Embraced by Blood. Laurie London

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СКАЧАТЬ his expression blank as he recalled being a youthling in a Paris gaming house centuries ago, where less than candid recruiting methods had been used on him with devastating results.

      “We should have an ample supply of Sweet by then.”

      How were they planning to get more? Last year he’d helped thwart the Alliance’s plans to breed sweetblooded humans and had seen to it that all their research had been destroyed. Had he missed something? Were they starting up operations again?

      There was a huge market for the extremely rare, highly addictive type of human blood—the street price was astronomical. Sweetblood, Sangre Dulce, Devil’s Elixir—it was all the same. It shouldn’t be a surprise that they would be trying other methods to get their hands on it. If there was one thing he’d learned while spying on them from the inside, it was how tenacious they were. Like mongrels on a steak dinner.

      “How does the mistress plan to get it?”

      Sigred snapped her attention from the coed to him, her gaze narrowing slightly. Shit. He’d asked the question a little too quickly, or maybe the tone wasn’t right, or maybe he shouldn’t have been so confident in how he’d referred to the sector mistress.

      Alfonso gave her his best sheepish grin and rubbed the back of his neck. Hopefully, her bullshit meter wasn’t set too high. “I mean, isn’t it difficult to find Sweet? I know if I had some, I’d have a hard time saving it. You guys must have some serious willpower to keep from draining a sweetblood.”

      “You got that right,” the male replied. “Last time I ran across one it was with my old partner. Let me tell you, he had to pull me off the bitch because there’d be nothing left to sell. I went like fucking mad for a while—like a feeding frenzy—I couldn’t stop.”

      Maybe he’s the one who’s new. Most DBs got pretty good at capturing their victims, bringing them back to their dens, then draining their blood there. This one’s impatience and lack of control suggested inexperience.

      The male continued. “The sector mistress is turning a Tracker from the Agency to help find ‘em. Guess those guys can smell one from miles away. All we gotta do is follow the nose.”

      It was a sucker punch straight to the gut and panic flooded his veins like wildfire. He had to use every ounce of his training to keep the shock from showing on his face. Lily, his former lover, was a Tracker.

      “We don’t know that for sure.” Sigred’s laugh sounded forced. She was backpedaling; her partner had said too much. “That was just an idea someone bounced around. Everyone’s trying to get a piece of the action, making promises to have more Sweet available, staking out their territories. So far, it’s just been us here in Bellingham, but probably not for long.”

      Alfonso found himself thinking once more that he shouldn’t be surprised DBs were moving into areas they’d never been before. With Lord Pavlos, whom the Darkbloods reverently referred to as “the Overlord,” dead, the Alliance was going through a power struggle of sorts as potential leaders crawled out of the woodwork like rats, trying to make a name for themselves. The one who controlled the Sweet was the one with all the power, a fact he knew firsthand. A Sweet-laden Night of Wilding was sure to attract those living on the fringe of civilized vampire society and maybe a few who didn’t realize they could be tempted like that.

      “Ain’t it a bloody shame that you’ve got to share this small town?” Alfonso was relieved to notice that the girl was finally leaving.

      Should he try to take these two out? He wasn’t Agency—these guys weren’t his problem. The girl was safe.

      He tucked the weapons under his coat and thrust his hands into his pockets. Time to go home. He could last one more night without feeding.

      The blonde halted, turned back around and pinned him with that lazy eye of hers. “What was that?”

      “Huh?”

      “Did you just say ‘Ain’t that a bloody shame?’”

      “I don’t know. Did I?” He didn’t like the sudden change in her voice. He pulled his hands back out of his pockets and held them loosely at his sides.

      “You know, it’s funny,” she said. “I rode a day transport from Southern California to Seattle last year with a guy who was high up in the Alliance ranks. Didn’t get a good look at him, but that was his pet phrase. He must’ve said it a dozen times on the way up. Heard he turned out to be an Agency spy. The one responsible for the Overlord’s death.”

      Shit, shit, shit. She must’ve been one of those recruits in the back of the bus.

      “No kidding.” With his heart pounding, he turned to leave. He reached under his coat and grabbed the rope-wrapped handles again. His slow, measured footsteps echoed under the walkway. One … two … three.

      Keep walking. Don’t rush. Act casual and they won’t think anything of it. These two aren’t familiar. They don’t know me. Just keep going.

      “The name was Alfonso Serrano, I think,” Sigred called after him. “So tell us, friend, what’s yours?”

      Without hesitation, he spun around—they were drawing their weapons. He had one chance. With a flick of his wrists, the kunai cut through the air and landed simultaneously between their breastbones with a thunk.

      The male fell to the ground. The silver had penetrated his heart; he’d be a pile of ashes in moments. But the female was merely wounded.

      She dropped the blade in her hand and staggered sideways, away from the covered walkway. While the rain pummeled her face and plastered the hair across her cheeks, her fingers curled around the hilt of the kunai and pulled it from her chest. If he hadn’t known for a fact she had silver weapons of her own, he’d have waited it out until she collapsed from the energy drain. But she had his blade and who knew what else. He was just as susceptible to silver as they were and he certainly couldn’t outrun a silver bullet.

      In one motion, he leaped forward and retrieved his stake from the rapidly charcoaling male. The exertion and sudden movement made him dizzy. He staggered and fell to the bricks.

      “Fucking traitor,” Sigred hissed through clenched fangs as she lunged at him, kunai raised above her head.

      Summoning the last of his energy reserves, he scissored his legs, knocking her feet out from under her. As she fell, he aimed the tip of the retrieved kunai slightly to her left, several inches down from her shoulder. She landed on the blade, and with a little shimmy on his part, the razor-sharp tip scraped over bone, slid to the hilt between two ribs and hit home.

      He pushed her dead weight off and lay flat on the ground, that putrid Darkblood smell lingering in his nostrils.

      While the rain pounded his face, soaking his knit cap and jeans, he watched, completely spent, as her body folded inward and turned to ash, leaving behind only metal. From amidst the clothing rivets, zippers, coins, syringes, needles, a multitude of weapons and—oh yes—one glass eye, he fished out his other kunai and slowly pushed himself up.

      Let campus security think this was the remnant of a drug deal gone bad. He kicked everything around and crushed the vials, blood washing away in the rain. Although drinking it would’ve given him the strength he needed, he wasn’t about to consume blood taken from a killing. He was weak, but he still had morals.

      He СКАЧАТЬ