Eternal Kiss of Darkness A Night Huntress Novel 6 Night Huntress World 2 - Jeaniene Frost, ebook
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Dedication
For my beloved nieces and nephews
the closest IÓll come to children of my own.
Wesley, Lauren, Patrick, Michael,
Matthew, Christopher, and Amy.
May all of you find your own happily-ever-afters.
Chapter 1
Mencheres smelled blood even before he caught the earthy scent of ghouls clustered on
the ground floor of the decrepit warehouse. They showed no concern when he walked
inside. Another inhalation revealed it was vampire blood two of them stank of. The other
four didnÓt have that coppery aroma clinging to them, but from the predatory gazes they
leveled on Mencheres, they intended to rectify that.
ÐA young vampire went missing from this area recently,Ñ Mencheres said by way of
greeting, ignoring the way the ghouls began to circle around him. They looked to be in
their late teens, and from the energy in their auras, they were teens in undead years as
well. ÐShort blond hair, tribal tattoos on his upper arms, silver piercing in his eyebrow.
Goes by the name Trick,Ñ he went on. ÐHave you seen him?Ñ
ÐNot smart to be out so close to dawn, vampire,Ñ the ghoul with the heaviest scent of
blood drawled without answering MencheresÓs question. Then the ghoul smiled, showing
heÓd filed all his teeth to points.
Instead of inspiring fear, the sight annoyed Mencheres. These ghouls thought they had
the advantage because of the impending dawn, but dawn would only sap the strength of a
new vampire. Even with his power level cloaked to where it would feel like he was only a
young vampire, if the ghouls were wise, theyÓd wonder at MencheresÓs lack of hesitation
in confronting them.
Then again, if they were wise, they wouldnÓt have killed Trick in the same area they used
as a home. It had only taken Mencheres an hour to track them down. Such stupidity
wasnÓt only blatant disregard for vampire and ghoul law; it also endangered the secrecy
of both their races. In another mood, Mencheres would have killed the shark-toothed
ghoul without further conversation, then rounded up the remaining five for public
punishment later. After all, Mencheres didnÓt require their confession to know theyÓd
killed Trick. Not with the scent of vampire blood on them.
The ghouls were lucky, because today, he wasnÓt looking for retribution over TrickÓs
murder. Perhaps it was a good thing heÓd lost his visions of the future, Mencheres
reflected. Otherwise, if heÓd foreseen that
this
was how heÓd end his eons-old feud with
the corrupt Law Guardian, Radjedef, heÓd question his own sanity.
But if he hadnÓt lost his visions, none of this would be necessary. Anger flashed in him.
After four thousand years of seeing glimpses of the future, to suddenly have his visions
gone was as crippling as it was unexpected. HeÓd long lamented the frustration of having
visions that some people paid no heed to; but now that they were gone, for all his other
powers, he couldnÓt protect those he cared for. A friendÓs recent, accusing words rang in
MencheresÓs mind.
Why now
,
when I need you the most
,
are you of no use to me?
Radjedef might have hated Mencheres for millennia, but he was too clever to come after
a foe who could counter most hostile moves before they were even made. Now that
MencheresÓs visions were gone, this was RadjedefÓs best chance. As both men knew,
Radjedef wouldnÓt hesitate to use his considerable power as a Law Guardian to
manufacture charges against Mencheres for crimes that had never taken place. Radjedef
was no stranger to bending the law to suit his own purposes. It was something heÓd done
even before he had become a member of the powerful vampire ruling council.
His old enemy might relish the upcoming confrontation and all the bloody collateral
damage it would doubtless involve before one of them emerged a victor, but Mencheres
would end this before it started. It rather pleased him to imagine the frustration Radjedef
would feel at being denied the opportunity to implement his elaborate plans for
vengeance.
So when the six ghouls pulled out their silver knives, smiling in that cruel, anticipatory
way, Mencheres simply stood there. This would get bloody, but he was no stranger to
blood. Or to pain. Both had been his companions for far longer than these ghouls could
even imagine.
He cast one look at the predawn sky, wondering briefly if the sun shone in the afterlife.
Before the sun was high, either he or the ghouls would find out.
Kira walked down Ashland Avenue, the second-to-last street before hers. A sudden
breeze blew her hair into her eyes. They didnÓt call Chicago the Windy City for nothing.
She pushed stray pieces back behind her ears and shifted her heavy backpack onto her
other shoulder. After all the times sheÓd toted her backpack to and from work, Kira would
have thought it wouldnÓt feel as heavy as it did. Still, she was lucky her boss allowed her
to use the company car on stakeouts, and besides, many people who lived and worked in
the West Loop didnÓt own cars. They just didnÓt have to carry around the various
cameras, camcorders, binoculars, and other necessary stakeout items that she did.
At least it had been a productive night. Her surveillance of her clientÓs cheating wife
finally paid off in the version of several incriminating photos that Kira dropped off at her
office before sheÓd taken the Green Line back to her neighborhood. She could sleep in as
late as she wanted to today, and even her exacting boss wouldnÓt have a thing to say
about it.
Being a private investigator meant tuning in to her surroundings, which came naturally to
Kira, but her focus sharpened even more when she rounded the next corner. Walking this
particular stretch of road during the daylight was fine, but now, it made her uneasy. She
was glad the sun had started to peek out. The line of dilapidated warehouses were
supposed to be gone by now, but the lingering recession had slowed their razing and
rebuilding. The stretch of unsightly buildings meant the rent in her building farther up the
block was much lower than it would be once shiny new apartments replaced the graffiti-
laced, abandoned units, but it also meant that she had to be watchful now. Muggings
werenÓt uncommon in this area.
