“Good. It’s probably better if you don’t go out like a pu**y.”
With a perfectly timed head butt, he regained the advantage. I was skidding across the pavement before I could block the next hit. My back slammed against a parked car, knocking the breath from me. I braced, expecting him to try to finish me off. But when I looked up, he was just a blur in the distance.
He ran? Coward.
“Jez!” I shouted. In an attempt to stop him, I threw an energy ball, striking him dead center in the back.
He went down hard. Jez was a blur of black as she moved with supernatural speed. Bursting forth from the shadows, she was on top of Morgan before he could recover. I don’t think he realized he’d been impaled until the hilt of her knife was pressed against the base of his throat.
Blood poured from the wound. Jez continued to wiggle and grind the blade. The vampire struggled to speak through crimson lips as blood flowed out of his mouth.
“Do you like that?” Jez growled into his face.
Her golden hair had fallen free of her hair clip, her brilliant green eyes were pure cat. Morgan just stared into those leopard eyes in horror. I guessed that he’d never encountered a werecat before. They weren’t nearly as common as werewolves.
She was the only naturally born shifter that I’d ever known and one of only two werecats. Almost all Weres, like me, are infected through bite or attack. Of course, that was only if they managed to survive, which wasn’t likely. I was a teenaged kid lucky enough to survive an attack. I was the only one in my family who did.
Growing in adulthood with a thirst for the hunt hadn’t been easy. The man, to whom I’d looked for guidance, had been too wrapped up in his own self-absorbed world to notice that I needed him. Raoul Roberts had taken me in when I was sixteen. He had come at a time when I desperately needed him. My mistake was staying too long. Despite earning rank of Alpha female among my local town pack, I’ve done my best to cut ties with my former Alpha.
The title of Alpha had earned me little, least of all respect. My status did little more than provide minimal dominance over new werewolves. We were people first, and the animal hierarchy only crossed so far into our human world.
A much needed change had come several years ago when I was approached by Veryl Armstrong, paranormal investigator and vampire extraordinaire. Veryl had asked how I felt about taking out one of my own kind, a werewolf who liked little girls. I would have done it for free.
I worked regularly with Veryl and developed friendships with others who frequently supplied him with their services, like Jez. It just made sense to have someone as ruthless as me at my back. Hesitators wouldn’t keep me alive while hunting rogues like Morgan.
The vampire stared into Jez like she was the angel of death who had come at last, and I realized that a part of him was enjoying this.
“You like this, don’t you, you sick son of a bitch? Just like you enjoy cutting up pretty, little, rich girls while you drain them dry.” Jez’s right hand gripped the knife, and her left sprouted five perfect, razor-sharp claws. Morgan made a series of grunts and gurgles, but nothing coherent came out. He reached up with a strong hand for her throat, and she drove those claws into his guts.
This was getting too messy. I moved in to help her pin the vampire.
Morgan fought hard now, struggling against us furiously. I guess the game had lost its appeal. He didn’t want to play anymore. Now it was a fight for his so-called life. With a sudden burst of desperation, he flung us both backwards.
He came at me then as he pulled the knife from his throat with a slick, wet sound. A sickening laugh bubbled out from around the gushing wound. I tapped the power nestled in my core, throwing everything I had at him. It was just enough to buy Jez a few much needed seconds.
Jez retrieved my forgotten stake and, with a mighty blow, slammed it into his heart. I let my power fall away and staggered with sudden weakness. I leaned against the nearest car and fought to catch my breath.
Patrick Morgan burst into dust and ash. His remains rained down around us. A grin danced along Jez’s ruby red lips. It was infectious. I couldn’t help but smile. I loved my job.
Chapter Two
The short highway trek between the city and my hometown of Stony Plain took all of seven minutes. My town was special. Though it boasted of big city luxuries, it had a level of safety the city could never claim.
The population reached about 20,000. The town was cozy enough that most families knew one another but not so cozy that a stranger seemed out of place. I was glad to call it home.