EXCERPTS
MICHAEL'S SOUL MATE by Lorelei Moone
EXCERPT #1
Michael buttoned up his woolen overcoat as he stepped outside. It
was a starless night; the dense cloud cover had made sure of that. There was a
certain electricity in the air, which to him suggested it might be about to
start snowing.
Michael took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Yes, something was
definitely coming. Could that be what had made him feel off for most of the
night?
The frosty air surrounding the bar he'd just left seemed heavy
with a great many aromas. Things that humans might never notice; for example,
the scent of what remained of the fallen autumn leaves from that one tree down
the street.
Michael turned to face the opposite direction. Chinatown was at
least a mile away, but he could smell the restaurants from here.
He was tempted to stretch his legs a little and sprint home as
fast as only a vampire could, but the roads were still too busy. He couldn't
risk someone watching him as he seemingly disappeared into thin air. The Council
didn't take kindly to vampires exposing themselves to humans at the best of
times. Ever since the big showdown between Michael's friend and mentor Alexander
and Council leader Julius, they'd been under extra scrutiny. Julius would jump
at the chance to punish Michael for supporting Alexander.
Things had really changed a lot in a short period of time, and not
entirely for the better.
Michael opened his eyes again, resigned to the fact that he would
either have to hail a cab or walk home at an excruciatingly slow, much more
human-like pace.
He started to walk roughly in the direction of Hyde Park. If he
found a quiet spot, he might still indulge himself in a little fun. As he
crossed the busy street ahead, his nose caught a whiff of something unexpected,
something metallic.
Blood.
His instincts took over. He turned on his heel and sped up a
little as he followed the smell. A low whimper urged him to speed up even
further, but he couldn't risk going any faster if he didn't want to make a
spectacle of himself.
There was a dark passageway in between two large office buildings.
He made his way through and found himself in a quiet courtyard, which housed a
number of large garbage bins. A woman's foot peeked out from in between them.
No human would have been able to see it in the dark, but Michael could.
Her breaths were labored and becoming shallower, and her heartbeat
was slowing. Michael pushed one of the bins aside and kneeled beside the woman,
who lay face-down on the ground.
It was obvious to him now; she was barely clinging on to life. He
carefully turned her onto her back. Her lips had a purple tinge and her skin
looked dry and unusually pale for a human.
The two dark marks on her neck spoke volumes.
She'd been drained.
For but a split second, her eyelids fluttered open. She seemed to
see him and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came. Then she slipped back
into unconsciousness.
Michael tensed up. He ought to leave, pretend he never found her.
The last thing he needed was for someone to find him here, standing over a
dying woman who had clearly been attacked by one of his own. But he couldn't
bring himself to leave.
How pretty she was, how fragile, as she clung to her last shred of
humanity.
Why had she ended up like this? Killing was against the rules. And
discarding a drained body out in public where it could so easily be discovered?
That was sacrilege.
His mind raced. Too many questions, not enough answers.
Michael gazed down at her face; the slightly parted lips, despite
their unnatural color, still looked full and luxurious. As did the rest of her,
actually. She made a beautiful corpse. Such a waste. This woman would have been
a sight to behold before someone had decided to take her life for themselves.
He ran the back of his index finger along the side of her face.
She twitched slightly, seemingly in reaction to his touch, causing him to pull
away again.
No, he would not leave her, discarded among these bins of office
refuse. This wasn't the end she deserved.
Michael closed his eyes and tried to focus. Her heartbeat had
become irregular, as though her body was giving up the fight. If he didn't
hurry, there wouldn't be any life left to save.
Before he fully realized what he was doing, Michael nicked a vein
in his wrist and pressed the newly created wound against her lips.
"Drink," he whispered.
She was too far out of it, so he couldn't compel her to listen,
but that wouldn’t stop him.
Then, he picked up one of her arms and brought it to his own lips.
He waited for what felt like forever. Was she too far gone already?
