by C. L. Quinn
Another
Day
C.L.Quinn
Blak Kat Publishing
October 2015
All rights reserved
Prologue
American women were exceptional. Xavier had only been in the states a few dozen times in recent centuries, and only for brief, intense events that involved protecting his race. He’d never come here strictly to enjoy himself and play. Now, tonight…he was here to play.
The oversized man had his hands full. Three lovely women graced the huge bed in this recently renovated hotel room. One was busy right now with a skilled tongue, and he threw his head back against a firm pillow. His eyes closed, he allowed himself full emersion in the experience. The orgasm that came a few minutes later as her mouth closed around him once more made him grin. Ah, yes, twelve seconds of heaven.
In over a thousand years of life, he’d never gotten bored with that. He never would.
When a second pretty woman crawled over top of the first to grab him, he grinned wider.
“Lassie, there’s plenty to go around,” he told her when she pushed the first girl aside.
“Aye,” she said, mocking his Scottish accent. “But it’s my turn and I’ve been patient. I’ve got mad skills, buddy.”
She attacked him with fervor and he had to agree, her skills were indeed mad.
He’d taken care of all three of the ladies before they left tonight, happily satisfied, but compelled to forget this ménage à quatre. All of the girls had come, willingly, with no compulsion, but they’d glimpsed his vampire nature, and there had been some erotic blood draws, so he couldn’t allow them to remember what might have been one of the best nights of their life.
The women gone, Xavier left the hotel to enjoy a final walk on this pleasant night. Downtown Boston had been very hospitable. He’d have to do it again sometime soon. After the past two weeks, America might be his new favorite country for this beloved activity.
His hands in his pockets, relaxed, he’d have to head to the airport shortly to catch his private flight home to France.
Xavier heard the report only a fraction of a second before a bullet slammed into his forehead, and he went down.
LATER THAT WEEK
Claude couldn’t believe his luck. How many people have the chance to kill their enemy…over and over again?
In his delight, he had set up the perfect torture chamber, equipped it with a comfortable recliner, a high definition camera, a huge refrigerator for food and alcohol, and a wide-screen television for playback of some of his inspiring video for when the mood struck him.
For most of the past year, he’d been quiet, stayed off the radar, left no clue for anyone of his whereabouts. She would have been looking for him, have a team of experts searching cities, CCTV feeds, the internet, anything at all that might have let her know where he was, but she’d never found him. He had fallen off the grid and planned to stay there…until he saw this asshole vampire here in Boston.
Although he’d been so careful to remain unfound, this, the chance for sweet vengeance, he couldn’t have passed up for a chance to meet God himself. It hadn’t been his plan to abduct the fucking Scot when he shot him to death late one night on the quiet city street. Once he’d emptied the pistol, killed the motherfucker, and stood smiling over the dying man, he’d just known…it wasn’t satisfying enough.
So after another emptied clip, eight bullets in Xavier’s brain, he’d taken the vampire to his basement apartment to cut off his head. To make certain that he would be dead forever.
Claude grinned. Good times!
Of course, the bastard vampire was still much more powerful than Claude, who, although vampire too, was only a year old. Even forcing Tamesine to convert him, he was still only a made vampire. Xavier, born vampire and a thousand years ancient, had powers Claude would never know. In this case, it didn’t matter as long as Claude killed him completely with beheading before he woke up from the too temporary bullets in the brain death.
Carrying a big ax to finish the job, he’d rounded a corner in the basement room he’d claimed. But Xavier was not lying on the concrete, bleeding out, as he had been moments ago.
Oh, motherfuck!
Carefully, Claude worked his way over to a table across the room where he’d left his 9 mil automatic. It was the only thing that leveled the field, at least a little, with a vampire as powerful as a first blood. It still pissed Claude off that first bloods had abilities of extraordinary power that he would never have.
Don’t get distracted, you jealous twit, he thought, as he moved around the basement in search of his target. He’d be lucky Xavier didn’t freeze him and behead him before he even saw the fucker. His best bet? Get the fuck out of there before that happened.
The gun in hand now, arms locked, ready to fire at anything that moved, Claude slowly reached the stairs and started to move up them when he heard a noise behind him and whirled.
His finger on the trigger, Claude started to pull since he expected the now-awake pissed-off vampire to charge him. But it didn’t happen.
Xavier stood across the room, a look of confusion on his face, stared right at Claude…and didn’t move.
Shaking his head, Xavier said, “Where am I? Who are you?”
What the fuck?
This wasn’t right, Xavier should have torn Claude’s head off by now. Something was crazy here. One thing he knew was that for this split second, he had the upper hand.
Claude emptied the magazine into Xavier’s head. The bigger they are, Claude mused. Yeah, he watched the arrogant first blood vampire hit the ground again. The other thing that struck him at that moment was that he really wanted to watch that happen over and over again.
He wasn’t finished with Xavier after all.
IN NEW YORK CITY ONE MONTH LATER
Fuck, he was hungry. Claude threw the bags onto the fancy table and headed for the fridge. He needed a cold one after last night. That last blood meal hadn’t settled well with him. The asshole had been freaked on some kind of weird-ass drug, Claude didn’t know what, but it had left him jittery and sullen. So much so that he’d found a pissy little hooker and gone to town on her.
