Soul Taker

Karen Michelle Nutt

Smashwords Edition

Soul Taker

Presented by
Publishing by Rebecca J.
Vickery

Copyright 2013 Karen Michelle Nutt

Cover Art Copyright 2013 Karen Michelle
Nutt

Design Consultation Laura Shinn

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Thank you for respecting the hard work of the
author.

Soul Taker
is a work of
fiction. Though actual locations may be mentioned, they are used in
a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were invented in
the mind and imagination of the author except for the inclusion of
actual historical facts. Similarities of characters or names used
within to any person – past, present, or future – are coincidental
except where actual historical characters are purposely
interwoven.

Dedicated to Johanna Nutt, who lived a
century, witnessing changes most of us can only imagine. We'll miss
your sweet smile.

December 31, 1911 – June 11, 2012

Soul Taker

No soul is safe…

A vampire from the Grim Sith sept is sucking
the souls out of young women from the Boston area, but this
sinister crime is far worse than a vampire seeking substance. He's
selling the souls to the highest bidder and it seems business is
booming.

A vampire, a werewolf, and a Necromancer are
a most unlikely team, but Garran, Harrison, and Isabella plan on
putting a kink in the
dubbed
Soul Taker's plans. It's
personal now. One of their friends has fallen victim to the Soul
Taker's charms, but to stop him from hurting anyone else, their
efforts may involve raising the
dead.

Chapter One

The moment Sanya entered the bar, Garran
MacLaurin's scent slammed into her, causing the icy fear to twist
at her heart. Through the throng of patrons' laughter and carrying
on as they drank themselves into oblivion, she spotted him. He sat
alone in the back, beneath the dim overhead lights. She immediately
scanned the bar looking for his furry sidekick, Harrison Connell.
She didn't see him, but she would bet the werewolf lurked somewhere
close
.

Sanya concentrated on MacLaurin again. He
appeared relaxed as if he enjoyed the Irish band's poor rendition
of
Danny Boy
. Good, he hadn't noticed her...
yet.

She backed up a step, then turned and headed
for the side door. Once in the alley, she took off at a brisk walk,
not wanting to draw attention by shimmering and leaving a
preternatural trail. She silently cursed herself for wearing her
three-inch stilettos. She should have never bought the darn things,
even though they were the perfect shade to go with her slinky red
dress. She looked good in red. It flattered her long dark hair and
strong Spanish features. Men drooled to be near her and it had
nothing to do with her vampire allure. However, these beautiful
shoes weren't meant for an evening jog.

She had a good thing going in Boston and she
wasn't going to be run out of town just because it was time to
switch leaderships again. The rule was every twenty-five years
territories exchanged hands. It kept the humans from becoming
suspicious when their neighbors didn't age as they did. She was in
Boston during the roaring twenties, again in the early
eighties—which was the last time MacLaurin ruled with Harrison at
his side. She and MacLaurin had a thing for each other back then,
but that was history.

MacLaurin was a Grim Sith, created by a
Baobhan Sith, one of the most vicious vampires in Scotland.
However, MacLaurin ruled his territory with rigid rules that made a
vampire want to cut off her head just to end the misery. She had
hoped the rumors of MacLaurin's return were false. Tonight, told
her otherwise.

Sanya didn't slow her pace as she thought of
her escape route out of Boston. MacLaurin's home base was here,
even though his rule also covered most of Massachusetts.

Maybe she'd head over to Salem for a few
weeks. Give MacLaurin a chance to cool off. By now he would have
heard about her little mistake.

She rounded the corner and skidded to a stop,
panic rioting through her veins. The sanctimonious jerk knew she'd
been at the bar after all. He stood there with his arms folded
against his chest and leaning against the brick building in a
nonchalant manner.

Her tongue slipped out, licking her suddenly
dry lips. "I didn't know you were in town," she lied, trying to
bide some time. She took a step back, fighting the urge to run.
Fleeing would give MacLaurin all the more reason to chase her. It
was all about the hunt with predators. Something she understood all
too well, being she was a vampire, too.

"I may have believed ye, darlin', if ye
hadn't slinked out the back door of Tony's Pub." Garran MacLaurin's
Scottish roll of the tongue was sexy and menacing all in one. The
man stood six-five with light hair and eyes. He looked about
twenty-five if not a day older, but if she remembered right, he'd
been made back when broadswords were all the rage.

Her gaze slid over him, trying to imagine
what he would have looked like in a kilt.
Yeah, damn good
,
she thought and shook her head. And now…some might find him
attractive in his worn blue jeans, T-shirt and duster, but he
scowled most of the time, making his strong angular features
fierce. She'd let the other
chicas
have him.

She backed up another step. "A girl's gotta
eat, Garran."

"Sanya, ye know where ye can obtain the blood
ye need."

"Pig's blood," she spat. "I sooner
starve."

"Ye should have stuck with that plan then."
His eyes glowed with intent as he stalked her. "I don't appreciate
havin' to clean up after ye."

