Kindred (Kindred, Book 1)

by Nicola Claire

  But, despite my wayward musings on shape shifter legends, work called. I did my best to ignore the increasing uneasy feeling that life was changing and I was just along for the ride. Sometimes, I wondered just how much control I had left. Since moving to Auckland, so much of my life had been turned upside down. Michel was at the centre of that turmoil, that spiralling tornado of supernatural events, that was sucking me inexorably in. He represented not only the bad I now was exposed to, but also the reason why my life was fast becoming a mess.

  And then, of course, I felt drawn to him in a way I had never felt to another before. Reconciling what he did to my pulse rate when near and what he represented to my day to day life was impossible. I chose, for now, to just ignore it and concentrate on work. Denial could be a wonderful thing.

  I'm usually the second to arrive at the branch, after the manager. He gets there at the crack of dawn, but that suits me fine, I wouldn't be able to get in if he hadn't done the usual checks beforehand. Once the signal is set, you know the poster is facing the right way in the front window of the branch, you know it's safe to approach, he's not being held hostage by gun wielding robbers.

  If my life outside of work was spiralling out of control, at least my days at work were pretty much the same. From when the front doors open, until close of banking business at five. I grab my float from the safe out back, count it and place it in my drawer. I log on, open up my float on screen and I'm good to go. I'm the branch's main business teller. The others do everything from opening accounts, average customer deposits and withdrawals and foreign currency exchange. Me, I just deal with the big guys.

  Queen Street is the centre of business here in Auckland City and my branch is right in the thick of it. I'm pretty busy from the moment my sign says Queue Here until I tally up my float and store it back in the safe at the end of the day.

  I like my job, there's something so familiar in counting coins and notes and adding up cheques. The only variant is the customer and I know all of them by name now. It's such an opposite from my night-time gig, I relish it. In the evening, I never know when the pull will happen, what I will face and how it will end. But at work, I know. I know exactly what will happen.

  Apart from today.

  I felt them before I saw them. It was sunny out, so I was a little confused to start with. But when they entered the sliding doors at the front of the branch and I could see they were dressed head to toe in thick black coats, sunglasses and hats, I knew they had taken the vampire version of Slip, Slop, Slap to the extreme. However, covering up so heavily is pretty much a no-no in a bank. You could only make it worse if you were wearing a ski mask.

  I knew these guys weren't here for the money, though. Evil reeked from every pore. I almost choked on it, it was so strong and pervasive, seeping past the customers before me and slipping up my nose. I tried to breathe through my mouth, but then I could only taste it and that was ten times worse. It wasn't the evil of a human criminal however, these guys were on a whole other plane.

  There were three of them. Two standing either side of the doors, like Mafioso bodyguards, backing up the boss. The boss was big, over six feet looking at the strips of colour on the door jam. He walked slowly towards the end of my queue, which thankfully wasn't very long. The thought of my customers getting in the way of this vamp was not a pleasant one. When he reached the end of the line he just stood there, patiently, like a normal customer waiting their turn. There was absolutely nothing normal about this. He'd taken his glasses and hat off, so I guess even bad guy vamps don't want to set security off and he just stared at me with a hungry look on his face.

  In between dealing with those few customers in front of me, I took the opportunity to assess this new threat. He had a scar down his left cheek. It must have been made before he was turned, because an injury like that would have healed in a vamp, especially a vamp with Sanguis Vitam off the scale like this one. I'd guess 250 years old and a level two at least. He didn't try to hide it, he could see its discomfort on my skin by the look on my face and he was enjoying it.

  Finally I finished with the last customers in front of me, frantically thinking if I could just put up the Sorry, I'm Closed sign and see if that worked. I don't carry any silver at work. No stake, no knives. It's just never occurred to me that I'd need it in broad daylight. Not here in Auckland. Even the Ghouls are well behaved under the direct light of the sun. But I guess I'd have to change that philosophy from now on.

