Night's Cold Kiss (10 page)

He took a step toward the crates but the dreniac threw an empty soda can over to the far side of the room. It clattered loudly and the boy turned his head toward the noise. He seemed torn—Antoinette knew from experience his instincts were telling him to follow the scent. He ignored them and turned toward the sound. The dreniac launched from above, landing on his back. She drove her head forward and sunk her fangs into his shoulder. The boy screamed—a damp patch had formed in his jeans near the groin and a crimson stain spread across his white T-shirt.

The watching class gasped in unison. Antoinette searched the arena for the guardians to intercede before the dreniac killed him, but there didn’t seem to be any—the boy was alone. She gripped the arms of the seat and started to rise but Lucian’s hand stilled her.

Again the dreniac released him and disappeared. Now the boy was really afraid, the bokken shook visibly in his hand, but his fear had passed straight to terror.

His eyes darted left and right and after every step he’d turn and check behind. Sweat beaded on his upper lip and his forehead, blood seeped into his shirt and Antoinette knew he was lost. Next time the dreniac attacked, the boy would be dead. She had to stop it.

Before she could move the dreniac appeared to his right, disarmed him and bent his head to expose his throat. He was so frozen in his fear he didn’t even try to fight back. Antoinette wrenched her arm away, looking for a way to get into the arena. Then the lights came up. The dreniac leaned forward—Antoinette placed both hands on the observation glass, helpless.

The female dreniac pushed back the hood, the typical Necrodrenia twitchiness gone, and she smoothed her short blond hair as she glanced up at the students above and waved. Instead of opening the boy’s throat, she ripped away his shirt and licked his wounds, sealing them. A cheer went up among the students.

The two figures left the arena below and a minute later only the female joined the rest of the class in the gallery area.

“Is he okay?” asked the girl with the hoop earrings.

“He’ll be fine, his wounds have already healed.” The female turned to the rest of the class. “But it could’ve been much worse if this was more than an exercise. What did we learn from today?” she asked the class. “Can you tell me what Mark did wrong?”

Hands went up quickly and students started calling out their answers to their teacher.

“He was overconfident,” one student said.

“Very good,” replied the teacher, “but what else?”

A heated discussion started among the students, and the teacher moderated where required.

“I thought she was a real dreniac,” Antoinette whispered to Lucian.

He leaned closer. “She’s good isn’t she?”

“Yes—but—the dreniac scent?” Antoinette eyed the woman. “Even now, she still smells like one.”

“Some of my finest work.” He smiled and looked at the teacher. “Try again and tell me what you really smell.”

She closed her eyes and drew in the heavy scent of Necrodrenia. “It has a slight metallic undertone, almost…like ozone.”

“Most humans don’t pick that up but it becomes more apparent with time. You’ve got a really good nose,” Lucian said. “I manufactured the false scent by accident in the lab, as a byproduct of an experiment I was doing with Aeternus blood. The odor was so close that she,” he nodded his head in the direction of the pretend-dreniac-come-teacher, “asked if she could use it to make her training exercises more realistic. I agreed. She’s one of the best teachers we’ve had here since—well, a very long time.”

“He let his temper get the better of him,” one of the students yelled out above the rest, drawing Antoinette’s attention back to the discussion going on. “Excellent,” the teacher said. “But what else should he have done? What is a Venator’s most valuable defense mechanism?”

The students muttered and mumbled, blank looks on their faces.

“His instincts,” Antoinette whispered under her breath, willing one of the kids to say it.

The teacher’s head swiveled in Antoinette’s direction. “That’s right—could you repeat that for the class?”

Antoinette sank into her seat until Lucian nudged her with his elbow.

She leaned forward and clasped her hands together as eager faces stared in her direction. “The boy should’ve listened more carefully to his instincts and not let his head overrule what his gut was telling him.”

“Correct.” The teacher’s face broke into a wide smile and she turned to the rest of the class. “Always trust your instincts! They’re your natural defense against danger, so use
them. In today’s society, most humans are taught to ignore their instincts—you must unlearn this now.”

Antoinette sat back and the Aeternus teacher pierced her with a sharp, probing gaze. “And let’s all thank our mystery guest for her insightful answer.”

As the polite clapping started, Lucian stood with flourish. “Ladies and Gentlemen—Ms. Antoinette Petrescu.”

An excited buzz rose from the students.

