Blood Related

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

Troy Meecham lived by a few essential rules. Number One: Never be alone at night except when you are inside your own home with locked windows and doors. Number Two: Eat garlic with every meal. Number Three: Don’t stay out late, especially with a date. Number Four: Avoid nightclubs at all costs. Number Five: Keep spare bandages on hand. And Number Six: Never forget your cell phone. He rarely ever told anyone this list of rules. Most people would not understand, and those that did really did not need an explanation.

As he was in the middle of his doctorate research, Troy enjoyed the quiet of the library on most days. He officially was studying Pathology and Pharmacology, but those who knew him well knew he was actually researching Medicine within Occult folklore. He wasn’t an occultist or anything, but he did know a thing or two about the supernatural world as an alumnus of Gulinger Private Academy. So he should have known better than to stay alone in the dark recesses of the university library late that night.

But he was on to something—finally. He had been researching natural blood clotting agents and cures for vampire bite, and up until recently, he had no solid leads.

But within the past few weeks he had found an old manuscript within the archived records of medicine. Those in charge of the archives would not let him handle the brittle paper, but they gave him photocopies, which, to be frank, did not do the job. So he had borrowed a spell from his best friend’s new wife (who happened to be a skilled so-called ‘retired’ witch) which allowed him to open doors and break into the archives himself. What those people who maintained the archives did not understand was that touching the manuscript the writing was on itself was vital to the comprehension of the contents. While they were handling it with nitrile gloves, he needed physical contact with fingers to activate writing sealed away through magic.

Of course, those who generally used nitrile gloves did not believe in magic. They were adherents to the philosophy that the material world was all there was and they did not understand that the universe was much vaster than what our five senses could detect.

As Troy poured over the papers, he felt a tickle on the back of his neck. He quickly checked his watch.

A shiver ran down his back. It was late. Extremely late. He should have been home by now. He had just broken rule number one.

“Well, well, well…” said a voice that prickled the back of Troy’s scalp, feeling centuries old while the old bite wounds on his neck and shoulder opened, dripping blood down his neck. “The little child, in his desperation, is not as careful as they thought.”

Troy grabbed up the manuscript, shoving it under the heavy book he was using as a desk top to prop them, dropping both on the near shelf. His collar was now damp with fresh blood from the wound that would never heal. Up above, he heard a rustle. There was more than one of them in there. He pulled out his cell phone and drew up his texts, pressing SEND for one he had always set to alert his best friend, Randon Spade, for emergencies. Ahead of it, he noticed a text recently sent by Randon.

 

*Tom says there’s news about the Order of Blood gathering in New York. Where R U?* 

 

“You can’t run,” the voice above drawled out as Troy ducked through the tall library shelves, pressing the alert key fob Rick Deacon had handed him which was built to notify some more powerful friends to his aid. He just had to get out of the library before those vampires reached him. His bag had garlic, but he had left it near the door. He had not expected to need it indoors.

More rustling above, followed by a few books which toppled down on him as if kicked followed him. He just had to get to the garlic. 

“Come on son,” said another voice. “It is time you joined the family.”

“Damn you!” Troy shouted ceiling-ward. “Why can’t you leave me alone?” He dashed into a break between the rows, zigging toward the library stairs. He had to get out of the basement and to the upper floor.

“Is that the proper way for a son to speak to his father?” that second voice called down.

Troy cursed under his breath. His damn father was a lousy, no-good philanderer; a scum of the earth, selfish man, who cheated on his mother… and had the audacity to manipulate her into vampirism after he had embraced that bloody lifestyle himself. Before his father cheated, they had had a normal life. Before his scumbag father cheated, they were a happy New York working-class family for pity’s sake. And his father ruined it all.

“You bit me, you bloody monster!” Troy snapped skyward. “Parents are supposed to protect their children!”

He then dashed for the stairs, grabbing two heavy books on the way. He was halfway up the steps when those two vampires rushed after him, faster than on wings. Luckily for Troy, he knew how to dodge and had long been experienced in dealing with speedy supernatural beings. One of his Gulinger friends was a half-imp for pity’s sake. Nothing was faster than a half-imp except for an imp, not even a vampire. He clocked one vampire with one book, knocking him back. He kicked his father in the groin, slamming the other book in his face.

He got up to the main floor, hurdling over the stair railing. Troy rushed toward the main doors. But three other vampires came down on him, seizing him to tear him apart.

Their sharp fingernails dug in. It was over.

From the basement, that one vampire and his father joined them. But for some crazy reason none of them bit in for blood. Then again, Troy had eaten a calzone for dinner and his blood had to be reeking with garlic, the aversion to which was perhaps one of the only true things about vampires which the movies got right. They were still going to kill him, though.

His father, whom he had not seen since he was twelve, looked so changed from the former night guard he had once been. He had same physique, strong but lean, yet his dark hair seemed darker, his cheeks more gaunt and angular. His blue eyes had long taken on a hungry intensity. And he was pale from lack of sunlight. Troy at one point before this transformation would have been described as a chip off the old block, but now? His father looked like death and he, Troy, was the live version. Troy had expected his father to advance on him with a gloating look, but his father’s reddening irises tracked to the other vampires checking his actions as if he were the one under condemnation and not his son. “Troy, you have been a bad boy.”

Troy strained against the grips of those who were admittedly much stronger than he was. But vampirism did that to a person. It was a condition of their lifestyle and curse. He was the weak mortal who could walk in daylight. They were powerful immortals who could not abide natural light at all.

“Now, you are going to be a good boy from now on,” his father said, his voice rippling with seductive magic—a skill Troy had discovered from all his research was actually learned from among vampires and not naturally connected to being a blood-sucking demon itself. Apparently his father had delved deeper into the vampire society to get that ability. It was like vampiric flight and animal transformation—vampire magic of the most dangerous kind. Getting closer to him, his father said, “You will come with us. And if you fail to prove worthy, the Order of Blood will tear both you and me apart.”

Blinking at him, Troy stared. “You are just doing this to save your own butt? Aren’t you?”

Snorting erupted from three of the vampires.

“He nailed you,” one said as they dragged Troy to the outer doors.

There was no way to escape. But since they did not tear him apart yet, that meant there was possibility for it in the future. The question was, why hadn’t they?

“Where are you taking me?” Troy demanded, as they hauled him out. The sky was clear and the stars were visible. The little hamlet’s light pollution had not blocked them all out. Troy half expected them to take him to the roof where vampires could congregate in mass, but they just dragged him across the campus lawn toward the curb where another vampire stood next to a van.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Troy murmured. “I thought vampires flew places.”

“Not all vampires can fly, kid,” one said with a snort, glancing to Troy’s father. Apparently he hadn’t gotten that deep into the magic after all.

Two went ahead and opened the van’s doors while the other heaved Troy in, shoving him into a seat.

“Driving is faster,” his father retorted.

“Especially while carrying dead weight,” his more ancient partner said with a derisive nod at Troy. The vampire looked like he had not changed clothes since the seventeenth century. He smelled old—like dusty cloth. The others had varying peculiar and repugnant odors about them which assaulted Troy’s nose when they were in closer quarters without flowing air.

The moment the doors shut, their driver started off into the road.

“Where are you taking me?” Troy asked. He was pressed on one side by a stinky perfumed guy dressed in black leather with a look of someone trying to mix the style of Legolas and Fabio who was shirtless under his leather jacket. On his other side was this chunkier man with a comb-over who reminded him a lot of that short weaselly guy on that old TV show Seinfeld. He smelled of boiled cabbage for some reason.

“You gave us quite a hunt,” his father said, not exactly answering. “I thought you were now living in New York City. All evidence pointed to an apartment there. You had properties in your name there. It had been assumed that you had graduated college.”

Troy smothered a smirk, enjoying this news as it proved that Silvia—his best friend’s newlywed wife—was genuine when she had offered to help him create a decoy. It had certainly worked.

“You have made deals with witches,” his father ground out. “Which is unacceptable.”

The other vampires grumbled in agreement.

“But your association with a werewolf is your gravest offense,” his father said.

‘Oh,’ thought Troy. ‘Rick.’ Of course he had associated with a werewolf. That werewolf had saved his life on a number of occasions. He kind of owed him, something he resented at times when he thought about it, but that was life.

“You are under condemnation by the high Order of Blood,” his father said. “You—”

“I am not a bloody vampire!” Troy shouted out, straining in his seat. “And I don’t want to be a vampire! I am not part of this Order of Blood and I don’t want to be!”

“Silence!” his father shouted, slapping Troy across the head. “You are my child! My responsibility! And you have brought us to the attention of the Holy Seven through that werewolf!”

Troy doubted that, clutching where he had been struck. He had heard other stories through Randon, Rick, and Tom Brown that the Holy Seven knew about the Order of Blood through some west coast demon who was aiding them. Troy had not even met members of the Seven, unlike his other friends.

As they left the New York hamlet where Troy had been studying medicine, he noticed the key fob light continue to flash in his pocket. The light, for some reason, did not catch the attention of the vampires. He was not sure why. But they did take his cell phone, checking over his outgoing texts.

“Who did you alert?” One held it up. “Who is this?”

“My cat,” Troy said with a smirk.

They scrolled through the other texts. There was one from Tom Brown, similar message. Same night. Troy had not seen either as he always kept his ringer off. He hated the sound of the cell phone constantly interrupting him with demands to be picked up. And the teachers did not appreciate them going off in class. Besides, there were certain places phones were simply not allowed. And the library was one of those places that insisted on the phones at least being put on vibrate.

One of the vampires threw his phone out the window.