"Drink or you'll die!" he urged again, fully aware she
likely couldn't even hear him.
Still, as more and more of his blood trickled out of the gash in
his wrist, there was a subtle change in her. Her heartbeat seemed to strengthen.
Her breaths became more controlled.
And then, out of nowhere, her free hand jerked up to grab his
wrist and press it tightly against her mouth. Finally, she drank in deep gulps
as her body tried to recover what it had lost.
That was his cue.
He bit into the wrist he'd been holding already and allowed
himself the smallest of tastes. That completed the cycle. The Ritual was done.
She became still again and let go of his arm, her hand flopping
down onto her stomach. Her eyes had remained shut throughout; she probably
hadn't even realized what had just happened.
He'd barely realized it too; he'd been acting purely on instinct.
Now, as he stood up and inspected the smeared blood on his wrist, it hit him.
He'd performed the Ritual. He'd created another vampire—tried to, anyway.
That was something he'd vowed he'd never take as lightly as his
own maker had.
She wasn't out of the woods yet; in fact, he wouldn't know if
she'd even survive the change until the following night, but for some strange
reason, he'd jumped in and impulsively made the biggest decision of his
immortal life so far.
Things would never be the same again.
EXCERPTS: Lucille’s Valentine by Lorelei Moone
EXCERPT #1 Prologue
Ever since Lucille had hauled the criminal known as Marek
before the Council, she could not wait for the trial to begin. She had so many
questions and very few answers. Her curiosity was what made her such a driven
investigator.
Marek was a Soul Eater; that much was clear. But how had he
become so powerful? How old was he? How long had he been killing humans
indiscriminately without appearing on her radar?
Obviously, he had only just started his reign of terror in
London a few weeks ago, when a human had been found on the brink of death by
one of their own. The vampire Michael had turned the unfortunate female, and
Lucille had worked together with the unlikely pair to track down Marek and his
henchmen.
It had been a triumphant victory for her, and earned her
much praise from Julius, Lucille's maker and leader of the Council.
Tonight was finally going to be the night. The trial of
Marek and his associates would begin.
He stood accused of reckless conduct that risked the
exposure of the vampire race to humanity as well as attempted murder of a
fellow vampire. Julius had wanted to add on more charges, but decided against
it on Lucille's advice. They had caught him on the gravest crime possible. The
Council took the safety of their kind extremely seriously. And randomly
draining humans and leaving them for all the world to find was the most callous
display of overt vampirism the city had seen in over a century. The only way
the Council could have come down any harder on Marek would have been if he’d
videotaped himself drinking his victim's blood and posted it on the Internet.
So it wasn't the outcome of the trial that Lucille was
interested in; the case was clear and the punishment obvious; Marek would be
sentenced to death, and depending on whether they were complicit or only
following orders, so would his two associates. Lucille was more interested in
any possible justifications Marek would give during the process. Any
information at all that would shine a light on his motivations and history.
Lucille would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that
Marek's immense power had intrigued and even impressed her a bit. He had been a
formidable adversary.
Additionally, there was something about the vehemence with
which Julius sought to punish Marek that had set off her investigative
instincts. There was something more to their relationship than the Council
leader had led on.
"Are you ready, my child?" Julius interrupted her
thoughts.
"Yes, of course." Lucille looked up and nodded at
her maker.
The most powerful vampire in the world, as Julius liked to
refer to himself at times. It was true in a political sense. His claim for the
Council leadership had gone unchallenged for centuries. Though Marek had shown
powers that outshone Julius manifold. Was that his reason for disliking the
Soul Eater so much?
He returned her nod and beckoned her to come closer.
"It'll all be over soon. Before long, Marek will no longer
be able to threaten our way of life."
Lucille scrutinized the smug grin on Julius' face. He was
definitely hiding something.
"Have you come across him before?" she asked.
Julius glanced at her, his face suddenly serious again.
"We've known of the Soul Eaters that live outside the Council's realm of
influence for centuries. You know this. Never before have they ventured into
London, though."
