Blood Entwined- The Laurent Blood Legacy: Magic, New Mexico, #44

Chapter 1

Annie Gerard was murdered six months ago, then her nightmare began. To be specific, she didn’t die. That would’ve been a blessing. She’d been transformed into a monster. A vampire.

To make matters worse, she’d been left for dead. Her assailant came from behind. She never saw his face before the attack. He hadn’t uttered a word. The only sounds she heard were her screams as his lethal fangs tore through her tender flesh.

Tonight, when she closed her eyes, she could still feel the pain as he bit into her neck. His fingers dug into her side as she struggled to escape. With his other hand, he pulled back her head to expose her jugular.

She remembered that evening as if it were yesterday. When she woke, she felt dazed and starved. She didn’t crave food. Unfortunately, she didn’t know what would satisfy her uncontrollable hunger.

When she heard the heartbeat of the bum at the end of the alley, she understood the terrible truth of what she’d become. His blood called out to her. Nothing mattered but taking in his life-force. She’d seen enough vampire films to answer the simplest of questions.

Her heightened senses took in the stench around her. The odor of rotten garbage and human waste stung her nostrils. She powered forward. The need to feed took over any ability to reason.

As she approached the filthy, unconscious man, the rhythm of his heartbeat grew louder in her head. To her horror, her eye teeth extended and sharpened. An invisible force moved her toward her prey. Helpless to control her need, she became a spectator to whatever would occur.

The ability to think for herself vanished. An instinct she couldn’t comprehend controlled her. Her hunger would soon be satisfied.

Pain the likes of which she never experienced brought Annie to her knees. She crawled the last few feet, desperate for blood. She knew she needed to drink from him to stop the terrible needle-sharp cramps in her stomach.

With inherent knowledge, she bit into his neck, piercing the jugular vein. Crimson energy rushed through her system. Nothing had ever tasted as wonderful as his blood or as satisfying. She took in his essence and memories.

After she drank her fill, she wiped away the blood that splattered over the lower portion of her face. With her first kill, she didn’t know how to properly use her lips to create suction, eliminating the waste of any of the precious fluid.

With his blood feeding her famished cells, the ability to reason returned. She looked in horror at what she’d done. Lost in the lust to feed, she had killed. She reared back her head and cried out in grief. What had she done?

An animal didn’t feel remorse over fulfilling its instinctual need to feed. As a child, she had a cat who tormented its prey before he feasted. Regardless of what had occurred, she wasn’t an animal. Guilt consumed her.

Her victim had been a husband and father. He’d been broken by a war he couldn’t forget or come to grips with. She’d felt his internal struggles as if they were her own.

Addiction had been his escape and downfall. Any hope of him recovering and returning to his family was negated as soon as she tasted his blood. His life-force fulfilled a need within her she couldn’t deny.

Annie collapsed by the deceased man, sobbing. From this moment on, she swore she’d never kill again. She wouldn’t be victimized by what she’d become. Somehow, she’d learn to control her hunger, never falling prey to her own actions.

Every evening she immediately fed, not allowing the uncontrollable need for blood to overtake her. Since that fateful night, she traveled after sunset and then sought shelter from the deadly sun. Something called her, but she couldn’t locate where she needed to go.

After that first kill, she left Chicago, taking nothing from her past with her. She drove aimlessly and dealt with the perils of staying in motels. The threat of someone entering her room or the sun’s penetration didn’t allow her to get proper rest.

Her days were spent partially sleeping on different motel bathroom floors. How she longed to sleep in a bed again. She’d seal the door to prevent light from seeping through. Never spending more than a day in any given location.

Early each night, she selected a victim and drank just enough of his blood to take the edge off her hunger. The blood sustained her, but never stopped the continual nagging for more of what her body craved. She’d vowed never to kill again. Her continued hunger would be her penance.

Picking up men turned out to be easy. She wore a slutty top, applied tons of eye makeup, and put on a fiery-red wig to look the part of a woman looking for a good time. Even after becoming a vampire, her wholesome face, clear blue eyes, and baby-fine blond hair wouldn’t draw a man to her. Men weren’t looking for the girl next door for a one-night stand.

Her victim would wake feeling woozy and discover the cash in his wallet missing. He’d have little memory of the woman he picked up in the bar the night before. Annie would be no more than a phantom in his mind.

She did as little damage as possible to the neck upon which she feasted. She discovered her saliva healed the small marks she created to draw out their blood. If her prey called the police, he’d only be able to describe her breasts. Thank God for the modern pushup bra. By the time her victim regained consciousness, she’d be on the road, her car fueled by his cash.

Each night resulted in the same pattern. Feed, steal, and then drive. Never knowing which direction she’d travel until she pulled out of the gas station. She lived an aimless existence. One day, she hoped to stumble across whatever drove her on.

Marc Bouchard stared at the crescent moon from his wood deck. The desert held a unique beauty at night. A stillness existed that stirred his heart. His surroundings evolved as darkness transformed the world around him.

A variety of nocturnal animals emerged from their hiding places to search out food. Snakes and reptiles sought the sun-heated rocks to warm their sluggish bodies before hunting. How similar these animals were to him when he needed to feed.

Being a vampire, he wasn’t impacted by the cold that embraced the desert after sunset. He’d been in Magic, New Mexico, for six months, but rarely left the confines of his own property. He marveled at how quickly he felt at home in the desert. His new surroundings proved so different from the small town in France he originally called home.

For six centuries of his seven hundred plus years, he hunted vampires who killed aimlessly, threatening to expose their race to humans. The elders of the Vampire Council paid him well to eliminate the risk of discovery. He lived the life of a nomad, never putting down roots until he reached Magic. Friends he’d retained over the years could be counted on one hand.

He’d found peace in this little town of supernatural beings. It felt great no longer being an oddity, but a member of a community that included vampires, shape shifters, werewolves, witches, trolls, and even aliens. A powerful protection spell made them all appear human to outsiders. Not that he ventured into town often. He valued his solitude.

After his failure in Chicago, he knew retirement was the right move. He’d lost his edge. The vampire toyed with him, showing his superiority. It had been humiliating.

Regardless of the number of traps he set, the rogue vampire remained elusive. The body count continued to grow, but he’d been no closer to finding the culprit after four months of searching. Admitting defeat, he called in another hunter.

Together, he and Bruno Hatfield eliminated the bodies of the vampire’s victims before they turned. Fledgling vampires without a master presented a deadly risk that had to be dealt with.

A newly made vampire possessed an irrepressible need to feed. The creature possessed no conscience, only a single-minded craving for blood. One among thousands would be able to repress the instinctual desire to drink until their victim’s heart ceased beating. The rare exceptional among them could manage the uncontrollable thirst alone.

Through research, the Vampire Council discovered an elusive enzyme contained within the blood that allowed a fledgling to overcome their hunger. Their studies suggested that individuals with psychic abilities could also master the uncontrollable drive. Too few fell in those categories, causing him to have to destroy scores of bodies left behind by the vampire.

Marc regularly received updates from the hunter, who returned empty-handed time after time. At both their failures, the Vampire Council established a bounty on the rogue’s head so large, it would attract freelance hunters. Chicago would soon be overrun by vampires. These creatures didn’t play well together.

Bruno had told him about the unusual New Mexico town. The enchanting hamlet immediately welcomed him. The dragon shifter sheriff, aware of his background, sometimes used him as a deputy to eliminate danger that threatened Magic. The new role brought purpose back into his life.

Evening, his next-door neighbor called out as he walked the fifty yards between their homes. Billings Montana, a troll who settled in Magic a month after he arrived, brought another element