Carter: A Forged Bloodlines Novel

Copyright © 2015 Lisa Olsen, all rights reserved.

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This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, copied, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any other format or changed in any way, including the author’s name and title, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.  The use of any real person, company or product names are for literary effect only and used without permission.  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

Visit the author’s website at http://www.lisaolsen.net

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Acknowledgements

Thanks to my beta readers Randi Pandi, Laveda Kasch, and Lisa High for the great feedback.  Many thanks to my editing team – Beckie Pimentel of Lady Bex Editing Services for pushing this one through ahead of her own project, to Marilyn Weaver for her awesome comments, and James Olsen for the amazing cover and teasers. Thanks to my street team for all the love and support in sharing my promos around.  And a big thanks to the readers – I hope you guys enjoy Carter as much as I enjoyed writing him.

Chapter One

Carter

I couldn’t get the theme song to Mission Impossible out of my head.  Dun, dun, da da, dun, dun, da da.  It was all I could do to keep it on the inside as I followed the target down the deserted street, keeping to the shadows. 

Not that Sideburns-guy noticed.  His belly was full, the latest infusion of blood giving his cheeks a ruddy glow I could’ve spent the next hour cheerfully beating out of his face.  But I’m a patient guy when I need to be.  I’d been following Sideburns for the past three nights, and all I knew so far was that he had a George Michael fetish if you went by his ripped denim and studded leather jacket. 

That, and unlike George, Sideburns preferred busty blondes.  If he hadn’t compelled them and let them go minus a pint or two, I would’ve put an end to him already.  But seeing as how he was a model citizen of vampire society, I relied on him to bring me to other prey.  Finally, he rolled up to a disreputable part of town that looked promising.  As soon as I caught sight of the name – Blood Bar – I knew I was on the right track. 

That was what it was like every time I came to a new town.  Spot the vamp, follow that vamp to other vamps, thin the herd of all the obvious bozos, rinse and repeat. Boston was a new territory for me.  That meant I could hunt relatively easily, unlike the west coast where I was a little more well known, thanks to some of my more spectacular exploits. 

I know what you’re thinking – what kind of an asshole kills his own kind?  This kind of ass... I mean me.  I do.  I’m a vampire hunter who just happens to be a vampire also.  Or as I prefer to think of it, an exterminator, making the nighttime safer, one bloodsucker at a time. 

Sideburns disappeared into the bar for an after dinner drink, and I moved to follow, only to be blocked by a beefy vamp inside the door.  You know the type, all neck and no brains?  This one had an added bonus of a snake tattoo coiling up the side of his bald head, in case his mother wasn’t proud enough.  He probably scared most people into needing Depends on first sight (or if not, his breath would probably do the trick), but I knew those muscles would slow him down if push came to shove. 

But I was there to play nice, not teach him a lesson in respect (or personal hygiene), so I flashed him a smile.  I’m not looking for trouble, just a beer.  

This is a private bar.

No shit, I snorted, my smile crossing into smirk territory.  You want to see my membership?  I flashed him my fangs, and he took a startled step backwards. 

I get it.  I don’t look like the typical vamp.  In my experience, vamps were either the bruiser/tough guys like Snakehead and Sideburns-guy, or they were the impossibly pretty boys like that Angel guy Buffy was always crying over, or every single cast member on The Vampire Diaries.  Or Bishop.  God, I hated that guy.

I’m not tall, dark, and handsome.  I don’t smolder.  What I am is fairly good at blending in for the most part.  People don’t see a killer when they look at me.  They see an average guy in a beat up jacket over a hoodie and jeans.  Nothing special.  With my shaggy blonde hair and pale skin, I wouldn’t win any beauty contests, but that didn’t bother me. I wasn’t out to make an impression on anyone, dead or alive.  I usually didn’t even let on that I was a fellow vampire, but that seemed to be the only way to get into the bar. 

We good, or do you want to see who’s got the pointiest fangs? I asked when he didn’t budge.

You’re fine, he grunted, stepping out of the way, disinterested once he realized I was one of his kind.  On the one hand, I was impressed they even bothered to hire a bouncer to keep random people off the street from winding up on the menu.  On the other hand, it made me wonder what kind of shenanigans went on in the bar if it wasn’t open to the public?  It wasn’t like they were overly concerned with hiding what kind of place it was with a name like Blood Bar.  How did the Order let them get away with it?  They might as well have called it Fangs R Us. 

Inside looked like a typical bar though.  Bad lighting, a couple of flat screens up on the wall with the game on, and a chipped Formica bar that had seen better days.  The only thing it lacked from a regular bar was the stink of grease in the air or spent peanut shells on the floor.  The patrons there didn’t go for those kind of munchies. 

