Never Trust A Vampire chapter 1 preview #fridayreads #urbanfantasy #contemporaryfantasy

Never Trust A Vampire

The people we save look at us like we’re superheroes, or guardian angels, but we bleed.

We break.

And sometimes, we even die. Becoming a paladin means sacrifice of self.

Saving innocents is always top priority, so when the vampire Adam asks for Agent Seven's services to rescue children from L.A.’s reigning vampire, The Agency won't let her refuse. Company motto is the only good vampire is a dead one, so what makes this guy different from all the rest? This feels like a trap.

Will Adam prove her wrong, or be her downfall?

This story is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to adult situations.

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Chapter One

Della

Dodging the man-turned-werewolf, I tucked into a roll, and—yuck—stood with dog poop stuck to my coat.  Couldn’t people clean up after their mutts in the park?  “Note to self: when someone asks you to save the world, say no.” 

I wasn’t some dainty girly-girl, but I hated the muck and grime of the job.  Well, hate was a strong word. 

All I needed was one clean shot to sink the tranq dart.  Sleepy-time for wolfie, recovery team picks it up, and I can go home. 

Werewolves were victims of a supernatural virus, so we didn’t kill them—The Agency had a secure retreat where the infected were treated and educated about their affliction.  The majority haven’t known what happened to them three days of the month, so they’re eager to learn how to safeguard their friends and family from being hurt by the beast within. 

Three years of hunting, and I couldn’t wait to run to a shower when the night was up.  When you grow up in the food service industry, being clean is important.  Poop wasn’t a scent I wanted stuck to leather, either.

The story of how I got drafted into the world-savin’ business wasn’t so complicated. 

Amelia Thornhill directed a vampire at me. 

A normal girl would probably have been killed, drained of her blood and possibly even turned.  Turned out, I hadn’t been normal since my sixteenth birthday.  My touch burned the undead like a cross or holy water.  Don’t ask how, ‘cause I have no clue.  Amelia said they’re researching it.

I celebrated my nineteenth birthday in April 2007 getting puked on by a homeless drunk after I saved him from being an easy meal. 

This suit was relatively new, too. 

My first lasted two months last year, until I went toe-to-toe with a werewolf in the Cascades. 

The second, a little longer.  An acid attack from a Khorkhoi demon ate a bunch of holes in the torso armor.  My basic cat-suit still intact, I got a new torso piece and wore that kit until they came out with a new ensemble for all of the agents in January. 

The new material was a lot more durable, most of the armor pieces were part of the suit instead of separate, and it somehow reacted with the wearer’s body temp to keep you cool in hot places and warm in cold climates.  Our boots and coats also had tiny GPS trackers embedded in them now.

A noise woke me. 

Instinctively, I reached for the sidearm under my pillow. 

My phone.  Groaning, I answered, “Mom?”

My personal phone rang again.  Only Mama called that, so I leapt out of bed to get it.

Voice mail… 

She hated talkin’ to machines, always hangin’ up and calling right back.  Dreading that it might be the hospital or her doctor, I listened to the message.

“Hey, Della…your mom said she last knew you were in L.A. and guess where I finally am? Let’s catch up, ‘kay? I’m staying at the Biltmore.”

Charlotte. 

Talk about a blast from the past.  We were cousins on my father’s side, Charlotte was four years older than me, and I hadn’t seen her since her high school graduation in Oklahoma City.  His side of the family all wanted to “make it big”. 

She was the only one that actually did it. 

Guess Mama was keepin’ in touch…weird that Charlotte would want to connect now, though, unless she was merely lonely for a familiar face.  I didn’t know her well.

I’d been an active agent for The Agency nearly a year since right after my high school graduation.  Amelia was my guide—the book, equipment, and patch-her-up lady, and thought she was my boss.  Our latest assignment put us in Southern California, going undercover in the realm of a very old and powerful vampire who thought she owned the city.

Mission: Pose as a volunteer at a church-run shelter for runaways.  Assess the current demon-to-human ratio in the city.

Team: Only Amelia and myself.

It was early May and we’d been here a couple weeks, longer than any agent should be.  The Agency should’ve had a new assignment for us already.

I called directory assistance to get the number of the hotel, then dialed the front desk to leave Charlotte a message. 

Checking the clock, I’d only been asleep five hours.  “Curse these vampire hours…” I grumbled.  Vamps were the worst cases.  You had to be awake when they were, which meant the complete opposite schedule of any sane human being. 

Charlotte called back late afternoon.  “Are you free for dinner, Della? I have a night off after rehearsals for my performance Friday.”

“Uh, I guess…as long as I’m back by dark.”

“By dark?”

“Graveyard shift.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, I guess we should meet up soon, then. I have a suite. Just have them ring me.”  She hung up with the assumption I agreed.

