Nightwalker Read online

  “I didn’t come here to destroy you,” he said, his voice rolling through the silent room like a rumble of distant thunder.

  A bubble of laughter escaped me as I moved forward so my face hovered above his. “And that is supposed to stop me from killing you? You come into my territory, kill my people, and then you say you’re not here to destroy me. No, Danaus, I plan to dig around inside of you to find out where that little ball of power is hiding.” I smiled at him, broadly enough to expose my fangs.

  Danaus was moving before I even had a chance to react, rolling so he was now on top of me. But I was still holding his wrists. I pushed him backward, throwing him off me and across the room. The hunter landed on his back and slid a couple of feet. When he was standing again, I was on the other side of the room.

  I leaned back into the corner, balanced on my heels, with my shoulders braced against the two walls. After letting his warm powers wash over me, I forced myself to slow down. I had never encountered a creature with powers that felt like his. We had acquired a new, dark threat. I needed to discover who or what he was, and if there were more like him. We had not spent countless centuries fighting, and finally defeating, the naturi, only to find ourselves faced with a new foe. One free to walk about in the daylight hours.

  I forced a laugh, sending the sound dancing around the room until it finally skipped out the open window to my right. My laughter seemed to put him more on edge than my straddling him. Or maybe it was the fact that he had enjoyed being pinned. I doubted he’d ever allowed any nightwalker get that close to him without putting up a fight.

  Staring at him now, something else caught my eye. “Where’s your cross, Danaus?” I called across the distance, hooking my thumbs on the front pockets of my leather pants. “All good hunters have a cross dangling about their necks. Where’s yours?”

  “How can you control fire?” he demanded. His face was grim and half hidden in the shadow of his hair as it fell forward. “It’s forbidden.” He took a wary step forward, the gritty floor crunching under his foot.

  I gracefully rolled to my feet, as if I was a marionette pulled up by my strings. There was nothing human about the movement, and I was pleased to see it still unnerved him even after all his years of hunting us. He took a half step back before he could stop himself, his frown deepening.

  “Forbidden?” I repeated. “Has someone written a book of rules on nightwalkers that I don’t know about?” Information. Could that be the reason he had come hacking and slashing into my domain? He was curious and seeking information?

  “No vampire has ever been able to control fire.”

  “Few have ever hunted us without the protection of a silver cross,” I countered.

  Danaus stared hard at me. I had a feeling he would have growled at me, but I think he was leaving the animal-like noises to me. He turned the knife handle around in his hand, weighing his options. How important was this information to him? Enough that he would finally be forced to divulge some of his own? Of course, he could then kill me and that would be the end of it.

  When the hunter spoke again, the words seemed dragged from his throat. “A cross cannot protect one who is already damned to Hell.”

  A dozen new questions rushed to my lips, but I had my answer and knew he wouldn’t willingly give up any more. At least, not without my answer to his question, and I was willing to play, for now.

  “We all have our gifts,” I said with a shrug. “Yuri can call wolves to his side. Seraf can raise the dead.”

  “But fire…” His voice drifted off.

  “Doesn’t quite seem fair,” I said. “The one thing that is supposed to kill us all, and I am completely immune. But it has nothing to do with being a nightwalker. I could control fire before I was reborn. Somehow, I retained the gift.”

  “Like the naturi,” he murmured.

  “I am nothing like the naturi!” My temper flared to life instantly and I took a step toward him with my fangs bared. All I saw was a quick flick of his wrist, faster than I had ever seen any human move. But that was my fault. I was still thinking of him as human.

  The blade flashed for half a second in the moonlight before burying itself in my chest. I stumbled backward, my back slamming into the wall behind me as my hand closed around the knife. It was an inch below my heart, clipping the side of my left lung. With his skill, I guessed he missed my heart on purpose. Even a blow to the heart wouldn’t have necessarily killed me, but weakened me enough so he could stroll over and take my head off. It was supposed to be a warning, and if I wasn’t so angry, I might have heeded it.

  I pulled the dagger from my chest, gritting my teeth as it rubbed against bone and sliced more muscle and flesh. Pressing my left hand against the wound, I tried to slow the flow of blood as it moved like warm fingers down my stomach. The dagger fell from my fingers and clattered to the floor. The sound echoed through the house like shot across an empty plain. I glared at him, finding he had already pulled another knife and held it clenched in his right fist, waiting for me.

  This time I walked across the room. I wanted him to see me coming. The movement pulled and twisted the cut in my chest as the flesh struggled to mend. I’d worry about that later. I kept the faint smile on my face, burying the scream of pain deep in my chest.

  He slashed at me with the same speed he’d thrown the knife, but I expected it as I watched the twitch and flex of muscles play below his skin. I knocked his hand away, feeling the crack of bone in his wrist as my arm connected. The knife fell to the floor as his fingers spasmed under the flash of pain. He kicked out with his left leg, trying to keep a safe distance between us, but I caught his leg with my right hand and threw him back into the wall. I grabbed his arms, slamming them against the drywall with enough force to dent the surface, keeping them raised above his head. My left hand pressed a bloody handprint into his forearm, and I crushed my body against his with enough force that he grunted. I was done playing nice.

