The Hunger - Vampire Huntress Legend 3 Page 11

  Carlos smiled as he studied the clerics' drained expressions. "You know how delicate the human throat is… how very few bones keep it attached to the shoulders? Something eating or attacking could easily decapitate a victim without even trying that hard." When Father Lopez looked away, it was all he could do not to chuckle.

  "Are you sure?" Father Patrick said, his tone firm, sending a quiet warning to stop scaring the young priest.

  "Yeah, I'm sure," Carlos muttered, defiance claiming him.

  They nodded, and he enjoyed the worry on their faces.

  "I cover North America, South America, and the Caribbean because Nuit took South America topside and ceded it to me for bringing him Damali. That's history. But the attacker wasn't one of mine. If there was vamp tracer on a body, from either one of my diluted line or a poacher, I would have known. If those humans that fell were inhabited by a demon, I would have picked up the sulfur trail right away. Nothing goes down in my territory by another vamp without it transmitting to me. But I do need to get out, all bullshit aside, to properly track it."

  "You wouldn't feed from any people… or human remains while you were out there, would you?" Padre Lopez brought his hand up to his cross and began nervously toying with it. "You'd only take a deer, like you promised us before, right?"

  He was pleased that the young cleric's resolve was wavering. After a mental blast like that, he'd be shocked if the man hadn't responded.

  "I don't eat carrion," Carlos said, indignant. "The victims were already dead for a coupla days when they were found and were too far for me to even think about getting to—if I was so inclined, and I'm not." He hated that a collective sigh of relief from the clerics greeted his statement. What did they think he was? A bottom feeder? Only lowlife demons ate dead meat. He was a master vampire!

  "Gentlemen. I'm the only male master in this region, on two continents. I've got all the lower-level males who had not allied with Nuit, and therefore, haven't been dusted by council, pushing up on my business enterprises, jockeying for position. They can only assume I'm out there, somewhere, but must be too badly injured to respond or that the council has me detained in the Sea of Perpetual Agony for some offense. That leaves major sectors of my territory wide open. I need to get with that and address the flagrant violation of my authority!"

  "Okay," Father Patrick said, growing weary. "We understand that you have ego-based concerns that have to be addressed in the vampire world to keep up your ruse—"

  "You do not understand what I'm telling you," Carlos yelled. "It's not ego, it's primal. It's the fiber of what a master vampire is!" Four sets of widened eyes stared back at him as the color drained from the clerics' faces when his fangs inadvertently slid down from beneath his gums. Carlos ran his tongue over his teeth to send them back—but the shit felt good. Had been a while.

  "I want you to imagine where I am right now," he said quietly. "And I'm not going to screw with your minds—this is just the facts." He waited until the group's seer, Father Patrick, nodded before he continued. "Gentlemen, I have vamp females out there who are sending out probes to sense for the strongest male in the territory, and even though I'm blocked behind your prayer wall, I can hear themùsince you left a breach for me to detect what you needed me to. And the shit they send to lure a male master… you have no idea. I'm just glad Damali's isn't transmitting, too… but she doesn't know I'm alive."

  He drummed his fingers on the edge of the window frame. "The females of our kind are designed for two purposes. Primary—take the stake, the daylight, the arrow, whatever, in the event that a master's lair is breached. When we make one, or acquire one, it's in her cellular code: be a body shield. We always travel with five points of the pentagram, therefore at least five females; the sixth element is the crest, the centerpiece is the strongest male. Same formation with peripheral, male bodyguards. So, the five strongest females in the regions will compete using telepathy until they lock with a male master, then they'll leave the weaker males and come to me. They know the registers haven't run blood with the death of a second master… they are calling me by name… no, you have no idea."

  Just confessing was making his hands begin to shake. He put them behind his back and walked toward the kitchen to go find blood. "As above, so below. They have the same instincts as female lions, that's the way we're set up. They'll even hunt for you, if you ask, and feed you from their veins if you're injured or too lazy to break a sweat."

