Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
The words strike like matches against dry tinder. Rage bubbles up inside me—not the cold, controlled anger I’ve cultivated in my career, but something dark and terrible. Something that burns through my veins, ignites my senses, turns my vision crimson at the edges.
“That’s it,” Ezra murmurs, watching closely. “Don’t fight it. Direct it.”
I close my eyes, surrendering to the fury—not drowning in it, but riding it like a wave. Images flash through my mind: Elizabeth Short’s mutilated body, Catherine’s gentle smile before I left for war, Lena’s face as Marco carried her into the night. Each memory stokes the fire higher until I’m consumed by it, transformed by it. Dmitri, laughing through it all.
When I open my eyes again, the world has changed. Colors are sharper, scents more distinct, sounds crystalline in their clarity. I can hear the wingbeats of birds outside, smell the salt in the ocean air, feel the vibration of passing cars on the highway far below.
“Fascinating,” Abe says, studying me with clinical interest. “You’ve achieved partial transformation without losing awareness. Remarkable control for one so young.”
I glance at my reflection in a remaining shard of window glass. My eyes glow crimson, fangs fully extended, features sharper and more predatory. Yet my mind remains clear, focused, determined. This isn’t the mindless bloodlust I feared—it’s power, raw and untamed but still mine to command.
“Now, before you begin tracking,” Abe continues, uncorking the vial, “this will help prevent Dmitri from seizing control when we find him. It won’t negate the blood bond entirely, but it should create enough interference to give you freedom of choice.”
He draws a symbol on my forehead with the liquid, which burns cold against my skin, then places three drops under my tongue. The taste is bitter, reminiscent of dirt and pepper.
“Remember,” Ezra adds. “You are not Dmitri’s slave. Blood heritage is powerful, but free will is stronger. Keep that truth at your core, no matter what happens.”
“Now,” Abe commands, “find Lena.”
“How?”
“Ask yourself and you’ll know how.”
I take in a deep breath and close my eyes, focusing on her. Not just her scent or the memory of her face, but the essence of her—the connection we’ve forged through blood and body and something deeper. Something that defies rational explanation, leaving only a supernatural one.
And there it is—a tug in my chest, subtle but undeniable. A compass needle pointing toward true north.
“I can feel her,” I whisper, surprised by the gravelly quality of my voice in this half-transformed state. “She’s alive. In pain, but alive.”
“Where?” Adonis asks, already moving toward the door.
I turn, following the invisible thread that binds me to Lena. “Northeast. Downtown, I think. Industrial district.”
“Let’s go,” Valtu says, grabbing a leather jacket from the back of a chair. “Adonis drives. Callahan navigates.”
We pile into Abe’s Packard—Adonis behind the wheel, Valtu riding shotgun, Abe, Ezra and me in the back. They place me in the middle, for safety’s sake, just in case I lose control and try and jump out of the vehicle. As the car roars to life, I focus on that tenuous connection between Lena and I, letting it grow stronger, clearer.
“Take Sunset,” I instruct, leaning forward between the front seats. “Then north on Figueroa.”
Adonis nods, pulling onto the highway with precise control, accelerating until the speedometer climbs past ninety.
“I just need to ask,” says Abe from beside me. “How much of your vampire self are you aware of? How much is Callahan right now?”
“Both. Neither,” I reply, the contradiction making perfect sense to me now. “The division is fading. I can feel the vampire’s hunger, its need for blood and violence, but it doesn’t control me. It’s just…part of me.”
“Remarkable,” he murmurs.
“Necessity,” Ezra suggests from my other side. “The mind adapts when survival demands it.”
I barely hear them, focused on the pull growing stronger with each mile. “East now,” I instruct as we reach downtown. “Near the railroad yards.”
Adonis follows my directions without question, navigating through morning traffic with preternatural reflexes. Finally, I feel it—a sharp tug in my chest, almost painful in its intensity. I even smell her now.
Night jasmine.
“Stop here,” I command, and Adonis pulls to the curb three blocks from our destination.
The warehouse rises before us, decrepit and abandoned, windows boarded over, chain-link fence surrounding the perimeter. It looks like dozens of other buildings in this industrial wasteland, forgotten relics of the wartime effort. But my senses tell me different—there’s life inside.
“Two guards at the main entrance,” Valtu observes, his eyes narrowing. “Another on the roof. All vampires.”
“Ivanov’s men,” Ezra confirms. “We’ve seen them at the Crimson Clover.”
I scan the building, my enhanced senses detecting movement, heartbeats, the faint scent of blood. Lena’s blood. The rage I’ve been containing threatens to explode, but I force it down, channeling it into cold purpose.
“We need a plan,” Abe says. “Draw them away from the entrance, then—”