The Undead Pool

“You!” I said, scrambling up and backing away from that same vampire I’d seen on the bridge. My pulse pounded at the absolute confidence and anger in his blue eyes. The room had gone silent, and my first impulse to blast him choked into dismay as he shook his head and held up a little lantern that was anything but, seeing as Jenks was in it, the pixy as mad as a wet banshee, the tip of his sword pressed into the corners as he looked for a way out. Shit, he’d caught Jenks.

I kept backing up as the dark-haired vampire crawled out from under the table, his lips pressed tight and eyes black as he dusted himself off. Mark was hiding behind the counter, and David had the blond one pinned to the floor, rifle at his chest.

“That belongs to me,” the Kisten look-alike said, soft with threat and promise. My heart pounded. His voice was higher than Kisten’s, and his face narrower. His hair, though, looked naturally fair, not dyed, and he smiled as he saw me look at it.

“Who are you?” I said, not expecting an answer as I backed up until a survivable eight feet separated us. I knew for a fact that Kisten didn’t have a brother, but vampires played with their children’s bloodlines as if they were Thoroughbreds. The man before me had probably once belonged to Piscary, discarded or traded like a duplicate card when Kisten showed the proper balance of domination and submission the master vampire preferred. No wonder they hated them, even as they were conditioned to love and die for them.

“Give me the mystics,” he said, hand shaking slightly and pupils slowly widening.

I shook my head, imagining Jenks among the broken shards, his dust slowly fading.

“Give me the mystics!” he screamed, and I jumped, startled into pulling on the line and making my hair float.

“Back off,” I whispered to David. “Give him back his man.”

In a sliding sound of fabric, David pulled back from the man on the floor. I’d made the newly arrived vampire lose his temper, and clearly that bothered him as he flipped his hair out of his eyes. Shoulders back, he took several cleansing breaths. Maybe it was his temper that had made him unsuitable, because by God, he looked perfect. Perfect and untouchable.

“I’m Ayer,” he said, voice creeping over my skin and raising goose bumps. “If you want this back alive, give me my mystics.” He gave Jenks a shake to make sure there was no question.

“Okay.” I stood up straight, looking to buy some time. David was limping as he joined me, wiping the blood from his cut lip and scowling. “Tell me why you want them,” I said, and a hint of bitterness stained Ayer’s perfect beauty.

Motions slow, he went to help the blond vampire up, setting Jenks on the table before extending a thin hand to his friend. “I hear you almost lost your life trying to save Ivy,” he said as he tugged the vampire’s shirt.

I nodded, glancing at the empty parking lot. Edden, where in hell are you?

“Then you know why. The masters use us like things. It has to end.”

“By killing them?” I said, looking past him to the streets emptied by fear and the vampire and Were graffiti mixed like continuous acts of aggression. “We can’t survive a second Turn.”

“We can’t survive without it,” he said, and my eyes flicked to his arm, only now noticing the long burn visible in glimpses through a tear in his shirt. His clothes, too, were dirty, making me wonder if he’d been involved with the mob at the arena. “Give them to me. I’m not going to ask again.”

“I agree the current system sucks,” I said, wondering if I could break the lantern without cutting Jenks to shreds. “Putting them to sleep isn’t helping. Or haven’t you bothered to take a look past your carefully constructed blinders?”

“Blinders!” I jerked when Ayer shouted, and David warned him off with the rifle. “You saw what they did to Ivy. How can you talk about blinders when I know she’s ripped them from you? Look at me!” he bellowed, shocking me with his shift from calm to furious. “I was bred like an animal to someone’s specifications, abandoned when another pleased him more!”

And jealousy will make him more dangerous. “This isn’t about Ivy. This is about you murdering the undead!”

His teeth clenched, but with a visible effort he calmed himself, leaning back against the table and crossing his ankles to look relaxed. I knew he wasn’t; I could almost see the pheromones rising from him and prickling along my skin. Behind him, the two vampires were exchanging worried looks. “It isn’t murder if what you kill has no soul,” he said softly, his hand going atop Jenks’s prison to block the pixy’s view, and suddenly the container was full of a black dust. “Give me the mystics.”

He picked up Jenks, and David grabbed my arm, keeping me where I was. “Look, those waves you’re pulling out of my line aren’t simply powering your lullaby,” I said as I shook David off. “You’ve divided a communal mind, and she’s looking for them!”