Sharon Ashwood - Ravenous

Alessandro shuddered, his flesh crawling under the wool and leather layers of his clothes. There was no power on earth, above or below, that could induce him to tolerate a demon in his town. It could lay waste to the campus. To Fairview. He'd seen them in action before. The stuff of nightmares, even for a vampire.

Hunt it. Kill it.

Alessandro could feel his heart beating again, a sure sign of stress. The smell in the room was cloying. He cleared his throat.

Stop and think with something besides your fangs.

Time was running out. He could hear the activity outside. Soon the police would be in the house, fouling everything with noise and human odors. He crouched, looking closely for any more clues. There it was again, that scent. He rocked back onto his heels, his head starting to ache with the effort to place that smell. It was vampire with a chaser of… what?

Who is it? Who dares to hunt in my domain?

The girl on the floor looked so vulnerable, so lonely under the dirty glare of light. She had not died well. From the position of the body, the girl seemed to have been thrown down. One hand reached up, as if she had tried to protect her face from the fall.

Vampires weren't gentle, but this level of violence was atypical. She might have even died before she was drained. Humans broke so easily.

Alessandro tilted his head, catching sight of something glinting in the girl's upflung hand. He dared not touch her. Vampires left fingerprints just like humans. He pulled out a pen and poked at her fingers, loosening the object in her grasp. Something hit the wooden floor with a clink. Alessandro pinned the object with the tip of the pen, scooting it along the floorboard until he could see what it was.

Cold dread congealed in his gut. The round, flat metal object was familiar. He had one just like it, a gift from his sire centuries ago.

The size of a quarter, the copper disk was old, rubbed thin, the edges slightly ragged. The design was worn away, but Alessandro could still make out the figure of Orpheus, the hero from Greek myth. In one hand he held a lyre; his other rested on the head of a lion.

In legend Orpheus sang so sweetly the wild beasts wept. His song was so powerful that he could walk through the Underworld in safety, for he charmed even the god of the dead.

Vampires left the Orpheus token as a blessing, a gift to ensure that the soul of their prey would travel in peace and safety. It was a ritual of respect that Alessandro hadn't seen practiced for hundreds of years. Tokens were rare. The one in the girl's hand dated from the Middle Ages.

I am searching for someone very old.

Apprehension prickled Alessandro's skin. Apprehension, and a primal need to answer the challenge. He picked up the token and slipped it into his pocket along with his pen.

Alessandro got up and looked out the small, dirty window. The night outside rustled and glittered, a breeze sending the dry leaves and branches flickering across the campus lights. Close up was the university, and a little farther away the community college that shared its grounds. He could see the clock tower and neon signs of the Student Union Building. Through it all streamed the endless glowing pinpoints that signified thousands of human lives.

Why would an old one come to my town and challenge me?

A new noise scattered his thoughts. Heavy men with heavy boots clumped up the stairs. The police had arrived. The look-away spell had been broken.

I'm a vampire standing next to an exsanguinated body. This cannot end well.

Alessandro switched off the room light and closed the door. That would buy him a little time, nothing more. He returned to the window and pulled on the old double-hung frame. It was painted shut. By the sound of the footfalls, Alessandro could tell the first of the policemen had reached the second floor.

A wave of frustration made him reckless. He shoved up the sash with a shuddering crash of splintering wood and paint. A gust of damp, cold air swirled into the room, sweet and clean after the stink of old death.

Predictably, the noise was followed by a yell from one of the cops. The window's opening was narrow, but Alessandro dived through, fragments of broken frame clawing at his clothes and hair.

The night air caught his momentum, floating him through the darkness. Speed made him a fleeting shadow against the bright sea of campus lights, a momentary tingle down the necks of the bystanders. The flight was short, but the thrill drove out the anxiety feasting on his soul.

Landing in the murky blackness of a neighboring lane, Alessandro crouched, listening. Nothing. He was safe. A slow smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

There was a hunt awaiting. A war for territory. A worthy, challenging, dangerous opponent, someone clearly spoiling for a fight.

I'll find you, Old One . The world of cell phones, credit checks, and taxation faded into insignificance. Alessandro was a creature of the rustling night, ready to protect what was his.

Ready for the chase.

He really hoped those emergency vehicles hadn't blocked in his car.

Macmillan left Holly where she sat on the curb, taking away the signed burn order on the house. Holly shifted, her rump numb from the cold concrete. The happy drugs still had her in a haze, sapping the urge to do anything but sit and drool.

On a good day, if someone had asked her what she wanted in life, she would have said business success, a college degree, and a cute boyfriend with husband potential. At the moment she would have settled for a cushion and a warmer coat.

A few minutes later another flurry of police cruisers arrived, lights flashing. Had something new happened?

"Ms. Carver." One of the paramedics, a thin, balding man, was walking toward her. "Mr. Elliot is asking for you."

"Dr. Elliot," she said automatically. "Ben's a professor." His specialty was in fifth-world macroeconomics, which sounded to Holly like a soy-based breakfast cereal or a grunge band with intellectual pretensions. Nevertheless, Ben was apparently brilliant.

The paramedic looked too harried to be impressed. "Can you follow me, please?"

Holly got up slowly, her legs stiff. The temperature was dropping, an icy, damp wind picking up. There would be rain before morning.

The man turned. "Mr.—Dr.—Elliot is refusing to go to the hospital. We were hoping you could talk him into complying with medical protocol. We'd really like to keep him overnight for observation."

"I'll try. He's kind of stubborn."

Ben was sitting on a gurney, his feet dangling over the side. It was pulled onto the sidewalk beside the ambulance, out of the way of the other attendants, who were still hurrying back and forth. He had one of the thin, gray first-aid blankets over his shoulders and a water bottle clutched in one hand. A tube ran from his arm to an IV bag on a stand. His long face was pale, but his expression was his own. The deer-in-the-slime-monster-headlights look was fading.

Holly stopped in front of him, projecting a hearty energy she didn't feel. "Are you giving the nice ambulance boys a hard time?"

Ben looked up at her, his eyes crinkling with a feeble shadow of a smile. "You look like crap. And you smell." He sniffed his sleeve. "So do I."

A flicker of annoyance let Holly know she was alive after all. "Save a guy from a sticky death, and still he criticizes. What happened to the sensitive New Age Ben? His DVD collection sucked, but he had manners."

"Sorry. The blob monster ate him." Ben passed a hand over his face. "Really. Sorry. That was a bad thing to say."

Holly put her hands on her hips. "Yeah, well, maybe I'll cut you some slack, given the near-death and all. Shouldn't you be going to the hospital?"