by Laken Cane
Table of Contents
Prologue
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Part Two
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Part Three
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Bloodhunter
By Laken Cane
Copyright © 2018 Laken Cane
All rights reserved.
For more information about the author, you can find her online at
www.lakencane.com,
www.facebook.com/laken.cane.3
Dedications and Acknowledgments
My thanks to Dave Huff for giving one of my hunters his shotgun, for tirelessly answering my many questions about these and other weapons, and for never once calling me a pesky writer.
This book is for my sweet friend Raeven. She is missed by her crew.
From the Author
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Enjoy the book, and please remember to leave a review when you’re finished!
Table of Contents
Dedications and Acknowledgments
From the Author
Prologue
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Part Two
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Part Three
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
About Laken Cane
Prologue
She moaned with relief as the cold, silent air caressed her face. It’d been so hot in her sister’s crowded little house. Hot and loud and bright.
She took a deep breath of the brisk night air, then walked carefully down the icy walk as she dug her keys from her purse.
She had her hand wrapped around them when suddenly she stopped walking, tilted her head, and listened. Her breath turned frosty, sending out plumes of white as she paused, concentrating on whatever it was that had made the back of her neck itch. From inside the house the muffled sound of laughter reached her ears.
She couldn’t have said what made her pause and glance back over her shoulder. Something. Some tiny noise, or furtive movement, or more likely, just one of the feelings she sometimes got when something was off. One of the first things she’d been taught in self-defense class was the importance of trusting her intuition.
The streetlights lit the snow-covered pavement and the cars that lined it. It was eerily still, but in the silent darkness she felt…something.
Something that didn’t belong there.
She became aware of sirens screaming in the distance, a sound she acknowledged and then discarded as she concentrated on what might have made her hesitate.
The fine hairs on her arms stiffened and she shivered, frozen. She couldn’t decide whether to ignore the feeling or to rush back inside and ask someone to escort her to her car.
But they’d have laughed at her. Little Trinity, scared of her own shadow. Afraid to walk across the street.
She became aware of the sirens again. They were louder, more intense. Closer, but still distant.
“I’m being silly,” she muttered. She’d walked out of her sister’s house dozens of times. She’d parked on dark streets, walked to her car, stood on porches talking with neighbors. She’d never been afraid in that neighborhood.
Embarrassed, she glanced at the windows of the house, then tightened her grip on her keys, lifted her chin, and walked resolutely on.
Her heels clacking on the pavement was the only sound as she hurried across the empty street to her tiny blue Honda.
She clicked the remote on her keychain, unlocking the car. The engine cranked to life, a comforting and familiar sound in the cold silence.
And the feeling of fear roared back to life with the car engine. She ran the last few steps to the car and yanked open the door.
She had to get inside that car. She’d be safe then, safe from whatever bad thing lurked in the shadows, waiting to grab her.
Chills raced over her body, gooseflesh pebbled her skin, and in that second, she could feel phantom hands grabbing her by the back of her neck.
Only they weren’t phantom hands, suddenly, and the block of ice in her throat cut off her terrified scream.
He whirled her around and then slammed her back against the car. His eyes were black and wide, and as though he were unable to control them, his teeth elongated into fangs, shortened, then elongated again. He snapped his mouth shut, but she’d seen. The point of his fangs looked sharp and somehow cold, like miniature icicles.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
He was…injured. Strips of bloodless flesh hung from his naked body, and cuts, wide and jagged, decorated his face.
She gaped at him, too shocked and horrified, for a second, to remember to be afraid.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said again, his voice barely loud enough for her t
o hear. Still, it scraped across her brain, that voice, that need. “It is a bad night for little humans.”
“You’re a…”
She didn’t say the word, but she didn’t need to. It echoed inside her mind, over and over and over, and she understood one very important thing at that moment.
She was in trouble.
Her breath left her lungs in pants and gasps, and her stomach clenched and tossed in turns—she wanted to throw up but her stomach was so tight it refused to release its contents.
She’d never once in her eighteen years held a conversation with a vampire. Not that she was aware of, anyway. They lived—and hid—amongst the humans, survived in the darkness, feasted on the homeless, the forgotten, the broken, and animals when they were forced to.