  I was shorter than him even in heels, but I could still reach his neck without tiptoeing. I smiled, displaying my fangs. His heart skipped faster, pounding against my chest with its intoxicating warmth. His scent came back to me, the sweet kiss of the wind sweeping over dark waters and the bright sun.

  “What are you, Danaus?” I whispered, peering into his eyes. His lips were pressed into a firm, tight line. He was furious. I smiled and leaned into him, close enough that he could feel my words caress the tender flesh of his neck. This time he struggled, muscles straining up and down his body as he tried to rid himself of me, but he was trapped. In a battle of strength, he knew he couldn’t win.

  My breath brushed across his ear. “It doesn’t matter.” My lips dipped down to graze his neck, and I could feel a chill skitter across his sweaty flesh. “You’ll tell me one day. Before I’m through, you’ll even trust me.”

  I released him and jumped backward, landing easily on the other side of the room. No reason to give him another chance to put a knife in my chest. I had a feeling that this time he wouldn’t miss. I stared into his eyes, and there it was this time: fear. A deeper look of uncertainty and doubt. I had finally shaken him down to his core; touched something no one else had. It made him infinitely more dangerous, but then again, I had just become infinitely more dangerous to him, threatening him with something far more horrible than a painful death.

  “We’re not finished,” he said, one hand holding his fractured wrist.

  “Oh, you’re right. We’re not finished by a long shot, but tonight’s fun is over,” I announced, tilting my head to the side.

  “I didn’t come here to kill you.”

  “Really?”

  One corner of his mouth jerked into a half smile as he watched me. “Not this time.”

  “Just remember that your business is with me. Touch another nightwalker and you’ll be dead before you even know I’m there.” I let my hands fall to my sides, palms facing him. Drops of fire tumbled from my fingertips like water. The flames pooled at my feet for a mo
ment, then shot out like something alive, surging toward the walls and across the hardwood floors. My eyelids drifted lower until my eyes were barely open. I could see him watching me, but my focus was on the fire that had slipped down through the floor and was quickly seeking out both of the exits.

  With one last smile I darted out the open window to my right and landed in the yard. I jogged across the lawn and only paused to look back when I was in the middle of the street. The house was engulfed in brilliant orange and yellow flames. I knew he would get out. Men like Danaus didn’t die so easily. I was half tempted to remain behind to see him run from the building, but there wasn’t time. The night had grown old and I needed to feed to replace the blood he’d spilled tonight. I would finish killing the hunter later.

  Two

  The sand has run out on more than six centuries for me. I have seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, the discovery of new lands and peoples, and acts of cruelty by humans that chill even my cold blood. But across the ages and changing face of man, I have to admit that the twenty-first century is by far my favorite. In these times, people can shed their past and appearance like a snake slithering free of its dead skin. The world is covered in a new Technicolor facade that has been built over the old realm, blotting out the sky and the earth.

  Now there is no need to stalk my victims through dark alleyways and gaze down from hidden rooftops. Lost souls dot the landscape like daisies, waiting for me to pluck them up with promises of release. They stare up at me with empty eyes and broken hearts like I am their saving angel. I slip into their lives to deliver them briefly from an existence that has no direction or greater meaning.

  In an effort to blot out this vast void, these poor people have decided to fill it again with the primitive. In the dark corners and hidden clubs, the comfortable mask of civilization has been ripped away and they indulge in a feast for the senses. This new age of decadence has these creatures drowning in a wellspring of sensations, bathing in new tastes and smells. But my favorite is the glorious sense of touch. No matter where I go, there always seem to be hands reaching out to caress, to fondle, and to connect.

  After centuries of covering our flesh from the tops of our heads to the soles of our feet, clothes have shrunk and become a type of second skin. In fact, I’ve never seen a people with a greater fascination with leather. That wonderful material has been cut, stretched, and stitched into so many amazing shapes that it can now cover every inch of the body or just the social essentials.

  Upon waking with the sinking sun, I decided to go to one of my favorite haunts not far from the river. The Docks was an old, derelict building that had been converted into a nightclub. I strolled through the city streets, enjoying the warm caress of a late July breeze. The area hummed and throbbed with life. It was a Friday night and people were rushing toward one distraction or another. Weaving through the random herds of people gathered here and there, I listened to the steady cadence of my heels clicking against the cracked and dirty sidewalk, echoing up the sides of the flat brick buildings that lined the city landscape.

  At the corner, I paused. I had been about to turn north when I sensed a nightwalker at Forsyth Park. This giant green space lies in the historical district, dominated by a great white fountain bathed in the glow of yellow lights. Among the various races, Forsyth was a type of demilitarized zone. Within the boundaries of the park, there was no hunting, no fighting, and no spell casting. Anyone who broke this truce forfeited his or her life. It was here that most of my kind requested meetings with me. Of course, I could ignore the request. Unfortunately, the young nightwalker’s tension was thick in my thoughts and polluting the air. Such things were never good for keeping the peace.

