Free Honor Calls by Caridad Piñeiro Page A

likely to go.
    If she could beat him there, she still might be able to take him out before he reached the safety of the nightclub.
    Hustling at breakneck speed, she arrived at the mouth of the small cobblestoned street that led to the Blood Bank. At the club’s door was the ever-present vampire bouncer and crowd of humans waiting to mingle with both wannabe and real vampires. Not to mention the occasional shape-shifter brave enough to cross into bloodsucker territory.
    Michaela had never understood the human fascination with the undead, the near veneration for the amoral creatures who had taken so much from her and others.
    Vampires weren’t meant to be idolized, she thought.
    They were meant to be exterminated.
    As she felt the presence at her back, she realized she had guessed right about the vampire elder.
    She had barely half turned to face him when he lashed out at her, nails as sharp as eagle’s talons raking across her jacket. The leather did its job, keeping his nails from tearing into her flesh.
    Bending backward, she avoided the deeper thrust of another vicious swipe toward her midsection and then dropped down to sweep the vampire’s feet out from under him.
    He landed with a thick thud, while she was immediately back on her feet after a quick jerk and launch of her body, a nice sharp wooden stake in her hand.
    “Not what you thought, fang boy?” she taunted as she stood, arms akimbo, above the prone body of the stunned elder.
    With a swift move of his own, the vampire surged to his feet, fully transformed. His eyes glowed with a piercing teal-blue light. Long deadly fangs erupted from his mouth and ended at a point below his chin. Such a prodigious length of tooth testified to his longevity. The strength of his elder power jabbed at her senses, threatening just by its very existence.
    This vamp would not go quickly, she thought as the elder issued a warning growl and lunged at her again, beginning a dance that could end in only one way….
    With one of them dead.
     
    Frustration clawed at his gut as he stared at the picture of the latest victim found torn apart in a downtown alley. As he flipped through the status report on the investigation, a familiar name appeared in the FBI case report.
    The Blood Bank.
    FBI Assistant Director in Charge Jesus Hernandez expected a fair share of crime in a city like New York, but judging from how often the edgy Goth bar appeared in the reports provided to him, the Blood Bank appeared to be crime central.
    He supposed the easy way to find out more about the club would be to ask any of the agents in his bureau what to make of the place. But he hadn’t gotten to be one of the top agents in the New York City Bureau by taking the easy way. On the contrary. He believed in personally getting involved when it was necessary.
    As he picked up the file again and examined the photo of the body parts found a couple of blocks from the bar, he raked his hand through his short-cropped hair and blew out a disgusted breath.
    He’d read the witness statements. Tales of creepy happenings and Goth clubgoers who might be a little more than they seemed.
    Even his top agent—Diana Reyes—seemed to believe in the possibility of an underworld that was less than human.
    It was definitely time for a visit to the Blood Bank to get his own impression.
    Memorizing the address, he rose from his desk and slipped on his suit jacket. For a moment he considered going by his apartment to change, certain he would look out of place in his expensive suit.
    But his apartment would be seriously empty. His last lover had moved out nearly a year earlier, complaining about the time he devoted to his job. Considering that the living room still boasted only the recliner and the plasma television he’d bought after she’d left, she had probably been right.
    Plus, as he mentally reviewed the contents of his closet, he knew he had nothing suitable to wear to a Goth bar anyway.
    Best just to drive by the place, scope