“They told me you were stronger than this, more clever too. Hmm, I guess they were wrong, my sweet. You are nothing but a little girl, playing Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Where is the big bad Hunter I have heard so much about, hmm? Where indeed.”
Where indeed sweetie? That's just what I was thinking. Not trying to be egotistical or anything, but usually my hunts go a hell of a lot better than this. And usually I don't have to battle more than one blood thirsty vampire in a night. This, however, is the third numbskull vamp to cross my path trying to feed off the innocent. I'd have to ask Michel about this influx of careless vampires, eating in such a public way, disregarding all of his rules when entering his city.
That's if I could get out of this little encounter alive. So far, the jury was still out on that one.
I rolled onto my back, feeling the wet muck of the alley seeping in through my light chiffon blouse. The stars were out tonight, no clouds in the sky from the earlier downpour, almost a Full Moon, but not quite. Old evil face was slowly stalking closer, if you could call it stalking. It's always more of a glide with the older vamps and this one was about 150 years, judging by the power level oozing off him like thick syrup. I could almost reach out and touch it, so thick and sweetly smelling. With a hint of rot underneath.
I had to stall him, get back on my feet. He had disarmed me as soon as I had approached; a simple flick of his wrist, a magical brush against my fingers and the stake was gone. It was now down the far end of the alley, by the entrance, where all of a sudden not a single soul was walking by. Go figure. Not that I'd want a Norm to get involved in this, but I did kind of feel alone right now. Even just the sound of late night “clubbers” would have been welcome, but no such luck.
Still, I haven't honed my skills over the past two years without arming myself with more than one weapon. I shifted slightly to my right, casually slipping my left arm into my belt at the top of my skirt, all the while making full eye contact with fang-face.
“You seem awfully sure of yourself. What makes you think this isn't some kind of a trap?” I hedged, all the while watching him stalk ever closer; so slow, so predatory, so sure.
He glanced over his shoulder quickly at that though, I must have managed to ruffle his feathers, or cape. It was enough of a distraction to slip my little silver knife out of its sheath at my waist and hide it behind my wrist and arm.
“I don't think so, Hunter. You work alone. I know a lot about you, you could say, your name is on the most wanted list with my kind. An all-points bulletin. We even study your moves.”
Huh? It was just one of those nights for surprises I guess. I didn't know I was that popular amongst the otherworldly nasties, but there you go.
“It's always nice to be recognised for my efforts,” I replied, whilst lying perfectly still and taking small shallow breaths to ease the pain. It was just a constant ache now, no longer that sharp stabbing pain, as though a rib was about to pierce the side of my skin.
He noticed of course, they always do when you're injured. Something about the predator in them. They sense the weak, they sniff out the pain to use it against you. I'd have to time this just right. One shot and one shot only.
There's one thing you can count on when it comes to vamps though, they're arrogant sons of bitches. He may know all my moves, or thinks he does, but he wouldn't believe for a moment that I could succeed in using them on him, could succeed in getting the drop on him, if you will. I'm betting he'd be wrong there. Pride before a fall and all that.
He leaned over me, fangs obvious in the glint of the moon streaking down the alley above us. There was a fat drop of blood hanging off the right one, threatening to spill on my shirt. He'd either bitten himself accidentally, or more likely, he did manage to get fang to neck on the now unconscious blonde in a pile over by the dumpster. Bastard!
“I'm going to enjoy teaching you a lesson, Hunter,” he whispered as he moved in for the strike.
“That's what they all say,” I countered as my arm arced gracefully across the front of him. I knew I couldn't get the heart from the angle I was at. That wasn't what I was aiming for, but that pretty face of his would certainly feel the silver as it sliced into his cheek.
A howl rent the night air. An excruciating sound of anger and guttural, visceral pain. He sprang back against the far wall, with his hand covering the slash from his left ear to mouth, already healing, despite the silver of the knife. It takes a lot to permanently damage a creature of the night.
I used the distraction and distance to get to my feet, not as ladylike as I would have liked, but hey, no one was watching. Well no one who mattered. Old sweetie pie hadn't taken his eyes off me for a second. They can be very focused when they need to be.
