Fangs of Fate (Untish #1)

Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

TATE

The Glenn was abnormally quiet. I had just pushed through the veil and had to do a double-take of the wall. Security had been increased, significantly. Where two or three guards once stood at the perch, there were now seven or eight. The entrance that was usually manned by two guara, was now manned by six on the outside of the gate and six on the inside. I’d never seen the veil so heavily manned, and certainly never the exit so thoroughly monitored. A chill crawled down my back as Chance’s warning echoed through my mind. Something was off, or worse, something was coming .

“Tate Aaralyn, you’re late to check-in,” the guard informed me as I approached the archway to enter the city, his shadow flickering in the torches’ light. It was just past dawn this side of the veil.

“Give me a break, I’m three minutes late.”

“Protocol. Search her.” Two other guards approached and quickly patted me down, emptied my bag on the table—fingered my vibrator, bastards—before nodding to the lead guard.

“Reason for your delay?” He motioned for me to collect my items, now strewn about in the metal tray.

“I fell in love.” His eyes snapped up to mine. “He’s human, tastes delicious…and his blood tastes good too.” I winked at him. His complexion darkened as his eyes narrowed. Males.

“Relax, I just slept in this morning. Lots of traffic getting through the veil you know, those semi’s really back things up.” His eyes were dead. Pfft. My humor was wasted on him.

“Wait here.” He walked away leaving the other two guards to watch me while he made a call. A moment later he returned, looking oddly tense.

“When is the last time you spoke with Fletcher Backshy?” His question threw me. Was Fletch in trouble? Was Chance messing with me because I rejected him?

“The night before I left for my shift at the clinic. Why?” My pulse quickened.

He didn’t respond and instead, stepped away again and began speaking into his shoulder, likely speaking directly to Chance or whoever was currently in charge of wall operations.

“You may enter, but if you are late again, we will be revoking your world-walking pass. I am also to inform you this is your second strike. A third will result in sentencing with possible forced conscription to the guara. I recommend not missing your Disciplinary Hearing this evening.” He stepped aside, as did the other guards, and I passed through the arch.

Tension was blooming everywhere, my chest included. Why did they ask about Fletch? Was this really because of his myths? Or had someone spotted me shifting the other night?

My head was buzzing with questions. The high from my recent feed was still strong, heightening all emotions, including my anxiety. I clenched and unclenched my fingers. Likely, Fletch would know the answers. He usually had the inside scoop on these things and there was so, so much I wanted to discuss with him. The extra guards were honestly the least of my concerns.

Self-consciously, I pulled down my jacket sleeve further to cover my hand. It had stopped glowing a while ago, but I didn’t know the cause and I didn’t want it to start shining again. Not for one minute. Certainly not around the guara.

The streets were beginning to get more populated as the blood sun was cresting the sky in the east. I always found it amusing how the time veil side and here didn’t align perfectly. Roughly, it was nearly nine AM human time and five AM vampirical Glenn time.

The tingling sensation I’d felt earlier had returned and I wasn’t sure what to make of it; I felt oddly stronger and yet, more vulnerable than ever. Is that what power was?

Making a left down Main Street I headed for the outskirts of the village. Not long ago I was breathing fire. Fire. I didn’t know how that was possible and wasn’t sure it had actually happened. Perhaps, it was a hallucination of my overactive mind and remnants of a blood-drain. That spoiled skin-bag could have been doing drugs, maybe it just passed into my system.

Something strange was going on and while the logical part of my brain assured me I was just tired, it also suggested something was wrong and a visit to medical could be helpful. But doing so also meant President Dale would find out and that was the last thing I wanted. Especially given my shifting gene. Thankfully the blood draw at the clinics were for show and vampire blood, once this side of the veil, was to be dumped as feeding from one another was strictly prohibited.

I inhaled the sweetness of the air. A defining trait of the Glenn’s atmosphere as opposed to the human realm. The light was just beginning to color the sky—streaks of red, orange, and yellow danced across the auburn clouds. Our home appeared up ahead, nestled into the side of a hill, the grass was backlit from nearby torches, highlighting its browning color and the dead leaves that dotted the hill. The oversized maple tree that sheltered the house was beginning to transition to fall.

