Vampires anyone?
SURPRISE! I've been working on a little gift for you lovely newsletter suckers--er, I mean subscribers! =P
I've been working on a short little prequel that you and the reader group get to see before it goes up on Bookfunnel. And since February doesn't have a release, I figured this would be a nice little thing to do each week before I start sharing snippets from the next book.
So here it is! The first words in a brand new series in a brand new world!
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Soren Magnusson stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets and joined the rabble making their way across the street. The group was an odd mix of human and vampire bodies. The ones with their hearts still thudding away scurried quickly, barely throwing more than quick glances in either direction to make sure the tin cans had truly obeyed the stoplights.
The others--his kind--were more at ease. They moved in their own time, graceful predators assured in their place at the top of the food chain. And they were correct. To a point.
That assurance hadn’t saved the last Lord over Salem.
Soren’s scowl drew a frightened squeak out of a breather he truly hadn’t seen. The woman stumbled out of his path and pressed herself against the cold brick of the building looming over the sidewalk. Her heart thumped louder as her eyes went wide, gaze sliding away and bouncing back in her panic.
His first instinct was to apologize and discard her entirely from his mind. He’d been distracted, after all. She’d simply been going about her business when he snarled her into a fright. The offense was his, the same as if he’d disobeyed the traffic signs and received an indignant honk.
And maybe that attitude was the one that let Roderick’s killer get close enough to bury the stake in his heart.
Soren narrowed his eyes. For all he knew, the shaking woman had been the one to do the deed. Doubtful. Stupid to stay in the city after. Even so, he couldn’t rule it out entirely.
Danger and suspicion wrapped around him like a cloak as he turned from the human and charged down the sidewalk with murder on his mind.
He took the next left, then stalked six blocks before making a right. More lefts and more rights carried him deeper into the city as he turned over the puzzle pieces in his head.
Roderick hadn’t been known for carelessness. The vampire had survived the rise and fall of great empires, watched cities burn piles of diseased dead, and avoided meeting a final end from sun or stake or fae. He’d played the perfect politician, never pushing too hard against one faction or another, always slinking off to his own little base of power. He’d squeaked by under everyone’s radar and, by all accounts, handled his subjects in Salem with fairness.
That was the troubling part. The role came with staff and guards. Even without enemies, Roderick rarely traveled without the extra protection. So what the hell had led the vampire out alone into the middle of the city?
Soren’s lips quirked into a grimace. Roderick wasn’t the only fool to walk the streets alone.
“Hey, baby,” a woman purred as she stepped out of the shadows. A casual shake of her hair exposed her neck. “Wanna come play?”
Soren pulled up sharply and blinked at the buildings around him. In his blind wandering, he’d found his way to the seediest part of Salem. No less than three feeder clubs advertised their goods on the street, another sign of how little the previous Lord had cared. Vampires needed to eat, that part didn’t bother him. They were simply supposed to be a little more… discreet.
No, he corrected himself. That was all in the past, and he wasn’t one of those weak creatures incapable of evolving with the times. He’d watched just over one thousand years turn great halls to dust just as easily as the tattered clothes of forgotten trends. There was still sometimes a shock at seeing the human and supernatural worlds walking together, but never enough to send him hiding in his coffin.
Soren glanced over his shoulder. Through the buildings and along the water’s edge was the square he’d thus far avoided. Hiding from the unstoppable crawl of time, no. Duty was another matter.
He honestly wasn’t sure if the assignment was a punishment or reward. He couldn’t even be certain the order came from Roana herself. The Mad Queen hadn’t been the same in the years since the war with the unseelie fae. Any one of her handlers might have spoken through her mouth.
He rolled his shoulders. Speculation didn’t help matters. Roana, some hanger-on in her court, the origin point didn’t matter. Salem was his.
Soren Magnusson, Lord over Salem. A mouthful, to be honest, but there was a certain charm to the words. Charm, and a fuckton of power.
Power he needed to wield to figure out who killed Roderick.
Without a word, Soren strode away from the woman still trying to hawk her blood. He’d delayed long enough. Real work waited for him at his new home.
He crossed three more blocks when the back of his neck began to itch. Another two, with a pause to browse a window and study the passing reflections, and he knew he was being followed.
Across the street, a dark-haired woman glanced over her shoulder. When he moved down three shops, she moved with him. When he strolled back down a block, she followed.
Soren gave up his window shopping and continued on his way. He kept his gait slow and casual, obeyed the unspoken rules of the sidewalk and laws for pedestrian crossings, and above all, tried not to give up the card he held. Hunter and hunted could change swiftly under the right circumstances.
He joined a group at the next crosswalk and eyed the little red figure straight ahead with complete boredom. At the last second, he hurried across the street in the opposite direction and toward the blinking sign warning walkers their safe passage was at an end.
Behind him, he heard a curse and more than a few complaints. He glanced over his shoulder to see his dark-haired stalker coming to a sudden stop inches from the restarted traffic flow. She glanced left and right, obviously scanning for someone—him—and when she locked eyes with him, she merely lifted her chin and watched.
