NIGHT SONG Read online

  NIGHT SONG

  By

  Zanne Farrell

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

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

  NIGHT SONG

  ISBN: 1-59836-063-9

  Copyright (c) 2005 by Zanne Farrell

  Cover art and design (c) 2005 by Sheba Productions

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America.

  For information, you can find us on the web at

  www.VenusPress.com

  Prologue

  “I will see you burn in hell, LeMaster!” Victor Petrikov’s words flew from his lips like venom from a cobra.

  “Right.” Ian LeMaster turned and narrowly dodged Victor’s second attempt at separating his head from his shoulders.

  Ian was tired. Dead tired. And that said something for a vampire.

  Suddenly Victor stopped and smiled. It sent cold fingers of dread worming down Ian’s spine. “Do you feel that, LeMaster?”

  Ian didn’t move, sure this was just another of Victor’s ploys. After five years he’d seen a few and had learned to anticipate them.

  “She’s awake. Your woman. The woman that I will make my own is calling to me. Can you feel it?” The ancient vampire lifted his nose in the air and sniffed. “And she’s ready.” The growl of his voice made the hairs on Ian’s arm stand on end and his anger to boil.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Of course he did. Kathryn. His love. But he wouldn’t give Victor the satisfaction of a response.

  “You don’t think I know you listen to her thoughts? Visit her dreams?” Victor made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Such a stupid man you are. The vampire slayer will be mine and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He circled Ian with slow, deliberate steps. “You are a fool, Ian LeMaster. You have followed me around the world to protect your precious slayer.”

  Ian moved only his eyes as Victor paced around him.

  Victor’s laughter filled the hollow space. “Seems a lot of work for a woman who wants nothing to do with you.” Ice danced across Ian’s skin as Victor ran a finger down his cheek. Ian tried to lunge but his body refused to move. Victor was the only vampire more powerful than he.

  “I could have killed you a hundred times over, but I love watching you play the hunter. And it will be so much more enjoyable for you to watch as I turn Kathryn into my eternal wife.”

  “You. Stay away. From Kathryn.” The spell broke and Ian leapt for the older vampire.

  “See you in Denver,” echoed around the room and Victor vanished.

  “Son of a bitch,” Ian muttered and ran his hands through his hair. They were going back to Denver. He would see Kathryn for the first time in five years. His heart leapt in his chest. And worry filled his lungs. But how would she feel once she saw him? That was a question that had haunted him for five long years and one he would soon have the answer to.

  “See you soon, my love,” he whispered before running to the door and leaping into the warm night sky.

  Chapter One

  Kathryn Clark sat at the table ready to strike. Every muscle in her body coiled tightly. Even her fingers tensed.

  Reaching for her tea, she raised it to her lips and instantly put it down.

  Cold.

  She needed something warm or spiked, but definitely not cold.

  Disgusted, she exhaled and drummed her fingers against the table.

  How long had she sat there? How much longer would she continue? It was infuriating.

  Glancing out the window beside her, snowflakes floated from the darkened sky, and collected on the sidewalk in front of the all-night diner. With her heart beating furiously in her chest, she silently cursed. Why couldn’t it be spring or better yet, summer? Why winter? She hated doing anything in winter, especially this. And he knew it.

  Guess that answers my question.

  Inhaling, the smell of grease and Clorox inundated her senses. If she wasn’t so nervous, she’d have gagged.

  Motioning towards the waitress, she fidgeted under the clean Formica table. She needed to move soon or she’d go insane.

  “Whatcha need?” A woman who’d obviously made a career out of the diner stood over her; her blue polyester uniform stretched to the breaking point across her chest. Gum snapped and popped as she spoke. Could she get any more cliché?

  “My bill please.”

  The woman scribbled on a note pad she’d pulled from her graying apron, ripped the page and slid it across the table.

  “Just leave it there,” the woman said, before turning to leave.

  “Thanks,” Kathryn mumbled. Her eyes stayed locked on her target.

  He wouldn’t get away this time. Now that he’d returned, she would get him, there was no doubt about it. She could feel his presence from clear across the room. His power rolled around the building like a thick fog engulfing everything around her. A myriad of contradictory emotions tumbled through her. Anger. Frustration. Lust. Desire. They were all there, all real and all hers.

  His long dark curls shadowed his eyes. Even without seeing those dark chocolate orbs and the golden flecks that danced magically when he laughed, she knew it was him, Ian LaMaster, her mark.

  Absently she patted her nylon backpack that held her kit - her vampire slayer kit. It wasn’t that she doubted it was there. She’d only been sitting next to it for what, three hours? Touching the worn pack gave her confidence.

  The pack held everything she needed, everything that would stop the man across from her, stop him dead-or undead-in his tracks.

  She’d finally bring him down, wipe him from the planet and end his seven hundred and fifty year reign.

  Oh yes, he was hers.

  She had to admire his arrogance, though. Ian’s return to her town might have been comical if it didn’t totally piss her off. How could he doubt her ability, her determination? He’d seen her work, seen her in action. She was ruthless in her quest and unmatched in her talent.

