Violet Abyss (A Blushing Death Novel Book 7)

by Suzanne M. Sabol

  “Like a birthday party? Do you wear little hats?” I asked, straining to keep a straight face. I evidently failed because Gold Pants’ mouth turned down in a sneer and she dropped her right shoulder.

  “May I remind you that we’re out numbered?” Garrett growled through gritted teeth.

  “Details. Details, Garrett. You worry too much,” I answered in an easy singsong tone.

  “You should listen to your friend, little girl,” a third vampire said. He was large and bulky to the point that his neck disappeared into his shoulders.

  “Well, you know what? If I listened to all the people who told me they were going to cut my heart out, or break my bones, or cut off my head, I wouldn’t have any fun,” I said, meeting the vampire’s gaze. I grinned, letting my monster peek out. “Plus, I know something you don’t,” I answered.

  Another vampire shifted on my right. Medium height and build, he blended in with average brown eyes and hair. He was generally forgettable with the exception of the high-pitched nasal voice that asked the inevitable question, “What’s that?”

  I glanced around, assessing my odds. In addition to the pudgy bastard, Gold Pants, the Hulk, the pretty pony, and the unexpected soprano we had a tall Middle Eastern guy, Pakistani I thought, with broad shoulders and a perpetual five o’clock shadow. His long Roman nose accented his perfect profile against dark almond skin, onyx black hair and soft full lips that-if I had been available—were totally kissable. To the Pakistani’s right was a true ginger. Bright red hair the color of fire was pulled back and away from a pale face covered in freckles that hadn’t seen the sun in more years than I’d been alive. She was voluptuous in a Rubenesque way that you only saw in Renaissance paintings. With wide, full hips and large breasts, she seemed too feminine to be dangerous. But I never underestimated a woman. Completing the circle was a dwarf, ebony skin with bright white eyes that peered out at our little circle with lips curled up in a grimace that was surprisingly threatening.

  I pulled Gladi from the sheath down my back, unable to use the Smith and Wesson in a crowd. The shots would attract the cops in a hurry and we needed time to get the hell out of sight. I smiled, letting the quiet of my monster shimmer behind my eyes. “We only need to kill seven of you. One of you gets to live.”

  All at once, they rushed us.

  Chapter 5

  Ev stepped forward and collided with Gold Pants. He tackled her around the middle, wrapping his arms around her ribs and using his momentum and weight to take her to the ground. Booker corralled the dwarf and the Hulk. Booker and the big guy circled each other, sizing up the other as the dwarf hopped from foot to foot egging the larger man on. Miguel, who had been relatively silent, drew the pudgy bastard away, throwing a punch that landed straight into the breadbox of the asshole’s center. Garrett cornered the ginger and the surprising soprano. He stepped forward, rounding to the left of the ginger so their backs were to me. That left me with the pretty pony and the Pakistani.

  “I guess that just leaves us,” I said. Somewhere off in the back of my mind, the soft rumble of the crowd grew louder as they gathered to watch the collision.

  “I wonder,” the Pakistani said, stepping forward to my right with a confident gate. “Does your blood taste of sunshine like I’ve heard?”

  “I haven’t heard that one before. And considering the few that have tasted my blood are either dead or in my bed, I think that one might be an urban legend.”

  The pretty pony stepped to my left on silent feet, believing she was underestimated and unseen in comparison to the larger vampire. I kept her in my peripheral vision as she inched closer, her fangs bared.

  “Let’s have a taste.” The Pakistani’s mouth twisted into a menacing snarl. As he met my gaze, the pretty pony used the distraction to make her move.

  I dropped to one knee and rolled under her, soaking my ass through my jeans with the putrid water of a puddle. I came to my feet in one smooth motion and glared at her. “Now, that wasn’t nice.”

  The Pakistani dropped his shoulders and both vampires hurdled toward me. I swung Gladi out, slicing up through the man’s jacket and shirt. The scent of blood filled my nose as I threw my left hand down and across the pretty pony’s cheek, back handing her hard enough to make her stumble as blood flew from her mouth.