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Dedication
For my beloved nieces and nephews
the closest IÓll come to children of my own.
Wesley, Lauren, Patrick, Michael,
Matthew, Christopher, and Amy.
May all of you find your own happily-ever-afters.
Chapter 1
Mencheres smelled blood even before he caught the earthy scent of ghouls clustered on
the ground floor of the decrepit warehouse. They showed no concern when he walked
inside. Another inhalation revealed it was vampire blood two of them stank of. The other
four didnÓt have that coppery aroma clinging to them, but from the predatory gazes they
leveled on Mencheres, they intended to rectify that.
ÐA young vampire went missing from this area recently,Ñ Mencheres said by way of
greeting, ignoring the way the ghouls began to circle around him. They looked to be in
their late teens, and from the energy in their auras, they were teens in undead years as
well. ÐShort blond hair, tribal tattoos on his upper arms, silver piercing in his eyebrow.
Goes by the name Trick,Ñ he went on. ÐHave you seen him?Ñ
ÐNot smart to be out so close to dawn, vampire,Ñ the ghoul with the heaviest scent of
blood drawled without answering MencheresÓs question. Then the ghoul smiled, showing
heÓd filed all his teeth to points.
Instead of inspiring fear, the sight annoyed Mencheres. These ghouls thought they had
the advantage because of the impending dawn, but dawn would only sap the strength of a
new vampire. Even with his power level cloaked to where it would feel like he was only a
young vampire, if the ghouls were wise, theyÓd wonder at MencheresÓs lack of hesitation
in confronting them.
Then again, if they were wise, they wouldnÓt have killed Trick in the same area they used
as a home. It had only taken Mencheres an hour to track them down. Such stupidity
wasnÓt only blatant disregard for vampire and ghoul law; it also endangered the secrecy
of both their races. In another mood, Mencheres would have killed the shark-toothed
ghoul without further conversation, then rounded up the remaining five for public
punishment later. After all, Mencheres didnÓt require their confession to know theyÓd
killed Trick. Not with the scent of vampire blood on them.
The ghouls were lucky, because today, he wasnÓt looking for retribution over TrickÓs
murder. Perhaps it was a good thing heÓd lost his visions of the future, Mencheres
reflected. Otherwise, if heÓd foreseen that
this
was how heÓd end his eons-old feud with
the corrupt Law Guardian, Radjedef, heÓd question his own sanity.
But if he hadnÓt lost his visions, none of this would be necessary. Anger flashed in him.
After four thousand years of seeing glimpses of the future, to suddenly have his visions
gone was as crippling as it was unexpected. HeÓd long lamented the frustration of having
visions that some people paid no heed to; but now that they were gone, for all his other
powers, he couldnÓt protect those he cared for. A friendÓs recent, accusing words rang in
MencheresÓs mind.
Why now
,
when I need you the most
,
are you of no use to me?
Radjedef might have hated Mencheres for millennia, but he was too clever to come after
a foe who could counter most hostile moves before they were even made. Now that
MencheresÓs visions were gone, this was RadjedefÓs best chance. As both men knew,
Radjedef wouldnÓt hesitate to use his considerable power as a Law Guardian to
manufacture charges against Mencheres for crimes that had never taken place. Radjedef
was no stranger to bending the law to suit his own purposes. It was something heÓd done
even before he had become a member of the powerful vampire ruling council.
His old enemy might relish the upcoming confrontation and all the bloody collateral
damage it would doubtless involve before one of them emerged a victor, but Mencheres
would end this before it started. It rather pleased him to imagine the frustration Radjedef
would feel at being denied the opportunity to implement his elaborate plans for
vengeance.
So when the six ghouls pulled out their silver knives, smiling in that cruel, anticipatory
way, Mencheres simply stood there. This would get bloody, but he was no stranger to
blood. Or to pain. Both had been his companions for far longer than these ghouls could
even imagine.
He cast one look at the predawn sky, wondering briefly if the sun shone in the afterlife.
Before the sun was high, either he or the ghouls would find out.
Kira walked down Ashland Avenue, the second-to-last street before hers. A sudden
breeze blew her hair into her eyes. They didnÓt call Chicago the Windy City for nothing.
She pushed stray pieces back behind her ears and shifted her heavy backpack onto her
other shoulder. After all the times sheÓd toted her backpack to and from work, Kira would
have thought it wouldnÓt feel as heavy as it did. Still, she was lucky her boss allowed her
to use the company car on stakeouts, and besides, many people who lived and worked in
the West Loop didnÓt own cars. They just didnÓt have to carry around the various
cameras, camcorders, binoculars, and other necessary stakeout items that she did.
At least it had been a productive night. Her surveillance of her clientÓs cheating wife
finally paid off in the version of several incriminating photos that Kira dropped off at her
office before sheÓd taken the Green Line back to her neighborhood. She could sleep in as
late as she wanted to today, and even her exacting boss wouldnÓt have a thing to say
about it.
Being a private investigator meant tuning in to her surroundings, which came naturally to
Kira, but her focus sharpened even more when she rounded the next corner. Walking this
particular stretch of road during the daylight was fine, but now, it made her uneasy. She
was glad the sun had started to peek out. The line of dilapidated warehouses were
supposed to be gone by now, but the lingering recession had slowed their razing and
rebuilding. The stretch of unsightly buildings meant the rent in her building farther up the
block was much lower than it would be once shiny new apartments replaced the graffiti-
laced, abandoned units, but it also meant that she had to be watchful now. Muggings
werenÓt uncommon in this area.
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