By the time I’d made it to my appointment, I’d settled down.

  It took death for me to find life and live again. After all, I wasn’t really a vampire.

  Finally, seated in the Order’s doctor’s office in a Charming Industries Building, Sethos, my new primary care physician, filled a vial of blood from the syringe in my arm. His ancient gaze rested heavily on me. I instead focused on the replica Titanic ship pushing out to sea that was broadcast on the flat screen television, reading the subtitles. A drone flew above to give the full view of the majestic eight hundred- and eighty-three-feet passenger liner, updating the audience on its departure and progress.

  “On what some considered being as close to a replica of the grand Titanic, everything is like the ship of its former glory, including the voyage route.” The news anchor held her mic tightly as wind whipped around her.

  I turned my attention back to Sethos.

  “You know, Leslie, you are truly special.” He seemed to be amazed by me, as much as he wished to poke and prod me. “I cannot recall one of your abilities ever having rested on my table.”

  No bandage was offered. In a couple of minutes, my skin would be healed where the needle had pricked. I rubbed my thumb over the spot, feeling a bit of tenderness only to have it quickly fade away.

  At least I could still feel.

  As long as I could feel, I was still alive.

  Sethos lifted the vial filled with eggplant-colored blood to the overhead light. “Marvelous.” He shook his head and muttered.

  Oh, how I felt like the Order’s guinea pig. He gave off a medical serial-killer vibe, but I was still honing my skills of what it meant to be a part of this world. With Alistair gone back to Scotland, I’d been thrust into the care of the nearby Order overseers—Beau Charming, the Order’s acting North American liaison and head, and Sethos here to watch my health.

  “Have you created a serum to undo this?” I asked.

  He chuckled, and I think he assumed it to be a joke.

  “No, no reversal is possible. But, you grow stronger every day. As long as you continue your—ahem—fish diet, you will become unimaginably strong, a force of nature, I dare say.”

  Okay, the little girl who still lived in the corner of my hopes and dreams would have loved for him to tell me that I was becoming a superhero. My secret identity could be that of the romance writer, while at night, I got to wear tight leather pants, wrestling boots, and carry hi-tech gadgets like I worked for MI-6.

  “How are you dealing with the transformation? Any new side effects?”

  The thing about doctors was that they expected us to answer honestly. Seated on the table, my leg shook. Maybe from leftover nerves or maybe from my knowing that Sethos had actually embalmed a pharaoh or two. Even now, he wore a golden scarab beetle tie clip.

  “Please tell me that I can eat again, anything but fish.”

  “Sorry, but your physiology is energized by blood, fish blood works the best. Now, our laws forbid the biting of humans. Many in the community feed on animals.” My “eww” face must have interrupted that assumption. There was no way I was going to hunt down a deer in hopes for a drop or two. “I have developed a supplement which will help you. Think of it as a base to go in any of your drinks. It’s powdered blood.”

  I stared at him. Was he for real? “Powdered blood?”

  “Yes, for you, powdered fish blood.”

  Again, my stomach lurched. I hated fish, the taste, smell, and the god-awful mixture of bones and blood that created my morning meal.

  “Human blood, I fear, comes with too many complications. It has been known to awaken an animalistic nature in many vampires, even the tamest of sorts. Let us not venture there.” He gave me a stern warning.

  This new stage was just a semi-colon in a long narrative. I could either change or go with the flow.

  Conceal those wounds, Leslie.

  Plus, I’d grown up too strong to admit weakness, even if the only tears allowed to flow were under the nonjudgmental showerhead or out in a torrential thunderstorm.

  “Tell me you have a silver lining for all of this?” I asked. “I need a boon, something to say well, ‘the sky may be falling but at least I got a pair of sparkly shoes for my pain.’”

  “The sunscreen continues to provide some protection, so you won’t burst into a cloud of ash if you take a trip to the beach. I’d still not advise anything over eighty degrees, though, and the weekly infusion continues to provide you with an array of essential vitamins. You may be a vampire, but you’re not quite dead.” Sethos snickered at his joke.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course, this is a safe space.”

