Chapter One
Leigh was only a block and a half from home when she
noticed the footsteps echoing her own. At first she didn’t
think anything of it. This was Kansas. Nothing ever
happened here, especially not at five in the morning. Even
Dorothy and Toto had to get picked up by a tornado and
dropped somewhere else for adventure to come their way.
Of course, this was Kansas City, not some backwater town.
There was crime in the city. It was also five o’clock in
the morning, and she was a lone woman walking down a dark
street that – while a residential area of old houses with
families – was also only a couple of blocks from the
downtown core where the homeless and druggies tended to
concentrate.
A shiver of unease crept up Leigh’s spine as she became
aware that the footsteps behind her had picked up speed and
were drawing nearer. She’d walked this route hundreds of
times over the last five years and never once felt
uncomfortable…and didn’t like that she now was. Telling
herself to stay calm, she tried to recall what she’d been
taught to do in self-defense class, but, of course, now
that she needed it, her brain was blanking on her.
Wasn’t that always the way?
She felt her muscles begin to tense as the footsteps
continued to draw nearer, and feared if she didn’t do
something soon, it might be too late.
The thought spurred her into action. Changing direction,
Leigh cut toward the curb to cross the street, casting a
nonchalant glance back as she did, as if looking for
traffic. The glance didn’t reassure her. The person
approaching was a man; tall, slender, and dressed in dark
clothes. She couldn’t see his face, however; it was in
shadow, thanks to the hood of his jacket. All she’d managed
to do with her quick glance was make herself more
uncomfortable, more on edge. More scared.
Acting as if she weren’t troubled by his presence, Leigh
started across the street, her mind now considering and
discarding possibilities of what she should do. A glance
around the dark house-lined street ahead told her she was
on her own, there wasn’t a car or pedestrian to be seen. No
help there.
She really should have taken a taxi home, she acknowledged,
but had never had a problem before, why should she have
thought this morning would be any different? Besides, it
was too late for regrets, they weren’t if going to get her
anywhere.
Leigh felt her heart squeeze tight as the footsteps
followed her across the street. Now her gaze was sharp as
she scanned the houses she passed, searching for any sign
of life, trying to deduce which she should approach for
help. This was a quiet residential street, the houses in
darkness, people having long retired for the night and not
yet rising. She appeared to be the only person in this area
who worked late and was still up.
Coco’s, the restaurant/bar she owned, closed at 3:00 a.m..
Well, the bar closed then, the restaurant area closed much
earlier. Leigh managed the bar at night. Once the last
customer trundled out and the cleaning crew set to work,
she retired to her back office to do paperwork; filling out
the work schedules, checking time cards, writing up orders,
checking the day's receipts, and so on. She was usually
done about the same time as the cleaners. Otherwise, she
waited for them to finish, saw them out, locked up and
headed home…always between 5:00. and 5:30 a.m., that dark
predawn time when most criminals were tucked in bed.
Just as everyone on this road appeared to be, Leigh
thought, her heart sinking. Then she spotted a porch light
pop on several houses up. A moment later the front door
opened and an older lady in a housecoat appeared. The woman
didn’t notice her coming up the street, her attention on
the German shepherd who slipped past her to pad eagerly
down the steps onto the front lawn.
“Waking me up before dawn.” The woman’s annoyed mutter
carried clearly in the near silence. “You should have gone
when I took you out for your walk earlier.”
Leigh's heart lifted. A safe port in the storm. She could
seek shelter from the woman and call the police, or maybe
just a taxi. Surely the dog’s presence would discourage the
man following her from making a nuisance of himself?
She put on a burst of speed and opened her mouth to call
out, but that was as far as she got. She never heard the
man behind her pick up speed, never realized he’d rushed
forward. Suddenly he was there before her, forcing her to
an abrupt halt.
“Hello, Leigh.”
The sound of her name made her pause with confusion, then
the man shrugged the hood off his head, revealing his face.
“Donny?” She said with surprise, relief coursing through
her. Donny Avries had worked the bar at Coco’s for a year.
