Savannah Russe - Under Darkness

Praise for the Darkwing Chronicles

"Exciting, fast-paced It has everything: humor, action, mystery, and romance."

Huntress Book Reviews

"Savannah Russe [lets] us know that there is more than one way to tell a good vamp's story."

Victoria Laurie, author of Demons Are a Ghoul's Best Friend

"Exciting superior supernatural suspense."

The Best Reviews

"Wonderful with a sharp bite."

Midwest Book Review

SIGNET ECLIPSE

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First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

First Printing, May 2008

Copyright Charlee Trantino, 2008

All rights reserved

SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Printed in the United States of America

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

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

To

Susan J. Collini

"A faithful friend is a strong defense,

and he that hath found such an one

hath found a treasure."

Ecclesiasticus 6:14

A vampire is as a vampire does.

My mother didn't tell me that. I figured it out all by myself. Of course, it took me more than four hundred years.

I have passed for human for all these centuries. But upon close inspection (note my fangs, my translucent white skin, my overreaction to garlic), it is evident I am not.

Besides the obvious, let me explain what my being a vampire means.

I cannot die unless I get a stake in the heart (the preferred method of those who hate us), am exposed to the sun, or am shot in a soft and vulnerable place with a bullet made of silver. I shudder to think of it.

I must drink blood, preferably human, but animal will do.

I am, by my nature, addicted to immorality, pursuing pleasure in every formno matter how much I try to be chaste. And I do tryto be chaste, that is. I fail miserably every time.

I live among millions of people in the greatest city in the world, but I will always be an outsider. I can never fit in.

Now you can understand why I have the proverbial snowball's chance in hell of making any committed, long-term, man-woman relationship work.

I keep trying at that too. Because more than anything else I need forgiveness, redemption, and, oh, yes, true love.

I live in darkness, but I do believe, deep in my heart, that I can find light.

Without further ado, let me introduce myself. I am a vampire through and through. But I am one who is paying it forwardtrying to rack up some good karma. I have gotten myself a name, rank, serial numberand a government job. I am Agent Daphne Urban, American spy.

"He that lives upon hope dies fasting. "

Benjamin Franklin

The footstepsslow and measured, heavy and determinedhit the pavement behind me with the steady rhythm of a funeral drum. The sound alone told me they belonged to a man of considerable size and consequence. I didn't have to look back. I knew he meant trouble.

At half past three a.m., night covered Manhattan like a shroud. A fast, hard June shower had just ended, leaving the stone buildings black with rain. As I passed, their windows stared at me with blank, empty eyes. Until the arrival of the man, only the occasional swish of a Yellow Cab's tires on the wet streets had broken the hush of the late hour. The cool air felt as sharp as a knife blade when I inhaled deeply, and I kept walking, my dog, Jade, on a leash at my side.

Glancing down I saw Jade's body tense, her tail going straight, her ears up. The footsteps became quicker, got closer. To anyone watching I appeared to be an ordinary young woman, taller than most and thin as death. Perhaps, as I strolled alone on the empty city streets, a mugger or a rapist had targeted me as easy prey.

That thought fled as quickly as it came. Who was I kidding? Sane people invariably drew back from me, giving mea wide berth. Some ancient instinct struck dread in their very bones, telling them that I was someoneno, not someone, but somethingto avoid. As for the crazies of New York City, even they weren't that stupid: My huge malamute, looking more like a wolf than a dog, kept them away.

That meant the odds were 101 out of 99 that my stalker was a vampire hunter. If I didn't do something quickly, I was about to die.

West End Avenue intersected with my block about two hundred feet ahead of me. I broke into a run, Jade keeping up with my stride. I reached the corner, turned sharply, hugged the granite wall of an apartment building, and stopped. I turned, crouched, and quickly released Jade's chain. I readied myself to attack.

I never got the chance. The moment the man passed the wall of the building and appeared, Jade sprang so fast, her body became a blur of snarling rage. With a growl that made my blood run cold she knocked him flat, her teeth sinking deeply into his forearm. He swore loudly. The polished wooden stake he clutched in his ham hock of a hand arced up, catching the light of a streetlamp before spinning and falling into the street with a clatter.

My mind became a haze of red anger with no thought. Irrational and reacting, I raced after the lethally sharp implement, meaning to use it as a weapon of my own. I grabbed it from the asphalt. My long fingers tightened around its smoothness. I raised it high above my head and charged toward my assailant, seeing him clearly for the first time.

Fighting to push Jade off and struggling to stand, the hunter was a fearsome sight. Clad entirely in black, he was broad and solid. With no visible neck, his head appeared to sit directly on his body, so thick were the muscles of hisshoulders. He had a wrestler's build and an assassin's face, flat and dull and cruel. A thick silver chain was wrapped diagonally like a bandolier across his wide chest. Three more stakes hung from it.

The sight of the stakes drove me toward madness. Throughout my centuries on this earth, too many of my friends had felt the piercing agony such an instrument delivers. And as a stake is driven into a vampire's heart, from the vampire's lips comes a last terrible screama heartrending, animal cry of pure terror. Then comes the fierce, horrible burning: the withering of flesh and bones crumbling to dust until nothing but a fine, dry ash remains.