Even that hadn’t satisfied him. Fuck this city, he thought. He was ready to leave. With winter coming soon, he fancied a warmer climate. Perhaps the Caribbean. He glanced around the room. This classic brownstone had huge rooms, high ceilings, and a magnificent theater room that he had become addicted to. Still, it wasn’t the right dwelling for a powerful vampire like himself.
Grabbing the beer and a brown paper bag, he nearly bounced down rough stairs that led to a basement. He knew that the residents he’d kicked out of this house had never visited this part of it, the place was a cesspool.
Sighing, he swigged down the entire bottle of rum and walked over to kick his pet in the side. A grin on his face, he sauntered back to a low table to pull a monster size Philly steak sandwich out of the bag. Glancing back at the chained man he’d just toe-punched, he chuckled out loud.
“Never gonna get tired of that.” Taking a big bite of the sub, he lowered himself into a recliner so plush, it felt like someone dropped the motherfucker from a cloud in heaven. The sub in his hand, he watched as his pet began to rouse.
Xavier’s groan filled the room. Finally, his eyes opened, and he tried to sit up, but he had no balance, so he keeled back over. He looked up to scan his surroundings. For some reason he couldn’t understand, he was still in the dark basement he remembered from the last time he was conscious. Why would he stay here? His eyes landed on the mean-ass man who he now remembered clearly. That son-of-a-bitch shot him almost every fucking time he woke up. He couldn’t recall much, but that, he did.
Although it took every bit of his strength to stand, on t
he third try he was able to.
The asshole sat in a tacky chair shoving a fat sandwich into his mouth. Xavier noticed the gun in his other hand, and it was pointing right at him.
“Who the fuck are ya?” His memory was blank beyond what had happened to him in this smelly underground room, but he knew he was in trouble and that this piece of shit was the reason. “What do ya want with me?”
“You ignorant Scot. Even with the brain damage you must be suffering, I still have trouble believing you don’t recognize me,” the asshole whined and threw an arm in the air. “It’s so much less satisfying that you don’t know who I am!”
Standing, the asshole walked an arc back and forth in front of Xavier, dripping juice from the sandwich onto the concrete floor. With a sigh and a big eye roll, he took another bite of the sandwich, and then stopped to stare into Xavier’s eyes. “Hungry, motherfucker?”
He waved the sandwich in front of Xavier’s eyes.
God, yeah, more than anything right now! Hungry and desperately thirsty, Xavier thought, and knew he would remain that way.
“For the tenth time, you are Xavier, big shot vampire, and I’m Claude, your arch-enemy. And I’m the man who is going to end your miserable existence very soon. This has been a blast, but I’m ready to get the fuck out of this town before the snow flies, and I can’t take you with me. Eventually, someone is going to find you, or you’re going to fucking remember who you are, and then I’m dead. So, you got one more day, fuckhead, and you’re just…” Claude held a hand up, his fingers touching, then opened them and made a gesture like he was releasing a butterfly. “…then, you’re gone forever.”
Claude closed his eyes, a look of ecstasy on his face. When he opened them, he smiled sweetly. “Oh, such joy.”
Xavier didn’t know who Claude was, but that didn’t surprise him, because he also had no idea who he was. No idea where he came from, how he got here, where he lived…nothing! But he knew one thing now with certainty. If he didn’t find a way to get out of here tonight, he was dead.
He hadn’t seen his torturer in a few hours, which meant that the asshole was either gone again or passed out. Xavier didn’t have his memories, but he did have his wits, and watching the psycho down bottle after bottle of various alcohols let him know that he might have his window. Not that it mattered, the window was closing and it was now or never. And now might work, this was the first night in which Xavier felt physically strong enough to actually succeed in getting free.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Xavier had a memory of exactly what too much booze did to a man. A memory?
Claude just made it back before sunrise. He’d had too much to drink last night and could barely function when he grabbed a last minute blood meal. Once he checked on his pet, he’d pump him full of lead again, drop into his large bed and go lights out until it was time to rise, remove Xavier’s head, and disappear.
Still unsteady, he made it down the narrow stairs into the basement, flipped on the dim lights, his pistol already dangling from his right hand, and rounded the wall to where he had Xavier triple-chained to the supporting wall of the basement. He looked into the corner and saw only chains lying on the floor. Blinking hard, it took a few moments to process the image.
Oh, fuck! His pet had escaped!
No! Not after all this time, this dedication to destroy Xavier, his determination to be the winner for once! His first vengeance kill! All of his future plans hinged on the success of this one assassination. The brain-damaged bastard vampire would not escape this fate! All it took was enough ammo to keep the motherfucker down. Head shots, that’s all it took.
Even if Xavier’s friends came for him, even if they descended on New York looking for their lost comrade, he could handle them.
“Come on, vampires, come on!”
Bullets in the brain pan for each and every one of them!