  He approached the counter in the usual vampire glide. His skin was pale white, the epitome of Hollywood vampire complexion. Vampires actually keep pretty much their skin colour from before they were turned, the only difference being a paler version when they haven't fed for some time. His hair hung over his forehead in a greasy hunk of black - another stereotype, not all vamps have dirty, scraggly hair - the contrast against his skin though was startling. He leaned on the counter, letting out a breath of stale, metallic smelling air and it took every ounce of my effort not to pull back and show my fear.

  His voice was surprisingly musical, for such a big hulk of a guy. He casually said, “You're going to leave now. Tell your boss you're sick and have got to go home. Don't talk to anyone else, meet us right here, in front of the counter. And Hunter, don't bring silver.”

  Just like that, no please or thank you. No we're gonna kill everyone if you don't comply. Just a simple statement of fact. He wasn't even trying to glaze me, but when the threat was made - and it was a threat, no two ways about it - I glanced at Tom & Jerry at the doors. One had his hand on a semi-automatic rifle under his coat and the other was glazing one of my colleagues, making her laugh out loud. I knew then what they'd do if I refused.

  The threat was implicit. Don't comply and we'll mess with your bank. I looked around at the other tellers, at my supervisor at the back. The manager was shaking hands with his latest appointment and it dawned on me how many lives would be affected. There were over twenty customers in the branch too, all of them with wives or husbands, kids or loved ones. All of them important to someone else.

  Me? I'm just one person. Sure my Mum and Dad would miss me, but that would be it. They'd survive, they've got the farm to keep them busy. I briefly flashed on Michel, but quelled that thought. I wasn't really that important to a Master Vampire, he'd find another obsession no doubt.

  So, I nodded. Closed my till drawer, withdrew the key and walked back to my supervisor. It didn't take much convincing for her to let me go. I must have looked like shit. My mind was reeling for an escape plan, but it just kept coming up blank. Maybe, just maybe, they didn't mean me any harm and just wanted a quiet chat.

  Yeah ri-ight.

  By the time I made it to the front of the branch, where Tom, Jerry and Scar Face were waiting, my knees were knocking, my breath was hitched and my heartbeat was thundering in my veins. There was simply no way to hide that level of fear. The vamps would have been able to smell it a mile off. They didn't say anything though, just nodded to each other and walked me out of the bank and my daytime sanctuary, between them.

  The hats and glasses were back on, but I noticed our side of the street was in shadow, so I guess that helped. A black van pulled up in front of the bank, typical bad guy get-away vehicle. No markings, dark windows, nothing distinctive. I noticed it was being driven by a human. I couldn't help thinking; Huh? Team effort eh?

  Tom got in the front, Jerry opened the sliding side door and Scar Face nudged me forward. There was nowhere to go, too many people on the footpath, too many innocents could get hurt and I'd never had to take on three vampires at once. And certainly none as powerful as this bunch. So, I just got in and sat on the bench seat in the rear.

  Jerry sat on the bench seat in front, taking up most of its bulk and Scar Face squeezed in next to me at the back seat. I felt like a sardine in a can. If it wasn't for the Sanguis Vitam that rolled off them in menacing waves, I would have cracked a joke. My timings not always the best, but we live and learn.

  No one said any
thing for the entire ride. They didn't blindfold me, they didn't threaten me, things were looking up. We left the CBD and headed towards Parnell, at the top of Parnell Rise we turned down a winding side street. Cars were parked on both sides of the narrow lane, so the driver took it easy, slowing the van to a crawl. Mustn't scratch the vamp's car.

  Finally we pulled up in front of an old warehouse. Parnell's not known for its warehouses, it's more a trendy urban café style haunt. Older houses are made over to look old, but new. The warehouse was no exception. It was old, but freshly painted in modern colours. Huge pot plants out the front, on either side of the large roller garage door, had Cabbage Trees in them. They didn't make me feel tropical in the slightest.

  The roller door did its thing, rolling up noisily and the van inched forward into a courtyard. The finality of that roller door closing behind us made all my hope disappear. I was stuck now, there was simply no escape.

