Demon's Kiss

“How about a stake through the heart?” Seth asked.

“A stake through any part of you could kill you, but not because of the stake. We tend to bleed excessively, and bleeding out is one of the ways we can die. However, if you get cut and can stanch the bleeding until the day sleep, you’ll heal with the sunrise. Always remember that. If you can stay alive until daylight, you’ll survive.”

“Okay. How about a crucifix? Will that hurt me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not devils.”

“Sorry.” He’d offended the guy. Hell, who knew vampires had pet peeves?

“You need blood to survive,” Reaper went on. “You can get it from blood banks. You don’t need to take victims. You’re going to feel pain a hell of a lot more than you did before. It’s one of the things that can lay you out. It can be that debilitating. But the balance to that is you’ll feel pleasure more intensely, as well. The older you get, the more intense your senses become, and your other powers, as well.”

“What other powers?”

“Running with great speed, leaping incredibly high, telepathy, mind control, sheer strength.”

Seth smiled. He thought of his latest and most impressive feat to date. Besides saving J.J.’s life and becoming a vampire, that was. “I wonder if I could leap off the top of a crypt, somersault three times and land on my feet on a roof a dozen yards away.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Reaper said.

“Could you do it?”

“Of course.”

Seth smiled a little. “Yeah, but could you do it over a toxic swamp full of zombies?”

Reaper frowned at him briefly, then shook his head as if puzzled and returned his attention to the road. Seth found a radio station he liked and cranked the volume. He was surprised that Reaper didn’t reach out and snap it off again, and even more surprised to see the cranky bastard’s foot tapping in time every now and then.

They rode that way for three excellent songs in a row; then the station launched into a block of commercials, so Seth turned it down. “So where in North Carolina are we going?” he asked.

“Emerald Isle. Rather near Wilmington.”

“Uh-huh. Is that where the guy you have to kill is?”

“I don’t know.”

Seth waited. Reaper didn’t say more, though. “Hey, come on, fill me in. You seem like a decent guy. You wouldn’t be after this dude if there wasn’t a reason.”

“I’m a killer, Seth. An assassin. It’s what I did as a mortal, and it’s what I still do. I’m very good at it, but there are…there are things about me that make me as dangerous as hell. You’re not safe with me. No one is. Keep that in mind, and keep your guard up. Don’t trust me. Don’t trust anyone.”

Seth frowned, studying Reaper’s profile. “Is that my first lesson on being a vampire?”

“That’s your first lesson on being alive. It should be everyone’s.”

“You’re intense, you know that? Are you always this serious? This freaking…dark?”

“Yes.” Reaper glanced sideways at Seth, and then sighed. “There is a gang of rogue vampires, led by a man called Gregor, who’ve been murdering humans at will. Young, old, innocent, it doesn’t matter. They leave bloodless bodies, with fang marks in their throats, lying around where they can be easily discovered. They have to be stopped.”

“Damn straight. You can’t just go around murdering innocent people.”

“I’m more concerned at their lack of discretion. It exposes our existence to people who might otherwise never know of it. And that puts us all at risk.”

“Oh.” Seth nodded. “So what’s in Wilmington?”

“A vampiress who might know something of the gang’s whereabouts.”

“What makes you think she knows?”

“She’s beautiful, incredibly wealthy, and it’s rumored she recently had her heart and her bank accounts broken by the same man. That sort of game is one Gregor’s right-hand man is extremely fond of playing.”

Seth nodded, and wondered if this vampiress with the broken heart was the woman he was looking for. He was still full of questions. But he decided to give Reaper a break. Then he reached up for the rearview mirror and tilted it down to check out his face. Sure, the pain was gone, but he had to be bruised pretty badly.

However, when he looked in the mirror, there was no reflection. A wave of nausea rose up in him, and he pushed it down.

“That’s another one of the myths about us that are true,” Reaper told him. “And your bruises are gone. They healed with the day sleep. Everything did, just as it always will.”

Seth licked his lips, leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. “One more question, okay?”

“Only one?” Reaper sounded skeptical.

“For now.” Seth opened his eyes, wanting to see the guy’s expression for this one. “That stuff you told me about the Chosen, and about every vampire having one special one, one that he’s more connected to than any other?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m a vampire now, too, right?”

Reaper nodded.

“So do I have a bond with one of the Chosen, too?”

“Yes. One of the Chosen—or, possibly even one who’s already become a vampire. The bond remains even after the transformation. You may not know who it is right away, but yes. There will be a powerful connection, a pull. You’ll know when that one needs you. You’ll feel compelled to help.”

“Could I have felt that bond even before I was changed over?”

Frowning, Reaper glanced at him. “I don’t see why not.”

Seth was pretty sure he already felt it. Had felt it all his life, and then, more potently than ever, just as his mortal life had ebbed away. The beautiful thing with the coppery red hair and the huge brown eyes. She was a part of his destiny. He’d never been more sure of anything.

For just a moment he started to panic. What if he was supposed to be helping her right now? What if he couldn’t find her in time? What if…?

And then he felt it. Just as surely as day followed night, he knew it. They were going the right way. He was doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing. The fate he’d been waiting for was at hand. He’d never felt this way before. He knew it was dead-on-balls accurate.

He sighed and tried to relax. He was on his path, on his journey, doing what he’d been meant to do his entire life. And he was going to do it right.

3

“I hate him. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!” Topaz hurled a 1945 Waterford cut crystal vase into the wall with so much force that it dented the surface before it exploded into a thousand glittering bits.

It wasn’t as satisfying as smashing his face would be, though. God, when she thought about how she’d been with him, the things she’d done. She’d been utterly uninhibited, willing to do anything, try anything, experience anything, because she was sure she was safe in his hands. That he was just as enamored of her as she was of him. That he loved her.