The Cold Kiss of Death

Rosa your blood, and don’t you have some sort of kinetic powers?’

‘Rosa is of my blood, but she did not inherit all my abilities.’

‘Don’t bet on it.’ I said as I pulled the chain back and swung it round, all in one easy movement, then let it loose again.

Malik moved like a pale blur over the bed, but I was ready, using my will to guide the chain, aiming for his head. He dived and rolled, and the collar connected, though it hit his shoulder blade instead of his skull. He rolled again, coming up hard against the window, and I flicked my wrist, the chain snaking out towards the larger target of his torso.

But before it hit he was rolling again, regaining his feet and lunging at me. His shoulder thudded into my stomach, lifting me up and driving me back.

My back hit the wall first, then my head, and the plaster gave way, debris exploding everywhere. I dropped the chain and grabbed for Malik as it clanked to the floor. I screamed, digging my fingers into his back and scoring my nails down his skin.

Hissing in pain, he heaved me up and over his head, throwing me into the glass wall. It cracked with a sound like a thousand gunshots, bowed outwards ... and gave way, and I stared down into the empty air, feeling the music thumping like a giant’s heartbeat in my head as tiny chunks of glass fell like sparkling ice cubes towards the oblivious dancers thirty feet below.

I hung suspended, my toes balanced on the edge, my arms windmilling back, desperately trying not to fall.

It would hurt, a lot, but it wouldn’t kill me; Rosa’s body would heal the damage.

But the crowd of humans below? Their bodies were way more fragile.

The imps chortled with glee while, panicked, I tried to force myself back—

Then relief washed over me as I realised I was suspended, in time as well as space; I wasn’t going to fall.

Malik’s arm encircled my waist and the hard edges of the gold-metal bikini dug into my back where he pulled me hard against him. Then the gold collar closed round my neck and his voice shouted in my mind, ‘Now we fly, Genevieve!’

My pulse started speeding, the imps squealed in ecstasy and he stepped out and launched us into the air.

‘But vampires can’t fly,’ I screamed, the sound lost ...

Chapter Twenty-Two

We floated in time and space as the lights strobed around us in a brilliant multi-coloured net of beams, and music, too loud, too harsh and too fleeting for my mind to decipher any recognisable rhythm, bashed against my ears. Salty sweat and clashing scents—perfumes, aftershaves, deodorants and fruity drinks— rose up on a miasma of body heat that visibly shimmered in the criss-crossed strobe lights. And reverberating through it all, like a beacon call to my blood, was the discordant bass-beat of a thousand hearts pulling me under, a tidal wave of pulses drowning me in the metallic tang of hunger and longing and need, until all that existed was prey...

An expanse of empty floor opened below us: the hot, glowing bodies of the excited humans were being herded by cooler shadows—vampires, their hearts still and quiet, their faces blank and closed—who were putting themselves between me and my prey.

Not that it would save them.

My bare feet touched down on the wooden floor, the arm around my waist loosened and I straightened, breathing in the scent of recently taken blood. The ache in my jaw intensified and I knew I couldn’t be content with a sip this time; the incandescent itch in my veins urged me on. The encircling crowd drew away as I stalked towards the nearest rosy-hued humans, the anxious, high-pitched laughs and frantic pulse-beats almost lost beneath the heavy beat of the body-vibrating music. I reached out with my mind, intent on locking them in place, not bothering with my usual cat-and-mouse; just needing to devour. The nearest was young. He grinned nervously at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. My gaze snagged on the pulse jumping under his jaw and I snarled, lips curling back from my fangs. His eyes widened, pupils dilating in sudden fear, then my mind closed like a steel-trap around his, his face blanked with mind-lock and the connection between us quivered like a plucked string. I reached out and grabbed the minds of a dozen glowing bodies around him, anchoring them to my will, holding them ready: easy prey.

Anticipation tightened my body and my nipples stiffened against the unyielding metal of the bikini and slick heat contracting between my legs—but this wasn’t about sex; sex was being held down, beaten and broken, unable to stop them, no matter how much I begged—

I pushed the intrusive thoughts away and growled low in my throat, a satisfying animal sound. Now it was my turn to rip and tear and damage and offer pain, again and again, and my turn to laugh as they pleaded and cried and screamed as I penetrated their weak, fragile bodies. The visceral desire for blood spiralled through my body. I crouched, preparing to leap, spreading my fingers, watching as my nails elongated and sharpened into skin-slicing claws—

The metal collar choked into my throat, jerked me back, keeping me from my prey. I whirled round, screeching with rage to face him.

‘No!’ Malik ordered. ‘You will not do this.’ He yanked the chain up, the links stretched taut between us, then jerked again, pulling me forward until I stumbled and fell to my knees before him. His face expressionless, he held out his hand to me.

I slashed at it, drawing blood, then grabbed at the chain with both hands and tried to wrench it from his hold. He would not stop me, not this time.

His arms and shoulders strained with effort as he held me in place.

I called to the humans caught with my mind and heard the collective gasp as they moved up at my back. Then his mind tore into mine and severed them from my hold, locking my rage inside his icy stillness.

The pounding music cut out, leaving silence. Then a rustling murmur started as three spotlights picked us out, pinning us within their overlapping circles. Far away, a voice in my mind—his, mine, someone’s—muttered, ‘Showtime.’

Elizabetta, wearing her youthful face, appeared at Malik’s side, her bronze broadsword resting on her shoulder like a pike-staff. ‘You would not believe me when I said she was feral, Malik al-Khan.’ Her words amplified outwards as if through a megaphone. ‘Now you can witness for yourself that your curse has again manifested in your bloodline.’

‘This is due to your meddling, Elizabetta,’ Malik responded. ‘She is contaminated by a demon—even your carefully nurtured blood would turn feral with such encouragement.’

‘Pah!’ Her dress shifted, the beads clattering triumphantly, and inwardly I shredded the sneering smile from her face. ‘It makes no matter why she is like this; she must be dealt with before she causes more disquiet.’ She held out her sword and placed the point at the base of my throat. ‘Shall I dispose of the bitch myself ’—her fangs extended over her bottom lip—‘or would you like to do the honours?’

‘No,’ Malik said quietly, his eyes flaring blue. He reached out and took the sword from her unresisting hand. ‘No, she is mine. It is my responsibility to rescind her Gift.’

I snarled, even though the part of me not wanting to rip his throat out knew he didn’t mean it, knew it was some sort of ruse, knew he wouldn’t kill me—the Rosa me—because then we would both die ... wouldn’t we? Looking up into his face, seeing his implacable expression, I wasn’t quite so certain. But I was still locked by his will; I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight.

Inside me, the imps boiled and burned, impatient, intolerant of their inability to force me to violence.

‘But first, she will bow to my hand.’ He let the chain drop from his grasp and it fell to the floor in a rattle of links.

‘Nooo!’ Elizabetta lifted her foot and lowered it slowly back to the floor, a stamp made slow by his hold on