Chapter One
Nikolai Vasilyev was right in the middle of the shit, and it was exactly where he wanted to be. Shots erupted from two positions ahead of him and ricocheted off the abandoned cinder-block streetscape heâd been patrolling. Ducking into an alley, he felt a telltale whiz of air buzzing his ear and went flat against the concrete wall of the old factory. Inhaling the frigid, early winter night air, Nikolaiâs hackles rose and his fangs stretched out. His enemies were close enough he could feel their evil.
He wanted trouble. And he found it. Or it found him. Semantics.
Somewhere ahead, concealed among the long-neglected buildings, a band of Soul Eaters apparently had a sniperâs roost. Those demented murderers jeopardized the hidden vampire world by caving in to the lure of exsanguination. All vampires drank from humans, but only the Soul Eaters consumed human souls by drinking through the last beat of their hearts, then removing and eating it. Their addictive recklessness threatened to expose them all to the broader human world, and escalated the ancient war between the two rival strains of immortals.
Nikolai plotted out a plan of attack, the street taking shape in his mindâs eye like a 3-D simulator. Dark satisfaction pooled in his gut. Sending these little birdies flying from their nestâpermanentlyâwas going to turn this night from a miserable waste to decently tolerable. It didnât get any better than that for him. Not anymore. Not since heâd dishonored himself, and the Soul Eaters killed Evgeny and Kyril.
The hushed, efficient chatter of his warriors sounded in his earpiece and drew Nikolai from his thoughts. Torturing himself over his brothersâ deaths had no place out on the street. There was plenty of time for that while the sun kept him inside cooling his heels. He peeked over his shoulder and around the corner of the building. A volley of shots rang out and Nikolai growled a curse under his breath, his gaze swinging around to the rusted industrial street lamp illuminating his position. He sighted the bulb and squeezed off a single bullet that solved that problem, then turned, fell to a crouch and took another light out farther down the street.
âWhoâs got a lock on that gunfire?â came Mikhailâs voice through the earbud. His second-in-command was a consummate soldier and the only thing holding his kingdom together at the moment. Nikolai was man enough to admit that. âReport in.â
One by one, six of his finest warriors gave the all clear and confirmed their locations. Nikolai sighed. He didnât want to share this one. He didnât want to have to rein himself in. When he found the Soul Eatersâ position, he wanted to unleash the inhuman monster within, to surrender to the grief and rage boiling inside him as he tore his enemies to pieces with his bare hands and fangs. No fucking audience required.
As if they all didnât worry about him enough. He hated the weighted silences and sidelong glances that seemed to follow him wherever he went these days. Christ, he needed to release a little of the volcanic agony expanding in his chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. Hard to care.
An awkward silence passed before he heard, âMy lord, whatâs your area of operation?â Mikhailâs tone no doubt sounded level and professional to everyone else, but Nikolai recognized the wariness and exhaustion in his oldest friendâs voice. Guilt soured his gut. âI say again, my lord, whatâs your AO?â
Focusing on the task at hand, and not the way he was failing Mikhailâhell, failing all of themâNikolai did a quick ammunition check and ran through his mental plan one more time. He took a deep calming breath and centered himself, using his memory of the last time he saw his brothers, expressions frozen in death, to fuel his resolve.
âSon of a bitch, Nikolai, answer me. Youâre there, arenât you?â
With indecipherable words still ranting from the speaker, Nikolai tugged the unit from his ear and yanked it from around his neck. He dropped it to the ground and crushed the receiver with his boot, insuring no one could come behind him and eavesdrop on his warriorsâ movements.