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Book: 1305 & 1306 The Oracle & the Vampire (The 13th Floor) by Christine Rains
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Authors: Christine Rains
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better, and he would make sure she would never have to walk alone in the dark again.
“She’s going to save me, you know.”
Kiral hadn’t realized he said it out loud until the crone tripped. She would’ve fallen again if his reflexes weren’t so quick.
“Save you from what?” She spoke the words with hesitation.
“We have a legend amongst my people.” Kiral glanced at her and hoped she didn’t get the wrong idea of what he meant by that. “The Turks.” It’d been years since he identified himself as such. His accent was slowly fading the more time he spent in America.
“They call them the Al Basti. Women, maybe fae or some other spirits, each tale varies, who seek out men with guilt on their souls.” Kiral pressed his fingers to his chest. “They torment the men in their dreams, boil their blood to fever, and drain their energy.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good thing.” Harriet huffed.
“That’s what is commonly known about the Al Basti. When I was young, there was more to the myth than that. The people in my town believed them to be Peri. You know this word?”
“Angels,” the crone said softly.
“Yes. They might come to torment the men with guilty souls, but they come for a reason. They help those men face their guilt and bring them to the light.” Kiral’s head tilted back, his eyes on the stars. His chin quivered ever so slightly. “Harriet is my Al Basti. Her blood… it’s like nothing I’ve tasted before. I can’t stop thinking about her. Not just her blood, and yes, I admit that it’s part of it. I can’t help it. I know my faults. I remember every one of my sins.
“Last night…” His voice cracked as shame washed over him anew, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds. “Last night, I broke. I went looking for a hit. I found what I was looking for. Some pusher had a drugged teen. Not just any teen, a werewolf. There’s magic in their blood too. If Marc hadn’t come along and stopped things, I would’ve drained the kid dry.
“Then after running around, trying to find something to hold on to, I came home and met Harriet in the stairwell. I was at my lowest, and she offered herself to me.” Kiral’s small laugh lacked humor. “I was immediately addicted. You can’t believe what I suffer now. The mania. How much I want to drink from her again.”
He shook his head. “But I won’t. She’s my ultimate temptation. My supreme torment. Through facing it, I will be saved.”
The old woman’s heart was beating so loud it was as clear in his ears as his own voice. What did she think of his revelation? She didn’t appear afraid, but she also didn’t offer an encouraging smile. Perhaps she thought him ridiculous, but no, not with her wisdom. She knew of as many other worldly things as he did.
She stopped and turned to him to speak. Kiral knew he must hear these words.
Yet they never came. The echoing sound of applause interrupted them.
One person clapping.
Harriet startled and twisted as Kiral turned with her and slid in front of her.
“What a lovely fairy tale. You missed your calling as a bard, friend.” A man stepped from the shadows of the trees across the road. No. Not a man. It was that bloody dealer. The prick survived his encounter with Marc.
Kiral hissed, corralling Harriet behind him. She didn’t resist.
This couldn’t be happening. Not now. What the hell was the guy doing here anyway?
“I’m sorry to inform you, though, it won’t be your Al Basti or fairy or whatever saving you. No one’s going to save you now.” The dealer clapped once more, and as his hands drew apart, flames erupted between them.
CHAPTER 13
“You again.” Kiral snarled as his hands closed into fists. Without looking back, he said one word to Harriet. “Run.”
Her knees wobbled, but she wouldn’t run even if she could. Frightening as the last monsters were, this guy was different. He looked like any other street thug with the leather jacket, ripped
“She’s going to save me, you know.”
Kiral hadn’t realized he said it out loud until the crone tripped. She would’ve fallen again if his reflexes weren’t so quick.
“Save you from what?” She spoke the words with hesitation.
“We have a legend amongst my people.” Kiral glanced at her and hoped she didn’t get the wrong idea of what he meant by that. “The Turks.” It’d been years since he identified himself as such. His accent was slowly fading the more time he spent in America.
“They call them the Al Basti. Women, maybe fae or some other spirits, each tale varies, who seek out men with guilt on their souls.” Kiral pressed his fingers to his chest. “They torment the men in their dreams, boil their blood to fever, and drain their energy.”
“That doesn’t sound like a good thing.” Harriet huffed.
“That’s what is commonly known about the Al Basti. When I was young, there was more to the myth than that. The people in my town believed them to be Peri. You know this word?”
“Angels,” the crone said softly.
“Yes. They might come to torment the men with guilty souls, but they come for a reason. They help those men face their guilt and bring them to the light.” Kiral’s head tilted back, his eyes on the stars. His chin quivered ever so slightly. “Harriet is my Al Basti. Her blood… it’s like nothing I’ve tasted before. I can’t stop thinking about her. Not just her blood, and yes, I admit that it’s part of it. I can’t help it. I know my faults. I remember every one of my sins.
“Last night…” His voice cracked as shame washed over him anew, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds. “Last night, I broke. I went looking for a hit. I found what I was looking for. Some pusher had a drugged teen. Not just any teen, a werewolf. There’s magic in their blood too. If Marc hadn’t come along and stopped things, I would’ve drained the kid dry.
“Then after running around, trying to find something to hold on to, I came home and met Harriet in the stairwell. I was at my lowest, and she offered herself to me.” Kiral’s small laugh lacked humor. “I was immediately addicted. You can’t believe what I suffer now. The mania. How much I want to drink from her again.”
He shook his head. “But I won’t. She’s my ultimate temptation. My supreme torment. Through facing it, I will be saved.”
The old woman’s heart was beating so loud it was as clear in his ears as his own voice. What did she think of his revelation? She didn’t appear afraid, but she also didn’t offer an encouraging smile. Perhaps she thought him ridiculous, but no, not with her wisdom. She knew of as many other worldly things as he did.
She stopped and turned to him to speak. Kiral knew he must hear these words.
Yet they never came. The echoing sound of applause interrupted them.
One person clapping.
Harriet startled and twisted as Kiral turned with her and slid in front of her.
“What a lovely fairy tale. You missed your calling as a bard, friend.” A man stepped from the shadows of the trees across the road. No. Not a man. It was that bloody dealer. The prick survived his encounter with Marc.
Kiral hissed, corralling Harriet behind him. She didn’t resist.
This couldn’t be happening. Not now. What the hell was the guy doing here anyway?
“I’m sorry to inform you, though, it won’t be your Al Basti or fairy or whatever saving you. No one’s going to save you now.” The dealer clapped once more, and as his hands drew apart, flames erupted between them.
CHAPTER 13
“You again.” Kiral snarled as his hands closed into fists. Without looking back, he said one word to Harriet. “Run.”
Her knees wobbled, but she wouldn’t run even if she could. Frightening as the last monsters were, this guy was different. He looked like any other street thug with the leather jacket, ripped
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