Blood Enchanted (Blood Enchanted, Book 1): A Vampire Hunter Paranormal Romance Series (3 page)

"Neither was my reaction to being set up."

We stared at each other for several heartbeats and then he nodded. "OK, I won't take it out of your next pay-check." Generous bastard. "But I expect you to fight tonight, I need the regulars to know they can count on a Nosferatin in the ring every now and then, and it's been too long."

"I'm not here to fight. I'm looking for Luc, have you seen him?"

Reggie crossed his beefy arms over his chest. He was a big guy, all muscle, no fat. Short, spiky, white-blond hair, pale skin and a prominent chin. They all kind of ruined the muscle-man look for me. I liked my men with muscles, for sure, but I went more for the tanned, tall, dark and handsome look. The tan limits the number of vampires I'm attracted to, but hey, I can't help it. It's just the way I'm built.

"Why would he come here?" he asked, a little too casually.

"You know something."

"And I'm a ghoul, sweetheart. Nothing is for free."

Damn ghouls and their compulsion to exchange information. But I didn't have anything trade-worthy he wouldn't already know. Unlike the ghoul I’d roughed up earlier, Reggie was strong and intelligent. He was by no means at the bottom of the ghoul ladder. Hell, he probably knew more about me than I did and certainly a damn sight more than my father did, anyway.

"I'll fight," I offered and watched a gleam enter into his deep blue eyes.

"That's not how it works, El, and you know it."

I shrugged. "Then I guess I'm done here." He stood when I stood, and offered a dramatic sigh.

Gotcha!

"I'm not giving you info." He shuddered as though that would be a crime against nature or something equally as unacceptable. "But I can give you something if you agree to fight."

I raised an eyebrow at him as he led the way out of his office and down to the end of the hall. A steel door stood sentinel in the dark. Multiple deadbolts and chains down one side, hidden hinges down the other. He started the laborious task of undoing each one.

I knew what stood on the other side of that door. The arena. This was Reggie's private access to the ring. It entered into his box. We could see but not be seen. I'd only been in Reggie's private viewing platform once before, but I knew what to expect.

I also knew exactly how many exits there would be, what potential hazards I could expect and how much space I would have to manoeuvre in if we were ambushed. My hand slipped to my hip holster and fingered a stake.

He opened the door with a flourish expecting me to proceed him into the room. I shook my head, letting my eyes adjust to the brighter light through the door and stood my ground. He grumbled under his breath, something about being too cautious for my own good, and stomped into the empty space.

As soon as I shut the door behind us the sounds from the arena met my ears. I felt my heartbeat quicken and adrenaline pump through my veins. I licked my lips and had to contain my enthusiasm as I approached the one-way glass and took in the scene below us. The room was packed. Ghouls, vampires, fairies, shifters and the odd opportunist Norm thrown into the mix. Bookies shouting the best and current odds-on favourites, money changing hands, sweat - predominantly male - invaded my nostrils, and the clang of the cage being lifted to the sounds of elation mixed with the more dire sounds of those who had just lost a bet.

The body of a shifter was carried from the blood soaked floor and disappeared from sight down a tunnel to the side. He'd be healed, Reggie liked his fighters to come back for more, even the drop-dead useless ones. A lone vampire stood in the centre of the ring, dark haired head thrown back, arms outstretched as though he was praying - or absorbing the ecstasy of the crowd. The winner taking a moment to let it all sink in. Show off.

His head came down and his eyes sprang open. Staring directly at me. He couldn't see me, we were hidden behind mirrored glass, but I knew without a doubt that he
saw
me. Silver and ice-blue flashed in his eyes, a small smile played on his full red lips. The garish lights above the arena did nothing for his skin, but I would guess he was darkish, maybe Mediterranean or eastern European, something with a hint of mocha beneath. Under different circumstances I was certain his skin tone alone would be just my kind of thing, not to mention his tall physique and muscular frame, but the look in his unusually coloured eyes warned me off going down that track. I'm not stupid, I know a hungry vampire when I see one.

I hadn't realised I'd taken my stake out of its holster and was spinning it in my hand. A nervous gesture that helped to soothe. Reggie was watching me with a knowing smile on his face.

"Hakan Bahar," he said, whisper quiet. "The vampire you're looking for, and the one who is telling everyone he'll beat you in the arena or die trying."

I licked my lips and lifted my gaze to Reggie's. "Do you believe him?"

He shrugged and turned back to look at the vampire who was now bowing to the crowd, which was still cheering and hooting and generally encouraging this pathetic display of humility.

