by Sierra Dean
Felicia had been speaking, but lost in thought, Holden missed most of it.
“What’s a rogue?” she asked, giving him a place to jump in. She was holding her coffee cup with both hands, as though trying to absorb its warmth through her palms. Compared to the confident, poised woman he’d met at the gallery, she seemed much younger now.
“Vampires exist under a specific set of laws. We have a governing body called the Tribunal that determines the best course of action to keep human beings from finding out we exist, and of course their immediate need to kill us all once they learn the truth. For the most part, vampires abide by those laws, because they are what helps us survive.”
“For the most part.”
“There are vampires out there who believe we were better off before the laws. Those who think because we’re stronger and live longer that we are better. They forget we were all once humans, too, and are far more interested in killing than they are with blending in.”
“Rogues?”
Holden nodded. “Usually it’s baby vamps.”
“Babies?” Her eyes widened with horror and he realized she thought he meant the word literally.
“Sorry. I should clarify. Baby vampires are the newly undead. Those freshly turned who don’t know better. In those cases we can sometimes straighten them up before they take things too far.”
“And if you can’t?”
“We have people who will deal with them.” He jerked his chin at her. “People like you. Non-vampires with great ability who take care of them for us.”
Up until that moment he hadn’t considered bringing Felicia to the Tribunal. But the longer he sat with her, the more he came to like the idea. She was too green for it right now. Juan Carlos would laugh him out of the room before Sig and Daria could politely say no. But with a little training and some better knowledge of what she was up against, she might become a suitable bounty hunter for the Tribunal.
“Did you know what I was when you saw me at the gallery?” He poured some cream into his coffee so he could watch the white clouds billow up in the black liquid. Simple pleasures didn’t end just because he didn’t like to drink the stuff anymore. He still enjoyed the sights and smells of it. Cream had been a luxury he once couldn’t afford in his life.
Felicia glanced out the window, not answering him immediately. Information was sometimes the only currency a person had, and he could tell she wasn’t sure if she wanted to give in yet. At last she made up her mind and looked back at him. “Yeah, I did.”
“Did you know because someone told you?”
Her brows knit together in an adorable look of consternation He’d offended her. Thirty minutes earlier she had jammed a knife between his ribs, yet here he was offending her. The world could be a funny thing.
“I just knew, okay?”
Nice try, but no. “Not good enough. Tell me how you knew.”
Felicia sighed and sat back in the booth seat, staring out the window once again. A fine film of grease had turned the glass opaque, causing the bright lights beyond to blur.
“It’s your skin.”
“Because I’m pale?” He snorted, shaking his head. “A lot of people are pale. I’m not exactly white as the driven snow, here.”
Felicia sipped her coffee and smiled at him. Something about the expression made him think she was laughing at him rather than actually showing happiness. “Yes, you’re pale, but that’s not it.” She traced her fingernail along her throat. “You were hungry. You wanted to feed.”
“And?” He was interested now. He’d never known he had a hunger tell, some visible sign he was on the hunt for a meal. If there was something he was doing, it would be a smart thing to correct.
“Your veins. I’ve noticed when vampires haven’t fed, their veins start to bulge.”
Holden’s hand lifted to mirror hers, and he touched his throat. Sure enough, the skin felt thinner, and the veins stood out markedly.
Felicia went on. “I think it’s an aging thing. The same thing happens to the veins of the elderly. Your bodies start to age more rapidly when you don’t eat, like you’re going to decompose.”
Having seen what happened to vampires who were denied food, Holden could attest she wasn’t far off. But how could she make that kind of assumption?
His expression must have given away what he was thinking because she gave a half shrug and let her hand drop to the table. “I used to be a nurse. Once. I know a thing or two about how the body is supposed to work.”
“So you’ve seen enough vampires you can recognize them on sight, but I’m the first one you’ve ever confronted.”
Her silence was all the confirmation he needed.
“Why me?”
“Honestly?”
“I think we’re past the point of polite lies, don’t you?”
She nodded. “You didn’t seem all that tough.”
Whatever answer he’d been expecting from her, this wasn’t it. He hadn’t known what he thought she would say, but you didn’t seem all that tough wasn’t even in his top-ten list of potentials.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re pretty. You hang around art galleries and wear Armani.”
“Let me guess, the guy who killed your sister was some monstrous former biker who was about seven feet tall and weighed three fifty?” Holden snorted and ignored how uncomfortable the topic made her. “Not tough. Now I’ve heard everything.”
Felicia blushed. “If it makes you feel any better, clearly I was wrong.”
“I think it’s safe to say you’ve got a lot of things wrong, little one.” Holden slid out of the booth and tossed a twenty on the table.
“Wait, where are you going?” Felicia’s embarrassment melted into panic. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you were going to tell me more about vampires.” Her tone dropped low at the end, so the last word was almost a whisper.
“I don’t think talking is going to help you.”
“But—”
“I’m going to have to show you.”
Chapter Three
Bold splashes of color crisscrossed the entirety of the subway platform at Canal Street, creating an oppressive wall of tags that loomed over Holden and Felicia as they waited for the train.