  Threading an errant lock of red hair behind my ear, I continued west to the white fountain that rose up in the center of the park. The night was thick with the scent of flowers that overflowed from their beds. Despite the ongoing drought, this favored spot was well-tended by city officials, determined to maintain its verdant perfection. The soft splash of water hitting stone danced in the air, nearly overwhelming the steady swish of cars headed toward the hot spots along River Street.

  Joseph lounged on the low marble wall surrounding the fountain. His long legs were extended and crossed at the ankles. He wore a pair of dark dress slacks and a burgundy dress shirt open at the throat. Barely more than twenty years old, Joseph was still a baby among my kind. He had been a member of Riley’s flock, but at least was brought over with my approval. Only recently had Riley begun creating nightwalkers with careless abandon. Since Riley’s demise, Joseph stuck to the outskirts of my domain, determined to find his own way. He had also been wise enough to avoid me. I didn’t tolerate the young well.

  “This isn’t your part of town,” I said as I entered the park. He slid easily to his feet, but anxiety tightened like a rubber band in his frame. I could feel his emotions as clearly as if they were my own. Older vampires learned to shut the door of their mind. Joseph was still struggling.

  To make matters worse, I had surprised him. I shouldn’t have been able to, but his attention was divided at the moment. There was only one thing I could think of that would drive a fledgling vampire to seek me out: Danaus.

  “The symphony lets out in a few minutes. I thought I’d visit with the blue bloods tonight,” he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to affect a casual stance, but his legs were spaced wide apart, ready to run or fight.

  “Running low on funds?”

  Other than a slight twitch of his right eye, his bored expression never wavered. We all started out that way, a mix of bloodsucker and pickpocket. Most didn’t appreciate being reminded of it. Joseph’s normal hunting grounds were the narrow strip that housed most of the nightclubs as well as the scattering of bars not far from the university. Aesthetically speaking, those areas were more pleasing to the eye and generally more entertaining. Unfortunately, the college crowd wasn’t the greatest source of income.

  “We’re not all as lucky as you,” he said.

  “Everything comes with a price.” I strolled closer, vaguely aware of the scattering of people spread about the area. However, none were close enough to overhear our conversation. The steady rush of traffic flowing past us also kept our words muffled against the curious. I stopped before him, gazing into his hazel eyes. The gentle tug of his powers teased at my mind as he tried to enthrall me. He couldn’t help it. He had not yet learned to control it. Humans would fall to his every whim, but if he encountered anything else, it would most likely rip his throat out in irritation.

  I ran my left hand up his chest and was starting to wrap it around his throat when he jerked away. It was an instinctive move, showing a distinct lack of trust. I had to only arch one eyebrow at him in question before he returned to my side, tilting his head to offer up his throat. Seizing his neck, I forced him to sit back on the low wall.

  “You are pressing your luck.” I struggled to keep from gritting my teeth as I spoke, keeping my cool, patient facade in place for any onlookers.

  “The truce,” he said, reminding me needlessly that we were still standing in the park.

  I smiled down at him, exposing my pearly white fangs. “The truce keeps us from fighting. It does not save you from punishment.” Beneath my hand the muscles in his neck stiffened as a new fear entered his mind. His hands tightened their grip on the rim of the fountain.

  The life of a nightwalker was about power and control. Those at the top of the food chain had all the power and wielded absolute control over anything below. Those weaker had to bow or be broken.

  Joseph had come to me, and I needed to see a little subservience if he wanted to stay in my good graces. I wasn’t the type that needed an assortment of toadies following me about. But to maintain my position as Keeper of the city, I would be feared.

  “Lucky for you, I have no interest in toying with you tonight,” I said. “Let’s get on with business. Why have you requested this meeting?”

  “They say
you fought the Butcher,” Joseph said.

  I released his throat and slid my fingers under his chin in a gentle caress before my hand fell limp to my side. “Butcher” was what many of the young ones were calling Danaus; understandable, given that he’d carved up several of us like so much meat.

  “We have met.” I shrugged, ambling a few feet away, my arms swinging loosely at my side. Two couples strolled across the park, their loud laughter drifting through the open area as they headed toward any one of the several bed and breakfast hotels that surrounded the park.

  “But he’s still in town.” The poor boy sounded so confused. He obviously expected me to either eject Danaus from my domain or kill him. That was all part of the plan, but I wasn’t about to burn through such a great opportunity in one quick fight. Unfortunately, Danaus had become more of a problem that just an efficient hunter. He had come to my domain specifically looking for me. Nightwalkers aren’t exactly listed in the phone book. We’re notoriously difficult to locate unless you are a nightwalker yourself, or a member of our trusted inner circle. Before killing Danaus, I needed to know what he was and how he came to find me. And if I was being honest with myself, I wanted to know what he knew of the naturi. There was more to his offhand comment, considering very few even knew the name, let alone anything about the race.

  Pushing those concerns aside for a moment, I turned my attention back to the fledgling. “Are you questioning my methods?” My tone came out light and innocent sounding, but Joseph was no fool.

  “No! Of course not!” He lurched to his feet and hurried to my side. “I’m young. I’m still trying to learn our ways. I want to understand.” He took my left hand and pressed it back to his throat, offering himself to me. Smooth, diplomatic, placating, with just a hint of humility. He was good. There was hope for him yet.