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Awesome that her blend was being so well received. But that much more? The suitcase was six times the size of the lunchbox. She’d have to work on the blend every day until the next pickup.
Business? She’d thought Mauritius was distributing her blend free of charge. Well, perhaps he had to charge a small price to cover expenses. Ichor wasn’t free—at least not in the form she required—and he did pay her for her work.
“There’s cash inside to cover any additional expenses you might incur,” the vampiress said. “Can I tell him you’re on board?”
“Uh...” She’d hate to disappoint. And she had developed an amazing blend. It felt good to be in demand. For once in her life, Zoë had accomplished something important. Her father would be proud. “Certainly. I, uh, I’ve never made such a large batch. But I’ll give it a try.”
“You do that. Same time next week. I’d say it’s been a pleasure, witch, but that would be a lie.”
Lunchbox tucked under an arm, the vampiress strolled down the sidewalk and across the street toward the waiting car. She always arrived via the backseat of a fancy limo. Zoë didn’t know her name. Only that she truly needed a stylist, because with a little work—and heavy metal removal—the woman could be stunning.
“Vampires,” she muttered.
But she didn’t follow with a scathing remark. She had many vampire friends. The very reason she made these Sunday morning meetings was for vampires.
“They need me. And I won’t disappoint.”
* * *
The Order of the Stake headquarters was situated in an old cathedral that offered tours of the nave during the week to tourists who had no clue a secret order devoted to extinguishing vampires existed just beneath their footsteps. An Order employee had been hired specifically for the tours and to handle the affairs topside.
While the Order dated back four centuries to inception, this building had been in use for a little over two centuries, and they’d had no problems with civilians discovering the truth bustling about beneath the stone floors.
Kaz swiped his key card and entered a secret door a few buildings down from the cathedral. He descended the stairs to the underground passageway that led to the main Order rooms.
It always gave him a shiver as he passed through the limestone passageway. It was cold down here and smelled like death, always reminding him of the labyrinthine network that ran beneath all of Paris. Hundreds of miles of tunnels that plunged down as far as seven stories. So much took place beneath the city proper it would stun, bemuse and even frighten most mortals.
Here on the lower level were Rook’s office, a gym and training area and lockers. As well, the research lab offered computers that linked other worldwide Order posts with a massive database of the paranormal breeds. While vampires were their focus, they did like to keep tabs on other breeds, because interaction often led to discovery.
The lab was quiet today. Kaz usually only ran into Tor down here. The Order’s spin master did a lot of research because his job required he know the breeds inside and out—as well as how their legend and myth had been formed in the minds of the mortals. Turning truth back into myth was a tricky job, but someone had to do it to protect the integrity of the organization.
The Mac computer silently flashed a screensaver of circles raked into a Zen sand garden. Kaz entered his password and opened the database. He also connected his cell phone because the program would automatically update his mobile files and kill stats. He loved technology, and his phone was also hooked up to a funky security system for his home, and everything was Wi-Fi.
In seconds he found a file on Switch that had been updated within the past few years. A vampire created roughly eight years ago, give or take a few months. Pre-vampirism, Switch had been known to work odd jobs, such as auto mechanic, tour barge operator and even a stint at the Moulin Rouge as a burlesque dancer. Once inducted into the league of longtooths, she’d never officially joined a tribe, but preferred to hang with some of the local tribes for months at a time before going off on her own again.
Vail had mentioned something about her hooking up with tribe leaders.
“The chick goes for the guy in charge. She’s not stupid,” Kaz muttered as he read further.
She was a bruiser and known to cause problems. No human losses had been associated with her vampiric activity—a good thing. Kaz did not like to kill females, but he would, if necessary. Yet Vail had also mentioned she did wet work. Did she stalk her own breed? Maybe she had a thing for taking out werewolves? The two breeds, though supposedly in accord with one another, could never shrug off their ingrained hatreds.
Werewolves were a breed Kaz avoided with a passion. When they shifted to their werewolf shape, he ran in the opposite direction. Most smart—and still breathing—knights did.
