Stake-Out (Paranormal Detectives Series Book 1), page 12
He understood that there were evil creatures, but he had witnessed his father rush in on harmless werewolf packs and slaughter them all without a single thought. That, to him, was murder. He was questioning his affiliation with the family business.
He bought his mother’s goods and went to walk around a bit, to enjoy the night air before the humidity and ninety degree temperatures hit. It was then that he heard a female shriek in fear. He shouldered his pack with his mother’s fruit and raced toward the sound, his gun drawn. He turned a corner to see a teenage girl struggling in the grasp of a red-eyed, fanged vampire. He was severely pale, with blood crusted around his lips. Must’ve been newly turned, Jonathan figured.
He knew his silver bullets would do no good, so he reached into his jacket for his knife. “Hey, over here, Dracula!” he called.
The vampire looked up, surprised and angry at being interrupted while feeding. It hissed and threw the girl aside, going to lunge. Before it could move, however, a sword—an enchanted falchion with strange engravings older than time—sliced clean through its neck, effectively severing the head from the body and killing it.
As the body fell, he saw who had saved him: a young woman, maybe twenty years old, with long, jet black hair, fair skin, dark eyes, scandalously red lips and wearing a black corseted dress of the most high-end modern fashion. She hadn’t even looked at him as she bent down to the young girl on the floor.
“Is she all right?” Jonathan asked tentatively, wondering where on Earth she had come from. The alleyway ended in a dead end.
She looked up and smiled at him, making him blush. “She will be just fine. She passed out from shock, not head trauma or a bite.” She walked toward him and held out a gloved hand to shake. “You were quite brave, sir, to take on a vampire.”
He took her hand in his. “As were you. Are you a hunter?”
She threw her head back and laughed. It was a musical sound and Jonathan found himself wanting to hear it always. “I am not. Are you, sir?”
He nodded. “My name is Jonathan Price, of the Price family. We have been hunters for nearly four centuries.”
“Oh.” She removed her hand from his and nodded her head to him. “If you’re a professional, I advise you to be more careful around such a young and vulnerable vamp. You could’ve killed him quite easily, but you faltered. Good evening.” He detected a hint of an accent. British?
“Miss, wait,” he called.
She turned back to him.
“I didn’t catch your name.”
She turned around, the moon illuminating her silhouette. “Angelica Cross.” With that, she disappeared into the night.
****
Jonathan thought about Miss Cross often in the next few days. He had never seen a woman so brave and so adept at swordplay. She must’ve studied extensively. He recalled her soft smile, flashing eyes and soft-looking body. Who was she? He thought his father knew nearly everyone in Chicago, but he had never heard of the Cross name.
During his spare time, Jonathan volunteered at the local blood bank, donating and helping the sick and elderly. One day he came in and the other volunteers were running around like their heads were cut off.
“What the devil are you all doing?” he asked. “Is the Pope coming?”
“Worse— the boss. Well, the new boss; daughter of the old boss,” explained one of the workers. “We have to get this place in tiptop shape right quick!”
Jonathan helped straighten things up until the front doors opened again and in walked Miss Cross, the woman from the other night. He saw that it was sunset. Why was the new boss even arriving at such a late hour, when they would be closing soon?
“Well, what a well-run facility,” she mused, not even speaking to the workers. She looked around until she saw Jonathan. “Ah. You I know. Hello, Mr. Price.”
“Miss Cross. A pleasure.” He gave her a small bow of the head.
“Sure.” She moved on without a word, checking books and supplies. “Well, this is looking quite well. There are talks of a war brewing in Europe. If it really happens, and if America gets pulled in, we will need this facility to continue to be fully functioning with frequent volunteers. I want to thank you all for the wonderful job you’ve done so far and encourage continued excellence. Any issues, you all know how to reach me. You may all return to your homes. I will remain to finish things here.”
“Wow. Wonderful, attractive lass, isn’t she?” asked a man Jonathan knew simply as Sully. “How do you know her?”
“I ran into her the other evening at the market,” he replied.
“Well, then, you should get with that while she’s still available,” he saw wisely.
Jonathan chuckled. “I’m nearly double her age, Sully. She’d never want me.” He turned to leave when Angelica called him back.
“Never want ya, huh?” Sully muttered with a grin.
“What can I do for you, Miss Cross?” he asked, entering her small, private office.
“Sit, please. As you are a hunter, I feel I must have this conversation with you, Mr. Price.” She waited until he sat before continuing. “Blood banks service more than just the sick and injured. You might want to quit now, before you’re in deep with your father.”
“What do you mean, ma’am?”
“Vampires, Mr. Price. You see, vampires are not all like the one we faced the other night. He was newly risen, without guidance. His hunger overtook him. Most vampires find ‘living donors’ or utilize blood banks like this one in order to remain alive and not be hunted by the likes of you.”
He just stared at her for a moment. “What are you saying?”
“I am strongly suggesting that you get yourself out of here and do not come back, by yourself or with your father, to hunt here. If you do, there will be consequences.” Her eyes flashed with anger, but instead of feeling intimidated or even angry, he felt…attracted to her.