"He's impressive. He's left a trail of maimed bodies across town. Tonight alone he's bettered four of my more competent regulars. Four guys you've only ever taken on, on a good night." He nodded, reluctantly. "He could do it, Ellie. He could be your match. The bookies think so."

I bit my bottom lip and flipped my stake. I'd been hunting for the perfect match for years. When the vamps came out and the humans got all pitchforked up and vigilante-like, the arenas appeared. A place where you could get behind the side you favoured without taking any heat. But for those of us with something to prove it was paradise.

I
did
have something to prove. I was the daughter of the Champion. I'd had to carry that weight since I was born. And not only that, my father is extremely protective. If it hadn't have been for my mother secretly taking me on hunts since I was fifteen, I'd never have known one end of a stake from the other. But then I found the arenas. I found a place my father purposely ignored. He couldn't be seen to condemn them or condone them. It wasn't politically the correct path for the leader of the Nosferatu to take. So he ignored them. He pretended they didn't exist.

Just like he pretended I didn't go hunting with my mother when I turned fifteen.

But as much as I had been searching for that perfect opponent, one who would push me to my limits and not hold back, I also wasn't suicidal. I knew nothing about this Hakan Bahar and what I did know amounted to a big black mark.
Luc belonged to him.
If he wanted a fight, the prize needed to befit the challenge.

I wanted my brother back, I'd settle for nothing less.

I flicked my gaze back to the ghoul beside me, shoved my stake in my holster and turned to leave.

"Set it up," I said over my shoulder, then opened the door back towards the bar and slipped into the waiting dark, with a delicious shiver of anticipation running down my spine and chasing me out of the room.

T
he world
I grew up in was not the same as the world my parents did. My father is over five hundred years old, but appears to be about thirty-two. My mother looks twenty-five, but she's closer to half a century now. Vampires stop ageing when they are turned. Nosferatins freeze at the age of twenty-five, as long as they join with a kindred. Should they miss that boat, they simply die.

But neither of my parents could have foreseen the dark years. Those first few years after the vampires were exposed. They really deserved capital letters. Dark Years. And an ominous soundtrack as well. Rebellions broke out. Riots that destroyed human property as well as those owned by the Nosferatu. They lasted thirteen months, then petered off into smaller skirmishes; more gang related than humanity shocked.

We've never fully recovered since. Humans or supernaturals. Not one major centre throughout the world missed out on the wars. Those cities with a Master Vampire in charge were hit the hardest. London, Paris, Denver, New York, Singapore and so on. The fact that the vamps managed to keep Auckland's unique importance hidden from the public was a miracle. Or clever PR. The
Iunctio
dedicated a lot of manpower to making it happen. They needed to. It's their seat of power.

I purposely headed away from Vampire Central. That part of the city inundated with vampires; feeding, hunting, guarding the
Iunctio
itself. Even as dawn threatened to kiss the horizon there would be
Iunctio
guards prowling the streets around my father's hotel on Mayoral Drive. Ready to put out a flash fire in an instant, sweep the streets clean, hide any evidence of the Nosferatu.

That particular battle they were winning. But the writing was on the wall. Aucklanders knew vampires lived amongst them. Sooner or later they'd cotton on to the fact that the City Of Sails housed their government too. How would that go?

Not good.

Humans can be as brutal as a ghoul, as blood-thirsty as a vampire, and as cunning as the Fey. I was sure my father was preparing for that day. Luc would know for certain, he had our father's ear. Me? I just avoided politics as much as possible. It didn't pay well and I had money to earn.

I cut through a derelict building near Quay Street, still too close the the VC than I would have liked, but not too many vampires tended to go near the wharves. They'd become off limits to all but rogues and arena fighters. No official - as far as official goes in this profession - fights were held here, but the hardest and most untrustworthy of my peers could be found sharpening their skills in amongst the rubble and debris of the neglected wharves and warehouses.

Water dripped constantly from a burst main, smoke filled the air from drums of fires. The constant cough of a homeless person filtered through the shattered window on a single standing brick wall. Rubbish blew carelessly from one resting place to the next. My boots kicked up crumbled rocks and bits of mortar as I walked with purpose, dust coating my leathers and dulling the shine on my shoes. Just how I liked 'em.

I ducked under a leaning long-dead light pole, and slipped between two well placed sheets of plasterboard, coming out into an open space. Stars doggedly twinkled overhead, dimming as the sky turned from deep indigo to a brightening violet and blue. The sun would be up soon and vampires would retreat to their lairs leaving the world a slightly safer place.

Or so the humans thought.