  Behind me, the grunts of aggression and the thumping impact of flesh on flesh let me know that the fight was in full swing.

  “God damn it,” Garrett snarled.

  “You bit me,” Ev cried in an almost disbelieving tone. “What the hell, dude?”

  “Wrap it up, guys!” I shouted, having way too much fun for my own good. We were running out of time and I knew it was only a matter of moments before the sirens I heard off in the distance made their way to us. Then it would be too late.

  “As my mistress wishes,” Booker grunted as he tackled both vampires to the ground and began pummeling their faces. He quickly snapped the neck of the Hulk, leaving only the dwarf to contend with. A chore he quickly dispatched.

  Ev had Gold Pants pinned and shoved up with the palm of his hand, sending the nasal cartilage up into her brain. I’d taught him that one.

  As the sounds of fighting died to a few grunts and groans, I spun and kicked out with my foot, planting the heel of my foot into her gut, sending her soaring and into the side of a building. As the Pakistani closed in on me, I twisted Gladi in the palm of my hand and clutched her handle for a backhanded grip. I dropped to a crouching position and swept his feet out from under him as he ran at me. The burly vampire fell backward onto his ass, landing hard with a grunt of surprise.

  I pounced on him, shoving Gladi’s blade underneath his chin and forced him down to the ground until he was staring up at me with wide, surprised eyes. Magic coursed up my arm from Gladi’s desire to shed blood. I almost felt bad that she wouldn’t get a taste of his arrogant ass.

  Miguel had drained the pudgy bastard and slit the throat of the pretty pony for me. I was a little disappointed that he’d taken the kill from me. So was Gladi, but I had been occupied trying to keep this one alive. Not killing was hard.

  Glancing down at the Pakistani, I smiled, a grisly flash of teeth. “Look around you,” I hissed. “They’re all dead, except you. As promised.”

  “We’ll recover what was Ciro’s,” he bit out, neck straining away from Gladi.

  “I’ll kill you next time, count on it. Booker!” I called out.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he cooed, the pleasure of being asked to help evident in his tone.

  A crowd of chattering tourists had surrounded us, cell phones out and snapping pictures and video. It wouldn’t be long before streaming video files of murder were splashed across the internet. I could see the headlines now, ‘GANG SLAUGHTER IN THE QUARTER’. I needed to avoid that at all costs and luckily, I had the perfect weapon. Booker.

  Most vampires had some kind of hypnosis ability. Patrick could make a person perfectly okay with a man drinking their blood, eliminating their fear and hesitation. The person still knew what they were doing, they were just more comfortable doing it. Booker, on the other hand. Booker was another breed altogether. He could make a group of 200 people believe that they’d just seen a unicorn shit rainbows in the middle of Times Square and that it happened every damned day. It had given me the creeps at first, but it was growing on me. That shit was useful.

  “Dahlia?” Ev called from a few feet behind me. His heat thrummed, a constant comfort at my back. Evidently, it was time to go. I hopped to my feet and re-sheathed Gladi down my spine.

  Booker’s vampiric power tickled as it skittered across my skin. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed our little show. Please erase all video, picture, and sound recordings from your mobile and electronic devices. You don’t remember seeing anything that happened in this square this evening and only remember havi
ng a very wonderful time. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  One after another pulled out their phones and deleted files. As far as his voice and power carried, people would be deleting pictures and video.

  “Time to go,” Garrett hollered as he ushered Booker away toward Bourbon Street.

  Miguel followed as Ev turned to me. I grabbed his jacket and hauled him with me as the rhythmic flash of blue and red lights lit up the brick of the buildings surrounding the square. They may have called the cops when the fight broke out but they wouldn’t remember seeing anything. Thank you, Booker!

  We mingled into the crowd, making our way back through the French Quarter when the cops finally showed up. But it was too late. We were already gone.

