Michele Hauf - The Vampire Hunter

The Mac computer silently flashed a screensaver of circles raked into a Zen sand garden. Kaz entered his password and opened the database. He also connected his cell phone because the program would automatically update his mobile files and kill stats. He loved technology, and his phone was also hooked up to a funky security system for his home, and everything was Wi-Fi.

In seconds he found a file on Switch that had been updated within the past few years. A vampire created roughly eight years ago, give or take a few months. Pre-vampirism, Switch had been known to work odd jobs, such as auto mechanic, tour barge operator and even a stint at the Moulin Rouge as a burlesque dancer. Once inducted into the league of longtooths, she’d never officially joined a tribe, but preferred to hang with some of the local tribes for months at a time before going off on her own again.

Vail had mentioned something about her hooking up with tribe leaders.

“The chick goes for the guy in charge. She’s not stupid,” Kaz muttered as he read further.

She was a bruiser and known to cause problems. No human losses had been associated with her vampiric activity—a good thing. Kaz did not like to kill females, but he would, if necessary. Yet Vail had also mentioned she did wet work. Did she stalk her own breed? Maybe she had a thing for taking out werewolves? The two breeds, though supposedly in accord with one another, could never shrug off their ingrained hatreds.

Werewolves were a breed Kaz avoided with a passion. When they shifted to their werewolf shape, he ran in the opposite direction. Most smart—and still breathing—knights did.

A few final notes detailed her possible age at mid-twenties. Switch was most often found on the right bank, sixteenth through eighteenth arrondissements, so he assumed she must also live in that area.

Zoë lived in the eighteenth. Too close to the area he’d targeted for investigation.

Kaz sat back, closing his eyes from the screen strain, and smiled. “Cerulean,” he whispered. “Who’da thought I’d like that color?”

His thoughts wandered, and the memory of Zoë’s stunningly intense kisses broadened his smile. Zoë with the bright blue eyes that seemed to look for things inside him even he wasn’t aware existed. Zoë with the mysterious scar dashing her cheek, which didn’t lessen her appeal, but did make him want to learn how it had happened so he could crush the offender’s skull. Ex-boyfriend? He hoped not. Maybe it had been a car accident?

Scars were plenty in his world; that was for sure. Kaz bore his own inner scars, and a few on the surface. He could fight vampires fist to fist and win, but a well-matched fight usually ended in a new battle scar. And a pile of ash. His kill count was high, and would remain so, because the damned vamps kept making more.

He wondered if Zoë was aware of the paranormal world that existed around her, and then decided she was lucky to remain naive. Good thing he’d been able to avoid staking the vamps while she had been watching last night. He would have hated to introduce her to all things fanged and vicious in such an abrupt manner.

Despite every molecule in his being that warned how difficult it was for him to commit to any kind of relationship, he definitely wanted to see her again. Because man could not survive by the fight alone. He needed kisses, and skin contact and all that messy, exciting stuff involved with sex.

And how could the rescuing knight not return for the damsel?

Yet could he manage it without bringing along the danger of the world he lived in?

“Rothstein.”

He hadn’t heard Rook enter the lab, and stood quickly to face his supervisor. Initially his teacher, Rook had also become Kaz’s mentor over the years. The man had a way about him. Stealthy and silent as the wind, Rook was a master of all martial arts. After Kaz had earned his trust and a bed in the Order’s broom closet to sleep after a long, grueling day of training, Rook had trained Kaz for a year before he’d been knighted by the founder, King, and officially accepted into the Order. At seventeen, Kaz had been the youngest knight to take vows.

Live to serve. Serve until death. Die fighting. Words he lived by.

“Afternoon, Rook.” The name was a moniker, he knew, and Kaz had no curiosity about his real name. In a job like this, a man had to protect himself with every measure available.

Rook leaned in and read the computer screen. “What’s she up to? Is Switch involved in the faery-dust incident?”

“Possibly. It’s a lead my informant gave me.”

“She’s all sorts of suspicious, but I’d never task her with human murders. Werewolves, on the other hand...”

That answered Kaz’s suspicion about what sort of wet work the vampiress did.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about something since assigning you this job,” Rook said. “If this new blend of faery dust—”

“They’re calling it Magic Dust.”

“Is that so? Huh. Well, if it is making vampires go after one another, maybe we should stand back and let them at it. That solves our problem, doesn’t it?”

“But that’s the thing. The longtooths aren’t killing one another for this new blend. It’s different than the usual stuff. It—I don’t know—it won’t let them go. It’s as if it builds up in their system and never shuts off, which compels them to seek more of the dust.”

“Like meth,” Rook commented.

“Yes.” Kaz had researched methamphetamine just days ago. “The drug turns on the dopamine in the brain and never shuts it off. It’s like an overflowing faucet. Unfortunately, vampires on this stuff go ape-shit for anything sparkly, thinking it’s faery dust. They murdered my friends, Rook. I will make it stop.”

Rook crossed his arms over his chest, an uncharacteristic move. He was always on the alert, hands free at his sides, prepared. He shook his head. “Family and friends are never safe once ensconced in your world.”

He knew that. And that was the toughest pill to swallow.

“Don’t let sorrow for your friends jeopardize your focus out in the field, Kaspar.”

Kaz lifted his chin.

“You want revenge for the death of your friends? I gave it to you with this assignment. But first and foremost, we need to get to the core of the operation and find the origin of this insipid drug.”

“I will do that.”

“Not if you take out the vampire who killed your friends in a blind rage. Keep your wits about you, man. You’ll need him to lead you to the operation.”

“I’m aware of that, and intend to do just that.”

The knights vowed only to slay those vamps that presented a clear threat to humans. Of course, each knight had his own scale of gauging threat level. Kaz counted the vampire lethal when he killed, and not before then. The vampire who had killed his friends was still out there. And he had only one fang. That should go a long way in identifying his perp.

“Once this Magic Dust circulates and becomes easy to obtain,” Kaz said, “half the vampire population in Paris could flip out.”

Rook sighed and tapped the computer screen. “And you think Switch can lead you to the source? She’s a hard one.”

“So it seems. But it’s the best lead I’ve got.”

“Don’t let this become a war. The last thing the Order needs is a human to see the veil pulled aside and witness hunters staking vampires.”

As had almost happened the other night when Zoë had stumbled onto the slaying.

“Make it quick, clean and quiet, Rothstein.”

“I will.”

“Keep me apprised,” Rook said, and he walked out, leaving the lab door open.

Kaz reread the info on Switch. There were a few details that would aid him in overpowering her. One being that it was believed a vamp from the Anakim tribe had created her (though that information was only hearsay). That tribe of vampires was not immune to sunlight.