Dark Passion Rising (2 page)

Monster?  Oh yeah, that would go over well.  ‘Sorry about the
mess, Captain.  I had a run in with a monster.  But hey, it could have been
worse, at least there were no dragons to slay.’

That would really get her a first class ticket to the Looney Bin.
 She wouldn’t have believed it herself, but unfortunately she had the wounds to
prove it, and a dead and mangled body to emphasize the point.  She looked up
and down the deserted street.  Still no sign of Cody.  But also no blood, so
she figured he was fine, which didn’t explain what had happened to him.

A scraping sound came from behind her and she slowly turned,
keeping her hand on the wall for balance.  She found herself looking up into
the enraged yellow eyes of the beast. 

 Saliva dripped from his opened jaws, drawn up in a snarl.  He
was on her as quick as lighting.  Sharp canines sank into the juncture between
her neck and shoulder.  Piercing, white hot agony shot through her system,
lighting up every nerve ending in her body as his teeth sank deep, penetrating
muscle and scraping bone.  A scream tore out of her already abused throat, and
her world narrowed to only the slashing pain in her neck.

Chapter Two

Marcus Valerian paused amid the press of humanity on the Fremont
Street Experience.  Garish neon lights flashed above him on the white metal
canopy above, a swirl of colors coalescing into the image of the American
flag.  The noise of the music, drowning the babble of voices around him, was
deafening to his sensitive hearing.  He took a deep breath and found what he
was searching for: the barest hint of Lycan musk.  Moving quickly through the
throng, he turned onto a deserted side street where the barrage that assaulted
his senses calmed.  Darkened office buildings and store fronts lined the
street, closed and locked up tight.  Long shadows claimed the sidewalks and
alleys, dispersed occasionally by the pooling light of a street lamp or traffic
light.  The silence fell heavily, like a thick blanket.  Marcus breathed deeply
again, letting the scent lead him.  The combination of heavy musk and the
metallic tang of blood filled the air around him.

Marcus gritted his teeth at the smell of blood, anger surging
through him.  He was too late to save a human from slaughter.  Another
senseless death to add to the ever-growing tally.  There had been far too many
in recent months.  More Breeds were going feral, stretching Marcus’s small
group of Enforcers far too thin, and they still had no clue as to why. 

If this continued, the Breeds would be exposed to the human world
and, after millennia spent hidden, discovery was not an option.  True, every
once in a while one of his kind had been spotted.  That was how the tales of
werewolves, vampires, and the fae had gotten started.  But it was Marcus’s job
as an Enforcer to make sure no hard evidence ever came to light to support
those tales.

His orders came from a group called the Tribunal, the ruling body
that kept the balance, made the laws, and handed down the punishments that Marcus,
and others like him, enforced all over the world.  In the eleven centuries he
had worked as an Enforcer, Marcus had never seen anything quite like what he
was up against now.  The claim of a rampant virus striking his fellow Breeds
just rang false.  There was something more going on.  Ferals seemed to be
targeting the human population, women in particular.  He just couldn’t put his
finger on it.  

They needed to capture a feral Breed for study and interrogation,
but so far every Breed they had cornered had taken his own life before letting
the Enforcers capture him alive, and every autopsy had shown nothing out of the
ordinary.  They were at a standstill.  The only course of action was to patrol
and try to minimize the damage.

 Unfortunately, that had not been so effective. 

 The smell of blood thickened in the air as Marcus neared a
particularly dark stretch of street.   Hunger punched him in the gut, and his fangs
throbbed painfully.  He had been so focused on getting out to patrol he hadn’t
eaten properly and now he had this additional distraction to contend with. 
With a deep breath, he wrestled control of his desire to feed and eyed the
opening of another alley.  The smell of blood and Lycan was strong on the wind.

  A figure lurched out of the alley and Marcus quickly merged
with the darkness, becoming part of the shadows around him.  The form was
female, he could tell even through the unflattering uniform she wore.  He swore
under his breath.  Wonderful, a cop.  That was all he needed to make this night
go from bad to worse.  He could smell the blood from her wounds.  She was close
to collapsing from her injuries.  Marcus was amazed she was still standing.

