Fury Calls

by Caridad Piñeiro

  “We need to get Ryder and Diego,” she said as she raced back toward the restaurant.

  “That’s right. Call in the cavalry, ’cause there’s no hero here,” he muttered to no one. Then he rose and searched out the area around the garbage cans.

  The slightest scent, like some kind of spice, teased his nose as he walked away from the garbage cans and toward where the alley opened onto the street. At that opening, he sniffed deeply, smelling the scent again, but he couldn’t recognize the aroma.

  Peering from one end of the street to the other, he searched for anything out of the ordinary or the source of that aroma, but there was nothing in sight. Whatever had savaged the dead vampire was obviously long gone.

  He headed back toward the restaurant, sparing but a glance at the body as he passed.

  Whatever had done this killing had been one major nasty, he decided.

  “So you say you saw—”

  “Something big and white-haired hopping away,” Blake finished. “Hippity hop, like the Easter Bunny.”

  Diego glared at him and then glanced at Meghan.

  She shrugged. “I didn’t see it.”

  “Did you hear or feel anything out of the ordinary?” Ryder asked, laying a hand on her shoulder in order to comfort her.

  Meghan hadn’t been able to forget the feeling from the night the two vampires had killed each other. That preternatural pulse that had beat against her vampire senses had indelibly registered in her brain. She hadn’t felt anything like that energy until they had been right on top of the body. Then there had been the remnant of…evil. Slimy, like an oil slick against a pristine shore.

  “I felt…something wicked, but not supernatural wicked, I don’t think. Mortal malevolence maybe, but that doesn’t make sense, does it? This was a vampire attack, right?”

  Ryder dropped his hand from her shoulder, paced back and forth for a moment before facing Blake. “Neither of you fed from this vampire?”

  “Not a drop left in the poor sod.”

  Diego shook his head. It was clear he had been ripped from either rest or something more pleasurable. His shirt was wrinkled and didn’t quite match the pants he wore. Diego was always sartorially splendid, and Meghan suspected that he and his lover, Ramona, had been otherwise engaged when she had called him.

  “Diego?” she prompted now, growing concerned that neither of the older vampires nor Blake seemed to have a clue as to what had happened to the dead vampire in the alley.

  Blake clearly sensed her upset. He had taken no action to calm her, sensing she might rebuff any overture he made. He had been standing across the way from her, sandwiched between the two other men, almost as if they wanted to keep him from her. He finally stepped from between them and came to her side. Touching her forearm tentatively, he said, “Don’t worry, love. We’ll figure out what nasty did this.”

  Meghan thought about the rumors that another, stronger demon had been responsible for causing the earlier deaths. “Could it have been the same demon that made those two vamps feed to death?” she asked.

  “Unlikely,” he said, and Ryder and Diego echoed those sentiments.

  “This killing is distinct, Meghan,” Diego offered.

  Ryder jumped in with “Different M.O.”

  Blake chuckled. “Little woman is rubbing off on you, Ryder. Maybe you could get her to give us some FBI assistance.”

  Hesitation crept into Ryder’s features and his body grew taut with irritation. Meghan wondered at his anger, but then Blake quickly added, “No joke, Ryder. Diana has the kind of experience we need around here.”

  Diego surged forward and got right into Blake’s face. “There is no ‘we’ around here. It’s us and you.”

  “Right. Sorry, mate. Forgot I’m just the hired help, but thanks for setting me straight. Seeing that you don’t need me anymore…” He shot her a quick, pained look before sauntering off with a cocky bounce in his step, but she recognized he was forcing it for the benefit of the two older vampires.

  As he neared the door, he tossed out over his shoulder, “I’m feeling a might peckish. I’m going to go grab a bite somewhere that understands our kind.”

  With that he surged out the door and was gone from sight even before the door could close behind him.

  Meghan advanced on Diego as soon as Blake had vanished into the night. She didn’t much care for Blake, but she also didn’t like to see anyone abused. “That was mean.”

