Chandler: Books 4 The Witch and the Vampire (5 page)

Chapter Eight

Chandler
swiped a forearm across his lips, wiping away the smears of blood from his latest feeding. His thirst satisfied, he drew in a deep breath. Warm blood surged through his veins, refreshing his flagging body. At his feet, his victim moved, groaned.
Chandler
glanced down at the man. He was a robust fellow, well dressed, clean-shaven. He rolled to one side, his right arm outstretched toward the leather briefcase he had been carrying. Curiosity welled up inside
Chandler
. He stooped and picked up the case, then strode toward the mouth of the alley.

Thievery wasn’t a trait that he found attractive in himself or others, but under the circumstances, he had little chance of finding out how the modern day businessman operated short of killing one and assuming his identity. He stepped into the faint light given off by the streetlight down the block and began walking, the briefcase in one hand. In his time he had been privy to wealth, managed to amass quite a considerable fortune for himself in the way of real estate and material goods. Perhaps the contents of the man’s leather case would help him understand how he might go about finding financial gains in the present era.

He stepped into the next dark alley and walked to its end. Finding himself concealed in the inky blackness, he laid the case on the ground and proceeded to try and open it. The lock failed to comply with his wishes. As a last resort, he grasped the case and ripped the lid off. A sheath of papers spilled forth on the ground. He collected them into a stack, then began scanning each page.

In a manner of moments, he learned his victim was a banker of considerable wealth. And while a lot of the pages held little meaning for him, they did give him hope that he might be able to make inquiries as to his own holdings of long ago. His brows furrowed. He doubted he would be able to learn much without journeying to
Europe
where his holdings had originally been. Sighing, he replaced the papers in the case and retrieved the lid, then tucked the case under one arm. He headed toward the mouth of the alley, intent on returning the case to its rightful owner.

The man still lay on the ground where
Chandler
left him. He groaned as
Chandler
approached. Taking the man by one arm, he lifted him, forcing him to stand. “Be on your way.”

Chandler
pushed the briefcase into his hands. The man gasped and clutched it to his chest, then scurried down the alley toward the street.
Chandler
watched as he disappeared down the sidewalk. He hated that he instilled fear in his victims with his mere presence.

He shrugged his shoulders. Thoughts of Jada entered his mind as he headed toward the sidewalk. His body refreshed with new blood, he suddenly had the urge to watch her dance. Dwelling on the past and regretting what he had become only lent itself to thoughts of remorse.

He took to the air before the darkness gave way to the light of the streetlamp, revealing his presence to others on the street. Traveling above the city, he found the street where the nightclub was located and sought out a dark spot to shapeshift. He held the picture of Jada in his mind as he started down the sidewalk toward the bar. Already thoughts of making love to her filled his head.

Making love to her?
His brow furrowed.
Love has nothing to do with it.
He refused to consider his words further. Love was impossible for him. He took from women, then moved on. He had always been that way. It was too late for him to change now. He would enjoy
Jada
Harris
for as long as she would allow him to and, when the time was right, he would take his leave.

In his time a man who used women for sexual purposes was known by various names, unless he was well to do financially. Perhaps his fortune had saved him from much embarrassment for he had used women to sate his lust since he was a very young man. He heard the music blaring from the open door of the nightclub and spied the burly policeman
Mike
, Jada had told him about standing guard. It appeared as though he was only allowing certain people to step through the doorway. He approached the man and smiled, giving him a moment to recall who he was.

The husky man stared at him, then tipped his head in his direction and stepped aside, allowing him to enter the building.

I suppose Jada told him I’m the backup detective from the main precinct.
He chuckled at the notion that the mortals believed him to be one of their own. Sooner or later the truth would come out. But by that time, he would be haunting another city, or perhaps overseas in another country altogether.
I’ve got all the time in the world.

Yeah. Now if I just enjoyed being a fucking vampire!
He forced his mind to let go of the rising anger and enjoy the moment. He spotted Jada on the stage, her hand grasping the metal pole, her shapely body encased in a skimpy red bikini with glittery tassels hanging from the bra. He slid his gaze over her, licking his dry lips as he recalled the way her warm body felt as she lay pinned beneath his heavy weight.

She glanced in his direction and smiled slightly, then continued her spin around the metal pole, lowering her body to the floor of the stage and allowing a customer to tuck a bill into the string tie at her hip. The man stroked her ass before she managed to get out of his reach.

