Bring On the Night

JERI SMITH-READY

“… is one of my very favorite reads!”

—P. C. Cast,
New York Times
bestselling author of the
House of Night series

Bad to the Bone

Nominated for the Pearl Award

“Smith-Ready pours plenty of fun into her charming, fang-in-cheek urban fantasy.”

—
Publishers Weekly
(starred review)

“Offbeat and hugely entertaining.”

—
Romantic Times

“Believable, captivating characters abound.… By turns funny, sexy, and gripping.”

—
Library Journal

“An entertaining, fast-paced, toothsome tale wrapped around an eclectic playlist of six decades’ worth of hot music.”

—The Green Man Review

“Equivalent to the best hot chocolate you have ever tasted.…”

—Para Normal Romance (A Top Pick)

“
Bad to the Bone
’s action-packed plot, realistic characters, original vampire mythology, sinister secret societies, and shadowy government organizations make it a great read for both vampire fiction and urban fantasy fans.”

—Love Vampires

“A solid and fast-moving tale.”

—Darque Reviews

“Filled with edge-of-your-seat suspense, hot love scenes, and plot twists that you never see coming. Jeri Smith-Ready has scored another hit.”

—Bitten by Books

Wicked Game

Winner of the PRISM Award
A nominee for the American Library Association Alex Award

“An addictive page-turner revving with red-hot sex, truly cool vampires, and rock ’n’ roll soul.”

—Kresley Cole, #1
New York Times
bestselling author of
Pleasure of a Dark Prince

“Smith-Ready’s musical references are spot-on, as is her take on corporate radio’s creeping hegemony. Add in the irrepressible Ciara, who grew up in a family of grifters, and the results rock.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“A colorful premise and engaging characters… a fun read.”

—
Library Journal

“Just when I think the vampire genre must be exhausted, just when I think if I read another clone I’ll quit writing vampires myself, I read a book that refreshed my flagging interest. Jeri Smith-Ready’s
Wicked Game
was consistently surprising and original… I highly recommend it.”

—A “Book of the Week” pick by #1
New York Times
bestselling
author Charlaine Harris at charlaineharris.com

“This truly clever take on vampires is fresh and original.”

—
Romantic Times

“Jeri Smith-Ready has created a set of strikingly original, fascinating characters, rich with as much style and rhythm as the music her vampires love. Lyrical and uncompromising,
Wicked Game
is a winner I’ll be reading again.”

—Rachel Caine, bestselling author of
Thin Air

“
Wicked Game
is clever, funny, creative, and way too much fun.…A sure-fire winner.”

—The Green Man Review

“A wicked delight.…Urban fantasy that makes an irresistible playlist and an irresistible read.”

—C. E. Murphy, bestselling author of
Urban Shaman

“Sharp and smart and definitely not flavor of the month,
Wicked Game
is wicked good.”

—Laura Anne Gilman, bestselling author of
Flesh and Fire

“Jeri Smith-Ready’s vampire volume
Wicked Game
will make your corpuscles coagulate with corpulent incredulity. It’s for young bloods and old jugulars alike. Whether you devour it on Sunday Bloody Sunday or just before Dinner with Drac, simply turn off the fifty-inch plasma, lay back, and ‘Let It Bleed.’”

—Weasel, WTGB 94.7 The Globe, Washington, DC

“Original and unique… a fantastically good read.”

—Love Vampires (Pick of the Month and
one of 2008’s Best Vampire Books)

“An imaginative tale that adds new dimension and limitations on the otherwise long-lived lives of vampires.”

—Darque Reviews

“A unique and lyrically entertaining story.… Excellent dialogue, skillfully crafted characters, and unique plot.”

—Romance Reviews Today

D
ON’T
MISS THE SEXY BEGINNING TO
C
IARA’S TALE.…

Wicked Game

Bad to the Bone

Available from Pocket Books

The sale this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destoryed.” Neither the author nor the publisher has received payment for sale of this “stripped book.”

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2010 by Jeri Smith-Ready

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book
or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department,
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Pocket Books paperback edition August 2010

POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of
Simon & Schuster, Inc.

For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at
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Cover illustration by Don Sipley

Manufactured in the United States of America

10    9    8    7    6    5    4    3    2    1

ISBN 978-1-4391-6348-1
ISBN 978-1-4391-6349-8 (ebook)

To my husband, Christian, who means more to me
than the rest of the world put together

Thanks as always to my family and friends, who continue to wait patiently for me not to be on deadline. Thanks to my beta readers—Patrice Michelle, Cecilia Ready, Rob Staeger, and Rob Usdin—for their honesty and sharp eyes. It’s a foolish author who works alone.

A hundred and fifty (and counting) thank-yous to the WVMP Street Team, for their phenomenal support and enthusiasm.

