Chapter 11
Loren
It was good to get away from the command headquarters and away from the crèche and out into the fresher air. The snow was horrible, an abomination that made him determined to be in the next party to go conquer somewhere else in the Universe, except that she wouldn't be there and –
And that was why it was good to be out and about. Three weeks away from her and he felt Vampyren again, as if belonging to his own people was some form of state dependency.
He needed to be among his own people, letting his vicious killer nature take over.
He needed to be in the warmth of a desert. That he was still waiting on.
He needed to be away from the girl. She made him weak. Even now he remembered the feel of her mouth, the touch of her hands, the way her hair smelled.
But when a shout from an advanced scout rang out and he ran with the others, he felt like himself again. Ready for the hunt.
Ready to kill.
The night was frigid, the stars overhead piercing since the power was down in the city again and there were no artificial lights to combat the stars. Loren wore layers of clothes but all they seemed to do was make his achingly cold body move stiffly and with difficulty.
Layers of clothes were meant to trap body heat and the Vampyren didn't have any.
Gathering his men, he ran down for the second time what they knew, going over it again because now they had feet on the ground and visuals of the buildings where the teenagers were said to be hiding out.
There were marks all over the city, stylized and territorial, from gangs, as the Vampyren understood them.
Maybe gang members had more in common with the invaders than any other type of group except military, but they couldn't be tolerated.
The attack that had killed Vampyren had at least involved some gang members.
Apparently Stu and Diane had some kind of contact with them, possibly through their sons. He hoped it was some other connection. He didn't want to wipe out a family.
"What do you have?" he asked Jericho.
Jericho held a handheld device that could trace the blood signature of individuals.
The information taken from Diane had included a blood splotch on her clothing from when one of the gang members had nicked himself on a nail while creating the pipe bomb.
Now they were searching through abandoned projects, through derelict houses that still managed to utilize electricity stolen from somewhere.
Out in the snow and night and cold, his own savage nature filled in again, like water filling a sudden cavity.
Except it didn't feel like a cavity. It felt right, like he was returning to himself. Maybe this was who he was supposed to be. Maybe all along he'd only needed to be more like his brother, like the others in his race.
When he got back, if he stayed away from – her – maybe he could advance again. Get free of his brother. Create an existence on this planet. There were warm places even on Earth and if he advanced enough, he could name his position. His harem. His desires to be fulfilled.
He wouldn't have to see Sav again.
He'd be fully Vampyren.
It sounded like a plan.
"They're in there," Jericho said, making a signal with his closed fist to indicate the rest of the six-man unit needed to be on task and on target.
They all went still. Like any predator waiting on prey, they were tense and expectant and felt joy at the chase about to begin.
Loren felt the same emotions rising up inside, the same need to run down the targets and tear them apart.
The signal was almost missed because in the dark, in the cold, their natures were slipping. They were regressing to the brutal, amoral, slaughtering Vampyren such conditions released.
A sudden shout and then gunfire. It was fast and unexpected, coming out of not the house they believed the pack were in, but one behind them. Bright red flashes lit up the night. The guns barked and the attackers screamed and bolted through the door, still firing.
Assault rifles and automatic weapons could bring down a vampire. They surged forward anyway, able to smell the fear that reeked of not enough ammunition, not enough of anything – food, water, shelter, electricity, guns, ammo.
The gunfire exploded around them, dealt by such panicked hands there was almost no danger of any of the Vampyren actually being shot. The boys who had teamed up with the rest of Stuart and Diane's killer group screamed as they ran forward, guns blazing.
And were stopped in their tracks by the growling Vampyren.
Loren felt the violent, uncontrollable nature of what he was wash over him as the young males dropped their weapons and turned to run. Their blood signature was the same as the trace from Diane's clothes.
These were among those who had killed his brethren.
Because the killings had been cowardly and performed from a distance, with bombs and guns, there was no proof of the exact match of blood and person.
But they were related to the more bold acts those like Diane and Stu had perpetuated.
The boys had been there. Blood didn't lie.
This was his unit. Avenging the unit that had been his brother's. Sav was with him, burning with anger, but for once they were of the same accord. Neither had more sanity than the other. They were night mad, primal, driven by rage and the need to kill.
And the ability, and the target.
They surged forward, Loren, Sav, Jericho and the other three, flushing out the rest of the human pack, three more boys running into the frozen wastes of empty city streets. The vampires ran them for the sheer joy of it.
They brought them down for the expediency of it – it would be unacceptable to let them escape.
They slaughtered them for the violence of it.
Loren had one of the two who had actually made the bombs.
Sav had the other. Screaming filled the freezing night skies.
Blood filled his mouth as Loren tore the boy's arm, severed something deep inside, and drank deep.
He threw back his head and let his fangs descend all the way, then buried them in the boy's neck, ripping away flesh, diving deep for the blood that welled up so fast and hot, salty and rich.
When the body cooled, he dropped it, dragged the back of his hand over his mouth and turned to watch the others. Sav had the other brother. The other members of the team had shared out the five other gang members.
They were sated and even in the cold, dark night, the bloodlust was satisfied.
For the time being.
Loren's head rang with the violence, the pleasure, the kill, the fear, the sense of fullness of being part of a pack larger than himself.
It wasn't until he started back, man again rather than beast, cooling in the cold night, carrying the head of his victim to demand of the prisoners an identity, that he found himself wondering at his own pleasure. His own capacity for violence.
State dependency. Away from the hunt, he felt as if that had been another life. He remembered his pleasure in the act but didn't share it, as if he were a different person. He wondered if his nature had changed.
And whether or not letting Kiera go would be safer for her than breeding her as his own.