He was always eager to please and a hard worker. Milly --
Leigh’s friend, and her day manager in the restaurant --
claimed he had a crush on her and had begged for steady
night shifts to be near her, but Liegh thought that was
nonsense. They just got along well as friends. She'd been
terribly upset when he'd gone missing more than a week ago.
Usually prompt, and often even early for his shift, Donny
simply hadn't shown up on Monday night. Leigh had tried
calling his apartment, but there’d been no answer. When he
hadn’t shown up the next night, she’d called again, then
grown concerned and called his landlady to have her check
on him.
The woman reported that while everything looked fine in his
apartment, his cat was obviously hungry and the litter box
had been overflowing, suggesting he hadn’t been home for a
while. While there were no signs that he’d left on a
planned trip, she’d talked to people in the neighboring
apartments, and no one had seen Donny since he’d gone out
Saturday night with some friends. They’d decided to call
the police.
Now, a week later, the police had been to the restaurant
twice, asking questions and admitting that he appeared to
have disappeared. They told her to contact the station if
she heard from him.
“Where have you been?” Leigh asked, anger replacing
concern. She’d been worried sick about the man, and here he
stood, apparently fine and well.
Donny hesitated, then said simply, “You’ll see.”
Leigh blinked at his answer, not finding it acceptable
after all her concern. And frankly, the words -- as well as
the odd smile on his face -- were creeping her out. There
was also something strange about his eyes.
“No, I won’t see,” she said firmly. Her fear had now fully
turned to anger, and she was no longer in the mood to hear
what he had to say for himself. Turning on her heel, she
continued in the direction she’d been heading. “You can
explain yourself tomorrow when you come by to pick up your
severance pay.”
She'd taken only a few steps before, unaccountably,
stopping, her body going limp. She heard the soft thud as
her purse slid from her lifeless hands and landed on the
grassy verge along the sidewalk, then found herself slowly
turning back. Donny was no longer alone; another man stood
beside him. He was tall and lanky, with long, straw-colored
hair that hung in greasy strips around a thin pale face. He
also had yellow-brown eyes that seemed to glow.
If her sudden lack of control over her own body hadn’t been
enough to scare her, one glimpse of this man’s dead eyes
was enough to make her blood turn to ice.
“Hello, Leigh. Donny's told me a lot about you.” He smiled,
and she saw his two canine teeth slide down and forward to
form two pointed fangs.
Some part of her mind shut off at the sight, telling her it
wasn’t real, that it wasn’t ready to accept it as real and
it was going to sleep now. But she snapped back with horror
when the man abruptly swooped forward, enveloping her in
the darkness that seemed to surround him. She felt a pinch
on her throat, then excitement and pleasure rushed through
her like a drug.
“Ah,” Donny complained from somewhere beyond the shoulder
blocking her view. “I wanted to be the one to bite her.”
Leigh blinked at the whiney sound to his voice, even as the
pleasure invading her faltered and the man before her
muttered something against her throat.
“What?” Donny asked. He moved into view as he tapped the
man’s shoulder. “What did you say?”
The man muttered again, something again that came out
sounding like, “’Huh-uh!” Then he lifted his head with an
impatient tsk and glared over his shoulder at Donny.
“Shut up!” he snapped, and some part of Leigh’s mind
thought, Ohhh, that’s what he’d said.
“I am the master vampire,” he went on. “I am the one who
sires new children of the night.”
Leigh’s eyes widened at his words. Vampires?
She supposed it was hard not to accept that when the guy’s
fangs were flashing with every word and there was blood on
his tips. Hers, she presumed. She could feel warm liquid
running down her throat and dampening the front of her
white blouse. It was coming from the spot where he’d nipped
her, and she suspected it was blood, so…a vampire? Okay.
But “children of the night?” That sounded a bit corny and
too late-night-movie to her.
That’s when she realized that she might have lost it.