"One or two little ol' mistakes. Are you
going to hold them against me?" Sanya nervously chuckled.

He was so fast. She didn't even blink and he
was there in front of her. His hand snaked out, grabbing her arm
and pulling her against him. "Oh aye," he hissed baring his
fangs.

Sanya couldn't help whimpering, expecting him
to sink his sharp teeth into her, ripping out her throat. It was
the way it was often done if an
Otherworldly being
overstepped in the head honcho's territory. The ruler of the
territory set the rules and all his subjects must follow.

MacLaurin was like an avenging angel…or
rather devil. She bit back the urge to chuckle. Yes, he was more
like a Fallen Angel with his
'my way or suffer'
protocol.
Damn him. MacLaurin didn't stake out a territory for hunting. He
watched over it and protected the food source instead of indulging
in it. Why couldn't one of the vampires, who partook in sampling
humans now and again, be in charge? Even a demon ruler would be
better than MacLaurin.

MacLaurin's large hand cupped her face, his
gaze sliding over her slowly as if memorizing each of her features.
She hated to plead, but she didn't want to go out like this.
"Please, Garran, you're one of us."

"One of us? How charmin'." His eyebrows rose
in mock pretense.

"Sure, you're a vampire even if you were
infected with—"

He put a finger over her lips, silencing her.
She struggled to be free from him, but his grip tightened. She
closed her eyes, but instead of him taking her throat, he kissed
her.

Something in the back of her mind screamed to
fight him, but her body wouldn't listen. She began to relax as his
tongue coaxed her to open up to him. She let him devour her mouth
and she took too, enjoying this little turn of events. She was a
little disoriented when his mouth left hers.

"I'm sorry, Sanya," he whispered.

Before she could decipher what he meant, she
felt a sharp pain in her chest. Her eyes widened in surprise as
fear and anger knotted inside her. He actually had done it. She had
heard rumors he would seduce his victims, not unlike what she would
do to a human, but she
wasn't
human. She hadn't been one
since the Spanish Inquisition had its first
auto-da-fé
held
in Seville in 1481. Sanya was older than Garran and should be able
to take him, but his determination to follow his creed of right and
wrong proved stronger.

She could withstand most attacks and heal.
Vampires from every sept were virtually immortal unless beheaded or
stabbed through the heart. Garran's hands bit into her arms,
pinning them to the side. She waited, expecting to explode into
dust as legend claimed. "What's happening?" she stammered, fear
gripping her insides.

MacLaurin brushed aside a strand of hair from
her face. "Ye didn't believe a stake would actually kill ye, did
ye?"

"Yes, I did, you bas—"

"Watch it, lass," he interrupted her attempt
at a colorful metaphor. He took an exaggerated breath and shook his
head. "A stake through the heart only paralyzes a vampire, while
letting the vampire have a full function of his or her thoughts and
speech. Did ye know the ancients would bury a vampire, leave them
to contemplate their sins while the rats and bugs ate at their
flesh? Quite painful I hear, but alas a vampire heals and the
process repeats all over again the next night and the next...
forever."

Sanya tried to make her limbs move, but to no
avail. "Please, you wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

"I believe ye need to learn a lesson,
Sanya."

She heard a vehicle screech to a halt beside
the curb and a door opened and shut.

"Are you ready to move her?"

Sanya recognized Connell's voice. She'd known
Garran's dog wouldn't be too far behind.

"I believe I'm finished with her," Garran
said as he slid his arms beneath her legs and lifted her up to
cradle her against his chest.

She had to think. She had to think of
something that would save her.

He tossed her in the back of the van like
trash going to the dumpsite.

"Wait!" She did have something.

"Give me a good reason why I should be
listenin' to ye."

"I know what happened to the last governor of
Otherworldy business."

"Go on." Garran nodded. "I'd wondered why
Franco Meridos hadn't been here to greet me."

"Uh, yeah… He was working with a new vamp.
They had a falling out."

"So?" Garran's right brow rose as if bored
with the news.

"Franco lost." She tried to gage MacLaurin's
reaction to the news. He didn't even flinch. The jerk already knew
Franco was dust. "The new vamp's claiming to be the new leader of
this territory now," she hurried to say. "He's like you, too."

Garran's hands gripped her shoulders and
pulled her up so he could look her in the eyes. "What do ye mean
like me?"

"He's from Scotland, if his brogue is any
indication. He looks like an angel, but… there's something dark in
him. He takes sucking the life out of his victims to a new level."
She chuckled with admiration. "I've never seen anything like it. He
has to be one of the creations from the she-devil septs from
overseas. It's almost like watching an incubus at work, but with an
evil twist. You know the uncouth kind that seduces their prey,
sucks their life source before ripping them to shreds." If she
could, she would have shrugged, but her limbs would not obey even
the slightest gesture. "See, I'm not so bad. At least, if they
aren't turned, there's something left of my prey for the grieving
family to bury."

The side of Garran's cheek pulsed as if he
clenched his teeth.

Maybe she shouldn't have added that last
part.