Scions: Resurrection Read online

  Fury swept through Jachin at Landon’s comment, knotting his stomach. “Humanity is who made me what I am. You’ve been rubbing shoulders with them so long you’ve lost sight of the fact they’d hunt you down if they knew what you really are. Maybe you should spend more time with your own kind.”

  Landon’s eyes narrowed for a long second before his gaze swept the room. “They’re not all your enemies, Jachin. Some have the capacity to understand and the willingness to embrace all kinds.”

  Jachin took in the people in the room as he addressed Landon’s optimistic view of humans. “They are weak, pathetic, short-lived shells of what they could be.”

  Landon grabbed Jachin’s forearm and dug his fingers into the muscle. “The man I listened to, the one I came to trust six years ago, was a philosopher, an idealist with a will to live. How can you believe in this prophecy you mentioned and spout that bullshit at the same time?”

  The man’s words hit home and Jachin’s chest constricted. He should never have told Landon what Ezra said before he died, but Jachin had figured he might need an ally in the Lupreda world to fulfill the dying vampire’s prophecy.

  He jerked his arm out of the man’s grasp. Landon was right. He couldn’t go on living like this.

  Stepping down from the stool, Jachin stared at the projector screen, where pictures of Ramos flashed on the news. “We all get what we deserve.”

  Landon clenched his jaw before he spoke. “One day Slayer will screw up. The NYPD will call me to hunt you down.”

  Jachin gave him a curt nod. “Fair enough.”

  A heavy weight spread across Jachin’s shoulders as he left the pub. He knew his tenuous truce with Landon had shifted tonight. He didn’t miss the irony—that a werewolf descended from a petri dish, had more humanity in him than he did, a vampire born of man.

  Jachin’s boots echoed in the dark, narrow street as he made his way toward the building that housed his loft apartment. Car exhaust, rodent droppings, human food remnants from sour cheese to various nutty smells, all mixed with the polluted rain hanging in the air, bombarding his senses.

  As a backdrop to the smells, human and animal heartbeats pounded in various stages, from excitement to slumber. Every sound and scent penetrated his consciousness. Shaking his head to try and block them all, he vowed to never go so long without food again.

  Not only did the lack of nutrients wreak havoc with his ability to adjust his senses, it also slowed his reflexes. At least the money from this latest hit should sustain him for a good three weeks.

  Unfortunately, the specialized blood Roach provided only lasted forty-eight hours once the bags were exposed to air and light, which meant he had to see Roach in a couple of days to retrieve more food.

  He despised depending on anyone.

  At this point, with the money he had left he could go two more weeks before he’d have to kill again. He had a list of clients waiting on him to be hungry enough to work.

  When Jachin reached the end of the road, he ignored the bright yellow Caution, Dangerous Chemicals plastic tape crisscrossed in front of the six-foot tall industrial-grade metal fencing and building.

  Jachin sensed nothing but quiet peacefulness as he entered his loft apartment and shrugged out of his trench coat. Once he pulled the pints out of his coat’s deep pockets, he tossed the coat on a side chair in his entryway and poured the contents of a bag of blood into a martini glass he retrieved from the kitchen.

  With a wave of his hand he used his mental powers to turn on the projector and sound system. While soft jazz music filtered through the surround sound in the two-thousand-square-foot loft apartment, Jachin picked up his drink and sat down in his butter-soft black leather chair.

  Sipping his drink, he savored the taste as it slid down his throat. It had been so long since he’d tasted untainted human blood he couldn’t describe the flavor if he had to. And yet, as he took another sip, he knew this blood was missing something. The spice of life was glaringly absent.

  It was the essence that made blood distinctive to a specific person, that made human blood irresistible to his kind. The human’s smell, the person’s flavor, their very soul resided in their blood, giving it an added zing. All the blood he’d bought from Roach tasted the same—bland. Nothing to sink his fangs into.

  But with it he survived.