Having such thoughts in the midst of this situation just
didn’t seem all that healthy. Unfortunately, she realized
it wasn’t just her body she couldn’t control. Her mind felt
woozy, as if she’d been given a tranquilizer. Her thoughts
were her own, but she couldn’t seem to work up much concern
over what was happening. While her mind was urging her to
scream her head off, she just couldn’t seem to work up any
fear, or the energy to even yell.
“That is because you are under my control,” the man holding
her announced, as if he’d read her thoughts, and Leigh
supposed he had. Weren’t vampires supposed to be able to
control their victim’s minds? Of course, they were also
supposed to be irresistibly attractive and suave.
Unfortunately Donny was just your average red-haired,
freckle-faced guy, and Mr. I-Am-the-Master-Vampire wasn’t
particularly handsome…or charismatic either, for that
matter. Really, it was all rather disappointing when she
thought about it.
A low growl drew her attention to Mr. Master Vampire, and
she noted with some concern that he looked kind of pissed
off.
“You will change your mind,” he growled, staring into her
eyes. “You will want me uncontrollably, desire me beyond
all others, obey me without question.”
It was the obey thing where he lost her. Leigh wasn’t big
on the word. It had been her ex-husband’s favorite order…
usually just before he tried to use his fists to convince
her. It was the main reason he became an ex.
“Hey, Morgan,” Donny protested, his voice again
whiny. “What are you doing? We’re supposed to be turning
her for me.”
“Shut up, Donald,” Morgan snapped. His eyes were narrowed
on Leigh, and she suspected he was beginning to realize she
wasn’t completely under his spell. She knew for sure she
was right when he asked, “How can you be thinking? You
shouldn’t be thinking, but I can hear your thoughts.”
Leigh had no idea why, either. If she’d been able to, she
would have shrugged in response. Unfortunately, while her
mind was somewhat her own, her body was not.
A growl distracted Morgan and he glanced down to the side.
Leigh still couldn’t move her head, but her eyes did angle
down and she caught a fuzzy glimpse of a dog. She
recognized it at once as the German shepherd she’d seen
come out of the house up the street. For a moment she
thought the animal might yet save her, but then Morgan
flashed his fangs in a sort of half hiss, half growl, and
the dog backed off, head low, teeth bared, but his own
growl losing some of it’s strength.
“Morgan,” Donny began nervously, eyeing the German shepherd
who was still close enough to be worrisome.
“Oh, do shut up, Donald,” the Master Vampire said with
exasperation. Then, to her surprise, he scooped her into
his arms and started back across the street.
Donny followed. He was muttering under his breath with
resentment, Leigh noted, glancing over the shoulder of the
man carrying her. Then her view was obstructed as Morgan
carried her around the back of a black van. She'd crossed
the road just two car lengths before the van earlier, and
now suspected it was where Morgan had appeared from. She
was sure it had only been one set of footsteps following
her up the street. Donny’s. Morgan, she supposed, had been
waiting in the van, and if she hadn’t crossed the street,
the side door of the van probably would have opened as she
passed and she’d have been dragged inside.
Leigh suspected she'd forced them to change plans when
she’d crossed the street.
“You’re a clever girl,” Morgan said as he set her in the
back of the van. “That’s exactly what happened.”
He'd obviously read her mind again, Leigh realized as he
climbed in after her. Donny closed the doors behind them,
and a moment later she heard the driver’s door open. The
van shifted a bit on its wheels as he got in the driver's
seat.
“I don’t know why you still have control of some of your
faculties, but it intrigues me,” Morgan announced, lifting
her into his lap so that she leaned back against his right
arm as the van’s engine roared to life.
Woo-hoo, she thought dryly. She’d impressed a blood-sucking
vampire.
Morgan seemed amused by her thoughts. At least, a smile
curved his lips, but his voice was deadly serious as he
announced, “And you shall be a blood-sucking vampire, too.
Will you like me better then, I wonder? Once I am your
sire?”