The overall atmosphere was pretty chill.  I got a couple of glances as I bellied up to the bar and ordered a beer, but no one stared beyond that.  There were a few humans in the room (accompanied by vamps, not on their own), and no one stared at them either.  That was a good sign.  No open displays of blood play or fangs.  I was seriously under stocked for weapons if it turned out to be a feeder bar.

My beer slid across the counter at me, and I set up at a corner table for another game of spot the asshole, trying to pick the most likely candidate to follow home. 

And then she walked in.

I’d seen a zillion girls like her in my day.  Wannabe feeders, going for that slutty goth style they thought vampires wanted.  She turned more than a few heads with her getup – a short, ruffly skirt that ended just under her ass, and ripped tights paired with chunky boots that laced up her calves.  The babydoll t-shirt, featuring a zombie Stewie from Family Guy, was easily two sizes too small for her, stretching tight over her breasts and revealing a strip of creamy skin across her belly.  A short leather jacket completed the look, along with enough silver jewelry to make her jingle when she walked. 

She was pretty enough, but with so much make-up on, it was hard to tell what color her eyes were, let alone if her lips were usually that lush.  This one had dark brown hair pulled up into a messy top knot, one of those hairstyles that girls spent hours on to look like they just rolled out of bed. 

She was perfect.  I didn’t have to watch anyone else in the place but her.  Whoever took the bait was the one I’d target for the night. 

Sure enough, it didn’t take long for someone to zero in on her, another guy with a neck tattoo, though this one was of a fish.  Not even a shark, but a fish, like a carp or a mackerel or something.  Who gets a tattoo of a dead fish on their neck?  Bait-girl didn’t seem to mind though, offering him an inviting smile as he took the spot next to her at the bar. 

I didn’t have to use my super hearing to tell how the conversation was going.  What’s a nice kid like you doing in a place like this, yadda, yadda, yadda.  Did people still use lines like that?  Even I knew it was lame, and I’d been out of the dating game since way before bellbottoms had gone out of style.  I knew what was coming next, a playful flirt back as she pretended not to be an easy target, though everyone in the bar knew this was exactly what she’d come there for.  It was no wonder Snakehead at the door had let her in, nobody ever said no to a sure thing. 

After that, I only listened with half an ear to their small talk, more interested in studying the other bar patrons to make sure I’d remember them if I spotted them out on the street.  Finishing my beer, I contemplated ordering another, when they rose to their feet, and I caught sight of something out of the ordinary as Fishneck paid for her drink. 

For half a second, a look flashed across her face, as though she was terrified beyond the capacity to move, like a scared bunny caught in a trap.  Just as quickly it was gone, and I thought maybe I’d imagined it from the way she smiled up at Fishneck and let him lead her out of the bar. 

I got up to follow a few seconds later.  Whether or not she was having second thoughts about her night, it was time for me to go to work.    

It wasn’t hard to find them out on the street, up a couple of blocks, though I was surprised to find her backing away as he led her to a parked car. 

Where are we going? she asked, her bright lips drawn into a pout.

You wanted to see Ivy, right?  I’ll take you to her.

Why don’t you just give me the address?

Why do that when I can take you myself?  All close and personal like, Fishneck grinned, eying her up and down.

There it was again, the scared bunny eyes.  What did she think leaving a bar with a vampire would lead to?  If I stuck to my plan, I’d have to follow them to a more secluded spot and wait for things to get out of hand, but that was when I thought she was up for the suckfest.  There was something in that look, an innocence despite the getup that made me think she was in way over her head.  Maybe she wasn’t a feeder at all?  We were still a little close to the bar for my tastes, but I decided I’d better step in.

Is this guy bothering you? I asked, figuring I’d see those eyes swim with gratitude, but they only hardened with annoyance. 

I’ve got it covered, she replied dismissively, taking a step closer to the car.

Somehow I seriously doubt that, I scoffed.  Fishneck bristled, spoiling for a fight, but I let my coat drift open, revealing the butt of my gun.  Maybe find some other juice box for the night, huh, buddy? I smiled. 

His hands closed into fists, but he backed off. Vampires could survive a bullet or four, but there were easier ways to catch a meal.  Muttering to himself, he stalked around to the driver’s side and climbed in while the girl stared in disappointment.

No, wait, she called out as he drove away.  Aw, man... you let him get away, she wailed, turning to level a look at me that would’ve flayed the flesh off of a mere mortal.

All I did was cross my arms, annoyed by her lack of gratitude.  Oh, I’m sorry.  Were you in the mood to be raped and killed tonight?  My bad. 

