"Well, that was exciting," John said.
"Most fun I've had all week. You really think that kid was Angelica's errand boy?"
"Hell, I don't know. He looks like the guy she's with, but who can keep track, right? It's always a God damn soap opera with these vampires."
"You got that right. Sometimes I miss being out on our own. Nobody to answer to. Just the pack."
"Yeah, me too, Duke. Me too. But we're making a lot more money standing in front of this gate than we were knockin' over liquor stores and gas stations."
"Yeah, I guess. I just—GHAK!"
Duke's works were cut off by a silver blade, thrust straight through his throat. Smoke rose from the wound. Blood poured out, covering his shirt and pants.
"Duke? Duke!"
The blade withdrew, and Duke fell into a heap on the ground. The kid was standing behind him, holding a long, blood-covered sword in one hand, and a matching dagger in the other. His eyes were red and furious. He snarled, revealing his fangs.
Roaring in anger, John loosed a crossbow bolt at the kid. The kid moved in a blur, and cut the bolt in half with his dagger. God damn vampires.
John threw the empty crossbow on the ground—he really needed to talk to Liam about getting some real guns—and charged. He started to shift on the run, and after three steps he threw himself through the air, snarling and snapping at the kid.
The kid wasn't ready for that, and John's fangs latched onto his shoulder. The kid grunted in pain and fell to the ground. His shirt came off in John's jaws, and John spat it out, snarled, and lunged for the kid's throat.
***
Michael grunted as the wolf clamped down onto his arm.
The creature shook its head, trying to rip it off. But Michael flipped the wolf over, coming up on top of it, and slammed his dagger into the wolf. It squealed and tried to pull away, but Michael held it in place and rammed the dagger home again and again.
The wolf stopped moving, and Michael stood up. He watched as the animal morphed back into a human, and resisted the urge to kick the body in the ribs.
Michael pulled the remaining strips of his shirt away from his body and threw them on the ground, then picked up his rapier and dagger. The werewolves' blood still sizzled and smoked on the silver-laced blade.
Michael looked up at the mansion, steeled himself, and started to run.
He didn't even bother trying to open the doors; he just put his shoulder down and lunged, tearing them from their hinges and sending splintered wood showering into the entryway. The inside of the house was dark, lit only by the moonlight coming through the windows. Two more guards, in human form, were standing inside. They jumped, then trained their crossbows on Michael.
The arrows cut through the air, but Michael saw them moving in slow motion. He turned his shoulder and let one of the arrows slip past him while cutting the other out of the air. He went with his momentum, turning in a complete circle, and threw his dagger right into the heart of the guard on the left.
Two more guards came in, one from the left and one from the right. All three of them shifted into wolf form and began to circle Michael.
The wolves were fast and strong; more powerful than a normal wolf, and more powerful than a human by far. But even a werewolf couldn't compare to sheer overwhelming force a vampire could bring to bear.
Unless they attacked as a pack. Working together, the wolves had an advantage. Working together, they could even take out an old, powerful vampire.
And Michael wasn't old.
The wolves formed a triangle around him and circled to the left. Michael turned, trying to keep all three of them in sight.
The first attack came from behind. The wolf snarled and lunged, and Michael whirled, his blade slicing through the air. But the wolf's attack was a feint; it stopped dead, and the blade sailed harmlessly over its head. Simultaneously, another wolf attacked from Michael's blind side.
Michael fell to the ground and rolled, carrying the wolf with him. He felt teeth sink into his arm—again—and a growl built up in his chest. He came up on top of the wolf and raised his dagger, but the third wolf jumped onto his back, crushing Michael to the ground.
Seeing Michael's vulnerability, the first wolf lunged for his throat. But Michael caught the beast in mid-air and hurled it away. Then he drove his elbow back, striking the animal behind him with bone-shattering force. He punched the wolf beneath him hard enough to crack the marble floor, then jumped to his feet.