Downtown L.A. was way too crowded for my taste, but that’s where I’d find my cousin.  The Biltmore looked pretty fancy from the outside, but that didn’t prepare me for walkin’ through the doors.  Opulence of several decades ago.  Architectural history wasn’t my strong suit, so I couldn’t pinpoint the year, but every inch of the place screamed expensive. 

Made me very conscious of the old jeans and tee I wore.

“Charlotte Taylor’s room, please,” I said to the clerk.

“Is she expecting you?”

“Uh, yes, I’m her cousin.”

“Ah.”  He got that look of oh, the city girl’s taking pity on the country bumpkin.  I’d seen it before.  “Ms. Taylor is in the Music Suite. Take the elevator over there.”

“Thanks.”  So what if everything I wore amounted to forty dollars?

A man dressed in a black suit answered the door when I knocked.  “Yes?”

“I’m Charlotte’s cousin.”

“Reed, let her in,” I heard Charlotte say behind the bodyguard.  Literally behind—I couldn’t see her due to his mass.  Reed let me cross the threshold and Charlotte hugged me.  “Hey, Della!”  She was barely five-feet-tall and fit under my chin.  “Welcome to my temporary home. Do you want to eat out or order room service?”

And cheerful to the point of being chirpy.

This was no little hotel room—the Music Suite was bigger than my house and included a baby grand piano.  I didn’t want to think what it cost per night.  “Whatever. You called me.”

“True. I don’t get to spend much time with anyone other than Nicholae and Reed, especially another woman. Your mom said your job makes you travel, too?”  The bodyguard went to a chair in the corner and resumed reading a newspaper.

Did a small-time piano player need a wall of a guy for security?  Twenty-four-seven bodyguards didn’t come cheap unless they were family, so only the rich and famous bothered to keep them.  Charlotte wasn’t famous.

“Uh, yeah. Lots of people in need.”  The windows looked down on Pershing Square.  I didn’t like facing people when I talked about work.  Someone would inevitably figure out I was a bad liar.

“Well, let me know if you need reimbursement for parking. Should be my treat since I asked you here. So, what are your taste buds in the mood for?”

“I can pay my own way.”  Turned back to her.  “Just pick your poison, Charlotte.”

“Okay, then.”  She picked up her purse.  “Reed, I’ll be back in two hours, if Nicholae needs me.”  She opened the door and I took my cue to follow.

“Who’s Nicholae?” I asked in the hall.

“He’s…”  She punched the “down” button for the elevator.  “…my benefactor. He manages my career.”

“So he’s in the music biz.”

“Well, no…”  The doors opened and we stepped into the car.  “He’s not with a record company or anything like that.”

“Then how did you start playing professionally?”

“He opened doors.”  She shrugged.  “I don’t know the intricacies. Don’t need to. All I know now is that once word spread, people started asking for me.”

“Lucky.”  My Agency-developed suspicious streak was raising its head, but Charlotte seemed happy, and she was obviously talented if she kept getting offers to do concerts and stayed in luxury suites, so I tamped it down. 

Even if it turned out her start was from shady deals, she’d survive.

“Yeah, it was perfect timing. I didn’t know what I’d do for summer work and I was out of my apartment.”  She stepped out into the lobby.  “Where’s your car?”

“Out front. Told the valet I was picking someone up.”

“Nice.”

I shrugged.  “A tip goes a long way toward cooperation.”  So did flashing my very-official-looking ID.  The rental was waiting right by the doors.  “I live at fast food joints and diners, so if you want somethin’ else, you’ll have to direct me.”

“If you know of somewhere with a taste of home, I’d be grateful.”  Homesick it was, then.

You wouldn’t believe we were related—besides Charlotte being adopted, the family tended toward the cute and wholesome side.  She was stunning, with a pocket-sized swimsuit model build and a very pretty face.  Her dark curls were in striking contrast to her blue eyes and fair skin.  I always wondered where her parents found her.

“So, have you been out of the country?” Charlotte asked.

“Some. You?”

“Not yet. Well, the Canada side of Niagara, but, no.”  She twisted in her seat to face me.  “You look different than the last time I saw you.”

“That was five years ago. Big difference between fourteen and nineteen.”

“I guess. I just didn’t expect to see you so…”

My eyes slanted toward her.  “What?”

“Trim.”

What did she mean by that?  “You thought I’d look like I live in a diner?”

She shrugged.  “I don’t know. You look athletic and I didn’t think you were into sports.”

“I’m not, except for watchin’ football.”  She was too nosy for my own good.  I pulled into a Norms parking lot.  “Hope this is what you were lookin’ for.”

“Della, I’m not trying to insult you. You look great.”  She touched my arm.  “I’d love the number of your personal trainer.”