Felicia had her arms wrapped nervously around her middle, and Holden could tell his presence wasn’t doing anything to soothe her. This late at night it didn’t matter where in the city they were, the subways were unsafe. Especially for a beautiful young woman wearing an expensive dress.
Holden’s own attire would be an invitation for trouble, if he hadn’t undone his coat to expose his bloodied midsection. Now, instead of an upper-class couple with no sense of self-preservation, he looked like a serial killer in a nice suit leading his next victim to certain death.
Somehow that was the better of two options.
Metal crashed against concrete somewhere nearby, and Felicia jumped.
“Try to relax.”
She shot him a withering glare. “Try to relax,” she snipped back. “Easy thing to say when you’re immortal and have superhuman strength.”
“And yet you thought I wasn’t tough enough.” He smirked at her and stuffed his hands into his pockets. On the other side of the platform a young kid with stringy blond hair and filthy clothes was watching them hungrily. Holden knew what they represented to him: money, another fix, easy prey.
It was how Holden eyed up girls at Studio 54 during its heyday. Those girls had tasted like sex and stardust, the human incarnation of champagne bubbles. God bless them.
The street kid was eying the distance between them, trying to decide if it was worth it to make the trip around to them before the next train arrived. Felicia had noticed their observer as well, and was fidgeting more than before.
“Stop,” Holden warned. “It makes you look like prey.”
Felicia froze, immediately halting her uneasy swaying. She relaxed her arms and straightened her posture, and suddenly looked like s
omeone not to be messed with. She was still trembling, but no one else would notice if they weren’t right next to her.
Squealing brakes and a faint rumble announced the arrival of an incoming Northbound 1 train. Holden gave the kid a smug flip of the bird, and the punk bared blackened teeth at him.
Not having to feed off that guttersnipe was the best thing to happen to Holden’s night since he’d left the gallery. Heroin wasn’t the party it was cracked up to be once it hit the blood. It tasted of paint thinner and dead-eyed reality. There was no joy in it whatsoever.
With a hand on the small of her back, Holden guided Felicia onto the closest subway car, and the doors sighed closed behind him. The interior of the car was layered with more spray-painted tags and obscene drawings, and the air was thick with the stench of cigarette smoke and urine.
Holden wasn’t a fan of small spaces like this. He hated the reminder of how disgusting human beings were capable of being.
Felicia glanced at the empty seats around them and seemed to think better of sitting in any of them. The pungent odor of human waste might have come from anywhere, and standing felt a lot cleaner than taking the risk. It turned out she was as much of a snob about these things as he was.
The only other passenger in the car with them was an elderly black man with a patchy gray beard. His unfocused eyes were milky white, and he stared at the opposite wall without acknowledging he knew they were there.
“What’s the genius plan, here?” Felicia asked. “You going to take me to the end of the line and see if I can make it home in one piece or something?”
“I’m disappointed I didn’t think of that. But no. I’ve got a different idea. I want to see if you have what it takes to work for the Tribunal. And you wanted to get your hands dirty tonight and kill some vampires. So we’re both going to get what we want.”
Her cheeks went pale, and she swallowed hard. Her pulse was hammering with such ferocious intensity he could taste her fear in the back of his throat, and it excited him. Why couldn’t she have just been a quick-and-dirty feed in a back alley somewhere? This hadn’t been how he’d envisioned his night going, but now that he was in the thick of it, he might as well see things through. He had it on good authority the council was down a bounty hunter right now, so bringing them someone he’d seen in action might help him in his lowly warden position.
Recruiting a new hunter might not elevate him to sentry, but it would help the council remember he existed.
“Where are we going, then?”
“Harlem.”
Felicia’s lips tightened into a thin frown, and she shot him an unfriendly glare. She was really good at those. She also didn’t appear to be frightened of him anymore, which he couldn’t decide if he liked or not. In this game, it didn’t hurt to be a little afraid of the things that could kill you.
“And what, pray tell, are we going to Harlem for?”
“Jazz?” He grinned broadly.
The subway lurched, tossing Felicia into him. She braced her hand against his chest to steady herself, and that instant, that one touch, electrified him. There was nothing sexual about it, yet he felt it right into his core, making him awake and alive, like every one of his senses was totally alert.
You’re just hungry, he told himself, as if that might explain what he was feeling. But it didn’t, not in a satisfactory way. He was feeling something for this girl that had nothing to do with a desire to feed. Why else was he out here helping her? Why did he care so much what became of a girl he’d only known a couple of hours?
“I’m taking you hunting,” he admitted, when his smooth jazz line didn’t work.
“Hunting?”
He nodded, offering her another smile. “The 145th Street Station is a hotbed for rogues. Enough so commuters don’t bother to use it at night. We’re going to stop there, and you’re going to kill something.”
Felicia darted a nervous glance to the old man at the other end of the train. His milky-white eyes were closed now, and the way his head bobbed and his breathing had gone shallow were sure signs he’d nodded off. Holden wasn’t all too worried about him hearing them in the first place.