Her legs gave out and she dropped to the hard pavement, the exhaust from the car mixing with the scent of his agony. And despite his weakness, his obvious pain, his near death status, he encircled her upper arms with a strong grip and hoisted her up off the ground.
When she sagged against her car, he held her there effortlessly, and put his face level with hers. “I am dying.” And in his eyes was such agony and hopelessness that she had to look away.
“What can I do?” Her words came out thick and garbled. “I can’t…” She realized her palms were against his cold, hard chest, bloodless and dry and dead like the cat she’d been given in anatomy class to dissect. She snatched her hands off his body and rubbed them on her coat. “I mean…”
The vampire slid to the ground, his head hitting the car with a painful-sounding thump.
She should have bolted. She knew she should have. But she’d always been a soft touch, a romantic, a bleeding heart. And she wanted to save her very first vampire.
He was a vampire, and he was asking her for help.
It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t human.
She didn’t like seeing anyone mistreated or in pain—not even vampires, apparently.
As injured as he was, he’d be almost human slow. Human sick. He couldn’t hurt her.
His damage was too severe.
He sat on the cold, wet pavement, and for a brief second, the light blinked and went out of his dark eyes. Then it was back, dimly, and he smiled. “Shall I live, or shall I die?”
Her choice. Her decision.
Or maybe he wasn’t even asking her. Maybe he was asking himself.
She pulled away from him, and he didn’t try to stop her. He dropped his head and sighed, his hand to his chest.
She shut off the engine, then slammed the door shut, her heart hammering. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket.
Maybe she should have rushed back into her sister’s house, called the police, and watched from behind the safety of the window glass as he was hauled away.
But she didn’t. “Linda,” she said, urgently, when her sister answered. “I need help.”
Immediate panic lit her sister’s voice. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“I’m outside. There’s a…a very injured vampire at my car. He needs our help.”
“Oh my God,” Linda cried, and in the next second, she and everyone else in the house came pouring through the doorway.
“Trin,” Linda yelled. “Trin!”
“I’m here.” Trinity let her coat slide from her shoulders and handed it to the vampire. “Put this on. We’ll help you.”
She caught sight of her sister’s pale face and wide eyes as her family, stuffed full of Thanksgiving food, milled around her and the downed vampire.
“Linda!” Trinity reached for her sister. “We need help.”
Linda held out her hands but didn’t move forward. “Oh my God, Trin! What’s happening?”
“He’s…” Trinity gestured helplessly at the vampire. “He’s badly hurt.”
They all stood frozen, for one heartbeat, then Derek yanked his cell from his pocket. “Chad, get my gun. Bedroom closet. Top shelf. I’m calling the cops.”
“No,” she cried. “You can’t.”
Derek narrowed his eyes. “Why not, Trin?”
“They’ll kill him. You know they will. He’s too injured to hurt anyone. We have to help him.”
The vampire shivered, clutched his stomach, and then a low, tormented growl slid past his cracked lips.
He opened his mouth, deliberately showing them his fangs, which were once again elongating and then retracting, over and over, with a small clicking sound like they were popping through thick plastic.
“Trinity,” Linda yelled, “Get in the house. Get in the house!”
Derek grabbed Linda’s arm and stepped back. “I’m calling the fucking cops.” And once more, he lifted his phone.
“Wait,” Trinity begged, as it all began to spin out of control. “Just wait.”
But fear spread through them like a fire that had caught the curtains. Panic followed. The littler kids began to cry and their mothers snatched them up and backed away, some turning to run for the house.
Trinity put her cold hands to her hot cheeks, then turned to the vampire she’d tried to save. “We should go. I’ll drive you somewhere safe.” She put her hand on his arm. “Please. Come with me.”
He turned his head slowly to look at her, silent.
Chad returned with the gun, and when he hesitated, Derek yanked the weapon from his grip and turned it on the vampire. “In the house,” he told his family. “Get in the house. Now.”
The vampire smiled, and that smile shocked Trinity to her toes. It wasn’t the smile of an injured man needing sanctuary. It was the smile of madness. It was the smile of hunger.
