We're here. At long last. The grand finale to
Love at First Bite.
If you're wondering "Why are you stopping here?" the answer is simple: Because this is as far as my main villain will take me. Any longer, and the threat is just going to become ridiculous. Unless I don't hit it here. Because trust me, these odds are ... bleak.
I try to change things up in every book. And this villain is built upon everything I've done before. Minions? We've got minions. Vampires? We have vampires.
Demons? That would be telling.
Anyway,
preorder the book here, and get ready for things to get strange.
Okay, strang
er.
Chapter
1: A Little B&E Between Friends
December
15th,
New York City
Merle
Kraft’s midnight-blue eyes took in the office with a simple glance.
The room was neat and orderly. The desk faced the door, and behind it
were the large windows that made up the outside wall, giving a
perfect view of Turtle Bay and the borough across the water—Brooklyn.
Ah,
the memories… Wait, what am I thinking? I haven’t even been on
this case a year. Where the hell did the time go? To Hell, almost
literally.
Merle
shook his head and turned his thoughts back to the situation at hand.
After all, he was standing in the offices of the United Nations
Secretary General.
It was quite a view from a flat and uninteresting office, overlooking
the East river, and looking at the next borough. The view was better
looking than the bare bones office—chairs and desk, but thousand
dollar desks and hundred dollar chairs. Who knew you could be so
bland, yet spare no expense?
Unfortunately,
despite his facility with B&E, Merle didn’t even know where to
start looking. The files he desired weren’t to be left in a file
cabinet, or even in plain sight. Assuming, of course, that he kept
files
on that sort of thing. The smart thing would be to just disappear
everything.
And
run. I would run. But then, I wouldn’t have made deals with demons
and vampires in the first place, so who knows what they were
thinking.
Merle
moved through the room with his usual efficiency and grace. People
often wondered just how he got through locked doors as though they
weren’t there and find things that no one else knew how to. If
anyone else knew the secret, they didn’t talk.
Thankfully,
Merle also didn’t work with anyone, otherwise they would be making
fun of his B&E costume: a blue windbreaker that matched his eyes,
and blue jeans. His idea of undercover attire was wearing a
windbreaker without FBI emblazoned on it.
“Having
fun with your search, brother?”
Merle
leaped from the middle of searching the desk and spun to meet the
gaze of his half-brother Dalf. The darker Kraft brother was swathed
in black, as usual, complete with his wolf’s head silver-topped
cane. The wolf’s head on the cane had eyes of rubies. The cape
swirled around Dalf like he was Batman, and Merle once again examined
the Boston Kraft brother for vampire fangs.
Dalf
smiled, just to show that his bright white teeth were perfectly
normal, blunt
human
teeth.
Merle’d
never seen them bloodstained,
but it didn’t
hurt to check. Nope,
not a fleck. Check.
The
Eurasian ignored his Black Irish half-brother, turning away with a
sigh. “I’m busy, Dalf.”
He
nodded, taking in the room with a sweep of his eyes. “I see. Having
an enjoyable evening of it? Or have you been frustrated in your
endeavors?”
Merle
gave him an eye-roll. Dalf wouldn’t go away until he played along.
“What do you want?”
Dalf
flowed along the room, but not moving closer, most likely just to
keep his brother uncomfortable. Then
again, he always did like manipulating me… and everyone else.
“How
have your investigations been going?”
“Circular.
Why?”
“I
hear that the government has been using wire taps on the United
Nations.”
Blink.
No one was supposed to have heard about that. Not even the New York
Times had leaked it yet. “Indeed?”
“Yes,
I suspect this case has been bugging
you, lately.”
Merle
didn’t even react. Did
my brother just suggest I bug the secretary general’s office?
“You’re being helpful again, Dalf; why?”
The
Boston Kraft brother narrowed his eyes, and gave Merle a smile that
reminded him a little of Marco Catalano. “Because I can’t be the
one to kill you if a vampire drains you first.”
*
* * *
December
17th,
New York City
Amanda
Colt, vampire, sat on her couch, nose buried in the pages of a book
on modern politics. It wasn’t so much that she needed the distance
to read—in fact, she could read it from the other end of the room.
It helped her forget that she was alone, in her apartment …
especially when she would rather be in San Francisco, with Marco.
At
his bedside, in the hospital.
But
no,
Jennifer Bosley wanted to see her, and had to see her “as soon as
possible.”
Then
she was told to wait.
Argh.
She
wanted to scream. But screaming would give the neighbors the wrong idea. What a shame.
Amanda
and Marco had finally made it. He loved her. She’d
told him that she felt the same about him. She’d
even told him her real name … assuming the pain killers hadn’t
totally knocked him out.
“Frustrated”
didn’t really even begin to encompass it.
So
she read. Since she left San Francisco, she had read twenty books. A
day. And went to Mass each night. It
was good enough for saints and monks, it would have to be good enough
for her.
“Have
you gotten to the queen of the damned, yet?”