I wouldn’t have let it get that far.

Uh huh.

I can handle myself, she insisted, her arms crossing in a position that mirrored mine, and I let my arms swing free.

Yeah, you look like a real killer, I snorted.  I’m sure that guy was a regular choirboy too.

I’m serious, you really blew it for me.  Now I have to start all over again.  Her arms fell to her sides as her gaze swept up the street in the direction of the vampire bar.

Hey, if you’ve got some kind of a death wish, go do it somewhere else.  I have a job to do.  I didn’t have all night to babysit her.

I don’t have a death wish, I’m... I’m in the middle of something, she frowned, tugging uncomfortably at the hem of her too small top, but that exchanged the extra skin showing from her waist to her cleavage.  Something important.

Cruising for cheap thrills in bars is hardly worth losing your life over, don’t you think?

Her eyes snapped with anger and disgust.  I’m not cruising for... I’m...  She shook her head.  Forget it, you wouldn’t believe me.  She walked away, her boots ringing on the sidewalk as she put distance between her and the bar.

I should’ve let her go and gone back to the bar to choose my next target, but for some reason, my feet took me in the same direction, adding a quick jog to catch up with her.  Try me.

No, you’ll think I’m insane.  Her arms crossed over her chest again as she clomped along, not slowing her pace.  I almost think I’m insane when I say it out loud, so I’m trying not to.

What the hell did she know?  Or think she knew?  The existence of vampires was a closely guarded secret, one the Order was tasked with keeping at all costs.  The only humans that were in on the secret were strictly compelled never to talk about them.  Maybe she was just a nutbar?  Fine, let’s hear your important job for the night that starts with you going home with a loser like Fishneck.

She blinked in confusion, apparently she hadn’t paid attention to his choice of neck ink.  Oh, you mean the guy at the bar?  He’s... it’s not about him, exactly.  I mean, he’s part of it, but not him specifically.

Wow, that totally cleared things up for me, thanks.

I’m sorry, it’s hard to know where to start, she sighed, her shoulders drooping, and I felt like shit for giving her a hard time.

No, I’m sorry... What’s your name?

Holly, she replied without hesitation.  And you are?

Interested to hear what’s so important that you’d come to a neighborhood like this in the middle of the night.

How do you know this isn’t my neighborhood? she countered, and I fired right back.

Is it?

Well, no...  I gave her a look that said – I rest my case, and her lips pressed together tightly.  I’d seen that look before on Anja’s face a hundred times, usually right before she smacked me.  Look, y-you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, she sputtered. 

And you do?

Of course, she replied with utter confidence, that crumbled half a second later.  I mean, in theory I do.  But I have to say, so far this night isn’t going quite as planned.

What did you have planned?  You’d cruise shitty bars looking for rough trade, letting some loser pick you up, and show you up close and personal what it’s like to be a statistic?

Her scowl deepened.  I didn’t let him pick me up, I was gathering valuable intel.  And it’s not like I came unprepared.

You’re armed?  My brows rose as I took in her skimpy outfit.

Of course I am.  Do I look completely stupid to you?  Don’t answer that! she added, eyes narrowing as I opened my mouth. 

I took an extra few seconds before I spoke, doing my best not to sound condescending.  Whatever you’re armed with, it’s not enough.

Holly gave me a sidelong glance.  Do you know?

I know lots of things.

"No, I mean... do you know what kind of a bar you were in tonight?"

The kind that waters down the whiskey and doesn’t clean the bathrooms? I joked, but she only shook her head, her agitation spreading. 

Hey, I’m not screwing around.  Look, once I tell you this... there’s no going back.  You can’t un-know it, and maybe it’s for the best if you go home and forget you ever saw me tonight.

I could say the same to you.  I was two seconds away from compelling her to do exactly that, but part of me was curious what she thought was going on in that bar. 

Why?  Were you planning on saving me from that guy so you could attack me yourself?  This time she snorted, as if that was the most ludicrous thing she’d ever heard.  No offense, but you hardly seem like the type to hang out in a bar like that.

If only she knew.  It was my first time there, but it ain’t the roughest place I’ve ever been in.

Holly stopped to look at me more closely, and I didn’t like what I saw flit over her expressive face.  Sorry, you just don’t look like the type.  In fact, you’re lucky that guy didn’t turn on you.

I can handle a guy like Fishneck, I scowled, opening and closing my hands to work out the tension that rolled through me when her skepticism didn’t go away. 

You?  You were like the least threatening guy in there.

Thanks, I growled, but she didn’t seem the least bit afraid of me.  In fact, she looked a bit sorry for me. 

