Read Online Dave Carver (Book 1): Thicker Than Blood by Andrew Dudek - Free Book Online
Authors: Andrew Dudek
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mysterious figures in black gliding around like sharks.
Both of those images have roots in reality, but neither of them are anywhere near the most common location for vampires. You have to remember that vamps aren’t human, despite their appearances—they’re animals. Typically, they like to lurk in places that are out of the way, dark and secure and near a reliable source of food.
Flavian lived in an abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn.
The morning sun wasn’t at its midday height yet when Rob parked his Mustang on the side of the street in front of the warehouse, but it was plenty hot enough to charbroil any vamps unlucky enough to be caught wandering around outside.
From the outside the warehouse didn’t look like much. It was huge, taking up most of a city block, and it towered over its neighbors. It had a suspiciously intact flat roof and huge metal doors. The windows, up near the roof, were either boarded over, spray-painted black, or both. It wasn’t exactly Castle Dracula, but I guessed it was the best thing available in Brooklyn.
“As far as I know,” Rob said, “Flavian’s been here since the war started. There are a couple dozen vamps in there with him. He’s nervous about some amateur hunter taking a shot at him.”
Rob looked like somebody’s cool, middle-aged uncle. He had chin-length brown hair that was beginning to show signs of gray and a soul patch under his mouth. He wore a tight T-shirt and jeans. His eyes, though, were hard and unforgiving. I wasn’t surprised by the anger there. Not a lot of knights make it to Rob’s age without gaining at least some bitterness.
“Do me a favor and circle the block,” I said. “I want to make sure he doesn’t have any guys stashed away watching us.”
“You got it boss.” Rob put the Mustang in gear and pulled out into the street. The engine rumbled (a little too conspicuously for my tastes), but Rob knew to keep the RPMs down. He cruised down the block before hanging a right onto a one-way street. The older knight knew what he was doing—he drove slowly, but not so slowly that we’d attract attention from passersby or cops.
Not that there was much attention to attract. The whole block was empty. No cars, no open shops, not so much as a panhandler or a street musician. This vacancy wasn’t like the one at the Table’s headquarters. That had been like a small town plopped down in the middle of Queens. This, though, was like a forest after a band of poachers had moved in.
If Brooklyn ever seceded from the rest of New York City, it’d be one of the most heavily populated cities in the U.S. Two and a half million people were crammed like salted fish into a space of about seventy square miles. There shouldn’t have been this much empty space in Brooklyn. If Flavian and his retainers had been set up in the warehouse for the last six months, it went a long way to explaining the lack of people. Vampires, like a lot of large supe predators give off bad vibes. For most people it’s an unconscious response, like an instinct, but when there are a lot of vampires in an area, people get out. Think of it like a herd of elk—when a new wolf pack claims territory, they’re gonna get gone.
I wasn’t much worried about the bodega owners and residents of the neighborhood. They’d have gotten out, probably pretty quickly after Flavian set up shop. But the homeless people? It’s a sad fact, but most homeless people have mental illnesses, some of which could interfere with the people’s ability to detect the danger posed by vampires. If they’d stuck around, unaware of the risk, they’d have been turned into a buffet.
My hands tightened so hard into fists that my nails dug furrows in my palms. This wasn’t supposed to happen here. Almost three hundred years ago the Round Table and the vampires had signed a treaty ending the Second Vampire War. Part of that agreement had been the outlawing of such widespread feeding except in certain designated
Both of those images have roots in reality, but neither of them are anywhere near the most common location for vampires. You have to remember that vamps aren’t human, despite their appearances—they’re animals. Typically, they like to lurk in places that are out of the way, dark and secure and near a reliable source of food.
Flavian lived in an abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn.
The morning sun wasn’t at its midday height yet when Rob parked his Mustang on the side of the street in front of the warehouse, but it was plenty hot enough to charbroil any vamps unlucky enough to be caught wandering around outside.
From the outside the warehouse didn’t look like much. It was huge, taking up most of a city block, and it towered over its neighbors. It had a suspiciously intact flat roof and huge metal doors. The windows, up near the roof, were either boarded over, spray-painted black, or both. It wasn’t exactly Castle Dracula, but I guessed it was the best thing available in Brooklyn.
“As far as I know,” Rob said, “Flavian’s been here since the war started. There are a couple dozen vamps in there with him. He’s nervous about some amateur hunter taking a shot at him.”
Rob looked like somebody’s cool, middle-aged uncle. He had chin-length brown hair that was beginning to show signs of gray and a soul patch under his mouth. He wore a tight T-shirt and jeans. His eyes, though, were hard and unforgiving. I wasn’t surprised by the anger there. Not a lot of knights make it to Rob’s age without gaining at least some bitterness.
“Do me a favor and circle the block,” I said. “I want to make sure he doesn’t have any guys stashed away watching us.”
“You got it boss.” Rob put the Mustang in gear and pulled out into the street. The engine rumbled (a little too conspicuously for my tastes), but Rob knew to keep the RPMs down. He cruised down the block before hanging a right onto a one-way street. The older knight knew what he was doing—he drove slowly, but not so slowly that we’d attract attention from passersby or cops.
Not that there was much attention to attract. The whole block was empty. No cars, no open shops, not so much as a panhandler or a street musician. This vacancy wasn’t like the one at the Table’s headquarters. That had been like a small town plopped down in the middle of Queens. This, though, was like a forest after a band of poachers had moved in.
If Brooklyn ever seceded from the rest of New York City, it’d be one of the most heavily populated cities in the U.S. Two and a half million people were crammed like salted fish into a space of about seventy square miles. There shouldn’t have been this much empty space in Brooklyn. If Flavian and his retainers had been set up in the warehouse for the last six months, it went a long way to explaining the lack of people. Vampires, like a lot of large supe predators give off bad vibes. For most people it’s an unconscious response, like an instinct, but when there are a lot of vampires in an area, people get out. Think of it like a herd of elk—when a new wolf pack claims territory, they’re gonna get gone.
I wasn’t much worried about the bodega owners and residents of the neighborhood. They’d have gotten out, probably pretty quickly after Flavian set up shop. But the homeless people? It’s a sad fact, but most homeless people have mental illnesses, some of which could interfere with the people’s ability to detect the danger posed by vampires. If they’d stuck around, unaware of the risk, they’d have been turned into a buffet.
My hands tightened so hard into fists that my nails dug furrows in my palms. This wasn’t supposed to happen here. Almost three hundred years ago the Round Table and the vampires had signed a treaty ending the Second Vampire War. Part of that agreement had been the outlawing of such widespread feeding except in certain designated
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