Amanda
started, leaping out of her chair and halfway across the apartment
before she realized who had broken into her place—the only person
who had ever done so without being eaten.
The
red-golden-haired vampyre smiled gently. “Hello, Merle. How are
you?”
The
San Francisco Kraft brother nodded, and walked towards her. His hands
stayed in his dark blue windbreaker. “I’m well. I’ll be damned
if I can figure out exactly what’s going on over at the UN right
now, but I’m working on it.”
Amanda
reached back and gently put the bookmark back in the book. “Have
you considered bugging the UN offices?”
He
raised a brow and smiled slightly. “Funny you should say that,
someone else just suggested it tonight as well. What do you think
about the matter?”
The
vampyre shrugged. “I have not been thinking about it. It has
been…odd lately, that is all.” She sighed. “Have you had any
success using Marco as bait yet?”
Merle
blinked, surprised that she would even need to ask him about it one
way or another. “He hasn’t told you?”
She
sat down and picked up her book again. “We have not talked since I
left. Cell phones and hospitals do not mix.”
Merle
shrugged and moved to the nearest chair, wrapping the toe of his shoe
around the chair and pulling it into position so he could sit. “First
time I met you two, I figured you were at least dating, if not
exchanging bodily fluids… then I discovered you were,
just not the ones I had in mind. You were inseparable, and not to
mention that neither one of you gave a damn about personal space.”
She
allowed a corner of her mouth to
curl
into something like a wry smile. “Vampires generally do not
acknowledge personal space. It makes it easier to eat their date.”
He
rolled his eyes and sighed. Deflection was something he didn’t have
time for, and as far as he was concerned, neither did she. “Give me
a break, Amanda, I know you better than that, and so does Marco.”
Amanda’s
eyes snapped up to meet his and the book slammed shut with what
sounded like a rifle shot. “Really? You think so? Do you know how
many people I’ve killed?”
Merle’s
brows arched. “Do you know how little I care?”
She
completely ignored the jibe. “I terrorized half the Red Army during
the Revolution. I was used as propaganda against the Whites—a
whisper about a demon working against the
progress of Revolution.
I did not even think for months, killing people to feed my hunger,
feeding off Lenin’s army. I am a predator who had to retrain
herself to be a human being.”
He
scoffed. “Do you know how little Marco
cares?”
She
continued without regard for his comment. “Most vampires are
incontinent—sometimes they are merely lesser evils because they are
like a lot of humans. They do not think, they just act. Only the
thinking ones can be true evil or good.”
Merle
nodded slowly, seeing that he would have to give in to the situation
and actually address her concerns. “And you’re afraid that one of
these days, your instincts will take over?”
Amanda
could feel her blood pressure go up without her trying to make it do
so. The last person who had gotten her this mad was Marco. The little
wizard wasn’t going to leave her alone on this, was he? “What
part of ‘I want to kill something’ don’t you get?” she
snapped.
He
inclined his head. “You want to tell me that in English this time.”
She
blinked, not realizing that she had shouted at him in Russian.
Merle
continued. “It at least explains a few things about you.” He
smiled. “I always wondered why you were so much weaker than every
major creature we’ve come up against. Nuala damn near killed all of
us without even blinking. We won’t even go into Mister Day.”
She
shrugged. “So what? I am not virtuous.
I
am, at best, Continent. I know what the good is, want it, and do it.
Most of the time. But is it enough? Is it the right
thing?”
He
shook his head. “No, you’re not just
anything.
Rory
is continent, and he
flinches at crosses if he doesn’t brace himself. But you pray, you
wear crosses. But I know why you don’t have a power level
commensurate with your level of virtue. You’ve been scared out of
your mind by the level of power you might access. The nuns called it
fortitude.”
Merle’s
eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. “You never asked what more you
could do, never tested yourself to see how far you could go. Never
tried to see if you could reach beyond what powers you’ve displayed
thus far. You’re scared of your instincts, terrified of yourself
and what you can do if you actually let yourself go deeper. Maybe
you’re scared of your power, what you’ll become if you tap into
it. As C.S. Lewis noted, if you don’t want it, it’s usually a
good sign that you’re probably the right person to have it.”
Merle
stood and smoothed out his windbreaker. He gave her a look that
brooked no dissent. “I don’t give a good God-damn what your
supposed instincts are saying. You’ve spent decades at least on the
side of right. Since you enjoy citing Aristotle so often, remember
that thing about habits. It’s unlikely that you’re going to make
a sudden and drastic U-turn and become another Nuala.
“Perhaps
you should ask yourself how you were able to so easily turn to mist
and use it as a tactical weapon last week. I think you could figure
it out if you put your mind to it.
“As
far as your boyfriend, not only is Marco a big boy, he can probably
kick your undead ass should you step out of line.” He sharply
tugged at the bottom of his windbreaker. “Like it or not, you’re
in love with him, and I can only assume that, what I can read from a
creature like Marco, is that he may even love you, too. Get over it.”