Leigh was trying to decide if he meant from the bite he’d
given her or if he’d have to bite her two more times, like
in the books and movies, when he abruptly raised his left
wrist to his mouth and sliced open a vein with one of his
fangs.
Oh, that is so totally gross, she thought.
“Yes,” Morgan agreed as if she’d spoken aloud. “And it
hurts like a bugger, believe me. However, it is necessary,
I’m afraid.”
Leigh was still trying to sort out why it would be
necessary when her mouth suddenly opened of its own accord
and he pressed his bleeding wrist to her lips. The tinny
liquid poured over her teeth and across her tongue. She was
forced to swallow or choke on it. She swallowed.
****
Dry grass and dead branches crunched under Lucian
Argeneau’s boots as he approached the van parked in the
trees at the edge of the property. Two men stood by the
open back doors, choosing and checking weapons in the gray
predawn light. Like himself, they were dressed all in black
and were over six feet tall. Both were also muscular and
had short hair, but one was a brunet and the other a blond.
“Are we set?” he asked, running one hand through his own
short ice-blond hair.
“Set,” Bricker -- the brunet -- said calmly as he leaned
into the van to grab two cans of gasoline. “How do you want
to do this?”
Lucian shrugged, unable to find any real enthusiasm for the
task ahead. He’d done this so many times over the years
that there was little challenge to it anymore. He found it
more interesting to track down the nests than to clear them
out, but even that was less challenging than it used to be.
It didn’t help that this was Morgan they were going after.
He had been a best friend to Lucian’s twin brother, Jean
Claude, right up until the other man’s death a few years
earlier. The two men had been thick as thieves for
centuries, and because of that, Lucian had counted the man
as a friend as well. So much so that when the first
whispers and rumors that Morgan had turned rogue started,
Lucian ignored them, sure they couldn’t be true. The rumors
had persisted, however, and he’d had to look into the
matter, though not enthusiastically. Now, here he stood,
the rumors confirmed and Morgan marked for death.
“Here comes the sun,” Mortimer murmured, and then repeated
Bricker’s question, “How do you want to do this?”
Lucian blinked away his thoughts and took in the first rays
of sunlight creeping up to drive away the night. This was
the best time to hit. Everyone would be returned to the
nest by now and settling in to sleep the day away.
Because -- of course -- vampires didn’t walk during the
day, he thought dryly as his gaze slid over the surrounding
trees, then finally to the decrepit house where Morgan had
holed up with the pack of rogues he was creating. It looked
bad in this light, but was worse -- he knew -- in daylight,
when the sun baked down cruelly on the flaking paint, the
boarded-over windows, and the weed-tangled lawn.
How the rogues chose to live never failed to amaze him. It
was as if -- once their mind snapped and they decided to
become the scourge of the earth -- they believed normal,
civilized homes were beyond them. Or perhaps they were
simply living down to what mortals thought they were,
hoping to lure and hold their pack members in thrall that
way. After all, if mortals knew how little magic immortals
truly had, they might find it less attractive to be one, or
at least to be their servants.
Shaking off these cynical thoughts, Lucian glanced toward
the other two men and finally gave his answer. “The same as
always.”
Nodding, Mortimer closed the van doors, took the larger gas
can from Bricker, and the three of them moved to the edge
of the woods. They paused, their gazes sliding over the
windows once again. There was no sign of movement from the
house, but half the windows were boarded up so that didn’t
mean much.
“Do we give them a couple more minutes to settle in, or--”
Mortimer’s question died, and they all glanced around as
the sound of a vehicle disturbed the silence. They watched
in silent surprise as a dark van turned into the driveway
and crunched up the gravel lane.
“Hmm,” Lucian said, with his first real spark of interest.
This was different. Usually the “vampires” would have been
in-house by now, if not already snug in the coffins they
seemed to favor.
They moved back a bit into the trees to be less visible. As
they watched, the van parked close to the house, then the
driver jumped out and ran around to open the rear doors.