  Chapter 6

  The overtly elegant room reeked of the sweet scent of flowers. Vases of fresh hydrangeas, roses, and lilacs graced every flat surface, making the entire sitting room seem more like a florist shop than a place where people lived. It seemed like overkill to me but I didn’t subscribe to the stereotypical feminine need to make things beautiful. I dealt in death and gore. I appreciated the curve of a beautifully sculpted blade, or the sound of my Smith and Wesson booming. Besides, the flowers didn’t hide anything. Underneath every floral scent, the faint metallic odor of blood and the ripe signature of death still lingered. No matter how hard they tried, vampires just couldn’t hide what they were. I wasn’t even sure why they tried. This woman, Raine, was trying awfully fucking hard to make me believe she was human and harmless.

  I sat on the edge of a settee I was sure was a few hundred years old and had probably had Napoleon’s lily-white ass perched upon it. It was uncomfortable. Hell, I was uncomfortable. It was like being in a museum and I was afraid to touch anything. Patrick, however, lounged gracefully on the stupid piece of antique furniture on my right. His legs were crossed in a perfect pose of unconcerned relaxation. Dean stood rigid and just as uncomfortable as I was at the entrance to the sitting room; a set of tall, gilded double doors scraping the ceiling’s height of more than 12 feet.

  Sitting in a ridiculously tiny and ornate chair, Isidro watched. With his elbows resting lazily on the arms, he tented his fingers before his full lips. For an evil bastard, he was a good-looking man. I hated to admit it but there it was. He hadn’t changed much since the last time I’d seen him, standing over Nova’s decomposing corpse. His shoulder-length, black-as-night hair was swept flawlessly over one shoulder. His chestnut brown eyes danced with what appeared to be excitement and I couldn’t help the feeling of being cornered.

  Raine sat primly in a matching settee across from us. Dark, curly hair streamed down her back. Her dark eyes shone with what I could only describe as wariness. They were the perfect match to Patrick’s. It was as if the Black King and Black Queen on a chess set sat across from each other. It was a little unnerving to be honest.

  She sat in a sleek dark-navy dress that accentuated her curves and cut low enough to see the soft, white mounds of the tops of her breasts peeking out. My boobs were way too big to pull that look off but I wasn’t jealous. I made sure I had the proper support. Engaging in a sword fight and trying to keep your boobs in check really just led to bad things happening or losing a nipple and I sure as hell didn’t want to do that. I liked my nipples right where they were, thank you. So did Patrick and Dean.

  Lounging on the floor with her legs folded behind her, a beautiful woman lay with her head in Raine’s lap. Her deep auburn hair fell down her back in soft waves that stylists trained for years to perfect. Her bright green eyes shown with predatory glee as she watched us. The woman’s crimson lips turned up at the corner as she met my gaze. She smelled off. She was definitely not human. A were . . . something. But what?

  She turned those bright, almost glowing, green eyes to Patrick and then Dean. The glint of the hunt remained but as she arched her back to push her ample chest forward, I saw the gleam of sex in her gaze and smelled the overt scent of her arousal. I heard a soft growl vibrate in response and wasn’t really surprised to realize the warning came from my own throat. My wolf didn’t like our territory being encroached upon.

  “Savannah,” Raine chastised in a soft French lilt that was both flirtatious and not at all chastising.

  “I want him,” Savannah purred in a slow southern drawl that was sultry in a way that made me instantaneously jealous. I didn’t like feeling jealous. Heat radiated across my cheeks and I knew my eyes shone silver.

  “He’s taken,” I snapped.

  “Maybe yes, maybe no,” Savannah drawled with a slow, sexy smile. “Let him decided.”

  “My dear, if you are so secure in your beau’s affections, Savannah’s advances shouldn’t be such a threat.” Raine’s voice was light and condescending.

  My fingernails extended, hardening as they transformed into silver claws. I could reach across and slit her throat with one quick swipe.

  “He smells like power.” Savannah almost purred with a deep intake of breath before she turned her gaze from me to Dean and rose swiftly and elegantly to her feet. Sauntering across the room, her hips swaying with invitation, she bypassed me and Patrick, and sidled up to Dean.

  I went rigid as I clenched my hand, digging my claws into my palm. Patrick’s hand softly skimmed down my spine, reminding me he was there. It didn’t matter. Blood flew through my veins, pumping into my ears until all I could hear was the roar of rage as image after image of her skanky fingers touching Dean filled my head.