None who were this evolved, no. Though Lucille had dealt
with plenty of killers before.
That hadn't answered her question, but Lucille decided not
to pry. Due to their history, Julius had a soft spot for her, but it would be
unwise to exploit their relationship just to get answers out of him. Perhaps
she was just being nosy. What business was it of hers whether or not Julius
knew the Soul Eater from another time?
"I will call in the elders," Lucille said.
"Once everyone is here we can begin."
Julius shot her a quick smile and rubbed his hands together.
"Very good, my child."
Lucille left the main hall and rounded up the other six
members of the Council. Although she was already four centuries old, the
elders, as the term suggested, were all much more senior. At least a millennium
old, each one of them. Together, they represented the far corners of the world,
both ancient and modern. As the six venerable vampires entered the great hall,
Lucille found herself captivated by their movements. Some seemed to levitate
rather than walk, but each demonstrated a smoothness and elegance of movement
that Lucille herself could not replicate if she wanted to.
Vampires, those that had the capacity to outlast the age
they were born in, got better and more impressive with age.
They sat on the six chairs arranged in a semi-circle around
Julius' throne. Three to his left and three to his right. There were further
chairs inside the main hall facing the throne for any other vampires who wished
to observe the trial. The center of the hall had been kept free for the
accused.
Lucille signaled at Dominic and Cameron, the two guards
stationed beside the large entrance doors, to let the audience in.
Whispers and footsteps echoed against the tall ceiling of
the cathedral as about three dozen vampires shuffled inside and found their
seats. Then, Julius raised his right hand and the crowd became silent.
"We are gathered here for the trial of Marek the Soul
Eater and his two progenies, who shall remain unnamed," Julius spoke in a
firm voice.
A whisper traveled across the audience once again.
"So it's true."
"A Soul Eater!"
"I can't believe it!"
Lucille rolled her eyes. The sort of vampires who frequented
Council trials were not her usual choice of company. Then again, not many
people were.
Julius cleared his throat and silence prevailed once more.
"Bring in the prisoners!"
Lucille watched as the double doors swung open and two more
Council guards rolled in a cage on wheels that gleamed under the chandelier in
the center of the hall. The Silver Vault, as it was known, was only used during
trials of the most notorious, dangerous criminals. Obviously, Marek posed a
flight risk; his powers were greater than those of anyone in this room. Perhaps
he was even stronger than Julius himself.
Marek's two associates were led in wearing cuffs right
behind the cage.
The audience was deadly silent as the three accused were
positioned in the empty space between the council members and the rest of the
crowd.
Julius cleared his throat again and got up from his throne.
"Marek. You know why you are here. You are to stand
trial—"
Marek shook his head. "Julius, please refer to me by my
full title."
Lucille frowned. Julius and Marek did seem awfully familiar,
the way they spoke to one another.
Julius' eyes narrowed. "Very well. Marek, son of
Lilith. You are on trial for—"
Lilith. Only the most ancient of vampires held the title son
or daughter of Lilith. Julius held this title himself. That meant Marek was an
ancient? A contender for a seat on the Council?
"The rest also, if you don't mind. I've worked too hard
these past millennia for my achievements to go unnoticed."
Lucille found that she was holding her breath. Marek had
guts to interrupt Julius twice in front of an entire room full of his subjects.
Then again, he probably knew as well as any of them that his life would soon be
over, so he had nothing much to lose.
"Son of Lilith, Master of a Thousand Souls."
Julius folded his arms and stared darkly at Marek. How long would his patience
last?
"Thank you." Marek grinned, showing off a row of
razor sharp white teeth.
During the brief contact Lucille had had with Marek, he had
not struck her as one of those vampires who grew weary of immortality and
longed for it all to end. Yet here he was, taunting Julius and grinning like a
madman on what could very well be his last day walking this earth. It wasn't
just unusual, it was unnerving.