One
His eyes hurt, as they did much of the time, but tonight they were particularly bad. He wanted to tear the vile gels out. Shoving the lids open so that he could see where he was going took all of his conviction. It was because of the headaches, which were finally lessening in intensity, thank God, but still packed a vicious punch. In spite of the pain, one thing he’d learned in the small amount of time in which he had any memory, if nothing else, a man just had to do what he needed to do. Everything else would fall into place.
And in his case, that was to stay hidden until he could figure out what the fuck had happened to him and who the fuck he was!
Xavier finished his shift, leaving the nightclub spotless. Putting his cleaning tools away, he stepped back into the bar to double-check his work. Scanning right to left, he nodded to himself, satisfied that the nightclub was as clean as possible and ready for the next night’s business.
Nightclub. It was too generous of a word for this back-alley, low-rent bar that served mostly obnoxious drunks looking for attention and long-term alcoholics that just wanted to be left alone to drink themselves into nightly oblivion. That part, Xavier understood. When he finished his work, he usually hurried back to his two-room apartment and locked the door against the world.
Dealing with the rest of humanity was difficult. Not only did he not have any idea who he was, increasingly, he was aware that he also didn’t know what he was. As the nights passed, he discovered repeatedly that he was not the same as the others. Somewhere in the depths of his confusion, it made sense. He still didn’t understand it, though, the fog of his lost memories too dense. In spite of that, he’d figured out a few things about his nature.
Very early, Xavier had discovered that he was almost impossibly strong. So much so, he’d broken several things, a few chairs, mops, a broom, when he started working at the bar. With care, he’d been able to control his strength and function without others noticing how powerful he was. Since that first night, he carefully gauged everything he did and there had been no more incidences.
And he was ravenous…all the time! Unless he ate an obscene amount of food, he remained hungry. To fill this need, he’d taken to finishing everyone’s leftovers before he washed the dishes each night.
Also, women seemed to have an overt interest in him. His body responded immediately to their sexuality, but he was afraid to act on it. When an attractive woman was near, his cock filled, but at this time, prudence and survival instinct made him afraid to step beyond his need to stay safe by staying unnoticed and hidden from the bastard with an itchy trigger finger. So, for now, he quietly ignored them and faded into the kitchen or the stockroom when they targeted him.
Most startling of all was his physical reaction to daylight. It burned the shit out of him! Luckily, it appeared that he healed exponentially fast. Since then, he’d limited himself to nighttime only. Playing somewhere deep in his subconscious, he sort of remembered his shooter telling him that he was a vampire. Right! He’d left that bizarre comment right where it belonged…on the road to crazy town.
As the last one out, Xavier checked the entire bar, all three rooms, locked the doors, and slowly headed down the alley behind it. The alley connected the back entrance of three apartment buildings, one of which held twelve units, all owned by Lucky Johnson, who owned the bar where Xavier had worked for the past three weeks.
After he’d escaped his basement prison, Xavier had moved so much faster than he’d ever imagined a man could move. Ramping up that speed, he’d run as far as possible from the row of multiple story houses where he’d been held. While he had wanted to kill the motherfucker asshole who’d repeatedly shot him in the head, starved him, and often beat him, more than that, he needed to get free and begin to heal. Find out who he was, and when he did, then he’d eventually go back to finish the job of eliminating the threat. When he’d escaped, though, he had just needed get away from Claude.
Eventually, he’d found himself in this busy area outside of the city in a place called the Smoke District, the streets filled with cars and pedestrians. It had seemed like it might be a good plac
e to just blend in and disappear. That first night after his escape, he’d wandered around, becoming increasingly aware of how hungry he was. Digging into the pockets of the tattered pants he wore, not surprised to find them empty, he’d headed into one of the many long alleyways.
Once he’d moved behind one of the buildings, squinting into the dimly lit space, he’d seen a couple of large trash bins. People usually threw out edible food, he knew that for some reason, but also, he could smell a variety of food odors coming from them. There was an innate sense that rooting through trash for food was distasteful, but he had no reason to be picky or prideful. By now, he’d admitted that he was truly starving.
Twenty minutes later, perched on the edge of the huge metal bin, he had dined on several items that he found not only edible, but even enjoyable. Other than the escape, this had been the best memory of his life. Admittedly, it hadn’t taken much then, but for that moment in time, he was eating, he was free, and he had hope. For that moment, he had been happy to just breathe and enjoy the flavors.
When the door to one of the businesses had squeaked open, the big metal slab showing years of rust, a tall slender man had emerged with two heavy bags dragging the ground. Startled, he’d looked up to see the enormous man sitting near the trash bins he was planning to use, part of a sandwich in his hand.
“Uh, hey,” he’d said to Xavier, hesitating near the entrance he’d just opened.
“Hey,” Xavier had answered back, not sure whether to run or just stay and eat.
Several moments of hesitation later, the man approached Xavier. “Uh, are you eating out of the dumpster?”
Nodding, Xavier tamped down his pride. “Yeah, it’s actually quite a feast, if ya give it a chance.” He paused, then polished off the sandwich. “And if ye’re hungry enough.”