Page 4 of Tainted Souls
The dhampir always kept to herself, but not without leaving ripples in her wake. When she moved back to Penn City, Helene flagged her file right away—a former Redmoore slayer with a complicated history and identity, now supposedly retired from vampire slaying, only to go bounty hunting instead. People like her never truly retire. Helene just couldn’t figure out what it is that she’s after, until now.
Revenge.
“Why would the Ravens protect someone who wants them dead?” Helene asks, trying to connect the dots.
“Think about it. She must have been spared back then for a reason. Everyone was slaughtered, but she lived. It may not be that they haven’t been able to kill her…” The implication hangs in the air like a blade.
“They don’t want to,” Helene says, understanding dawning on her.
Rong makes a noise of approval, signaling his assent. “From what I have gathered about the Ravens, they tend to play thelong game, leave no witnesses, and are very meticulous with their crimes—so much so that some even think they’re a myth, operating in shadows so deep that even Redmoore has trouble finding them.”
Helene takes a sharp turn, her tires screeching against the pavement. “Why would they want her alive, despite her wanting them dead?” she thinks out loud, her mind racing with the possibilities. “Could they be trying to recruit her? Planning their next massacre? Someone with her combat skills and physiology would be quite the asset.”
“That,” Rong says, “is the million-credit question. Recruitment is a feasible explanation. After all, there’s no better weapon against us than one of our own. Someone who knows our protocols, our weaknesses, and our blind spots. They’ve already managed to reel in her brother.”
“She wouldn’t willingly join them. She’s dedicated her entire life to hunting them,” Helene asserts, but doubt kicks in her stomach.
“Willing is relative when you’ve been psychologically primed,” he remarks. “Tonight’s attack might just be a distraction while the Ravens make their real move. They could’ve even been the ones tipping us off. It could be an attempt to win her loyalty by posing as her saviors, or offer power, purpose, belonging—all the things that she might crave after everything she’s lost. If they succeed and she flips, Penn City becomes exponentially more vulnerable.”
Helene goes silent, absorbing the urgency of the situation. If Rong is right, they’re caught in the middle of a vampire clan power struggle, with Penn City as their battleground.
“Do we have a location?” she asks, scanning the streets ahead.
“Last intel put on her was at some underground bar in the entertainment district. I’m heading there now.”
“Great. Understood. I’m approaching the attack site. Keep me updated on the dhampir situation.”
“Yes, Chief.”
Helene kills the engine, the radio cutting with it, and reaches for her revolver from the glove compartment. Its tungsten rounds are able to tear through vampire flesh like paper—overkill for Pennian vampires, but standard issue for wild ones.
She steps out of her car onto the abandoned sidewalk, the night sky seeming darker somehow, the stars dimmer. From the corner of her eye, she spots a puddle of black, viscous mud. No, not mud.
Vitae—vampire blood, black as night—unlike anything human.
Her thumb presses the safety latch on her handgun, disengaging it with a sharp click as she steps forward.
Then she sees them, figures moving too fast for human eyes to track, darting between buildings with preternatural speed.
This city prides itself on being different, a place where humans and vampires coexist through mutual respect and strict regulations. The council chambers are filled with debates about symbiotic rights and responsibilities, about how their city will lead the world into a new era of peace.
But peace is always fragile.
And tonight, it might just shatter completely.
CHAPTER 1
FROM THEUMBRAGEOUS LIPof the cavern, the vampire snarls—a sound meant to promise pain. Dried human blood stains the corners of his mouth, his fangs bared in a desperate attempt at intimidation.
He must have had a long day, stuck in the shadows while the sun scorched the world clean. And now, just as the moon is granting him his freedom, he’s about to step straight into my bowstring’s line.
When I twirl the arrow between my fingers, the crystal tip catching what little moonlight filters through the sprawling boughs above me, his pupils dilate with fear.
Good. He should be afraid.
With a powerful leap, I spring from the tree, descending toward the fanged creature. As I plunge, I nock and release faster than he can react. The arrow zooms through the twilight air and buries itself at the base of his throat. It’s not a killing hit, but enough to paralyze.
He drops to his knees, eyes wide with shock.