Julius ignored Marek's remark and started listing his
offenses, during which Marek seemed to grow even more cheerful. He was
obviously proud of everything he’d done.
Lucille found herself tuning out Julius' monotone voice. It
was all stuff she’d heard before. Killing humans, leaving their bodies, risking
their exposure, blah, blah.
Instead of listening to him rehashing the same old
accusations, she took the time to really observe Marek. His strange appearance
had fascinated her from the moment she’d first laid eyes on him.
Vampires didn't age normally, but in the case of Marek, he
seemed marked by every century he’d lived through. The casual observer might
mistake his transparent skin, his slender body, and papery voice for signs of
frailty. Lucille knew otherwise. It had taken a dozen guards to subdue Marek
and restrain him for transport back to the Council prison.
The two younger Soul Eaters who stood toward his left now
looked much more powerful, but actually did not even possess half of Marek's
strength. Lucille found it difficult to control her curiosity. She knew of
vampires who’d killed humans; she had locked up many of them over the years.
But these three were different. They didn't just kill, they had figured out a
way of absorbing a victim's essence—their strength and life-force. Not just
their blood.
Was it magic?
She could not make sense of it on her own, and seeing as
Julius seemed in no mood to share whatever information or previous knowledge of
Marek he had… She would talk to Alexander about it as soon as the trial was
over. Perhaps her brother and his vast library of old books could shed some
light.
Lucille rested her gaze on the younger Soul Eater who stood
nearest to the Silver Vault. He seemed unafraid, like his maker, smiling subtly
and staring at nothing in particular, until suddenly he looked up right into
Lucille's eyes.
A shiver travelled down her spine, but she did not let it
show.
If you want to live, you'll stand down.
So he was a telepath, and a rather talented one too, if he
could communicate with her halfway across the large hall.
Lucille did not take kindly to threats. Her hand
instinctively reached for the dagger she kept in a sheath attached to her belt.
She snapped open the clasp that held the blade in place and tightened her
fingers around the grip.
She looked back at Marek, who had started to laugh. A quick
glance at Julius revealed that he was starting to lose his cool. He spoke
faster now, lecturing the three accused on the codes of conduct the Council
lived by and promoted. His eyes were wild, his expression even tenser than
before.
Lucille looked back at Marek, who had now reached for the
bars on his cage, tightening his long, bony fingers around them. The scent of
burning flesh filled the air as his skin reacted to the metal. An ordinary
vampire would not be able to bear it, but Marek showed no sign of being in
pain. Instead of letting go, he held on tighter, tugging at it until the bars
started to give way.
Lucille jumped forward, her dagger drawn, and was instantly
joined by the guards who had been positioned at the doors. The crowd gasped in
horror as Marek's form became blurred, his body twisting and whirling around so
fast that even Lucille's perfect vision could no longer focus on him. His laughter
echoed through the Council chamber, growing louder and louder until it became
deafening.
She reached the cage, but Marek was no longer inside.
Instead, he seemed to be levitating far above the ground, still turning at
lightning speed, like a whirlwind. Now what? She didn't have his talents or his
powers; she could do nothing but watch.
Lucille turned and saw that Julius was frozen in place in
front of his throne, his fist raised in the air in protest, lips opening and
closing, without any sound coming out.
She had never seen him stumped like this.
At that moment, the stained glass of the large rosette
shaped window above Julius' throne shattered as Marek's floating form surged
against it and broke through. He was gone within the blink of an eye.
"Go after him," Julius hissed, before repeating
himself much louder and forcefully. "Go after him at once!"
Lucille turned and found that Julius had moved from his
throne. He now stood just a few feet away from her near the Silver Vault, with
Marek's two followers slumped in pools of blood at his feet. After the initial
shock of Marek's grand display, Julius had recovered and taken swift action and
punished them with death. Their still twitching hearts lay on the ground beside
their lifeless bodies.
"Yes, master," Lucille mumbled. It had been
extremely difficult capturing Marek the first time around. This time, she would
need a miracle.
