S. Harper - Cursed

Next thing I know, I’m pinned to the wall. My feet are barely touching the floor. My arms are being held high above my head.

By an extremely old and pissed-off vampire.

This vampire’s strength is like none I’ve ever encountered. The Glock falls from my hand and clatters to the floor. Before I can get a good look at him, his face is buried in the crook of my neck. His nose travels from the spot just behind my ear, to the top of my shoulder, skimming along the surface of my skin. He hesitates for a fraction of a second along the way, and I shudder. The involuntary response, a testament to his power and my fear, pleases him. I feel him smile against my collarbone.

He slowly pulls back, his face just inches from mine.

I realize I’ve seen him before. Twice.

First at Liz’s.

Then going into the Blood Eemporium in the Gaslamp District.

The man in black.

“A Siren. Remarkable,” he whispers, a quiet reverence to his tone.

That voice. A rumbling baritone. Familiar. Unmistakable. Simon’s “boss.”

He’s as tall as Zack, maybe slightly taller. His muscles are leaner, his face thinner, the cheekbones are more defined. Shoulder-length black hair hangs loose in waves framing his oval-shaped face and clear blue eyes.

My mouth is dry. He sees through the glamour. I swallow. “You know what I am?”

Behind me I hear Zack growling in frustration. Sounds of scuffling, as if he’s fighting to be released. But I can’t see him. My view is blocked by an expanse of chest covered in a very expensive black dress shirt under a leather jacket. The top two buttons of the shirt are open, hinting at the smooth, flawless chest beneath.

The vampire’s smile is bittersweet. “A sister of yours made me happy once. But that was many, many years ago . . . and before I was turned. I am Kallistos.”

Behind him, the struggling ceases. For a fraction of a second, everything is completely still. The name means nothing to me. Evidently it means something to Zack.

“Kallistos Kouros, Sovereign of the Western Territory?” he asks.

“The one and only.” The smile turns so bright it could light up a room. He exudes the kind of easy confidence possessed only by one comfortable with his power. “Release him.” Kallistos is speaking to someone else, but all of his attention is focused on me. His grip loosens on my hands and he gently lowers my arms to my side and takes a step back.

He tries to slip into my mind. I feel the long-reaching tendrils of his will searching for an opening. He’s very strong and very skilled, but a vampire’s thrall is no match for my own powers. He may be a tad over a thousand years old, but I’m older and I’ve had many years of practice. I deftly and unceremoniously push him out.

The force of my rejection is so strong it must feel like a slap in the face. I could have been gentler, kinder, used more finesse. But Kallistos needs to know when it comes to this, I have the upper hand, and always will. He doesn’t try to push back. Not even a little. He accepts the boundary that I’ve drawn. It’s almost as if he’s longed for it, for someone he can’t readily control.

“A wondrous and worthy opponent.” His voice is low and deep. “I love a woman who knows what she wants. Have dinner with me.”

Well, that was unexpected.

Suddenly Zack and I are shoulder to shoulder. He hands me my gun and puts his arm possessively around my waist. “My partner has plans.”

“Plans,” Kallistos repeats. The word rolls off his tongue as if it’s foreign to him and he’s testing it out. Men like Kallistos don’t have to make plans. The world is at their disposal. He’s used to getting what he wants, when he wants it.

“That’s right,” Zack answers.

A slow, sardonic smile forms on Kallistos’ lips. “Look at you, trying to mark your territory.”

Zack doesn’t rise to the bait. “I don’t consider Agent Monroe territory.”

Kallistos leans in. The smile fades. “Trust me, you’d be better off if you did.”

“Which sister?” I ask, moving so that I am between Zack and Kallistos. Which sister doesn’t matter. Whether it was my older sister or my younger, I can guess the story. They fell in love. It didn’t end happily ever after. I just want to put distance between him and Zack. I feel Zack’s rage mounting.

“I’m not here to dredge up the past.” Kallistos steps back, now flanked by the two other vampires he’d brought with him.

“Why are you here?” I ask him.

“The witch called me. She asked for my help. Her story piqued my interest, so I went to see her. We’ve had a rash of missing vampires lately. While I was there, one of her spells kicked in. She was able to pinpoint Evan’s location. Here. She wanted to come with me but—” He looks around the room. “I didn’t know what we’d find. I convinced her to wait.”

Convinced? Compelled, most likely. “You just missed Evan,” I say. “He should be home shortly.”

Kallistos turns and surveys the room, taking in the disarray. “There were others.”

“Six.” Zack gestures to the coffins on the far side of the room. “Two were completely desiccated. Evan said they were beyond help.”

Kallistos crosses to one of the silver-lined tombs, opens the lid, then places his hands on the side and peers in. Smoke rises between his fingers. I smell his flesh burn, yet he doesn’t flinch. “She kept them in here?”

“Yes,” Zack replies. “Evan released them.”

“What they must have endured. And some say we are the monsters.” His expression is a mixture of bewilderment and disgust.

His gaze sweeps the room. “The ones Evan released, who were they?”

Zack’s crosses his arms. He’s being cooperative, but he isn’t happy about the interrogation. “No idea.”

Kallistos walks over to Barbara Pierce. “This one was responsible for their capture and containment?”

Zack nods.

“What happened to her?”

“Isabella Mancini killed her. When she woke, she was half mad from starvation and torture,” I explain. “There were two others we were able to save, an Amy Patterson and some kid named Owen Cooper.” His expression changes ever so slightly when I mention the last name. Is it relief? I can’t tell. “No missing person’s report on Cooper as far as I know. That name wasn’t familiar.”

“That’s because he doesn’t quite live in the mainstream. Amy Patterson. Isn’t she the artist who’s been missing?” he asks.

I nod.

Kallistos points to the door Zack is standing in front of. Zack has his arms crossed over his chest, his expression stern.

“Who’s in there? I detected four heartbeats in the building—three on this floor, one on the main floor. From the way you’re guarding the door, I’m going to guess human.”

Zack looks surprised that Kallistos was able to detect the number of heartbeats before even entering the room. I have heard that only the oldest and most powerful of vampires acquire the skill, but in my immortal life span, I’ve never met one. No wonder Zack hasn’t, either.

Before today.

I wonder what other tricks Kallistos has up his sleeve.

“He had nothing to do with this,” I say. “Like the others, he was kidnapped and brought here against his will. He’s sick, dying, and he’s come to peace with that. His lover hadn’t. We need to get him to a hospital.”

Kallistos’ eyes narrow. “But what is he doing here , in this lab? Why were any of them here?”

I realize he doesn’t know about Pierce’s organ factory. I tell him, quickly, succinctly. How she was blackmailed and forced to harvest organs from humans for a black market transplant operation. How she came up with the idea of using vampires since, to her way of thinking, they were already dead. I relayed her discoveries. Vampires are universal donors, possessing organs that won’t be rejected. They’re capable of donating repeatedly, potentially endlessly. And then, finally, I told him about the silver, how she used it to subdue, restrain, and anesthetize her captives during surgery. How prolonged exposure to the silver appeared to be what caused the severe desiccation, the madness, the need for absolute death.