Spooks & Specters: A San DeLain Short Story Collection

Chapter One

BAH. HUMANS.

They were fickle creatures with ridiculous lifespans who were, as luck would have it, filled with the substance of life. A substance that his species could not survive without.

What was that substance? Blood. Beautiful, hot blood that tasted divine. But humans were also vain idiots who had no loyalty whatsoever. Any good-looking vampire who whispered sweet nothings in their perfectly shaped ears could draw their attention and off they went.

Bah. Humans.

Couldn’t live with them and couldn’t slaughter them all unless vampire kind wanted to die out.

Raven glared at his reflection—yes, vampires could see their reflection—and applied black lipstick. He was looking rather spectacular, if he did say so himself, and he did. His long hair fell like a black waterfall to his shoulders, perfect as always. As usual, he wore dramatic makeup: smoky eye shadow, which really emphasized his black eyes, as did the exaggerated black eyeliner. The black lips were a nice touch too.

He wore a black Victorian Goth tailcoat with bold silver scrollwork down the front of the jacket and across the small of his back. The matching vest had large pearl buttons. His pants were black, as were his dress shoes. Very vintage, very Victorian Goth.

Grabbing his top hat—which was black of course—he waited for the elevator to arrive at his penthouse. One of his soldiers should have his black Corvette waiting for him. He was going to his club, Club Nomadic, and drowning his sorrows, even if it killed him.

Ha. He always enjoyed that saying because there was only one thing that could end his immortal life, and a simple drink wasn’t it.

Why yes, he was being rather dramatic. His primary feeder had just up and abandoned him with no warning whatsoever. Raven had invested two years of his immortal life—yes, he knew that was nothing in the grand scheme of things—into that human, and this was the thanks he got.

Bah. Humans.

Another vampire had turned the pretty little human’s head, and that was that. The little idiot left without another thought. Raven had been devastated. Devastated.

So he’d ease his broken heart in the hot body of the human variety.

Okay, fine, maybe his heart wasn’t broken. It didn’t beat for that human, after all.

The elevator arrived, and Raven swept into it. Besides, humans were a dime a dozen. The feeder who had abandoned him for another vampire—abandoned him, of all people—had not been Raven’s only source. Of course he wasn’t.

Raven kept several feeders, although technically he did not need blood as often as a younger vampire. He was almost a thousand years old, so he didn’t need the life-sustaining substance as much as younger vampires. But just because he didn’t need it as often didn’t mean he didn’t want it. Besides, he liked a variety. Who didn’t? AB negative was particularly divine.

Raven strolled through the lobby of the Sky Tower, a business/apartment building he owned. This was where his coven was located. Several of his people worked there, thus the business portion of the building, and everybody lived there. Feeders included.

The building was warded too. One simply couldn’t be too careful nowadays. Several of his soldiers loitered in the lobby, waiting on him to arrive. Annabel swept toward him, outfitted in a lovely Victorian Goth gown in a deep purple and black. Her black hair was piled up on her head in some complicated updo.

“Master.”

Annabel bowed her head slightly.

Raven’s title was Master of the City, or just Master, the city being San DeLain. This was his territory, and any vampire who entered had to report to him immediately or risk being hunted down and forcibly brought before Raven. It was just good manners. They were also required to notify Raven when they left his territory.

“Lady Annabel. You’re looking lovely as usual this evening,”

Raven said.

“Thank you. A couple of us were heading to Club Nomadic. Is that where you’re going?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Excellent. We will see you there, then.”

“Of course, my Lady. I look forward to it.”

Lords and Ladies were the most experienced and influential members of the vampire society outside of the Master. Raven didn’t have an official council or inner circle, but he did depend on his Lords and Ladies for advice. But he had the final word, just like when he rendered a decision if a law was broken.

Lady Annabel was somewhere around six hundred and fifty years old, or so he thought. She wasn’t as old as him, of course, otherwise she would probably be the Master of her own city. He dreaded losing her—she was that good of a friend and nothing more. Her tastes ran more toward the female variety.

Raven stepped outside, then paused to take a deep breath, which he did not need, of course. He was the undead. His heart had stopped beating nine hundred years ago. And while he did not need to breathe, he enjoyed sorting through the scents around him. The city was alive with a variety of smells—everything from humanity, cooking food, smog, and other paranormals.

But nothing triggered his sense of alarm. A soldier handed him his keys, and Raven settled himself behind the wheel of his latest acquisition. The machine was a thing of beauty and a beast.

He had other, more expensive vehicles, but this model had always had a soft spot in his heart. Why? Because he’d had a hand in designing the very first one. Raven had his finger in many of the human pies.

The engine roared to life, a subtle vibration underneath his ass. What a feeling. It was almost as satisfying as flying. Pulling out into the insanity that was San DeLain traffic, he took his undead life into his hands as he wove in and out between vehicles, his soldiers chasing after him.

RAVEN PARKED in front of Club Nomadic, got out, and tossed his keys to the valet. Of course these humans knew him—they belonged to him, as did every employee there.

This establishment was a well-known queer club in San DeLain and one of Raven’s favorite hangouts that he owned. The building was the size of a small warehouse and was actually very nondescript.

Inside was a completely different matter, with its exposed brick, concrete floors tinted black, open stairwells heading up to the second and third floors, awnings throughout, private nooks enclosed with drapery, heavy ornate black leather furniture, chandeliers, a rolling fog and dim lighting throughout, and a massive bar and dance floor.

The atmosphere was sexy and creepy, exactly what the patrons here wanted. Dress was pretty much anything goes—ten-thousand-dollar business suits to Victorian Goth like Raven was dressed and everything in between.