I stilled, just this side of the large divide, letting my eyes search the shadows for movement. My ears strained, my hearing better than most, but unable to pick up any danger. I could have skirted the rubbish strewn and pock marked concrete, used the darker edges as cover. But to do so would be a signal of weakness. If you came here, you could not show fear.

I straightened my shoulders and walked out into open space. I made it half a dozen paces, approximately a third of the way across, when I heard it. I heard it before I saw it. My sword was in my hand before it reached my side. I didn't turn to face the danger, I swung my blade up beside my head, severing the arrow in two. The sound of the broken shaft hitting the concrete echoed in the still pre-dawn air. My eyes darted down to the offending article, not recognising the markings along its sides.

I spun slowly, sword raised, head cocked to the side, listening.

A second arrow from my left. Either a very fast opponent or two from differing places around the courtyard. My sword swung from reflex, my hair flying as I put my entire body into the manoeuvre. They wanted a show, they'd get one. But they'd see what
I
wanted them to see.

The two parts of the arrow hit the ground, only to be followed by a third and fourth in quick succession from two further locations.
Four
opponents?

My movements were unhurried and sure, a dance of weaponry taught to me by the best. To wield a Svante Sword you needed to make it an extension of your body;
be one with the sword
, my mother had teased. She took training seriously, she just couldn't be bothered curbing her sense of humour.

I was eight years old when I picked her sword up, marvelling at the colourful dancing dragon hilt, the thirty odd inches of honed metal, tapering from two inches at the guard to an extremely sharp point. She watched on silently as I fought an imaginary foe in our lounge room, the blade tip hanging low, my arms aching holding the weight aloft.

I stabbed the sofa. The stuffing spewed out of the armrest and I dropped the sword. My punishment was to tell my father what had happened when he came home, and then start my lessons with the sword the very next day. I loved the lessons. I hated coming clean to Papa.

The third and fourth arrows met their fate. I wasn't even breathing hard yet.

I stilled, sword raised, and waited. No more arrows. They'd gotten what they'd come for. I am faster than a human. As fast as a vampire. Which makes me faster than a Nosferatin. I hide a lot of things, but my speed is not one of them. My opponents today had not found out anything new.

Finally a tall man emerged from the right hand shadows and crossed the space to where I stood. A crossbow perched on his shoulder, firing end pointing to the sky. I didn't lower my guard. My eyes met forest green in his, a colour unnatural for a vampire, even if I could tell he was a shifter instead. Too close to the sun for a vamp to be challenging, but something told me this shifter had a master. He wasn't acting alone.

"Impressive," he announced, once he'd made it within four feet of me. His accent was European. Narrowed down the field a little, but not by much. Only coincidence placed him in Hakan Bahar's camp. Coincidence and a nice tan.

I studied him, without offering a reply. People talk too much, enough can be said with silver. Even shifters disliked the sting of that particular metal. But what type of shifter was he? Not a Taniwha, not local. He'd be peculiar to his place of birth. But where exactly was that?

"My name is Ediz," he offered. Score two for Hakan's man. "You do not look like him," he continued, studying my features with a slight frown. "But you fight like a child of his would."

I didn't let the unease or anger show on my face. I'd been trained young to hide my emotions when needed from vampires. The same practice could be levelled against any enemy, and as this creature had just participated in the firing of multiple arrows at my head, he was firmly on the enemy team. But his statement was not unfamiliar. I'd taken pains to not look like my father and mother. Dyed my hair blonde, wore it in dreadlocks down my back, heavy make-up to change the shape of my eyes.
Always
covered my
Sigillum
.

My parents had gifted me a lot of things at birth, the most unusual and annoying being their combined mark.
Sigillums
represented possession. I was part of their family, so was Luc. Theirs to protect until we were of age, and even then my father would have you believe he was my only chance at safety. The iridescent tattoo-like designs were their
Sigillums
. Mine worn on the left arm, Luc's on his right.

Most
Sigillums
just exist, but something in our blood made ours unique. Right now mine would be a mixture of colours; sage for unease, magenta for anger. The leather of my jacket sleeve felt too hot. I forced myself not to show my imagined discomfort and shift my arm.

"What do you want?" I demanded, sword still raised. I could hold it like this for over an hour and not tire. Punishment for misdemeanours in the Durand household had taken many forms, this was my mother's favourite.

And I'd been a wayward child.

"Merely to introduce myself," Ediz said. "And see if the rumours were true."

I didn't ask. The rumours could have been about any of my known skills, speed definitely one of them. So I was going with that.