  "Carlos… we didn't know—"

  "No, Father. You don't understand my world at all!" He glared at the elderly man, and then allowed his gaze to sweep the others in a hard rake. "When one of us gets injured, it's in their code to track us, find us, and take us to shelter and bring blood. Preservation of the line at all times." Carlos wiped his face with both hands, truly feeling the call of the night in multiple female timbres.

  "They can sense me near, but haven't been able to locate me for a month because of the damned prayer lines blocking them. It's driving them crazy, and me with them, because they know I was injured and in danger of the sun. The more frenzied and panicked their calls become, the harder it is for me to stay in here." He chuckled and looked out the window.

  "Carlos, you're going to get through this difficult transition," Monk Lin said, his voice an attempt to soothe. "You died with a prayer in your heart, which is why you can hear the name of the Almighty, even say it, and because you still have a piece of a soul."

  "Ultimately, you are moving toward the light each night that you purge yourself of your old ways," Asula said, his voice dropped to a calm timbre. "Our goal is not to torture you. This is not a period of punishment in the atonement process, but rather a reversal of your perspective."

  Carlos chuckled, the tone in it brittle. "Torture? This is the fucking Inquisition, fellas." All he understood right now was what they were dangling over his head, but what he couldn't have. Freedom. He knew from his old life how to give a man a taste of something he craved, just a taste of it, then how to dangle it over his head to keep him in line. He used to do it all the time.

  "We didn't want to deceive you," Father Lopez said in a quiet voice. "We wanted to illustrate your options in a safe environment… so you could make informed decisions."

  "Informed decisions? I wasn't informed that you wanted me to hunt down a predator on my turf. The last thing you said was help the Neteru get her sight back so she could hunt and stay safe—and investigate what was out there. I was down with that. No problem. I wanted baby girl safe, too."

  "We also need you to restore her hope, by giving her some of yours. We wanted to rejuvenate your spirit, as much as we wanted your body repaired."

  Carlos stared at Father Patrick hard. "Hope? You all definitely came to the wrong place for that… and I know you don't want me to work on her body." He shook his head and laughed. "If I remember from my old catechism classes, evil is everywhere and will ride the airwaves until the big war, Armageddon, or until the good guys go up in the Rapture. Right? I cannot mind lock with her on a two-way. No. Thought I could hang, but I can't."

  "Why not?" Father Lopez glanced from one cleric to the other and then looked at Carlos nervously. "You just did it to me, sent me the wrong thing, but… you could send her—"

  "Hombre, just squash it." The young man was so foolish it was making Carlos pace.

  "The Lord works in mysterious ways," Father Patrick said with confidence. "If a person goes through their whole life without a break, hope can die and our Neteru is losing the battle with—"

  "Spare me!" Carlos whirled around and held up his hand.

  "We did," Father Patrick said, his eyes not holding anger, but something close to amusement.

  "I'm not hearing this bullshit. Okay, ironically, the prayer lines have been taking some of the cut out of that blade in my skull… but shit…" Carlos leaned against the wall, his gaze toward the clerics unwavering. "Don't ask me to do a two-way lock with Damali, ever. Especially not with the female vamps sending and open for my tel
epathy signal… their secondary purpose is beyond your comprehension, fellas. A couple of nights ago, I almost went there and blew my cover. The only reason I didn't is that I wanted to be sure I was back to full power, all my wounds were thoroughly healed, and that I could battle another male, which is always inevitable if you go out. Self preservation is always first, but after that…"

  "Your will is strong enough to—"

  "Father Patrick, get real. The whole job of a female vamp is to keep you sated, in lair, and out of danger, only coming out to feed and hunt when absolutely necessary… patrolling your borders with caution. They'll gorge on fresh, adrenaline-pumped kill, bring it to you hot… for a double-plunge siphon… aw, man, you just do not know…"

  He walked by the coffee table and kicked it to stave off the shiver just knowing had sent through him. It was of little comfort that his misguided jailers had compassion in their eyes, because their wills were still tightly bound on keeping him in tonight.