This was home. It had always felt like home, even now with Mom gone and Fletch living in her stead, I still felt the warmth of its embrace. I reached the door and turned the handle. Locked. Odd, Fletch usually left it open for me since he was disturbingly aware of my schedule. Perhaps he’d forgotten or had gotten wasted again?

He should be home; classes wouldn’t commence for about three more hours, around eight-thirty. I pulled out my keys and unlocked the door, then entered the home.

“Fletch?”

No response came. The place was dark with the window coverings pulled close. I shuffled through the kitchen, setting my bag on the stone counter, before grabbing the lighter and reaching for the torches. One by one, I lit all four in the main room, their light casting the room in a cozy glow. Empty. He wasn’t in the living room. I padded down the hall to his room and found the door ajar, he wasn’t home. Frustrated, I heaved a sigh and made my way back to the living room. It was cast in a comforting orange glow.

Fire was such an odd thing; it could kill us and yet it brought comfort. A juxtaposition my mother had loved dearly; the thing that gave us a comfortable existence could also take life. I headed toward the couch and kicked off my shoes.

Fletch’s bag sat beside the chair across from me, contents sprawled across the linen cushion. He would never leave for the school without his bag, he rarely went anywhere without it, so where was he?

Exhaustion pulled at my senses. I needed sleep. Thank blood I had some time before my next shift at the clinic. After being up all night and the weird withdrawal or shifting aftermath, my body demanded sleep. A bottle of wine sat at the foot of the couch, a staple where Fletch was concerned. I picked it up and popped off the cork before taking a long drag. Bloodwine, always the good stuff. From the taste I could tell this was vintage—the wine was thicker than normal, meaning a higher blood to liquor ratio. Just the way Fletch liked it. More nourishment and less buzz.

Pulling an oversized pink blanket, one of the few frilly things I still owned, up over my lap I nestled into the couch’s brown leather, savoring its warm embrace. The wine began to heat my belly and calm my fears. This was good, I’d just relax here like this until Fletch got back—surely, he’d be home before classes began to gather his bag. And when he did, we’d talk. Then I’d have answers before the den of wolves tried to devour me with their questions. I took another long drag and let my mind begin to numb.

I stayed like that for a couple of hours. The numbing bliss was quieting the anxiety. The clock showed it was seven forty-five. Fletch still had not come home. Old nerves returned. Where was he? My phone dinged, startling me. I threw back the blanket and made my way to the counter where my bag sat. Digging out my enhanced rectangular device, I squinted against the bright blue light of it.

Hey babe, what you up to? Just got off my night shift—went late, again. Thanks, boss. Anyway, I still have some energy, want to come over?

I knew what Tim wanted and perhaps he’d make the perfect distraction. I pushed back some stray golden-blonde hair and shot back a quick response.

Yes, a visit to Tim would be the perfect distraction and provide me intel for my next feed. Screw Fletch for not being here. I wasn’t going to stay here waiting all day. No, I had a life to live. I jotted down a quick note to Fletch, letting him know I was pissed and needed to chat, then turned out the torches. I opened the door and left; the blush blanket crumpled on the wine-stained floor next to the half-empty bottle.

The bed creaked as Tim thrusted from behind. He was getting on my nerves—again. At least this way I didn’t have to look at him. I could hide some of the cringes breaking out across my face. This sweet detective was utterly clueless when it came to the female anatomy. I could give him points for one thing though, he’d taken my mind off of Fletch and the guara—well, he had until now.

He grunted as he pushed forward again, my core heating with the friction. He really enjoyed sex. Not that I minded much, but sometimes the routine of it all was unrousing. The sex was tolerable, good even by human standards, but painfully bland. His moves never changed; it had become very routine. In about one minute, he’d climax with the most obnoxious grunt and then roll me over to pull me into a sweaty hug. I sighed, audibly.

Oops.

