Retribution
Anna Strong Chronicles - 5
by
Jeanne C. Stein
To my pop—who never really got it
And my family and friends who do
This one’s for you
PROLOGUE
IT WAS TOO DARK.
She couldn’t see.
Her nose wrinkled. Something smelled bad. Smelled of urine and vomit and . . .
Death. She recognized it, though she shouldn’t have been able to. She wouldn’t have been able to twenty-four hours ago.
She was afraid. He was supposed to be here. He promised to be here.
She stepped closer to the wall, away from the door. The dark clutched at her with icy fingers. She was too new. She felt vulnerable, exposed. Her blood, his blood, ran through her veins, but it offered no protection. Where was the strength he promised? The freedom from fear?
She began to shake. She was so hungry. She needed to feed. He said he’d be here to help her. To show her what to do.
A sound, the scrabbling of claws on concrete, made her jump. Her skin tightened at the base of her spine. There were rats in here. Rats. He didn’t expect her to eat rats, did he? No, he’d have to let her feed from him again if that’s what he had planned.
She would not eat vermin. No matter how hungry she was.
She felt a thrill of excitement. She had done it. She had become vampire, one of the strong, one of the immortal. It wasn’t exactly what she expected—the becoming. But she’d crossed the threshold and come out the other side. She was vampire.
So, why was she cringing here in the dark like a child just because he was late? Hadn’t he said instinct would kick in when the time came to take her first human?
Maybe he had more faith in her abilities than she did.
Maybe he had decided to let her hunt on her own because he knew what she was capable of.
Maybe he was right outside the door, waiting for her to—
To what?
She peered into the darkness. There wasn’t anyone here. There were no humans in the building, of that she was certain. She didn’t smell anything except the putrid odor of decay. She didn’t hear any hearts beating, nothing breathing or snorting or coughing.
She was alone.
With the rats.
She pressed a dial on her watch. The face glowed. She’d been here thirty minutes. She would wait five more.
She worked her way back along the wall to the door. There was no moonlight to break the gloom or cast a shadow through the broken windows. Irritation quickened her step. Why had he told her to meet him here? Was this some stupid initiation prank? If it was, she didn’t find it funny. He’d know that soon enough.
She pushed at the door.
It creaked open.
He was waiting for her outside, his features pale in the dim light.
“Where have you been?”
He smiled and raised his arm.
A shiver of uncertainty ran up her spine. “What is that?”
He took one step closer and fired.
The dart from the crossbow caught her just under her left breast. A prick.
Warmth.
Then . . .
I SIT STRAIGHT UP IN BED—HEART POUNDING.
Christ.
What a weird dream.
CHAPTER 1
THERE ARE SOME THINGS ABOUT BEING A VAMPIRE that come in handy in my line of work.
Tonight is a perfect example.
I’m a bounty hunter. The human I’m after is sitting at a bar ten feet away from me getting shit -faced on cheap beer and bad whiskey.
She’s leaning on the shoulder of her loser boyfriend, whose name is Hank. I know this because I smell the booze, see the drunken haze clouding her eyes, hear every word they’re saying. Where they plan to go when they leave, who they’re planning to meet, how much money they expect to have after they rob the neighborhood 7-Eleven.
She has no idea that anyone is listening. How could she? The noise in this dive is at jet engine decibels. But I hear. Everything.
She pushes herself off the bar stool and staggers to her feet. Her name is Hilda. She’s wanted for three counts of aggravated assault. The boyfriend she’s drinking with is one of the complainants. Seems they ’ve made up. She’s about five feet four inches, two hundred fifty pounds. She’s dressed in low-cut jeans and a tight T-shirt.
Not a pretty picture.
Hilda gathers up what’s left of a twenty—a fiver and some coin. The barkeep laid the change down five minutes ago with a smile after she’d called for the tab.
The barkeep’s expression now reflects disappointment; he thought she might forget.
Hilda’s expression says fat chance.
Hilda pushes the coins toward him but drops the bill down the front of her shirt and grins. “Want a bigger tip? Come get it.”
Hank grabs her arm. “What are you talking about, bitch?”
The bartender takes a step back and moves away. The boyfriend is bigger than Hilda and mean-looking. I can see by the frown on his face that the barkeep thinks no five-dollar tip is worth the aggravation. He moves to the other side of the bar.
Hilda and her boyfriend argue all the way to the door. I slip out right after them. I already know where they ’ve parked their car and while they lurch toward it, I take off ahead of them. By the time they get to me, I’m leaning against the driver’s side door, twirling a pair of handcuffs.
“What the fuck?” Hank says.
“Yeah, what the fuck?” Hilda echoes.
“Hilda, Hilda. I got a call from your daughter this afternoon. She’s upset. Do you know why?”
Hilda’s eyes scrunch. “No. Why?”
“You must have forgotten that you had a court date this week. You didn’t show up. Now if I don’t get you to jail tonight, your daughter is going to lose her house. You really wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”
The boyfriend snarls and takes what I’m sure he imagines to be a menacing step toward me.
The fact that his eyes are crossed and drool spindles from the corner of his mouth takes the sting out of the threat. I hold my ground and snarl right back. Literally.
His eyes widen, but he places his hands on swaying hips and says, “Those are bullshit charges. You’d better get away from my car, little lady, or I’m going to have to take you over my knee.”
He grins at Hilda. “That’s pretty good, huh? We’ll give this bitch a spanking she’ll never forget.”
Hilda grins back. For a minute, I think they’ve forgotten I’m here. Then they both turn around.
And start to run.
In opposite directions.
Hank picks the better route—toward the street. With surprising dexterity, he leapfrogs into the back of a moving pickup and peeks up over the gate. The driver doesn’t realize he’s picked up a passenger and continues on his way down the road.
Hank has no bounty on his ass, so I don’t care. I take off after Hilda. She has a head start. Still, it’s no contest. She’s two hundred and fifty pounds of couch potato. I don’t need to tap into vampire strength or speed. I’m on her before she makes it to the end of the parking lot.