“This is a special treat,” the teacher said, turning a smile on Antoinette. “Maybe we can get Miss Petrescu to give us the benefit of her experience.”

The class clapped and cheered enthusiastically. Antoinette held out her hands and shook her head, trying to beg off.

Lucian grinned and leaned forward. “Go on—they’ll learn so much from you, even if it’s nothing more than how difficult a journey it can be.”

“I have a feeling I’ve just been set up,” she said.

“I’m sorry.” His brow creased with worry. “I didn’t think you’d mind—we can leave.”

The students seemed so excited, and Lucian so contrite, how could she possibly say no?

She sighed. “Okay.”

Cheers and whistles erupted from the students as Antoinette rose to join the group. She shook hands with the teacher. “Sorry for taking over your class.”

The teacher smiled. “It’s my pleasure, it’s not often my kids get a chance to learn from someone of your caliber.”

“What would you like to know?” Antoinette asked the fresh, beaming faces. She was used to teaching a class or two, but she usually took the younger ones.

The teacher opened the discussion. “What was the most important lesson you learned after you left the Academy?”

“That I was nowhere near as prepared as I thought I was when it came to the reality of hunting.”

“But you were the highest-scoring graduating student in the last century,” a dark-eyed girl in the front row said.

“Yes, but in the real world you must rely on only yourself. There are no teachers to keep you safe, no guardians to step in when a dreniac gets difficult. The best way to go in is armed with as much knowledge about your target as you can possibly get. Look for their weaknesses and exploit them to your advantage. Always remember they are stronger, faster, and more ready to kill than you are, so any advantage you have can tilt the balance in your favor.”

A kid in front leaned forward, bright glittery eyes zoning with intensity on her face. Something about the kid was off. “How many dreniac excisions have you performed in your career?”

“Over a hundred and forty.”

His gaze wandered down to her chest and then back to her face, his sly grin putting her on guard. He was definitely trouble.

“Do you get to choose your own missions now?” a girl at the back asked.

“Yes. But during my probation period I was assigned to missions that suited my experience and I often had an observer along. Still there’s little leeway for error—one mistake and you’re dead. You all know the statistics—over one-third of you will not pass training. For those of you that do, over half of you will either quit or die within the first probationary year. This is a dangerous business. Only the best become career Venators.”

“Have you ever thought of taking on another Venator as a hunting partner?” the love-struck girl with the hoop earrings asked. “Wouldn’t two be better than one?”

“Unfortunately, not always. My brother is…was my tech, but I hunted alone. Besides the fact I don’t play well with others, it’s easy to get a partner or yourself killed in a double attack. Don’t get me wrong, there are some very successful hunting teams out there. It’s just not for me.”

“I heard your probation was much shorter than normal?” the next kid asked.

“Yes—nine months. By that time I had proven my skills enough for them to start letting me choose my own missions, but I had to work really hard for it.”

A collective murmur rippled through the kids. They seemed impressed.

The teacher stepped forward raising her hands. “The usual probation period is two years—only under exceptional circumstances is it any shorter.”

“How many did you kill during your probation?” the creepy kid asked.

She could feel him mentally undressing her and swallowed a rather snarky response. No use dropping to his level.

“As many as I was assigned,” she replied.

He knew he was getting to her. His tongue darted over his lips and his grin deepened. “I hear some Venators like to fuck after a kill, do you?”

She kept her expression neutral, but her fingernails bit into her palms. Antoinette tried not to react to his obvious goading, partly because it was true. Sometimes, she needed to reaffirm her humanity with sex after a hunt was done, but always with some random bar pickup she wouldn’t have to explain things to. As she tried to formulate an answer Lucian appeared at her side, taking her elbow.

“I think that’s enough for today.” Then he leaned toward the creepy kid and his tone lowered. “And that was your last chance—you’re out.”

“You can’t kick me out, you’re not even a teacher,” the boy sneered.

“No—but I’m on the board. I know you’re already on probation and you’ve been warned several times. The board will back me on this.”

The boy jumped to his feet and came nose to nose with Lucian, neither one backing down. Finally, the student broke off, snorting his contempt as he made his way to the exit.

“Please thank Ms. Petrescu for her time.” The teacher’s voice was just as tightly controlled as Lucian’s had been.

The rest of the students rose and made their way to the
exit after him, talking in hushed tones, throwing glances over their shoulders at Lucian as they left.

“I appreciate you giving the class your time,” the teacher said. “But I’m so sorry about that.” She squeezed Antoinette’s hand in both of hers then she followed her students.

