Night Series Collection: Books 1 and 2 (7 page)

I kissed him, mashing my mouth to his in such a way that it forced him to open up or be bruised. He whimpered and I felt a rising thrum of fear override his senses.

I sucked his tongue into my mouth, his hands moved frantically all over my body, but not to draw me closer. He was trying to push me away.

Lust laughed.

Tongues are such a soft, delicate piece of tissue. So many nerve endings. Teased the right way tonguing can be a delicious experience.

I bit him, my fangs slicing deep.

He screamed, but the night was a cacophonous spill of noises. No one heard him. If I wanted to, I could kill him. I squeezed his arm, to the point right before a break. He moaned, and it reeked of the greasy, slimy stench of fear. If I kept it up he’d piss himself.

Pathetic human
, Lust snarled.

Lucky for him, I had no intention of killing this night. I shoved him away, hard enough that he nearly tripped over his feet.

I licked my lips, tasting his blood on them and spit. It’s not that I mind blood—most demons enjoy the taste of it on occasion—but when it’s riddled with disease it’s a little like trying to drink expired milk.

His eyes were wide, frantic. As if my kissing him had burned the alcohol right out of his system, he was hyper aware and holding on to his mouth like he feared it might fall off. Blood trickled down the sides of his chin.

Poor thing, he was in a load of proverbial poo now. Blood was a very bad accessory to be wearing in a place like this. Made all the baddies shiver and shake.

Wayne train turned and ran.

“Hey!” I cupped my mouth, “Where you going, baby? Thought you liked it rough.”

He didn’t turn back and I laughed, really laughed. Of course Lust was acting petulant and demanding I go and finish him off. But I was sure Jr. had learned his lesson. No need for added violence. So I ignored her.

My neck prickled, tightened. Like someone’s hot gaze was boring a hole in my head. I turned and studied the blackness beyond my ride. The trees were thick with shadows, and danced with the wind.

I rubbed the back of my neck, patting the fine hairs down. I could see nothing, but I felt it. It wasn’t a feeling of danger, but it wasn’t exactly comforting either.

Frowning, I walked to the game booth nearest me.

The stall was empty. Kemen’s booth wasn’t one of the more active tents. Luc had set him up with the water-balloon game. But that wasn’t what kept the booth almost perpetually empty; it was the fact that there were no prizes to be had for the winner.

Might seem like a crazy thing to do, but the truth was, we weren’t concerned with making money. Each member of this family had to contribute. For most it was a cakewalk. Bubba loved his time at the platform, Luc loved whatever it was that Luc did, us girls...well we just loved being the center of attention.

Kemen was different. His demon was sloth. In layman terms that meant he was lazy as hell and couldn’t be trusted with running an active booth. If he wasn’t sleeping, he was playing video games. On the one hand I envied the ease of that demon, on the other, I couldn’t imagine always being so tired I could barely bring myself to shave, let alone shower each day.

He was a Captain Sparrow type with greasy hair and clothes that looked wrinkled, faded, and unwashed for who knows how long, but still very bangable. Or maybe that was just me.

Kemen sat on a chair resting on its hind legs, hands clasped in his lap, chin on his chest, eyes closed and snoring louder than an electric band saw. I kicked his feet, knocking the chair down, making him jump and grab his chest. I grinned. He narrowed amber eyes, shoveling blunt fingers through his cropped brown hair.

“Pandora,” he growled, “you scared the crap out of me.”

Hair jutted out in odd angles around his head. He yawned, stretching arms high above his head and then groaned.

Gaw, just watching him was making me tired, probably why the humans tended to avoid his booth like the plague. I loved Kemen, but the man was a real downer.

“You awake now, Rip Van Winkle, or do I need to go get a bucket of ice water and dump it on you?”

He smacked his lips. “Funny.”

“Listen, spell me will ya? I gotta take a walk.”

He stood, gave another long lion’s roar of a yawn and shook himself, as if he was trying to wake up, then nodded.

I eyed him. “Or do you think you’re awake enough to handle it? Hate to come back and find the humans dead because you passed out and pressed the wrong button.”