  Jerry jumped out and held the sliding door open Scar Face shuffled, wedged, and awkwardly squeezed his bulk out between the seats and the van walls, to stumble to his feet on the concrete floor of the courtyard. If this guy wasn't careful, he was going to make me laugh.

  We walked across the covered courtyard to the front door of what was obviously the dwelling on the premises. As soon as the door opened, I doubled over in pain. Doors don't usually contain vampire power, they're a pretty flimsy wall when it comes to the supernatural pull or effect of Sanguis Vitam.

  Obviously the vamp above us wanted to time things just right and make sure I knew he was there. Show off.

  The power abated slightly, enough for Scar Face to grab my arm and hoist me forward up a thin staircase to what was bound to not be the Energiser Bunny despite the prickles of Sanguis Vitam that rolled across my skin. It was more than I had ever faced before. More than even Michel. I swallowed a lump in my throat. Dear God, what did they want to do to me?

  The vampire who owned all that unbelievably strong Sanguis Vitam was waiting in the room we entered and was tall and well dressed. His style was a combination of luxuriant casual, dripping an easy sexual appeal. Could I see the sexual appeal despite my now outright fear? Hell yes! He wanted me to, so I did.

  He was wearing expensive jeans, which as you'd expect fitted him like a second skin. His chest was bare where his black shirt gaped open to his navel, showing an expanse of muscular skin, unblemished and in a honey gold colour you could almost lick when you looked at it. His eyes were green, an unexpected colour for a vampire. And his sandy blonde hair short, above the collar, another unexpected. Vampires usually had longer hair, a throw back to the good old days no doubt. They could cut it and regrow it, but for some reason it was their fashion faux pas.

  “Welcome, Lucinda Monk.”

  Like everything else about him his voice dripped sex. It wrapped around me like a luxurious coat and sent shivers down my spine. I couldn't help feeling that this was going to be tedious, if our entire conversation was going to wreak havoc with my innocence. I felt an uninvited blush rise up my cheeks.

  The power abated abruptly, as if he could read my mind.

  “Forgive me, I can't seem to help myself it would seem.” So similar to Michel, hadn't he said something like that?

  “Please take a seat, be comfortable.” When I hesitated he said, “I only wish to talk. For now.” The for now kind of ruined the reassurance he was going for.

  I took a seat in a chair across from him, as far as humanly possible away from where he stood leaning back casually against the wall, legs crossed at his ankles, arms in his pockets. He was a poster boy for GQ Magazine, an absolute god. He was so gorgeous, but despite all that beauty, I wasn't fooled. He nodded to Scar Face, who turned and left with a quiet click of the door. I guess you don't need a bodyguard around a petite unarmed female when you're master of death.

  And that's the thing. I could feel the evil floating off the goons who had collected me from work, but this guy, he was hiding it well. All I got was the now muted sense of his Sanguis Vitam, untainted, yet also un-anything. With Michel I could feel the good in his power, it's kind of like reading someone's aura I guess, although I'm not very good at that. But with Michel, I can sense his aura or goodness, it's all gold and light. This guy though was just a void. What are you hiding, buddy?

  When he didn't immediately say anything, I thought I might as well jump right in. In for a penny, in for a pound, so they say.

  “Why am I here?”

  “I wish to make an offer. You have been in the company of such an exclusive lot you need to realise your potential, broaden your horizons, so to speak.” He smiled at me then, a stunning smile that lit up his eyes making the greens so vivid it was almost blinding. But it wasn't my Michel's smile, there were no blues or indigos there. I mentally shook myself at that thought, but then stopped. If thoughts of Michel could dispel whatever this vamp tried on me, then so much the better.

  When I didn't respond, he went on. “You are wasted here, Lucinda.” He stalked across the room toward me in a sensual glide, all hips and legs and muscles rippling. He leaned over my chair and looked me in the eye, his hand resting on the bottom of my chin to tilt my face slightly upwards. His touch was warm and yet cool. I could feel a slight tingling where his thumb stroked my face. “I offer you the world.”

