to find out. His lingering scent, diseased and distinct to his own kind, would be enough to confirm his presence within seconds.

  Banking on the building being old enough to have a window in the bathrooms, he tore into the men’s room and shut the door, leaning his weight against it, forehead resting on the solid steel. He tried to calm his buzzing, confused senses but the effort seemed pointless. He’d had few defenses against these assassins when he had been strong and healthy. Now, weak, without most of his vampire abilities and alone, he didn’t stand a chance. His only defense was to run, but dawn was already on the horizon.

  A cold draft of air struck the back of his neck, telling Harley that the room did indeed have a window. A window someone else must have just recently used. Used to come into the bathroom. Used to be ready and waiting for him when he tried the same thing. Suddenly the vampire on the other side of the door wasn’t as important as the one on this side.

  Scrabbling vainly for the door handle, Harley was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and thrown up against the wall beside the door, back slamming hard into the rough paneled wall. The short leather jacket, scrunched high up his back by the attack, allowed slivers of pine from the wall to gouge his skin. One slid deep between his shoulder blades. A scarred face, more animal than human, shoved up close to his own and the glow of fevered yellow eyes bore into his.

  The vampire was tall and angular, sharp-boned, and thin, but unbridled power and strength radiated off him in waves. Strong and bony, the vampire’s hands were out of Harley’s view, one crushed against Harley’s throat and the other with a strangle hold on Harley’s balls. The sneer on his lips couldn’t be described as anything short of malicious.

  “What’s the hurry, rentboy?” The voice was unexpectedly deep and sensual. “It’s said you do some of your best work in public bathrooms.”

  The hold on his balls tightened. Harley grimaced and gasped, fingers working frantically to loosen the deadly grip on his throat. He couldn’t answer, even if he’d wanted to. He didn’t need to breathe, but he couldn’t talk without breathing.

  The vampire leaned in closer and licked up Harley’s jaw to his hair line, the thick muscle immediately finding the small, healed scar from the bullet wound and pressing on it.

  The tiny, still-knitting bone fragments under Harley’s scalp shifted minutely. Harley thrashed and clawed at the vampire’s hands, the resulting flash of pain and nausea almost more than he could stand.

  The sudden jiggle of change and a belt buckle was drowned out by the flushing of a toilet that startled both of them. Abe lumbered out of one of the stalls and strode toward them, gaze locking on the Eliminator’s grip on Harley’s neck.

  “What the hell’s going on here?”

  The vampire swiftly drew back, releasing Harley, but not before Abe’s gaze dropped to see the hold the vampire had on Harley’s crotch.

  The trucker strode brazenly up to Harley’s side and shoved his bulk between the two, forcing the Eliminator to back off a few steps more. Despite Abe’s obvious physical strength for a human, Harley knew the only thing keeping the man alive right now was the Eliminator’s dislike of a complication like one of involving a human in their work.

  “This asshole giving you trouble, son?” Abe ran a harsh glare over the tall vampire’s now empty, grasping hands and then pointedly brought his gaze up to the creature’s sneering face. He spared Harley a quick glance. “You hurt?”

  Tired of being treated like he was a weakling and a failure, Harley threw a disdainful glare back at Abe. “Not your concern. Just a misunderstanding. I can handle it.”

  A grunt of displeasure hissed out of the tall vampire. “Listen to him, mister. Butt out.” He spit on the floor, giving both men a disgusted glare. “He’s right, he likes to be handled. Don’t you, boy?”

  Ignoring Harley’s biting dismissal, Abe bristled and moved forward. The Eliminator visibly tensed, a snarl on his thin, colorless lips.

  Harley readied himself for another attack, one where both he and Abe came out the losers. No human could withstand this kind of vampire attack and Harley couldn’t defend himself, let alone Abe. Not that he was inclined to protect a human, but all the same, it would be a bloodbath.

  The tall vampire snarled, and took a step closer so he was chest to chest with the brawnier trucker, eager anticipation on his face.

