Blood and Kisses

chapter 8



“Gideon!” The manager of the Tomb, Tom Delgado, greeted him nervously as they entered. The tavern was curiously empty for a Friday night, but sunset had just fallen. A couple slow-danced alone on the dance floor, several men sat at the bars, sipping imported beer, a couple of witches chatted at one of the high tables.

The Tomb was, in essence, just a large, low-ceilinged chamber with two long bars running the length of the east and west walls. The northern wall sported a low stage and a dance floor. Tall, round tables with high-backed barstools filled the area between the bars and the dance floor. Mirrors lined the walls behind the bars.

The witches occupied the west side of the tavern, the side that held their separate entrance, the vampires the east. No physical barrier defined the two spaces, but each community was careful to stay in their area. Only the humans, mostly unaware of the true nature of the supernatural patrons of the bar, crossed easily back and forth.

Tom had taken over for his father, Antonio, when he’d retired. Cam was his mother. The Delgados had served Gideon since before he’d come to America and were his partners in the tavern. Human, in his early thirties, with spiky black hair and sun-bronzed skin, Tom was one of the few people Gideon trusted.

The man nodded in Thalia’s direction, but swiftly turned his attention back to Gideon.

“The police have been here. Everyone knows you own the bar.”

Gideon sent a wave of calm over his employee. He made it a practice not to manipulate the Delgados mentally, but Tom was unusually agitated. “Don’t worry, Tom. It’s still early. The business will recover. Meanwhile,” He handed Tom a wad of hundreds. “Tell your mother to take a vacation until this blows over.”

Mindful of the few vampires present, Tom lowered his voice. “I’m not worried about the bar! It’s you I’m worried about. Even if you’re not a suspect, all this attention...”

Gideon patted Tom on the shoulder. “I appreciate your concern. But as soon as the rogue is caught, the publicity will die down and everything will return to normal.” Tom took a deep breath and shook his head, shooting him one last doubtful glance as he returned to his duties.

“You have very loyal employees,” Thalia observed as Gideon ushered her to his favorite table and helped her into her seat.

“I pay well.”

Thalia smiled gently. “I’m sure that’s an understatement, but I don’t think that’s why they’re so loyal.” She placed a slim hand on his wrist. He could feel her heat through the Egyptian cotton of his sleeve. It seemed to expand in concentric rings until his whole arm was warm, his shoulder, his torso. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling. Gods, it felt good to be warm.

He fought the urge to cover her hand with his own, reminding himself she had violated his privacy, she was a witch, he didn’t deserve her comfort. The list was endless. But the monster liked warmth as well. The creature flickered to life inside him. He traced the sweet contours of her face with ravenous eyes.

The pliant curve of her lips drew him like a moth to a street lamp. He had tasted that mouth. Her face was soft. Eyelids dropped slightly over aquamarine eyes. He could taste her again. A burst of remembered flavor flowed over his tongue. The potent honey of her mouth made his mouth water.

His body hardened joyously in preparation for an act it must never perform again. The terrible, glorious pain of arousal filled him, but it was not alone. Bloodlust accompanied it. His fangs engorged, descending into his mouth, and he longed for another flavor, the rich pungent taste of blood.

He looked at her hand on his wrist, so fragile, so easily crushed. His earlier vision of her crumpled body flashed into his head. That thought tore him away from the cocoon of desire that enmeshed him. He wasn’t here to enjoy her company, to wallow in her incredible warmth. He was here with her to catch a murderer.



He loved cities. They pulsed and breathed like a giant creature, exhaling noxious fumes with each loathsome breath. And they grew like a tumor, spreading and killing anything natural in their path. In the daytime, there was the illusion of life, people on the streets, flocks of birds, patches of green, but at night... At night, their true natures were revealed, barren deserts of stone and long-dead wood, concrete, and metal. Places so inert, only parasites could thrive. Cities were feeding grounds for those who gorged themselves on the spirit and flesh of the living, thieves, drug dealers, murderers, and of course, himself.

He was the master of this environment.

