Stalking Shade

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Stalking Shade Page 8

by L. K. Below


  “Rosland, I wouldn’t–”

  “I thought so too, but then I saw you threaten an innocent man on the street and I knew. I knew you had taken the Spenta Michos. Did that man come a little too close to the truth?” The gun in his hand shook. Would he shoot her? She gulped.

  “Was he onto you?” This time, Rosland kicked the chair, nearly toppling her over. “Shade is such a befitting name for you, you evil bitch! It fits your black soul. I should have guessed then, when I recruited you.”

  Since she didn’t know what he was talking about, she kept her mouth tightly shut. Better to say nothing at all than to say the wrong thing. Angered at her silence, he struck her again. His weapon clipped her eye. That blow had been dangerously close to her temple.

  “Tell me where the Spenta Michos is!”

  “Minneapolis.” Why had she said that? Of all the places she could have thought up in the heat of the moment, she had to choose one she had never even been to. When he started to quiz her about the city, he would smell the lie. If he couldn’t already see it on her face. Desperately, she tried to weave a believable story to buy herself more time. “My Great Aunt left me her house there when she died. I haven’t been there since I was a kid, but nobody knows about it, so it seemed like the perfect place.”

  Rosland seemed surprised, but he soon recovered. He pressed the muzzle to her temple, tilting her head to the side with his bruising force. “Who are your accomplices?”

  Lori thought quickly. “Shark. Shark was my accomplice. And Garcias.”

  Rosland swore excitedly. “I knew it! I knew that bitch was involved when she wouldn’t tell me anything…” He fixed his attention on her. “Anyone else?”

  “Only a couple people in Minneapolis. I doubt you know any of them.”

  “Names?”

  “Jerry St. Denis, Robert Finch, Sandy Carson.” She hoped there weren’t people of those names living in Minneapolis currently, or she had just condemned them.

  “What about your demonic little puppy?”

  “T-Terrence? He’s not in this.” Before she said something she would regret, she shut her mouth.

  “Don’t cover for him,” Rosland snarled, stepping a pace towards her again. “I’ve seen his teeth. I know he’s your lapdog, Lucifer.”

  “His teeth are fake.”

  Rosland sneered. “So he’d like to pretend he’s more than he is. I know he’s your henchman.”

  “I–” She cleared her throat. Unfortunately, she could say nothing more to absolve Terrence. Rosland refused to listen. Giving up, she muttered, “You’re right.”

  Her efforts to get herself free proved fruitless. She almost jiggled the entire chair in frustration, but she didn’t want to alert Rosland to what she was attempting to do. As she continued to try to slip her fingers around the knot, her heart pounded a rapid drum roll in her chest.

  “Where in Minneapolis is this house?”

  She forced herself to laugh. “I’m not that stupid. If I told you, I would be completely useless, now wouldn’t I?” His gun returned to her temple, aggravating the bruise she could feel forming there. Quickly, she yelped, “I’ll show you! If you promise not to kill me after.” It seemed to be what he expected, and she thought it best to be predictable just now.

  “I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me.”

  “If you do, you’ll never find him.”

  “I’m a master tracker, you know.”

  “Ah, but will you get there in time? If I don’t call, he won’t be fed.”

  Rosland swore. Holding her breath, Lori braced herself for more pain. As he circled around behind her, she stopped jiggling her ties. A moment later, they loosened. “Get up.”

  Standing, she raised her arms in the air and eased herself away from Rosland. When she slowly turned to face him, she saw that he still had the gun trained on her. “We’re going. Now.”

  A shadow detached itself from the wall behind him. Without thinking, she threw herself to the ground. The gun discharged, ringing in her ears. A bullet took a chunk out of the wall behind her. Uncovering her head, she lunged for the gun as it clattered to the ground. Glancing up, she saw Terrence sink his fangs into Rosland’s neck. There must have been another entrance into the warehouse. But how had he known to come? Leaving the gun on the ground, she slowly pushed herself to her feet, edging toward the door. The threat of Terrence’s fangs hadn’t been an empty one, after all. Not like she’d thought.

  At first, Rosland screamed, writhing like a fish caught on land. But Terrence held tight as blood dribbled down his chin, coating his mouth. As Lori reached the door, she gripped the knob, but her hands were too slick from sweat. Once Rosland gave up his struggles, falling limp, Terrence dropped him and strode towards Lori. He had never looked so menacing.

  Gripping her arm, he growled, “Let’s get out of here, Lori.” He steered her out the door, but once there, she pulled herself free, stumbling back. Just what was he? A real vampire? A delusional fake? These past two months he had seemed so normal…well, as normal as any faux-vampire could be. She should have known when she’d walked in on him drinking blood.

  “Are you hurt?” He reached up to touch her eye where it was beginning to swell.

  “Stay away from me, you monster.”

  His bloodstained face fell. Grimly, he wiped the blood from his chin. “I’m sorry if I scared you, Lori my love, but he would have killed you.”

  “I’m not your anything!” She stumbled back.

  His expression hardening, he followed. “Yes, you are. Come. Let’s go home.” His words were stiff. He grabbed hold of her elbow.

  This time when her fingers found her stake, she didn’t stop. She didn’t think. She plunged it into his chest, parting muscle. He stared in shock, unable to speak. Dropping first to his knees, he collapsed onto the ground.

  “Oh no.” She shook. What had she done? Desperately, she kneeled beside him. Rolling him onto his back, she ignored his gaping blue eyes and gripped her stake with both hands, wrenching it from his chest. She cleaned it with his shirt before she tucked it in her sheath. Fumbling for his cellphone, she fished it from his pocket and dialed the emergency number with the tips of her fingernails. As the operator picked up, she left it lying on the pavement.

  With her mind reeling, she ran.

  * * * *

  Slowly–too slowly–Terrence felt the wound in his chest close. His Lori had good aim. A little to the left and she would have dusted him. Thanks to his recent feeding, he had enough blood in his system to heal both the wound and the poison of silver in his veins. Still, that had been the closest he had come to oblivion in over a century.

  Grimacing, he rose. This would make conquering Lori exponentially more difficult. He might scare her to death if he approached her after she thought she had killed him. Eventually, he would turn her. But now… Lori will flee. Without finding another way to woo her, Terrence would lose the only woman who had ever intrigued him. A problem for another day. Before dawn came, he needed to return to safety. Raising his face to the moon, he condensed his form, flying away on leathery wings.

  As for the Spenta Michos… Terrence had the sinking feeling that both he and Lori might be caught up in the debacle a little too closely.

  L.K. Below

  L.K. Below created the Order with five close friends while in high school. While not nearly as zealous as Lori, she highly esteems the Spenta Michos – who happens to be her former English teacher and a member of Exarare, her current writer’s critique group. Thanks to his encouragement, she finds herself a published author today. Visit her online at her blog at http://lbelow.blogspot.com or learn more about The Order series at http://bit.ly/TheOrder.

  L.K.’s Website:

  www.lbelow.com

  Reader eMail:

  [email protected]

  Also by L.K. Below

  Beauty In His Bed

  Never A Princess, Always A Frog

  Stone Cold Kiss

  The Order Series
<
br />   Stalking Shade

  Out of the Shadows

  The Blackened Night

  Lyrical Press books are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2011 L.K. Below

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.

  First Electronic Edition: October 2011

  ISBN-13: 978-1-61650-320-8

 

 

 


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