“I swear you nettle me on purpose. You a wise ass like this with everyone else?”

“Just you, baby.” I winked.

“Don’t know why I put up with you.”

“‘Cause you love me.” I batted my lashes at him and gave him my best cheeky smirk.

He snorted, then walked off muttering under his breath.

I laughed. Of all of us, Kemen was the sweetest. Sloth was lazy, not dangerous. He could kill, he was still part demon after all, but he’d take sleep over death any day of the week.

I was getting ready to head back into the woods when I was again overcome by the feeling that I was being watched.

I looked and this time...I saw something.

I
narrowed my eyes knowing the shadow that danced outside the shelter of light wasn’t shadow at all. The familiar shiver of paras pulsed across my skin like static. The lump of darkness separated into three distinct shapes.

One moved forward, the others to the sides. Like a lion on the hunt they circled their unsuspecting prey.

The ebb and flow of life and death is as natural to me as breathing. Balance and counterbalance. And yet, there are two types of death. One that is preordained, set in ink and nothing and no one can change it. It is meant to be and it will happen, it doesn’t matter how many scenarios you run through they all lead to the same end result.

Then there’s the unnatural kind. Murder. Death before its time. Those you can change. This was one of those times.

The prey was a woman in her early twenties; not pretty, not ugly either. Average. Dispensable. Someone easily overlooked until it was too late. Mussed up brown hair, library chic glasses, gray sweater, a typical college student on the cusp of making a mark in the world.

Like a ripple of water moving in reverse the circle tightened. The shadows almost within arm’s reach.

She looked up, eyes wide, glancing around and nostrils flaring as if she could smell the danger, she huddled a little closer to the safety of people in front of her. She didn’t talk to them, so I knew she wasn’t part of that group. But there was strength in numbers and somewhere deep down she sensed the threat.

It always fascinated me how much like animals humans became when you stripped away the thin veneer of civility to expose their baser elements.

Her baggy, carefree style of dress said she wasn’t vain. The grayish pallor to her skin said she was more often indoors than out, likely studying as the bags under her eyes attested to. She fidgeted a lot; she wasn’t comfortable in crowds, which meant her friends had probably dragged her out here.

She had no darkness, she was light. Light doesn’t mean someone’s infallible, perfect, all that’s wholesome. I mean, whatever, that’s about as delusional as believing that once you get married
he’ll change
. Dream on.

What it does mean is that eight out of ten times light will choose good over wrong. Helping over hurting. We are not to harm light; she isn’t ours for the taking. The shadows knew that.

She cocked her head, staring out into the darkness as if searching for that mysterious presence. I doubt she had a clue how close the shadows were, they’d stopped moving and were crouched low, hidden to all but those who knew where to look.

She shook her head and laughed with one of those don’t-be-ridiculous-there’s-nothing-out-there sounds.

Don’t move
. I wanted to scream it at her, but it was too late. She stepped away from the group and the shadows snapped her up. No one noticed, or if they did, they thought it was some crazy prank. The shadows loped off into the veil of darkness beyond.

I had one of two choices. Follow, or stay.

I growled. “Stupid conscious.” There was no choice.

I ran at a somewhat fast pace. Enough to keep the shadowed shapes in view, but slow enough to not draw attention to myself. Expecting to bump into Billy at some point tonight I was a veritable weapons cache. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe he was through with me. Priests are like bloodhounds; once they’ve got your scent, the pursuit is relentless.

His behavior was unusual, not only leaving me the way he did, but not showing up tonight, all of which made him unpredictable and more dangerous. I’d have to keep alert. Last night Billy had gotten the jump on me, but I was no damsel in distress. I wouldn’t make that same mistake twice.

Why then am I running after a pack of baddies, alone and in the middle of the night, doesn’t that scream TSTL? Have you ever lived to be five-thousand years old? Do you have any clue how long that actually is? I’m not saying I want to die, but I don’t fear death either. If it happens it happens, I’m not gonna stop living because a death priest thinks I should. Screw him and anybody else who feels that way. I was created; therefore I’m entitled to live it. That’s all I have to say about that.

I passed the Tilt-a-Whirl, glancing at the ride, hoping to spot Vyxyn, but she wasn’t there.