Lucian stiffened as Morgan swept out of the van, a brunette
in his arms. Dressed in a short black skirt and a
bloodstained white blouse, her eyes shot over the house and
yard as if seeking an escape, but the way she lay limp in
Morgan’s arms told him that the rogue immortal had taken
control of her body. There would be no escape.
“That’s Leigh,” Mortimer murmured with a frown.
“She works the bar at Coco’s. The restaurant we’ve eaten at
all week,” Bricker explained and Lucian grunted. Justin
Bricker was young enough that he still ate, and Garrett
Mortimer went along to keep him company and sometimes
picked at food.
Lucian didn’t bother with food, but he’d heard a lot this
week about the "pretty little thing" who’d served them
their late meals in the bar. They both seemed taken with
her charm and sense of humor, and he supposed this Leigh
was the "pretty little thing" in question. Certainly,
neither man seemed pleased to see her being carried up the
porch steps, obviously about to become Morgan’s latest
victim.
“We have to help her,” Bricker said.
Mortimer nodded in agreement. “Yeah.”
“She could be willing,” Lucian pointed out, though there
had been something in her eyes that suggested she wasn’t.
Both men were silent, their gazes locked on the woman
Morgan was carrying into the house.
“No. She isn’t,” Mortimer said with certainty as the door
closed behind the trio. He sounded grim and angry. Mortimer
rarely got angry.
Bricker agreed, “No, she isn’t.”
Shrugging, Lucian turned his gaze back to the house. “We
should give them ten minutes or so to settle in for the
night.”
“But the longer we wait, the worse it could be for Leigh,”
Bricker protested.
"He's already bitten her and given her his own blood,"
Mortimer pointed out, obviously having gained the news from
her thoughts when he'd read her. "There isn't much more
he'd bother doing to her before she finishes turning."
Bricker frowned and glanced at Lucian. "We're taking her
out of there, right?" When Lucian hesitated, he
argued, "She hasn't bitten anyone yet, and doesn't want to
be there. Leigh’s a nice lady."
“We'll see," Lucian said finally.
Realizing it was all he’d get for now, Bricker fell silent,
but he looked worried.
Lucian ignored him and proceeded to examine his equipment.
He gave his crossbow a once-over, then counted the
specially made wooden arrows in the quiver strapped to his
leg. Satisfied that all was in order there, he retrieved
the gun from his pocket, checking to see that it was fully
loaded and the safety was on before putting it back.
Lucian glanced toward the house, impatient to get things
going. Then he forced himself to wait the full ten minutes,
but the moment the digital face of his watch said that time
had passed, his hand tightened on his crossbow and he
started forward without a word.
Mortimer and Bricker fell into step on either side of him
as he emerged from the trees and approached the dilapidated
house. They mounted the front porch as silently as
possible.
“Careless,” Mortimer murmured when Lucian turned the knob
and the door opened. The red-haired guy hadn’t bothered to
lock it. Lucian wasn’t terribly surprised. If he was newly
turned, the man would see himself as invincible, and none
of Morgan’s followers should be more than a month or so
old. That was when the first whispers that Morgan had gone
rogue started.
The three men eased into the house, eyes alert, ears
straining for any sound. As expected, the upper floor
appeared deserted. After setting the cans of gasoline in
the kitchen, they separated to make a thorough, silent
search of the top two floors, just to be sure. Once
finished, they regrouped in the kitchen and approached the
door they knew led to the basement.
Lucian was thorough by nature and had trained anyone who
worked with him to be so, to. They always sought out all
the information they could on a nest before approaching it.
Knowing the layout made things much easier, and this time
they’d managed to track down the daughter of the previous
owner. The woman had sold the house when her mother died,
but had grown up there and knew it well. From her, they’d
learned all they could and even got a crude drawing of the
layout before erasing all memory of their visit.
Now, Mortimer and Bricker moved to the left-hand side of
the door while Lucian moved to the right. Once situated, he
nodded at the other two men, raised his crossbow and
reached for the doorknob with his free hand. That hand
froze an inch away when the knob began to turn on its own.