The wolves, injured but alive, tried to regroup. Michael moved toward the door, almost too fast for the wolves to track, and pulled the arrow he had dodged out of the wall. He turned and hurled it, and it shot through the air like a missile, lodging in the center wolf's eye. The wolf crumpled to the ground and shifted back into human form.
The wolf to his left let out a howl, and the wolf on his right came at him, snarling. The beast jumped, attacking with a frothing mouth, but Michael caught it by the throat and squeezed, snapping it's neck. The wolf began to shift in his grip, and Michael dropped the corpse on the floor.
The last wolf ran at Michael full bore. Michael ran, too, and kicked his rapier in mid-stride, sending it into the air in front of him. He caught it, whirled, and cut the wolf down.
A pair of arrows smacked into the ground near his feet. Michael looked up to see another pair of human-forms running into the room, dropping spent crossbows and pulling knives. Michael hurled his dagger again, and one of the guards fell to the ground. The second reached down and took his partner's knife, and came at Michael with both blades flashing through the air around him.
The guard knew what he was doing with a knnife; Michael thought that his form looked like some kind of Filipino martial art. But a pair of knives is no match for the reach of a long sword, and Michael held him at bay, the shining blade flicking through the air like lightning, drawing fresh blood every time the guard got too close.
Frustrated, the guard threw caution to the wind and lunged at Michael, both knives high in the air, ready to smash them down into Michael's body. But Michael umped into the air, sailed over the guard's head, and landed neatly behind him. The guard looked left and right, confused. Michael slid up to him, grabbed his hair, pulled his head back, and held the blade to his throat. "Where is the girl?" he asked, his voice a harsh whisper.
"Screw you."
Michael traced the blade along his skin, drawing blood and smoke. "All right, all right!" the guard said. "She's upstairs, big room at the end of the hall!"
"Thank you," Michael said, and slit his throat.
Three more guards, all in human form, were waiting at the top of the stairs. Michael dodged more arrows and threw both of his blades at them. The guards dove aside, untouched by the blades, and came back to their feet. The blades buried themselves into the wall.
Michael was gone.
"What the hell?" The first guard asked.
"God damn vampires," the second said.
"Why the hell are the lights off?" The third asked. "That doesn't even make any sense. How is that supposed to help us?"
"We can see in the dark?"
"Not like they can. Jesus. I'm done with this. After we kill this idiot, I'm turning—"
Michael dropped from the ceiling, landing in the midst of the three werewolves. He snapped the speaker's neck and let him fall to the ground.
The other two started to yell. One grabbed for Michael, but Michael raked his talons over the offending arm, shredding flesh and drawing a scream. The other werewolf slashed with a dagger, but Michael blocked it and slashed across his midsection, ripping him open. Then Michael turned and dispatched the other guard with a flash of his talons.
There were five more guards, in wolf form, between Michael and the door. He grabbed his blades and yanked them from the wall, then started forward, as grim as death. The wolves snarled and snapped. Michael moved down the hallway inexorably, severing limbs and slitting throats. Blood and screams filled the air.
Michael stood
before the door, surrounded by the bodies of his enemies, and shook the blood from his blades. He braced himself and kicked, reducing the door to splinters with a thundering crash, and stormed into the room.
The empty room.
Michael looked around. "Seriously? You've got to be kidding." He turned and walked back out, and crossed to the other room at the end of the hall. He kicked a severed arm out of the way, and smashed his way into the room.
There, curled into a ball and clutching her leg, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, was Caitlin.
Chapter Four
The screaming stopped, and a few seconds later, Caitlin heard a crash that shook the floor beneath her. Her heart pounded, and she tried to push herself further into the corner. She thought she heard what sounded like someone muttering to himself.
And then the door exploded.
It wasn't just torn off the hinges. The center of the door bowed inward, the wood cracked and splintered, and pieces of wood came flying through the air. Caitlin shielded her face with her arms.
When the last of the wood had clattered to the ground, Caitlin looked toward the empty door frame, and stared with wide eyes.