“Everything ok?” he asked, his voice strained as he paused his movement. Shit, I needed to fix this quickly.

“Great, don’t stop,” I said.

“Tate, if this isn’t good for you, we can try something else?”

“No, no. It is great.” I tried to keep the panic from my voice. Tim couldn’t handle what I really wanted, what I craved. I was too strong for him and the kind of mind-blowing orgasm I wanted would break him, quite possibly, literally. But he didn’t need to know that. He was my distraction and my informant. I needed him in more ways than to merely sate the physical.

“Really, this is amazing. I was just about to climax.” I tried to sound flirty, but it came off irritated. He pulled out. Not good.

“Tate, what’s going on? Did I do something to hurt you?”

“No, really, I’m fine. It’s just been a hard week and I’m still feeling a little lightheaded.” At that he climbed off me completely, I turned around to meet his eyes. His hairy chest was gleaming with sweat and his erection instantly shrank as he settled back onto his knees. It was a respectable size when it was fully enlarged, but still only by human standards. There were certain vampire traits that were true gifts, and the reproductive organs were one of them. Well, that and an increased sex drive coupled with passion that Tim could only ever imagine. I was the best he’d ever had; he’d told me that and I wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. Who could compete with vampirical prowess?

“You’re not feeling ill still? Maybe we should take you back to the clinic?”

“Tim, the results were negative and just showed I was dehydrated and needed to up my potassium. Stop worrying about me and how about we finish what you started.”

Men liked that, to feel in control. Even this boy scout’s ego appreciated feeling sexually macho. I climbed up onto his lap and settled down, hovering just over his now erecting manhood.

“Tate, I don’t know. If you’re not feeling well, I wouldn’t want to—” But his protests were cut off as I settled down onto him, squeezing as I went, eliciting a moan from his lips.

“Oh heavens, you are amazing.”

Naturally, I was. But it was time to get a little pleasure out of this encounter and perhaps I could push him a tiny bit further than normal. I let out a little whimper and then pushed myself up, using my hands on his shoulders, before slamming myself back down. The friction was divine, and I began to feel the tingling sensation of pure pleasure. I repeated this motion building on the desire burning within. Harder, faster, better.

I ignored the insane amount of body hair that began to brush my bare breasts and instead relished in the way his warmth teased my taut buds. He groaned and it was all the encouragement I needed to bury my hands in his hair and lower us to the mattress. I closed my mouth over his and slipped my tongue inside. I sucked and pulled at his tongue, groaning as I did so. This was actually good. Perhaps I’d learn something new.

I continued to rotate my hips and impale myself on him, up then down, and repeat. He began to meet me thrust for thrust and reached even deeper within. His hands settled on my hips, and he began to move even faster. Good, but fast. Too fast, at this rate he wouldn’t last. I stiffened my arms attempting to slow him down, but it was too late.

He tensed and grunted out loud. It was over. He pulled out and then pulled me onto his now gleaming chest.

“So good.” He yawned.

Clearly, I’d just worn him out. With a peck to the head, he closed his eyes and dozed off, completely sated while I burned with desire. This was never going to last. I really needed to find a better informant.

Climbing out of bed I went to the kitchen to get my purse, the vibrator inside saw more action and gave me more pleasure than Tim likely would in his lifetime. My bag sat on the chair just inside the kitchen nook; the old yellow table’s paint was chipping. It, like this apartment, had seen better days. They really didn’t pay law enforcement enough.

Tim’s laptop sat on the table next to a stack of manila folders. I hesitated. The point of this whole thing with Tim was to get info, to find my targets, and make the city safer for women and those who were vulnerable. The one good part about sex with him was that he was a heavy sleeper and usually passed out for a bit after a good come—especially when he completed a late-night shift like he just had.

Sucking on my fang, I set my bag down and opened his laptop. Entering the password I’d figured out months ago, his mom’s name and birthday, I opened the police database. He had several open tabs in the browser. I scanned over them. All searches for people with the same last name: Johnstain. Allie Johnstain, Ben Johnstain, Carter Johnstain, the list was long. They were all listed as missing.

