Colin O’Shea slid into the driver’s seat of the black armored vehicle, much as he’d done in fire engines prior to his turning. Travis Wright took shotgun as he always did, a victim of motion sickness if he rode in the back despite being immortal. Campbell climbed into the back with Sophia Tanis, Kaja Belyakova, Len McBride and Billy McGoin.
“Where to?” Colin asked as he put the truck in gear.
“Head down to the Financial District. We got a tip that the black market has gotten more active in that area,” Campbell said.
“Imagine that, bloodsuckers on Wall Street,” Len said as he adjusted the sharp stakes and blessed handcuffs at his waist.
Travis, a former stockbroker, flipped him the bird from the front, drawing a deep laugh from Len.
Colin left their underground garage near Central Park and headed toward their first destination of the evening. No matter how long he’d been a member of the undead, Campbell still chafed at being able to move about freely only at night. Although the idea of going up in a sizzling ball of flame didn’t hold a whole lot of appeal either.
As they moved down Broadway, Campbell eyed the vamps lined up outside the Times Square blood bank, one of several scattered throughout the city. It was here that humans gave blood during the day to feed the hungry vampires at night. It gave them a false sense that they were making the night marginally safer for humanity, though most of them weren’t stupid enough to test it. But no matter how much they gave from their veins, the night was lost to them. He doubted they’d ever be able to reclaim it, even after generations of births helped to repopulate the planet. For now, too few humans meant too many hungry vampires.
That was the real reason the blood banks had been established—to curtail panic in the vampire community and protect the remaining food supply.
He swallowed against his own mounting thirst. He’d gone to the blood bank the night before, but as usual the AB-negative was in short supply. He’d given his allowance to a young vampire who’d been already cramping over from thirst. She’d broken his heart when he’d seen her, not more than fifteen at her turning. Her human life had been taken before it had even really started.
As their truck rolled by the blood bank, Campbell didn’t see or sense anything wrong, but he did catch the eye of a tall beefy vampire who didn’t disguise his hatred of the V Force. No doubt this guy had been a thug in life and had brought his lawbreaking ways and contempt of law enforcement into life after death.
“We have a fan,” Colin said, picking up on the guy’s pissed-off vibe. “I’m guessing he’s not looking forward to the bagged stuff.”
That was nothing new. Even Souled vampires such as his team had to admit fresh blood tasted better. They just weren’t willing to risk tapping into a pumping vein to get it. In addition to the practice now being illegal, they ran the risk of being overtaken by bloodlust and killing someone. And they knew better than anyone what happened to vampires who killed humans. V Force took them out. As odd as it seemed, even immortals could die.
He made a mental note to stop by the bank himself later to see if they’d restocked the AB-negative supply. It’d been seven days since he’d fed, and that was the max before a vampire tipped over into the danger zone. Just another of the odd quirks of his species. He shook his head slightly. Even after all the time that had passed since his turning, it was still surreal to think that he’d actually changed species that night. It was like a bad late-night horror movie.
He pushed that thought away and stared out the tinted window. If he didn’t feed tonight, he was going to have to take himself off the work rotation until he could replenish himself. Already he could feel the edginess clawing at him, whispering to him to jump from the vehicle and drain the first human who met his body’s needs. That whisper was going to increase in volume throughout the night until it was screaming at the ravenous animal he’d become.
Campbell hated the double-edged curse of having the rarest blood type before he’d been turned. Since vamps could only feed on humans who had the same blood type the vampire had before being turned, he had fewer sources of sustenance. Campbell and all the other AB-negative vampires were less likely to walk into a blood bank and find an adequate supply of blood, especially after the Bokor die-off culled the human herd. The irony? When he did feed, he experienced a huge rush and came out the other side with greater strength than other vampires.
He noticed Kaja staring out the window with an odd look on her face, almost like longing. That was strange for Kaja, who more than any of them liked being a vampire because it meant she’d never get old or lose her beauty. Well, she didn’t particularly like drinking blood, but she took the bad with the good. He should probably ask her what was bothering her, make sure it wouldn’t impair her ability to do her job, but asking a woman a question like that was a potential minefield. He ended up not having to since she noticed him staring.
“You ever go see a show before you were turned?” she asked.
He looked out the window at the darkened marquees and shrugged. “A couple of times, on dates. Wasn’t really my thing. I much preferred a good Yankees game.”
“At least you can still see that.”
“On TV isn’t the same as sitting in the stands drinking beer and eating a giant hot dog.”
“Ugh.”
He laughed at the look of disgust on her flawless face. He very much doubted Kaja Belyakova had ever deigned to eat a hot dog.
“What’s wrong, princess?” Colin asked from the driver’s seat. “Hot dog not on the model diet?”
“Shouldn’t have been on anyone’s diet. Gross.” She shuddered with her normal amount of drama, eliciting laughs from most of the team and an eye roll from Len McBride. He was a former ironworker, and his life experience had been about as far from Kaja’s parade of fashion shoots as a person’s could get.
“You ever been to the Damask?” Sophia asked Kaja, referring to the former Broadway theater vamps had appropriated for their own, the only one to still stage productions at night.
“Once. The acting was terrible, so I never went back. You’d think vampires could put together a decent drama.”
Things outside the truck remained pretty quiet until they passed into Tribeca. Almost as one, they all sensed it. Fear. The air was ripe with pulse-pounding, raw human fear.
* * *
Olivia knew she was in trouble the moment she looked over her shoulder and saw the pale blue eyes in the dark. Her heart rate picked up even more as she launched herself onto another stoop and banged on a final door in a last-ditch effort to save her life. She knocked with one hand while slipping a knife out of her pocket with the other.
“Help me!” She pulled back her fist to bang again, but cold hands latched on to her wrist and pulled her off the steps as if she weighed no more than a string of spaghetti.
“Careful,” one of the vampires hissed. “We need her alive if we hope to get paid.”
Olivia slashed at the vampire holding her, but he was too fast and her knife went flying across the street.
A blinding panic exploded inside Olivia and she struggled in vain to free herself, even knowing her mere human strength was no match for one vampire, let alone two. These vamps weren’t going to feed, didn’t need her type of blood, but she was smart enough to know she was a valuable commodity on the vampire black market. With the cut on her finger, they could smell her blood and thus tell her blood type. She didn’t understand how it worked, but it must be like a human being able to tell the difference between the scent of grilling meat and fresh cookies. Even if she didn’t have exposed blood, it wouldn’t be difficult for a vampire to determine what type of blood she had. All they would have to do is break into a blood bank and access the records then target their victims.
She’d heard the stories about the vampires’ black market. Part of her had wondered if they were true or simply a product of fearful minds. As she stared the possibility of becoming a blood slave in the face, she no longer doubted.
She’d rather be bled dry and left in the street than endure what they no doubt had planned for her. At least