Michael, the guy she met at the club, the guy who had been so angry at Liam, stood there. He was naked from the waist up, and the moonlight illuminated the white skin of his perfect, chiseled torso. His waist was narrow, his stomach looked like it was etched from marble, and his chest seemed like it was carved from stone. His shoulders were wide and powerful. His arms were sinewy, and covered in blood up to the elbows. He held two blades, a sword and a long knife, which dripped crimson and gave off faint wisps of smoke. He stood imperiously, defying anyone to challenge him, and scanned the room with fearsome eyes.
He looked like an angry angel.
His expression softened when he looked at her, and he started forward.
He didn't see Ugly walk into the room behind him.
Ugly drew a knife and slid silently toward Michael. Caitlin opened her mouth to warn him, but couldn't make her voice work. Ugly raised the knife high. It glinted in the moonlight, then plunged toward Michael's back.
Michael whirled and slashed, driving his dagger into Ugly's descending arm, piercing it through. Ugly screamed and dropped his knife. Michael lunged and thrust his blade forward, stabbing Ugly through the heart. Ugly looked at him with uncomprehending eyes, then slid to the floor.
Caitlin stared at Michael with an open mouth.
Michael pulled his blades free, set them on the ground, then wiped his hands on Ugly's pant legs. He stood and walked toward Caitlin. His hands were spread wide, a calming gesture, but the effect was kind of lost since they were still spattered blood. And, you know, the chalk-white skin, blood-red eyes, and mouth full of fangs.
But as he knelt next to her, the color returned to his skin and his fangs melted away, and his eyes again became brilliant sapphires. "It's all right, Caitlin. You don't have to be afraid anymore." He gently moved her hands away from her leg. "God, what did he do to you?"
"It, it wasn't Liam," Caitlin said. "It was him." She nodded at Ugly with her chin.
"Well, that's convenient."
"What?"
"That he's already dead. It means I don't have to find him and kill him. It's such a pain in the ass trying to find a guy that knows you want to kill him." He studied her injury. "You're not going to be able to walk on that." He made a face. "Hell, I don't even know if the doctors could fix it, the wound is so ragged. Damn wolves."
Caitlin's heart sped up. "What do you mean, they won't be able to fix it? They have to fix it." Panic was creeping into her voice.
"It's all right. Here." Michael lifted his wrist to his mouth, and his fangs reappeared. He bit into his own flesh, which made a horrible noise, and held his arm out. "Drink. It'll heal you."
Caitlin wrinkled her nose and looked at his wrist dubiously. Dark red liquid leaked from a series of holes. "Quick, before it closes," he said.
Caitlin took his hand and licked it hesitantly. It had a metallic taste, but it didn't squick her out as much as she thought it would. Soon, she had her mouth pressed tight to his skin, and was drinking hungrily.
The blood poured into her mouth. It was cool, but it burned going down her throat. It felt like electricity was shooting through her body, and she was filled with sudden, irresistible need. She held tight onto his arm and drank greedily.
Michael pulled away gently. "Okay, that's enough." Caitlin made a noise of protest and grabbed for his hand, but Michael held her away. "Look," he said.
The wounds on her shoulder and leg were closing. The skin seemed to flow back together like water, and soon she was completely healed. There was no scar, and no pain. You couldn't tell where the blood on her clothing had come from.
Caitlin touched her leg gingerly, and flexed her calf muscle. Then she rolled her shoulder. Everything felt fine. Better than fine. She felt stronger than she had in, well, ever.
Michael was staring at her.
"You're a vampire?" she asked. He nodded.
For a while, Caitlin just stared at him. Then, finally, she spoke.
"Holy shit," she said. "That's awesome!"
***
"I'm sorry, what?"
"You're a vampire," Caitlin said, climbing to her feet. "That's so cool! I mean, oh my God, everyone wants to meet a vampire, and I've met two of them in one night! One of them tried to kill me, but I mean, come on, I'm all right, and you, you're ... wow."
Caitlin was staring at his naked chest like she was trying to figure out which piece of him to eat first, and Michael suddenly wished he had a shirt to put on.