  His gaze scanned past the shuttered windows that lined the entire exterior wall and landed on the side wall with built-in bookshelves. They were packed with books, leather-bound originals in many cases. The library had cost him a small fortune to collect over the years.

  Raising his glass in salute to the wall of books, Jachin said, “I’m not the uncivilized, uncultured man you think I am, Landon,” as he stood and approached his collection. Surveying the section related to psychic phenomenon, telepathy and harnessing one’s mental powers, he smirked. His studies had their uses. He’d been able to expand his abilities over the past decade.

  Now a thick layer of dust claimed the books’ surfaces. He used to clean them like clockwork once a week. In the past, the sight of dust would irritate him, but today he felt nothing.

  Angry with himself for losing the simple joy of reading, he downed the rest of his dinner and turned out the lights. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him. He lifted his hand to mentally turn off the music, and the same blond newscaster from earlier came on the screen. Turning up the projector’s sound, he waited to see if there were any new updates on the Ramos story.

  “Good evening. Here’s the latest report on Senator Ramos’s murder. It is now believed that the assassination was done by one person. The female witness does remember seeing a man standing in the shadows as they exited the theater, but she never saw his face. Stay tuned for the midnight news, where we’ll interview the witness. And be sure to tune in for tomorrow night’s special guest. We’ll be sitting down with debut novelist Ariel Swanson and her controversial book about vampires that’s causing quite a stir.”

  A human writing about vampires? The thought intrigued him.

  Landon’s comment that he’d lost his humanity echoed in Jachin’s head. He cast his gaze to his library once more. It’d been at least three years since he’d bothered to open a book.

  Jachin walked over to his desk and switched on his laptop. Why not see what a human has to say about vampires? Once he typed in “Ariel Swanson” on the Internet, he was surprised to find hundreds of reviews of the woman’s book already posted on the Web store’s review site.

  Jachin chuckled as he purchased the e-book version of Ms. Swanson’s novel. The Vampires’ Return might make for some entertaining reading tomorrow.

  After he’d downloaded the e-book and opened the file to make sure he’d gotten the right version, he was about to shut down the laptop when his gaze landed on the quote at the bottom of the book’s cover page.

  They thought vampires were extinct. In truth, the vampires were only waiting to fulfill the prophecy.

  Jachin’s entire body tensed. This human female wrote about vampires…and a prophecy?

  Pulling out his chair, he sat, then scrolled down to chapter one of The Vampires’ Return.

  He didn’t believe in coincidences.

  Chapter 2

  “S itting at number eight on the Sentinel Daily’s list after its first week of sales, Ariel Swanson’s debut novel, entitled The Vampires’ Return, has stirred up quite a controversy.”

  Ariel took a deep, calming breath and folded her hands in her lap as the blond reporter, Sandy Myers, held up her paperback book for the cameraman. “While it’s true that vampires have been extinct for twenty-five years, many still remember the creatures’ terrifying nightly reign that lasted for a decade. For those too young to have experienced it, we have plenty of history books to remind us. Miss Swanson’s novel might be a fictional tale, but it brings back many a scary memory and, with them, some of the fear.”

  Lowering the book to her lap, the reporter smiled at Ariel sitting across from her in the studio. “M
iss Swanson, what possessed you to write a book about vampires? I understand you never experienced their terror firsthand, but you mentioned losing a family member to an attack. With your access to library records, you must be well versed in our history with vampires.”

  Ariel’s chest tensed at the newscaster’s obvious delight in the fact her book had stirred up such strong sentiments. The woman damn well made sure to bring up her past. Ariel had only mentioned one family member’s experience to the woman off the record in a preinterview conversation so the reporter would know she didn’t take humankind’s past with the vampires lightly.

  Smiling to overcome her anger at the newscaster’s casual comment, she cast her gaze to the huge glass window behind them where people held up Ban the Book picket signs before she met Sandy’s expectant gaze. She refused to let the reporter dredge up her past. “As you know, I work in a library. Being surrounded by books, I guess it was a natural progression that one day I would write one.”

