Shadow Born: A Joseph Hunter Novel: Book 1 (Joseph Hunter Series)

given their unquenchable libido.
I exhaled slowly and with control.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she said, licking her lip.
I shook my head and cleared my throat and adjusted my pants. “Not a problem,” I muttered. I had never seen a vampire consider the feelings of someone else—apologize for their actions as rude or harmful.
Maybe M.I.S. had it right. Maybe these creatures could control their urges, given the right guidance. I chuckled at the thought. This vampire had charmed me, all right. I had to remember how dangerous their enthrallments could be. Glancing off to the side, I noticed a bright light bleeding through the open door and onto the prison floor. It touched the edge of her bed.
Changing the subject, I asked, “Does it hurt you? The light.” I nodded to the floor.
The vampire finished her meal. She stared at the creeping light, then shook her head. “No.” She set the empty bag on the mattress beside her feet.
“Here,” I said. “I’ll take that.” I reached out a hand, enticing her to make a move. I wanted to see how much control she had over herself, if she could resist fresh blood after just tasting the stale, preserved blood.
She picked up the plastic and handed it over. Her green, hungry eyes never left mine. I crumbled the plastic into a ball and stuffed it in my pocket, then retreated back to the corner of her small cell.
“Thank you,” she said, grinning—her teeth bloodied. “Joseph, right?”
“The one and only,” I confirmed.
She giggled. “You are as handsome as they say. If you are tired of living in a decaying body, I would love to experience you.”
I coughed. “Well,” I said, reeling for a retort, “thank you for the compliment. I’m always accepting hot air to inflate my ego, but, I’m sorry—I’ll have to pass on your offer. But believe you me, it’s tempting.”
She grinned. “You know where to find me, if you change your mind.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Sometimes,” she said, “it’s better that way.”
I sniffled, wiping an arm across my nose. “You’ve met my friend?”
“Detective Shells?” she asked, leaning back against her pillow, stretching the white fabric of her nightgown tight across her body. “He can join us, too.”
“Oh, no,” I said, knowing Xander was listening. “He wouldn’t be much fun. No humor, no desire to experiment. He’s a missionary, a servant to God, through and through. Also,” I held my finger and thumb close together, “small, from what I hear.”
“I hear that you’re worth two men.”
“You’ve been talking to straight liars,” I said, shaking my head. I hadn’t slept with a woman in seven years, not since Callie’s death. But I enjoyed the vampire’s compliments, so I played along. I did have to get back on topic, though—unfortunately. “Did I hear you right? Did you call him Detective Shells? That what they call him these days?” I placed my chin on my fist, as if in thought.
“Is that not what he is?”
I shrugged and shook my head. I knew him as much worse. Should I tell her that? “Don’t know,” I said, pushing myself off the wall and ambling toward her. It’s amazing how comfortable I felt with her. I could have sat down beside her, had I wanted to. To tell you the truth… I did want to. But part of me knew better—knew that she held an empathic link between us and she massaged it to calm me, to pull me in, to weaken me. “He showed up at my house today. I haven’t seen him in… oh, five years. Said he showed you this.” I glanced at the picture of my wife before handing it to her. The image of Callie anchored me against the steady current the vampire was using to drown me. “Xander mentioned that you knew something about her murder. That you would only speak to me about it.”
The woman held the picture. Her hands trembled slightly. For a moment, she stared at the image and didn’t say a word. She set the photograph on the bed and looked at me. “Sit here… by me,” she said.
At her command, a sudden force willed me even closer to her. I wanted nothing more than to sit by her and hold her face and kiss her and run my hands over the thin, transparent fabric that barely covered her skin. I refused the urge, though, refused to obey her transfixing magic.
“Why did you call me here?” I asked, gritting my teeth with the effort of not sitting on her bed. “Why today?” But she had just shown her hand, allowing me to glimpse the answer to my question. The vampire wanted me dead. She had tried to charm and ensnare and control me, to kill me. “Who sent you here?”
The magnetism faded as I resisted her. She frowned at me—a child pouting. “You are extremely powerful,” she muttered. “Do you know that?”
My fingers itched to grab the stake and shove it through her heart—that part the legends got right. Like killing any human, shove a stake or a dagger or shoot a bullet through a vampire’s heart or face, they will die. Problem was identifying the creatures—usually only possible in their starved state, when they looked like your creepy, Great Uncle Herb—and then getting your weapon through their skin. It became scaly and hard, nearly impossible to penetrate. Again, that’s what she said.
So, the easiest way to kill a vampire was to identify it, then kill it while in its human form.
In my moment of indecision, wherein I considered killing her out of anger and impatience alone, I briefly missed my old profession. I recalled why I’d loved it before—monsters were arrogant pricks who followed their own rules. Whatever sentimental thoughts I had earlier about M.I.S. fell apart. I saw her for what she was—a vampire, a monster who felt or knew nothing but lust and hunger.
“Tonight, three hours before midnight—”
“Just say nine,” I said, annoyed. “I understand nine o’clock.”
She frowned at me. “Three