“I’ll try to limit myself to an hour,” Ian replied with a straight face.
“Pig,” I couldn’t help but mutter. Hey, I’d tried to rein myself in! If vampires could still get diseases, I’d wish a festering case of herpes on him, but I suppose it was a good thing that Ian’s ability to carry or transmit STDs died with his humanity.
Ian left, chuckling to himself the whole time.
Bones’s arm slid across my shoulders, his fingers stroking my flesh along the way. I’d worn the backless halter dress, because I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist that bare expanse of skin, and I was right. Heat spilled over my emotions in its own caress as Bones dropped his shields so I could access his feelings. The tie that existed between us wasn’t only forged in love. It was also the blood-deep, eternal link between a vampire and their sire. Bones had changed me from a half-vampire into a mostly-full one, and ever since, I could tap into his emotions like they were an extension of my own. There had been some serious drawbacks to my changing over, but I’d do it again just to have that level of intimacy between us.
Of course, that wasn’t the only undead perk. The ability to heal instantly, fly, and mesmerize people didn’t suck, either.
“Do you know how lovely you look?” he asked, his voice deepening in timber. Hints of glowing green appeared in his dark brown eyes, a visual cue of his appreciation.
I leaned in to whisper my reply. “Tell me later, when everyone’s gone.”
His laugh was low and promising. “That I will, Kitten.”
We went into the next room, where a pile of presents awaited. Vampires had been called many things, but “stingy” usually wasn’t among them. Bones had barely made a dent in opening his gifts before his cell phone rang. He glanced at the number with a chuckle.
“Ian, don’t tell me you and Annette are too occupied to return,” he said in lieu of a hello.
Supernatural hearing meant that I picked up every word of Ian’s clipped reply.
“You need to get over here. Now.”
Once Burned: A Night Prince Novel
An excerpt from Once Burned, the first book in the new Night Prince series.
Available March 27, 2012.
Excerpt
I faced my captors in what looked to be a hotel room, my hands folded in my lap as if I was placing a dinner order and they were waiters. If you ever meet another vampire, don’t panic. You’ll only smell like prey, Marty had warned me. I knew what my captors were after seeing their eyes turn glowing green. That was why I didn’t bother lying when they asked me how I doubled as an electric eel and had the ability to siphon information through touch. If I lied, they’d only use the power in their gaze to make me tell the truth – or do whatever else they wanted – and I didn’t want to give them any more control over me than they already had.
I also didn’t try to run even though they hadn’t tied me up. Most people didn’t know vampires existed, let alone what they could do, but because of my ability to pick up information through touch, I’d known about vampires years before I met Marty. My abilities meant I knew all sorts of things I wished I didn’t.
Like the fact that my captors had every intention of killing me; that topped the list of things I wished I didn’t know at the moment. I’d seen my death after being forced to touch the auburn-haired vampire again, and it was an image that made me want to clutch my neck while backing away screaming.
I didn’t. Guess I should be grateful that my unwanted abilities meant I’d experienced so many horrible deaths; I could look at my impending execution with a morbid sort of relief. Getting my throat ripped out would hurt – I’d relived that through other people enough times to know – but it wasn’t the worst way to die. Besides, nothing was set in stone. I’d seen a glimpse of my possible future, but I’d managed to prevent Jackie’s murder. Maybe I could find a way to prevent my own.
“So let me get this straight,” Auburn Hair said, drawing the words out. “You touched a downed power line when you were thirteen, nearly died, and then later, your body began giving off electric voltage and your right hand divined psychic impressions from whatever you touched?”
More had happened, but it wasn’t information I wanted to reveal and he wouldn’t care about those details anyway.
“You experienced the voltage part yourself,” I said with a shrug. “As for the other, yeah, if I touch something, I get impressions off it.” Whether I want to or not, I silently added.
He smiled then, his gaze roving over the thin, jagged scar that was the visible remains of my brush with death. “What did you see when you touched me?”
“Past or future?” I asked, grimacing at either memory.