  “Yes.” Sandy glanced at her notes. “But you didn’t write just any book. You wrote a book depicting a race of vampires thought extinct but who really never died out.” Gleeful excitement filled Sandy’s voice as she picked up Ariel’s book once more and flipped to the final page. “In the last paragraph you wrote of a prophecy that could lead to the vampire clan’s return. And I quote, ‘A human will speak of our demise. Her purity and intelligence will help us survive. A mate she becomes to the leader of vampires, joining our races, fulfilling our ultimate desire.’”

  Once Sandy finished reading, she set down the paperback and her piercing gaze locked on Ariel. “Your story might be a work of fiction, but needless to say, this book has scared a lot of people.”

  Her ominous tone had Ariel’s heart thudding at a hummingbird rate. She’d heard the same comments from her agent and editor, but they had taken a different slant: people were willing to pay to be frightened and entertained.

  Ariel jumped at the sudden slamming thud behind her. One of the picketers had gotten past the wall of security guards and flattened his picket sign against the glass. Camera flashes lit up the night sky outside, illuminating the script he’d printed on the surface.

  Vampire Lover, it read.

  Vampire lover? That couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m just trying to move on with my life, to learn to live without fear, Ariel thought with a wry twist of her lips until the man turned the sign around and she read the rest of his message.

  Die!

  The camera crew panned over to the sign and Sandy expelled a nervous laugh. “Some people apparently feel very strongly.”

  Ariel squared her shoulders. Pushing her long, white-blond hair away from her face, she said in an unaffected tone, “Like you said, it’s a work of fiction. This story is in my head, needing to be told. It’s a journey of sorts.” A journey that I hope will free me, she finished mentally.

  “And a very successful journey, too, I might add.” Sandy held the book up again. “I understand this first book will be part of a trilogy and it’s selling so well that your editors have moved up the release date of the next book by four months.” Leaning forward, she lowered her voice just a little. “Come on. Give us a hint as to what happens next. What’s this prophecy about? You really left us hanging at the end of The Vampires’ Return.”

  Ariel laughed in sheer bemusement. I wish I knew what comes next. “I don’t know yet.”

  The reporter’s blue eyes went wide in surprise. “What? You don’t know what happens, yet your publisher wants this next book earlier than was originally planned?”

  Ariel smiled at the genuine look of confusion on the woman’s face. ’Bout time I stumped Miss Know-All-Her-Facts. She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

  Leaning back, Sandy let out an exasperated, “Wow!” She faced the camera and continued, “You heard it here on UBNY News, everyone. Ariel Swanson doesn’t know what’ll happen next.” Her calculating gaze shifted to Ariel. “I guess that means we’ll have to have you back on the program right before your next book is released, right, Miss Swanson?

  Lovely. If she tries to bring up my family’s past again, I’ll lambaste the woman. Ariel gave a sweet smile. “We’ll see.”

  Sandy turned back to the camera. “Well, that’s all for now, everyone. Tune in tomorrow night when we’ll interview Zadie Morrow and talk about her debut rock video, ‘Moon Shadows.’”

  Ariel let out a silent sigh of relief once the camera’s red light went out. Sandy stood and Ariel followed suit.

  “Thanks so much for coming down to the station tonight, Ariel.” Sandy cast a quick look at the glass window behind them, then waved to a couple guards standing off the set. “Security will escort you to your car.”

  Ariel nodded her appreciation for the escort and followed the tall, dark-headed guard, while a shorter blond man wearing the same security uniform stepped into place behind her.

  As soon as the guard opened the studio’s side door, the deafening roar of the crowd rushed forth. Ariel resisted the urge to cover her ears at the loud noise—some cheers, some hateful slurs. The slurs seemed the loudest.

  Cameras’ bright lights flashed repeatedly, and the smell of the earlier rainstorm hung thick and heavy in the night air. Ariel’s insides rocked at the crush of people surrounding them. She moved closer to the guard in front of her as the large man shouldered his way through the crowd, yelling, “Back up, people!”

