Hloya Nejl - Some Girls Bite

SOME GIRLS BITE

Chloe Neill

CHAPTER 1

THE CHANGE

Early April Chicago, Illinois

At first, I wondered if it was karmic punishment. Id sneered at the fancy vampires, and as some kind of cosmic retribution, Id been made one. Vampire. Predator. Initiate into one of the oldest of the twelve vampire Houses in the United States.

And I wasnt just one of them.

I was one of the best.

But Im getting ahead of myself. Let me begin by telling you how I became a vampire, a story that starts weeks before my twenty-eighth birthday, the night I completed the transition. The night I awoke in the back of a limousine, three days after Id been attacked walking across the University of Chicago campus.

I didnt remember all the details of the attack. But I remembered enough to be thrilled to be alive. To be shocked to be alive.

In the back of the limousine, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to unpack the memory of the attack. Id heard footsteps, the sound muffled by dewy grass, before he grabbed me. Id screamed and kicked, tried to fight my way out, but he pushed me down. He was preternaturally strongsupernaturally strongand he bit my neck with a predatory ferocity that left little doubt about who he was. What he was.

Vampire.

But while he tore into skin and muscle, he didnt drink; he didnt have time. Without warning, hed stopped and jumped away, running between buildings at the edge of the main quad.

My attacker temporarily vanquished, Id raised a hand to the crux of my neck and shoulder, felt the sticky warmth. My vision was dimming, but I could see the wine-colored stain across my fingers clearly enough.

Then there was movement around me. Two men.

The men my attacker had been afraid of.

The first of them had sounded anxious. He was fast. Youll need to hurry, Liege.

The second had been unerringly confident. Ill get it done.

He pulled me up to my knees, and knelt behind me, a supportive arm around my waist. He wore colognesoapy and clean.

I tried to move, to give some struggle, but I was fading.

Be still.

Shes lovely.

Yes, he agreed. He suckled the wound at my neck. I twitched again, and he stroked my hair. Be still.

I recalled very little of the next three days, of the genetic restructuring that transformed me into a vampire. Even now, I only carry a handful of memories. Deep-seated, dull painshocks of it that bowed my body. Numbing cold. Darkness. A pair of intensely green eyes.

In the limo, I felt for the scars that should have marred my neck and shoulders. The vampire that attacked me hadnt taken a clean bitehed torn at the skin at my neck like a starved animal. But the skin was smooth. No scars. No bumps. No bandages. I pulled my hand away and stared at the clean pale skinand the short nails, perfectly painted cherry red.

The blood was goneand Id been manicured.

Staving off a wash of dizziness, I sat up. I was wearing different clothes. Id been in jeans and a T-shirt. Now I wore a black cocktail dress, a sheath that fell to just below my knees, and three-inch-high black heels.

That made me a twenty-seven-year-old attack victim, clean and absurdly scar-free, wearing a cocktail dress that wasnt mine. I knew, then and there, that theyd made me one of them.

The Chicagoland Vampires.

It had started eight months ago with a letter, a kind of vampire manifesto first published in the Sun-Times and Trib, then picked up by papers across the country. It was a coming-out, an announcement to the world of their existence. Some humans believed it a hoax, at least until the press conference that followed, in which three of them displayed their fangs. Human panic led to four days of riots in the Windy City and a run on water and canned goods sparked by public fear of a vampire apocalypse. The feds finally stepped in, ordering Congressional investigations, the hearings obsessively filmed and televised in order to pluck out every detail of the vampires existence. And even though theyd been the ones to step forward, the vamps were tight-lipped about those detailsthe fang bearing, blood drinking, and night walking the only facts the public could be sure about.

Eight months later, some humans were still afraid. Others were obsessed. With the lifestyle, with the lure of immortality, with the vampires themselves. In particular, with Celina Desaulniers, the glamorous Windy City she-vamp whod apparently orchestrated the coming-out, and whod made her debut during the first day of the Congressional hearings.

Celina was tall and slim and sable-haired, and that day she wore a black suit snug enough to give the illusion that it had been poured onto her body. Looks aside, she was obviously smart and savvy, and she knew how to twist humans around her fingers. To wit: The senior senator from Idaho had asked her what she planned to do now that vampires had come out of the closet.

Shed famously replied in dulcet tones, Ill be making the most of the dark.

The twenty-year Congressional veteran had smiled with such dopey-eyed lust that a picture of him made the front page of the New York Times.

No such reaction from me. Id rolled my eyes and flipped off the television.

Id made fun of them, of her, of their pretensions.

And in return, theyd made me like them.

Wasnt karma a bitch?

Now they were sending me back home, but returning me differently. Notwithstanding the changes my body had endured, theyd glammed me up, cleaned me of blood, stripped me of clothing, and repackaged me in their image.

They killed me. They healed me. They changed me.

The tiny seed, that kernel of distrust of the ones whod made me, rooted.

I was still dizzy when the limousine stopped in front of the Wicker Park brownstone I shared with my roommate, Mallory. I wasnt sleepy, but groggy, mired in a haze across my consciousness that felt thick enough to wade through. Drugs, maybe, or a residual effect of the transition from human to vampire.

Mallory stood on the stoop, her shoulder-length ice blue hair shining beneath the bare bulb of the overhead light. She looked anxious, but seemed to be expecting me. She wore flannel pajamas patterned with sock monkeys. I realized it was late.

The limousine door opened, and I looked toward the house and then into the face of a man in a black uniform and cap whod peeked into the backseat.

Maam? He held out a hand expectantly.

My fingers in his palm, I stepped onto the asphalt, my ankles wobbly in the stilettos. I rarely wore heels, jeans being my preferred uniform. Grad school didnt require much else.

I heard a door shut. Seconds later, a hand gripped my elbow. My gaze traveled down the pale, slender arm to the bespectacled face it belonged to. She smiled at me, the woman who held my arm, the woman who must have emerged from the limos front seat.

Hello, dear. Were home now. Ill help you inside, and well get you settled.

Grogginess making me acquiescent, and not really having a good reason to argue anyway, I nodded to the woman, who looked to be in her late fifties. She had a short, sensible bob of steel gray hair and wore a tidy suit on her trim figure, carrying herself with a professional confidence. As we progressed down the sidewalk, Mallory moved cautiously down the first step, then the second, toward us.

Merit?

The woman patted my back. Shell be fine, dear. Shes just a little dizzy. Im Helen. You must be Mallory?

Mallory nodded, but kept her gaze on me.

Lovely home. Can we go inside?

Mallory nodded again and traveled back up the steps. I began to follow, but the womans grip on my arm stopped me. You go by Merit, dear? Although thats your last name?