At present he was content to hide, to take his nourishment and retreat to the shadows. He had the added benefit of watching the police and media spin their wheels, wasting their time searching for a human serial killer, while at the same time bringing the Butcher under suspicion. But as each day passed, the prophecy came closer to fruition and when that happened, he would no longer need to hide.

He ran an absent hand over his scabrous flesh. The Claiming didn’t last as long as it used to. But, no matter, once the prophecy was fulfilled, he would be permanently restored to his former beauty. Of course, he wouldn’t need it. He would no longer be forced to cajole his prey to him. He could seize them openly like the cattle they were.

No one, human or otherwise, would have the power to stop him.



Heath paced in front of the long oval table. “I’m just saying, let me a call a meeting. A test group, if you will.” Heath was in advertising. He studied the faces in front of him. They were buying it.

“I don’t know.” George March chewed the inside of his wrinkled cheeks. “There’s no precedent for this. What about tradition?” He held out a gnarled hand. “If we do this, what’s next? Disband the council?” A ripple of alarmed murmurs skipped through the thirteen people, men and women of all ages and skills, who sat around the rosewood table. They were the council, and George’s words had clearly given them pause.

Heath hurried to rescue his plan. “George, didn’t you tell me yourself, you think there’s something coming?”

The older man nodded his white head, cloudy blue eyes thoughtful. “All the signs point to a possibly catastrophic event.”

“And you’re not the only one who’s predicting such an occurrence. Heidi, Samantha, you told me you felt the same.”

“That’s right.” The two women, identical twins, nodded, but the first one he’d addressed, Heidi, spoke. “We’ve seen a single black crow on our lawn every day this week and that’s only the beginning. Bad omens are everywhere.”

“Whatever it is, there’s no reason to believe Thalia can’t handle it.” George spoke firmly.

Heath opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Heidi said, “I saw her after she helped John Trenton banish that demon.” She looked avidly around the table as if eager to share such juicy gossip. “She could barely walk.” She gave George a pointed look.

“I can’t say I’ve never been drained after a spell,” George countered.

“But not for days afterwards, and you’re not the Champion,” Heidi said. “The Champion has always been the strongest of us.”

“I like Thalia.” Heath swept the group with fervent eyes. “But everything in me says that we are way beyond curse-breaking here. The Kent blood has thinned. It’s time to let someone new have a chance.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to preempt Thalia when she’s never failed.” George put both hands on the table and leaned over the table toward Heath. “If she fails, then someone else can take over.”

“If she fails, there may not be anyone left to take over.”



Thalia craned her neck trying to estimate how many people stood around her, hands cupped around sweating drinks, voices raised to be heard over the din. The bar was full to the rafters.

Thalia didn’t think she’d ever seen so many people at the Bell, Book, and Candle. The newspaper coverage seemed to have had a reverse effect from what she had thought it would. Far from frightening people away, it seemed to have brought new customers out of the woodwork.

The stools at both bars were occupied, as were the tables. It was standing room only for everyone else. The dance floor was so packed she didn’t see how anyone could dance.

The female vampire Gideon was speaking with ran a hand down his arm, dark eyes glinting beneath raven lashes. She was practically devouring him. Thalia turned away. Really, did they have no shame? It was embarrassing.

She waved a stiff paper coaster in front of her flushed face. Heavens, it was hot. Was the air conditioning even running? The heat of so many bodies was almost overwhelming.

She took a sip of her ginger ale. The ice had melted, making it watery, but it was wet, and she took another swallow while she surveyed the room. A haze of cigarette smoke hung over the crowd, thicker on the eastern side of the bar. The vampire half. Witches rarely smoked. After all, they weren’t already dead. She didn’t have to ask how the vampires got away with breaking the ban.

It was likely that somewhere in this noisy throng was the creature who’d stolen Lily’s life, and those of at least two others.

And he would strike again. From what Gideon had told her, the rogue had no other choice. A weighty sense of doom settled over her, pressing against her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs. Three women dead already. Women whose only crime was their relationship with her.