 As Marcus debated how best to untangle the mess before him, the
large shape of a Lycan suddenly moved up behind the staggering woman, threw her
slight form into the brick wall, and bit into her neck.  Marcus propelled
himself forward, eating the distance between himself and the attacking Lycan in
a matter of seconds.  Marcus slammed his shoulder into the Lycan, sending him
flying into the alley wall so hard that bricks cracked under the force of
impact. 

He helped the woman sit and propped her against the wall, but had
no time to check her injuries, focusing his attention upon the irate Lycan
rising menacingly from the ground.  Marcus moved himself into position,
readying for the inevitable battle.  He recognized the Lycan as a Pure Blood,
known for being egomaniacal and cruel.  Perhaps, if he could keep the Lycan
talking, Marcus’s luck could change.

 “Don’t you know the rules, dog?  Rule One: You do not eat humans.
 Rule Two: keep a low profile so you won’t tip the human law enforcement to our
existence,” Marcus lectured as if speaking to a slow child.  “If you are unsure
whether it’s an officer of the peace, review Rule One.”

 “Well, well.  If it isn’t the Tribunal’s number one boy scout.  Tell
me, how goes the war, Leech?”

 “I didn’t know we were at war, perhaps you can enlighten me.”  Marcus
shrugged his shoulders with an air of nonchalance he was far from feeling.  The
prospect of war between the Breeds made his gut clench.  That would mean extinction,
there were far too few of them already, and if the human world ever found out
the truth of their existence they wouldn’t stand a chance in hell of surviving.

  “You are Oren, am I correct?” When he got no response but a
snarling growl, Marcus went on, his deep voice deceptively soft.  “Does Fox
know of your…activities?  Or do you think your Pure Blood status excludes you
from Tribunal Law?”

  “Fuck your law, Leech.  Your time as an Enforcer for the
Tribunal is coming to an end.  Your precious laws won’t be worth the paper
they’re printed on.  Not that it will matter much- you will be dead, along with
our fool of a leader Temple Fox.”

 Oren’s attack was swift.  One moment Oren was standing in front
of Marcus, the next he was at his back, pinning Marcus’s arms to his sides, his
muscular arms wrapped around Marcus’s chest with crushing force.

“It’s time to die, Leech,” Oren growled next to Marcus’s ear as
his arms tightened, restricting Marcus’s breathing.

 Marcus threw his head back, connecting with Oren’s jaw with
brutal force.  The Lycan loosened his grip, only slightly, but it was enough
for Marcus to jab his elbow into his stomach.  The force of the blow freed him
from the Lycan’s bruising hold and allowed him to place a few feet between
them. Crouching low, he waited for Oren’s next attack.

“You have to do better than that if you want to kill me,” he
taunted, waiting patiently for his next move.

 With a low, menacing snarl Oren lunged forward, his claws aimed
for Marcus’s throat, gaping jaws poised to tear into him.  Marcus was prepared
this time.  He blocked Oren’s attack by ducking low, then used his shoulder to
lunge into the Lycan’s stomach, hurling Oren over his head and toward the
ground with a resounding thud.  Marcus reached into one of the pockets of his
black camouflage pants and pulled out a taser.

He had found that tasers worked better than silver for
debilitating a Lycan.  They scrambled their body’s molecules so they couldn’t
keep their animal form, and stunned them in the process. 

Oren wasn’t going to slip through the Enforcers’ fingers this
time.  This time Marcus was going to take in a live Breed for study.  This time
they would find out what the hell they were dealing with and, hopefully, find a
way to fight it.  Unfortunately, Oren wasn’t cooperating.  He jumped back to
his feet and lunged at Marcus before Marcus could even aim the taser.

 Marcus’s breath left his lungs with an explosive grunt as Oren
barreled into him, hurling him down to the ground with bone jarring force.  His
taser flew out of his hand.  Only instinct, honed from centuries of fighting,
saved Marcus from having his throat torn open.  He jerked sharply to his side,
Oren’s razor sharp claws tearing through the thin material of his black tee
shirt and into his shoulder.  Marcus swung his good arm.  His fist connected
solidly with the side of the Lycan’s head, driving him off balance.

Oren shook his head, then surged forward again, his deadly claws
aimed once again for Marcus’s throat.  Marcus rolled away and up to his feet in
one fluid movement, pouring the momentum into roundhouse kick that connected
with Oren’s head and brought the Lycan down hard on the ground. 