Antoinette sucked air back into her lungs and let out a shaky breath. “There’s something really wrong with that boy—he’ll never have the discipline to be a Venator.”

“I know. We’ve known for a while now but needed just one more demerit to get rid of him.” Lucian sounded a little sorry, but then he brightened. “Let me make it up to you. Are you staying nearby?”

She nodded.

“Good, I’ll buy you dinner.”

Eventually it always came to this, men. She waved him off. “You don’t have to do that, I’ve dealt with worse before.”

“Please! It’s the least I can do. Besides, I know a really wonderful little Italian restaurant.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Just when she was really starting to enjoy his company.

Lucian straightened. “Oh—hang on. I don’t mean that kind of dinner. All innocent, I promise. I just don’t often get to have dinner with someone famous. Please. I promise to be the perfect gentleman.”

Her hands relaxed and she gave him what she hoped looked like a smile. “All right then, that’d be nice.”

After a few red wines and some incredible pasta Lucian walked Antoinette along the almost empty streets back to her hotel. She felt relaxed for the first time in days. Thanks to Lucian. He’d been true to his word, no passes, not even flirting.

He was smart, funny, and had a way of instantly putting her at ease. She didn’t feel like a fish out of water around him and he seemed to genuinely enjoy her company instead of just looking for a way into her pants.

“So—did you like Gino’s?” he asked.

“Yes, very m—” A rough hand closed over her mouth from behind and a cold sharpness pressed against the side of her throat.

“Don’t scream or your boyfriend gets a bullet in the ribs,” a harsh voice growled in her ear.

Antoinette chanced a sideways glance. Lucian was flanked by two hooded figures, both wearing sunglasses. One held a gun to Lucian’s side. She sensed more behind them and inwardly cursed. She’d been so lulled by the dinner and her companion she’d let her guard down. But she needed to assess the situation before acting or she may get Lucian hurt…or worse.

“Back this way,” said the one squeezing tight on her upper arm. There was something familiar about him but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

They were led back to a darkened alley. Obviously the men had been waiting there for potential victims.

The last thing she needed to do now was panic or lose her temper. This situation called for a cool head and clear thinking.

The alley hooked around to the right so they couldn’t be seen from the main street. Lights hung on the walls of the flanking buildings, but most were either broken or flickering dangerously close to blowing. Debris littered the alley and it stank of stale booze and urine, a home away from home for a Venator.

The men whispered among themselves, but Antoinette couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“My wallet is in my coat pocket,” Lucian said. “You can take it all, just let us go.”

Antoinette glanced his way, his voice had a slight tremor but he showed no outward signs of fear. The hooded figure to his right laughed, pressing the gun harder against Lucian’s ribs. However the gunman had a slipshod grip on the weapon and she’d easily be able to disarm him if their positions were reversed.

There were five of them, their faces obscured by either sunglasses or ski masks under hooded jackets.

“Come on dude, show us what she’s got. Let’s see her tits,” one of the other attackers said.

The masked mugger pinned her against a dirty wall and ripped open her jacket with one hand. Underneath she wore a silk shirt over a loose skirt. He grabbed her left breast roughly with his knife hand, the handle bit into her flesh and she tried not to flinch away.

“Hey!” Lucian yelled as he lurched forward and was rewarded with a punch to the mouth then another to the gut. He doubled over, spitting out blood, which was dark in the dim light.

“C’mon, dude, are we gonna do this or what?” the gunman said.

One of the men became twitchy, moving rapidly from one foot to the other, giggling almost hysterically. She tried to move but was spun around and shoved harder against the wall face-first. The brickwork bit into her cheek as her jacket was yanked roughly off her back.

A scuffle broke out behind her and was silenced by two loud meaty thumps. Her attacker turned her back around to face him and she took the opportunity to glance at Lucian. He hung slumped between two men; one of them lifted his head by a fist full of hair at the crown. A dark trickle ran from Lucian’s right brow down his cheek. They let go and his head lolled forward again.

A sneering masked face blocked Lucian from her view and she raised her eyes to meet his. There was something familiar about those eyes. He lowered the knife, bringing it level with her belly, then began to cut the buttons from her shirt one at a time.

“Be nice or we’ll slit your throat before that stuck-up professor,” his low voice growled in her ear. “Alive or dead—you choose. Makes no difference to me what you are when I fuck you.”