“You shall pay for that!” he spat. “I've been holding back, toying with you, but no longer, Hunter. The game is up.”
Indeed, it was. We began slowly circling each other, me with my, now somewhat pitiful slender silver knife, him with his fangs which only seemed to be getting bigger and longer the more I looked at them. Oh what big teeth you've got, I thought bizarrely. Losing it now was not an option. Luckily for me, since my first encounter with a vampire, my strength at resisting their spell-binding gaze had increased. To such a point that only the rare higher level master vamp had any effect on me. This guy, was only a level four on the Sanguis Vitam scale, strong, but not strong enough. So, I could look him in the eye when I said, “Right back at ya, Sweetie”. And then forced a grin.
I've always felt confidence in a retort could only be achieved when making direct eye contact, somehow the effect is lost when you have to look at your shoes.
He came at me in a flash. I was expecting it, but still, they can move and you don't even see it. Especially when they want to and this chap had had it with me. Anger poured off his skin in waves. I only just managed to raise the knife enough to glance the sleeve of his shirt and knick the skin ever so slightly. I might as well have been a mosquito for all the good it did. But, his arm crashed against the side of my face, throwing my head and body around and against the hard and unforgiving brick wall. I tasted blood and felt my vision blur again, but the hit hadn't been a direct hand punch, thankfully.
I used the momentum of springing back off that solid mass of brick and concrete to roll away and under his approaching bulk, sweeping out my leg as I passed him. It only made him stumble, but still... go me!
He rounded on me in that lightning speed. But I rolled to the left, closer to the entrance of the alley, making what would have been a killer blow, into a somewhat lesser one. Pain in my back erupted like a burst balloon, shooting up my spine into the base of my head. I thought my back would snap, it was so bad. Tears started rolling down my face, my fingers tingled and then went numb. Now, I was mad.
I rounded to face my killer. No way was I going down without a fight. He grinned; a typical evil bad guy grin, all teeth and smirk. He hardly had a scratch on him. Some reputation I've got. I took a step back, towards the entrance and light, towards the safety of a crowd. He cocked his head as though to say, you think you can make it?
I couldn't and we both knew it, but I could reach my stake. I moved, right before he flew through the air towards me. I rolled head over heels, transferring my knife to my left hand and picking up my stake with my right, as I sailed over it. All those hours play-fighting with my best mate Rick's shape shifter Hapū was paying off. I landed in a crouch, half twisted towards him. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. His arms came out around me, his head and face over my left shoulder, he grabbed my hair and jerked my head to the right, lifting me off my feet. I felt a few hairs come loose and my back was screaming for release, but his hold was slack, not crushing. Stupid. Never lower your guard.
I twisted with the pull of my neck, not resisting it. I brought my right arm across my chest and up under my left armpit, directly towards his chest. The angle wasn't great, but it was close enough. As soon as he felt the silver of the stake breach his skin and enter his chest wall, he froze.
I took my advantage and pushed the baby home.
There was a sickening squelching sound as the stake slid further in, resting on the edge of his heart. His arms fell away, no longer responding to his commands and he crumpled backwards towards the ground. I went with him, twisting round to face him completely, not letting my grip on the stake release, or the stake move anywhere but further in. Lying on top of him, looking into those red-rimmed glowing eyes, I twisted the stake minutely, feeling the moment it touched the chamber of his heart.
His eyes widened slightly, a look of utter incredulity on them. I smiled and said, “Night, night, Sweetie” as the stake finally sunk home. For an instant, nothing happened and then I was face first in a pile of dust, coughing and choking on vampire residue.
I rolled away, grasping my side, trying to stop the racking coughing from tearing my already tender ribs further apart. Finally after several minutes, I managed to control myself and slowly sat up.
It took a moment for me to get my bearings. There was still a low level humming in my mind, the last of the vamp's Sanguis Vitam seeping into the night, but there was no other indication of power in the vicinity. I took as deep a breath as I could manage, then hauled myself over to the blonde.