  He’d managed to distract her before. He’d clouded her judgment, her senses.

  But not this time.

  This time she was focused, ready. This time, he’d be most undeniably dead.

  There was more to it than just the lure of the million-dollar bounty on his head. Although, that was a good part of it. No way would she allow anyone else to claim it. She’d struggled too long, had worked too hard. She needed that money. No, she deserved that money.

  But it was also about pride, dreams, hell, her life. And dammit, he’d screwed with it all. That’s what was going to get him killed now, tonight.

  Running his hand through his hair, his shoulder length curls swayed back to their exact place. He reached into his black leather jacket and pulled out several dollars and threw them on the table. Standing, he nodded to the woman behind the counter and made his way towards the door.

  Finally, she thought, and prepared to follow.

  As he moved toward her, all six feet five inches of him, she couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles rippled. Even beneath the dark leather of his pants she could see them contract and release. There was something seductive, alluring about that walk, about t
hat man. It was a seduction she knew all too well. One that would take, and had taken, a very long time to forget.

  She remembered the feel of his naked body pressed against her. How his hardness teased and tempted her very core. Just then his black leather jacket opened to reveal a very bare, very sculpted chest.

  For a brief moment, she allowed the tingle in her fingers and the ache in her palms. Oh God, to touch his body and feel his taught flesh again.

  She shook her head, dismissing the thoughts and refocused.

  Around his neck hung the opal talisman, his weakness.

  Made of polished gold strips, it formed to his neck and chest, coming together at a golden leopard that swayed loosely between his pecs. A large opal nearly covered the cat.

  He’d told her once that the opal held his power, his life. It protected him. And whenever he felt intense emotions, the opal glowed.

  He’d told about it right after he’d spent an hour fucking her.

  Her nipples peaked against the lace of her bra and she became wet with need.

  The opal glowed an iridescent swirl of color.

  Stifling a groan, she instantly berated herself.

  He was perfect, but that was no surprise. How many times had her hands wandered over those chiseled pecs, those broad shoulders? She licked her lips.

  Ian LeMaster wasn’t like the other vampires. His skin lacked the appearance of cool marble. His was bronzed and almost hot to the touch. More magic? She didn’t know, and at the time, she hadn’t cared. In a word—hot.

  Remember who he is, she reminded herself, and what you have to do.

  As her mind struggled, her body mutinously ached to be touched, handled, possessed. Why did he have to be so damned good looking? Why couldn’t he be like the others-cold, dead, scary.

  Oh, he was scary. He was one of the most feared vampires in the world. Simply whispering his name sent legions of vamps cowering in the shadows.

  Hadn’t he turned her best friend into the undead? Attacked her family? He wasn’t just scary - he was a fucking nightmare. But in his bed, with candles dancing magically in the quiet of the night, she could forget - did forget. Her lapse in memory is why this night she sat and waited to make him pay with his life.

  Exhaling, she tried to gain some control of her senses. There was a very good reason why he still walked the earth. His ability to seduce and allure were legendary. No woman or man alive could resist him.

  Until now.

  Reaching into her jacket, she mindlessly grabbed some money and threw it on the table. Hot or otherwise, he was the enemy, her prey, and she’d do best to remember. If she got this hit, she could quit the business. Without it, who knew how long she’d have to schlep through the wee hours of the morning, hunting blood-sucking killers, making mere pennies at the risk of her life.

  No, this kill, this victory would end it all. She needed to keep her eye on the prize.

  Slinging her backpack over her shoulder she slowly unfolded herself from the booth. At five-eleven, it wasn’t an easy task. Her muscles ached from sitting so long. They yearned to stretch. But not now.

  As Ian reached for the door, he stopped and turned. With his left eyebrow lifted in a perfect arch and his smile slow to spread, his deep brown eyes scanned her, almost taunted her.

  Don’t look at him, she commanded herself, but didn’t listen.

  The instant their eyes met, she saw him. Not as he was then but five years past.

  He lingered above her, looked down at her, his dark hair framing his face. Her fingers ached to touch his curls. She could feel the heat of his skin, the swell of his cock as it pushed into her. Her blood ran molten in her veins. Her cheek tingled from the warmth of his breath. Inhaling, she smelled the musk of the earth and the salt of the sea. His scent.

  As quickly as it came, the memory vanished. Leaving her breathless and stunned.

  How the hell did he do that?

  Pushing open the door, with his eyes still on hers, he winked before walking out.

  He goaded her, dared her to come get him.

  Oh, she’d get him all right. She’d take great pleasure in driving a stake through his heart. She’d chop his head off his shoulders and watch his body writhe and wither until it was nothing more than ashes mixed with the thick blanket of snow. And she’d celebrate when it was over.

  Stepping from the warmth of the diner into the starless night, the bone chilling cold of Colorado in winter hit Kathryn like a Mack truck. The wind howled and the snow tumbling around her swirled and danced before piling at her feet. Damn she hated the cold, hated the snow, but hated her job most of all.