No, that’s a compliment.  You look, you know... normal.

I went still, counting to five in my head before I let out a long breath, not sure exactly why her digs bothered me as much as they did.  Normal was the vibe I was going for, but she looked at me like she thought she could take me on herself.  Hell, maybe she could.  For all I knew, she had a black belt in Jujitsu.  Nah, I’d still kick her ass if it came down to a... I shook my head to clear it, I was getting way off track.

Could we have less of the insults and maybe go back to the part where you were about to tell me what you were doing in a place like that tonight?

Holly dropped it, the light of excitement coming back into her eyes.  Pretty blue-gray eyes, now that I saw them up close.  Like I said, I was looking for intel.

You’re not a reporter, are you?  It would explain the nosiness and utter lack of self awareness.

No, are you? she asked, her head tilting to one side.  Is that what you were doing there, out of your element?

What kind of intel are you looking for? I bit out.

Oh, I’m looking for a girl named Ivy.  This is her.  She reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew a picture, holding it up so I could see the girl.  She had pale, straight, blonde hair and light, crystalline blue eyes.  Her face was lit up with a slightly crooked smile that was oddly endearing.  She looked more like a teen than a woman, and I started to see why someone like Holly had ventured into a bar like that.  Have you seen her?

No, I replied honestly.  And I can’t say the Blood Bar looks like her type of joint.

It probably isn’t, she sighed, tucking the picture away.  But it’s my only lead.

It was my turn to stare at her with my head tilted to one side.  Are you a cop?

God, no.  I’d make a terrible cop, she laughed.  "Wait, are you a cop?"

No, I hate donuts.  So what’s this big un-knowable secret then?  Is there a white slavery ring operating out of that bar or something?  I knew there wasn’t anything like that going on, but since the odds were she had no clue what kind of bar she’d actually stumbled upon, I threw her a more likely scenario. 

No, it’s much worse than that, she said, her eyes luminous in the darkened street.  It’s a vampire bar.

Shit.  What?

I know how it sounds, but it’s true.  Her voice fell to a dramatic whisper as she looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to us.  Vampires are real, and that bar is where they hang out.

I had a couple of choices available to me, but I decided to go with disbelief.  Did someone tell you they were a vampire to get you into bed, and you believed them?

No, it’s nothing like that.  I’m not a vampire groupie.  My gaze very deliberately traveled up and down her body, and she scowled, arms crossing over her chest again.  I don’t normally dress like this, I swear.  I’m not here to chase after vampires, this is about finding Ivy.  I’m not sure how she fits into this exactly.  I just know that this is the only place I have to look, and I have to find her before something really bad happens.

I hated to tell her that if her friend had gotten tangled up with a vampire, the odds were she’d never be heard from again.  Say someone in there does know how to find this friend of yours.  What makes you think that’s a vampire bar?  Have you ever met one before?

Not before tonight, no.

Then what makes you so sure they exist?

I just know that they do.

Wow, that sounds like pretty overwhelming evidence, you’ve convinced me, I muttered, wondering how much of her memory I’d have to erase to get her to a place where less crazy impulses reigned supreme. 

Look, I don’t care if you believe me or not.  I only told you so you’d back off.  It isn’t safe for you to know any more than that.

But it is for you?

I can take care of myself.  Her chin came up with determination, which would’ve been impressive if I thought she could stand more than three seconds up against an actual vampire. 

Oh really?  What do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t shown up to scare Fishneck off?

I told you, I’m armed.

Don’t tell me, you’ve got a can of hairspray and a lighter in your purse.  God save us all from her keen fashion sense. 

No, something a little more advanced.  She reached into her pocket and withdrew a Taser.

Okay great.  So that buys you a few extra seconds.  Definitely not enough to get away from a vampire.

That’s what this is for.  With her other hand, she pulled out a pencil, and I lost it.  I laughed so hard my eyes teared up. 

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.  Is this a joke?  Did Anja put you up to this?  She’s trying to see if I’ve still got my white hat on, isn’t she?  More laughter bubbled up until my ribs ached. 

I don’t know who that is, but this is definitely not a joke, she retorted, not at all amused by my laughter.  Every time I tried to get in a breath to talk, I kept picturing her jabbing the pencil into Fishneck’s chest and frowning when it snapped in half.  And then I sobered, because the next step meant she’d be dead, and that was no laughing matter. 

I will find Ivy, and you can’t stop me. 