He exchanged an interested look with his buddies. “Both.”
How I would love to lie, but I didn’t need psychometric abilities to know if they doubted me, I’d be dead in moments.
“You like eating children.” The words made bile rise in my throat that I swallowed before continuing. “And you’re intending to drink me to death if I don’t prove useful to you.”
His smile widened, showing the tips of his fangs as he didn’t deny either charge. If I hadn’t seen similar menacing, fanged grins through the eyes of people I’d been psychically linked to, I would have been pants-pissing terrified, but a jaded part of me simply acknowledged him for what he was: evil. And I was no stranger to evil, much as I wished otherwise.
“If she’s the real deal like we heard, it could give us the edge we’ve been looking for,” his brunet companion muttered.
“I think you’re right,” Auburn Hair drawled.
I didn’t want to die, but there were some things I wouldn’t do even if it cost me my life. “Ask me to help you kidnap children, and you may as well start in on my neck now.”
Auburn Hair laughed with what appeared to me genuine mirth. “I can do that on my own,” he assured me, making my stomach lurch with revulsion. “What I want you for is more…complicated. If I bring you objects to touch, can you tell me about their owner? Such as what he’s doing, where he is, and most importantly, where he will be?”
I didn’t want to do anything to help this disgusting, murderous group, but my choices were grim. If I refused, I’d get mesmerized into doing it anyway, or get tortured into doing it, or die choking on my own blood because I was of no use to them. Maybe this was my chance to better my circumstances and change the fate they intended for me.
Why do you want to? a dark inner voice whispered. Aren’t you sick of drowning in other people’s sins? Isn’t death your only way out ?
I glanced at my wrist, the faint scars that had nothing to do with my electrocution marking my skin. One time, I’d listened to that despairing inner voice, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit part of me was still tempted by it. But then I thought of Marty, how grieved my aunts would be, how I hadn’t told my dad I loved him the last time we spoke, and finally, how I didn’t want to give these bastards the satisfaction of killing me.
My head came up and I met the leader’s gaze. “My abilities are tied to my emotions. Abuse me mentally or physically, and you’ll have better luck calling a psychic hotline to find out what you want to know. That means no murdering anyone while I’m getting information for you, and no touching me at all.”
That last part I said because of the lustful look the brunet had been giving me. My skintight body suit didn’t leave much to the imagination, but it was what I trained in. I hadn’t expected to be kidnapped today or I’d have worn something more conservative.
“Don’t think you can mesmerize me into forgetting whatever you do, either,” I added, waving my right hand. “Psychic impressions, remember? I’ll touch you or an object nearby and find out, and then your human crystal ball will be broken.”
All the above was bullshit. They could do anything they wanted and I’d still pull impressions from whatever my right hand touched, but I’d used my most convincing tone while praying that for once, I’d prove to be a good liar.
&nbs
p; Auburn Hair flashed his fangs at me in another of his scary smiles. “I think we can manage that, if you deliver what you say you can.”
I smiled back with nothing close to humor. “Oh, I can deliver, all right.”
Then I glanced at the light socket behind him. And that’s not all I can do. The horrible accident that had forever altered my life had left me with one more ability, and if I was lucky, that ability would save me.
* * *
Auburn-Haired’s name was Jackal, according to what his friends called him. Their names sounded equally made up, so I mentally referred to them as Pervert, Psycho, and Twitchy since the latter couldn’t seem to hold still for a second. Twitchy and Pervert went out over an hour ago to get some things for me to touch. I’d spent that time sitting on the edge of the hotel’s lumpy mattress, listening to Jackal talk on his cell phone in a language I didn’t recognize. I was getting chilly in my leotard, but I didn’t pull the covers over me. All my instincts were urging me to stay still and not attract any attention to myself, as if that mattered. The predators in this room were very aware of me even if they didn’t glance in my direction.
When Pervert and Twitchy came back, I looked at the duffel bag they carried with a mixture of dread and optimism. What was inside might lead to more grisly images blasting across my mind, but it would also ensure my safety. Until I proved I could psychically spy on whoever it was they wanted to find, I was as good as dead.