Oh, good grief.  I got out of the car and went inside.  “Table for two,” I told the hostess.  Charlotte ran in behind me.

At six o’clock in Los Angeles, most of the diners were still older folk and the restaurant wasn’t packed, yet.  We were seated right away.  I studied the menu, letting time pull my cousin’s foot out of her mouth for her.

“So what’s it like working all night?” she asked after the waitress brought our salads.

“Dark. Slow. Quiet. Just like anyone else’s graveyard shift.”  Lie ratio—three out of four.

“Okay, I’ll shut up.”

And now I felt guilty.  Never liked answering questions about myself, though, not since the day Amelia found me.  The less I said about what I did, the less likely I’d give away a secret.  It was safer.  “Don’t know much about your side of the family, but Guthrie’s the same.”

“One big, happy clan?”

“Pretty much.”

She looked grateful for the subject change.  “I prefer California. Maybe it’s in my wiring or something, but I didn’t fit back there. Is that why you left, too?”

More like why I was forced away, but I couldn’t tell her that.  “Nah. I just found somethin’ I’m good at.”

“Well, good for you, Della.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

With the supper plates we moved on to Charlotte’s career and the music she liked to play.  I didn’t know Brahms from Bach, but I thought I nodded appropriately.  Charlotte insisted on picking up the check, and I took her back to the hotel.

Charlotte opened the front door at the same time a man was coming out. 

They collided. 

Mutual apologies were given.

Then, his gaze fell on her, and his face paled like he’d seen a ghost.  A real feat since he already looked like he didn’t get much daylight.  His eyes traveled over her like he was trying to memorize every detail.  My cousin was too busy blabbering apologies to notice.

“Sir, are you alright?” I asked.

“Er, yes. Forgive me. I’ll get out of your way.”  His accent was English, less upper-crusty than Amelia’s.  He stepped aside.

“Thanks,” Charlotte said, and continued to the elevator.

I felt him watching us leave, and sure enough, when I turned around in the lift before the doors closed, he was staring at Charlotte still.  If he didn’t know her, he was definitely intent on remembering her face.

“A fan, you think?” I asked.

“Who?”  She dug in her purse for her room card.

“The guy that bumped into you. He was staring.”

She looked up.  “He was? Was he cute?”

I shrugged.  “Kinda good-looking if you like beards, but that’s not the point. You really didn’t notice?”

“Nope. If he’s staying here, maybe we’ll meet again. I haven’t had a date in over a year.”

I shook my head.  Civilians were so clueless.  The things people missed from not being observant…

Charlotte said goodbye at her door.  “Sorry I can’t invite you in, but I have to rehearse before bed. Boss’s orders.”

“Okay. Well, enjoy your stay, and…break a leg.”

She smiled.  “Thanks. Goodnight.”

The man was still in the lobby when I came down.  I walked out of the hotel and so did he.  I turned the corner to go to the car, stopped, and pushed him against the wall when he came around.

“Why are you following me?” I asked, pocket dagger held to his throat.

He held his hands out to the sides.  “Whoa, steady, friend. I only wanted to inquire about your companion. She looked familiar, see?”

“Saw that on your face. What’s it to you?”

“She—”  He leaned away from the knife.  “She resembles someone I lost, is all. Could you point that somewhere else?”

“Chalk it up to coincidence and leave her alone. She’s not stayin’ long.”  I backed off, giving him my best I’ll kick your ass if you hurt my cousin look.

“Oh? Pity.”

The man didn’t look dangerous, and I got no supernatural vibes.  A pulse, pink in his skin color…good signs.  Still…  “Look, if you’re a fan, buy a ticket to the Philharmonic like everyone else, okay? She’s just a piano girl.”  Hopefully sufficiently warned off, I turned my back on him and went to the car.

Real threats were out there and I had twenty minutes to full darkness.

Amelia couldn’t fit in at the shelter with her accent, so she was carrying on a daylight role with businesses rumored to be aiding the bloodsuckers.  She was very good at playing bureaucracy against itself.  This week, she was trying to expose the security leak at the blood bank of one of the hospitals. 

Juliet ran her nest like organized crime and had been careful about drawing attention with an excess of dead bodies.  Shipments of blood would get “lost” here and there, and no one noticed if the homeless disappeared. 

And Los Angeles had a lot of homeless people.

We couldn’t carry out a direct assault, but we could make life harder for her here until opportunity arose.

Mama thought I was in college.  It was partly the truth.  When I could, I took correspondence courses and traveling had softened my accent.  Amelia spent the first six months of my training blurting out corrections to my Oklahoma pronunciation. 

From Seattle to Sri Lanka, I dusted vampires, put ghosts to rest, captured werewolves, and intervened with victims of black magic.

Could be a worse life.