Chandler
stifled the urge to rush across the room and tear the man’s head off. He slid his hands into his jeans pockets and strode toward the bar at the side of the room. Maybe he’d have a drink just to lend pretense to him being a mortal man in Jada’s presence.

The deep sounds of the music pulsed into his body. Loud male voices shouted to Jada urging her to undress.
Chandler
tried to ignore the caterwauling, telling himself he couldn’t react for fear of divulging his identity. He had to play the part of a moral man, an undercover policeman, for Jada’s sake.

The hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood straight up. Alarm filtered through his insides. He jerked his head from side to side, trying to find the reason behind his sudden fright. He hadn’t felt such terror since—

His eyes found him then—lounging at the rear of the room, nonchalantly, as though he were merely a mortal soul like all the other men in the room. His knees grew weak. He sank onto a leather stool and stared, his eyes disbelieving. His senses quivered with warning, yet he found moving to be impossible at the moment.

Johannes
, the master vampire who had bitten him and turned him into a vampire, occupied a seat at the back of the room. He appeared very much the modern man, dressed in a fashionable black suit, sporting a chic haircut. His dark angular face bore all the markings of a handsome man, giving no clue of the bloodthirsty vampire he really was.

Chandler
held his breath and looked at him. All the others in the room suddenly became inconsequential.
Johannes
, the master vampire who could destroy him with one flick of his sharp talons, one vicious bite from his razor sharp fangs—

He tried to control his fright. How foolish he had been to think he would never see the master again.
He lives forever.

Chandler
’s gut tightened with worry. He wasn’t a cowardly man—in his mortal state he had fought in the Crusades, killed many enemies with his lance, been a force to be reckoned with—but the mere sight of Johannes sent fear careening through his insides.
His powers are immeasurable.

He considered the possibility he might be wrong. What were the odds? Running into
Johannes
in a nightclub in the present time? He combed one hand through his hair. Chances were, he was imagining things. He narrowed his gaze on the vampire, studying him with every ounce of power he possessed. He tipped his nose into the air and drew in a deep breath, attempting to scent him.

The unmistakable stench of rotting flesh filled his nostrils. He shuddered.
Johannes
! Indeed, it is
Johannes
!

Relying on his vampire powers, he rose from the stool and inched his way to the door. He needed a safe place to consider his next move, to decide if he had any options except to flee the city as fast as he possibly could. He glanced once more at Jada. It might be the last time he laid eyes on her, ever.

Chapter Nine

Chandler
paced back and forth across the attic floor, his hands clasped behind his back. His body still shook from fear of seeing
Johannes
. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever thought he would see the vampire again. He strode to the end of the small attic room and turned on his heel.

“I should leave while I still have my head.”
That’s a cowardly way of looking at the situation.
He shook his head at the thought. He wasn’t a coward. He was fearsome and held great threat to mortal man.

But
Johannes
is not mortal.
The facts of the matter settled in his mind. His own vampire powers were no match for those of a master.
Johannes
had spent the past centuries living and learning how to adapt while he had been confined within a small statue, trapped by a witch’s curse. He had lost centuries of his existence.

Frustration welled up inside him. He had chosen to consider his options before he rashly took flight, perhaps seeking safety in
Europe
. Given the force of power, he held little hope of destroying the master.

He considered
Johannes
’s appearance. He looked mortal, giving little evidence of being different from any of the other mortal males in the room. He glanced down at his clothes, the tight jeans and thin t-shirt he had donned to appear mortal himself. He felt inadequate, lacking in so many ways.
Johannes
had appeared debonair in his well-fitted suit with the dark tie and crisp white shirt. His raven hair was just long enough to brush the collar of his shirt, large gold rings adorned fingers on both hands and a gold bracelet circled one wrist.

He had memorized how
Johannes
looked, right down to the defiant way he held his head while he conversed with those around him. He remembered him to be a pompous man—despite his vampire powers.
Or because of them.

Vampires were extraordinary creatures. They were able to endure many hardships, as long as their supply of warm blood was available. They had great powers of perception, able to sense another being from great distances. Their sense of smell was keen, as was their ability to hear even the minutest of things. They had great speed, able to leap for long distances and take to the air. The magical powers of shapeshifting allowed the creatures to become bats or birds and sometimes other creatures.

He rubbed his chin with one finger, contemplating his vampire existence. He was capable of vaporizing, of turning his undead body into a thin colorless mist and seeping into crevices too small for the mortal eye to distinguish.

