Free Other Worldly Ways (Anthology 1) by Connie Suttle Page A

neck of our rogue with a single pass, too, and then stood to the side while the girl slumped to the ground, unconscious. I worked at becoming corporeal.
    Joey was still standing there, staring as his handiwork flaked away, turning to a dark ash. I knelt and healed the bite marks on the girl's neck, licking them lightly. I hated doing that, but Joey still had a stunned look on his face, so I didn't want to ask him. Lifting the girl, I headed out of the alley. She'd need medical attention, so we had to do our best to see that she got it. "Come, Joey," I said. He followed like a robot.
    I placed compulsion on the proprietor of an all-night convenience store to call an ambulance after Joey and I left, and removed the memory that we'd been there to begin with. I hoped the girl would live; she'd lost a lot of blood and wasn't looking good, but we'd done what we could. Joey was still in shock, I could tell. I steered him into a bar after a while.
    "Joey, you did well. Is that your first kill?"
    He could only nod at my question. I sat back in my seat and looked at him, then glanced around the room, finding a likely candidate. He wasn't ugly and was quite drunk—both things advantageous for my purposes. "Follow me, Joey," I said, and he was right behind me when I walked up to the drunk at the bar. I laid compulsion and led the man outside, Joey still behind me. We found a shadowy corner nearby, and I pushed the man toward Joey.
    "Drink," I said. Joey looked at me as if I'd lost my mind.
    "You just killed someone. You need this," I jerked my head at the man, who was only too willing to stand there, blank-eyed and empty-minded.
    "Adam, I don't like to do this," Joey moaned.
    "Look, this is the only way we can get drunk. You know that. Drink. I'll stop you when you've had enough." Joey looked at me in surprise. He reluctantly bent his head to the man's neck. I didn't have to stop him; he was able to do that for himself, and I sent the man back into the bar with compulsion afterward. He would be weak tomorrow, with a hell of a hangover.
    Joey was wobbling, now; the man had been drunker than I thought. I lifted Joey into a fireman's carry and hauled him off to my apartment.
    I own the building where I live, and made alterations to suit me when I moved in. The penthouse was mine; it was alarmed and secure, and all the windows bricked over. I put Joey down on the sofa; he was blithely singing nonsense, so I ignored him. I made the call to Stephan first; this had been his target, after all.
    "Stephan, here," came the curt answer on the third ring.
    "Where's your target, Stephan?"
    "Somewhere in London, I think. I'm here, now, but I can't get a handle on him yet."
    "Well, stop trying. He's dead."
    "You got him?" Stephan didn't sound surprised.
    "Yes. Less than two hours ago, actually. Let the Council know."
    "All right." Stephan hung up. I'd called his cell; he almost always carried it.
    "Do vampires get hangovers?" Joey's words were slurred as I walked past him to get to my bedroom. I needed to pack again.
    "No, Joey. They just stay drunk for a bit, then it's business as usual."
    "Oh. Too bad. I was having a flashback to my undergrad days."
    "And that was only five years ago?"
    "Yeah."
    "Do you want to go home and pack, or do you want to stay here? We can buy clothing for you in New York." Dawn was about two hours away, which left little time for Joey to do anything except sleep off his inebriation.
    "I'll stay here." Joey waved an arm in a grand gesture. "That was cool, Adam, watching you turn to mist."
    "Yes. I'm sure it was."
    "Too bad it takes so long."
    "Yes." I was in total agreement with that. Turning to mist was a means for stealth only. It allowed us to spy on just about anyone, but not to make a kill—we were vulnerable during the changing. I finished packing, made a few more calls and prepared for bed. At least we'd accomplished one thing tonight, but were no closer to our original quarry.
    * * *
    "Merrill, I have an