He wasn’t under the mistaken idea that his little trick would keep her off his tail for long. Nor did he want her to lose interest so easily. He needed to know if she targeted him specifically or if she went after the first vampire she spotted on the street.
Soren kept to the main street, but eyed every alley opening he passed. He wanted something open on either side, deserted, and without any potential onlookers from windows above. Most of all, he wanted to make his hunter come to him.
Still feeling an itch on the back of his neck, he slipped between a set of buildings and waited.
He didn’t have long before the whisper of a scent invaded his nose. It was light and fruity and tickled his nostrils, teasing at him like the memory of a memory. He could almost believe it to be of fae origin the way it consumed him from the inside out. Unsurprising, really. They’d held the city longer than the humans. No wonder traces were baked into the cracks of pavement, like gristle stuck between the teeth.
Only, it wasn’t just a lingering scent coming from the city. The scent grew stronger as a woman crossed the mouth of the alley.
Impossible. The last of the fae were gone. Those that hadn’t been killed in battle fled defeat to their twisted lands.
And yet, there she stood… not fae, but smelling of the bastards.
By Roana’s decree, he should destroy her immediately. Tempting, after all the destruction her kind had caused. But he had questions that needed answers first.
To anyone else, she looked intimidating. Long black hair twisted into braids along the crown of her head and over each of her ears, then combined into one plait that hung over her shoulder. She dressed in the all-black uniform of a prowler, and while her clothes hugged her frame, it was clear she didn’t intend to hit any clubs after she finished her business. The boots on her feet were for kicking ass, not dancing the night away, and he very much doubted the strategically placed lumps at her hips and the tops of her boots were wallets or lipsticks.
Whoever--whatever--she was, she came prepared to fight.
“You sure know how to make a man feel welcomed on his first night in the city,” Soren said in a bored voice. “If you’d wanted my number, all you had to do was ask.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she snapped. Disgust curled her lips as she flicked a judging look up and down his frame. “It’s time you and all the other bloodsuckers get back in the coffin where you belong.”
“That so?” he questioned with a smirk. Still, not answer enough. Too generalized to make him a specific target or her involved in Roderick’s death. He took the guess anyway and fired off another question, “Did you tell that to the last Lord you killed?”
Something flickered across her expression. Confusion, if he read her correctly. Surprise. They were the opening he needed, but she slammed shut the crack before he could dig for more.
“Enough,” she spat. Her fingers twitched near her waist and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “This isn’t your city anymore.”
She moved fast, launching herself down the alley. Soren let off a low growl and braced himself. If the fool wanted to go up against a supernatural being, he’d be happy to grant her death wish.
Metal glinted between her fingers between one step and the next as she tossed a throwing star straight at his chest.
Soren twisted in place, focus momentarily breaking from the hunter. The weapon sailed through the air in the exact spot he’d occupied a moment before.
He barely had time to thank his reflexes before the woman was on him. She aimed a punch at his stomach as her other hand reached behind her back. The second jab flashed toward his gut, a blade tucked against her palm and ready to disembowel him where he stood.
Soren jumped back with a snarl. She was brave, he’d give her that. And fast. Well-trained, too. She moved with a lethal grace that marked her as more than someone dressing the part of a killer.
He knocked back the punch aimed at his side, then stepped a foot between hers. She jumped back, but it was too late. He latched his hand around her throat and slammed her against the wall.
“Who sent you?” he demanded.
No fear entered her eyes as she shook her head. Through the squeeze of fingers, she hissed, “Won’t matter when you’re dead.”
Searing pain exploded in his side. Soren growled and stumbled back, letting the woman drop back to the ground as he clutched a hand to his stomach. Blood seeped between his fingers, but he was more concerned with the burning that pulsed outward from the wound.
Silver. Fuck.
“Still kicking, sweetheart,” he said through clenched teeth. He’d need more than a knife wound to send him into the gods’ embrace. “All you’ve managed is to piss me off.”
She dropped into a fighting position and held the knife between them. Fear still didn’t show on her face, only certainty that she’d win.
She stiffened suddenly and whipped her head around. Whatever caught her attention formed a grimace on her face when she swung her attention back to him. Soren readied himself for another attack, but she backed away and disappeared the blade in her hand.
Pure hatred glared at him in the depths of her eyes. “The Void doesn’t want you tonight,” she spat out. “But don’t worry, I’ll be there when your name gets called up.”
With that, she turned on her heel and raced out of the alley.
Soren took one step after her before the pull of his side made him reconsider. The burn ran deep, but he could feel the wound stitching back together. Besides, he had staff and guards waiting for him. Chasing after a random attacker was their job.
If he could trust them. If they hadn’t sold him out, the same as they’d sold out Roderick.
He leaned against the side of the building. The Void. Fucking hell, he thought that madness had been stamped out years ago. The last thing he needed was some fae-smelling killer deep into death cult bullshit.
A scuffed step yanked at his attention and he straightened, fangs dropping. A squeak was his only answer before an older woman scurried back onto the busy sidewalk and left him to his thoughts.
Gods, he hadn’t even been properly installed as Lord over Salem and the knives were already seeking his heart.
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