  I paused to connect my words. “If the rogue vampires are still after me, what’s stopping them from getting me, and if I’m a sponge for magic, why haven’t I morphed into something around you? You’ve pricked me, made me angry, and still nothing. Can I not mirror you?”

  “A complicated question requires a complicated answer. You see, you do not yet have the age to control or fight against that which spawns your, as you call it, mirroring. You are like a colander, for lack of a better comparison. Some things, some magic moves through without problems, but your will catches others. I will have to look further into it to figure out the whys and hows.”

  Basically, (like me and the Order) he had no idea why I was different, or how to make me like I was before.

  I jumped off the table and shrugged into my leather jacket. At least I had one kickass piece of leather to wear.

  “Before you leave, Leslie. Alistair wanted me to return this to your side.” In Sethos’ hand was my sword, aptly named Spike. “He knew you were to visit me today, and had Beau deliver it to my care.”

  “No doctor-patient confidentiality?” I lifted a brow in question.

  “Those rules do not apply to the prince.”

  There was nothing like status-dropping than when a man as old as the pyramids could still give honor and due deference to the dragon who lorded over all of us, including me as the new member of this supernatural order.

  “You should hurry to your training session with Goose.” Sethos turned, grabbed my chart, and scribbled something on it. “He’s meeting you in the gym.”

  Alistair and I had come to terms. Although I wasn’t “officially” in the Order, as a supernatural I had to abide by their rules. But, I also needed to know how to protect myself in case another hit was placed on my head.

  A threat delayed was not a threat denied.

  With a casual wave, I took the elevator to the twelfth floor, where a lone wolf-shifter waited. Goose

  At six feet six, Goose was over a foot taller than me. In a white T-shirt and exercise shorts, like he was ready for an MMA fight, his thick arms were tatted up with various tattoos. Broad-shouldered and broad-framed, he shadowboxed, sweat dripped down from his low fade onto his chiseled face. Surely, prior to his entering the Order, he must have been a professional wrestler or an action movie star.

  “Hey, Leslie,” he said and ran a towel over his head. “I see you got the sword back.”

  In a perfect world, he was handsome, and I could have been attracted to him. This was no such case. Sigh. My heart belonged to Alistair, no matter how sophisticated Goose might have been. He’d been effectively placed in the friend zone.

  “I guess you’re going to ensure I can protect myself.”

  Goose nodded. “Alistair will have my head if I don’t.”

  “Why’s that?” I wondered, removing my sword from its sheath.

  “Didn’t he tell you? I’m your new bodyguard.”

  Sparring with Goose ended with my landing repeatedly on the mat. I was still waiting to unlock that level of innate fighting ability.

  Finally, walking down Broadway, with my sword concealed, New York traffic hummed around me, as pedestrians rushed one way or another.

  But what was in my hands almost made me wish to detour. The unopened letter from the district attorney crinkled loudly. I shoved it back into my coat pocket. Being this new creation, I wanted nothing more than for the SOB who threw me overboard of that cruise ship to pay. He preyed on women.

  If anything, this experience taught me that life wasn’t just—neither the human justice system, nor that for the supernatural world with the Order. Both would sit in judgment of who I was. Yet, what I was wouldn’t provide me with any justice, either.

  I didn’t need platitudes or weakness. I wanted a reckoning.

  The scent of Indian food caught on a breeze, and for a moment, distracted me with memories of delicious mango lassies. Something else I’d had to let go. I’d love nothing more than to head to my favorite restaurant, grab a curry that was so spicy, it made life overwhelming and exciting.

  There was no use in arguing about protection. Goose told me that I wouldn’t even know he was around. That should have helped ease my nerves, instead of filling me with unease. Now I couldn’t tell if the eyes watching me were filled with malice or mirth.

