by Dannika Dark
“Aye, but do I care?”
What incensed me wasn’t his cocksure attitude or even that he’d put his hand up my dress. It was the unexpected thrill of how inviting and sensual his hand felt against my thigh, the slow and delicate way his finger slid beneath my panties, the familiarity of his touch—so much so that I had to calm my heart to a steady beat before he picked up on it.
The Vampire kept his black eyes on me, the intensity of his gaze molten. A shadow of rogue whiskers trailed beneath his jaw as if they were trying to escape the flock.
He looped one of the onion rings around his index finger and offered me a sardonic smile. “Perhaps another time, precious. Good luck with the scavenger hunt.”
Chapter 2
I’m not sure why I’d embraced the life of a nomad, but the novelty was wearing thin. It used to be liberating to go anywhere I wanted and not worry about bills, gas, or rent. Immortals didn’t need to trouble themselves with health insurance or wrinkle creams. But living out of a green duffel bag wasn’t a glamorous life, and neither was washing my clothes in a restroom sink because I didn’t have enough coins to operate a washer.
My human life was ancient history, and without being able to use my real name or social security number, I couldn’t get a job even if I tried. My options were limited to the Breed world, where most people held jobs specific to their skills, and I don’t just mean running a business or managing finances. Most Chitahs I knew were trackers because of their acute sense of smell, and I’d heard that Sensors made their money in the business of sensory exchange—buying and selling emotions for cash. I really didn’t know for certain. Despite our differences from humans, it seemed like most people wanted the same things. A secure future, a job, and—depending on your Breed—family. Even if I applied for a job, no one was going to hire a crossbreed. Most people didn’t think someone like me existed. People are afraid of what they don’t understand, so in order to keep a low profile, I lied about my Breed and didn’t make friends.
Being part Mage posed an even greater threat. Each Breed has its own form of government or law, and the Mageri catalogues every Mage legally created. They also require that every new Mage live with his or her Creator until granted their independence. If they found out about me, I could wind up in serious trouble. And I had no idea how Vampire elders ran things, so fear kept me a rogue.
I sat on the back of the toilet tank, my shoes on the seat, staring at my wet dress that hung on the stall hook. Unfortunately, the only hand dryer in the bathroom was broken.
After leaving the Breed bar on an empty stomach, I’d found the nearest human club where I could wash the cheese stain off my dress and relax. Since there weren’t many cars in the parking lot, I figured it would be a good spot to chill for a little while. I’d hidden my duffel bag nearby; most humans thought people carrying large bags into a public place were terrorists. Human clubs were safe places, and unless I instigated a fight, I never had trouble. I still brought one of my push daggers with me just in case; the leg holster was looped around the hook on the door, hidden behind the dress. Most of the weapons I owned were ones I’d taken from my victims—trophies from battle.
I tugged at the frayed threads surrounding the hole in my jeans.
I’d give anything to have a bed right now. To be able to curl up with a blanket over my head until the misery of the Mage’s dark energy left my body, but I had no place to call home. In the summertime, I climbed onto rooftops to sleep under the stars. Any high place I could gain access to felt like home and separated me from the dangers of the city. But tonight the heavy rain would make it difficult to find a dry place to sleep, especially with the storm drains overflowing and flooding the streets.
I never thought I could feel so damn lonely, but the weight of it pressed down with each passing year. I sometimes thought about it in the daytime when people were having lunch with friends or shopping with their children, but the melancholy feeling often struck me in the late hours of the night.
Being a bounty hunter wouldn’t be such a bad gig. But who would hire me? I had no credentials, and if the higher authority figured out who I was and arrested me, I’d have no one to come to my rescue.
Imagining this as my life for the next five centuries was terrifying—no one had prepared me for immortality. But whenever I found myself wallowing in solitude, reality would intrude, reminding me that settling down would only make it easier for a certain someone to find me, and that someone was the reason why I had to keep moving and stay in the shadows.
I rubbed my eyes, staring down at the bathroom tile. The only thing I wanted was to get through the night without any more drama.
“Is it empty?” a man asked in a low register.
I cocked my head, wondering if I’d accidentally wandered into the men’s bathroom. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Someone’s clothes rustled, and a second voice with a scratchy tone answered. “It’s clear. The stalls are empty.”
“I want you to take care of him. He’s not cooperating, and I’ve given him plenty of time to change his mind.” It was a commanding voice, smooth and controlled.
“Don’t you think someone’s going to make a connection?” the second guy asked. “Maybe we should space it apart like the others. Two human club owners in one week—if the higher authority gets wind of it, they’re going to hire someone to investigate.”
“I don’t give a damn,” the first man replied. “It’ll send a message to these humans that I mean business. They can either pay for my protection or risk one of the local gangs torching their club.”
The second guy chortled. “Yeah, but we’re the gang. The new ones always want proof or else they think it’s just a rumor. Why don’t we have a couple of guys go in, rough up the patrons, make threats, and vandalize the place to make it look real?”
“Because we’re dealing with humans, and humans like to involve the police. You’ll end up with witnesses who will ID my men, and that’s too much cleanup. Let me worry about the details. You just do as you’re told.”