No?  You sure about that?  It was time to stomp out that ridiculous plan, and I invaded her personal space, pressing her up against the nearby building fast enough to send a few more strands of her ebony hair tumbling onto her shoulders.  Those pretty blue-gray eyes widened in fear before my compulsion slid over her.  Take your Taser and your pathetic little stake, and quit playing vampire slayer.  That’s my job.  Forget about tonight, forget about your search for that missing girl, and forget all about vampires.  You had a night out with the girls.  Understand?

I understand, she replied, her voice wooden and emotionless. 

Good girl, I murmured, ignoring how soft her body felt against mine before I pushed away from the wall.  Go home, I added, swearing under my breath when she nodded, looking up and down the street in a daze.  I couldn’t leave her there to get mugged or worse.  Instead, I stuck with her until I flagged down a cab, trusting the driver to take her to the address she gave in a breathy voice.  Hopefully it was her home and not some random address, but I’d done my part to keep her out of trouble for the night. 

I headed back to the bar.  My night was just beginning. 

Chapter Two

Holly

You gonna get that?

Wha... huh?  I guess I was in kind of a daze, I didn’t even realize my cell was ringing until the cabbie pointed it out to me.  Oh, right.  I must’ve been more out of it than I thought, because it never once occurred to me not to answer the phone when I saw who it was from.  H’lo?

I’m glad you’re up.  Listen...

My insides clenched as I realized the magnitude of my stupidity.  What the hell was I thinking taking a call from my boss at quarter to midnight? 

I know this is last minute, but Susan called out sick.

Where was my head at?  It was something we all learned within two weeks of working for a twenty-four hour dispatch center, never ever answer the phone when the boss-man calls after five p.m. on your day off.  And what was I doing in a cab anyway?  Where the hell was I going?  I turned to peer out the window onto the blackened streets, but I didn’t recognize where we were. 

Holly?

Oh, right.  It’s not a good time, Jerry.  I have plans.  It might’ve even been true.  I had a skirt on, and that was almost a special occasion in and of itself.  But why were my good tights all ripped up?  Aw, man, they cost ten bucks!

So did I.  You don’t think I like making calls like this on my own time, do you?  I wouldn’t call you if I didn’t need you to come in.

Cry me a river.  I felt no sympathy for a guy who was probably wrapped up in a lap blanket, making calls from the comfort of his couch while he worked on a big lighthouse puzzle.  Aw, come on, Jerry.  This is my first night off in over a week.  Why can’t you ask Danny to come in?

Because he’s already working a double for Curtis.  That flu is hitting us hard this year.

Yeah, that makes me want to come into the germ incubator so much, I grimaced.

Think of all the overtime you’ll be getting.  And you’d really be helping me out.  I promise I’ll make a note of it in your file.  You know I can’t let Bill go home until we have a replacement for him and he’s already been there for nine hours.  The UL rating...

Ugh, fine, I cut him off before he started droning on about the regulations that stated we had to have two alarm dispatchers on duty at all times to maintain our licensed status.  But you have to hire more people, Jerry.  This is getting ridiculous.  Every time someone calls out sick we go through this.

I’ve got resumes sitting on my desk, I need a chance to go through them is all.

Make the time, I grumbled, leaning forward to get the cabbie’s attention.  How long will it take you to get to Franklin and Pearl?

At this time of night?  About fifteen.

I’ll be there within the next half hour, I promised.

That’s my little trooper, Jerry replied, his voice brimming with thanks. 

Yeah, yeah, I muttered, hanging up before he asked me to do something else. 

There wasn’t time to stop at home before going in, but most of us hoarded snacks in our lockers, so I wasn’t too worried about getting through the unexpected shift.  I was fairly sure I could talk Danny into splitting whatever he’d brought or flirt one of the guards into making a french fry run for me anyway. 

How much do I owe you? I asked when we pulled in front of the office, built more like a fortress, with a twelve foot wall surrounding the property. 

Twenty-five fifty.

Shit.  Did I have twenty-five fifty?  I didn’t have my purse with me, but a quick check of my pockets turned up my mini-wallet, the one I usually took out drinking with my friends.  It was big enough for my ID, my debit card, a few folded bills, and thankfully my work badge, since getting called in to work was a frequent hazard. 

Unfortunately, the wad of folded bills only turned up seven dollars.  Oh no... I bit my lip to keep from blurting out the more colorful words that leapt to mind as I realized I didn’t have my debit card with me.  A wave of panic swept over me, caught between calling up to ask if anyone in the office had some cash I could borrow or asking him to take me home to raid the cookie jar for my emergency stash.  And where the hell was my debit card?  Was I going to have to call the bank and put a stop on my account? 

My hands shoved into my pockets, moving on auto pilot, even though I knew I wouldn’t have another wad of cash, buy maybe my debit card was tucked into another pocket?  Instead, I found