Keri Arthur - Full Moon Rising

“Directorate of Other Races,” I said, standing in the doorway and letting my gaze roam the darkness. I couldn’t see the vampire hiding in the shadows, but I could certainly smell him. Why wouldn’t most vampires wash? “Come out, or face the consequences.”

Which wasn’t exactly legal speak, but I’d been around guardians long enough to know they generally didn’t bother with legalities

“You ain’t no guardian,” a soft, almost childish voice said

I rolled my shoulders, trying to ease the tension tightening my muscles. The voice came from the left, yet the unwashed scent was still coming from the right. Could there be two vampires? Surely Gautier would have told me… Then I remembered his nasty smile. The bastard had known, all right

“I never said I was a guardian. I said I was Directorate. And the rest of my statement still applies.”

The vampire snorted. “Make me.”

Make me, not make us. The vamp was betting I didn’t know there were two of them

“Last chance, vampire.”

“I can smell your fear, little wolf.”

So could I. Could feel the tremor of it through my veins. But the smell of my fear was nothing compared to what was coming from the humans in the room

I stepped inside the club

The air to my right stirred, and the pungent aroma of death sharpened. I dropped. A shadow soared over my back, his stench so bad I almost gagged. The soft thump of his landing told me where he was, even if his scent was too close, too overwhelming, to pinpoint it exactly. I spun, and lashed out with a bare foot. The blow connected with solid darkness and the vampire grunted. Again air moved, giving me warning. I twisted, whipping the spiked heel across the darkness. Felt it scrape across flesh even as the vampire howled in pain. Again, it wasn’t the voice of an adult—more that of a kid. Someone had turned youngsters. The thought sickened me

Movement caught my eye. The first vampire had shaken free of the shadows and climbed to his feet. He swung around to face me, his eyes red with bloodlust, his thin features contorted with rage. Not only youngsters in human terms, but youngsters in vampire years, as well. But that didn’t make them any less dangerous. Just a little less devious

He ran at me. I dodged, then swung the shoe, hitting his jaw with an audible whack. He howled and lashed out with a clenched fist. I leaned back, felt the breeze of the blow brush past my chin. The reek of unwashed flesh swamped me again. Not the scent of the first vampire, but the second. And he was approaching fast. I grabbed a fistful of the first vamp’s shaggy brown hair and yanked him around into the second vampire’s path

They hit with enough force to rattle my teeth, but it wasn’t enough to knock either of them out. The first vamp somehow twisted around, his fist catching the side of my face with enough force to knock me off my feet. I hit the floorboards with a grunt, the shoes flying from my hands. For a moment, I even saw stars. Then the weight of one of the vamps hit, his body covering my length and pinning me to the ground. His stench flooded my senses, making it hard to breathe as his canines lengthened in the expectation of a feed

Not on my neck, he wasn’t

I bucked, trying to get him off me, but he had his legs wrapped around mine to anchor himself. He laughed, and suddenly all I could see was bloodied teeth, slashing down

“No way, you bastard.” I forced an arm between us. His teeth slashed my wrist, slicing deep, and pain roiled white-hot through my body. Some vampires made the experience of taking blood pleasurable, but this one sure as hell didn’t. Maybe he was too young. Whatever the reason, I screamed

The other vampire laughed, which only served to fuel my anger. Strength surged though my limbs, momentarily obliterating the pain. As the vampire sucked greedily at my blood, I thrust my free hand through his hair, grabbed a fistful, then yanked his head back, dragging his teeth from my arm. As he squawked in surprise, I clenched a bloodied fist and hit him in the mouth as hard as I could. Blood and bone and teeth flew, and his squawk became a howl of agony. I bucked again and flipped him backward over my head. He landed with a crash on his back, hard up against the bar, and didn’t get up

One down, one to go

And that one was flying through the air, diving straight for me. I scrambled upright and got the hell out of his way. The vamp twisted in midair, landing catlike, then swept with a booted foot, trying to knock me off my feet. I dodged the blow, then repeated it, battering him off his feet. He landed with a thump on his butt but quickly twisted around and dove forward. One fist smacked into my thigh and sent me staggering. The vamp was up almost instantly, teeth gleaming in the cold darkness

I faked a blow to his head, then spun and dove for one of my shoes. It would kill the sucker if I hit the right spot, but the chances of his standing still long enough were next to nil

Still, no matter where I hit, a wooden spike hanging out of his chest would not only slow him down, but burn the shit out of him. No one was actually sure why, especially given that vamps could touch wood without problem. Current theories suggested it was some sort of chemical reaction between a vampire’s blood and the wood—and that reaction was the reason a stake through the heart could kill a vampire. It set off a response that resulted in the cindering of all internal organs, in much the same way as sunlight crisped new vampires stupid enough to go out in it

He snarled in rage and leapt for me. I grabbed the shoe, snapped off the heel, then rolled out from underneath him and jumped upright. As he spun around to face me, I drove the spike as hard as I could into his chest

He moved, and I missed the right spot. It didn’t matter. At that moment, anywhere was good. He stopped abruptly and stared down in surprise at the flickers of fire erupting from the wound. That’s when I dropped him. He hit the ground and didn’t move

For a moment, I simply stood there, desperately battling to get some air back into my lungs. When I could breathe again, the pain hit—a tide that was almost all-consuming. I took a deep, shuddery breath and called to the wolf that prowled within

Power swept through me, tingling through vein and muscle and bone, blurring my vision, blurring the pain. Limbs shortened, shifted, rearranged, until what was standing in the club was wolf not human. I remained in my alternate form for several seconds, panting softly and listening to the silence for any hint of movement, then began to shift back into human form

The cells in a werewolf’s body retained data on body makeup, which was why wolves were so long-lived. In changing, damaged cells were repaired. Wounds were healed. And while it generally took more than one shift to heal wounds as deep as the ones on my arm, one would at least stem the bleeding and begin the healing process

Of course, changing shape while fully clothed is never a good thing for the clothes—especially when they were as fragile as the lace top I was wearing. At least my jeans were made of stretchy material, and usually managed to survive the change in reasonable shape

Once back in human form, I knotted the remains of the shirt together, then swung around, my gaze searching the darkness for the humans who were here, somewhere. That’s when the clapping began. It was a solitary tattoo that somehow managed to sound sarcastic

I knew it was Gautier without even smelling him

“You bastard,” I said, as I turned back around to face him. “You just stood there and watched?”

There was nothing pleasant about his sudden grin. “You’re right. You can handle yourself.”

“Why didn’t you help?”