  A woman stepped out from the crowd to Ariel’s right, her mike held in front of her. “Miss Swanson, obviously you’ve stirred some mixed emotions with your novel. Care to make any comments?”

  Ariel started to respond when someone in a long black coat landed in a crouched position on the asphalt to her left.

  Along with her intake of breath, a collective gasp moved over the crowd at the stranger’s appearance. Before Ariel had time to react, the man stood and grabbed her left arm. When the first security guard turned his gun on him, the stranger shot the guard in the thigh using a pulser gun.

  Ariel let out a horrified scream as the man went down. She tried to pull her arm free, but the intruder shoved her behind him right before a series of traditional gunshots exploded, pinging against the asphalt next to them.

  Screams of terror rose from the mob, and the second security guard went down, murdered by the spray of gunfire coming from above. It happened so fast; Ariel turned to see a bullet hole oozing blood near the man’s heart as he stared sightlessly into the night sky.

  Panic swept through her, closing her windpipe. She shrieked and ripped at the firm grip on her upper arm, trying to get away. The dark-haired stranger’s vise lock around her arm tightened, while the people around her scattered in every direction.

  A new round of gunshots resounded above them, and the man holding her murmured, “Damn it to hell,” right before he turned and dipped, throwing her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing more than a bag of feathers.

  Air whooshed from her lungs with her hard landing on his shoulder. Dizziness swept her mind, disorienting her while he vaulted up the hood of a car, then across its roof, before jumping onto a metal awning above Frederico’s Restaurant.

  Ariel finally regained her breath and her ability to focus only to gulp in terror at the sight of the street a good fifteen feet below her. As the man leapt once more, this time to the rooftop of a low building on the same side of the street, she grabbed his waist and closed her eyes briefly against the vertigo that gripped her.

  My God, he just jumped at least two stories as easily as if he were taking a stroll in a park. Ariel forced air in and out of her nostrils. Cinching her arms around the man’s muscular stomach, she pressed her cheek against his soft coat. The leather smell was rich and strong against her nose. No matter how frightened she was, she refused to pass out and lose her grip. Otherwise, with his next jump she’d go sailing straight to the cement below.

  He ran across the rooftop and the jarring and jerking caused her stomach to roil. She made the mistake of op
ening her eyes. A high-pitched screech erupted as they leapt from one building top to another. Bile rose in her throat, bringing with it a flood of spit.

  You have to calm down so you can keep screaming, stupid, she told herself as she swallowed several times to keep from puking. The gunfire around them told her someone other than police officers were trying to save her from the kidnapper.

  The NYPD and the military were the only groups licensed to carry pulser guns. Handguns were still the weapon of choice among the criminals. At this point, she didn’t care who was trying to save her, just that someone was. Hope made her tight chest loosen a bit and she began to scream once more.

  Long and loud.

  “Enough!”

  Her kidnapper’s curt tone penetrated her screams as he tightened his grip on her hips. She fell silent while helplessness wrapped around her like a thick, oppressive blanket. Her kidnapper had a pulser weapon. When had the order of things—good guys carrying pulsers and bad guys carrying handguns—been turned over on its head?

  No matter. While he moved several stories above the pavement, she kept her lips buttoned. She didn’t need to provoke her captor any more than necessary; he might decide to drop her!

  Once they stopped moving, Ariel let out of a sigh of relief. The man tensed and then turned one way and then the other in rapid movements as if he were looking for an unseen assailant.

  Another gunshot ricocheted a split second before a sudden burning sensation ripped through her shoulder. Use your night goggles, you idiots, she mentally wailed as she realized she’d been hit by friendly fire.

  Without warning, her kidnapper jumped off the building. His black leather coat flapped against her face, muffling her shriek of terror as they flew toward the street below.

  As he landed in a partial squat, her arms instinctively covered her head to protect it, while her hip bone jarred against the man’s shoulder. Shooting pain radiated down her spine and a low moan escaped her lips at the impact. He didn’t miss a beat. Instead he immediately jolted into a brisk run.