“Put the objects in a row on the bed,” I directed Twitchy, ignoring the startled look he gave me. If I acted like a pitiful damsel in distress, then that’s how they’d treat me. But if I acted like a vital tool in their search for whomever they wanted these objects to lead them to, I upped my chances for survival.
At least, I hoped I did.
“Do it,” Jackal said, folding his arms across his chest. His stare felt like weights dropping onto me, but I took in several deep breaths and tried to ignore him. Seeing what Twitchy took out of the duffel bag helped with that.
A charred piece of fabric, a partially-melted watch, a ring, something that looked like a belt, and a knife that shone with a distinct silvery gleam.
That last item made my heart skip a beat, something I hoped the others chalked up to nervousness instead of what it was. Excitement. Marty told me the movies had it all wrong when it came to vampires. Wooden stakes wouldn’t harm them, nor would sunlight, crosses, or holy water. But silver through the heart meant the party was over, and now I had a silver knife within grabbing distance.
Not yet, I warned myself. I’d wait until they were so convinced I was helpless that they wouldn’t think twice about leaving a silver knife within easy reach. Or until at least two of them left again, whichever came first.
“All right,” Jackal said, snapping my gaze back to him. He nodded at the objects. “Do your thing.”
I mentally braced myself and then picked up the charred piece of fabric first.
Smoke was everywhere. Twin beams of light cut through it, landing on the vampire half concealed by the forklift. Terror flooded him as he realized he’d been spotted. Tied into his emotions, I shuddered as well, feeling his horror as his attempt to run was stopped short and rough hands hauled him back.
At first the smoke was so thick I couldn’t see past the bright gaze lasered on me. Then I saw dark hair framing a lean face that had the shadow of stubble around the jaw and mouth. That mouth stretched into a smile that wasn’t cruel, as I’d expected, but looked surprisingly good-humored.
“Raziel,” the dark-haired stranger said in a chiding tone. “You shouldn’t have.”
I’d heard parents scold their children more harshly, so I didn’t expect the torrent of fear that flooded over Raziel.
“Please,” he gasped.
“Please?” The stranger laughed, revealing white teeth with two distinct upper fangs. “How unoriginal.”
Then he let Raziel go, turning around and waving farewell in a friendly manner. I felt relief overwhelm me to the point that my knees trembled, but Raziel didn’t let that stop him. He lunged toward the warehouse door.
That’s when the fire swarmed him, forming out of nowhere. It climbed up his legs in coiling, merciless bands, making me scream from the sudden blast of agony. Raziel tried to run faster, but that only made the fire climb higher. He flung himself onto the floor next, rolling, every nerve ending howling with anguish, but the fire still didn’t extinguish. It kept growing, covering him with ruthless, hungry waves, until a roaring blackness rushed up and consumed him. The last thing Raziel saw as he floated above his lifeless body was the dark-haired vampire still walking away, his hands now lit up by flames that somehow didn’t scorch his skin.
I blinked in disbelief. When my eyes opened, I was back in the hotel room curled into the fetal position, much like Raziel had been when he died. I must have instinctively mimicked his actions with the memory of those phantom flames.
“Well?” Jackal’s demanding voice was a relief because it centered me in reality instead of the nightmare I’d been forced to relive. “What did you see?”
I righted myself on the bed and threw the charred piece of fabric at him.
“I saw someone named Raziel get Krispy Kremed by a vampire who apparently can control fire,” I said, still trying to shake off the echoes of that gruesome death.
The four of them exchanged a look that could only be described as delighted. “Jackpot!” Psycho exclaimed, pumping his fists into the air.
From how happy they were, I guessed that either Raziel hadn’t been a friend or they already knew what had happened to him and this had been a test.
“Let’s be a hundred percent sure,” Jackal said, his grin fading. “Touch the ring next.”
I looked at it with dread. It probably contained the essence from another death, but unless I wanted to hasten my own, I had no choice.