Lucian jerked his hand back and waited. The door only
opened halfway before the brunette named Leigh slid through
and took a cautious step into the kitchen.
As Lucian stared in amazement, her head slowly turned and
she blinked at the sight of him. He saw fear leap into her
eyes, and moved quickly, clasping one hand over her mouth
and drawing her silently away from the door so that her
back was pressed hard to his chest.
Her body briefly tensed, as if preparing to struggle, then
she abruptly went still. When Lucian glanced down, he saw
that her wide eyes were on Mortimer and Bricker on the
other side of the door. Both men were giving her what he
supposed were reassuring smiles. To him, they just looked
like a pair of idiots, but it apparently worked on Leigh.
As he watched, Bricker placed one finger to his mouth to
warn her to be quiet, while Mortimer stared at her with a
concentration that suggested he was sending her reassuring
thoughts and perhaps also the same silent warning. The
woman relaxed against Lucian, and he found himself
responding as her body molded to his, her bottom
unintentionally nestling his groin.
“I just fell asleep, Donald. I don’t appreciate being woken
up for this.”
Lucian stiffened as that voice floated up the stairs, aware
that Leigh had gone still. She was actually holding her
breath, he realized, and found he disliked that she was so
afraid.
“I’m sorry, sire,” someone – presumably Donald – responded,
but in truth he sounded more resentful than
apologetic. “But I’ve searched the basement and she-”
“Because she’s not going to hide in the basement. She’s
going to run, you idiot!” Morgan’s angry voice snapped back.
“But why? Why isn’t she willing?” Donald’s voice had turned
frustrated and even whiney.
“Not everyone wants to be a child of the night. I warned
you of that. I told you, you couldn't turn your back on her
for a moment until we have control over her. Not for a
damned moment! I told you that! She isn’t a willing turn.
Until she accepts me as master, she’ll try to run.”
“I just left her alone for a minute. I-”
“You shouldn’t have left her alone at all. Get her back and-
”
“But what if she’s outside? The sun’s coming up!”
“You wanted her. She’s--”
The words stopped short and Lucian felt himself stiffen
further. The voices had drawn closer with each passing
moment, and by his guess the speakers were at the bottom of
the steps now. The sudden silence seemed to suggest
something had given away their presence.
Lucian glanced at Mortimer and Bricker, but he was sure
neither man could be seen from below. Then he let his gaze
drop over the woman before him, and spotted the problem at
once. Lucian hadn’t pulled Leigh back far enough. She was
short, the top of her head barely reaching the base of his
throat, but she was generously proportioned and part of her
generous proportions were protruding past the edge of the
door in her bright white blouse.
“Is that a boob?” He heard Donald ask and Lucian closed his
eyes.
The ensuing silence was so long, he knew that Morgan was
seeking out Leigh’s mind and searching for information on
the situation at the top of the stairs. Lucian supposed it
would have been too much to hope that the man would just
assume she was a bimbo bartender too stupid to leave the
house and was standing up here contemplating her navel. No.
Morgan suspected something was up.
Knowing their surprise approach was now over, Lucian
shifted Leigh so he could lean forward and peer around the
edge of the door. On the other side of the door, Mortimer
did the same thing, and they found themselves staring at
two men frozen at the bottom of the wooden steps. Then all
hell broke loose.
Morgan and Donald suddenly spun and sped up the dark hall
below, breaking into a run as they slipped out of sight.
Bricker and Mortimer charged after them, and Lucian pulled
Leigh away from the door and pushed her into a chair at the
kitchen table.
“Stay,” he hissed, his gaze sliding over her face as he got
his first close-up look at her. She was a beautiful woman,
glossy chestnut waves of hair framing large, almond-shaped
eyes, a straight nose, and high cheekbones in an oval face.
She was also terribly pale and swaying in the chair,
leaving him to wonder just how much blood she’d lost.
He would have asked, but a burst of gunfire from below
recalled him to more urgent matters. Leaving her there,
Lucian turned away and hurried downstairs after his
comrades.