The shadows were getting away from me. Separating. One moving straight, the other to the left, the last to the right. I had no idea who had the girl.

I really hated when killers got smart. So annoying.

It was a one in three chance; I followed door number three and veered to my right, keeping tucked within the safety of the trees.

Shadow was passing furtive glances over its shoulder. I still couldn’t make out what type of
parasite
this was, it was clothed in a long midnight blue robe-cowl combo. If I had to make a guess: vamp. Seemed like the type of thing the stylistic pompous idiots would get a kick out of.

And if it was vamp, then this was worrying. Why were they getting so bold?

I didn’t dematerialize to follow, the sulfuric smell would have been a dead giveaway and stealth was key. I hugged the trees, moving only when he did, slipping between branches with the swift grace of a wraith on the hunt.

The night was still, cold, as if the world held its collective breath.

Shadow paused, glanced around and then began a nonsensical path of distraction. Going left, right, in circles, turning around and backtracking, doing it so many times even I began to feel disoriented. This same pattern followed for at least a mile or two.

What in the world?

I know what it was doing. Creating a false trail, that way if anyone came to investigate they’d see a bunch of shambling, aimless prints and nothing more. Since when had the vamps gotten this organized?

Believe it or not, they’re generally loners. You don’t typically find one with another. So to see them working, moving as one, and hunting together is troubling.

I narrowed my eyes; two other shapes joined my shadow, presumably the same ones from before. I didn’t see the girl.

That couldn’t be good.

They walked a bit further then stepped into a clearing with a large bonfire. Orange and yellow flames licked at the night. The wood crackled, spitting out glowing pieces of cinder.

I kept myself tucked in the gloom and silhouette of the trees, studying the lay out, gathering Intel the best I could.

I scanned the field, the trees and saw no one else. Whatever this was, it only involved the three before me.

One of the bodies pulled back the cowl. It was a woman, springy mass of red curls bobbing around her head in the strong breeze that had suddenly kicked up out of nowhere. White eyes with cat irises studied the other two figures before her.

What a load of garbage those eyes were. Obviously contacts. Vamps loved to play up to the mythos. Truth was when you turned, nothing changed. If you were fat before you’d be fat now. If you had blue eyes, green, brown, didn’t matter, nothing changed.

I know I said if you asked for beauty you’d turn vamp, but just because you ask for something doesn’t mean you’re gonna get it. At least not the way you’d expect it. Demons take perverse pleasure in twisting the truth, but we always keep our word. If we tell you you’ll attract hordes of women, you will. It might not be because you’ve turned into Fabio with the long billowy hair, but because you’ve grown puss ridden from head to toe, but hey...you’re attracting hordes of women, right?

She said something, but the wind carried the words away before I could make it out, then one of the figures nodded and walked back into the woods.

I leaned over, pulled up the hem of my leather pants and reached into my boot, grabbing a switchblade I had tucked inside.

A small scurrying sound grabbed my attention. My heart thudded, I snapped the blade open, metal glinting like blue steel in the moonlight. I looked up, staring hard at the branches above me and spotted a squirrel.

“Stupid animal.” I turned back toward the makeshift camp.

The other vamp had thrown his hood back. A graying man, balding, maybe in his mid to late thirties, but looks could be deceiving. The only true way to tell a vamps age was by the iris. Somewhere around the hundred year mark the iris begins to turn a shade of red, the hue growing deeper and richer with age.

He and the women were placing large flat stones before the fire, almost like an altar. What was this?

This was occult stuff, not vamp. Vamps were more the drink ‘em and kill ‘em type.

I didn’t have to wait long to find out what was going on.

The third vamp returned, towing the limp body of the girl. Her head flopped, her feet dragged, it was clear she was unconscious maybe even comatose if the smashed in nose, distorted face and sliced bottom lip had anything to say about it.

The three grabbed the girl and placed her on the altar. One had her by the ankles, another by the wrists, the red head then walked around to the side of the girl and shucked off her robe. She was nude save for a Kopis she had belted at her waist—a wicked knife with at least a fifteen inch blade and curved at the center.