Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
TATE
The heat from the flames was getting closer. I needed to leave. He laid there, pinned against the floor by my body, my wrist at his throat. I dug the tip of my thumb in, pricking his skin. Blood bloomed where I squeezed. I leaned down and licked it up. It tasted remarkably good for a spoiled bag of blood like this man.
Ten innocents. He killed ten kids when he burned down the last apartment complex. Five of those children belonged to a foster family. He was an abomination to mankind and any death would be too kind for him.
His eyes were fully dilated, fear filled the air. I could taste it, a symphony to the iron on my tongue. He whimpered and I knew he’d beg for his life if I released enough pressure from his throat. I wouldn’t though. I smiled icily. Bending over, I brushed my lips next to his ear, slowly exhaling.
“Judith. Amy. Kyle. Roy. Trever. Nancy.” The names of the children he murdered. The ones he killed in cold blood. He shuddered and squirmed, trying to break free.
“Claire. Benny. Natalie. Hannah.” I looked into his eyes—a window to a dark soul. “You took their lives. Consider this justice.”
I lowered my mouth to his jugular and then clamped down. My fangs sink in slowly, lengthening the painful puncture. He screamed and it competed with the sound of the flames in the next room. The building would crumble, and his body would be the only one in the rubble. I had sounded the alarm and screamed 'fire' when the flames were but mere sparks.
The building was practically empty to begin with. He lived in a dump. The complex likely violated every regulation code there was, and anyone here was likely a convict and doped up on drugs like this bag of shit. I pulled deeply and filled my throat with his blood. It had been too long since I’d last fed. Feeding has always felt a bit at odds with my personality. In childhood, it had been rainbows and pink everything. Then , I’d had the warm embrace of my mother, the shelter of a safe home, and no concern as to whose blood I’d need to consume next. I was young. Now, all the warm safety of my childhood had been stripped leaving me to deal with the steel of the world. Now, I was both predator and prey.
Feeding was what my nature demanded. And grotesque as I once saw it, it felt right. Especially when I was feasting from a degenerate like the man beneath me. I needed to release him. I could start to feel the heat creeping up from below. This room would be engulfed in flames soon. I couldn’t drain his life force—it was against the rules of the Glenn. One more draw and then I’d release him and leave him to burn alive.
Images of those tiny corpses filled my mind. He had left them to burn, to die. He had been their foster dad and he had started the fire and left. He was a vile man. The pictures from Tim’s computer wouldn’t soon disappear. I still saw them when I laid awake at night. The small, charred teddy bear beside the body of an innocent soul—a mark that would forever scar my heart. They were human, I knew this. I shouldn’t care. I wasn’t supposed to care. Yet, some part of my DNA couldn’t leave it alone—I couldn’t feed from humans if I didn’t think they deserved it. It would be a fatal flaw had I not found a route around my conscience four years ago when I completed my turn. I was sixteen then, like all vampires, it was time to either transition or choose to live the life of a human…forever. Naturally, I chose the longer existence. My first mistake.
I drew again and began to withdraw but the flow down my throat was too sweet, it beckoned me further.
Sweat began to drip down my back, my forehead. Warm, very warm. The flames would be visible any minute.
Fire was fatal for my kind—a similarity we shared with humans. I should leave, should have already left, as I have no intention of going up in flames with him. But…the sweet iron liquid called to me. One more draw, just a little more. The cherry note to his blood was intoxicating.
I had been overfeeding lately; the past month I’d had an increase in both hunger and vengeance. It made sense. Or at least I believed so, given the date. One year ago today, my mother was taken from me. There would be no justice for her.
I could feel his body go limp beneath me. Crack! The sound of embers, of wood being swallowed whole by flames climbing the walls. Time was up. Closing my eyes, I drank. I pulled. I swallowed. His blood was almost gone, just a few drops remained. Two more drags and there was hardly anything left. But…I couldn’t stop. The high from draining took over. My head swam, and adrenaline swallowed my senses. Power filled my veins; I squeezed his throat tighter and heard a snap , distantly aware that his jaw was no longer pressed against my cheek, that he made no other noises. He was gone. I pulled again, but this time no blood came. I had emptied him.
My energy doubled, strength flooding my system, and a comforting warmth flowed through my veins. My limbs tingled and my head felt light. There really wasn’t anything like a blood-drain high.
Retracting my fangs from his throat, I let him fall to the floor in an unnatural heap. The room was on fire. I looked toward where the window was and only saw a wall of flames.
I could have just made a fatal mistake. I stood, angling my body to where I knew the window was . Blood help me. With a deep breath, I lunged through the flames, bright orange and hints of blue filled my vision. Heat swallowed me with intensity and drew the breath from my lungs.
I broke free from the fire and was falling in the crisp night air from the second story. I landed on the ground twenty feet below and tumbled. The glamour may hide my bone discrepancy, but gravity couldn’t be fooled.
Deep breath in, steady.
Slowly, I rose from a crouch and shook out my legs. The old pain returned, but I blocked it out—easier to do on a blood-high. My skin itched but didn’t hurt. Odd considering my contact time with the flames.
Sirens sounded remarkably close, but no first responders. Yet . I rose from my crouched position and set into a jog, slow at first to allow my body time to recover from the trauma of the impact. I ran around the block, past the chain length fence, down an alley, and then up another. After thirty minutes I approached my apartment. If I was ever thankful for my version of jogging, which rivaled most human athletes, it was in times like these. The high from feeding was still present, my head still abuzz.
The fire in my chest had been ignited.
This was likely why they outlawed draining our vessels. Not only did it cause a supply issue, but it made the hunger increase. Well, mental hunger, I physically felt sated.
Entering the apartment, I shut the door and headed for the shower. I turned toward the full-length mirror and paused. My clothes were practically nonexistent. The once solid leather jacket and leggings, my favorite pair, had been so badly burned they were in patches. There was more visible skin than my ‘clothing’ covered. How had I not noticed that sooner? Looking closer I expected to see welts, burns, third degree or worse, but my skin was just pink with a strange black tint. Odd. I poked at it tentatively, but it didn’t hurt.
I shook my head; this made no sense. None. Perhaps it was an illusion from my draining high. I hadn’t drained someone fully in three years. Tonight, I’d lost control. Thankfully the body would be nothing but charred remains and no one would know what had happened. Specifically, President Dale and the guara wouldn’t know I violated the ethics code this side of the veil.
I stepped out of my boots and set them to the side before stripping out of my clothes and tossing them into the bin. It was time for new clothes anyways. I pulled back the rose gold shower curtain and hobbled into the steaming water. My left leg throbbed a bit, as it sometimes did when I overexerted myself. I’ve only ever known what the world is like with two different sized femurs, injured as a baby, and so specialty shoes had been my way of life. Other than the uneven footing when barefoot, I really didn’t notice it much.
The water pressure was glorious, soothing my aching muscles. I got away with it tonight, but I needed to rein myself in; this couldn’t happen again. I scrubbed at my dry skin, noting the red patches. Even in a blood-high, the insistent itching was notable. Turning off the tap, I stepped out and grabbed my hot pink robe and threw it on, before shuffling into my fluffy white slippers.
Thank blood no one from the Glenn could see me here.
I smiled as I found my way to my room and grabbed my healing lotion. I rubbed it in slow circles on my arms where the burns were the worst. Five hours. I needed to be back to the Glenn in just five hours. I smiled, enough time for a catnap. I pulled back the furry cream comforter and climbed inside. Setting my neon green alarm clock for four hours, I rested my head back on the salmon satin pillowcase and allowed my tingling limbs to lull me to sleep.