  Something inside me, something akin to my inner monologue, but not quite as insistent, spoke in my mind. Stall. Stall for time, drag this out as long as you can. I could only assume that when this conversation was done my life would be over, that's why my voice was telling me to stall for time. To what end that would accomplish I did not yet know, but I had faith I'd think of something. I'm pretty good at thinking on my feet.

  I cleared my throat and pulled back slightly from his grip. He let me, for now. “What exactly are you offering?”

  His smile widened, it looked more genuine than before. His earlier effort had obviously all been for show, this one was natural. My question was apparently what he wanted to here.

  My inner voice growled.

  “First, let me introduce myself,” he said as he perched against the arm of my chair. Too close, too close! My inner monologue, the insistent one, shouted. I shoved the voice aside and hid my emotions as best I could. When you've been around vampires as long as I have, you learn to suppress your facial expressions, to hide anger or fear or any of those other unwanted emotions. If not, it could lead to an instant death. It's not easy if the emotion creeps up on you unexpectedly, but when you're braced and on high alert, like I was right now, then it's possible. Just.

  “I am Maximilian, my friends call me Max.”

  “What do your enemies call you?” It was out before I could stop myself. I mean, come on, the guy had left himself wide open for that one!

  He smiled a sly smile this time. “They call me Death.” Spooky much?

  I swallowed and shifted a little further away in my chair. He laughed at that and threw back his head. A delightful manly chuckle that warmed me up inside.

  “I mean you no harm, Lucinda. On the contrary, I wish for a joining. I would not have my servant injured in any way.”

  “Servant?” I raised my eyebrows. He lowered his.

  “Has he not told you?” And then more to himself, “Could it be?” He stood up quickly at that and paced the room. Go figure, a vampire pacing?

  “There is much to tell you, but we do not have time. Not here. Will you come with me willingly?”

  Stall! Do not let him move you from here. Keep him talking, delay him at all costs. This time my inner voice almost shouted, I had to use every ounce of control in me to not openly wince. What the?

  “Um, I...I'm not sure what you're offering.” And then seeing his eyes darken ominously added, “I want to go with you, really, but I just need, I mean, I haven't eaten all day and I'm feeling a little weak. I don't suppose...?” I let the question hang in the air, hoping he'd accept my piss-poor attempt at subterfuge.

  He was already at the door. “Tony, brin
g us some food”. He hadn't raised his voice, so Tony, whichever one of the goons he was, was nearby. Vampires do have great hearing, but still, they need to at least be in the same building.

  “You shall eat and then we shall go.” He returned to his own chair across from me. At least that was an improvement.

  I glanced around the room, taking in my predicament, for all the good it would do me. I couldn't tell what time it was, the windows were shuttered closed and I don't wear a watch, but I was guessing it was about four in the afternoon by now. Maybe even as close to five. The bank would be closing, the sun getting lower in the sky. Maybe travelling at night would be better for him too, that's why he had acquiesced so easily to my request.

  “I plan for an equal joining, Lucinda. More than you could hope from him. You will participate in all my endeavours right beside me, where you can be seen, admired for what and who you are.”

  Somehow that didn't have the desired effect on me I was guessing he was after. Just then Tony, Scar Face - who would have thought the goon had such an appropriate Mafioso name - came into the room with a bag from McDonald's. I could smell the French fries and I wasn't in the slightest bit hungry. Being held captive by an uber-powerful Master Vampire and told you will be joined to him in all his endeavours tends to unsettle the stomach somewhat, but I had to carry on the pretence.

  I smiled slightly at Tony. His power level was well under check in the presence of his Master, but his returning grin told me just what he'd do if the Master wasn't there.

  “That will be all, Tony.” Max/Death, whatever, gave Scar Face a glare that could have frozen an snowman. To Tony's credit, he didn't hang around.

  I pulled the French fries out of the bag and began nibbling on them. Max watched with quiet intrigue. “You are stunning,” he said, with a hint of sexual desire that coated his every word.

  “I'm eating a French fry. How is that stunning?”

  He smiled wryly. “I had heard you often spoke without thinking. I shall teach you restraint. You may never need worry about that fault again.”