Something she said hit home with him. “Wait, Miss Cross, you’re telling me vampires don’t all kill humans?”
She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “You hunters are all the fucking same. You think anything not human is an enemy. You kill first and ask questions never. Not every paranormal creature is evil…except for demons. They’re the exception to the rule. But you think that a fang or a little fur means killer. That is just not the case, and you just don’t care. It’s sad. The mental degeneration of the human race can be easily displayed simply by revealing hunters’ brand of thinking to the world.”
“How kind you are. If you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving,” Jonathan said, standing up.
“I want your word. I know hunters always keep their word, and I’m counting on that. You leave the nighttime guests of this place alone, Mr. Price, or I’ll personally remove you from the equation.” She sounded so calm, as if she was talking about going to the dressmaker.
“I’m no wayward vamp, Cross,” he said.
“Neither am I.” He watched as her eyes turned red and she smiled, revealing a mouthful of fangs. “Promise me,” she hissed.
He stared at her, unable to believe that this lovely woman was a bloodsucker. “I-I will never come back to harm your vampires. I swear. Just promise to keep them in line so I don’t have to hunt them.”
Simply, she pointed to the door and he quickly made his exit, his heart pounding and his limbs shaky.
****
“Jonathan!” Miriam called one evening while he was in his father’s study perusing old scrolls about faeries. “You have a visitor. I directed her to the parlor. Would you like any refreshments?”
“No, thank you, Mother.” He wondered what woman had come to see him? He walked into the parlor and sitting there, sullying his mother’s furniture with her very presence, was the vampire, Angelica. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Such a gentleman,” she snipped, standing to greet him. She was only about two inches shorter than he was and stood like a princess. “I have come to ask a favor of you professionally.”
“Go on.” What did she possibly want of a hunter? Suicide-by-murder?
“There was a werewolf attack last night and one two days ago. Same neighborhood. Both victims were vampires. I was wondering if you could assist me with the hunt and successful execution of the creatures…for a fee, of course. Please, name your price.” She absolutely hated asking for help from a hunter, but even she knew when she might be in over her head, and vampire-blood-filled werewolves were too much even for her to handle.
“We’ll discuss that after the fact; it depends on how many are in the pack and how difficult they prove to be to kill,” he replied. “When do you want to begin the hunt?” Did he want to work with a vampire? No. Did he want to catch and kill creatures threatening his city? Yes.
“Now. Tonight is the last night where the moon is full enough for them to transform. I can wait while you gather your gear.”
Her, wait in the house alone with his defenseless mother and servants around? Not on his life! “Come with me.” He began to lead her to his house on the property. “Do you have your weapons, Miss Cross?”
“Do you breathe, Mr. Price?” she retorted.
He allowed her to come inside and wait while he went into his locked case for his weapons: a silver dagger, a silver gun with silver bullets, a jacket with silver accents and buttons and gloves with real silver thread.
“Before we fight, there is something you should know about me,” Angelica began.
“What more do I need to know other than you’re a vampire?” Jonathan asked.
She smiled a little. “That’s just it. I’m not a vampire. I’m a half-vampire. My father was a human. So I’m not as strong or fast as the vampires you’re used to encountering. Just letting you know in case you think I’m purposely holding back during the fight tonight. I’m not.”
A half-human, half-vampire hybrid? That was a new one. “What can you do?” he asked.
She proceeded to explain about her kind and how they lived. “As far as I know, I’m the only one of my kind alive right now,” she finished.
Interesting and something to enter into the ledgers his family kept. They drove to the forest, being on the lookout for anything furry and howling. He couldn’t help but rely on Angelica’s advanced senses to tell him if danger was near. He was good, but not as good as a vampire.
“I can smell them,” she whispered. “Nine o’clock.” She slid a gun from a holster under her jacket and a silver dagger from a thigh holder. “Ready?”
He nodded and heard a howl. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought the howler was…laughing?
“I smell meat,” a deep voice bellowed.
“And a bat. What are a bat and a human doing together?” another answered. Both voices were so deep they sounded like growls…which they technically were. They appeared, each of them in mid-transformation. They had paws for feet, but walked on two legs. Their faces had wolfish teeth and eyes, but were still human. They had fur everywhere. It was probably the most gruesome thing, to see a were in mid-transformation.
“You’re like this permanently, aren’t you?” Angelica asked them, knowing werewolves were rarely in a state of mid-transformation for long periods of time.
“We’ve been enhanced by the witch Guilfoyle. You’ll meet her soon, I’m sure,” one answered. “In Hell!” He lunged at her, but she got out of the way quickly. She fired her gun, missing the mark. It charged again and knocked her over. It was strong. Whoever this Guilfoyle was, her magic was top-notch.
Jonathan shot at the wolf and hit it, but not in the heart. It howled and charged toward him. He was now right in between the path of two wolf-human things and had nowhere to run. He heard shots fired and one wolf fell to the ground, changing back into its human form. It was dead, but the other one was still coming and Angelica wasn’t a good enough shot to kill it. Its claws tore through his clothing and flesh, missing his heart, but drawing too much blood. He fell the the ground, barely conscious.