A few final notes detailed her possible age at mid-twenties. Switch was most often found on the right bank, sixteenth through eighteenth arrondissements, so he assumed she must also live in that area.
Zoë lived in the eighteenth. Too close to the area he’d targeted for investigation.
Kaz sat back, closing his eyes from the screen strain, and smiled. “Cerulean,” he whispered. “Who’da thought I’d like that color?”
His thoughts wandered, and the memory of Zoë’s stunningly intense kisses broadened his smile. Zoë with the bright blue eyes that seemed to look for things inside him even he wasn’t aware existed. Zoë with the mysterious scar dashing her cheek, which didn’t lessen her appeal, but did make him want to learn how it had happened so he could crush the offender’s skull. Ex-boyfriend? He hoped not. Maybe it had been a car accident?
Scars were plenty in his world; that was for sure. Kaz bore his own inner scars, and a few on the surface. He could fight vampires fist to fist and win, but a well-matched fight usually ended in a new battle scar. And a pile of ash. His kill count was high, and would remain so, because the damned vamps kept making more.
He wondered if Zoë was aware of the paranormal world that existed around her, and then decided she was lucky to remain naive. Good thing he’d been able to avoid staking the vamps while she had been watching last night. He would have hated to introduce her to all things fanged and vicious in such an abrupt manner.
Despite every molecule in his being that warned how difficult it was for him to commit to any kind of relationship, he definitely wanted to see her again. Because man could not survive by the fight alone. He needed kisses, and skin contact and all that messy, exciting stuff involved with sex.
And how could the rescuing knight not return for the damsel?
Yet could he manage it without bringing along the danger of the world he lived in?
“Rothstein.”
He hadn’t heard Rook enter the lab, and stood quickly to face his supervisor. Initially his teacher, Rook had also become Kaz’s mentor over the years. The man had a way about him. Stealthy and silent as the wind, Rook was a master of all martial arts. After Kaz had earned his trust and a bed in the Order’s broom closet to sleep after a long, grueling day of training, Rook had trained Kaz for a year before he’d been knighted by the founder, King, and officially accepted into the Order. At seventeen, Kaz had been the youngest knight to take vows.
Live to serve. Serve until death. Die fighting. Words he lived by.
“Afternoon, Rook.” The name was a moniker, he knew, and Kaz had no curiosity about his real name. In a job like this, a man had to protect himself with every measure available.
Rook leaned in and read the computer screen. “What’s she up to? Is Switch involved in the faery-dust incident?”
“Possibly. It’s a lead my informant gave me.”
“She’s all sorts of suspicious, but I’d never task her with human murders. Werewolves, on the other hand...”
That answered Kaz’s suspicion about what sort of wet work the vampiress did.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about something since assigning you this job,” Rook said. “If this new blend of faery dust—”
“They’re calling it Magic Dust.”
“Is that so? Huh. Well, if it is making vampires go after one another, maybe we should stand back and let them at it. That solves our problem, doesn’t it?”
“But that’s the thing. The longtooths aren’t killing one another for this new blend. It’s different than the usual stuff. It—I don’t know—it won’t let them go. It’s as if it builds up in their system and never shuts off, which compels them to seek more of the dust.”
“Like meth,” Rook commented.
“Yes.” Kaz had researched methamphetamine just days ago. “The drug turns on the dopamine in the brain and never shuts it off. It’s like an overflowing faucet. Unfortunately, vampires on this stuff go ape-shit for anything sparkly, thinking it’s faery dust. They murdered my friends, Rook. I will make it stop.”
Rook crossed his arms over his chest, an uncharacteristic move. He was always on the alert, hands free at his sides, prepared. He shook his head. “Family and friends are never safe once ensconced in your world.”
He knew that. And that was the toughest pill to swallow.
“Don’t let sorrow for your friends jeopardize your focus out in the field, Kaspar.”
Kaz lifted his chin.
