Page 31 of Tainted Souls
It’s heavy, as expected, loaded with tungsten bullets. Good for a wallop, not killing. It is inadequate for what I’m planning to do.
“I’ll need something better,” I say, my gaze drifting to the weapons cabinet behind him.
Following my line of sight, he shakes his head. “No. Those aren’t standard issue.”
“Neither am I,” I insist, “nor are these vampires.”
Without me, he wouldn’t have known about these illegal citizens at all. By the time he found out, the ones complicit in the attack would’ve likely already fled. There’s no good reason to be denying me right now.
The general studies me for a moment, his weathered face revealing nothing. Then he sighs, again, reaching beneath his desk to unlock another compartment, this one requiring both a key and his thumbprint. He withdraws a remote, and with a single click, the protective glass barrier shielding the weapons slides open.
“I’m bending a lot of protocols for you, Seraph.”
“I’ll return everything.” I scan the variety of equipment until my eyes settle on a lumen-tipped bow. “Just this, actually.”
I slip the bow from its rack, testing the tension of the string. Perfect.
“Just be careful,” he says, moving to close everything up. “That bow isn’t registered to you. It’s Redmoore property. If you’re caught—”
“I won’t be,” I assure him, braiding my hair tight against my scalp to eliminate any handholds an enemy might grab. “And if I am, I’ll say I stole it.”
“Pragmatic to a fault.” His mouth twitches in what might almost be a smile.
I glance down at my torn skirt and impractical stilettos. “I could do with a change of clothing too.”
“This way.”
He leads me down a narrow corridor into a utilitarian changing room. Metal lockers line one wall, while benches bolted to the floor line the other. Its harsh lighting leaves no shadow unexplored.
The general unlocks one of the lockers with another code, revealing a variety of outfits designed for different types of combat scenarios. He holds up a pair of black cargo pants with reinforced knees and a lightweight vest with a protective turtleneck. “These should fit.”
I only take the pants. Those vests, though great for preventing vampire bites, only restrict my movement. “Thank you.”
The general nods, turning his attention to coordinating his teams through his comm unit. I change and clip the bow to my back.
As I follow the general out, my mind isn’t on the illegal vampires and their violations—they’re just a means to an end. All these years, I’ve been chasing ghosts, collecting fragments of information about the massacre that claimed my father and dozens of others. Every lead has gone cold, every trail vanished into nothing.
But tonight feels different: Revenant showed himself. He spoke to me. After a decade of hunting, he let me get close enough to see his face.
The general wants justice for thirty-seven innocent victims. I want answers about what happened that day, about why my brother chose them over me, about why I’ve spent a decade with this hole in my chest where certainty should be.
“Remember, we need them alive for questioning,” the general says as we are at the point of parting. “The priority is information.”
I nod, but he knows as well as I do that I’m after a different kind of information.
CHAPTER 6
THE EASTERN PERIMETERof Penn City is a stark contrast to its lit and opulent interior, a wasteland of abandoned factories and tattered infrastructure where Northcross never fully took hold—a buffer between civilization and the wilderness beyond. High vampire activity has made this zone too dangerous to develop, pushing back against any attempt at expansion for a while now.
I crouch atop a dilapidated warehouse and pull the shadows into focus, my eyes shifting to accommodate the dark.
The moon hangs low in the sky, casting elongated shadows across the barren landscape. A serrated barbican snakes along the frontier, its surface scarred and pitted from decades of assault. Sections have crumbled entirely, leaving gaping breaches just wide enough for an intruder to slip through. A vampire. Tonight’s attack stands as a silent warning that this line of defense is hard-won but never unchallenged.
My comm crackles to life.
“Team Alpha in position,” a female voice reports. “No movement at the northwest safehouse.”
“Team Bravo,” another chimes in. “Two suspects apprehended at location three. Resistance minimal.”
