Blood and Kisses - By Karin Shah Page 0,7

and peered up at the crumbling ceiling. His keen vision allowed him to trace every crack, despite the heavy shadows. Dusk, aided by the rain, had fallen early that evening. The sky, an oppressive, purple-gray, seemed eager to devour the horizon. It was impossible to see where the broad expanse of wind-ruffled lake terminated and the dense clouds began, giving the illusion he was looking at the ends of the earth. The weather suited his purpose, allowing him to walk the land before sunset, but still he shuddered. He hated rain. Perhaps when all this was over he would move on to some arid clime, maybe Arizona or Southern California.

He could go back home, but he liked the States. The food was good. People went missing here everyday and most Americans never gave it a thought. California, he decided. That was where he would begin his reign. Lots of undocumented people there. No one would notice if some disappeared. Definitely California.

But first, he had unfinished business.

The yellowed parchment he’d had the prophecy transferred to centuries ago had long since disintegrated, but that didn’t matter, the words were imprinted in his brain.

In the new world,

one lake of five shall be the site.

The ancient dead, but living,

shall attain great power

When the marked one dies

and a sacrifice is made

By one who rose long ago

from the grave.

Seers and their prophecies. Why couldn’t Inanna have just spelled things out? There wasn’t even any indication of a time period.

No matter, his internal clock told him this, at last, was the time.

He rose from the rickety bed, smoothing his black wispy hair with one crabbed, pointy-nailed hand. His attention was drawn to his desiccated flesh. His hooked nose wrinkled in repugnance; he could smell his own rot. The surge of power he’d derived from his last kill was fading more quickly than he’d expected. He would have to feed. And soon.

No matter. Feeding was a pleasure not a duty.

He cloaked himself with illusion and swept into the rainy night. The tired blood in his veins sang a little song of anticipation. It would be a little more difficult to find prey in this tiresome drizzle. The Red Wings baseball game at Frontier Field had been rained out, and only the regulars would be at the Tomb.

The Tomb. What a name.

He allowed himself a rusty chuckle. His adversary was nothing if not predictable. Although he supposed more than one hundred years ago, the name might have sounded original.

He found a sheltered doorway not far from the bar and settled in to wait.

Chapter 3

“Going somewhere?” Spotlighted by the twin beams of his headlights, Thalia stood before the hood of his black Jaguar. Rain sheeted off her hooded raincoat. Her hands were fisted on her hips.

Gideon sighed. He’d never doubted she’d find him, but he’d thought it would take her longer to track him down. “Get in.” He waited while Thalia slid into the passenger seat. “How did you find me?” A twinge of admiration at how quickly she’d located him softened his frustration.

“Tracking spell. I figured you’d try to dump me.” She glared at him. She looked like a snow leopard confronting a tiger. A very wet, angry snow leopard.

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m taking you back.” He put the car in gear.

“Forget it. I’ll just find you again. If you’re so worried I’ll get hurt if I come along, think what trouble I could get into on my own.” She smiled sweetly, batting her lashes.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” he said.

“Gideon, this is an honor.” The slim black vampire with the fifties-style, D.A. hairstyle bowed elaborately at his waist and swept a long-fingered hand behind him, inviting them into the bowling alley. A broad smile creased his narrow face, but Thalia thought she detected a hint of nerves beneath his extravagant welcome, a tinge of tension around his deep-set eyes.

“Richard.” Gideon strode into the cavernous building. His unbuttoned coat billowed behind him, shedding raindrops on the shiny wood floor. He sank into a molded plastic chair at the end of one of the darkened lanes.

Richard scurried to keep up, the rubber soles of his bowling shoes squealing on the wet floor. “And you brought the Champion?” He raised his eyebrows significantly in Thalia’s direction. “Naturally, you’re welcome, Gideon, but to bring a P—witch here?” His lip lifted in a sneer.

Gideon growled. In the blink of an eye, he was on his feet, hands knotted in Richard’s shirt, shaking the other man like a rag