Chosen by Fate (43 page)

Nothing about his body had changed, but he moved like smoke, curling close and then away. The demon cocked its head and looked down. She saw it then: blackish fluid, spraying from the demon’s side. Merrick’s blade had connected.

Merrick smiled at the demon’s startled expression. “Come on. That can’t be all you’ve got. I got up before noon to get here.”

The demon roared and charged again. Merrick slashed and arced away, his motions fluid, almost acrobatic. The demon crumpled, moaning. Its guttural voice protested in Latin. “Impossible,” it said.

“Apparently not,” Merrick replied. His weapon rested casually near his thigh for a moment before he struck again, sinking the makeshift blade into the demon’s skull.

Alissa recoiled, her hands in tight fists. The demon stilled.

Merrick shook his head at the demon as its simmering flesh rotted rapidly into a lumpy puddle on the floor. “Not much of a peach after all,” Merrick mumbled. He turned then and looked around at the bodies before he glanced up into the surveillance camera. He seemed to be staring directly at them, though with his sunglasses on it was impossible to tell for sure. The corner of his mouth curved up.

“You can come out now,” he mouthed.

She blushed, embarrassed that he’d guessed that someone was hiding.

“Bastard,” Mr. Clark grumbled.

“How could he know we’re in here?” she asked.

“He doesn’t. He’s just guessing,” Clark said, walking to the refrigerator at the back of the room. “It’s all over. Sit and have some water.”

“No,” she murmured.

Onscreen, Merrick turned and strolled to retrieve his coat.

Alissa strode to the door and unlocked it, then darted out and down the corridor before Mr. Clark could stop her. The air from the ballroom smelled like asphalt and sulfur. She grimaced at the stench, but it faded as she reached the foyer.

Merrick seemed taller up close. At least six and a half feet.

Beautiful bone structure.
Even obscured by whisker stubble, she could tell.

“Mr. Merrick,” she said breathlessly. He smelled spicy and masculine. Unaccountably delicious. She was almost overcome by the urge to touch him. Was it the adrenaline rush that made him seem so attractive? She extended her hand. “Please accept my thanks—”

Merrick’s warm hand closed around hers just as Mr. Clark’s voice boomed down the corridor. “No! Let her go, Merrick.”

With his free hand, Merrick slid his sunglasses down, revealing eyes so dark they seemed to have no color at all, as black and gorgeous as midnight.

“This is an unusual party. First a demon, now an angel.”

“I’m not an angel.”

“Me either, as it turns out,” he said with a slow smile, then opened his mouth slightly to touch the point of his tongue to the tip of a fang. Fear sluiced through her veins.
Ventala.
The byproduct of the vampires’ desperate attempt to save themselves by breeding with humans.

In an instant, everything she’d learned in her World Studies class came rushing back. In the early 1950s, after their unexplained mutation, shape-shifting vampires in bat form had envenomated and drained millions. Initially, bats were thought to be the vector for a new strain of plague that was universally fatal.

Eventually, the truth was suspected as un-mutated vampires hunted in the wake of their shifting counterparts. When the muses inspired the development of the V3 ammunition, humans began to fight back effectively. The tide of human fury had been boundless, and savvy vampires lacking the “Bat Plague” mutation had stopped hunting and tried aligning themselves with mankind by taking human lovers and having children with them. Ventala. It hadn’t saved the vampires; it had only created a new race of bloodthirsty creatures for the world to contend with. Beautiful, deadly creatures, like the one in front of her.

Alissa studied him. Apparently amused by her surprised reaction to his fangs, Merrick cocked a mocking eyebrow. Alissa tried to withdraw her hand, but he held it. She blinked as the muzzle of Mr. Clark’s gun appeared, pressing against Merrick’s temple.

“I accept your thanks, Miss—?” Merrick’s deep voice hummed over her skin. His breath smelled like mint leaves, making her breathe deeper.

“Miss North,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady as her heart beat a riot in her chest.

His gaze flicked to her neck. She wondered if he could see her pulse throbbing there. Would he sink those teeth into her throat? Bleed her dry? He might, but he seemed so in control of himself. How was that possible if the ventala were just animals in the face of a muse’s blood? She knew she should draw back from him, but she didn’t want to.

Innocence and mystery don’t last long in each other’s company.
It was a quote she’d read long ago. She could taste its warning.
Don’t forget what he is.

“V3 bullets, Merrick. Unless you’d like parts of your brain leaking out of the holes I put in your skull, you’ll let her go,” Mr. Clark said.

Alissa grimaced. She was grateful to have the bodyguard with her, but she didn’t want there to be more violence. “This isn’t how the night should end, Mr. Clark. We’re in Mr. Merrick’s debt,” she said.

Merrick’s smile widened. “Beautiful manners to match the beautiful face.” His low voice sent a wave of heat through her. She was attracted to him. Still. Which was foolish and made her angry with herself. “I bet your boarding school education was expensive,” he said.

Yes, very expensive. And where did someone like you get educated? Charm school for killers?
Her lips were dry, but she didn’t dare lick them. She wouldn’t tempt him. Her blood alone should have been a temptation that he couldn’t resist. And yet he did resist, standing there so calmly. How? With a gun pressed to his head no less.

She swallowed slowly. “If you returned my hand, I think it would ease Mr. Clark’s mind.”

Merrick stared into her eyes. “Mr. Clark’s. Not yours, huh?” The corners of his mouth turned up in a mocking smile.

“Too bad I was so late to the party, Miss North. If I’d gotten here earlier, I could’ve asked you to dance.” His dark gaze seemed to light her blood on fire.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference. No matter when you’d arrived, I would have had to say no.” She cleared her throat. “Let go of my hand, please,” she said more firmly.

“Not a peach to be had,” he murmured, letting her hand fall from his. He moved past her in an instant, leaving Mr. Clark’s gun pointing at empty air. When Clark noticed, he lowered it.

Relieved, and yet inadvisably disappointed, Alissa turned to watch Merrick walk through the gaping hole that he’d blown in the front of the mansion to gain entry.

“Why did he come to save us if he’s one of them?” she asked.

“He didn’t come to save anyone here,” Mr. Clark said. “The demon was in the Varden last night, slaughtering them. Merrick came for vengeance. He’s an enforcer. A common killer.”

Alissa stared at the velvety darkness into which Merrick had disappeared.
Certainly a killer, but not common.

CHOSEN BY BLOOD
CHOSEN BY FATE