Thanks to the hardworking folks at Pocket Books who brought
Bring on the Night
to life: Louise Burke, Erica Feldon, Don Sipley, Martha Schwartz, Renee Huff, Nancy Inglis, and Lisa Litwack.

Thanks to my brilliant editor, Jennifer Heddle, for keeping Ciara and her friends “alive” and well for more adventures, and to my agent, Ginger Clark, who is a rock star to her clients for a million damn good reasons. They deserve the best toffee and chocolate, respectively, the world has to offer.

Most of all, thanks to my husband, Christian Ready, for his love and patience and for getting me Subway when I’m on deadline. I don’t need much, but I need him.

By the sad silence which
eternal reigns

O’er all the waste of these wide-stretching plains;

Let me again Eurydice
receive,

Let Fate her quick-spun thread of life re-weave.

—Ovid,
Metamorphoses,
Book X

PLAYLIST

“Looking After No. 1,” Boomtown Rats

“Orange Crush,” R.E.M.

“Bring on the Night,” The Police

“See That My Grave Is Kept Clean,” Dream Syndicate

“Sheena Is a Punk Rocker,” The Ramones

“Here Comes Your Man,” Pixies

“Clocks,” Coldplay

“I’m an Asshole,” Dennis Leary

“I Know I’ll See You,” A Place to Bury Strangers

“Goo Goo Muck,” The Cramps

“When Doves Cry,” Prince and the Revolution

“Bad Romance,” Lady Gaga

“Sweet Dreams,” Marilyn Manson

“Keep on the Sunny Side,” The Carter Family

“6’1",” Liz Phair

“Otherside,” Red Hot Chili Peppers

“Ripple,” Grateful Dead

“Ciara,” Luka Bloom

“Symphony number 7 (second movement),” Ludwig van Beethoven

“It’s a Sunshine Day,” The Brady Bunch

“Endless Sleep,” Jody Reynolds

“Watusi Zombie,” Jan Davis

“No, No, No,” Dawn Penn

“Just Walkin’ in the Rain,” The Prisonaires

“Until the End of the World,” U2

“Bitter Sweet Symphony,” The Verve

My My, Hey Hey (Out of the Blue)

I’m okay now.

Just so you know.

I mean, just so
I
know.

Not that I wonder.

(deep breath)

Welcome to Paradise

I could smell my own fear, bitter and tangy as an overripe orange. I crept down the night-shrouded alley and wished for eyes in the back of my head. Even eyes on the sides of my head would’ve helped, though that would’ve required some strategic barrette placement.

Adrenaline spiked my senses. My eyes caught faint flaps of newspaper shreds tossed by the chill evening breeze. My ears filtered every scratch of twig and creak of plywood, singling them out from the background roar of the distant highway. My feet felt each pebble of industrial-grade gravel through the soles of my boots as I slunk toward the dark warehouse.

Beyond it lay freedom.

I’d been in the clutches of more than one vampire, so I knew what it was like to be prey. But I’d never been hunted. Never had a chance to escape, to match wits with my predator. To fight back.

At the end of the alley I passed an overstuffed Dumpster,
where the odor of cat piss snagged my attention. I wrinkled my nose and glanced at the bin. The lid was clamped on a discarded pizza box, pinching it open to reveal a leftover slice inside.

My feet stopped, as if the brilliant (or possibly stupid) idea had passed through my toes on the way to my brain.

I opened the Dumpster, trying not to creak the rusty hinges. The grease-splattered pizza box slid off a stack of bulging, green-black trash bags. I trapped it against my leg to keep it from hitting the ground.

Before I could reconsider, I flipped up the cardboard top (“Enjoy your delicious moments!”) and grabbed the remaining slice, grateful to be wearing gloves. I held it up to the moonlight leaking in between the charred brick buildings.

Jackpot: white pizza. Gooey splotches of ricotta oozed over a smooth layer of mozzarella. The whole affair was slathered in garlicky olive oil, with no tomato sauce to dilute the scent.

Holding my breath, I smeared the pizza slice over my throat and face, trying to convince myself the green stuff was oregano. I repeated the process on my arms, then my torso, keeping nervous ears and eyes out for an approaching attack.

Reeking like a frat house, I scurried to the warehouse door. It was ajar just far enough for me to slide inside without touching the frame.

The vampire was waiting.

I didn’t see or hear him, just sensed him deep in my frightened little soul, the way a rabbit senses a fox. But unlike a rabbit, I couldn’t outrun my hunter.

The door behind me slammed shut, its clang echoing through the hangar-size warehouse. Above my head, the red Exit sign flickered, then dimmed.

I will not flee. I will not scream.
Such panic could trigger the killer instincts of even the most serene vampire.

Cold sweat coated my skin, thickening my garlic aura. I stretched my fingers and willed them away from the sharp wooden stake in my hip holster.
Cooperation before coercion
, I chanted in my head like a mantra.
Cooperation before coercion.