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Authors: Rebekah R. Ganiere
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the phone. The texture of the wooden knife handle cut into Neeman’s palm, his hands shaking as he waited to strike. Brodrick’s brown eyes widened in terror when he saw Neeman and recognition dawned on his face before—
A soft knock on the bathroom door pulled Neeman from his memories. He blew out a breath and scrubbed his hands over his face.
Composing himself, he stepped back into his room. The girl was gone but the goblet and clean knife sat on the desk.
He crossed to the goblet, his body humming with need. He picked it up and sniffed. The scent of lavender wafted off the rich crimson liquid. His fangs throbbed for the taste. The pain shot up the nerve endings in his face and over his scalp. He held back, refusing to give in to his baser nature. Control, he needed control. He was in charge, not the appetite.
His gut clenched like a dried piece of lumber. His head throbbed and his eyesight blurred. He took a sip. The taste lingered on his tongue, bold and beautiful. He savored the flavor, letting it pool and roll across his tongue like a fine wine.
Who was he kidding?
Gripping the goblet so tight he feared he’d break it, he drained the glass in two gulps. Strength rushed through him at the influx of nutrients. Like electricity flowing through wires, the blood rushed through him, replenishing his sapped energy stores. He tipped the goblet and sucked down the last drops before rinsing it in the sink and heading to his wooden box.
He weighed the familiar knife in his hand before setting it in the box. The sensation of stabbing Brodrick over and over and over, so many times he’d lost count, ran through him. He set the goblet next to it. His gaze travelled to his treasured photographs.
That wasn’t the photo that should have been on top.
He took out the pictures and thumbed through them. They were in order, but the top three were in the back. He tried to remember when he’d last looked through them. He couldn’t.
“Neeman, are you ready?” asked Riley, from outside his door.
He organized the photos before locking the box and setting it back in his closet.
“Coming.”
Chapter 6
Neeman pulled out of what was left of the Navy Pier into what was once called Streeterville and headed south toward Chicago Heights. The southernmost part of Chicago city now, but not even close to being the edge of Chicago territory.
The territory Danika lorded over stretched from North Dakota to Oklahoma, over to Kentucky and up to Michigan. Of all the areas in what was left of the United States, it was the smallest, population-wise. No Vampires lived in most of the states, unless they were trying to keep under the radar. And a lot of the hotter and colder places housed only small encampments of human refugees fleeing from the Vampire rule.
In the years since the awakening when Vampires and vampyr had come out of hiding, he still hadn’t become used to driving around in the open. But with the wars and then the outbreak turning the majority of humans into vamps, he was actually considered a leader of sorts in the country. He went where he wanted with only Danika and the three kings to answer to. He’d never been that powerful before. As a human, he’d been a firefighter. The women loved it and he’d loved the thrill.
Driving past the half-vacant businesses reminded Neeman of his firefighter days. Every three or four buildings there was a burned out one, from arsonists. A bakery stood open. Next to it, the flower shop had closed down. The outbreak of the V2000 virus had wiped out over half the world’s population. The rest now lived as the blue-collar servants of the Vampire society, subservient to Vampire and vampyr alike.
He passed the stadium. No longer used, the building still stood as a testament to the country that had once been.
“Do we know what we’re looking for?” asked Stephos from the passenger seat.
“A demon,” said Neeman.
“Then he could look like anything. Mason’s demon and he
A soft knock on the bathroom door pulled Neeman from his memories. He blew out a breath and scrubbed his hands over his face.
Composing himself, he stepped back into his room. The girl was gone but the goblet and clean knife sat on the desk.
He crossed to the goblet, his body humming with need. He picked it up and sniffed. The scent of lavender wafted off the rich crimson liquid. His fangs throbbed for the taste. The pain shot up the nerve endings in his face and over his scalp. He held back, refusing to give in to his baser nature. Control, he needed control. He was in charge, not the appetite.
His gut clenched like a dried piece of lumber. His head throbbed and his eyesight blurred. He took a sip. The taste lingered on his tongue, bold and beautiful. He savored the flavor, letting it pool and roll across his tongue like a fine wine.
Who was he kidding?
Gripping the goblet so tight he feared he’d break it, he drained the glass in two gulps. Strength rushed through him at the influx of nutrients. Like electricity flowing through wires, the blood rushed through him, replenishing his sapped energy stores. He tipped the goblet and sucked down the last drops before rinsing it in the sink and heading to his wooden box.
He weighed the familiar knife in his hand before setting it in the box. The sensation of stabbing Brodrick over and over and over, so many times he’d lost count, ran through him. He set the goblet next to it. His gaze travelled to his treasured photographs.
That wasn’t the photo that should have been on top.
He took out the pictures and thumbed through them. They were in order, but the top three were in the back. He tried to remember when he’d last looked through them. He couldn’t.
“Neeman, are you ready?” asked Riley, from outside his door.
He organized the photos before locking the box and setting it back in his closet.
“Coming.”
Chapter 6
Neeman pulled out of what was left of the Navy Pier into what was once called Streeterville and headed south toward Chicago Heights. The southernmost part of Chicago city now, but not even close to being the edge of Chicago territory.
The territory Danika lorded over stretched from North Dakota to Oklahoma, over to Kentucky and up to Michigan. Of all the areas in what was left of the United States, it was the smallest, population-wise. No Vampires lived in most of the states, unless they were trying to keep under the radar. And a lot of the hotter and colder places housed only small encampments of human refugees fleeing from the Vampire rule.
In the years since the awakening when Vampires and vampyr had come out of hiding, he still hadn’t become used to driving around in the open. But with the wars and then the outbreak turning the majority of humans into vamps, he was actually considered a leader of sorts in the country. He went where he wanted with only Danika and the three kings to answer to. He’d never been that powerful before. As a human, he’d been a firefighter. The women loved it and he’d loved the thrill.
Driving past the half-vacant businesses reminded Neeman of his firefighter days. Every three or four buildings there was a burned out one, from arsonists. A bakery stood open. Next to it, the flower shop had closed down. The outbreak of the V2000 virus had wiped out over half the world’s population. The rest now lived as the blue-collar servants of the Vampire society, subservient to Vampire and vampyr alike.
He passed the stadium. No longer used, the building still stood as a testament to the country that had once been.
“Do we know what we’re looking for?” asked Stephos from the passenger seat.
“A demon,” said Neeman.
“Then he could look like anything. Mason’s demon and he
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