Angelica felt her stomach drop. His death had not been her intention that night. “You made a big mistake, Fido,” she said, running toward it and stabbing it through the heart with her silver falchion, disemboweling it while she was at it. She tossed her sword to the ground and ran to Jonathan’s side. He was still alive!
There was no way to transport him to a hospital. She needed him alive and there was only one thing to do. She sliced open her own wrist and ran her blood over his wounds, effectively closing them as if they had never been there. She then squeezed a few drops of her half-dead blood into his mouth, hoping that it would revive him. She had heard about vampires healing humans this way before, but wasn’t sure her blood was pure enough to do it, but she knew she had to try.
When she saw his color come back, she almost cried with relief. “Thank God,” she whispered, running a hand through his thick hair. As much as she hated to admit it to herself, she was so glad to see him alive. She felt a fondness for him she had never felt in nearly a hundred years.
He groaned. “What happened?”
“You’re okay. They’re dead.” She held his hand in hers, gently caressing it.
“I was stabbed…clawed.” He coughed. He felt like death.
She nodded. “I healed you, so you’re going to be just fine. You just need rest and some red meat.”
His warm eyes locked on hers, captivating her as if he were the vampire. “You’re not like the others,” he said.
She shook her head. “A lot of us are not like the others, Jonathan. One day you will learn. For now, you need to rest.”
“Can’t rest here,” he said, trying to get up. She helped him, lifting his weight as easily as if he were a doll. He leaned against her, feeling so strongly for this…vampire. She led him to his car and insisted to drive him home.
“How will you get home? Can you turn into a bat?” he asked.
“No, I cannot. I’ll run, like I always do.” She pulled into his driveway and helped him out of the car. His parent’s house was dark. It was unimaginably late. “Thank you for helping me,” she said.
Without thinking about the consequences, he blurted out, “I would like to see you again, Miss Cross. Unprofessionally. Would you like to?”
He hadn’t known vampires could blush until that very moment. “I would love to. And you can call me Angelica.”
“How about I call you Angel? You saved me, after all.” Her blush deepened. He inclined his head toward her and gently pressed his lips on hers. Brash, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. He had never felt this way toward a woman before.
“What about your fee?” she murmured, her breath tickling his neck.
“I’m sure you can work it off somehow.”
****
Three months passed with him getting to know Angelica. She was intelligent, beautiful, strong, brave and very sweet. He didn’t care that she wasn’t completely human. Her heart was human, and that was what mattered. He knew he loved her and she reciprocated the emotion. Angelica wasn’t just a love interest: she had quickly become his whole life. His father, upon finding out, threw him off the property and disowned him as his son. Jonathan expected that, though he was still upset that his father couldn’t see things his way.
The evening after his father told him what he could do with himself, he took Angelica to a ball at the governor’s place and proposed to her among all of the aristocratic guests, his parents included.
As it turned out, she was a friend of the governor and he allowed them to use his mansion for their wedding, much to Davidson’s dismay. It was small, as neither of them had many friends or even casual acquaintances, but it was a beautiful affair. Angelica’s dress was wispy and lovely. She looked like the aristocrat that she really was.
After they married and moved into her grand home, he found himself immersed in the life of the paranormal. He couldn’t believe how many lived in Chicago and yet they never did anything wrong that would alert hunters to their presence. It was still hard to admit to himself that what his father had always taught him was a lie.
It was during these days, spending time with members of the paranormal community, that he again heard about Fiona Guilfoyle, who was trying to eradicate all paranormal creatures and make this world a place run by witches. Angelica, at this time, was talking about starting a company dedicated to capturing paranormal criminal offenders, starting with her very own father, Vincent Cross, and then moving on to Guilfoyle.
When the arrow with the threat had been found at the scene of that ghoul’s murder, that was when her life came crashing down around her.
At that time, they were celebrating their twelfth wedding anniversary. Jonathan had gotten older and a little grayer, and she had yet to age at all. It was a frequent discussion in their home as to when she would turn him into a vampire, if she ever would.
“Jonathan, look, I love you for who you are. If I turn you, there’s no telling if you will remain to be the same person I fell in love with. The same thing goes for me becoming a full vampire. We might not be who we are anymore, and if you were to change, that would surely kill me.” She gripped his hands in hers. “Our humanity is what makes us who we are.”
“You’re cold,” he said. “You didn’t eat today.”
She shrugged. She had been on edge ever since the threat was made against her from Fiona. Feeding was the last thing on her mind.
“Come here.” He gently tugged on her hand and pulled her closer to him. He kissed her, feeling her fangs beneath her lips. “Please. I can’t see you languish, Angel.”
She kissed his face and then moved to his neck before she gently sank her fangs through his flesh, expecting to taste his sweet, hot blood on her tongue, as she had for over a decade now. But there was something wrong, very wrong. His blood was bitter and she nearly gagged on it. She spat it to the floor and he became alarmed that she was ill.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes widening.
“Your blood…Jonathan, there’s something wrong with it!” she said in alarm. “You need to go to a human doctor, now!” There were many doctors who knew that paranormal creatures existed, and so they went to one of them, so they could tell the truth about why they thought that Jonathan was sick.