Allie Johnstain’s file caught my attention. I enlarged it. She was pretty with bright red hair that was bluntly cut at her shoulders. Pale skin scattered with heavy freckles and brown eyes that were incredibly striking given her complexion and hair color. A rare combination. A beauty. Was that why she was taken? I began to read the notes, scrolling through the general data and timeline. She disappeared three weeks ago. She was nineteen and went to OCU; a freshman majoring in marine biology. Smart.

She was last seen on campus heading to the dorms. This could be a good case; if I could find the perp responsible, I could feed, leave him alive with two puncture marks, a new public case of the virus. He’d become a leper and never hurt another woman again. Did one of the Johnstains take her? I clicked on Ben’s file. When females went missing, often a boyfriend or family member was responsible. He disappeared three months ago, which meant he likely wasn’t the one responsible for Allie. Unless…he was the master planner?

I bit my lip as I clicked on the next file, Carter Johnstain. He too had shocking red hair, pale skin, and splashes of freckles. Clearly, they were related, likely a sibling. Only, while Allie had breathtaking brown eyes, Carter’s were rather boring and common. I glanced through his casefile’s main notes. He’s been missing since last year. Odd. Reading further I saw what I was looking for. Carter was Allie’s brother, and Ben was their uncle. Bingo.

What were the odds of three people who were related to each other going missing over the span of a year?Were they all disappearing of their own free will, or was someone systematically targeting them?

I glanced down to the paper on the table and noticed Tim’s handwriting. He had jotted several notes but two in particular caught my attention.

Family lines disappearing. Johnstain line is vanishing, could it be like the Culbecks? If so, why?

And the other note was a bit more alarming.

Why the sudden uptick in missing persons? Gari connection? Targeting certain blood. Could it be related to the virus? Willa and Norman Johnstain, 143 Julber Street.

My pulse quickened, of course the virus wasn’t to blame…but a nagging feeling began to set in. Could we be overfeeding again? Was there a stray serial vampire who was out there selecting bloodlines and eliminating them? We had a case like that fifty years ago, it was dealt with via public execution in the Glenn. Could it be happening again? Was I now hunting one of my own? Or worse, was this somehow connected to Chance’s warning and the increased guara?

I pulled up the missing persons from the last month in the system. The number on the screen couldn’t be right. Seven hundred people? Looking at last month, the number was just over four hundred. I expanded my search to the past six months. Nearly two thousand missing persons had been reported, from this small city alone. The population here was just over five hundred thousand.

Clicking on the data from this time last year, I selected a span of six months. The number was significantly less. It was just shy of nine hundred. Going back five years, the numbers showed about three hundred missing persons in that span; ten years, and the number plummeted to about two hundred. Over the course of six months, ten years ago only two hundred people were reported as missing. And now, the same stretch nearly reached two thousand?

The pit of my stomach soured. How many of these people were related? I entered Johnstain and hit search over the span of five years in the missing person’s database. Nearly forty-eightJohnstains had been reported missing. My mouth went dry. I typed in Culbec and hit search. Seventy-eight Culbecs went missing in the same five-year span fifty years ago. That wasn’t normal.

Was there something special about the Johnstains and Culbecs? If they came from a line of unturned vampires, they could, in theory, have magic and their blood which, according to myths, could enhance that of the vampire who drains them—or damn them. But where were the bodies? I reselected all Johnstain missing persons and clicked on ‘closed’.

None. The search field was empty. A sigh escaped me. I searched next for any corpses within the files, maybe bodies were recovered but their murderers never caught. The computer froze, the icon in the middle spinning; I tapped my fingers on the wooden table, patience was never my strong suit. Finally, it loaded. Again, it showed none. Not one single body from the missing Johnstains was recovered. That seemed impossible. With the last serial vamp, he left a trail of bodies. Where were all the missing Johnstains?

The questions were pulsing through my head. I needed a distraction. Glancing at my bag, I knew the perfect one and it had five settings. I smiled as I grabbed my purse and headed for the shower.