I picked it up, tensing in grim expectation, but a scattershot of images I’d already seen filled my mind. They were still revolting enough to make me want to vomit, but in addition to being in the grayish colors of the past, they felt fainter, like I was watching a movie instead of experiencing them firsthand. With a shake of my head to clear it, I set the ring back down by Jackal.
“Maybe you made a mistake. The only impressions I’m picking up off this are yours, and they don’t tell me anything new.”
His hazel eyes gleamed emerald for a second, and then he let out a loud whoop that made me flinch.
“It’s not a fluke, she’s for fucking real!”
Anything that thrilled a sadistic child murderer freaked me out, but I tried not to let it show. Don’t panic, Marty had said. Prey panics, and then prey gets eaten.
“On to the next one?” I asked, trying to sound as cool and collected as I could under the circumstances.
They stopped their high-fiving to look at me. “Yeah,” Jackal said, pushing the knife toward me. His excitement was almost palpable. “Only this time, I want you to concentrate on the firestarter. Try to see where the bastard is, not just what happened when he butchered Neddy.”
That told me the knife would make me relive another murder, but that wasn’t what made me pause before reaching for it.
“The firestarter?” I repeated. “He’s who you want me to find through these objects?”
Are you out of your minds? I almost added, but didn’t because even if they were, I wasn’t.
“You can do it, right?” Jackal asked, all mirth wiping from his expression.
Sure I could, but I didn’t want to. I doubted the firestarter was a friend; Jackal calling him a bastard in that contemptuous tone plus wanting me to find where he was in the future smacked of nefarious intentions. Anyone smart would avoid being on the same continent as that creature if they were at odds, yet Jackal and the others must be trying to ambush him. The memory of the firestarter’s charming smile right before he burned Raziel to a heap of smoldering ruins was something I wanted to forget. But if I refused to look for him, I wouldn’t live
long enough to worry about forgetting anything.
Any way you cut it, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or, more accurately, between a fang and a sharp place.
I reached for the silver knife without another word. With that single touch, the grayish images from a vampire named Neddy’s death invaded my consciousness. No surprise that the firestarter was the one who killed him, using the knife after some preliminary toasting. Also no shock was that he did it with the same sort of detached geniality he’d shown Raziel. I pushed past the searing pain I felt, past the feeling of Neddy floating into whatever awaited people after death, and focused on the firestarter, trying to see him now instead of only then.
This part was harder. In highly emotional situations, everyone left a piece of their essence onto objects, but the firestarter hadn’t been worked up over killing Neddy so only a smidgeon of his remained on the knife. Still, detached or not, nothing tied two people closer together than death. Something about the door to the other world cracking open made essences merge and imprint more strongly, so once I pushed past the seething remains of Neddy’s rage and fear, I felt the firestarter’s distinct essence. It was only as big as a thread, but I wrapped all my concentration around it and pulled.
Black and white images were replaced with full color clarity. Instead of the dingy riverfront setting where Neddy had met his end, I saw opulent drapes surrounding me. At first I thought I was in a small room, but then I realized the midnight green drapes hung around a large bed, cocooning it. The firestarter lay in the center of it, fully clothed, his eyes closed as though he were asleep.
Gotcha, I thought, torn between relief and dismay at finding him in what I knew was the present.
I’d only seen him before through the grayish tones of past memories, so I took my time studying him now. At first, he looked like a normal, well-built man in his thirties, but then hints of his uniqueness showed. His espresso-colored hair was past his shoulders – longer than most men dared, but on him it somehow looked supremely masculine. Black pants and an indigo shirt draped over muscles that appeared far harder than a gym membership usually accounted for, and though no flames clung to his hands, they were crisscrossed with scars that looked like former battle wounds. His high cheekbones were accented by stubble somewhere between five o’clock shadow and a beard, yet instead of coming across as unkempt, it was rugged and enticing. I hadn’t seen a man pull that look off so well since Aragorn in Lord of the Rings, and his eyes…
Halfway to the Grave Page 43