"
Bey
Hakan Bahar sends his regards," the shifter announced with a flourish of arms and hands. A movement that had to mean something somewhere, but which made him look like an idiot instead. I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Allow me to offer mine in return," I murmured, spinning in Nosferatin flight through the air and slicing my sword down his right arm, the one holding the crossbow. The weapon fell to the ground instantly, but I was already several feet past the shifter, and didn't turn around.

An horrendous growl sounded out through the air, actually raising the hair on the back of my neck. But I'd passed the halfway mark and entered Travis' territory. I heard the telling sound of automatic weapons loading, the whir of mechanics as they moved to cover my back. That raised goose-flesh feeling didn't abate however. The growl had turned into an ominous threat.

I paused, just outside the shadows that led into Trav's residence - if you could call the dilapidated building he'd commandeered as his a home. I didn't look over my shoulder, just turned my face so Ediz could see my expression as I slid my Svante into its back sheath. I flicked my hair free to cover the sword, a smirk gracing my lips I knew the shifter would notice.

No gunfire sounded out as I bounded up the rickety steps to Travis' visitor entrance, so Ediz had heard our threat as well and decided not to act.

I pressed my thumb against the scanner hidden to the side of the titanium and silver coated door, and felt the prick as it stole my blood. Fifteen seconds later, having determined I was close enough to human, the door sprang open and I entered Travis McLeod's world.

"You been making some strange friends, Ellie," Travis called out as I emerged into his control room. I crossed to the monitor he was sitting in front of and watched the shifter, Ediz, standing in the centre of the open spaced courtyard.

"What
is
he?" I asked, unable to look away from the sight that met my eyes.

"At a guess," Trav murmured, "some sort of cross between a tiger and a giant mutant lizard. Fugly!" he added for good measure. The word lengthening to make several syllables instead of its usual two.

I nodded absently, taking in the four inch claws on fur covered, thick arms and the many serrated teeth in a muzzle-like maw. Ediz, in his animal form, threw back his head and roared. The sound tapering off to a hiss at the end, leaving pinpricks of unnatural and basic fear skittering across my skin. I rubbed my arms, trying to dislodge the sensation.

"Whatever he is, he's old," Trav muttered. "Like crawled out of the primordial ooze old."

"Yeah," I agreed, uncharacteristically dumbfounded.

I've seen a lot of unusual supernatural creatures in my twenty-five years of life. Sooner or later they all come to pay homage to the Champion of the
Iunctio
, the leader of the organisation that is there not only for vampires, but
all
supernatural creatures. But I'd never seen this.

"Find out where it's from," I instructed. "Origins, strengths, weaknesses. And it's connection to a vampire called Hakan Bahar."

"Oh, you've met the illustrious Lord," Travis quipped.

I rounded on my friend. One of only a handful of humans who had made it into my inner circle. Travis McLeod was not just your average Norm though. Don't let the wheelchair fool you.

"You know about him?"

"Not a lot, just what's been spread on the network," Travis replied. The network he was referring to was not the "vampire network" that made up part of the
Iunctio
. There would be something on that particular supernatural bandwidth about my mysterious middle eastern vampire, and I
could
swallow my pride and just go ask my father what there was on there. But that would involve a lecture about my responsibilities and upcoming joining. I could also take a chance that Alain would treat me with something other than over-protectiveness at my father's behest, and see if the spy master knew of Hakan. But the chances of Alain doing that were next to none.

I was at best a kid sister. At worst, a precious treasure that should be locked up and kept safe.

I ground my teeth, my jaw beginning to ache with the familiar frustration.

No, my only course of action was the ghoul network, already pressed to its limits tonight. Or Travis.

"So, what's your network of cameras and spies tell you then?" I asked, slipping my jacket off and throwing it over an armchair in the corner, then unbuckling my Svante sheath and removing that as well.

Travis ignored my striptease, he'd seen it all before. When in the company of those I trusted, I bared my arms. It was the only time I could truly be me.

He clicked away on the keyboard of his computer for several seconds, making different screens in front of him light up with images; all of them cage fights throughout Auckland. I knew each location, had fought in them time and again. One was Reggie's Bar.

"Six fights. Six wins. None of them took over five minutes," Travis explained, as he started the video clips all running simultaneously.

My eyes flicked from one to the next in rapid succession, managing to take in each fluid strike, each obscenely swift dodge, and each whip-like counter measure. It was like watching a wild animal, only this animal had such beautiful, death-defying grace. He flew through the air similar to how a Nosferatin spins. On more than one occasion, his movements matched mine.