  "Neteru scent works the same way—it locks around all your senses, and fucking drags you into the street, five lair kittens notwithstanding, it beats their call… which ain't no joke." He pointed to the window, his arm extending in a hard snap. "You have me trapped in here with Neteru pumping adrenaline in nightly blood hunts, singing her heart out… some sad shit about losing her soul in Hell, five strong females calling my name with bait like you wouldn't believe, goddamned competitors eating up my territory, and you want me to do this sentence cold turkey, and don't even have a blunt on you?" He was incredulous when they didn't flinch. "You can't hear it, but I can."

  His gaze was drawn to the window like a magnet. He faced the night and listened to her siren call to him. She was wearing pitch black, and she was serving stars like diamonds. Nothin' but da rocksùnight was all iced up. He focused on the stars. The moon cast a bluish tint on the tall redwoods and pines surrounding the cabin. The colors moving against the tree leaves had the allure of a silk scarf floating gently on the breeze against a woman's throat. The night was one sexy bitch…

  "Carlos, son, evil creates plagues and disasters, violence. You're right. These things have been unleashed to inhabit the planet. But each time an individual goes against evil, whether in a small personal battle with themselves, or within their family, or whether it is a group that conquers evil with peace, harmony, beauty, love… or the sword of truth, we win. Just like when we see people rush to help people they don't even know… you've seen average individuals do heroic things, risk everything in their lives and rush to aid someone in a fire, or something equally as tragic. That action also affects those less courageous, gives them hope. Perhaps it helps a mother hug her child tighter, or makes a man give up a vice—nothing is ever wasted in the battle, not even you. Our side uses disasters, that we did not create and that evil did, to bring out the best in mankind."

  "It is akin to spiritual judo," Monk Lin said softly. "We use the enemy's aggression against itself, and use its weight to flip it. Such a cry goes up to Heaven when people see things that are so terribly unjust that it gives them pause. Even the worst of men, generally, have a limit."

  "You must battle—"

  "I am losing the battle tonight and I have reached my limit," Carlos said, pure honesty in his tone. "Now at full strength, I can't take these calls—while injured, yeah, but not tonight." Carlos slapped the center of his chest and then went to the refrigerator and slung the door opened so hard that it came off the hinges. "And all you got in here is cold blood?" With total disgust, he repaired the refrigerator. "I need something to bring me down… a damned Valium or something." Carlos raked his fingers through his hair.

  "The only thing that's keeping me sane is the fact that Damali's third eye is half blind, she hasn't sent a mental lock my way… 'Cause if girlfriend ever wakes up and calls me…I'll fucking torch myself trying to breach that line out there." His voice dropped to a low threat. "But not before gorging well like I need to." He eyed each one of his captors, his resolve to keep his soul in Purgatory wavering. "Some shit, gentlemen, is just nature." He allowed his words to come out slowly, one at a time, to make his point. "Let. Me. Out. Very soon. I can't hang indefinitely."

  Father Patrick's grip tightened on his weapon, as did the others around him. "Before we can do that, we need to be sure that—"

  "You need to respect our cultural differences," Carlos muttered, finally opting for a cold plastic bag, and taking a swig from it before he totally lost it. His gaze went to the window again as another urgent call split his senses and ate into his brain. "Every man has his limits. Tonight, I just found mine."

  * * *

  Chapter Six

  Freedom, precious freedom. Carlos stood in the dense woods where he had first been made and breathed in the scents of the night. Things were so different now that there was no fear. The cicadas' call merged with that of the night frogs. The leathery sounds of bats' wings flapping echoed through him with the lonely hoot of a hunting owl. But the call of his female kind, now that he was beyond the barriers, was so visceral that he shuddered. But he couldn't blow his cover. The empire needed to think he was still somewhere injured.