  He arched one tawny brow. “Mean? He’s lucky I didn’t rip his throat out when—”

  “He gave up Esperanza to that scientist creep? You seem to forget that I was the one who gave that creep the info about your lair and that Blake was the one who helped save us.”

  Shoving her hands onto her hips, she pivoted to face Ryder. “And what’s so crazy about his suggestion that Diana help us? She is Little Miss Save the World, isn’t she?”

  Ryder’s stance grew even more rigid. Nearly every muscle in his body tightened and from the slight bleed of neon vamp color into his eyes, she realized he was royally pissed off. With a low growl in his voice from the emerging vampire, he said, “Diana is…She doesn’t need the pressure of this right now.”

  Did he think that she couldn’t physically handle the strain? Meghan thought.

  Facing the two men, arms still akimbo, she asked, “So we’ve got three dead vampires and an Evil Energizer Bunny running around, according to Blake. What do you suppose we should do about that?”

  Diego quickly answered, “Ryder and I will consider what we should do next.”

  She was being dismissed. It didn’t sit any better with her than it had with Blake. “I understand, Diego. It’s you and then it’s just me.”

  She didn’t wait for his reply. She was a mite peckish too, she thought with a chuckle, and sped out the door into the night.

  Chapter 8

  Normally Meghan would feed once she got back to the posh Upper West Side apartment Diego had loaned her after he had moved to his lover’s downtown digs. While under his protection in her early vampire years, Meghan had lived in one of his guest rooms, but with his absence, he had given her full run of the place and was generous enough to still occasionally stock the fridge there with a fresh supply of blood bags.

  She had no desire to feed alone tonight.

  The sense of satisfaction she had felt in the kitchen earlier had fled, giving rise to the sadness that had lurked there as well.

  Sadness about the undead state of her life and the loneliness that came with it. Vampires didn’t normally form many close relationships. She was lucky to have fallen in with those who did, although even then the friendships were inevitably tinged with power struggles. It was just a vampire’s way.

  Much like it was a vampire’s way to hunt and feed.

  She didn’t much care for it. Hated it, in fact. So instead she chose to visit the Blood Bank for a nip of something fresher, as she suspected Blake had done.

  As she flashed some fang to the bouncer at the door and strolled into the club, she realized that little had changed in the years since her last visit. She then realized Blake was sitting at the same spot where she had first seen him: at the end of the bar, his blond hair a glaring anomaly amongst the darkness in the club. It dragged up painful memories and anger, but she forced down those emotions.

  She had been angry for so long. Maybe far too long, she considered, feeling the weight of loneliness pressing down on her. She sensed that if only for a moment, the man sitting at the end of the bar could bring a smile.

  She approached where he sat, shuffling an empty glass from hand to hand, much as he had been doing almost four years earlier when he had first caught her eye.

  With barely a glance in her direction, he mumbled, “Slumming it, princess?”

  “I’m sorry about what happened before.” She plopped herself down on the empty bar stool beside him.

  “No reason for you to apologize. You didn’t do anything.” He picked up his hand and motioned for
the bartender, who glared at him until Blake reached into his pocket and tossed some cash on the counter.

  Some things never change, she thought, but then quickly regretted the thought. Blake had changed, or at least he was trying to, as much as she didn’t want to acknowledge that. It would be easier to keep on hating him if she didn’t.

  “Maybe not doing anything is enough to apologize for,” she said as she grabbed Blake’s money and handed it back to him. Reaching into the pocket of the denim jacket she wore, she pulled out some cash and laid a twenty on the bar. “My treat.”

  “There’s no treat in drinking alone,” he challenged, and as the bartender came over, he took the liberty of ordering. “Two O negs. Freshest that you have.”

  Meghan didn’t particularly like satisfying her hunger in public, but the last thing she wanted was to go into one of the back rooms to feed. She was sure she couldn’t handle that. Even returning to the club had been difficult.