"You have to tell me everything," Caitlin said. "How old are you? How did you become a vampire? How many of you are there? Can you walk in the sunlight? What's with the swords? How do you know Liam? Are you two brothers?"
"Can we leave the evil vampire's evil lair first?" Michael asked.
"Oh, right, sure. So, how are we going to get out of here? Out the front door, or ...?"
"Let's go through the window. There's ... the rest of the house is kind of a mess."
"A mess? Why would that stop us?"
Michael gestured toward Ugly's corpse. "A mess. A really big mess."
"Oh. Okay, right, out the window then. I, um, I tried to climb down earlier, and I guess I kinda made it, but it isn't easy. We'll have to—"
"We're only twenty feet off the ground. I can jump from here."
"That's nice and all, but I can't, and—"
"I'll hold you, if you'll hold my blades."
"Oh, sure!"
Michael picked up the sword and dagger, and handed them to Caitlin. "Careful. The blades are laced with silver, and they'll burn me if I touch them."
"Okay, got it. Silver burns vampires. What about him?"
"He's a werewolf," Michael said. "Was."
"Yeah, I know. He turned into a wolf when I tried to escape."
"...And that doesn't, I don't know, bother you?"
Caitlin put her hands on her hips. "Michael, it is my first night at college. And in the last few hours, I have been hypnotized—"
"Compelled."
"—bitten, kidnapped by a vampire, escaped, recaptured, mauled, rescued by another vampire, and healed with vampire blood. A guy that turns into a dog is not the weirdest thing that's happened to me today."
Michael pursed his lips. "Good point."
He gathered Caitlin up into his arms. She held the silver blades carefully away from him, and snuggled close to his chest. "Okay," she said, "let's go."
Michael shook his head and crossed to the window. He pulled it open and stepped up onto the windowsill. "Ready?" Caitlin nodded, and Michael stepped out into the air.
Caitlin's heart leapt when they fell, but they touched the ground as lightly as a falling feather. Michael set her down and collected his blades. "This way," he said.
Caitlin hurried after him. "So really, about the sunlight? Can you go out in the sunlight?"
&n
bsp; "No."
"Do you, you know?"
Without breaking stride, Michael looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
"You know? In the sunlight, do you ... sparkle?"
Michael stopped. "Those God damn books." He shook his head and started walking again.
"Okay, so that's a 'no' on the sparkling. So, silver burns, and sunlight ... I'm guessing that burns, too?"
"Brilliant deduction."
"Okay, silver burns, sunlight burns. Fire?"
"Yes, fire also burns," he said.
"Okay, great. So, did you always look like this, or did you get hot when you became a vampire?"
Michael looked at her, exasperated, and kept walking.
They reached the wall at the edge of the estate. Michael handed his blades over to Caitlin, and took her into his arms again. He crouched and jumped, and they sailed over the old stone, landing gently in the grass on the other side.
His car was waiting for them. It was some kind of sports car, all curvy and black and gleaming. The thing looked like it was crouching, ready to spring forward at a moment's notice. The doors unlocked themselves as Michael walked toward it. Michael reclaimed his blades, and slid them into the back seat.
He crossed to the other side and opened the door, holding it for Caitlin. Caitlin paused just long enough to take another look at Michael's chest, then slipped inside.
Michael climbed into the driver's seat, and the car growled to life. He slammed it into gear and smashed the accelerator, and the car roared forward.
"Um, where are we going?" Caitlin asked.
"Home."
"Oh, okay. Um, I live on the campus, and—"
"My home."
"Oh. Oh. Okay then. Um, why?"
"Because I can't protect you if I'm not with you, and I'm not in the mood for Jell-O shots."
"Oh."
They drove for a few minutes before Caitlin spoke again. "Um, Michael? Can you turn the headlights on? I know you probably don't need them or anything, but you're kind of freaking me out."
Michael glanced over, then flicked the lights on. "Sorry," he said.
Sire Page 5