Dianne Duvall: Darkness Rises

Étienne froze, careful to ensure no light touched him.

Had her gaze flitted from the sign up to him?

No. She was looking all around like she either didn’t know where she was or couldn’t remember where she intended to go.

The vampires slunk farther into the shadows mere moments before she glanced in their direction.

“Hmm,” she mumbled. “I think . . .” She spun in a circle. “Right.”

She crossed the deserted street, passed Bastien’s building, and . . . entered a dark alley. Really? Had she no sense of self-preservation?

Étienne drew his katanas as the vampires flowed into the alley behind her like a black tide. Their thoughts—a writhing mass of madness, violence, and anticipation—struck him like poisoned arrows.

Being telepathic could really suck sometimes.

He frowned, only then realizing he hadn’t heard any of Krysta’s thoughts. As he watched her stumble toward the end of the alley, not yet noticing that her path would soon be blocked by a tall chain-link fence, he focused on her tipsy head and . . . heard nothing.

Very unusual. He could count on one hand the number of humans he had encountered in his two centuries of existence who could block, intentionally or not, his entrance into their minds.

She halted.

The vamps spread out across the alley, facing her. Light from the street distended and distorted the shadows at their feet, making it seem almost as though they reached for her ankles.

Étienne stepped to the edge of the roof, preparing to drop down and save Krysta’s attractive, but flighty ass, then . . .

She ceased swaying. Her shoulders straightened.

Spinning around, she offered the menacing foursome a cool, measuring stare.

Étienne frowned.

The vampires boasted no weapons. Yet. But their eyes glowed and their lips parted to expose long, glinting fangs. She should be screaming her head off. Instead . . .

“Finally,” she pronounced with a healthy dose of exasperation. “It took you guys long enough. I mean, did you really have to make me walk up that damned hill?”

What. The. Hell?

Krysta shifted, balancing her weight lightly on the balls of her feet as the vampires exchanged puzzled looks. There were four of them. Four would be a challenge. Okay, more than a challenge. Way more. She had had her ass handed to her more than once in the past couple of years when trying to combat such numbers on her own. But, until they actually closed in, she was often unable to tell just how many had taken the bait and followed her.

Sneakers shuffled on dirty asphalt.

These seemed to be typical examples of the vampires’ ilk. Young. Twenties or thereabouts. Could blend in easily on a college campus if you disregarded the brilliantly glowing eyes and fangs. Hopefully they hadn’t been vampires for very long. The older they were, the more insane they were. At least that was how she thought it worked. And the deeper they descended into madness, the harder they were to defeat. Krysta didn’t have their speed. Or strength. Or size and weight. But she did have two things they didn’t.

The first was skill. She had spent years training in tae kwon do, karate, and jiujitsu, and had trained with weapons long enough to kick ass. Most vampires had spent a majority of the time, prior to their transformation, sitting on their asses and either texting, yakking on the phone, surfing the Internet, or playing video games. That didn’t lend them much skill with knives and swords, so she didn’t really understand why they carried them. They were vampires. They could disarm a human easily and, if they didn’t, could survive a bullet wound, so what was the deal with that? As far as Krysta knew, she was the only vampire hunter in existence. She seriously doubted her reputation preceded her.

The orange glow around the vampires moved and shifted as the not-very-bright predators tried to figure out why she wasn’t fleeing in terror.

And that was her second advantage. She could see auras. Until she had begun to hunt vampires, she had never thought much of the ability. It warned her of people’s moods, so she could turn and walk the other way if someone was pissed about something and she didn’t want to hear it. Big whoop.

Then her life had changed dramatically, and she had actually found a use for her talent.

Vampires were incredibly fast. Like as fast as The Flash. Their movements became blurry and indistinct when they moved at top speeds. But their auras behaved very differently than those of humans. Vampires’ auras moved and shifted before they did, telling her exactly where they intended to go before they even took a step.

Krysta eyed the vamps before her, waiting for the telltale shift in auras that would precede their attack.

“Aren’t you afraid of us?” one asked.

“No. Should I be?”

Looks were exchanged.

“Yeah, ya dumb bitch,” another proclaimed. “We’re vampires!”

So polite. She slid a hand into her coat and grasped the handle of one of the shoto swords she carried, ready to teach him some manners. “Yeah, and?”

“What, are you a second?”

She fought a frown. He wasn’t the first vampire who had asked her that. What the hell was a second? A second what?

“Fuck this. Let’s kick her ass!” a third cried.

The aura of the one closest to her shifted. Krysta drew her sword and swung it, the blade sinking into flesh as the vampire blurred and caught up with the orange glow.

Krysta drew her other sword.

The three remaining vampires gaped as the severed head of their companion hit the ground and rolled several feet away from the body that tumbled after it.

The first kill was always the easiest.

The vampires’ faces contorted with fury. Growls and snarls erupted. Eyes glowed brighter.

Crap. Here we go.

Orange auras deepened in color and shot forward just before the vampires’ forms all blurred.

Krysta swung both swords with as much speed and strength as she possessed. Her heart raced. Adrenaline surged through her veins. Her blades sank into her opponents.

When warm blood slapped her in the face, she clamped her lips shut. No way did she want any of that getting into her mouth. She didn’t know exactly how one became a vampire, but figured it probably had something to do with the blood.

One of the vamps landed a blow to her back that sent pain careening through her as she flew forward and hit the ground.

Rolling, she came up swinging as the vamps converged on her. The momentum of one came to her aid and made a hit that normally would have just cut him instead sever his arm. Vamps tended to not recover from such severe wounds, bleeding out faster than they could heal. As this one did, stumbling backward and falling to the ground while he fought to staunch the crimson river flowing onto the pavement around him.

The vampires divided, attacking from opposite sides.

Krysta continued to wield her deadly shotos, creating a barrier as formidable as a rotary fan’s blades. Cuts opened on the vampires, who became manic in their fury, slavering like rabid dogs.

Fear a constant companion, she delivered a round-house kick to the vamp behind her. Agony shot up her leg. It was like kicking a damned boulder. But at least it had kept him from diving low and biting her leg as his aura had warned her he intended.

She landed several more slashes before silver glinted in their hands.

Hell.

Needlelike pain erupted in her arms, sides, and back as they cut her.

Time to take a huge risk.

Ignoring the vampire behind her, she focused all of her attention on the one in front of her. The next time his aura shifted, she swung with all of her might.