“Hey!” Troy reached out to stop it, but the phone was already gone.

“They can be tracked,” that one said, but not to him.

Troy elbowed him in the gut, causing some pain to his captor but not enough to free himself.

They went on to New Yok City. It was a few hours, hours which Troy admittedly had a difficult time keeping his eyes open. The vampires were wide awake, of course, holding him close in case he attempted to make a break for it—especially when the car came to a halt at lights or slowed down. When they went into the city off the freeway, Troy could feel they were coming close to his end.

He had a lot of time on this journey to think about it. They were either going to all ravage him somewhere together—possibly also destroy his father though he doubted it—or they were going to find some way to force him to become a vampire.

Generally speaking, the latter was impossible. Vampirism was a life choice. Bites did not make a person a vampire, no matter how much Hollywood had been selling the idea. Their bites only made a person an eternal victim. Vampires became vampires through drinking a vampire’s blood, which was toxic. They were inducted into their society by either a vampire sharing their own blood, or by a vampire group collectively offering their blood to be drunk by the inductee. Fact was, Interview with a Vampire was closer to the truth, though it still was wrong. Troy had read it one day just for amusement. He pondered on it now, wondering if Ann Rice had actually known a few vampires.

Thing was, real vampires were not beautiful creatures. Not those smelly ones near him. Not any he had ever met—including his parents. They were corrupted people. Demons. Some could be sexy—but none were beautiful. Beauty, true beauty and not that superficial stuff, came from goodness. And they were intent on leading him to that same destruction.

So he had a choice. He, of course, would still try to escape. But most likely he would be overwhelmed by the Order of Blood and killed. Death was basically imminent.

Troy sighed, wondering if his life could be described as good. His childhood had been ok, up until his father ruined everything. But even then, he had escape with his life to end up at Gulinger High. And though he had an eternally bleeding neck from their bites, he had managed to grow up, go to college, and he had planned to help those who were suffering with vampire bites the same as him. That life could be described as kind of good. He had friends, for pity’s sake. And yes, some of them were werewolves, half-imps, and a witch’s familiar. That certainly wasn’t a bad thing. But as death was imminent….

But you might not die, said a notion in his head which he had been shoving away from his thoughts for years since Carlos Mendez predicted his fate. Carlos could be right. You’ll become a vampire.

However, he closed his eyes, telling himself that Carlos did not have the ability to see everyone’s future. He could not predict Rick’s fate. And he had said Tom would die blind—yet of old age. Tom had yet to lose his sight, though he had been preparing for the event in any case. Carlos could be wrong about him also.

But Carlos was right about the guardian angel with black wings who saved Matthew Calamori, said the nagging thought in his head. However Troy mentally argued that away. The so-called guardian angel was nothing more than a demon who just wasn’t evil. And angels, in the technical sense, were nothing more than messengers. That’s the meaning of the word angel. They could be anyone.

Tom could still lose his sight. He is young yet. Troy’s worries haunted him. Truthfully, Carlos’s prediction had rattled him. It was why rule number two was to eat garlic in every meal. It had not been a habit before then. It was also why he never went out at night. He had been braver before they had met the kid who was nicknamed Muerte—the guy who could predict a person’s death.

They rolled into what felt like a more dangerous neighborhood. The old high line was above them like a relic from a medieval era. And under it in the shadows was a crowd. And as they got closer, Troy could see it was a crowd of vampires, a good number of men, though a few women intermingled with them. It appeared a bit like a costume party of the most peculiar kind.

Shuddering, Troy felt sick.

Bitter Taste

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

Troy retched the moment he stepped out of the vehicle. The vampires with him thought it was a stunt, but it most certainly wasn’t. He felt sick, and he could not keep it in. Terror had seized him. There was no way any of his friends were going to able to find him or get to him in time. No way. He was doomed.

They grabbed Troy and dragged him to the center of the group of bloody hedonists. Almost immediately the vampires in the group hissed and spat on him. Each of them were like surreal pictures out of a history book, though some were better blended with modern era than others. He recognized one of the vampires who eyed him with severe spite. But, Troy noticed his mother was not among them.

“Where is Mom?” Troy looked around.

Some of the vampires laughed. Their voices sent chills along Troy’s skin.

“Your mother,” his father said with a snarl, “left me for some European.”

More laughs came.

Troy huffed. “Well, it wasn’t like you were faithful to her either.”

They shoved him up against a concrete pylon.

Two better-dressed vampires strolled to the forefront of the mob and one spoke. “Troy Devlin Meecham—”

Troy cringed at his full name. He had always hated it.

“—You are hereby charged for heresy—”

“I am not a blinking vampire!” Troy shouted out.

“—against the Order of Blood.” The vampire then eyed him over. “You were invited and vouched for, and you spat upon it.”

“I never asked to be a vampire!” Troy’s face flushed, his heart thundering.

Eyes shifted to his father who looked uneasy. He must have lied to them at some point to save his skin. However, he merely shrugged as he said, “I had been misled to assume our family wanted to be together.”

“You cheated on Mom!” Troy shouted back, chest heaving. “If anybody was breaking up the family, it was you!”

Several other vampires snickered.

“I was giving you an opportunity,” his father said gravely, though he was sweating. It was clear now that he told the Order of Blood one thing when the other had happened. He was definitely covering his butt. “But you chose to associate with a werewolf.”

Troy rolled his eyes. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Do you deny it?” the better-dressed vampire said, his red eyes fixed on Troy’s sweating face.

Looking directly at him, feeling like he was pulling a tiger’s tail, Troy said, “I was taken to safety by the police. The fact that a werewolf owned the place I was taken to was not my fault.”

“Will you denounce your werewolf friend, here and now?” the vampire asked, his voice digging in to Troy’s scalp like nails. The vampire gave off the aura of someone who had literally outlasted the Spanish Inquisition and knew their torture techniques. 

“Will you let me go if I do?” Troy asked, wondering if Rick would even care if he denounced him to a pack of vampires to buy himself some time. It was just words after all, and it wasn’t like he had sworn allegiance to Rick or anything. They were just former classmates. Old friends back in high school, if barely that.

“It will gain you our forgiveness, and you will be allowed to live,” the vampire said.

That phrasing was suspicious. Troy had a feeling that vampire was telling a half-truth. Allowed to live, but as what? Somehow he got the feeling they were not going to let him go.

“Let me get this straight,” Troy said, mentally tugging on that proverbial tiger’s tail more, “If I denounce Rick Deacon who had saved my life numerous times before from the SRA and other vampires, you will spare my life… but as a vampire. Am I right?”

The vampire’s smile spread thinly across his mouth and he nodded.

“And if I don’t want to be a vampire?” Troy asked.

That thin smile stiffened. The vampire said, “Are you rejecting our offer?”

Looking up at the dark underside of the old highway, Troy shook his head. “You know… I vowed to myself that if I could not escape you, then I would choose to die. I could prove Carlos wrong.”

“Who is Carlos?” one of the vampires asked.

“I will NOT denounce my friend,” Troy said louder. “And if you kill me, I will haunt you all until the end eternity.”

The vampires snorted, several chuckling.

“A ghost can do nothing,” one of them murmured though rather crude snorts.

“A ghost can do a great deal!” Troy snapped back. “I know a guy who can see ghosts. A cop. I can wreak more havoc on you as a ghost than as a man connected to a werewolf. I know the supernatural world better than you do, and how it works.”

A tremulous murmur passed through the crowd of vampires. Some incident was being discussed, some horrific, but nearly recent event. Something about ghosts created by unrestrained vampire feeding causing the end of an important colony somewhere in California. Something about a demon vimp whom they should have killed long ago.

“He’s bluffing,” one vampire said.

“Of course he is!” his father shouted. “He’s texted one of his friends on his phone. He’s stalling. He wants a miracle!”

Which was true. But hearing that mockery from his father’s own mouth was the worst. The man had most definitely become a monster.

“So then let us be done with this,” one of the more dignified vampires said. “Verdict?”

One vampire called out from the hungry throng. “We tear him apart. Drain him.”

“He’s eaten garlic,” a different one complained “Can’t you smell it on him?”

They all groaned. The near ones could smell it. The vampiric ability to smell blood was useful in this instance. He was repulsive, and deadly to them if they dared drink his blood.

“I have a better idea,” called out another vampire, approaching them. She had a wicked look in her eyes as she said, “Give him the blood he hates so much. The blood will decide his fate.”

“Hear! Hear!” chimed in two others.

His father blinked and then shrugged with a dirty look at his son. The man was still sweating. It was likely he was still going to be punished in some way.

Other vampires chimed in, agreeing.

They grabbed Troy and restrained him up against the concrete pillar, heaving over a bottle of their own toxic blood. Two of them forced Troy’s mouth open, pulling his lips apart. Their fingernails scratched into his cheeks. Cramming the mouth of the bottle between his teeth, holding his arms down so he could not push it out, two others poured the rank, steaming mix down his throat. It burned on contact, scalding his gums and tongue.

Searing down his throat, they force Troy to swallow as he could not breathe or spit it up with any success—until the entire contents of the bottle went in. He could feel it as it went down, in his throat, all the way down to his chest, then into his stomach where it burned.

His world felt on fire. Their hands let go. Their voices came at him as if from afar. “Escape that, Meecham.”

Troy collapsed to his knees, clutching his throat, coughing up what he could. He had to get it out. He needed to vomit. He crawled on his knees, gagging, struggling to heave it out—but it was hopeless. It had been like drinking hot tar. It stuck to his insides and fused into his blood.

A breathy exhale filled with grief said over his head as he struggled for air, “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t want to be a vampire either.”