“Are you out of your mind?” She pushed herself away from him, but her fingers lingered for a moment, toying with one of his buttons before she let go. “I don’t have any weapons. I don’t know what we’re up against. I’ve never killed one vampire, let alone a whole subway station of them.” Her pulse was going wild now, and it was hard to tell if she was more scared or excited.
“A hunter is defined by her ability, not by the weapon she uses.”
“Easy for you to say when you can kill someone by biting them.”
“That’s not altogether accurate.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “I weigh, like, a hundred and twenty pounds. A vampire is going to knock me on my ass in less than a second if I don’t have a weapon.”
“A weapon didn’t do you much good when it came to me, did it. And I’m not even tough.” Okay, maybe that line had bothered him more than he thought.
“Holden…”
“Felicia.”
“Do you want me to die? Is this some weird way for you to get revenge on me for stabbing you? Take me out to Vamp Central Station and toss me to the wolves?” She was speaking faster, too fast. Clearly fear was winning over excitement.
“Darling, I wouldn’t dream of tossing you to the wolves. Those filthy mongrels would give you rabies.” He smirked at her confused expression, but his statement had done the job of calming her down. Evidently werewolves were good for something.
He placed a hand on her shoulder and was struck by the same electric thrill as when she’d touched him before. “I’m not trying to kill you. If things go south, I’ll be there to help you, understand? It’s hunting time for them right now. Most of the rogues will be out of the nest. You’ll have two or three tops to take out.”
“Two or three.” She laughed nervously. “I’ve never even taken out one.”
“Then it will be a good night for your scorecard.”
Felicia smacked him.
“See, you’re already getting the hang of it,” he announced.
The train jostled along, and for a few tense moments neither of them spoke. Holden wondered whether or not he was making a sensible decision by dragging her out all this way. It wasn’t her safety he was concerned about. If push came to shove, he’d be able to get her out alive. But was he putting too much pressure on her simply because he wanted her to be a hunter? She had a bit of natural skill, but she’d already failed in a relatively easy close-contact fight where she had the element of surprise on her side. The vampires they came up against at the 145th Street Station wouldn’t play fair. They would fight to kill. Was she really ready to fight for her life?
“Do you know how to kill a vampire?” he asked.
“Destroy the heart. Cut off the head.”
Good, she wasn’t hopeless. “And do you have some idea of how hard it is to cut off a head?”
Felicia lifted one brow to him as if to say, Do I look like I was born yesterday?
“Just asking.”
“I was a nurse, remember? I know a thing or two about human anatomy.” She waited for him to say something and when he didn’t she said, “Go for the heart, then?” She touched her own chest thoughtfully, and his gaze followed the movement. He swallowed hard and struggled to look at her face again. This woman was knocking him off-kilter, and he didn’t like it. Typically he had total control over his emotions, and that was the way he felt comfortable. This new feeling was…well, to be honest it was nice, but totally out of place and unwelcome.
Holden reached into the pocket of his coat and handed her what he’d been hiding.
Felicia took the item from him and let out a scoffing laugh. “You want me to hunt vampires with a steak knife?”
“A good hunter wouldn’t even need that. But you’re new, so I’m giving you an advantage.” He offered her his most charming smile.
&n
bsp; “Where did you get this?”
“I stole it from the diner.”
She stared at the blade a little longer. It was a surprisingly decent knife considering where it had come from. The blade was heavy, with a serrated edge and a sharp tip. It could probably crack a sternum with a bit of effort. If she could see the potential in a simple weapon like this, there was a chance she could pull this whole thing off.
Her pulse thumped against the taut skin of her neck. Holden licked his dry lips, suddenly very aware of how long it had been since he’d fed and what his original intentions for her that evening had been. Swallowing hard, he pushed the thoughts aside. There would be plenty of time to eat when this was all over. He’d just need to wait.
The train squealed to a stop and the door slid open, presenting them with an empty, darkened subway platform.
Holden swept his arm towards the exit. “Ladies first.”
Chapter Four
The overhead lights flickered on and off, the filaments pinging loudly, like moths battering their bodies against the bulbs. Spray paint was so densely clustered on the walls it was hard to discern one tag from another. The effect made the platform look like something out of a bad adventure through Wonderland, if Lewis Carroll had smoked a lot of crack.
A loud hiss announced the close of the subway car door, and the train sped off, leaving them to their uncertain fate.
At least the air here was cleaner smelling than on the train. The stink of urine was replaced with something more pungent and metallic. Blood. Holden hoped Felicia wouldn’t be able to pick up on it.
Telltale signs were all around that they’d walked headfirst into a vampire den, but it was nothing the average human would notice. The platform was meticulously clean, not a sign of garbage anywhere. So, too, the lack of urine smell was an indicator. No vampire would want to live with that stench, considering their heightened senses. It would be unbearable.
A large stack of clothing in one corner was the only debris present anywhere in the station. To the casual observer it might look like the remnants of a homeless person’s collection, but Holden knew better. Those clothes represented something far more sinister.