  “Raine,” Patrick interrupted, sliding his hand across my back before resting it along the back of the settee. “Is it your pet’s intention to insult my Warda?” His voice was smooth and unconcerned but his tone was pure steel.

  Raine’s sharp gasp of surprise was a soft echo in the background as the world zeroed down to me and that bitch.

  I rose, slowly and silently. Patrick’s hand slid down over the curve of my ass as I got to my feet but he didn’t try to stop me. He’d said to shed blood, be ruthless if necessary. It was abso-fucking-lutely necessary to cut that bitch.

  Reaching behind me, I drew Gladi from the sheath strapped to my back. The sword hummed with the magic housed for centuries but was silent as death as it skimmed the leather sheath. I wanted the woman dead but in the back of my mind and through the green haze of jealousy, I knew I shouldn’t kill her. SHOULDN’T.

  Shouldn’t. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. These were all very different things.

  I caught Dean’s olive green eyes as Savannah approached him. The corner of his mouth turned up in a pleased little smirk. His wolf was still buried, seeing no threat from Savannah as I approached her from behind. He loved when I got territorial.

  She reached for him, her long fingers grazing the curve of his face. Dean caught her wrist but it was too late. That bitch had touched what belonged to me and I couldn’t let that stand. I took one step forward, reached for Savannah’s arm, and spun her on her heels. As she met my gaze, I sunk Gladi deep into her gut. The blade ate up the violence, drinking down the energy from the werebeast. I smiled, a cold and merciless gleam lighting me from the inside out.

  Savannah’s eyes grew wide as she glanced from me down to the sword sticking out of her middle. Coughing up blood, she sunk to her knees. With my free hand, I extended the silver claw on my index finger, slowly. Savannah watched with astonishment and fear. Skimming my claw across the soft skin along the bottom of her jaw, I drew blood. She was powerful, whatever she was, but silver would still scar. She’d remember messing with me for the rest of her life, however long that may be.

  “Just remember,” I snarled. “I could have killed you. You grace this Earth because of my mercy.”

  “You’re weak,” Savannah spat as blood trickled from her mouth.

  “No,” I said, drawing Gladi from her middle.

  She hunched over on her hands and knees, blood and bile choking
her until it splattered in a pool of putrid goo on the parquet floor.

  “I’m smarter than you,” I finished

  “Bravo,” Isidro cried, getting to his feet.

  “That will never come out,” Raine sighed with a small pout pursing her lips.

  I glanced at her and couldn’t hide the disgust from my face. I just didn’t understand women like Raine. Actually, I didn’t understand a lot of women. Men, I understood. Women, not so much.

  Isidro cleared his throat. “Please, sit. We have much to discuss.”

  I reached down and grabbed the hem of Savannah’s violet cotton dress and wiped Gladi clean before sliding her back in her sheath. “What is there to discuss, Isidro? We’ve already been insulted and I have no patience for your silly power plays.”

  “Oh, my dear, there is a whole world of things to talk of. Come,” he said, extending his arm to me.

  I ignored his gesture. My blood was still pumping ferociously and filling my body with adrenaline. Plus, Gladi wanted more. I couldn’t blame her. I wanted to give the sword the violence she craved. I had really thought about killing Savannah.

  I sat back down on the settee as Patrick rose, meeting Isidro’s gaze. Dean stepped over Savannah, still bleeding on the floor, and strode to the window.

  “Would you care for some tea, perhaps a cake or cucumber sandwich?” Isidro asked, ignoring the sharp glare from Raine.

  I wasn’t sure if she was upset about Isidro being so attentive, Savannah’s injuries, or the now bloody carpet. I didn’t care either.

  “Sure, tea would be great.” It was strange, the casual but formal interplay of etiquette. It was almost as if I was sitting in another period. Sometimes, that was the problem with the really old preternatural beings, they got stuck in a time period. By the looks of this sitting room and the tea service, I was betting on the late 18th or early 19th century. Who served cucumber sandwiches anymore?