  As if on cue, the door burst open and the two truckers who had arrived after Harley and Abe, barreled into the room. They both pulled up short, eyeing the standoff.

  “Hell now, what’s the problem in here, Abe?” The smaller of the two new arrivals stood beside Abe, jabbing one knobby fist into his open palm as he stared at the tall, dark stranger facing off with his friend.

  Not wanting things to escalate, Harley took advantage of the open door and the wall of aggressive flesh between himself and his assassin and fled the room. But once out in the main diner, he pulled up short again.

  The first rays of dawn filtered through the wide glass front of the diner, a gray, hazy light that made Harley sweat and his stomach roll with terror. But it wasn’t nearly as frightening as the man that stood by the front door just to the far side of the yellow symbols decorating the floor. One dressed identically to the vampire Harley had just left behind in the men’s room. From the black down parka to the unforgiving sneer, he was obviously one of a pair.

  This encounter was the first time Harley had seen the Eliminators in person. He’d been running from rumors and menacing shadows since the first whispered tip-offs that they were after him filtered through the seedy bloodsport circles he had inhabited as a pay-for-play sex toy.

  A few people had told him about his coming fate at the hand of the Eliminators, but no one, not even vampires he had know for thirty years, had stood up for him or offered to help him. No one until these humans, these strangers. He consoled himself with the certain knowledge that they wouldn’t have done so either if they knew what he really was—a blood-drinking member of the elite undead that walked among them.

  In the last thirty years Harley hadn’t killed anyone since the very first hunger consumed him. He’d come close during the following few weeks of learning to control the urge to take more than he needed, but he’d always believed in live and let live, even after the change.

  Besides, killing every man who paid to sleep with you was a poor way to build a clientele. Snacking and sipping on several johns a night was plenty and the sex was better that way too.

  Harley was physically slight and his blood desire was small compared to some of his breed. Since his head wound, his urges had dwindled to next to nothing. His body demanded more, but his stomach couldn’t oblige.

  Right now his gut felt like it was turning inside out.

  He stood paralyzed, reluctant to step into the growing pre-dawn light and draw a step closer to the same fate that he had just slipped away from. He suddenly, surprisingly, missed Abe’s solid presence.

  Undoubtedly alerted by the vampire ability to sense their own, the new stranger instantly locked his gaze onto Harley. He just stood by the doorway,
confidently waiting for Harley to come to him.

  Harley could tell by the way the vampire flared his nostrils that he had picked out Harley’s scent and found it unappealing. It only took a second for the gleam of triumph to light up the Eliminator’s eyes. This assassin actually pursed his lips to keep a twisted smile from showing but failed. It chilled Harley more than the other killer’s cruel sneers had.

  There was a sudden warmth near him and Harley started to see Abe at his side. Harley glanced behind to see the two other truckers amble out of the men’s room and retake their seats at the counter. Abe threw an arm across Harley’s shoulders and shoved him gently forward, his larger body blocking the sun from Harley as they walked.

  “I’m heading west toward Whitehorse.” Abe’s deep voice boomed over the rattle of plates and the chatter of the other diners. “Got room in the cab for one more, if you need a ride.”

  Harley watched the smile melt away from the vampire’s face and he felt like a drowning man thrown a rope from shore. He opened his mouth to answer, but surprised himself when nothing came out but a shaky breath.

  “Leaving in about fifteen seconds so make up your mind damn quick, son.” This time Abe’s voice was firm and insistent, like a father making a suggestion to a child, but actually expecting it to be taken as the order it really was.

  “Yeah. Okay.” Harley licked his lips, unable to break his gaze away from the doorway killer’s vengeful, burning stare. “I could go west.”

  The gray sunlight slid further into the room and Harley felt a surge of panic compete with dread. Both wanted to be the cause of the headache threatening to crush through his head. The pressure the other vamp had applied to his healing, still fragile skull had been almost enough to drop him to his knees earlier. Its lingering affects made him dizzy and his reactions slow. “For a little while. West would work.”