Rival (12 page)

Down the street, roughly two blocks
over, I see five vamps circling someone.

The human—their prey—kicks and spins,
barely holding them off.

I catch a glimpse of her profile, and I
have to concentrate to keep my expression neutral, every muscle
still.

It's her.

The Chaser's sister.

The girl I've been dreaming about
fighting for a month and a half.

Rachel Marie Campton.

I only know her name because I heard
her idiot brother yell it after her that sunny afternoon when I hid
away in the family mausoleum. I don't think she ever actually spoke
to me.

But she fought like a lunatic, as
though she had nothing to lose, as though she didn't care if she
lived or died.

Like me.

Seeing her again is enough to make this
old warrior's heart speed up.

Why haven't I been able to forget
her?

And why is she here now?
Alone?

I don't know why the General has
brought me here to watch, but he never does anything without
reason.

Everything in me is cranked up, tuned
in, as I watch her. My heart is choked up in my throat; my hands
have gone sweaty. I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s a physical
reaction from the memory of going up against her, or my brain
playing a trick on me as if I’m down there fighting against her
now.

It’s obvious she’s tiring. She’s left
her right flank vulnerable. That’s a misstep.

One of the vamps gets in a blow to her
left leg and knocks her forward.

The fact that she's been able to hold
all five of them off for any length of time is
impressive.

I can't tear my eyes away as she turns
the stumble into a hop-kick and nails one in the gut. But two more
circle behind her.

"I want you to make it up to me," the
General says suddenly.

Watching her, I'd almost forgotten his
presence. Mistake.

Or what?
That’s my immediate, irreverent thought. I've
always had a problem with authority. I don't voice it, though. I
don't have a death wish.

Rachel strikes with a silver flash—a
knife?—and nearly decapitates one of the vamps.

She's not that great a fighter. She's a
girl, so there are height and weight issues, but what she lacks in
technique, she makes up in spades with her passion.

She has guts.

I can't believe I'm admiring a Chaser,
but there it is. Plus, she's hot.

When the General doesn't say anything
else, I voice the unspoken but obvious. "You want me to kill
her?"

"No." There is a sick kind of
satisfaction in his voice.

Three of the vamps converge on her,
taking her to the ground.

"I want you to watch her."

No one says 'no' to the
General
.

Something inside me roars as one of the
vamps slits her throat and blood pours.

I hold perfectly still, denying the
flash of intense pain. How can someone so vital be
dying?

Then another vamp steps up to her,
marking her cheeks and forehead with blood. I can’t hear the words
he seems to be saying, but I’m familiar enough with what he’s
doing.

They're
turning
her? Making her one of
us?

I break, ready to demand something—I
don’t know what—of the General. But when I turn to confront him, he
has disappeared completely.

Probably wise, since the edge of the
sky is turning gray. My skin prickles hot, a warning to get inside
and take cover. It only takes seconds for vampires to burn to death
in the sunlight, and I usually don’t risk coming outdoors this
close to sunrise.

What did he mean, "watch her"? Watch
what happened to her? Or watch her in a larger sense? As in, take
care of her?

I clatter down the stairwell, briefly
considering whether I should stay inside this abandoned building or
try and return to the barracks.

But I find myself hauling it toward the
attack I’d just witnessed. The other vampires are gone. Likely they
completed the General’s mission and left.

There’s a trail of blood across the
pavement, leading to an alley between two buildings. Her blood. I
can tell by the unique scent. There’s an industrial trash bin that
she could be hiding behind.

The sun is close. I’m out of
time.

I hole up in the closest building,
leaving her behind.

In this abandoned area, no one will
come for her. She’ll be weak and disoriented. Not fully a vampire
for several more hours, maybe after dusk, so the sunlight isn’t a
danger to her. Only to me.

If the General has some reason for
keeping her around, she won’t be a target.

But why…?

I can't sleep, haunted by questions
about his intentions and her coming reaction once she realizes what
has happened to her.

I pace between two large, empty
interior rooms, pitch dark to protect me from the sun. I don't need
sight—I can rely on my extra-keen hearing and the hyper-sensitivity
of touch to know where the walls are.

What is the General playing at? There's
no way he could've known I had some kind of weird connection to
Rachel. I've heard of warlocks that can sense thoughts—Rachel's
little sister, the witch, apparently could—but not a
vamp.

So is this some kind of
test?

I can't help remembering the night I
was turned. The cold ground beneath me. The blood. My
disorientation, the choking fear.

It's eerie how Rachel's situation
mirrors mine. Had the General chosen her for that reason? I haven't
publicized my past, and most of the vamps that were present when it
happened aren't around any longer, and I doubt they’d have told
him, anyway. Not that it matters. He seems to know
everything.

What was Rachel doing here in London,
anyway? Where was her brother? Had she crossed the Atlantic
alone?

Why?

It's a good thing vamps need little
sleep, because my swirling thoughts refuse to quiet. It’s the
longest day I’ve faced in awhile.

3 - Alex

Just after dusk, I emerge from my
seclusion, and I’m immediately arrested by the scent of her blood
soaking into my nostrils, my pores.

Did she survive the turning?

Once again, I notice something off
about the scent, but it’s nothing I can pinpoint.

