Read Online Roaring Dawn: Macey Book 3 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 10) by Colleen Gleason - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Colleen Gleason
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among the pyramids, cobras, tigers, and the aerial views.” The woman gave a little laugh. “Forgive me, but I’ve already forgotten your name, and we met just moments ago.”
Macey hadn’t actually given her name, and surely that was merely the woman’s polite way of asking. “Macey Denton. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re very talented…and very courageous.”
Sabrina Ellison’s eyes glinted with something like satisfaction. “Thank you, Macey. Oh, dear.” She seemed to catch herself. “I hope you don’t mind the informality—please, do call me Sabrina.”
“Thank you, I will,” Macey replied politely, but she felt strange that a woman she’d just met and would never see again should be so eager to talk to her as if they were chums.
Maybe it was simply because they were both women—surely it couldn’t be easy being a woman in a vocation that was obviously dominated by men. Her smile became more genuine. The two of them had that in common, at least, though Sabrina Ellison would have no way of knowing it.
“It really is one of my favorites, and taking it was very nearly as life-threatening as shooting the one of the cobra,” Sabrina said, her eyes focused on the photograph.
“Why was that?” Macey asked in surprise.
Sabrina smiled sadly, still watching the man in the picture. “Because the subject is far more dangerous, and he didn’t know I was taking the shot. If he had…I fear I would have been better off facing a stirred-up cobra than that man when he was truly angry.”
There was something in her voice that was almost wistful. Sad and strained; Macey felt a sudden and unusual affinity with this woman she didn’t know.
“Have you ever loved a man it was safer not to?” Sabrina asked.
Macey blinked. Did this woman somehow know what was inside her mind? But she heard herself responding, nonetheless—and honestly, too. “Yes.”
Still staring at the photograph, its creator gave a brief nod. Then she looked over at Macey with a short, chagrined laugh. “I apologize. I don’t know why I even said that—I don’t usually pry into other people’s business, especially their private business.”
“Don’t mention it.” Macey wasn’t sure whether she should flee from the side of this unusual, rawly honest yet magnetic woman, or reach out to pat her arm in comfort.
She might have continued the conversation, but at that moment, a light, eerie chill scuttled across the back of her neck, fingering lightly along her shoulders, lifting the fine hair that grew there.
The undead were here.
At last.
FIVE
~ Stained Dresses and Hasty Exits ~
“Please excuse me, Miss—er, Sabrina,” Macey said, even as she turned to walk away. “I need to attend to something.”
“Of course.”
Macey felt Sabrina’s curious eyes on her as she slipped off, making her way through the crowd. Tonight she had a stake slipped in each garter, both high on her thighs, as well as the same silver cross that had burned Nicholas Iscariot tucked beneath her gown. She considered it her good-luck charm, even though it was bulky and the size of her palm.
It would give her great pleasure to inflict a matching scar on Iscariot’s other cheek.
Macey measured and followed the unpleasant sensation that settled over the back of her neck, and it led her toward the opposite side of the hall, the chill growing stronger and eerier as she made her way there. It occurred to her that perhaps that was part of the reason Capone had drifted off so quickly. Could he have somehow aligned himself with the undead, now that Macey had rid herself of him?
Galvanized by the thought, she moved swiftly between the people, dodging waiters and navigating around tables, all the while looking through the crowd to see if she could determine where or who was the undead…and if she could locate Capone.
She wasn’t paying attention, and all of a sudden, Macey walked into a solid figure. One with which she was intimately
Macey hadn’t actually given her name, and surely that was merely the woman’s polite way of asking. “Macey Denton. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re very talented…and very courageous.”
Sabrina Ellison’s eyes glinted with something like satisfaction. “Thank you, Macey. Oh, dear.” She seemed to catch herself. “I hope you don’t mind the informality—please, do call me Sabrina.”
“Thank you, I will,” Macey replied politely, but she felt strange that a woman she’d just met and would never see again should be so eager to talk to her as if they were chums.
Maybe it was simply because they were both women—surely it couldn’t be easy being a woman in a vocation that was obviously dominated by men. Her smile became more genuine. The two of them had that in common, at least, though Sabrina Ellison would have no way of knowing it.
“It really is one of my favorites, and taking it was very nearly as life-threatening as shooting the one of the cobra,” Sabrina said, her eyes focused on the photograph.
“Why was that?” Macey asked in surprise.
Sabrina smiled sadly, still watching the man in the picture. “Because the subject is far more dangerous, and he didn’t know I was taking the shot. If he had…I fear I would have been better off facing a stirred-up cobra than that man when he was truly angry.”
There was something in her voice that was almost wistful. Sad and strained; Macey felt a sudden and unusual affinity with this woman she didn’t know.
“Have you ever loved a man it was safer not to?” Sabrina asked.
Macey blinked. Did this woman somehow know what was inside her mind? But she heard herself responding, nonetheless—and honestly, too. “Yes.”
Still staring at the photograph, its creator gave a brief nod. Then she looked over at Macey with a short, chagrined laugh. “I apologize. I don’t know why I even said that—I don’t usually pry into other people’s business, especially their private business.”
“Don’t mention it.” Macey wasn’t sure whether she should flee from the side of this unusual, rawly honest yet magnetic woman, or reach out to pat her arm in comfort.
She might have continued the conversation, but at that moment, a light, eerie chill scuttled across the back of her neck, fingering lightly along her shoulders, lifting the fine hair that grew there.
The undead were here.
At last.
FIVE
~ Stained Dresses and Hasty Exits ~
“Please excuse me, Miss—er, Sabrina,” Macey said, even as she turned to walk away. “I need to attend to something.”
“Of course.”
Macey felt Sabrina’s curious eyes on her as she slipped off, making her way through the crowd. Tonight she had a stake slipped in each garter, both high on her thighs, as well as the same silver cross that had burned Nicholas Iscariot tucked beneath her gown. She considered it her good-luck charm, even though it was bulky and the size of her palm.
It would give her great pleasure to inflict a matching scar on Iscariot’s other cheek.
Macey measured and followed the unpleasant sensation that settled over the back of her neck, and it led her toward the opposite side of the hall, the chill growing stronger and eerier as she made her way there. It occurred to her that perhaps that was part of the reason Capone had drifted off so quickly. Could he have somehow aligned himself with the undead, now that Macey had rid herself of him?
Galvanized by the thought, she moved swiftly between the people, dodging waiters and navigating around tables, all the while looking through the crowd to see if she could determine where or who was the undead…and if she could locate Capone.
She wasn’t paying attention, and all of a sudden, Macey walked into a solid figure. One with which she was intimately
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