  Entering my building, I bounded up the stairs.

  Rounding the corner, the back of my neck tingled. I ducked my head and bit the inside of my cheek, bracing for the shitstorm to come.

  That itch was never wrong.

  The door barely slammed shut behind me when Gran appeared. My ghostly gran had a thing for making an entrance, and tonight was no different. Her ensemble made me think I was interrupting one of her dinner parties. Here, she sauntered around with a peacock-feather flapper headband, a blue-black flapper matching dress, and silver sparkly T-strapped heels. Her lips were painted blood-red, and the room smelled like cigar smoke.

  “Um, Gran, company?”

  It had been a long night and hitting the mat bruised my pride. I’d not improved one bit. I thought a night with tea might hit the spot, but rounding the corner, my dining room table was filled with ghostly guests.

  “What are you doing?” I asked Gran again.

  “The veil is thin tonight. Thought it might be fun to get some of my friends together so we could scare their kids, grandkids, and all.”

  “From my apartment?”

  “It’s an access point, dear. Last week while you were at your appointment, I was finally able to convince Ms. Xiphias to attend tonight’s shindig. She’s knowledgeable with the Greek oracle, and since you refuse to cast the runes again, I thought maybe she could help you.”

  A part of me might have wondered if I had the mental space to think about this, but I didn’t have time to consider my options when this beautiful older woman, with her white hair pulled back into a bun, was standing in my apartment.

  “You must be Leslie. Myrtle has told me so much about you.” She cast me a warm smile. She placed her hand on my shoulder and turned me away from the dining room and toward my kitchen. “I had to see you, as I’ve cast the oracle, and there is so much danger.”

  “Ms. Xiphias—”

  “No, call me Yia-Yia.”

  Finally, in the confines of my kitchen, she opened her hand and therein rested a shard of pottery. “So much is happening behind closed doors that you don’t see. But, I see that a target is on your back.”

  “Yes, I know—rogue vampires.”

  She shook her head. “No, dear, this comes from higher up. The Fates have shown this to me. I know not when it will come but be warned: Your blood has summoned a reckoning.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. Yet, I also couldn’t help but wonder if this had something to do with my best friend Sunflower being missing.

  “You will need to find the magic within, child.”

  I turned the shard over in my hand and stared at the etching of a trident.

  Why would a Greek god be after me?

  Chapter 2

  Sam Dolomite

  Nine days ago

  The gaps between the worlds were open, the time ripe for magic.

  Amid the towering chain of sandstone spires, in that of Externsteine, in the Teutoburg Forest, holy drums beat, summoning the faithful to this sacred space. There, on top of the tallest of the stones, in the prehistoric temple, a new fire burned.

  Many still left blood offerings to the gods at this sacred site.

  Sam Dolomite stood with his new brethren, and among them, they’d picked up one rumored to be a seer, and one representing the ousted dragon, Ásgeirr. So far, the woman seemed odd in her crimson cape, white-painted face highlighted with dragon runes and crimson scales.

  He stared at the map and again out at the landscape. He noticed how the area had changed a lot over the years, according to the map. He pushed up the sleeves of his indigo sweater and raked his incarnation’s fingers through his coal-black hair. What better place to honor his father’s memory than to awaken the sleeping here in his sanctuary?

  “Ragnar, our dragon lord will rise.” Cade, the vampire, chuckled and winked at him.

  “Why is he so important?” Sam asked.

  “I can give you a bit of a history lesson. When the treaty had been made between the pantheons, creating the eternal circle, Hephaestus, the son of Zeus, worked along with the cyclops and the dwarves to create certain prized relics. These relics were then distributed to the gods, even those who could never appreciate them, including Poseidon.”

  “So, you want to find a dragon to go after Poseidon?”

  “He is the weakest on the chain in possession of what we need.”

  Sam didn’t understand how Poseidon could play a part with them digging up a grave in Germany.