Marcus spotted his taser laying only a few inches away from Oren. 
With a blur of movement he grabbed it, aimed, and pressed the button.  The
probes shot forward, embedding into Oren’s chest.

 His body began jerking violently from the disruption of his neurons,
forcing his body’s change back to a man’s shape.  He let out a groan, but
didn’t move.  Marcus pulled silver chains from another pocket and quickly bound
Oren’s hands and feet.  Once Oren was secured, Marcus pulled out his cell and
hit speed dial.

“Tegan, it’s Marcus.  Pick up in the alley at Third and Casino
Center.”

Marcus turned his attention to the female officer he had left propped
against the wall, noting her labored breathing.

“We also have his victims, one dead, the other still alive, but severely
injured.  Ask Zeke for a jump.  I’m afraid time is against us.”

Marcus replaced his cell in his pocket, turned his attention
toward the woman, and crouched down by her, noting the pressure she was
applying to her wound with her hands.  Thankfully she kept her wits about her
in a crisis.

“I have someone coming to see to your wounds,” he explained in a
soft, soothing voice.

 Marcus noted the lines of strain on her too pale face.  Fear
lurked in the blue depths of her eyes, along with intelligence.  He realized
this was a fighter.  He felt an unfamiliar stirring deep in his chest as he
made a mental checklist of her injuries.  It was a wonder she was even
conscious with the amount of blood loss she had sustained.

 “Take my belt,” she rasped. “My thigh…tie it tight.  Need to
stop the bleeding.”

 He nodded, doing as she instructed with quick efficiency.  He
heard her hiss of pain and winced with empathy.  Even covered in blood the
woman was beautiful, her bone structure delicate, her golden blonde brows
arched above large expressive eyes.  Her mouth was full and luscious, blonde
hair pulled back in a tight ponytail enhanced her high cheekbones, yet it was
her courage that called to him. 

 “It won’t be long, help is coming.”

 “I…I can’t… hold on.  My partner… need to find him.”  Her speech
slurred as she slumped, unconscious, against the wall.

A familiar surge tingled up his spine.  Turning toward the
disturbance, he saw both Zeke and Tegan separate from the shadows.  Both were
tall men in black jeans and tee shirts, but that’s where the similarities ended. 
Tegan was golden skinned with long dark hair, Zeke was pale, his white blonde
hair cut short and spiked.  Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, and the piercings
adorning his ears and left eyebrow gleamed dully in the low light.  Tattoos
flowed up one arm to the side of his neck in an intricate design which was
actually comprised of Atlantean hieroglyphics, denoting his family’s lineage
and his warrior class.  Zeke’s ability to “jump” his men to any location on a
map made him a useful addition to the Enforcers.

 Tegan carried a large, black handled case over to the
unconscious woman.  As the team’s medic, his skills had been in demand much too
often for Marcus’s tastes.  With only a nod in Marcus’s direction, Tegan
committed his full attention to the injured woman.

 “Finally got a Were I see.  Too bad about the cop though,” Zeke
said.  “You should have Tegan look at that shoulder.”

 “It’s already stopped bleeding.  I’ll be alright.  And that’s
not a Were.  This one is a Pure Blood,” Marcus informed him, his eyes on the  unconscious
Lycan.

 Zeke whistled at that.  “No shit? Fox won’t be too happy about
us keeping him.”

 “He has no say in the matter.”  Marcus’s tone held steel.  “We
have Tribunal law on our side and he has shit.”

 “I just want a front row seat when he goes off on you for
pulling that card on him.  He has no love for the Tribunal,” Zeke chuckled.

Marcus ignored that.  It was no secret that the King of the
Lycans and The Head of the Enforcers didn’t get along.  They existed in an
uneasy truce that they grudgingly accepted, but neither liked.

“Zeke, take our friend Oren to his new lodgings.  Tegan, what are
her chances?”  Marcus didn’t watch as Zeke left his side, picked up Oren’s
unconscious body, and dissolved into the shadows.

Tegan cast Marcus an impatient glare before turning back to his
work, binding the woman’s leg to stop the flow of blood.  Her neck was already
cleaned and bandaged along with the nasty swipes across her torso.  Her ripped
shirt showed glimpses of the stark white bandage against the paleness of her
skin.