She stands in the centre of the street,
facing away from me. Perfectly still. Is she even
breathing?

I've got it in my head that I'm going
to help her somehow, but she whirls in my direction, her dark blond
braid whipping over her shoulder. Her brown eyes flash.
"You."

Part of me wishes she knew my name, but
I'd be mad to think she even remembers me. I know she hasn't been
thinking about me the way I've been obsessing over her. Replaying
every single slash of her sword, reliving that moment when I held
her slender waist in my hands.

There's gore covering her shirt. Once
again, it takes me back to my own turning. I shake away the
memory.

"Where's your kid witch?" I growl. I
don't want to chance running into the brother, not when this has
happened to his sister. And where the little witch is, there the
brother will be too.

Her eyes flash. For a second, she looks
almost… grateful. "Not here." Then the hatred returns to her
eyes.

Bollocks. The girl is
crazy-angry.

Don't get me wrong, I would fight her
if she came at me. It's fun to go against an opponent who can
really challenge me. Plus, I'm not actually going to hurt her—just
wait for a good opportunity to teach her which side she's on
now.

She reaches to her thigh—reaching for a
dagger?—but her hand slaps against the empty leather strap and she
comes up frustrated.

I can't help the grin that spreads
across my lips. "Not armed, princess?"

I've got one knife taped to the inside
of my ankle. I won't have to use it. I keep it as a last resort.
With a vampire's superior strength and speed, I don't really need
weapons.

But this bird is angry, and there might
be a slight—very slight—chance I'll need it.

I haven't felt as alive as I do this
very moment in ages. Perhaps not since I was turned.

She squares off with me,
unafraid.

It fires my blood.

She launches herself at me, surprising
me a little with how fast she flies at me, fists first. I knock her
back with an elbow and I kick, intending to sweep her legs out from
under her.

She jumps back. Again with the
speed.

We circle each other, almost like a
dance.

She's lithe and intense…

And hot.

This time, I rush her. I grab a fistful
of her braid and wrench her neck back. It has to hurt, but she
doesn't cry out, only huffs a cute little exhale and twists under
my arm, as far as she can go while I'm holding her.

She jabs me in the ribs, and I actually
feel it. That's a surprise. Usually my opponents don't get close
enough to inflict pain.

I grunt.

She knees me in the thigh. It hurts,
and I curse her.

She laughs. It's a little
maniacal-sounding, but her eyes are still flashing. She's as
excited by this fight as I am.

I've still got hold of her hair, and I
twist her head cruelly. She shrieks, more angry than hurt, and
tries to pummel me in the chest with both fists. This close, her
position allows me to let go of her braid and wrap both of my arms
all the way around her. It's almost like a hug, except I've got her
wrapped so tightly, she can't move at all.

She can't get enough space to kick me,
her arms are pinned to my chest, and we're face-to-face. So
close.

"Where's the rest of your entourage?" I
ask.

I've got the advantage, but I know she
hasn't given up yet.

"I'm alone."

There are shadows behind her eyes when
she says the words. It makes me wonder what's going on with Maggie.
My cousin might be squarely on the "good guys" side, but I've never
known her to desert a friend.

Even when they deserve it. Like
me.

"Too bad for you."

She surprises me by wrenching one arm
free, grabbing the back of my neck and doing a dead-drop. With just
a half-second of momentum on me, she flips me over.

I lose my hold on her, she twists, and
somehow, I end up on the ground looking up at the sky. She pins me
with her palms against my shoulders.

She leans forward, baring her teeth at
me. What is she doing?

If she decapitates me, it's game over.
Does she not realize we're on the same side now?

She doesn't stop.

"Hey!"

My shout doesn't even register. She's
on a kill mission.

I buck her off and we scramble. I yank
my knife from its sheath and spin to face her. I'm not dying
tonight, no matter what the General ordered me to do.

We dance around each other
again.

“
We’re on the same side,
princess—”

She doesn’t seem to hear me. She darts
forward, unafraid of the knife, and uppercuts me in the jaw. My
ears actually ring.

But I'm much bigger and stronger, and I
have more experience fighting than she does. I swing the knife, and
it connects.

She staggers backward, clutching her
stomach. Fresh blood seeps through her fingers. She looks
stunned.

For a human, it would be a
death-wound.

Why do I suddenly feel the ringing in
my ears, worse than before?

She drops to her knees, still glaring
at me. What have I done?

Then, with obvious effort, she draws
herself back to her feet.

She curses at me.

As I watch, the very shape of her face
changes, sharpens. She hisses at me, and I can see her elongated
canines through her parted lips.

Her vamp is as hot as the rest of
her.

But judging by the flash in her eyes,
she's still pissed at me. Time to change the game.

Shadow Allegiance
releases December 15, 2013.

If you want to be the first
to know when it hits shelves, sign up for my email blast
here:
http://bit.ly/1cDgKWT
.

If you missed the story
that started it all,
Unholy
Alliance
,
turn
the page…

Prologue -
Maggie

More than one hundred and fifty years
on this planet and this is the strangest night I’ve spent
yet.

Strange
good
, because I’ve never been this
happy before. Normally I worry too much about getting involved with
humans, male or female, to let go and enjoy myself. But tonight I
can’t seem to find that usual wariness.