Troy lifted his eyes, gazing through his reddening vision at the source of it. Standing over him, almost not touching the ground, was this woman. He would have taken her for one of the vampires as she had black hair and pale skin, yet in a Snow White sort of way—except her eyes were orange like Tom’s, and there were these bullet wounds all over her which were oozing blood. In her hand was an enormous scythe. Death had come to him in the form of a woman.

His heart immediately sped up, booming painfully hard, pressing to escape his ribs like an over-expanding balloon made of glass. It was going to pop.

“This is it!” The collection of vampires around him cheered like sports fanatics—his father among them. “You now must choose! Join us or embrace death.”

Embrace death. That was the plan. Troy looked to the woman who was watching him with increasing pity, which was weird. Why should Death feel sorry for him?

Sweat poured out of his skin, running into rivers down his neck. His midnight black hair stuck to his head as if he had gone swimming. As he continued to stare at the person before him, he realized this was the angel Carlos had spoken of. His description echoed in Troy’s mind. “An angel. A dark angel. With wings of black like Tom’s, but bigger. Orange eyes, really white skin…” And yet he recalled that Carlos said he could not predict if Troy would meet her because he, Troy, would not die. But that was just Carlos’s point of view. He wanted to die. And Troy reached out for his angel so he could go.

However, she stepped back from him, her voice coming into his mind, stroking the back of his scalp. “Hey! Grabby. Don’t be so eager to leave this earth!”

Was this really Death? Choking on the searing blood in his throat, mustering an answer for this bewildering apparition, Troy said, “I’d rather be dead than become a vampire.”

Immediately the vampire crowd groaned. Troy half expected someone to shout at the umpire.

The dark angel above him scowled at them as she if wanted kick in the vampires’ teeth—or rip all their hearts out. She seemed to have a personal distaste for them. The vampires were hissing at Troy, calling him all sorts of foul things. And his father shouted out after a string of crude epithets, “You are a worthless son!”

He was a lousy father.

“That’s your father?” The dark angel pointed at him.

Seriously. What kind of angel was this? Were all angels this chatty? Troy looked around to see if perhaps there had been a mistake. Another grim reaper available maybe? But he said to her, “Yeah. He bit me when I was a kid. Look. Are you a grim reaper or not? I chose to die.”

She gazed at Troy with such condescension that Troy could see that she thought he was an idiot. But then her orange eyes whipped down to the key fob which was still flashing. She pointed at it. “Who gave you that?”

Unable to believe this, Troy held it up and rasped out through the pain, “Are you serious?”

She nodded, looking inclined to take it.

He moaned. Then he groaned as the pain got even worse. It had dug into his gut now. His stomach had to have been destroyed by the blood. He would internally bleed now.

“If someone from the Seven gave you that,” she said, “I don’t think it right that I should let you die. It does not feel like your time.”

Troy collapsed, grabbing his chest. The pain abruptly changed. He could feel all his veins and nerves ripple with heat, starting at his heart.

“Hey!” A human voice called from the street. Troy hoped he had a gun or a wooden stake, as those vampires would most likely make a meal of him.

Almost immediately that dark angel looked to the air reacting to some sort of change in it. She vanished, whipping out like a bolt of lightning. She had left him to live.

Damn that Carlos. He was becoming a vampire. No death. Troy could tell. He could feel it. He had crossed the threshold of death and come out alive. Damn that woman! Why did she do that? Troy internally screamed while the rest of him seared and his body continued to transform into the monster he never wanted to be.

All the vampire heads turned toward the voice. Troy was no longer cognizant of the happenings around him as the pain swallowed him up. But he was certain the man running toward their group had a sword—and it had just burst into flames. Deciding he was hallucinating, Troy closed his eyes. He curled up on the ground, shaking.

The man with the blazing sword charged into the horde of vampires as they shrieked and scattered to get out of his way. He hacked into whomever did not move—but there was no reason for any vampire to stay for the likes of Troy Meecham. Not even his father stayed for his son. The vampires who could fly, did—and they escaped first. Those who had to go on foot ducked into the shadows as fast as they could. But all who could, abandoned their victim. He was done for anyway.

“Troy!” shouted out a voice Troy had hoped to hear and at the same time wished he was far away. Already Troy was starting to hear the beats of the hearts around him. A gentle checking hand rested on his neck, groping for a pulse—then grabbed his wrist.

There were more hearts coming. And Troy could smell their blood. It was fresh, though a few in the group had garlicky blood. pizza smell, really. Troy opened his eyes and gazed up at his too-late rescuers.

“Oh, Damn!” His best friend Randon swore, looking like he hardly had any sleep. His dark blue eyes were ringed with red, his black hair a windswept mess. “They didn’t!”

Troy nodded along the filthy ground, wheezing. “They did.”

He could see Randon’s wife, Silvia standing next to him as guard. Even in the dark she was that haunting gothic beauty with licorice hair. Troy envied them. Not only were they still human, he had envied them when he had heard they had eloped to avoid family problems. They protected each other—the witch’s familiar and the coven-less witch.

Behind them, Troy saw a guy in a striped tee shirt with a rope of garlic and a wooden stake. He looked familiar, though Troy could not place him. The man’s hand was enveloped in a red fire which harmed not him but would be deadly to the vampires he was warding off. He also had a shrunken head dangling from a fob on his belt.

Randon helped Troy sit up.

“Man, you weren’t kidding when you said you two looked like brothers.” The man in the striped tee shirt put out his flaming hand. There were no scorch marks on him. He slung the garlic rope around his neck but kept his distance as he fought with a wooden stake against the vampires who had not gotten away in time and were now on the offensive. “Are you sure you are not related?”

“Is this the time?” the other friend with the flaming sword shouted, slashing at one vampire who had unwisely remained to fight. Two other men ran into the vampire fray from the road, guns in hand. And when they came into the firelight, Troy saw it was his friends Matthew Calamori and Tom Brown. Tom’s pale face was like a ghost, startling several vampires to break off and run. Further back, Troy heard two other hearts in the vicinity. Two other humans were watching.

“Oh no…” Matthew came up to Troy, helping Randon. His brown eyes raked grimly over Troy. “They got to you.”

Tom swore, kicking out at another stray vampire.

Then a cop car pulled up, followed by another vehicle. Out rushed two policemen, one staying near the car while the other ran up with the owner of the second vehicle, who oddly was carrying a red sword which seemed to glow with a similar light to the man with the flaming sword. When they got closer, Troy recognized the dark-haired cop to be Joshua Johnson—whom he and his friends always called JJ. The two extra heartbeats maintained their distance.

The rest of the vampires scattered.

The guy with the flaming sword put out the fire, approaching Randon. “How is he?”

Randon shook his head, pawing over Troy’s body in search for any fresh wounds. Of course there were none. He peered into Troy’s reddening eyes, cringing within. “Somehow… I didn’t think it was possible to force someone to be a vampire.”

“It’s possible,” Silvia said.

The group gathered around them.

Through his pain, Troy could hear one of the far heartbeats speed up then rush towards them. Several heads turned. The sword guy pulled his weapon out again, then stared at the newcomer in shock. “Hanz? How’d you get here?”

“Train.” Hanz, a fair haired Nordic kind of man, walked through the group and crouched down next to Troy, feeling his neck and examining his eyes. The other heartbeat also approached, but slower. Panting as this near man’s blood smelled especially sweet despite the tinges of garlic in it from pizza, Troy resisted the urge to take a bite. His teeth elongated from desire. The man examined Troy’s neck wound while the blood there was finally clotting.

The man who had come in the car after JJ’s police car recognized this newcomer Hanz and tried to pull him back. “You can’t help him, doctor. He’ll just hurt you.”

Doctor? Did they call a doctor for him?

“I’m not afraid,” that young doctor said. “There has to be something we can do.”

“I told you, Red.” The swordsman gave a meaningful look to other swordsman who indeed had red hair. “We don’t know enough about vampirism to assume he is going to have a blood lust,”

But Troy wanted to end this argument. “I can smell all your blood,” he wheezed out, trying to warn them.

The Nordic doctor felt along Troy’s throat. Then he pulled out a flashlight which was on a keychain. Turning it on, he said, “Open your mouth. Say ‘ah’ and let me look at it.”

This was ridiculous. But Troy opened his mouth, though he said, “I can hear your heart as well.” He opened his mouth wider, sticking out his tongue.

Those around him exchanged tense looks.

“Yeah?” The doctor examined the scorched quality of Troy’s throat and mouth, murmuring rather matter-of-factly, “Well, so can my fiancée, and she learned to control it. So can you.”

His fiancée? Troy’s mind went to that dark angel. It could not be a coincidence. “Is your fiancée a winged vampire?”

The doctor nearly dropped his penlight, color draining from his face. “Yes. Have you seen her? Her name is Eve!”

“I don’t know her name,” Troy grumbled, resentment boiling up inside. She had done this to him. She had allowed him to become a vampire. “But she was here just a second ago.”

“What?” That doctor, Hanz, turned his head straight for Tom Brown whom he clearly knew.

Tom averted his gaze at first, but then shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Yeah, she’s here in New York City.”

Hanz popped to his feet. “She’s here in New York?”

It felt as if a fight was about to happen. That Hanz appeared like he could be nothing more than a hidden façade for the god of thunder, Thor. No beard, though he did look like he had not shaved in twenty-four hours. But Tom treated Hanz’s anger like a buddy dealing with simple bad news, nodding to the doctor.

Matthew slapped the back of Tom’s head, shooting him a reproving look.  

Turning around, Tom snapped, “What? You want me to lie to him?”