  As a mental diversion to sure temptation, he became mist, then indulged himself to transform into a large, black panther stalking nothing and everything until the cry of wolves seduced him to change again and become one of them, howling until they went still from known terror.

  Yes! Every sensation was heightened as he took his own form again, his peripheral vision casing the landscape, his night vision capable of detecting the slightest movement within the tall redwoods. From afar he looked up at an insect burrowing into the bark of a high branch. It seemed so close that he could reach it with his hands. The pleasure of being outdoors at night sent another shudder of sudden arousal through him that was stronger than had been anticipated. What a rush…

  Standing there breathing in the night, he realized just how much his vampire nature had been repressed. Out here, all alone, yeah, the clerics had reason to worry. He needed to hunt so badly that his fangs suddenly lowered without his permission. The erection that came with it felt like a lead pipe straining against his leather pants.

  Perspiration wet his brow as he thought of the human throat, what the veins looked like under the skin, how the blood sounded as it pulsed life through a body, and he trembled. He was for sure gonna drop a body tonight… go check out the ladies, establish a lair. Fuck going back into captivity. It was a wise choice for them to let him out tonight, probably for their own safety, but it was also the stupidest thing they could have ever done. Letting a master vampire out that hadn't been fed right in a month?

  Carlos began walking, trying to decide what part of LA to dine in. Then he stopped. Oh, shit… He was like a virgin. He laughed and shook his head.

  His amusement soon dissipated as the harsh truth entered him. He'd only tasted blood from another vampire's veins. Had only fed on the carrion Raven left behind—an already dead, half-drained security guard. Disgust filled him. Damn. He'd only taken a drink from the tap and bottled blood within the Dominican don's vampire lair, and now was being sustained by monks. Their blood was as devoid of adrenaline as grain-fed beef. It was laughable. It was pitiful. It was a waste of sheer power. He was a disgrace as a master vampire. He was a virgin, after all. "Kiss my natural ass…"

  Gathering self-control, Carlos smoothed out the arms of his suit jacket. He couldn't afford to psyche himself out. The erection would go down, just like the urge to sink fangs into a fragile throat would. Hopefully. He had business to attend to. Couldn't go back into his territory and clean out poachers without having his shit straight. Not. And as badly as he also wanted to get laid at the moment, it was not about screwing himself for a little bit of tail. He'd never allowed pussy to come before business, not even while alive—no matter how raw it was. Not hardly. Hombre was many things, but foolish was not one of them.

  Carlos focused his energy and siphoned more from the life energy around him within the nigh
t. The smell of death entered his nose. It tasted like metal at the back of his throat. Good. The messengers were on their way. 'Bout time.

  The trees looked liked they'd split cells and doubled as four hooded entities stepped out of the shadows, their red eyes glowing in faceless black holes within their dark robes. Carlos smiled.

  Brandishing scythes, one moved forward, pointing a skeletal finger in Carlos's direction. "You called us."

  "Yeah, man. Que pasa? I need to get word to the Vampire Council."

  Carlos waited, knowing that there was an inspection to pass.

  "He is clean," one of the others said without advancing. "He still bears the council's mark. It is Rivera."

  "We were concerned," two said in unison. "You did not report in after the battle in the tunnels. The slayer was lost for three days. You left no trail."

  Carlos put his hands behind his back and let his gaze settle on each entity one by one before speaking. "I was to bring her to the council, and also hit Nuit. I did that—hit Nuit. But I ran into a roadblock."

  "Continue," the lead messenger said. "We have registered that kill, as well as many others by your hand. Of that, the Vampire Council is pleased."

  "Aw'ight, then chill. I had her in my arms, trying to get her through the tunnels, when I was ambushed. You know that, because your squads got there late." Carlos allowed his fangs to come down in a mock show of sudden rage. "I was calling for backup, and you slow motherfuckers left me out there hanging, hombre. I got half my face ripped off, my shit jacked, you feel me? The best I could do was put my body between Nuit's forces and the Neteru to ensure the cargo didn't get damaged."