Chapter One
She walked among them undetected, just another afternoon rush-hour commuter trudging through the fresh February snowfall on her way to the train station. No one paid any mind at all to the petite female in the hooded oversized parka, her scarf concealing her face to just below her eyes, which watched the crowds of human pedestrians with keen interest. Too keen, she knew, but she couldn't help it.
She was anxious being out among them, and impatient to find her prey.
Her head rang with the pound of rock music blaring in through the tiny earbuds of a portable MP3 player. It wasn't hers. It had belonged to her teenage son--to Camden. Sweet Cam, who'd died just four months ago, a victim of the underworld war that Elise herself was now a part of as well. He was the reason she was here, prowling Boston's crowded streets with a dagger in her coat pocket and a titanium-edged blade strapped to her thigh.
More than ever now, Camden was the reason she lived.
His death could not go unavenged.
Elise crossed at a traffic light and moved up the road toward the station. She could see people talking as she passed them, their lips moving silently, their words--more important, their thoughts--drowned out by the aggressive lyrics, screaming guitars, and pulsing throb of bass that filled her ears and vibrated in her bones. She didn't know precisely what she was listening to, nor did it matter. All she needed was the noise, played loud enough and long enough to get her into place for the hunt.
She entered the building, just one more person in a river of moving humanity. Harsh light spilled down from fluorescent tubes in the ceiling. The odor of street filth and dampness and too many bodies assailed her nose through her scarf. Elise walked farther inside, coming to a slow pause in the center of the station. Forced to pide around her, the flowing crowd passed on either side, many bumping into her, jostling her in their haste to make the next train. More than one glared as they passed, mouthing obscenities over her abrupt halt in the middle of their path.
God, how she despised all of this contact, but it was necessary. She took a steadying breath, then reached into her pocket and turned off the music. The din of the station rushed upon her like a wave, engulfing her with the racket of voices, shuffling feet, the traffic outside, and the metallic grate and rumble of the incoming train. But these noises were nothing compared to the others that swamped her now.
Ugly thoughts, bad intentions, secret sins, open hatreds--all of it churned around her like a black tempest, human corruption seeking her out and hammering into her senses. It staggered her, as always, that first rush of ill wind nearly overwhelming her. Elise swayed on her feet. She fought the nausea that rose within her and tried her best to weather the psychic assault.
--Such a bitch, I hope they fire her ass--
--Goddamn hick tourists, why don't you go back where you belong--
--Idiot! Outta my way, or I'll friggin' knock you flat--
--So what if she's my wife's sister? Not like she wasn't after me all this time-- Elise's breath was coming faster with each second, a headache blooming in her temples. The voices in her mind blended into ceaseless, almost indistinguishable chatter, but she held on, bracing herself as the train arrived and its doors opened to let a new sea of people pour out onto the platform. They spilled around her, more voices added to the cacophony that was shredding her from the inside.
--Panhandling losers ought to put the same effort into getting a damn job--
--I swear, he puts his hand on me one more time, I'ma kill the sumbitch--
--Run, cattle! Run back to your pens! Pathetic creatures, my Master is right, you do deserve to be enslaved--
Elise's eyes snapped wide. Her blood turned to ice in her veins the instant the words registered in her mind. This was the one voice she waited to hear.
The one she came here to hunt.
She didn't know the name of her prey, or even what he looked like, but she knew what he was: a Minion. Like the others of his kind, he had been human once, but now he was something less than that. His humanity had been bled away by the one he called Master, a powerful vampire and the leader of the Rogues. It was because of them--the Rogues and