Moaning, Matthew cringed. To Hanz, as if the more urgent matter was to deal with this man rather than Troy’s hastening vampiric state, Matthew said, “I’m sorry. We would have told you, but she is in a bad way—”

In a bad way? Troy blinked, recalling that dark angel. Bullet wounds. Bleeding. Yes… that would be in a bad way. But she was an angel of death. Isn’t that what they all looked like?

“What do you mean in a bad way?” Hanz shouted at Matthew.

“Let’s get you up and to a car,” Randon whispered into Troy’s ear, helping him stand. 

“You smell like garlic,” Troy hissed, leaning away from his buddy’s breath.

Silvia took up Troy’s other side. “We had pizza at Danny’s house.”

“Who is Danny?” Troy asked. His entire body ached.

“My brother.” Silvia gestured to the first swordsman.

“We were at his house when we got your text,” Randon said. “Can you walk? How do you feel?”

But Troy was distracted by Matthew’s response to Hanz. “She’s not—”

“She’s an angel of death,” Troy shot back, sick of the argument. He was still furious with her.

But Hanz snapped back, “That I know!”

Troy stared more at this man. What kind of person was he?

Hanz glared at Tom who acted inclined to spill the beans on a huge secret. It was in his eyes.

“What happened to her? Where is she?” Hanz demanded. He gave the impression he would summon lightning if he could zap Tom, and anyone else who denied him information, off the face of the earth.

Yet Tom gazed past him to Randon then Troy. He said, “Let’s get you to a hospital.”

Troy rolled his eyes. Like a hospital could help him now.

“The nearest one?” Matthew murmured.

Troy watched Tom peek at Hanz, who was still fuming. Tom said, “Yes.”

That Hanz was about to blow a gasket for being ignored. Apparently even he thought his problem was more important than Troy’s. He was about to shout when his eyes caught on another man—the other one who had been hiding and watching from a distance. Troy did not know him, but several in the group seemed to recognize him. He had come up to Hanz, tugging on his arm to get them to leave.

The guy called Red had paled, murmuring, “Art.”

They guy waved nervously at Red with a weak chuckle. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” Andy asked, trying to pull Art aside.

But then Hanz hooked on Art’s arm and said, “He came here with me.”

“How do you know—?”

“We’re part of the same church,” Hanz said.

“But he’s from Idaho!” Andy protested. “And how did you get here?”

Troy could not believe this. Standing between Randon and Silvia, his body still suffering in transition with aches and burning, everything seemed to go on pause for yet another reunion.

“Airplane, Uber, train, feet.” Hanz looked like he was trying hard not to explode at all of them. He snapped, “I asked you guys to help me find Eve. And you all hid her from me.”

“To be fair,” Silva’s brother Danny raised a hand, “None of the Seven knew she was in New York.”

The Seven? Troy glanced at his key fob which was still flashing. There was a huge number seven on it. Rick had said was a symbol of the group who would come to help him if he ever activated it. Apparently Danny was one of them.

Matthew and Tom tugged on Randon, indicating they go. They headed toward the curb.

Hanz saw them move. He jogged after them. “Hey!”

“You can follow us,” Matthew said with an intent frown on his face, not revealing what was really going on in his mind. But Troy was sure Matthew knew what Hanz was thinking. It was Matthew’s gift. “But be forewarned, you’re not going to like what you find.”

“Maybe he’ll like it,” Tom muttered.

Troy groaned internally as Randon and Silva exchanged confused looks. Matt and Tom were playing that psychic conversation game again. It was annoying as they didn’t need to say much to each other to talk.

But when they got to the road, Matthew halted with a stare. “Who has a car?”

“Where’s your car?” Danny marched up to Randon’s hybrid, which Troy knew Rick had bought for him as a safety precaution. Troy had refused the same gift because he didn’t like being beholden to Rick Deacon.

“In the shop. Someone cut the fuel lines,” Matthew muttered. “It looked like gremlin work.”

Weary, Troy wondered how much of that was true. Matthew was in a dangerous line work. He was NYPD’s supernatural expert and a detective.

“I’ve got a car,” Randon said, lifting up his keys.

Tom called out, “How many people can we fit in the cat’s car?”

Randon shot Tom a look for being called ‘the cat’, especially since not everyone in the crowd was privy to that knowledge. That guy Art looked confused, though Hanz just seemed weary.

“I’ve got my own car,” Red declared, waving to it. “I can drive Hanz and Art.”

As that guy Red led them off, talking to JJ as one would a close acquaintance, Tom called out, “Is JJ driving?”

JJ lifted his head with one sorry glance at Troy and said, “I’m going back to the main station to make a report.”

Those riding with Red whispered together. Red called out, “What hospital are we going to?”

“Just follow us,” Matthew said, shooting Hanz yet another glance. Troy watched him.

When they got into the car, Randon at the steering wheel with Silvia in the back with Troy and Tom, Matthew sat shotgun and said to Randon, “I’ll put in the GPS. Go slow.”

“What is this really about?” Randon asked when he tugged on his seat belt. “Why this hospital? It is a bit out of the way. The nearest one is—”

“I know.” Nodding to him, Matthew looked back to Troy who was feeling the aches now crawl all over his skin. “But Randon, you know there is nothing we can do for Troy now except get him cleaned up and indoors.”

Troy cringed, realizing it was true.

Matthew said to him, “She was your death angel, wasn’t she?”

Closing his eyes, Troy clenched his teeth, nodding.

“What kind of punishment do you think she got for saving his life?” Tom murmured.

“Saving my life?” Troy turned on him. “I’m a vampire now! How is that saving my life?”

Tom looked nonplussed. “You’re not dead.”

Randon cleared his throat. “Troy, you’ve still got a life. It’s just changed now….”

Clenching his teeth, shaking his head, Troy could not take it. It was the worst. He wanted to die.

 

 

Before the Dawn

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

 

Troy had given up. He was now a vampire, which meant his life was over. He had added it up. After studying vampire folklore and mysticism for so many years he had learned the ins and outs of what people knew about them. First and foremost was that they could not abide natural light. Firelight and candlelight were tolerable, though dangerous. Sunlight was absolutely nuclear on a vampire body. Just a few seconds in sunlight, and he would be turned to dust. This meant no more life in daylight, and that was abysmal.

Honestly, Troy loved the sun. He loved sunlight. He loved sitting in it. He loved picnics in it. His favorite season was summer. After graduation, he had hoped to move to a hot sunny state where he could live free of the vampire threat. But that was no longer a possibility.

And he also loved garlicky foods. Italian pastas. Chinese dishes. Great wonderful European meals with a variety of flavors, all chocked with garlic. But being a vampire meant no more pizza—ever. No more lasagna, his favorite. And no more calzones, his go-to lunches. And that would suck.

By the time they reached the hospital, Troy had also come to the realization that he also could not continue his studies at the university, as all his classes were in the day. He would have to drop out now. And how could he get a job to pay off his useless college debt? What about that?

“Come on.” Tom tugged on Troy’s arm, urging to get him out of the car.

“What’s the point?” Troy murmured. But after Silvia pushed him to go, he followed Tom out to the curb.

It was late and dark. Troy was tired. He did not think that a vampire got tired, but then weakly chuckled to himself, realizing that of course they did. They slept in the day time. His father had. This was not a Twilight novel after all. He was not going to be sparkly or become invulnerable. He was not going to be quicker than most humans. Nor stronger—not without learning vampire magic which he doubted a vampire would bother to teach him if he wanted to learn it at all. He was just going to live forever, addicted to smell and taste of blood. It was going to suck. And he hated that pun.

Like a cluster of bodyguards, the entire group surrounded him. His body still throbbed from the transformation, including his legs. Seeing this, they physically lifted him off the ground and carried him into the emergency entrance of the hospital. Hanz, with Red and Art, followed behind them.

“You can’t bring him in here!” A doctor approached on long legs, his expression apoplectic as he clearly recognized a vampire when he saw one. Smart man.

“This is a hospital, isn’t it?” Tom shot back, his shoulders heaving up. His wings had to be fluttering under his suit coat, straining to get out.

“No,” Troy muttered, too weary for this. “Just take me to the roof.”

“What? Why?” Randon rounded on him, bristling like a cat. His eyes read exactly what Troy was thinking. “No. You’re NOT jumping off!”

His other friends stared in horror.

“Let the sun take me,” Troy moaned out. Jumping was ridiculous. “I never wanted to be a vampire.”

Matthew went pale. “But Troy—”

“No.” Troy shook his head, clenching his teeth. “I don’t believe my destiny is set. I refuse to accept Carlos’s prediction.”

“Carlos,” Tom mouthed with a huff. “This isn’t about Morty!”

Randon grabbed Troy in a headlock, holding fast. “Don’t leave us, man.”

Trying to shake him off, Troy gave him a dirty look.

“If I can live as a cat,” Randon said, “you can—”

“I don’t want to be a vampire!” Troy shouted back, sick of arguing this. He pushed off Randon’s arm. “I have been trying my whole life to avoid that.”

“Then why don’t you just go back and keep searching for a cure?” Matthew interjected in his rather frank way.

Troy’s canines were aching. He bit out, “There is no cure!”

They stared at him, all of his friends unwilling to accept that.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I have read everything I possibly could on the subject. The only cure is death. I could have cured the bite. I was so close to finding that cure. But once you are a vampire—that is the end.”

That guy Hanz piped up irritably. “So you’d rather commit suicide? That is completely idiotic.”

Troy bristled. That Hanz was way too perfect. Troy wanted to claw that perfect Nordic face of his.