She was coming round, groaning. There was a slight mark on her neck, not deep, he hadn't managed to fully penetrate. Thank God. “You'll be all right now,” I said. She opened her eyes and looked at me.
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded, speech a little slurred.
See, here's the thing. When a vamp glazes you with his gaze, he can have you thinking any number of things. Hell, he could make you jump off the Harbour Bridge if he wanted to, but most of the time, they're not that inventive. It's usually a vision of utter happiness, if they're kind, or in Sweetie Pie's case, a feeling that you're drunk and just having a quiet moment in the alley to yourself. Waking up and finding a dishevelled female leaning over you is not the most pleasant of visions, even if you think you're smashed.
I pulled back. “There's a taxi stand down the street by McDonald's,” I said, indicating the direction with a nod of my head. “You fell over, must have been a good night, huh?”
She struggled to her feet, still glaring at me, but started to take a shaky step away. I wanted to reach out and help, but vampire induced psychosis is not something you can easily get involved with. The glazing just doesn't allow it. She'd be all right though, no real harm done.
Me, on the other hand, I ached. From head to toe. I haven't been that badly beaten up for months. This was going to take some getting over.
I dusted down my skirt and straightened my blouse. No rips, cool. And was just reaching for my stake and knife when I heard the humming and felt the low level power of a baby vamp nearby. Only young, less than 50 I'd say. Easy on any ordinary night, but tonight was shaping up to be unusual. You never knew.
I spun around to face it, stake out and knife ready to go. Shane Smith walked round the corner of the alley and stood ten metres away. He smiled his shy smile and thrust his hands deep into his pockets. His shock of white curly hair caught the glint of a street light, his pale features in contrast to his black attire, regular wear for members of Michel's inner circle.
“Hey Shane,” I said as I sheathed my knife and pocketed my stake. “What's up?”
Shane had been turned no less than thirty years ago, by none other than Michel Durand, the Master Vampire of Auckland City. He was now serving his time as Michel's gopher, the vamp who took messages and parcels where they needed to go. He was a weakling, as far as vamps go and always would be. But I liked him, I couldn't help it. I felt sorry for the guy. Who knew you had to give up your soul and live for ever like a doormat when offered life for eternity. He was a sorry excuse for a vampire, but he meant no one any harm.
“The Master wishes to see you,” he said with a small tentative smile.
I sighed. “Now Michel knows I'm not one of his puppets to order around, so why don't you just go and tell your Master that I'm kind of busy tonight.”
“Aww, come on, Luce! Ya know I can't return to him without ya, he'd have me for dinner, he would.”
Unfortunately, as melodramatic as that sounded, he would. Michel might be one of the nice guys, but he was a Master Vampire in charge of a city, albeit a city in the antipodes, he had to be strong and ruthless when it counted. I had no doubt Shane would clob it for my refusal to attend.
Another sigh and another subconscious flattening of my skirt and shirt. “OK, let's go see the Master,” I said as I strode past him into the night.
Read on for the first chapter in Mixed Blessing (MBM, Book 1) in the Mixed Blessing Mystery Series by Nicola Claire:
Chapter 1
Hunger
Hunger licked through me like the flames of Hell; potent and deadly. It had been six days since I last heeded the call. Three days too long. But an eternity too short. I swallowed past the increasing amount of saliva in my mouth and ran my tongue over my too long fangs. Willing them to retract.
Not now. Not here. I promised the Dark Shadow I would feed. But, not from those I worked with. Not here in this place I called home. I'd find a dark alley with some low-life jerk selling drugs to the desperate, then the fire would quieten. Then the Dark Shadow would retreat. Then I could pretend it was all a dream.
Or a nightmare. They are one and the same to me.
My break was nearly over, soon I'd have to face the throngs of humanity on the clubroom floor. Watch the pulses underneath their sweat soaked skin. Smell their life, their blood and fight the urge to strike. I don't hunt at Sensations. Apart from the fact my boss would slice me in two if I did, you just don't dine at work. It's bad for business. I'd have to hunt on the way home and considering my shift doesn't finish until four, the only food left available on the streets is either drunk or stoned.