Relationships that, at least in the case of the last two victims, were tenuous at best.

Because the list of Thalia’s non-witch acquaintances was small, she and Gideon had planned to keep an eye on any of the human pettys that also frequented the bar, but with such a crowd... How could she even know who to watch? Nor did she know how the vampire knew her connection with the victims, when even she hadn’t been aware she knew the second victim.

She closed her eyes against the pain and guilt. She couldn’t sit here any longer. She set down her drink and jumped off of her stool. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.”

The restrooms at the Bell, Book, and Candle were simply labeled “Women” and “Men,” but someone had long ago written “witches” and “mages” crudely above each sign.

Vampires didn’t need bathrooms, although the females sometimes used the mirrors to primp. Some human habits died hard.

The ladies’ room had an antechamber for just that purpose. A sort of lounge decorated in twenties-era style with a large gilt mirror, flowered wallpaper, and a pink velvet settee guarded by two stuffed chairs. For all Thalia knew it had been decorated in the Twenties. It’d looked the same for as long as she could remember.

Three young witches, two brunettes and a blonde, were using that part of the restroom, brushing their hair and applying lipstick in front of the mirror.

They didn’t look up as Thalia slipped past them, through the arch, into the back room that contained the stalls. Out of their view, their chatter, merely background noise in her ears, she splashed water on her face and ran some over her wrists. She turned off the faucet and took a paper towel from the dispenser, drying her face.

“...the Champion.” Hearing her title, she froze.

“I know we’re not supposed to look at them, but oh my God he’s handsome! I wouldn’t mind investigating something with him,” one of the women said suggestively. The other two tittered in response.

“Do you remember Jana? She dated a vampire.” Scandalized gasps met this confession. Thalia thought about ducking out, but something wouldn’t let her leave. “She really liked him and,” the speaker lowered her voice slightly for a moment, “apparently the sex was unbelievable.” Her volume rose. “But they couldn’t go anywhere together, and she said he got really frustrated that he couldn’t take her blood. What finally split them up, though, was that Jana got a gray hair.”

“That’s shallow.”

“He claimed her didn’t want to see her age because he knew he’d lose her.” The woman accented the “claimed” and sing-songed the rest, implying his words were probably a convenient lie. “Jana was so devastated she left the state.”

“Think Gideon and the Champion are sleeping together?” More laughter.

“Please! What would he see in her?”

A knot formed in Thalia’s stomach. Damn. She should’ve left when she’d had the chance.

“Hey, she really helped me out once!” Thalia suddenly recognized the speaker. It was the blonde, Ashley Trenton. And if that was so, the other two must be Maureen Smith and Kimmy Simpson. The three were always together, so much so they were referred to as the three musketeers.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Senior year I started to have these horrible dreams. I dreamt a monster was stalking me.”

“Ooh, Nightmare on Edgemere Drive.”

“Hey.”

Thalia heard the thump of a tiny slap.

“It was really scary! They got worse and worse until I couldn’t sleep at all. I was falling asleep at school. Do you remember when I overslept and missed the SAT’s? Finally, my mom took me to see Thalia. It was just after she became the Champion. She found out Kit Van Sant, you know that guy I wouldn’t date in high school, was manipulating my dreams to get back at me.”

“What a jerk! What happened?”

“She put a binding spell on him. He barely recognized me the next day. And then one time my older brother accidentally summoned that demon while attempting a spell.”

“Your brother is such a moron! Still, she’s not exactly on Gideon Damek’s level.”

“No one’s on his level. Anyway, I feel sorry for her...” A burst of music, the soft swish of the door, and the sudden quiet that followed told Thalia they’d left.

She studied her face in the mirror above the sink. Under the florescent lights, her features were taut and drawn, her mouth pinched.

Ashley felt sorry for her? The knot in her stomach swelled, doubling its size and another germinated in her throat. She preferred the others’ scorn. She could handle that.

She let a long sigh empty her lungs. They said eavesdroppers never heard anything good. It was amazing how often “they” were right. She took a small comb from her purse, brushed out her hair and put it back in her customary pony-tail, stalling to give the other women enough time to get away, then made her way back to the table.