Raven nodded to several of his members as he walked inside.

The place was packed. The smell of salt and brine rode the air currents. Glancing about, he spotted a few merpeople. Their androgynous features marked their species. Like the vampires, they needed blood, but unlike the vampires, it didn’t have to be human.

A couple of magic users were there too. They tended to smell of ozone even when not using their powers. They blended in with the human crowd the easiest. A lone gargoyle sat at a table, his earthy scent tangy and fresh but also sharp. Seeing him was a surprise. They didn’t often leave their territories.

And there was also royalty in the house tonight—Hudson Redmond, King of the Fire Court of San DeLain. His trusted Right Hand, Conrad Turner, was with him. It was rare to see one without the other.

A few seconds later, Raven felt a gentle breeze as his soldiers appeared behind him.

“Dammit, Raven, you must stop doing that,”

Felix complained as he came to a halt beside Raven.

“But where’s the fun in that?”

“You’re going to be the death of me,”

Felix huffed.

“You worry too much,”

Raven said, patting Felix on the cheek.

Felix had short dark brown hair, blue eyes, and dimples when he smiled. He was one of Raven’s soldiers and had somehow ended up being a close friend.

“And you don’t worry enough.”

“Because you do enough for both of us.”

Raven tugged Felix toward the dance floor. “Come, let’s dance.”

He dragged Felix into the mass of wiggling bodies. The humans who mingled here who did not know of the paranormal world often came dressed as what they imagined vampires were, meaning fake fangs and red contacts.

It was also why Raven didn’t require his vampires to address him by his title when they were out in public. He didn’t need the constant reminder of who he was. He already knew he was the most powerful vampire in the Area.

An Area was a vampire’s territory. Any outside vampires, visiting or otherwise, were bound to the laws of that Area. Upon visiting, a vampire was required to make themselves known to the Master.

Drinks and food at his club fit the whole dark, vampiric vibe. Of course, there were drinks that actually did contain real blood, but those were not handed out to humans. There was no point in wasting such a precious substance. Vampires were unable to eat, but they could consume a liquid as long as there was blood in it.

Several of his coven worked here, and many were in their true form, and absolutely nobody batted an eye at it. And why should they? According to humans, there was no such thing as vampires.

Raven shoved all thoughts out of his head as he bumped and grinded on the dance floor, Felix danced close by, but the tenseness that had invaded Raven lately would not leave. Several of his soldiers had also joined him, although none of them actually danced with him.

Raven was a firm believer in not mixing business with pleasure. In other words, he did not have sexual relations with members of his coven. He had done so in the past, and it had never worked out. Hard feelings and petty jealousies were a poison his coven did not need; thus, he did not fuck his members. The human feeders were different.

A vampire’s bite could bring great pleasure or great pain, depending on which the vampire desired. Feeders were very aware of this and chose pleasure. That pleasure often led to sex. But his feeders had enough sense not to let feelings get involved. And if they did grow between a vampire and a human, the couple usually became monogamous so there wouldn’t be problems.

Did Raven have sex with his feeders? Some of them, yes. Did he care for them? Of course he did. Did he love them? No. He cared for them, he provided for them, he took care of them, and he would either turn them or set them free when their contract ended, but that was the extent of it.

None of them were his beloved—the person that he would spend the rest of immortality with. His soulmate. His everything. And so far, he had not met that person.

Not even Andrew, the human who had broken Raven’s heart, was his beloved.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Andrew had not broken his heart. More like he had slightly dented Raven’s ego. The cute little feeder had been Raven’s favorite, and Andrew had been well aware of it.

Then a vampire came before Raven for permission to visit his territory—which was San DeLain—and Andrew turned out to be that vampire’s beloved. Of course Raven would not stand in the way of true love. No honorable vampire would. Fine, he was jealous. Stark raving jealous of how the visiting vampire had reacted as soon as he had laid eyes on Andrew and how Andrew had responded.

Before the visiting vampire could do something stupid, like challenge Raven for Andrew, Raven had released Andrew from his contract, gifted him a tidy sum of money, and wished him well.

Raven had still been in a pissy mood when he had attended the first meeting of the leaders of San DeLain at Isadora’s restaurant. He had almost ended up on the wrong side of a very powerful paranormal leader—the Elder of the San DeLain daemons—because of Kage’s little human mate. He actually didn’t know who was scarier—Kage or Isadora.

Seriously, it was a toss-up. Neither of them could end Raven’s immortal life without a certain weapon that was practically impossible to find nowadays, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t make him suffer.

But that would cause his vampires to retaliate, and nobody wanted a war. They all had enough problems with the hunters currently in San DeLain.

But Raven had acted like an ass about Austin, and then he’d gotten his ass handed to him verbally, so to speak. More like he got his ego handed to him, which had been a hard pill to swallow, considering he was the strongest vampire in that Area.

But if another paranormal leader had treated his beloved the way he had treated Austin, Raven would’ve reacted the same way Kage had, so he didn’t have anyone to blame for his actions that night but himself. He was vampire enough to admit he’d messed up.

Still, it wasn’t something he liked to think about, even if it had all worked out and Nox was now dead.

A human male danced in front of Raven, his hands wandering over Raven’s chest possessively. There was a promise in his eyes that interested him. Now this… this was something he was more than happy to think about. He might take the human up to his office and fuck his brains out. In fact, it was rather tempting and might help him get out of his head for a bit.

Fortunately, he had already fed, so that was not a worry. At his age, blood rarely tempted him anymore. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time it had. Actually, very little interested him much anymore.

And why the hell was he thinking about that when he had this tasty human in front of him?