“I’m capable of many things. But outsmarting the master is beyond my capability.” He remembered the voice that spoke to him earlier in the alley. A new surge of fright raced through his insides.

“It was
Johannes
who spoke to me.” His hands shook. His temples throbbed. “He is toying with me.”

He clenched his fists. He increased the speed of his pacing, turning sharply on his heel when he reached the wall of the small room. “He is aware of my presence in the city.”

Chandler
considered his words for a moment.
Johannes
had not laid eyes on him while he was in the nightclub, yet he had somehow come to him while he stood in the darkness of the city alley. He had taunted him, spoken to him only to instill puzzlement in his mind.

He pounded one fist into his palm. Anger raged inside him, overriding the shard of fright
Johannes
’s presence had brought to his insides. He resumed his pacing, his jaw set. If there was only some way he could get the upper hand—

He paused mid-step. For a fleeting moment, he had experienced a most odd sensation. He tried to recall how it felt, the intense notion that something had taken place within his mind. He raised one hand to his temple, contemplating, trying to bring back the feeling.

Chandler
.
Chandler
.

He froze. He heard the mention of his name, the soft voice that seemed to whisper in his brain. Recognition brought a slight smile to his lips. He held very still, waiting, perhaps hoping to hear more.

If you can hear me, come to me.

He was not mistaken. The voice sounded exactly like Jada’s voice. He concentrated, trying to discern her mood. A mixture of emotions wafted through his insides, rising and falling, ebbing as though they were waves drawing him into an unknown abyss. He raised his hands and massaged his temples, trying to combat the sensations.

Arousal suddenly streamed into his brain. He stood transfixed, his eyes closed, his body rigid as a new flood of feelings came to him. Lust, hot and needing, sprang to mind, accompanied by the most intense passion he had ever known.

“She desires me. Jada is thinking about me and reaching out to me.” His brows drew together.
Could I be mistaken?

Caution suddenly sprang up in his mind. He shook his head and tried to return his thoughts to
Johannes
and the dire situation facing him. Should he leave the city and find another place to take up residence? The threat to his safety was indeed real. He had seen the master with his own eyes, felt his existence, known his deathly touch. He heaved a long sigh. If only he had not met Jada or become mesmerized by her body. His thoughts were reluctant to release her image.

Chandler
resumed his pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. There was little recourse for him. He risked his very existence by remaining in the city so near the master.
I have to leave.

His mind made up, he left the attic room. All the preparations he had previously made—the notion of sometime buying the old house and becoming a part of the community, of continuing his affair with Jada—was suddenly dashed. A surge of regret settled inside his belly. He had been foolish to think he might actually have a relationship with a mortal woman. A short, disturbed grunt sprang from his throat. In the future, he would be certain to remind himself that such frivolous dreams were futile.

He glanced about the old house as he made his way down the staircase to the first floor. Darkness played little part in his assessment of the deteriorating rooms, the wallpaper ragged and peeling from the walls and the floors creaking with his every step. He glanced through the window near the front door and gauged the duration of the night. The sun would be rising in a few hours. He quickened his steps, reaching the door and grasping the glass doorknob.

Chandler
paused suddenly, chiding himself for his mortal characteristics. His every step across the old floor of the building had been completely unnecessary. He could have left the house via the upper window in the attic. There was no purpose, aside from needing to linger for some silly personal reason, which kept him confined within the structure. He shook his head and suddenly shapshifted, changing into a faint swirl of ebony mist that hovered slightly above the floor moments before oozing beneath the old door.

Chandler
.

He heard the voice in his ear, as though someone was beside him. He hesitated, shapshifted, waited.

Jada?

You bad boy. You’ve heard me, and yet you haven’t replied.

He considered the words he heard. The voice sounded like Jada’s voice. Every fiber in his body hoped it
was
her voice, but he knew what
Johannes
was capable of. He combed one hand through his hair.
Johannes
had spoken to him once that evening. Did he dare believe he wasn’t again?

Chandler
felt torn between wanting to see Jada and fearing that
Johannes
was tricking him. He clenched his fists and rolled his head back on his shoulders. He opened his mouth and released a loud bellow of discord. He gnashed his teeth, desperate to reach a decision.

Jada’s lush body and her willingness to have sex with him had completely distracted him. Now he was distressed at the thought of leaving her. He pulled in a quick breath and leapt into the air. There was only one way to rid his mind of torment. He would make one final stop to see her before he left the city forever. Silently, he cursed
Johannes
.
You vile creature! If only you would perish!