My face twisted in a grimace at the impending task ahead. I hated what I had become. The only saving grace was that I was good at killing too. Being what I am, meant living a life bridging two worlds. Half one thing, half another. A hybrid, a mixture of two creatures that shouldn't have ever existed. I may have craved blood on a semi-regular basis, but I also never ventured out without my stake. A gift from Lucinda. The only thing I took readily from her. The rest: the advice, the offered help, the kindness, she could keep. I was not a charity case to experiment on. To ease her conscience. I was not here to make her sleep better at night.
If she thought I wasn't capable of killing her, then she wasn't as good at this game as she made out.
I took a deep breath in and squared my shoulders. Then checked myself in the staffroom mirror. Doug, my boss, insists we all wear black. I never used to wear black. I was more of a yellow and green kind of girl. But Sensations has a black dress code for staff. It doesn't matter what you wear as long as it is black. I rebel sometimes. Wear bright coloured bangles, a necklace with a bright logo hanging down between my breasts. Or, like today, bright yellow happy faces hanging from my earrings. They make me gag, but I can tell they have an even bigger effect on Doug and Jett.
Doug runs the bar, he's OK, in a quiet head down kind of way. But Jett scares the hell out of me. He's the Master of the City and you can feel it. I know when he is in the room. I know when he is close. My whole body tingles with the power of his office. The urge to bow and scrape undeniable. Well almost. I fight it. Like I fight Doug. And Lucinda. And Samson. I fight them all, but they put up with me, because Lucinda has told them to. I don't know quite what sort of hold she has over the vampires in this city, but it's big and powerful. It's not that they fear her, it's something else. Something deeper. I don't get it. I don't really want to.
I undid my pony tail and ran my hands through my long blonde, wavy hair. Pulling it back into a tidy tail, fastening it high up on my head. Even tied up it came well past my shoulders. I liked my hair tied back when wearing earrings I needed noticed. The happy faces dangled merrily against my jaw. I studied my face. Pale white. I didn't normally get a tan in
summer, but even if I had tanned in the past, I was turned in the middle of winter. A winter that had followed on from a very wet and uninspiring summer the year before. So, no tan, just a translucent white that coupled with my platinum blonde hair made me look almost albino.
My eyes didn't help. Normally a cerulean blue, when hungry the red creeps in from the edges, tingeing them a strange unnatural purple. At the moment they would be more red than purple, but contact lenses put paid to that. Now they were nothing more than a boring dark, dark blue. You can't hide red with lighter colours, so I have to go dark. It's a tell I hate. Doug knows when I haven't fed for a while, because me eyes are suddenly dark blue instead of light.
I swiped my lips with a bright red lipstick. The colour would draw attention to my full lips and away from my tell-tail eyes. Usually I like people noticing my eyes. They're big and bright and I have been told, beautiful. But no one likes blood-shot eyes, so bright red lips it is.
Brushing my black tank top down and adjusting my black skin tight jeans I pasted a smile on my face and pushed open the staffroom door.
The smell of humans engulfed me and made me suck in an unnecessary breath of air. I paused and struck my hand out against the wall to stop myself from collapsing. I felt so weak in the face of all that life force. So tiny compared to the enormous size of humanity. A fly to be swatted away. A bug to be crushed under a rubber soled boot. I licked my lips, undoubtedly removing some of my well placed lipstick, then shook my head to clear the pounding of heartbeats that had taken up residence in there.
I needed to feed. I needed blood. My eyes closed as I forced those thoughts aside and straightened up to my full height; five foot eight inches, out of heels. I could do this. I could last another two hours in Hell and then break free of the devil's hold for a little longer.
I'd have to sell a little more of my soul to do it. But what's my soul worth in the light of all those innocents?
I pushed the remaining door open that led to the clubroom floor. The thumping music filled my ears immediately, clashing with the heartbeats for a moment and then winning the war. I started humming along to the song: Black Eyed Peas I Gotta Feeling, sinking myself into the music and not the call of the blood.
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