“You want revenge for the death of your friends? I gave it to you with this assignment. But first and foremost, we need to get to the core of the operation and find the origin of this insipid drug.”
“I will do that.”
“Not if you take out the vampire who killed your friends in a blind rage. Keep your wits about you, man. You’ll need him to lead you to the operation.”
“I’m aware of that, and intend to do just that.”
The knights vowed only to slay those vamps that presented a clear threat to humans. Of course, each knight had his own scale of gauging threat level. Kaz counted the vampire lethal when he killed, and not before then. The vampire who had killed his friends was still out there. And he had only one fang. That should go a long way in identifying his perp.
“Once this Magic Dust circulates and becomes easy to obtain,” Kaz said, “half the vampire population in Paris could flip out.”
Rook sighed and tapped the computer screen. “And you think Switch can lead you to the source? She’s a hard one.”
“So it seems. But it’s the best lead I’ve got.”
“Don’t let this become a war. The last thing the Order needs is a human to see the veil pulled aside and witness hunters staking vampires.”
As had almost happened the other night when Zoë had stumbled onto the slaying.
“Make it quick, clean and quiet, Rothstein.”
“I will.”
“Keep me apprised,” Rook said, and he walked out, leaving the lab door open.
Kaz reread the info on Switch. There were a few details that would aid him in overpowering her. One being that it was believed a vamp from the Anakim tribe had created her (though that information was only hearsay). That tribe of vampires was not immune to sunlight.
Sunset would be the optimal time to go looking for her.
* * *
Walking home from the grocery store, Zoë inhaled the evening air. She loved crisp, cool autumn. In this kind of weather she often wore ankle boots and tweed slacks and a snuggly, solid-colored sweater, along with her mother’s diamond pendant at her neck. Classic and cozy.
In her recyclable bag, fresh veggies nestled against a crusty baguette. The celery, leeks and potatoes would make a nice stew that should last her—and Sid—a few days. Now that she needed to increase production for her buyer, she would be working nights through the week.
Now, if only Luc would give her a call. She’d stopped by his apartment last week, but no one was home. She felt sure it was tough getting over a broken engagement, but to fall victim to such an addictive drug as faery dust? She’d thought Luc stronger than that, but then again, she knew he had a dark side that sometimes lured him to do things out of character. Best to give him the distance his very soul must require.
Turning the corner toward her house, she passed by the narrow alley that was heaped with the neighbor’s discarded, bent-iron bed frame. Kicking the fallen leaves, she delighted in the schushing chorus that responded.
Grunts echoed from down the cobbled alleyway, and she paused, stepping back beside a shed wall so as not to be seen as she peeked around the corner of the building.
About fifty yards away, three men and one woman stood over a fallen man. In seconds the man who had been prone leaped to his feet and swiped a threatening weapon toward his attackers. With each movement, the tails of his long, black leather coat dusted the air like bat wings.
Clinging to the rough brick, Zoë recognized one of the attackers. The vampiress with the bright pink hair—the very vampire she had hoped to never meet in a dark alley. She stood flanked by two others to her right and one to her left.
The other man, the object of the vampires’ scorn, was human. She recognized him, as well.
“Kaz,” she whispered, then checked herself to be sure she’d not spoken too loudly.
Why was he standing up to four vampires? And doing an excellent job of it, since he wasn’t bleeding or dead.
Yet.
Did the man pick a fight wherever he went? He’d easily taken down four men the previous night. But tonight’s opponents were vampires. They had double, or even triple the strength of the strongest human man, not to mention a supernatural agility and speed.
The vampiress chuckled and checked Kaz with an expert kick, which landed her high-heeled boot aside his jaw. Her henchmen followed closely with more brutal punishment. None went at Kaz alone; they attacked en masse. One wrenched Kaz’s arm around behind his back, which caused Kaz to cry out in pain.
Kaz fell to his knees. The guy was outnumbered.
“I just want to talk,” he managed, then spat blood to the side. “We don’t need to do this. I made no move to harm you or your buddies.”
