Keystone (Crossbreed #1)

The Vampire kept his black eyes on me, the intensity of his gaze molten. A shadow of rogue whiskers trailed beneath his jaw as if they were trying to escape the flock.

He looped one of the onion rings around his index finger and offered me a sardonic smile. “Perhaps another time, precious. Good luck with the scavenger hunt.”





Chapter 2





I’m not sure why I’d embraced the life of a nomad, but the novelty was wearing thin. It used to be liberating to go anywhere I wanted and not worry about bills, gas, or rent. Immortals didn’t need to trouble themselves with health insurance or wrinkle creams. But living out of a green duffel bag wasn’t a glamorous life, and neither was washing my clothes in a restroom sink because I didn’t have enough coins to operate a washer.

My human life was ancient history, and without being able to use my real name or social security number, I couldn’t get a job even if I tried. My options were limited to the Breed world, where most people held jobs specific to their skills, and I don’t just mean running a business or managing finances. Most Chitahs I knew were trackers because of their acute sense of smell, and I’d heard that Sensors made their money in the business of sensory exchange—buying and selling emotions for cash. I really didn’t know for certain. Despite our differences from humans, it seemed like most people wanted the same things. A secure future, a job, and—depending on your Breed—family. Even if I applied for a job, no one was going to hire a crossbreed. Most people didn’t think someone like me existed. People are afraid of what they don’t understand, so in order to keep a low profile, I lied about my Breed and didn’t make friends.

Being part Mage posed an even greater threat. Each Breed has its own form of government or law, and the Mageri catalogues every Mage legally created. They also require that every new Mage live with his or her Creator until granted their independence. If they found out about me, I could wind up in serious trouble. And I had no idea how Vampire elders ran things, so fear kept me a rogue.

I sat on the back of the toilet tank, my shoes on the seat, staring at my wet dress that hung on the stall hook. Unfortunately, the only hand dryer in the bathroom was broken.

After leaving the Breed bar on an empty stomach, I’d found the nearest human club where I could wash the cheese stain off my dress and relax. Since there weren’t many cars in the parking lot, I figured it would be a good spot to chill for a little while. I’d hidden my duffel bag nearby; most humans thought people carrying large bags into a public place were terrorists. Human clubs were safe places, and unless I instigated a fight, I never had trouble. I still brought one of my push daggers with me just in case; the leg holster was looped around the hook on the door, hidden behind the dress. Most of the weapons I owned were ones I’d taken from my victims—trophies from battle.

I tugged at the frayed threads surrounding the hole in my jeans.

I’d give anything to have a bed right now. To be able to curl up with a blanket over my head until the misery of the Mage’s dark energy left my body, but I had no place to call home. In the summertime, I climbed onto rooftops to sleep under the stars. Any high place I could gain access to felt like home and separated me from the dangers of the city. But tonight the heavy rain would make it difficult to find a dry place to sleep, especially with the storm drains overflowing and flooding the streets.

I never thought I could feel so damn lonely, but the weight of it pressed down with each passing year. I sometimes thought about it in the daytime when people were having lunch with friends or shopping with their children, but the melancholy feeling often struck me in the late hours of the night.

Being a bounty hunter wouldn’t be such a bad gig. But who would hire me? I had no credentials, and if the higher authority figured out who I was and arrested me, I’d have no one to come to my rescue.

Imagining this as my life for the next five centuries was terrifying—no one had prepared me for immortality. But whenever I found myself wallowing in solitude, reality would intrude, reminding me that settling down would only make it easier for a certain someone to find me, and that someone was the reason why I had to keep moving and stay in the shadows.

I rubbed my eyes, staring down at the bathroom tile. The only thing I wanted was to get through the night without any more drama.

“Is it empty?” a man asked in a low register.

I cocked my head, wondering if I’d accidentally wandered into the men’s bathroom. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Someone’s clothes rustled, and a second voice with a scratchy tone answered. “It’s clear. The stalls are empty.”