“And selfish,” Hanz continued. “You could help a lot of people—”

“Shut up!” Troy snapped, unable to take it anymore. “It’s your girlfriend’s fault I am like this.”

That Hanz stared. “Eve’s fault?”

That Thor impersonator had to know. Troy bit out each word. “She was the death angel who was supposed to take my life. And she let me end up like this.”

The group with them went silent, but Troy noticed to his irritation that Tom and Matthew exchanged approving glances—approving of this Eve.

“Eve does not kill,” Hanz said in a softer voice. “She saves.”

But that infuriated Troy more. “Whatever! Take me to the roof and let the sun take me.”

“No…” Randon stared in horror at him.

“I have died!” Troy jerked away. This was the worst. It was not how he wanted to go, but this was the end. Troy massaged his forehead against a headache, trying to explain it them, especially to his best friend who really did not understand as being a witch’s familiar was manageable. Randon could control it and be human most of the time. “As a vampire I won’t be able to abide sunlight. That means I won’t be able to continue my studies anyway. My life is over. I can’t finish my PhD. What do I have left?”

“You have us.” Randon stared more, appalled that Troy would even ask that. Matthew and Tom nodded.

Then meddling Matthew had to put in his two cents: “Rick can get you a good job—”

“I don’t want to be beholden to Rick Deacon!” Troy moaned out, closing his eyes with an ever-louder groan. “He has enough problems.” Which was true. Rick had been dealing with severe problems connected to his werewolf life. He had lost a friend to man-eating werewolves. Rick had nearly been killed himself. The guy needed a break. But also, Troy did not want to owe that rich wolf anything. The guy was wealthier than Creosote and could buy his friends, which was disgusting—but Troy could not say that to his friends who genuinely liked the guy. “The last thing a werewolf needs is to protect a vampire.”

“Werewolf?” that guy called Art murmured. Hanz cringed while Red tugged that Art aside, whispering something to him, probably the fact that Rick Deacon was a genuine werewolf. Listening to him, Art stared in astonishment.

Annoyed, Troy said once more, “Take me to the roof, or I will find another way to let the sun end me. A vampire cannot last in sunlight. And I don’t want to live in the darkness.”

“Troy…” Randon shook his head, grieving. “Please.”

But Troy was set in his mind and there was nothing to deter him.

“Fine,” Tom said, his eyes for some reason searching the room for someone. “The roof. But you are an ass for asking us to do this.”

The doctor standing there stared at them all. His eyes raked to Matthew whom he clearly knew. Matthew had a thinking expression when he said to the doctor, “We need a key to the roof, right?”

Making a face, the doctor nodded. “Fine. But that vampire is not to linger in the hospital. Keep him away from people getting transfusions.”

“We’ll take the stairs,” Matthew said.

Huffing, the doctor went off to get the key.

When he returned, he showed them to a back stairwell which was used by staff only. Troy stared up at it and all the flights to the top, then side-glanced Matthew who obviously thought he was being clever for making them walk the entire height of the building. They would all have pain in the legs when they reached the top—enough to keep Troy from jumping. But as he had said, he was not going to jump. And a long walk before dawn would be a good idea. It would be the last time he would be with his friends before final death.

Matthew and Tom led the group upward with Danny and his friend still carrying the garlic rope. Troy noticed that the guy had stuffed the garlic into a bag and was politely keeping his distance. Randon and Silvia hung back behind Troy and that group. Silvia hissed something at her husband, urging him to make a phone call. Behind him, taking up the rear, was Red, Hanz, and Art who lagged together and talked—mostly for Art’s benefit.

“You shouldn’t do this,” Matthew said as they went up one floor. “Don’t you see how many people want you to live?”

Shaking his head, Troy muttered, “I am not going to entertain this argument. My mind is set. You can still live in the world. But I can’t. I told you, there is no future for a vampire.”

“That’s so pessimistic,” Tom grumbled, hiking up the steps on Troy’s other side. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Troy would have snapped back at Tom, but coming from a guy whose mother had been in prison most of his life, was half imp with so many things working against him, predicted to go blind in the future by Carlos (whose gift apparently was not as inaccurate as Troy wished it was), and was regularly being kidnapped by the Unseelie Court—he did not dare. Tom’s life was even worse than his. Never mind he was also a CIA agent who was valuable asset. Tom had upset the CIA, and consequently was spending more time in his auto shop in his backup career. He had also broken up from the girl of his dreams—Selena Davenport. Troy did not envy him.

“It’s realistic,” Troy said, achingly lifting his legs up each step.

Both Matt and Tom rolled their eyes. Matthew could hear Troy’s unspoken thoughts, knowing what he had withheld. But Tom could hear Troy’s temptations, which were screaming at him to break away and bite one of them to prove he was now an irredeemable monster. Their blood certainly smelled good. Troy could now hear their hearts beating steadily faster from the exertion of walking up several floors, though he noticed that Tom was not exerting as much effort (Tom had the ability to make himself weigh next to nothing and his heart had an odd almost Latin-cha-cha-cha type beat as if he had two hearts in his chest). He wasn’t showing off and flying up the steps as he normally would, though. Troy was not sure it was because Tom did not want to spook that guy Art, or if it was because he wanted to slow Troy down. It could be both.

“Sounds like a copout to me,” the guy with Danny said.

“Oh, really?” Troy sarcastically shot up to the guy. “And what makes you the expert?”

The guy with the shrunken head glanced once at Danny and said, “I was once a zombie, trapped for several decades without any ability to do anything but obey the man who had cursed me. But I eventually got freed.”

Tom chuckled, though he also looked impressed.

“It is real easy to give up,” that guy said, nodding hard at Troy. “And I was stuck waiting for someone to get us free. But I never lost hope.”

“But you can make fire with your hand,” Troy flung a hand out at him, recalling exactly how hot it had felt being near it. The guy had not even been singed.

“Not back then,” that guy said. He glanced to Danny who was listening silently with a fond nod. “None of us could do that until afterward when we made it home.”

“And had the crystals,” Danny cut in, adding.

Striped-shirt guy nodded. “Right. Before then, we were all pretty, um, what’s the word? Not harmless but…”

“Weaponless,” Danny said, peeking back at Troy. He then shook his head. “You should have gotten a gun license for conceal and carry if you knew you were targeted.”

“What would a bullet have done?” Troy snapped. This guy was some know-it-all.

Danny merely raised his eyebrows. “There are all kinds of bullets. SRA hunters use wood-tipped bullets against vampires.”

“But they do prefer crossbows,” that guy with the shrunken head added as if chatting about the weather.

“Who are you guys?” Troy finally asked. It was driving him crazy.

The guy with the shrunken head restrained his natural reflex to extend his hand for a shake, openly noticing that there was probably still garlic oil on it, glancing at Danny. Danny chuckled and said, extending his own hand to Troy, “Daniel Smith. And that’s Peter McCabe. We’re members of the Holy Seven.”

Comprehension shot through Troy’s brain. His eyes whipped to Peter whom he recognized fully now—from his shark’s teeth necklace and red crystal to his striped shirt and shrunken head. It was the Witchdoctor—pro soccer star of America. He was famous. A lot of people said he was weird in close quarters, but on the soccer field he was one of those guys who would go down in history as a god.

But then the rest of what Danny had said registered in his mind. They were members of the Holy Seven, therefore friends of Rick’s and from Rick’s hometown in Massachusetts. They were also presumably monster hunters way more powerful than those in the Supernatural Regulator’s Association. They would know how to handle a vampire easily.

“Danny Smith?” Troy echoed, trying to sort out his overwhelmed thoughts, “But Silvia said you were her brother—and her last name was Lewis.”

Danny laughed, nodding. “She’s my half-sister. My father remarried not long after my mother died when I was born. And I prefer Daniel, if you please. Silvia calls me Danny boy to make fun of me.”

Oh. Troy nodded.

Peter smothered a chuckle. “I thought you preferred Swift.”

Shooting him a look Daniel said, “Only among the Seven.”

The Seven. Troy sighed, overwhelmed by that thing in particular. But since he was going to die soon anyway, he asked, “I heard a rumor that the Holy Seven were monster hunters just like the SRA, if not more dangerous. What’s true?”

“Who’d you hear that from?” Peter asked, mostly curious though Troy could see he was someone who silently calculated plans of action for the future and was probably thinking up a better way to handle vampires like him.

Shrugging, Troy replied, “Around Gulinger—you’ve heard of Gulinger, right?”

Both Daniel and Peter nodded.

“I’ve been there,” Daniel said.

Troy’s eyes widened.

“We’ve taken people there,” Daniel explained, “for their safety.”

“Oh.” Troy wondered now over what he had heard, if it was true.

“Did How—uh, Rick ever say anything about the Holy Seven to you?” Daniel asked.

Troy’s mouth crooked to the side. All Rick’s Middleton Village friends called him Howie, as his real name was Howard Richard Deacon III. Silvia did it all the time, unapologetically. But clearly Daniel was trying to respect Rick’s insistence on going by his middle name. Troy kind of liked that. He was now even more sorry he was about to die. Though a bit of a know-it-all, Daniel seemed like a guy worth knowing.

“I heard his best friend, Abey, was in the Holy Seven,” Troy responded. “One of the leaders. Is that true?”

Peter and Daniel exchanged mirthful looks, smothering chuckles. They nodded.

“You already met him,” Peter said, gesturing down the stairs. “In the Seven we call him Red. But everybody but Howie calls him Andy now.”

Troy looked down to get another look at the tall freckled redhead who had come with a flaming sword—but that group had lagged so much behind that they were below them a flight. Randon and Silvia were still in view, walking behind his group, listening silently.