  As they waited for the bartender, Blake swiveled toward her on his bar stool. “If there’s anywhere we might get information on the roadkill we found earlier tonight, this is the place.”

  “So it wasn’t just ’cause you were peckish,” she teased.

  When the bartender brought over the tumblers filled with warm blood, Blake picked up his glass and took a sip, showing a reserve she couldn’t muster. She was just too hungry. With a large gulp, she sucked down a good amount of the blood and immediately experienced the rush of its power through her body.

  “Easy, love. This is heady stuff. You don’t want to lose control,” Blake said in low tones intended for only her ears.

  Meghan sucked in a breath and mustered the composure necessary to suppress the demon that wanted to escape now that she’d had a taste of the blood.

  Blake smiled and nodded his approval. He could feel her demon calling to his, rousing his desire to share their demons’ passion. Shoving away his own vampire, he motioned to a spot across the way where Foley was chatting with a stranger in a too-familiar way. As the stranger—an extremely attractive Asian man—passed a hand across Foley’s face in a gesture more common to lovers, he said, “Seems like our Foley is playing both sides of the field.”

  Meghan tracked his gaze. Her eyebrows narrowed as she considered the two men and their intimate pose. “Foley never set off my gaydar.”

  “Mine either, which makes me wonder who that is.”

  He drained his glass and slammed it on the counter. Then he jumped off the bar stool and quickly strode across the length of the room, weaving his way through those on the dance floor, Meghan close behind him. When he neared the two men, he sensed the thrum of undead power, but it was an unfamiliar kind of energy. Off somehow. Threatening just by virtue of its oddity.

  Instead of proceeding closer, he stopped, quickly turned and slipped his arm around Meghan’s waist, surprising her although she seemed to know better than to make a scene. He urged her into a slow dance, one hand braced against the small of her back.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed in his ear, her body tight against his until he relaxed his hold and she put a little distance between them.

  “There’s something not right about Foley’s Asian friend,” he said, shifting to get a better view as they danced.

  “I don’t feel—”

  “Close your eyes and release your vampire, but only a little,” he urged and surprisingly, she did as he asked.

  She closed her eyes and the power of her vampire grew, enveloping him in its force due to their proximity. As the spill of her energy intensified, he eased her closer until their bodies were pressed together and their energies merged thanks to his blood flowing in her veins.

  At the press of his body against hers, Meghan moaned and opened her eyes. The deep emerald color had disappeared, and they now glowed with the brilliant brightness of the vampire.

  “Blake, I don’t want this,” she protested, a rumble from low in her throat tightening his body with desire.

  “Do you think I want to feel this way about someone who hates me?” he said, but despite his words, he pressed one hand against the small of her back. Laying the side of his face on hers, he cradled her head, his movements as gentle as he could make them, aware that her feelings for him were always on the edge of anger and a wrong move could doom the moment.

  With the music still slow and beating, with a bass sound that vibrated through their bodies, he invited her into the dance, shifting his feet. His hips joined to hers, urging her to move in time. He took care in the way his hands slowly relaxed their hold and the way a stroke against her back became a caress against the damp skin where her shirt had ridden upward.

  The rumble came again from deep within her, and she bent her head to his neck. He felt the graze of her teeth there, and a ripple of longing shot through his body before she slowly pulled away.

  “This is crazy,” she said, clearly battling her own need.

  “Is it, love? Don’t you remember how good it was?”

  “Was it? Hard to remember since I ended up dead,” she said, and ripped from his arms. She raced off before he could stop her, but he knew one thing even as she did so.

  She remembered just how good and bad it had been.

  Chapter 9

  Meghan hadn’t known what to expect of Blake the morning after their brief encounter at the Blood Bank. A part of her wanted to lash out at him and vent her rage and frustration so that she could drive from her mind just how good it had felt to be in his arms. How she had wanted so much more but had also wanted to take a bite out of him as payback. The desire only served to remind her that after nearly four years, her emotions about Blake were as confused as they ever had been.

