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

of the sound.
Five silhouettes of corrupted bodies appeared from the shadows—vampires who had waited too long to feed. Their teeth extended into jagged fangs, their arms elongated and dangled around their knees, and their fingers morphed into talons that nearly scraped the ground. Leathery wings folded at their backs, the tips rising above their monstrous heads.
“Holy guacamole,” I said. “Congratulations to you five for being the most terrifying things I’ve seen all day. Not all week. Earlier, Monday I believe, I saw a picture of your mom.” I pointed to the center vampire. “She makes you look pretty. I had nightmares for days after that.”
The five vampires hissed at me, but they didn’t attack, which unnerved me more than if they had attacked. It was unnatural, like watching a horror movie and the person beside you just laughs the entire time. What do I do with that response? Someone’s face is getting carved off and worn by a naked, dancing psychopath, and my date is giggling like a seven-year-old girl at a fake tea party. Unsettling.
Vampires who haven’t fed—Ravens, as Xander and I called them in our service days, was short for ravenous—never resisted the chance to feed. They couldn’t. It would be like a lion looking at a fresh kill after weeks of not eating and saying, “Nah, I’ll pass.” Ravens literally could not go against their baser cravings. Their restraint from swarming and killing me meant that they were not your typical vampires, but in the service of a Nephil. This meeting wasn’t only with a few Ravens. A Nephil had set it up. The woman who had spoken from the darkness, most likely—and that fucking terrified me.
Who was she, and why was she wasting her time setting up a meeting with me? An ally of Hephaestus was the only reasonable answer I could come up with. But that didn’t makes sense. This had been about Callie’s murder, and I had still obeyed Hephaestus during that incident seven years ago. Unless, he now used the anniversary of her death to draw me into this trap and kill me. That didn’t feel right, either. Why would he send another Nephil with her Cursed to finish me off? This had nothing to do with him. Which brought me back to question numero uno: Who was this Nephil?
I lifted the Glock and centered the sights on the middle Raven’s face. Due to their changed state, they were stronger and faster and more durable than a fed vampire. A human-made bullet wouldn’t take them down, would barely slow them. I grinned, knowing my gun had some silver surprises. I held my aim high and steady. It made me feel better about myself, the way a big truck makes a poorly-endowed man feel.
“Lower your weapon, Mr. Hunter,” said the glacial voice from behind me.
I turned my head to face her—though I didn’t give my back to the Ravens or lower my weapon.
A woman stepped from the shadows. Even with the darkness pressed around us, I could see her—as if she wanted me to see her. She wore twin blades on her hips. I couldn’t make out the material or design of the weapons, but they glowed red, as if stained by blood. Her black hair fell around her shoulders like writhing darkness.
“Sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be lowering any weapons,” I said, triangulating my position so I could see the Ravens and the woman at once. “Call me crazy, but I’m slow to trust someone who associates with such company as these things.” I gestured at the cursed creatures.
She sauntered along the edges of the shadows, never fully stepping into the glow of my phone’s light. “If we meant you harm, we would have attacked you by now.”
They’d certainly had ample opportunity to kill me already, but they hadn’t. So, why did she want me alive? To give me the information about Callie’s killers? That seemed too easy, too simple.
There was something strange about her appearance… something that I couldn’t quite place. She seemed to disappear into the darkness, only to reappear faintly as a silhouette, a shadow of herself. I didn’t trust her wavering form or her promise of safety.
I kept the gun fixed on the Ravens, just in case they tried something funny. “If I made a habit of trusting your kind,” I said, “well, habits don’t get the chance to form in death… do they?”
She clicked her tongue like a teacher scolding her student. “For the last time, lower your weapon, or I will be unable to ignore the threat any longer.”
I scraped my teeth against my lip and considered her offer. “You know,” I said, resigning to her word and dropping the gun in its holster. If she was a Nephil who had control over cursed Ravens, then my silver would do next to nothing against her. I wasn’t an idiot, though. To even the odds, I unsheathed the silver-bladed hunting knife, courtesy of Xander. The Ravens kept their distance, still not attacking me, even with my gun put away. “I like a strong woman, one who can dominate me. Submit my strong will to her own. If you’re free after this, I say we grab a drink, head back to my place—or yours—see where the night takes us.”
“Mr. Hunter—”
“Joseph,” I interrupted. “Joey to my friends, and you, of course. Some people call me Joan, but they’re just being rude.”
“Joseph,” the woman said, “Might I say one thing?”
I cocked my head and sighed. “Say your thing. Who am I to stop you?” I gestured with the knife for her to continue.
“You speak too much. Do you know that?”
“Well, that’s not really what I expected you to say. But, yes, I’ve heard that before. Not for a while, though. As I’m sure you know, I’ve been quite absent for the past few years.” If the shadow woman had cautioned to bring five Ravens to meet with me, I figured she knew about my past, about who I had been.