Caridad Pineiro - Honor Calls

Caridad Piñeiro

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Chapter 1

Michaela had been tracking the vampire since she’d sensed the elder during her scouting mission in Central Park.

He wasn’t the one she sought, but the heightened thrum of his power told her he had just killed. Reason enough to pursue him until she could find the right vampire and dispatch him.

Then and only then could she leave New York City for a kinder, gentler place.

She discovered the elder vamp’s victim just beyond one of the jogging paths. The kill was fresh, the scent of the elder strong on the female runner who had been tossed into the underbrush like garbage. As Michaela bent to examine the jogger’s body in its shredded clothes, she realized the vampire had not just been content to drain the woman of blood. The victim had been sexually assaulted as well and in the most brutal of ways—ripped apart by the vampire sating his lust.

Michaela opened her senses to pick up every last scintilla of the elder’s trail, from the metallic taste of the victim’s blood on his breath to the unique wake of energy the immortal left behind.

She reached the southern end of the park and something ahead of her spooked one of the horses attached to a hansom cab waiting along Central Park South. The animal reared up, hooves flailing.

She darted behind the cab and caught a glimpse of a blurry figure speeding through Grand Army Plaza. As she raced to the fountain in the center of the square, the pulse of undead power beat at her more strongly, signaling that she was getting closer to the ancient vampire.

Another indistinct flash weaving through the pedestrians on Fifth Avenue confirmed the immortal was within her reach.

She focused on that vague shape, keeping a watchful eye and a respectful distance as she chased after him. She could not engage the vampire elder out in the open where either humans or other vampires might see what was happening. To do so might expose her presence in the city and possibly bring down the wrath of the vampire council.

Despite her caution, the elder must have sensed that he was being followed.

He increased his speed, weaving in and out of the humans on the sidewalks, climbing to the rooftop of a building in lower Midtown Manhattan and leaping from one structure to the next before dropping to the ground. The vampire moved at an almost frantic pace, as if he knew the nature of her mission.

Michaela kept up her determined pursuit, patiently waiting for the moment when the time would be right. She dodged pedestrians and vehicles as the vampire attempted to elude her, well aware that she had to act before the immortal reached the safe haven of the Blood Bank.

If he made it there, she would have to pull back and wait for another night. There were too many undead in that place to risk a confrontation within its doors.

Too many, and she was just one against them.

She drove back the crush of loneliness that nearly choked her, reminding herself that there was no other way. Her life held too much death and destruction; it hindered any kind of personal commitments.

The few people she had allowed to get close had run away when they discovered the truth about her existence.

The truth about her.

Or they’d ended up dead.

In Union Square, the vampire geared down to human speed, using that pace to lose himself amongst the many mortals still present in the park. The beat of the humans’ life forces and their scents served to disguise his presence.

Michaela paused at the far edge of the square, examining the walkways, attempting to separate the humans from her undead prey, but she was unable to pin down the immortal. She waited, hopeful that once the elder moved beyond the boundaries of the crowded area, she would be able to pick up his presence once again.

Her wait was futile.

Long minutes passed with no activity that she could discern.

She finally acknowledged that she had been bested by his subterfuge, but that didn’t mean the chase was over.

She knew just where the vampire was likely to go.

If she could beat him there, she still might be able to take him out before he reached the safety of the nightclub.

Hustling at breakneck speed, she arrived at the mouth of the small cobblestoned street that led to the Blood Bank. At the club’s door was the ever-present vampire bouncer and crowd of humans waiting to mingle with both wannabe and real vampires. Not to mention the occasional shape-shifter brave enough to cross into bloodsucker territory.

Michaela had never understood the human fascination with the undead, the near veneration for the amoral creatures who had taken so much from her and others.

Vampires weren’t meant to be idolized, she thought.

They were meant to be exterminated.

As she felt the presence at her back, she realized she had guessed right about the vampire elder.

She had barely half turned to face him when he lashed out at her, nails as sharp as eagle’s talons raking across her jacket. The leather did its job, keeping his nails from tearing into her flesh.

Bending backward, she avoided the deeper thrust of another vicious swipe toward her midsection and then dropped down to sweep the vampire’s feet out from under him.

He landed with a thick thud, while she was immediately back on her feet after a quick jerk and launch of her body, a nice sharp wooden stake in her hand.

“Not what you thought, fang boy?” she taunted as she stood, arms akimbo, above the prone body of the stunned elder.

With a swift move of his own, the vampire surged to his feet, fully transformed. His eyes glowed with a piercing teal-blue light. Long deadly fangs erupted from his mouth and ended at a point below his chin. Such a prodigious length of tooth testified to his longevity. The strength of his elder power jabbed at her senses, threatening just by its very existence.

This vamp would not go quickly, she thought as the elder issued a warning growl and lunged at her again, beginning a dance that could end in only one way….

With one of them dead.

Frustration clawed at his gut as he stared at the picture of the latest victim found torn apart in a downtown alley. As he flipped through the status report on the investigation, a familiar name appeared in the FBI case report.

The Blood Bank.

FBI Assistant Director in Charge Jesus Hernandez expected a fair share of crime in a city like New York, but judging from how often the edgy Goth bar appeared in the reports provided to him, the Blood Bank appeared to be crime central.

He supposed the easy way to find out more about the club would be to ask any of the agents in his bureau what to make of the place. But he hadn’t gotten to be one of the top agents in the New York City Bureau by taking the easy way. On the contrary. He believed in personally getting involved when it was necessary.

As he picked up the file again and examined the photo of the body parts found a couple of blocks from the bar, he raked his hand through his short-cropped hair and blew out a disgusted breath.

He’d read the witness statements. Tales of creepy happenings and Goth clubgoers who might be a little more than they seemed.

Even his top agent—Diana Reyes—seemed to believe in the possibility of an underworld that was less than human.

It was definitely time for a visit to the Blood Bank to get his own impression.

Memorizing the address, he rose from his desk and slipped on his suit jacket. For a moment he considered going by his apartment to change, certain he would look out of place in his expensive suit.