“You got it, Darius.”
“Make it clean. No witnesses, no fingerprints, no surveillance cameras. Torch the place.”
“Whatever you say, boss. I need to go pick up some gasoline, but it’ll be done by morning.”
I heard a long, drawn-out sigh before Darius spoke. “They have no right to be here.”
Hinges on the door squeaked, and then it grew quiet. What the hell were these guys doing, messing around with humans?
Footsteps strolled in my direction, and then I heard the sound of unzipping in the stall to my right. The door hadn’t opened again, so I presumed one of the men stayed behind to drain his pipe.
I stayed absolutely silent.
Until my stomach growled like a mountain lion.
I grimaced, hoping he hadn’t heard. But when the stream of urine abruptly stopped, I had only seconds to prepare.
His footsteps retreated, and my door kicked in with a crash.
I smirked at a man with a bad comb-over. “You’re not all that scary.”
Before he could open his mouth, I dove forward and slammed into him. The force of my attack caused him to stumble backward into the sink. He gripped my shoulders and threw a blast of energy into me.
I fell onto my back, energized. Mage energy only worked as a weapon against other Breeds, but throwing your energy into another Mage only juiced them up.
“Ah, shit,” he said, realizing his folly. “You’re supposed to flare in a public place, Mage.”
“Don’t you think that’s an archaic tradition? Seems like I’m not the only one in here who forgot to flare and make their presence known.”
The pungent smell of bathroom soap hung heavy in the air as I rose to my feet to face this idiot. He looked like an out-of-shape mobster in a cheap black suit.
The Mage chewed on his bottom lip as if he couldn’t decide what to do with me. We were in a human club, and that complicated matters. There wasn’t much of
a crowd, but I’m sure in that walnut head of his he was wondering if someone might be able to ID him if he left a corpse in the bathroom. Breed didn’t get involved with human law enforcement, and if he got arrested and his boss found out, he might leave him to rot in a human jail for the next twenty years before breaking him out.
With my shoulders squared, I stood with my weight forward, prepared to fight. “I don’t care about you or your boss, but you’re talking about killing humans, and that’s where it gets personal.”
He snorted. “You’re not even human. What the hell do you care what happens to these termites?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I used to be one? Their lives are short enough; what gives you the right to take it away?”
He smoothed back his stringy hair. “Immortality gives me the right. They’re nothing but parasites, destroying the planet and getting all the power. You’re obviously not old enough to appreciate how insulting it is to live like a cockroach beneath a weaker species.”
“Do you really want to start a war with a species that outnumbers us by the billions? We still haven’t won the war against fire ants.”
The door swung open and we both looked up as two girls breezed in with a jaunty step.
“Get out,” the Mage said. “I’m about to fuck my woman.”
Their eyes swung over to me in surprise.
I shrugged. “Don’t worry, we won’t be long. He never lasts for more than forty-five seconds.”
“Ugh,” one of them groaned as they turned to leave. “Let’s go check out that other place up the street.”
“You didn’t have to say that,” he growled.
Was this guy serious? “Didn’t mean to deflate your ego. I was just under the impression that you didn’t sleep with the parasites you were plotting to exterminate. But maybe you like sleeping with bedbugs.”
I should have moved sooner and put my back against a wall, but faster than a heartbeat, he flashed behind me and shoved me against the sink.
Flashing was a Mage skill I hadn’t acquired, and it made them impossible to catch. Once again, destiny screwed me over.
“Smartass,” he hissed in my ear. “Aren’t you going to beg for your life—for your virtue?”
“I’m just going to beg for you to eat a breath mint,” I ground out.
He kicked my legs open. “Beg.”
That was when I looked up at him in the mirror and flashed a smile, revealing my sharp fangs in the mirror’s reflection. “You first.”
When I caught his startled expression, I shoved back and spun around. His eyes were stupidly transfixed on my fangs, darting between them and my mismatched eyes. Before he could react, I kneed him in the groin.
No matter what his strengths were as a Mage, all men had balls.
He doubled over, grimacing and grunting out a few colorful words. He hunched his shoulders, making it impossible to get a good angle to bite his neck. Kneeing him in the head did the trick.
I dropped to my knees and drove my fangs into his jugular, but before I could draw blood, he punched me in the side three times and threw me off.
“I’m going to teach you some fucking manners,” he snarled, mashing my face against the cold, dirty tile.
I glanced up, my heart banging against my chest as I realized my dagger was out of reach. When he kicked me in the back, it nudged me a little closer to the stall. I crawled on my forearms, pushing back the pain and gathering up my energy.
He gripped my ankle, so I flipped onto my back, twisting my leg out of his grasp. Small spaces limited a Mage from flashing around much, which leveled the playing field since they had to rely on their fighting skills. And as I’d come to find out, not every immortal knew how to fight.
When he came at me, I kicked him in the head, and he fell onto his left side. Once he was down, I executed a maneuver and scissored my legs around his neck, my knees bent, exerting as much force as possible. Before he could throw a punch, I gripped his left arm in a tight lock and then angled my body so my head was out of reach.