  “In Poseidon’s trident rests a drop of this primordial venom, which had created the giant, Ymir,” Cade continued, “whom the one the gods proclaimed to be evil, and thus slew. Ymir’s heart created the dragons, whose venom could then create the vampire: day-walking vampires.”

  “Woah,” Sam gasped. This was a game-changer. If vampires could again walk in the sun, what might that mean for all of his kind?

  “But why Poseidon?” he asked.

  “He is not well liked, and not too many will come to his aid should we find a way to take what he truly does not need. When Ragnar rises, we shall then have a chance at freedom, brother.

  Many believed that a dragon was buried here, and maybe one of the most powerful vampires if they could find them.

  The rogue vampires were not well organized, a loose group of vampires all focused on digging up what they’d located on the old map. He’d seen Internet chat rooms with more organization, but what they lacked in cohesion they made up with tenacity. Sam had received the order passed down through the shaky chain of command.

  “So the rumors are then true?” Sam asked. “Vampires are created by dragon venom? And other vampires can create vampires, too?”

  He needed confirmation. He’d remembered getting bitten. It wasn’t sexy or fun but painful like someone had poured hot oil on him, while yanking out his nails slowly, one by one. The pain did not lessen with the transformation until his first drink then, starting a thirst never satiated.

  “That mighty bite will allow the vampire to ascend anew.” Cade slammed his hand down on his shoulder. “Don’t you worry now. That was the thing with dragons and their essence. If killed improperly, they could always rise again. Think of it as his having an extended slumber.”

  Sam nodded as if he understood but remained unaware as to why he was there.

  But orders were orders, and he would not disappoint.

  Thus far, this new life had been different from any part he’d ever played in his career. Everything cast off a vibration around him. Sure, he’d been spiritual before, but this was not the afterlife he’d expected.

  He tried to inhale, to focus. It was as though he’d stepped into the eye of whirling chaos.

  A part of him wished to reach out to that of his former life. But he no longer worried as to why the reality he’d now found himself in had chosen him.

  The Order had decimated Sam’s plans only weeks earlier, where he’d barely been able to escape. But that was to be expected.

  For every move they made, he knew there had to be a countermeasure.

  Upon his initial change, Sam should have behaved like a regular new vampire—been blood-hungry, feral even. But something else had happened during his transformation. He recalled snippets of a sorcerer speaking an enchantment over him in a dank basement. Then, after rousing applause from those present in the chamber, he found himself with these new people, a part of a team searching for something lost? Unearthed, maybe? But still, he couldn’t shake the bizarre feeling that something was amiss. Maybe it was the leers from the others that they thought to hide behind pointed gazes, or the quips about time being inconsequential now.

  Magic pulsated around him, even under his feet. “According to the notes,” he said, “this is where we can find the first relic.”

  With pitchforks in hand, they hacked at the ground, breaking through the disintegrating stone floor. It crumbled with each new swing. The pitchforks were switched out for shovels, and the chanting continued.

  They piled the dirt into a large heap and dug ever deeper, until they reached what appeared to be a massive basalt sarcophagus. With a nod exchanged by the others, Sam jumped down into the pit. Wiping the dirt away, he discovered three Norse runic glyphs etched into the black stone: Fehu, Hagalaz, and Birkana. Energy, visible like lightning, sparked around the sarcophagus. His ears rang, his hands trembled as the sparks of energy danced across the sarcophagus, zapping his fingertips. It then rose, covering his hands and wrists to finally climb up his arms.

  But stuck, he couldn't move, glued into position at the whim of this blazing blue light. He threw his head back and screamed, his vision blurred, seeing what once should have been there in that dark cave, what once was home to a mighty beast.

  The energy consumed him. Whatever was in the sarcophagus was slowly being transferred into his vessel, his body.

  “Don’t struggle. You’re chosen for the rising dragon,” the group above him chanted in unison.

  He’d thought he was one of them, but instead gifted to that in the sacrificial pit.

 

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