“A.B. was a childhood name just like Howie,” Daniel explained. “He actually went by the name of A.B.C. as those are his initials—Andrew Bartholomew Cartwright.”

“You can meet him better if you just give this up,” Randon called up to him.

Troy groaned. Shaking his head, he marched up faster. “Death will come for me at dawn. My time is already up.”

“You are an ass!” Randon tromped up after him.

Silvia held back.

Troy just went up faster, passing both Daniel and Peter. They hurried to keep up. Troy’s aches were nearly gone. He could no longer hear his heart beating, which was weird. His own blood had an acid smell to it, which made him yearn for fresh blood. It was a nasty feeling as fresh blood was in abundance within those people around him whom he cared about the most—Tom and Matt. Randon, thankfully, reeked of garlic. In fact, Troy could smell the garlic on most of the group, which blessedly curbed his desire to get just a taste. He didn’t actually want to be a blood-sucker after all.

They emerged out from a structure onto the roof, except for Silvia who lingered with look back for those still coming up. All those around Troy were winded from the hike, except for Tom who seemed to be hovering close to hold up Matthew. His eyes were fixed on Troy, reading his dismal thoughts that undoubtedly were screaming about hunger and blood in Tom’s imp-hearing ears. These, though, were shrouded in thoughts of worthlessness and hopelessness. Troy chose a rooftop structure to lean against.

All of them sat around him, making sure he did not jump off the roof anyway.

“This is ridiculous,” Matt said, still breathing hard. “There has to be a solution other than waiting for the sun to burn you up. I can’t just accept this.”

“I have,” Troy said, shrugging. “It is the order of nature.”

Tom stuck his tongue at Troy, spitting. “That’s what I think about your order of nature. What’s wrong with just living as a vampire? There are legal ways about getting blood without hurting anybody.”

Troy shot him an extremely dirty look. “I am not going to drink blood.”

Daniel and Peter nodded, agreeing that such a habit would be gross.

“Would you even have to drink blood?” Randon asked. His eyes searched around for Silvia to possibly confirm any knowledge that might be had about vampires. She would know, if anybody did.

“Is there a case where a vampire survived without it?” Troy asked.

“Has anyone tried?” Peter interjected.

“Who would know?” Daniel whispered to him.

“Mr. Carlton Jones might know,” Peter hissed back.

“His health is failing him,” Daniel said. “What about that ex vampire hunter back at Cliffcoast? That Mr. McDillan Eve knows?”

Troy stiffened at the name of Eve. He was still furious with her.

As if summoned, Hanz came out of the stairwell, oddly alone. His fair eyes raked over the roof, resting on Troy, then Matthew and Tom. He went to those two, clearly knowing them best. Troy wondered how they had met and when. Unfortunately, he did not have much time to find out. And it was just a curiosity anyway. He really didn’t want to know. Troy just wanted to close his eyes and die.

Red, or rather Andy, came up next with Art and Silvia. Silvia went to Randon, shooting Hanz a weary look while Andy and Art went to where Hanz stood.

They all waited for the dawn.

Conversation lulled as some of them even napped. Peter was oddly awake, and so was Daniel. Everyone else except for Tom settled where they could wait in comfort. Tom seemed restless, as if a noise on the air was making him more agitated.

Then, out of the silence, Tom shouted to the sky, “Go away.”

“What’s that?” Peter got up and looked to where Tom was facing. Above, Troy saw nothing more than dark sky, though Tom grew increasingly agitated as if he were hearing a particularly nasty imp say something extremely rude.

 “I don’t care whom you were talking to,” Tom shouted out at the darkness. “Go away.”

“What’s there?” Matthew got to his feet, while Peter backed away on guard, heading closer to Troy. Matt’s eyes raked over the dark sky, looking for what Tom was seeing.

“What is there?” Daniel stood up, his eyes tracking that same open space.

Tom looked bitter as he said, “Death angels.”

Troy turned around, his eyes trying to find that one who had cursed him to be vampire, but she was not there.

Tom was trembling, hearing more from that invisible being, his eyes fixed on that one dark spot in the sky. He shouted protectively, “Like I would tell you if I knew.”

Troy got to his feet, as shivers went down his arms. Tom was doing something dangerous. He could feel it. And weirdly, Tom was not backing down. It gave Troy the impression that Tom was staring down Death itself.

 “Are they looking for Eve?” Matthew asked, his eyes still raking over the blackness above.

Silvia rushed up next to Tom. She made a sweeping gesture with her arm, forming a hasty circle. Then with her hands contorting into shapes together as sigils with words chanted low whispering through her lips, a shiver rippled through the air like it was solidifying into a shield. Then she pushed.

An ear-piercing screech dug into everyone’s eardrums. Troy clapped hands over his ears. But whatever it had backed away.

“Witch!” an audible voice resonated over them at a distance, the sound like an echo under water. “You would align with a witch?”

“She comes in handy,” Tom said with a mocking shrug and a wink at Silvia.

Silvia smirked at Tom. Yet her brother, Daniel, rushed up, hissing into her left ear, “Don’t tempt them.”

She backed away with her brother, him gesturing to Randon to help him. Troy saw her hands were quaking.

“What do you want with Eve McAllister?” Andy (whom Troy still saw as Red) called to the air. “Why do you think she is here?”

“You?” a nearly snarling voice came down. “You are supposed to be the leader of the Holy Seven! How dare you align with a witch!”

Troy stared at Andy. Daniel had not steered him wrong. But who were they talking to?

Everyone was on his feet by then.

“Silvia is a reformed witch,” Andy declared with his shoulders squared, giving Troy the impression of knight of the Round Table. In fact, Andy seemed to glow. “And you are not behaving in the way I would expect an angel to.” The light arising from Andy was white and bright. Troy could feel it burn him.

Daniel ran up and grabbed Andy’s arm. “Red!” He gestured back to Troy who had on instinct ducked behind Peter who was standing just as tall, fingering his red crystal with the inclination to use it.

Almost immediately the light emanating from Andy quenched. He turned with wide eyes on Troy who was now staring at his sun-burned arms. “Oh! Sorry!”

Eyes wide on Andy, Troy said, “What are you?”

“Holy Seven.” Daniel waved at him, reminding him. “Warrior for God.”

It was funny and startling to hear Daniel just say it like that. Of course that guy had already told him, but it wasn’t a joke. They were not just monster hunters. They had something in them to their core which was way beyond typical.

Even glancing at Peter who was smirking at his fellow of the Seven, Troy could see he was brushing up against extraordinary people. But that really had been the story of his life. He was the ordinary kid who unfortunately had been bitten vampires and had an eternal bleed. Everyone else had a gift which he secretly envied. They all had something to compensate for their difficulties at being afflicted by the supernatural.

“What are you lingering around that vampire for? It is fruitless to try to spare the damned,” that voice from above stabbed down.

Troy shuddered. The worst part was that he was right. It was fruitless to try to save him.

But Andy called back at the invisible intruder with such a disgusted look, “Are you really an angel? Because that rhetoric is entirely counter to the Gospel. The whole point of it is to redeem souls. Whose side are you really on?”

Troy felt his ears pop. The air pressure, which he had not realized had been so heavy, had released.

“It’s gone,” Tom said. He was sweating. And he turned thankfully to Andy.

Andy nodded back. But he just grumbled.

 

Dawn’s Early Light

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four

 

 

The sky was lightening. Most stars were gone. There was one just above the horizon—possibly Venus, or maybe Mars. The planets always shone brighter. Most everyone had remained awake atop the roof since the visit from the disembodied voice. Randon consistently whispered that they could still go back indoors and think of an alternative way of living for Troy, that he should not give up on life but make due as a vampire. But Troy was having none of it.

As the sky started to get lighter, panting, tramping up the stairwell, sweating like he had run a marathon, Rick Deacon paused there and looked as if he were talking to himself. Then, alarmed, Rick rushed out the stairwell onto the roof. He ran straight to Troy and pounced on his back.

“What are you thinking!? Get off this roof!” Rick tried with all his strength to drag Troy back to the stairwell.

“Ow!” Troy wrestled him, angry the twerp was there. “Get offa me!”

It surprised him how easily he was able to wrench Rick off. Before they were nearly equal in strength. But Rick just tumbled back on four paws as a wolf, abandoning his shoes as his claws dug into the roof gravel when he transformed. In a jump, he pounced on Troy again.

“Gah!” A cry came out of Art. He ducked behind Hanz, horrified. Those in that corner of the roof dodged back also, eyes wide on Rick though it was clear Hanz had known Rick was a werewolf. Andy went in front of them, while everyone else scattered out of the way of the battling werewolf and vampire. 

“Rick! Stop it! I don’t want to be a vampire!” Troy tossed him off again, wishing the guy would just leave him alone.

But Rick just rolled across the rooftop then climbed back onto his sock-feet, taking once more human form. “Yeah? Well, I don’t want to be a werewolf, but I’m stuck!”

Sure, Rick always brings it back about him. Nobody can have it worse than him, Troy mentally grumbled. Feeling his teeth ache as his eyes grew red in vision, Troy said, “But I can end this.”

“Oh?” Rick snapped back. “And I can’t ‘end my condition’ too by eating garlic or honey? It’s the same damn thing! You are talking suicide!”

Troy clenched his teeth. It was not the same thing. The sun was not garlic or honey. Normal people should be able to walk in sunlight. It wasn’t a dietary thing. That kid always made his troubles bigger than they were.

“You are being selfish and short-sighted.” Rick growled. “Snap out of it!”

Troy shook his head. “You don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand?” The hairs on Rick’s head straightened up like hackles.