He thrashed as I delivered enough force to cut off the circulation above his neck. His knee jerked out a few times, but he couldn’t see where my head was. Then he tried to get up, but he was losing strength with every passing second.
When his body went limp, I didn’t hesitate. I released my hold and fell over him, puncturing into his artery with my fangs and drawing out the blood before he knew what had hit him. After enough swallows, I licked his wound. My Vampire gifts allowed me to change the chemistry in my saliva at will so that I could seal up bite marks left behind on my victims.
I rose to my feet and staggered around him, my stomach churning as his blood made its way down. The thought of having to consume his Mage energy made me tremble with revulsion.
A gust of fresh air blew in when the bathroom door swung open, and an older blonde halted in her tracks. “Oh… Oh my God.”
I glimpsed myself in the mirror and saw blood trickling down my lip.
“He attacked me. Call the police,” I said, panic rising in my voice. I reached in the stall for my dress, folding it over my dagger.
Holy crap, this was a hot mess.
The woman’s fingers were tapping on her phone, dialing a number. A night in the slammer would keep this bozo out of trouble for now, but that meant letting him live another day to commit crimes. What choice did I have?
I bristled at the thought that people would die if I didn’t finish him off, but I needed to get out of there. If the human police arrested me, I wouldn’t have anyone to post my bail. The higher authority kept an eye on all arrests, matching them with Breed aliases and bailing them out within a certain time frame. As a rogue, I didn’t have an alias.
“Hello? We need the police, and… Do you need an ambulance?” she asked me, her eyes brimming with concern.
“No, I’ll drive myself to the hospital,” I said in a hoarse voice, pushing past her. “He beat me up, and he’s drunk. I can’t believe this is happening.” My voice broke as I pretended to cry, and I moved swiftly past her through the club.
Out the door.
Through the rain.
Down the alley.
I ran until I finally collapsed behind a Dumpster, sheltered from the rain by a one-foot overhang and a sympathetic breeze.
Chapter 3
It took me two days to get on my feet again. Not just from consuming vile blood from two thugs, but drinking up dark Mage light. The only place I could find to sleep was inside an abandoned Dumpster in an alley. Since no one was using it for trash disposal, it didn’t smell, but I still had to throw out a few old boards. At least it kept the rain off my head.
In the evenings, rain hammered against the metal lid and kept me awake with only my thoughts to pass the time. When the bruises began to heal up on their own, I ventured out in search of a newspaper, but I didn’t find any articles about a murdered club owner or a building fire.
That Darius guy must have realized that someone knew about his plan, and executing it meant putting himself at risk. His henchman knew what I looked like, so I wasn’t taking any chances with walking the streets in the Breed district.
The rain eventually tapered off and the temperature cooled down, making it the kind of night when you could see a trail of frosty breath on a hurried walk home. I brushed the dirt off my coat and headed to a human diner called Ruby’s. It stood out on the corner of the intersection with its red neon sign. I only came in on Tuesdays because that was when business was slow and Betty worked a double shift. Betty McGuire was seventy-eight, tough as nails, and still dyed her hair red. I had to admire a woman with six grandchildren, two great-grandchildren, and a soft spot for girls like me who didn’t have a place to go.
There was a small parking lot in front and along the right side of the building. The inside had an L-shaped layout since the kitchen was hidden in a room behind the counter. Rotating pie displays and old-fashioned décor added a nostalgic touch. You could either order something to g
o at the front counter or find a seat and have a waitress take your order. There were a few small tables and booths to the left of the door, but usually the only people who used them where those waiting for takeout. Chrome barstools with red vinyl seats ran along the counter, which went to the right and then stretched halfway to the back where the seating area was. Some people liked sitting at the small round tables in the middle, but I preferred the privacy of the booths alongside the windows. Ruby’s was the kind of place you could peacefully sit and enjoy a cup of coffee on a rainy day.
I headed toward the back and chose my favorite booth, shoving my bag beneath the table and against the wall before dusting off the red vinyl seat. Despite how much I loved Ruby’s, it was always a shameful walk to the back. I felt like a stray dog with its tail between its legs, coming in to beg for scraps.
Betty spotted me from behind the counter and waved. She deserved a gold star for heroism, and I hoped her children appreciated her half as much as I did. She always brought me a hot meal, whether I wanted it or not, and took it out of her own paycheck. Knowing that, I only came in as a last resort.
Fifteen minutes later, my stomach was doing a happy dance. Steam rose from my coffee cup as I finished off my last chicken strip, and I turned my attention out the window, watching two birds splashing around in a puddle.
When someone entered the diner, I glanced up at a silver-haired fox of a man walking through the door. He looked old enough to be my father. His hair, combed back in a soft wave, had dark grey undertones that gave him even more character. His beard was nicely groomed, longer around the chin and mouth area. I often wondered what I would have looked like as an older woman if I hadn’t stopped aging at twenty-five.
The busboy collected the dishes off a nearby table and loaded them onto a cart. When he disappeared into the kitchen, the older gentleman headed in my direction—no detours, no rest stops.