  Keep your eye on the prize.

  Pulling up her hood, she shoved her hands in her pockets and followed Ian.

  He moved gracefully through the cold, his body straight, his gait unaffected. But why would he be affected? He was dead. Cold wouldn’t affect a corpse.

  That’s right, he’s a corpse. Remember that.

  Cursing, she shoved her hands deeper in her pockets and moved as quickly as the weather allowed.

  There were no footprints to follow, he floated more than he walked, so she had to feel him, sense him. After five years, his body still called to hers, still pulled her to him. This was one of the few times she could say it was good to be an ex-lover.

  Her step quickened and her breath billowed in front of her.

  The tinny sound of “It’s a Small World” broke the night silence and she stopped. Digging in her pockets she found her cell.

  Jimmy. Damn.

  “Hey baby brother, what’s up?”

  “Kat? I need you.”

  She sighed. Jimmy always needed her. Now what did he do?

  “I’m working, Jimmy. Call one of your friends.” She kept walking, her mind only half on the conversation.

  “I can’t. I’m with them and we’re all too drunk to drive.”

  Rolling her eyes she mindlessly turned a corner, her internal navigation system working on autopilot.

  “Jimmy, I can’t. Call a cab.”

  She walked faster now. Her body moved of its own accord. Suddenly, she was propelled to a jog.

  “Come on, Kat. For me?”

  A scream shattered the calm and ricocheted off the buildings.

  “Son of a bitch!” she yelled, more out of frustration than anything else.

  “Fine, I’ll get a cab.”

  “I gotta go!” Closing the phone she shoved it in her pocket and ran towards the scream.

  Rounding a corner she saw her-a woman in a dark alley, alone.

  “Miss? Are you okay?” Just what she needed, some wigged out party girl seeing ghosts. The fun just never ended.

  “Help me! Please!” Her voice caught, as she backed away from something. Something Kathryn couldn’t see.

  In front of her a figure stepped out of the shadows.

  It hissed, a long slow whistle, like air leaving a car tire and Kathryn tensed. A vampire.

  With all thoughts of Ian having left her mind, she went into slayer mode. It was as familiar to her as walking was to the rest of the world.

  Dropping her pack to the ground, she unzipped it and took out her stake, mallet and torch. She inhaled and said the same prayer she uttered before every battle, and jumped to her feet. Time to kick some ass.

  “Hey fang? Why not pick on someone your own size?” She shifted her stance a little and could feel the blade strapped to her hip. It never left her, but it was always good to make sure it was still there.

  Her heart was calmer than it had been all night and her breathing was steady and even. This was what she was trained to do, no born to do. For this she didn’t have to think.

  The woman screamed again, and the vampire turned. His fangs glowed white in the dim light of the alley.

  A streetlamp to her left cast a cone of light that didn’t quite reach past the alley’s entrance. Those teeth were the only thing she saw clearly.

  The smell of rot and decay floated towards her and s
he wrinkled her nose. The trash bins lining the backs of the buildings obviously needed to be dumped.

  Were there more like him lurking in the shadows?

  The vampire turned to Kathryn. “Two lovely ladies, how fortunate for me. A buffet.” His speech was slow and deliberate, old worldly. The accent sounded Russian, maybe Czech. Turning, she caught a glimpse of his face. It too glowed. He looked so pale he appeared almost translucent.

  He needed to feed, that was a good thing. It was much easier to fight a vamp weak from hunger than one who attacked at full strength.

  Kathryn toyed with the idea of using one of the flares from her kit but immediately dismissed it. Flares would probably send the corpse running. Vampires were funny that way about light. Better she leave it dark, and hope she could lure him closer to the street. She was good, but not so good that she could fight blind.

  “Come to me,” the vamp said, his voice laced with the magic of his kind. Vamps could do that, could control a person with their voice. Fortunately Kathryn wasn’t any person. She was a trained slayer. Only the woman moved towards him.

  “Stop!” Kathryn commanded, and the woman obeyed. She stood frozen in the snow, like she didn’t know what to do. And she didn’t. Kathryn had a little magic of her own.

  The vampire looked from the woman to Kathryn and smiled, the glow of his teeth no longer a bright white but a dirty beige. He grew weaker. That was a very good thing.

  “Ah, I see I’m going to have the pleasure of dining on the famed Kat Clark. How lucky I am.” He turned and slowly moved towards her. His long hair swirled around him as the frigid wind whipped through the alley.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Taking a deep breath Kathryn leaped towards the vampire, her right leg extended, putting the entire one hundred and sixty five pounds of her behind the kick. He probably wouldn’t be knocked down, but in his weakened state he’d be thrown off balance and that might be all she’d need to stake him.

  When her foot connected with his chest, his ribs crackled then shattered beneath. If she wasn’t acting on pure instinct, reacting to the adrenaline rush, it might have disturbed her.