She wished she were like Lily. Lily would have marched right out and made some witty comment. A virulent ache stung her throat.

As she sat down across from Gideon, she became abruptly aware of a malevolent energy present in her mind. It was subtle, a petty would never have noticed, but there nonetheless. She struggled to keep the strange entity ignorant of her discovery, focusing the surface of her thoughts on her grief, while at the same time scanning the crowd for the source.

Who, or what, was it? Was it the rogue or some new unknown threat? She took another sip of her drink, attempting to look oblivious. She didn’t dare try to get Gideon’s attention.

She shifted casually in her barstool, trying to get a look at the mirror behind the bar. She searched the faces of the patrons, all the time knowing it was probably useless. If it were the rogue and he was in the bar, he would cloak his appearance with an illusion of innocence, purity even.

She sent a tendril of magic into the room. A simple reveal spell intended to allow her to see through any glamour spells being used in the room. She prayed it would work against vampires.

She rechecked the mirror. Several mages across the room no longer sported full heads of hair. Numerous witches had had a sudden weight gain. Almost every magic user on the west side of the bar was just a bit less attractive than he or she had seemed a few moments earlier. She had had no idea glamours were so casually used. Still, she supposed everyone wanted to look his or her best on a Friday night. She touched her mark. If she had been an ordinary witch, she might have spared the energy to sustain such a spell.

The malignant being hovering in her mind began to fade. In seconds it was gone. Had it left the building, as well? Was it even now following a potential victim?

Gideon, Thalia spoke telepathically. With so many vampires around, it would be impossible to keep their conversation secret. Gideon gave no outward sign he had heard, but he dismissed the predatory blonde, who stalked off with a pout. He turned to Thalia.

What is it?

I just felt something. I don’t know what it was, but it was definitely evil. It’s gone now. If it’s the vampire, I think it may have gone after a victim.

Gideon stood. Let’s go.



He could feel the Butcher and the witch drawing closer. Perhaps his time had come?

He let the empty husk drop to the ground next to the corpse of her witch friend. These two he wouldn’t bother to move. They were well hidden among the trash bags and cans in the alley. Unless... An idea came to him. Yes, that would be perfect.

If he didn’t fulfill the prophecy tonight, he would come back later for one of the bodies.

He dragged the vast power of the Claiming from deep within and used it to cover himself in a cloak of invisibility.

This was going to be fun.



Gideon? Thalia asked as they stepped out onto the brick sidewalk. Do you feel that?

He nodded his head slowly. The sensation they were being observed by something powerful and evil crawled over him. He reached out with his mind, hunting for the source of the feeling. It seemed to be everywhere, and nowhere.

Layers of deception concealed the entity. He peeled back one putrid strata only to encounter more. He felt as if he were excavating a dung heap. Each descending level clung to him like an acidic web, burning and stinging. The strands throbbed with evil intent, tainting him, summoning the monster within, but still he worked.

Sweat bloomed on his forehead as he focused. His muscles strained in sympathy with his mind. Finally, he could discern a hint of the being’s true nature. It was a vampire. One of the most ancient and powerful he had ever encountered. A true adept, who, Gideon sensed, was toying with them at the moment. And he sensed something else.

“We’re too late. He’s already fed,” Gideon growled. Fury surged from deep within him. The demon inside savored the feeling even as it strained at its leash, fighting for release. Gideon drew strength from the raging monster within.

Thalia let out an audible sigh, a whisper full of sadness and resignation. She reached out to touch him, but he shook his head, warning her off.

Whoever this powerful ancient was, he was stalking them.

Gideon needed every scrap of concentration he could muster if they were to get out of this alive.

He pushed Thalia behind him. Go back into the bar, he ordered.

He knew from the complexity of the rogue’s defenses that this vampire was as old as he was and, enhanced by his recent Claiming, probably the most dangerous vampire he had ever fought. He had no choice.

As much as he hated for her to see his true self, he was going to let the demon have full rein.