Derek pulled the trigger and the bullet ripped through the vampire’s head. He didn’t appear to notice as half his face was blown off.
“I made a mistake,” she realized.
“I’m afraid so,” the vampire said gently, and suddenly he wasn’t the only vampire there.
As though he’d silently beckoned them, dozens of vampires, reeking of death and disease, raced from the shadows. And they went after her family.
“Hungry,” one of them screamed. “So hungry!”
Her family shrieked and scattered, but it was too late.
He and his vampires killed them. Killed them all.
Except for her.
She lay seizing on the street, blood spilling from dozens of bites, and as police sirens screamed through the night, he slipped away, leaving her alive.
And that was his mistake.
Part One
Chapter One
Amias Sato landed on the hood of my car with a violent unexpectedness that jerked a startled scream from me two seconds before I leapt from the car and went after him.
Despite the pain the attempt would cause me, I went after him.
I held a stake in either hand, barely aware I’d pulled them from my belt. Amias slipped away, so fast, like dark water sliding through my desperate grip.
I caught a glimpse of his eyes before he disappeared into the night. Eyes as familiar to me as my own. I saw them every night in my dreams.
My nightmares.
The hatred and the desire to kill him twisted with physical pain and became almost too much for me. I pushed the stakes against my stomach, moaning. One of these nights, those overwhelming emotions would split me wide open. I could feel it.
“Trinity.” I felt the breath from his whisper on my naked neck and I whirled, striking with the sharp pieces of wood. I moved fast, but not faster than the vampire who tormented me.
Amias was a master, and he was fast.
That didn’t stop me from trying to kill him. It never would. I’d stop trying when I was handed my death—which, judging by the pain that ripped through my body when I tried to hurt him, wouldn’t be too long in coming.
“I need you to listen to me,” he said, from the other side of my car.
Once again I whirled, frustrated tears clouding my vision. “Amias,” I screamed.
As though that scream might hold him in place while I ran
a stake through his black heart.
I caught a spark of pity in his eyes before he blanked them. “Please, Trinity. Listen to me.”
“Never again,” I swore.
I was ready when he disappeared, and I whirled, stake up, and caught him not in the chest, but in his shoulder.
He looked down, surprised, then met my stare. “Better.” Then he yanked the sharpened stick from his flesh and was gone.
The stake hit the pavement where he’d stood a millisecond earlier, his blood climbing halfway up the wood.
I leaned over with my hands on my knees, trying to breathe through the agony. I’d never been able to physically injure him before, and I was pretty sure it had hurt me more than it had him.
“Ow,” I whispered, waiting for the waves of pain to recede. “Shit, that hurts.”
Heavy footsteps sounded, racing across the parking lot, but I didn’t bother to turn. The footsteps didn’t belong to Amias. He was gone.
“What is it?” Angus Stark roared, racing toward me with a shotgun in his fist. “The fuck is it?”
“Amias was here.” My energy faded with the pain, and I leaned over to retrieve the bloody stake. My voice was as dead as the vampire who’d just left. “You’re too late. He’s gone.”
Angus stood beside me, his head swiveling, eyes narrowed, searching the shadows for a vampire he’d never catch.
None of us would.
I watched, for a few seconds, the strange fog that spread in muted colors and orderly trails close to the ground. The most vivid fog trailed in the direction Amias had just gone. It was a dark blue, swirling with lighter blues and white, and was actually quite beautiful.
No one else ever saw it. When I’d remarked upon it, only once and only to my doctor, all I’d gotten was a worried look and the suggestion that I discuss it with my psychiatrist.
So mostly, I ignored it, and I never spoke of it again. There was something wrong with my mind, or with my eyes, or both.
Half a dozen of the Stark kids gathered around us, smelling of pizza sauce and warmth and innocence. “Are you okay, Trinity?” one of them asked. He was a skinny eight-year-old named Cory. He was trying hard to be brave, scanning the dark like his daddy, his eyes narrow, his small hands curled into fists.
Lydia, Angus’s six-year-old daughter, took my free hand. “You’ll have some pizza,” she decided. “Let’s go in.”