The Darkest Kiss

I was halfway across the roof when it moved, briefly coming out into the lighter areas before scampering off to the shadows at the other end. I smiled, and some of the tension eased from my shoulders.

It was nothing more dangerous than a brush-tailed possum. The little marsupials had flourished in suburbs all across Australia, and while they were damn noisy at night—and often messy when they got into roof cavities—they weren’t particularly dangerous unless cornered and frightened.

The fact that this one was living here suggested a vampire wasn’t. While they were comfortable sharing living space with humans and most nonhumans, vamps seemed to send them scattering.

I blew out a frustrated breath, then made my way back to the hatch and jumped back down.

This place had proven to be one big, fat dead end. Young might have been here, but he wasn’t now. Whether he would come back was the question—and though the kettle and coffee suggested he would, with crazy vamps you never could tell.

And I wasn’t about to hang about and wait for him. Jack could get the night guys to run a watch on the house—there were more of them, anyway. I needed to get back to the other investigation before our bloodthirsty cat found another horny male to beat and murder.

In the room ahead, a board creaked. Which wasn’t unusual in old houses, granted, but up until now, the floorboards had creaked only when I’d stepped on them.

I stopped. The creaking didn’t.

Someone—or something—was in the house with me. My fingers tightened around the laser.

I couldn’t feel the presence of a vampire. Couldn’t smell him.

And yet the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end, and the sudden sensation that trouble waited just around the corner sat like a weight in my stomach.

As it turns out, my clairvoyance had it all wrong.

Trouble wasn’t waiting around the corner.

It was right behind me.

Chapter 6

I sensed him a heartbeat before he attacked, but that was enough time to move. I was very fast, and even though I didn’t move all that far, it still saved my life.

The steel pipe that had been aimed at my head hit my shoulder instead. Pain exploded—a red-hot agony that reverberated up through my brain and right down my arm. My fingers went numb almost instantly, and the laser fell to the floor with a clatter.

Air stirred again.

I swore vehemently and dropped, scooping the weapon with my left hand and firing blindly behind me. Blue light flashed and plaster exploded, sending a cloud of white dust through the air. Then the boards creaked, and though I heard no footsteps, I sensed the vamp was moving away.

I swung around and ran after him. The room was totally empty, and even switching to infrared didn’t help. Dammit, he was here somewhere, so why couldn’t I see him? Hell, I couldn’t even see the pipe he was using, and that was just plain weird.

His scent got stronger as I neared the door that led out into the hallway. I skidded to a halt and fired, using a sweeping motion from left to right. Wood fiber joined the plaster dust and the stench of burned hair suddenly tainted the air. Several grimy, greasy tufts plopped to the floor just beyond the doorway. He swore, then moved, skittering away like a spider on all four legs—something I sensed rather than actually saw.

I edged out the door, my nostrils flaring as I tried to capture the elusive scent of him. Dammit, how could the feel of him—the smell of him—have been so strong last night and yet so faint now, no matter how close I got? For that matter, how the hell could he be invisible when he’d been perfectly visible last night?

And if he had this sort of power, why hadn’t he used it last night rather than ru

It wasn’t a psychic trick—not only hadn’t I felt any attempts at psychic intrusion, but I wasn’t exactly prone to falling for any sort of vampire wiles or tricks anyway. Not in the “now you see me, now you don’t” sense that humans did.

It was almost as if he didn’t exist.

Like he was a ghost.

Except no ghost that I knew of could grab a metal pipe and attempt to brain you with it.

I crept down the hallway, my back against the wall and my shoulder protesting every little movement. I ignored it, concentrating on the tingling sense that was Young’s presence, wishing I could pin down his location. He was close. That was all I could tell. Which was a fat lot of good if he decided to come at me with the pipe again.

Another board squeaked in the kitchen—and this time, the sound seemed to be moving away. The bastard was trying to get around me again.

Or he was trying to make me think that he was.

Given I wasn’t sure, I stayed where I was, my left hand clenched firmly around the laser and my right shoulder aching like hell. Whether this was Young or not, the minute I sensed or scented him, the bastard was dead. Invisible vampires with a murderous bent didn’t get second chances—especially not when they’d already tried to kill me.

My, my, an i

Maybe I had—at least when it came to murdering psychos. But I’d still like to think the trigger-pulling impulse was generally more restrained in me than in my brother. That I wasn’t the shoot-first, think-later guardian that Jack wanted me to become.

For several minutes, nothing happened. Sweat began trickling down my spine and I gripped the gun so tightly my hand was begi

I flexed my fingers in an effort to ease some of the tension. In that moment, air stirred. I glanced to my right, caught a glimpse of a pipe whirring straight at my face, and threw myself down and forward.

I hit the wall opposite with a bone-jarring crunch and, for a moment, saw red as the pain in my shoulder caused a wave of agony that had my head spi

I sucked in a breath that did little to ease the blinding ache and, in the process, tasted the foulness of vampire.

A foulness that was getting stronger with every second.

He was coming straight at me.

I dropped low and spun, lashing out with a foot. Saw a blur of washed-out color leap over it, then he was on me, hitting like a ton of bricks, the sheer weight of his attack forcing me backward. I hit a doorframe hard, and the pain in my shoulder intensified. Sweat broke out across my forehead and all I wanted to do was throw up. I swore and kicked out as hard as I could instead. My foot hit something solid, and there was a sharp crack.

“Bitch!”

The word stung the air, filled with venom. Then his weight left me, and suddenly his scent was fading again.

I pulled the laser’s trigger. The bright beam shot out, slicing the air in front of me and continuing on, through another doorway before shattering yet more plaster and wood.

I didn’t hit Young, but just for an instant, I caught a glimpse of a gaunt, ghostly face, thin lips stretched back into a snarl and yellowed canines glistening. I fired again.

Missed again.

Then he was gone, and the sense of wrongness retreated.

I was losing him.

I swore and pushed off the doorway, but the sudden movement had pain burning through every nerve ending and sent the room spi

But I couldn’t just stand here. I had to move, had to go after Young, no matter how much agony I was in. I couldn’t let him get away.