  Luckily, Blake chose to keep his distance, although she was certain that he wasn’t ignoring her. With every move she made in the kitchen she sensed his attention on her even as he completed the assortment of tasks he had been given that night. An assortment of crap tasks that indicated Diego and Ryder were still not pleased with him.

  The day passed slowly, filled as it was with confusion about Blake but also with concern about what had been happening at Otro Mundo lately. Three dead vamps in just over two weeks was not a good thing. As she occasionally connected with one of the other vampires working in the kitchen, she sensed their discomfort, as well. Word was getting around about the incidents, and she worried how that was going to affect the restaurant.

  Diego had also been preoccupied that afternoon, but not just about the business. After catching a series of looks between her and Blake, he had come over to warn her against him. Although she appreciated Diego’s protection and concern, whatever happened between her and Blake was none of his business.

  The drag of emotion during the course of the long day tired her, making her grateful for the last seating of the night. She had finished her final order and was getting ready to fix the food for the closing staff when Diego entered the kitchen, an even more troubled look on his face.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, as he approached her.

  “There’s a patron out front who would like to compliment you on his meal.”

  Never a bad thing in the cooking world, which didn’t quite mesh with Diego’s appearance. “Why so glum, then? Unless of course he’s the owner of a competing restaurant and wants to spirit me away.”

  Diego laughed as she had intended, but then grew serious once again. “I don’t think he is, but what he is…He’s undead, although I’ve never met any of his kind before.”

  “His kind?” She wiped her hands on her soiled apron before removing it to reveal the pristine white chef’s jacket beneath. It was important to make a good appearance before the public—even the undead ones.

  “A Chinese vampire—a kiang-shi,” he explained, even as he was placing a hand at the small of her back and walking with her out to the main floor of the restaurant. As she entered, she experienced the slimy odd energy from the night before as well as a very strong pulse of immortal power.r />
  Looking toward the source of that energy, she noticed Stacia at one of the tables beside a human who, judging from her engaging posture, was going to be Stacia’s dessert. As their gazes collided, the vampire elder smiled at her, lips full and painted a deep red that just made her pale skin even more pronounced. As was her bent, Stacia was dressed from head to toe in form-fitting black, which just accentuated the pallor of her skin and the lethal curves of her body.

  Meghan had met the vampire elder two years ago, but didn’t much care for her. Stacia seemed to take whatever she wanted whenever she wanted—including an assortment of men.

  Rumor had it that Blake had recently been added to her list of conquests—a rumor Meghan tried avoiding, lest she experience any more jealousy about a vampire whom she regularly wished was dead.

  The meal was excellent came into her head, and she acknowledged Stacia’s unspoken compliment with a nod as she continued walking.

  Diego guided her toward a table at the opposite side of the restaurant. The force of the odd power grew more potent as they neared a table of four, one of whom she recognized as the Asian man from the night before. He was surrounded by a trio of women, each one as different as the next.

  A statuesque African-American woman sat beside a petite and doll-like blonde. They leaned toward one another, exchanged a comment and laughed in unison with a disturbing trill. To the other side of the handsome Asian was an Asian woman, beautiful but with a distant expression on her face that left her looking cold. Almost vacant.

  His harem, she thought, but forced a smile to her face as he met her gaze.

  He was stunning, she would give him that. The planes of his face were broad, but it served to highlight his intense, brown, almond-shaped eyes and the fullness of his lips. When he rose as she approached, she sucked in a breath at the height and strength of him. He was easily six foot two or three, with thick, powerful shoulders and lean hips. The elegant silk suit he wore emphasized his physique, and the almond color of his shirt warmed the color of his skin to a luscious vanilla-cream hue. Dark, thick hair was raked ruthlessly back from that exotic face.