Read Online Kindred (Kindred, Book 1) by Nicola Claire - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nicola Claire
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which thankfully wasn't very long. The thought of my customers getting in the way of this vamp was not a pleasant one. When he reached the end of the line he just stood there, patiently, like a normal customer waiting their turn. There was absolutely nothing normal about this. He'd taken his glasses and hat off, so I guess even bad guy vamps don't want to set security off and he just stared at me with a hungry look on his face.
In between dealing with those few customers in front of me, I took the opportunity to assess this new threat. He had a scar down his left cheek. It must have been made before he was turned, because an injury like that would have healed in a vamp, especially a vamp with Sanguis Vitam off the scale like this one. I'd guess 250 years old and a level two at least. He didn't try to hide it, he could see its discomfort on my skin by the look on my face and he was enjoying it.
Finally I finished with the last customers in front of me, frantically thinking if I could just put up the Sorry, I'm Closed sign and see if that worked. I don't carry any silver at work. No stake, no knives. It's just never occurred to me that I'd need it in broad daylight. Not here in Auckland. Even the Ghouls are well behaved under the direct light of the sun. But I guess I'd have to change that philosophy from now on.
He approached the counter in the usual vampire glide. His skin was pale white, the epitome of Hollywood vampire complexion. Vampires actually keep pretty much their skin colour from before they were turned, the only difference being a paler version when they haven't fed for some time. His hair hung over his forehead in a greasy hunk of black - another stereotype, not all vamps have dirty, scraggly hair - the contrast against his skin though was startling. He leaned on the counter, letting out a breath of stale, metallic smelling air and it took every ounce of my effort not to pull back and show my fear.
His voice was surprisingly musical, for such a big hulk of a guy. He casually said, “You're going to leave now. Tell your boss you're sick and have got to go home. Don't talk to anyone else, meet us right here, in front of the counter. And Hunter, don't bring silver.”
Just like that, no please or thank you. No we're gonna kill everyone if you don't comply. Just a simple statement of fact. He wasn't even trying to glaze me, but when the threat was made - and it was a threat, no two ways about it - I glanced at Tom & Jerry at the doors. One had his hand on a semi-automatic rifle under his coat and the other was glazing one of my colleagues, making her laugh out loud. I knew then what they'd do if I refused.
The threat was implicit. Don't comply and we'll mess with your bank. I looked around at the other tellers, at my supervisor at the back. The manager was shaking hands with his latest appointment and it dawned on me how many lives would be affected. There were over twenty customers in the branch too, all of them with wives or husbands, kids or loved ones. All of them important to someone else.
Me? I'm just one person. Sure my Mum and Dad would miss me, but that would be it. They'd survive, they've got the farm to keep them busy. I briefly flashed on Michel, but quelled that thought. I wasn't really that important to a Master Vampire, he'd find another obsession no doubt.
So, I nodded. Closed my till drawer, withdrew the key and walked back to my supervisor. It didn't take much convincing for her to let me go. I must have looked like shit. My mind was reeling for an escape plan, but it just kept coming up blank. Maybe, just maybe, they didn't mean me any harm and just wanted a quiet chat.
Yeah ri-ight.
By the time I made it to the front of the branch, where Tom, Jerry and Scar Face were waiting, my knees were knocking, my breath was hitched and my heartbeat was thundering in my veins. There was simply no way to hide that level of fear. The vamps would have been able to smell it a mile off. They didn't say
In between dealing with those few customers in front of me, I took the opportunity to assess this new threat. He had a scar down his left cheek. It must have been made before he was turned, because an injury like that would have healed in a vamp, especially a vamp with Sanguis Vitam off the scale like this one. I'd guess 250 years old and a level two at least. He didn't try to hide it, he could see its discomfort on my skin by the look on my face and he was enjoying it.
Finally I finished with the last customers in front of me, frantically thinking if I could just put up the Sorry, I'm Closed sign and see if that worked. I don't carry any silver at work. No stake, no knives. It's just never occurred to me that I'd need it in broad daylight. Not here in Auckland. Even the Ghouls are well behaved under the direct light of the sun. But I guess I'd have to change that philosophy from now on.
He approached the counter in the usual vampire glide. His skin was pale white, the epitome of Hollywood vampire complexion. Vampires actually keep pretty much their skin colour from before they were turned, the only difference being a paler version when they haven't fed for some time. His hair hung over his forehead in a greasy hunk of black - another stereotype, not all vamps have dirty, scraggly hair - the contrast against his skin though was startling. He leaned on the counter, letting out a breath of stale, metallic smelling air and it took every ounce of my effort not to pull back and show my fear.
His voice was surprisingly musical, for such a big hulk of a guy. He casually said, “You're going to leave now. Tell your boss you're sick and have got to go home. Don't talk to anyone else, meet us right here, in front of the counter. And Hunter, don't bring silver.”
Just like that, no please or thank you. No we're gonna kill everyone if you don't comply. Just a simple statement of fact. He wasn't even trying to glaze me, but when the threat was made - and it was a threat, no two ways about it - I glanced at Tom & Jerry at the doors. One had his hand on a semi-automatic rifle under his coat and the other was glazing one of my colleagues, making her laugh out loud. I knew then what they'd do if I refused.
The threat was implicit. Don't comply and we'll mess with your bank. I looked around at the other tellers, at my supervisor at the back. The manager was shaking hands with his latest appointment and it dawned on me how many lives would be affected. There were over twenty customers in the branch too, all of them with wives or husbands, kids or loved ones. All of them important to someone else.
Me? I'm just one person. Sure my Mum and Dad would miss me, but that would be it. They'd survive, they've got the farm to keep them busy. I briefly flashed on Michel, but quelled that thought. I wasn't really that important to a Master Vampire, he'd find another obsession no doubt.
So, I nodded. Closed my till drawer, withdrew the key and walked back to my supervisor. It didn't take much convincing for her to let me go. I must have looked like shit. My mind was reeling for an escape plan, but it just kept coming up blank. Maybe, just maybe, they didn't mean me any harm and just wanted a quiet chat.
Yeah ri-ight.
By the time I made it to the front of the branch, where Tom, Jerry and Scar Face were waiting, my knees were knocking, my breath was hitched and my heartbeat was thundering in my veins. There was simply no way to hide that level of fear. The vamps would have been able to smell it a mile off. They didn't say
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