“You’ve always been a werewolf,” Troy shouted. “I was just a kid—”

Rick’s face went white with fury. “I was just a kid! I had no clue—”

“Not the same thing,” Troy argued, but he knew he was going to infuriate Rick more. Rick was always super-sensitive about how altered his life had become since he discovered he was a werewolf at thirteen years of age.

“It is! You’re freaking out and giving up!” Rick shouted, his canines elongating. “You think I’ve never thought that way?” But then he whipped to Tom and said, “Tom? Verify it for me!”

Tom promptly raised a hand, much to Troy’s annoyance. “I solemnly witness I’ve seen Rick get bombarded with suicidal thoughts too.” He then glared at Troy, adding, “But he does not entertain them.”

That was offensive. Troy snarled at Tom, wondering when he had become Rick’s lackey. “Entertain?”

“Yeah,” Tom bit back, unintimidated by Troy’s fangs (then again, as an ex-roommate to a werewolf, what would intimidate Tom?). “Do you actually think you are better than us just because you were born entirely human? What about Eve who spared your life? She’s a damn angel now.”

But the mention of that woman set Troy’s anger boiling again. “She got me stuck this way!”

“What’s this?” Rick asked. His eyes trialed back to the stairwell.

“No, she didn’t.” Huffing, Tom marched up to Troy.

The sky seemed to get lighter. Troy could feel the sun was about to crest the horizon. This was not how he had wanted to say good-bye to his friends. Not with an argument.

 “Your stinking father, the vampire, and his thugs from the Order of Blood did this to you,” Tom said, looking inclined to throttle him. “Eve merely saved your life.”

“I chose to die,” Troy said, waiting for the light to come to turn him to dust.

“Not acceptable,” Rick growled out. “I thank God Eve was your angel.”

He what? Troy wanted to scream. But then the sunlight broke, shining directly on all of them. He collapsed to his knees instead. “Agh!”

His skin was already smoldering.

Randon sprang up, screaming, “Shield him!” He threw himself into the sun’s path, splaying his arms to cover Troy. The others quickly jumped to do so… except for Peter who oddly was watching at the side, clearly willing to give Troy exactly what he wanted.

“No!” Troy shouted as his skin burned, wishing they would just join Peter. “Let me be! It is my choice! My life!”

“But Troy,” Randon grabbed him, trying still to cover him from the sun. “I can’t let you do this. You’re my best friend.”

A stab of pain cut deep in Troy’s heart. He wanted Randon to be free, to let go. He said, looking to Randon’s wife. “You’ve got Silvia.”

Silvia stared at him, flustered.

But Randon groaned. “Ugh. As much as I love Silvia, I did not marry her to replace you. Friends for life, man.”

Silvia nodded, trying to help Randon shield Troy from the sun, crying.

“My life is over,” Troy said, trying to go easily. It was hurting too much.

“No.” Randon dropped to his knees.

And the sun rose higher, lighting the city of New York, bringing pain with it.

“Ow…” Troy groaned, then looked about himself. The top layer of his skin seemed to the go the color of ash, flaking off like dust. Pink skin was underneath and turning pinker. He looked up at the bluing sky. Vampires were burned to dust by the sunlight. That was how it worked. But he was not. “I’m sure it’s not supposed to take this long.”

 “It isn’t,” Daniel, Andy, and Peter said in chorus. The other two out of the Seven stood back with Peter now, watching together. They exchanged knowing looks. Rick stepped with them also, openly confused. He stared up at the sky then at Troy, a peculiar light forming in his eye. He glanced back at the stairwell again, almost laughing. It was infuriating. What was so funny?

Those around Troy stepped away from him. His skin which had been smoking before sluffed off as dust, but under it was definitely pink flesh, like a sunburn and nothing more.

Tom peered over to where Rick was looking, and a crooked smile curled up to one side of his mouth.

“What’s so funny?” Matthew said, then looked that way also.

Then everyone looked, though they did not see anything.

Yet Troy, when he looked, he saw her. The dark angel.

“You!” he shouted.

The dark angel, with her long-and-straight midnight hair, all her bloody wounds, large bat-like wings, and long scythe, stepped out into the light. Like with the invisible angels, only a few could see her. But she glanced quickly to the sky as if those angels might come back for her and she only had a short time.

“Shut up, stupid, and listen,” she said, her voice reaching into Troy’s mind but not his ears as she walked across the roof to him. “You’re clearly not a vampire. That means you’re not entirely dead.”

Half filled with terror, half-filled with anger, Troy bit back, “And you’re the expert?”

“Yes,” she said, walking past Hanz who looked around, following her voice.

“Eve?” Hanz called out, his eyes searching desperately for her.

“He can’t see you?” Troy asked, with a glance to her.

“Only people whom I have saved can see me,” she said with hardly a look at the others who could also see her—among them was Rick, Matthew and Tom. She focused on Troy. “Now, I’ve only got a second. You need to start buying high SPF sunscreen. I used to use about 90 SPF. You’ll probably have to do the same. And sunglasses—until you can curb your appetite.”

This was crazy. Troy felt like screaming. Instead he shouted, “How am I not a vampire? I can’t feel my heart anymore. I crave blood.”

But she just stared at him with a dry look with the reply, “Have you drunk someone else’s blood yet?”

A shiver ran through Troy. Of course he hadn’t. He did not want to be a vampire.

Rick, Matthew, and Tom got in nearer, listening closely. The others there who could not see her, peered around in hopes to catch sight of what they were seeing—though Hanz stepped in, closing his eyes, and listened.

“What about the vampire’s blood they forced down my throat?” Troy retorted hotly. The sun was still burning, but there was no more smoke rising from his skin. He still felt like he was being cooked, though.

“Eve?” Hanz reached into the space next to where she was. She stepped out of reach, cringing as if it pained her to see that Nordic doctor so desperate to hold her.

She said to Troy in haste, “That was against your will. Vampirism is still a choice. You can be a daytime vampire.”

That sounded so stupid to Troy. “A daytime vampire?”

“Is she really here?” Hanz turned to Rick. “I can hear her, but she’s ignoring me. Can she not hear me?”

Rick pulled him aside, whispering into his ear something Troy could not catch.

Eve cast Rick a thankful glance as she said to Troy, “That’s right. You still have a life.”

Troy felt sick. He muttered, “A life…”

“Shut up,” she snapped, startling him so much that he staggered from her. Once more he remembered that she was death incarnate. She bit out angrily, “You’ve had it easy up ‘til now. Now you have to learn how to resist severe temptation—and maybe learn to think outside yourself for once.”

That accusation did not seem fair. Troy was about to protest but Eve continued in her rant without a breath.

“I bet since you got bit you’ve done nothing but hide from vampires. Did it ever occur to you spend your time helping others with their vampire problem instead of only thinking about yourself?”

She could have slapped him and it would have hurt less. Each of her words stabbed deep, and he felt shame. Had he really only thought of himself? Was this really fair? He had intended, once he had figured out a cure for the bite, to help bite victims afterwards. Was it that wrong to take care of himself first?

“Use your new gift to help those who do not have your experience and knowledge,” she said.

“Gift…” Troy muttered. How could being a vampire be a gift? Even one who could clearly walk in daylight without being dusted?

“Even a curse can be a gift,” she said as if speaking from centuries of experience. “I learned that.”

But then she turned toward her Nordic fiancée. “Hanz?”

“Yeah?” Hanz had been staring into space next to her, listening.

Her face went gentle as she spoke. Despite all the wounds and blood, it made her look beautiful. “Can I ask you a favor?”

Hanz stood like he would collapse in joy at hearing her, tears welling up in his crystal blue eyes. A thousand thoughts crossed his face as if they just had a long conversation with only those words. He did not say a thing, but he nodded.

“Help Troy figure this out,” she said. “Bring him to Will or somebody like him who can help him adjust to being no longer human.”

Troy shuddered. There were people like that? That is, outside Gulinger?

“Eve…” Hanz reached out to her.

She stepped back, fear in her eyes. “You can’t touch me. It will hurt you.”

Hanz halted. But then reached out anyway and, surprisingly, set his hand on her face, his fingers resting on her cheek. Before the entire rooftop crowd, the dark angel became solid. The couple stared into each other’s eyes and Hanz smiled.

“Oh wow,” Randon murmured, staring at the bloody, terrifying personification of death before them.

“That’s her,” Silvia squeaked out, recognizing her.

Hanz leaned in to kiss Eve.

Quick as lightning striking the top of the hospital, three angels in gray robes appeared on the rooftop. Two grabbed Eve, and in a snap, yanked her out of there. One angel remained, gazing darkly upon them all.

“No!” A gut-wrenching scream, erupted from Hanz. He grabbed at the air.

The gray angel who remained appeared as stoic as a priest in mass. His wings were as if from a huge dove, not quite white and not really flapping. They were spread out like a peacock on display. Everyone could see him. His eyes, however, did not rest on Hanz whose joy he had just destroyed, but on Tom who was rattled as if he knew this angel personally. “Tom Brown, the troublemaker.”

“Who-the-hell are you?” Tom shouted up. Several stared at Tom, surprised.

The gray angel spoke in a soft yet penetrating baritone. “My name is Asahel. And your sight has caused enough trouble.”

Tom glared upward, teeth clenching. Troy looked nervously to him as did the others.

 “I prophesy that you—Trouble,” the angel said, “—will lose that sight while you are still young.”

