and had learned bled into her mind over the days she lay dying in her dark apartment by the bay. Then one night her heart stopped, but her eyes opened. The hunger came, and with her first feeding came the knowledge that she’d never see daylight again.
Everything he’d owned, she inherited, even at times the way his words threaded through her mind and changed her normal patterns of speech. She now owned his made men, too. But in the vampire world that also meant that she owned the late Dimitri Andropov’s problems as well, namely those who had wanted to wrest power from him for a long time. And that meant a nightly vigil against those who wanted to take her down and not knowing whom to trust … not that living that way was any different than her human life had been. But still. The constant paranoia was wearing and she was new to the vampire way of life.
In the vampire world, to the victor go the spoils. This was not the legacy she’d wanted. And for all its opulent, everlasting glory, when the time came for her assassination, all that she ever was would turn into a smoking pile of embers, her memories and knowing suddenly owned by her killer. But for the moment, membership did have its privileges.
Now she understood her kind’s fascination with history and building monuments. She understood why they were so erudite in the arts. For beings that lived for an eternity, knowing that they would disappear from the annals of time by a simple assassination had to be maddening. To be both timeless yet ephemeral, therein lay the paradox.
Tanya glanced back at the small silver digital recorder and then up at the moon. She had to get out of here. Dinner and danger were on the streets.
“Pyotr, do not grow arrogant and lose your life for it. Dimitri was a centuries-old vampire and lost his life to a mere mortal.”
“My friend, your words bring comfort that you have my best interest at heart, but this human
Pyotr stopped walking and leaned against a tree in Central Park for a moment, taking his time to light a cigarette and slowly exhale the smoke. “Do we yet know how many are still loyal to their bond to Dimitri?” When Vikenti didn’t immediately answer, Pyotr stared at his ancient friend. “Just as I thought. There is no way yet to know.”
“What is to know is that she walks this path every night, and for every night that we wait, she grows stronger. For every night that we linger in worry, another may beat us to our objective and claim his victory—then we would have to assassinate him. Not such an easy task.”
“But we do not yet know of her numbers, those that stand with her.”
“How many of Dimitri’s loyalists will stand to be told they cannot procreate? What leader of a coven from the old world would have such an edict that no more of our kind could be made?”
Vikenti spat on the ground, his dark eyes narrowed with disgust. “Who will now change the way they once fed freely to accept her preposterous notions of drinking only from the wicked—no longer tasting the pure innocent? Ha? You have no answers.”
Feeling victory in his grasp, Vikenti watched his friend take a particularly long drag off his cigarette before he pressed on. “And now she organizes them in vigilante squadrons to help humans. Dimitri’s made men must spend their nights in service to their food? Where is the honor in that? It is madness—no, it is weakness. Her connection still to the human condition is an opportunity. But we must be quick, my friend, for her ranks will attempt a coup. Of this I am certain. It is rumored that they are already assassinating each other for the chance to be the first to go against her while she is still new.”
“You know this rumor must be false or there is some element of this story we do not know. Her own made or those she inherited from Dimitri cannot kill her.”
“But they can align with others not of her line and give them critical details to make it easy for them to assassinate her … so says our master, Aleksei. He was giving us a hint, giving us a clue to increase his territory without his hands getting dirty on this.”
Pyotr pushed himself away from the tree he’d been leaning on. “And there are two of us. This inheritance of Dimitri Andropov can go to only one.”
Vikenti smiled, allowing a bit of fang to show. “Then, my friend, I suggest you hurry at the task. May the best man win.”
Winter wind cut at her face, but she didn’t hunch against the cold. Leather coat wide open, she allowed it to billow out behind her, enjoying the sting of feeling halfway alive. Frigid temperatures bit into her arms and torso, ignoring her black sweater, and then wrapped around her black leather pants and boots, chilling her legs. The cold evening air was obviously in no mood for compromise tonight; but then again, neither was she.
Tanya watched dispassionately as humans bundled up against the elements walked quickly and kept their heads down. Cattle. The thrum of their heartbeats and blood was intoxicating, but she had to show restraint as she scanned dull minds when she passed warm bodies. The homeless had committed no crime beyond being poor and mentally ill. To her way of thinking, to feed on them and then kill them would be unjust. They’d already gotten the shit end of life. Same with the working girls on the streets, she thought as she passed a group of shivering prostitutes. Someone was already kicking their asses; someone was already sucking the lifeblood out of them, be it a pimp or their drug dealer or the johns that kept the trade going.
No. Her goal was the bastards that created the conditions. She wanted the men like Bernie Madoff, and bankers, and politicians, and corporate moguls who stole from the poor to give to the rich. Her best feeding grounds were on Wall Street or in the high-rent districts. They also ate a better grade of food and drank top-shelf liquors and wines. Their blood was all the richer for it.
Tanya crossed through the park to save time. Maybe she’d dine in Greenwich, Connecticut, tonight, or even scour SoHo. Tonight was going to be different. No more petty thieves and thugs. The cops could handle them. She’d go after the ones that had enough resources to buy their way out of prosecution. Yeah … it was time to upgrade. But a presence behind her gave her pause.
A tall, lanky man stepped out from behind a tree before her, smoking a cigarette. Although her focus was on him, she could feel a silent but deadly hulking form behind her. Instinct told her they were both vampires. Their feel told her immediately that they’d never belonged to Dimitri. They were enemies.
Seconds clicked by. No words were exchanged. The air around her suddenly became too still. She could feel the one behind her go airborne. She could smell the freshly broken wood he grasped in his sweaty palm.
Tanya went down on one knee as the assassin hurtled over her. She came up with two steel blades in her hands and caught him in the back. But the puncture wounds missed his heart entirely. The second one was on the move, charging her, as the first one pivoted with a snarl and came at her again.
Using the tree for leverage, she ran up one side of it, flipped over them, and caught the lean one in the center of his chest. The huge, burly one hissed his fury as his friend went down on one knee.
“Get up, Pyotr!” he yelled as he got out of Tanya’s kill range. “Feed and it will all be better. Don’t allow this human sympathizer to squander your existence!”
Before she could blink, the stake the thick-muscled nemesis had been holding whizzed toward her like a missile, but she sidestepped it and caught it in a firm grip, and then quickly relay-flung it into the chest of the vampire that was slowly standing up. An explosive plume of embers lit the night around her. Now the odds were even.
She watched the huge vampire before her give his friend’s passing a moment of thought before he launched at her with visceral rage.
Taking him at hand-to-hand combat was out of the question. He seemed almost as ancient as Dimitri had been. But the question was, did he own anything close to Dimitri’s old power? Only seconds would provide an answer. Tanya held up her hands in front of her and sent a black charge of dark energy out from them. The Russian hit it like he’d slammed into a brick wall. She jumped back, winded and feeling slower. The felled vampire looked up at her, eyes completely black as he scrambled to his feet to attack again, but then suddenly burst into flames as his head fell away from his body.
Tanya jumped back and snarled. A presence stepped out of the smoke and calmly tucked a large bone knife into his brown leather jacket.