Narrowing her gaze, Zoë saw that the weapon he held in his free hand was a stake. The very stake she’d stolen from him? How many people carried stakes on them unless they expected to get into a tussle with a vampire?
Why hadn’t she considered the possibility he was a hunter last night?
You were too googly-eyed at the time, remember?
Right. Rushing head-on into happily ever after and kicking her glass slippers aside with abandon.
A kick to Kaz’s back flattened him. His head was crunched under one of the vampiress’s boot heels, and blood sputtered from his mouth.
Zoë cringed. The urge to rush for him, to help him in some way, had her teetering on the balls of her feet—but she wasn’t stupid. If Kaz couldn’t stand against the vampires, what could one feeble witch do but make it ten times worse?
From where she stood, she could fling some magic at them, but again, that would draw unnecessary attention to her. And she couldn’t feel the magic that normally hummed at the tips of her fingers because right now she was anxious. She could never access her magic unless she was calm.
“Don’t kill him,” she muttered as the female bent and wrenched up Kaz’s head by a hank of his hair.
Fangs exposed, the vampiress lunged for Kaz’s neck, yet the tips of those fangs did not prick skin. Releasing Kaz as if electrocuted, the vampiress jumped back, cursed and smacked a fist into her palm as she again swore aggressively.
Spitting on the fallen man, whose eyelids fluttered, the vampiress hissed something Zoë could not hear. Then she marched off, her henchmen in tow.
They didn’t intend to kill him? Rarely did a vampire let a human go free without, at least, a bite. And all encounters were usually removed from the human’s mind with persuasion, a means to enthrall the memory from their minds. It hadn’t appeared as if any of the vampires had taken the time to enthrall Kaz.
Zoë waited until the vampires were out of sight, then dashed down the alley and squatted beside the fallen man. He bled from his mouth, ear and his split knuckles. Apparently, he’d gotten in a few good punches.
The stake he’d wielded lay beside his head. Acting on some sort of emergency autopilot, she shoved the stake inside his inner coat pocket, then lifted him by the shoulders. Her heel slipped on the leaf-strewn cobbles as her struggles nearly toppled her. He was heavy, and he wasn’t helping her much because he was bleary. Zoë noticed his coat collar was edged with blades. She hadn’t noticed them the other night. Strange fashion statement. She had to be careful not to get cut.
“You need to get out of here before they come back. I don’t know why she didn’t bite you. You’re one lucky guy. Come on. I’m going to help you to stand, but you’re a big guy. You gotta do some work, too. Kaz?”
With a mumbling grunt, he struggled to his feet as if drunk. She suspected that the bruise on his temple had him dancing in and out of consciousness. But he managed to hook an arm over her shoulder and stumbled along beside her. She had to abandon the grocery bag. With luck, she could run back to get it before someone nabbed it or a rat found the booty.
Zoë led him toward her home, maneuvered him through the door and deposited him on the couch in the living room. It took some delicate finessing to get the coat off his shoulders without cutting herself. His black T-shirt had torn to reveal a monstrous bruise below his ribs and along the side of his torso. A kidney shot. That one must have hurt like a mother.
“You’re going to need a magical touch,” she said. “Fortunate for you, I can help you with that.”
She stood over him, spread her feet and smacked her palms together. Rubbing them slowly to heat her palms, she recited a healing spell, closing her eyes and focusing on the resonation of her voice as it touched the air. The healing she performed went beyond herbs and potions that most Light witches used. Her father had taught her this magic, and she used it in all aspects of her magical needs.
Words fading, but sound rising, she hummed deep in her throat, centering the vibrations in her chest as she laid her hands over Kaz’s body.
At what she knew was an electrifying touch, Kaz’s chest pulsed upward and his arms flailed. Alert, he moaned, looked down over what she was doing, then, still discombobulated, settled back into the couch. Zoë spread her palms over his chest and shoulders and down his arms and hands, humming constantly to maintain the magic’s resonance. At his ribs, she concentrated the healing vibrations.