Matthew cringed, closing his eyes. Troy and Randon exchanged glances, knowing he was talking about Carlos’s prediction. The others were working to calm Hanz down after being so close to his fiancée yet losing her again. Only Peter, who was back with Silvia (possibly to protect her from the angel) glared at him with dejection.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Tom jerked up his chin, still full of bravado.

The angel’s gray wings fluffed in affront.

Matthew stepped forward, joining Tom’s side. He peeked once to Troy then to Hanz. “You’ve done your deed. Be gone.”

“No! Wait!” Hanz rushed up, called out to the gray angel in the air. “Where is Eve? Where have you taken Eve?”

Casting him a particularly annoyed glance, the gray angel said, “Forget her.”

 “How can I possibly?” Hanz breathed out, his face white with stress.

Those around him stiffened, as clearly knew Hanz was of a singular mind. And Peter seemed even more irked.

“You have no idea how long I have waited for her!” Hanz called skyward.

Intense disdain formed on the gray angel’s face. He huffed in disgust then vanished like a bolt of lightning.

“And like that, he’s gone,” Silvia muttered. She then looked to both Randon and Troy who had exchanged shaken glances, both breathless. Never in their lives had they expected to see an angel.

“I think I like Eve better than that one,” Troy whispered, feeling pale. His bones seemed to ache. “She was freaky, but he was downright scary.”

Nodding to him, Hanz then kicked a rooftop air vent.

All eyes set on him, and Troy realized now that maybe Hanz’s problem really did take a certain kind of precedence. He just did not know the particulars.

“That angel had wings,” Art murmured, “But he wasn’t exactly using them. Were they decoration?”

Eyes turned to him. He seemed to be the only person there not connected to the supernatural in any way. Rick glanced to those in the Seven and they all approached Art to deal with probably damage control. Andy whispered something in Art’s ear, and Art nodded. His eyes turned toward Hanz who was still mid breakdown.

Andy went directly to Hanz, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We won’t give up. We just have to end the vimp curse, right?”

Vimp curse? What was that? Troy wondered. He had heard the vampires talking about that vimp thing, but he had no clue what it was.

Embracing Andy in a hug, Hanz struggled against tears. “Thank you.”

Then Peter spoke up. “That just didn’t feel right. Those angels are bureaucratic little—”

In a shot, Tom sprang over and slapped a hand over Peter’s mouth, eyes wide. He hissed, “Don’t talk too much about them. It’s like an invitation. They are death.”

All of them stared. All of them had the same question on their minds as well. How much did Tom know about such angels? He clearly knew a lot.

Leaning a mite from Tom, relenting, Peter then asked, “What is this about you losing your sight?”

With a moan and a roll of his tired eyes, Tom tried to avoid the looks of the other Gulinger alumni. They all exchanged glances, as this was not something they talked about much. Carlos’s predictions were mostly non-topics. No one wanted to talk about how they would die. Yet Matthew finally said, “Has Rick ever told you about our friend, Carlos Mendez?”

Rick cringed, blushing with an apologetic shrug to his friends from Middleton Village. All turned their gazes onto him as Peter and Andy were helping support grief-stricken Hanz with the aid of Art.

“Come here and let me tell you about him,” Matthew beckoned Peter near for a private chat while Rick switched places to speak to Hanz. Troy watched them, realizing was a fool he had made of himself. He really had just tried to kill himself. How stupid was he?

As Rick was talking low with Hanz, Troy realized this guy, this Nordic doctor who knew his guardian angel intimately was someone he needed in order to survive. He had to talk to him now.

Troy jogged up to the group who were helping distraught Hanz back to the roof doorway. “Hey. Wait. –I’m sorry.”

All of them looked to him, Hanz most especially. His wet, red-ringed eyes fixed on Troy with an odd level of compassion that Troy did not feel he deserved.

“I want to help,” Troy said. Then heaving a breath, he also confessed the core truth with an apologetic shrug. “And I need help. Your angel lady said you could lead me to some kind of specialist who can help me get used to be no longer human?”

That Hanz wiped his eyes, nodding. “Yeah. Her brother. William McAllister. He’d be the foremost medical expert on how to treat a person with vampiric conditions. He wrote a book on it.”

Those around them looked shocked—Rick especially. “Will did?”

Rick knew her family? Who didn’t he know? It annoyed and amazed Troy at the same time how many people around the world Rick was acquainted with in and outside of business. Rick casually called it networking, but it annoyed Troy.

Hanz nodded to Rick, sniffling. “It’s sold as a gag gift in stores, but it’s actually quite informative, and according to Eve, spot on. She helped him write it. He used it to pay for college.”

Troy’s mind was swimming. He watched in a daze as Hanz called to Tom as if old friends. “You know where Eve hangs out, don’t you?” Hanz said. “Somewhere here in New York?”

Tom jogged up from Matthew (who had been explaining Carlos to Daniel and Peter) to Hanz, nodding. “Sure I do. We’re in the heart of her territory right now.”

Troy looked around, wondering if she would be back.

“Territory?” Hanz asked, his eyes struggling to focus. He looked entirely wiped out.

“Yep.” Tom grinned widely as if saying ‘Merry Christmas’. “It’s where she reaps souls.”

Hanz’s eyes widened while Troy shot Tom a glare. So Tom had known she would be there. They had chosen this particular hospital on purpose. They knew Eve would come here. Tom and Matt were hoping to find Eve for Hanz.

Matthew edged in, elbowing Tom in the side with a gesture to Art who looked a little stunned at Tom’s word choice, which was always way too blunt. “That means she helps ghosts go to the right place. But Hanz, if those angels just took her away from here—”

Hanz nodded, easily understanding. “Then they took her away for good. I know.”

Troy could hear the grief in his voice and felt a pang for the man.

“Which means, they won’t let her come back, especially now that they know I’m here,” Hanz added.

“Most likely, no.” Matthew patted Hanz on the shoulder, pleased he did not have to explain things to the man.

“So…” Daniel, who had shared a look with Peter, said to Hanz, “We go back to our old plan and seek out the elf to help find Eve?”

“You found our elf?” Andy asked, interested.

“Elf? What elf?” Rick perked up, interjecting himself once more into the conversation.

Troy felt like his head was swimming. His skin also ached horribly. It was now an ugly pink. But it was just sunburn, nothing more. He needed to get indoors and meet that doctor that Hanz knew. That William.

“Oh no…” Tom jumped to Rick, grabbing him into a headlock, which Rick quickly ducked out of from experience—both going back into their old roommate antics as if Troy had never been turned into a vampire right there in front of them and things were not horrible. Tom especially seemed cheerful as he laughed out, “Rick, don’t even think about chasing after elves—even if you think they are cute.”

“What’s this?” Silvia perked up with interest, her eyes flickering to Rick and back to Tom before looking to Randon for an explanation. Randon exchanged another look with Troy but saw him weary and worried. Troy stuck close to Hanz. He was his lifeline now.

Matthew had even started to laugh, relieved the danger was over. But when he looked to Hanz who was massaging his forehead, then at Art and Troy, he said to Rick. “Hey, can some people crash at your place? I think a few here are wiped out.” He jerked his head towards Hanz.

Rick looked mostly at Hanz and Art, glancing once at Troy who lingered near. “Yeah. Let’s… go down and get my car. I’ve got room.”

They took the stairs all the way down to the main floor once more. The feeling was surreal. Troy half expected the doctors to have a meltdown if they saw him alive—but Matthew hissed in his ear, “Don’t worry about it. We walk straight through and nobody will notice.”

On the main floor, the hospital noise was as always a murmur of stress. Normal life and death were still happening—and he was part of the living. As Troy walked with Hanz, not wanting to leave his side without getting what he needed, he noticed people staring at them.  

“Hey! Officer Calamori!” JJ jogged up in his blue police uniform, grabbing Matthew’s attention. “He’s awake!”

Snatching a quick look with Tom, both Matt and Tom split away from the group, heading towards recovery.

Halting as he watched them run off, Troy murmured, “They must frequent this hospital a lot.”

Randon nodded with a snort. “JJ didn’t even say hi.”

“JJ?” Peter looked to Andy, then Rick who had nodded.

“Joshua Johnson,” Rick said, explaining. “Fellow ghoulie. Sees ghosts.”

Art, who was groggy, raised his eyebrows in a daze. “Oh.”

But taking cues from Hanz’s weary body language, they soon went out to find their cars.

“Are we leaving Matt?” Rick asked, glancing back to the building when he got to curb.

Andy nodded. “Yeah. I think they’ll be a while. It’s ok to go.”

“Ok…” Rick looked around. “Who is going where?

Randon lifted a hand. “All those in my car can crash at our place.” He nodded to Troy.

Troy looked to Hanz. “Uh… I was hoping—”

“Troy will come with me,” Rick said. He then smirked at Randon. “My place will be garlic free, and he can crash on the couch.”

What a pathetic reminder, Troy thought. To think he was safer at a werewolf’s house…. But Rick was right.

“And Hanz?” Daniel asked.

“He gets the spare room,” Rick said. He then glanced to Art. “And he can have my room.”

Andy nodded.

“You also come with me,” Rick said to Andy.

“I need to get home,” Andy said, disagreeing.

Shaking his head, Rick replied, “You can call Jessica from our penthouse. I don’t think we need you driving on the road while half asleep.”

“Fair enough,” Andy said, chuckling.

The Expert

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

Rick directed those who were coming with them to his family’s New York penthouse to choose a car and follow him. Hanz and Art went with Andy. So Rick pulled Troy to his car, making him sit in the front passenger side. It was awkward, as he never really had been alone with Rick before, even when they were friends at school. They always

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 21.01.2020
ISBN: 978-3-7554-7908-6

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Widmung:
To all those who love garlic