Bullets and Blood
Chapter 1
Nix parked his bike in the shade out the front of the shop and chained it up. While people were friendly, it was a tourist town, and anything that wasn’t bolted down was likely to get pinched. Given that he’d been cutting every corner to get by for the last six months, he didn’t want to lose his only means of transport.
What he’d give to get his hands on his seven-figure bank account, but it would be watched. Like everything else he’d once owned or even brushed against. The Orlans would be watching and waiting for him to make a mistake. They’d be searching for him. He glanced around, but there was no one from his past trying to drag him back into the shadows.
The coastal town in the southwest was a world away from the streets of Melbourne, and about as far as he could get without leaving the country—which he couldn’t because no doubt his passport had been flagged, and he didn’t have the friends, funds, or favors to get a fake one made up. He’d run out of favors.
The last one he’d had was used getting to Whispering River.
And he didn’t regret it one bit.
He stepped into the butcher shop. “Hey, Frank. What’s the cheapest cut of meat you got here today?”
“You’ll have to cook it all day to make it edible.”
“We both know your meat is never that tough.” And he had no plans to cook it. He’d eat it raw and enjoy every bite. He liked his steak still mooing. Actually, he much preferred it in human form still dancing at a nightclub, but things like that left traces that could be followed even if he did ensorcell his victim and show them a good time.
He shouldn’t have bitten that drunk man three months ago in Kalgoorlie, but he’d been desperate for actual human blood. He’d taken the man’s clothes too and what had been left in his wallet.
The life of bespoke suits and fancy cars was all but a memory. The smell of gun smoke and too much vampire blood soaking into carpet and catching in the grooves of wood flooring wasn’t. It was a nightmare that whispered he’d be next every time he closed his eyes.
“Kilo?” Frank knew his order.
“Yep.”
“You know, you’d be better with mince. Cheaper.”
He didn’t like the texture of mince in his mouth, and since he was already limited in what he could eat, he wasn’t downgrading further. He smiled and lied, “I have a slow cooked curry planned.”
The words slid easily off his lips as he held Frank’s gaze and gave him a mental nudge. It wouldn’t hurt Frank, but too many questions set Nix’s fangs on edge. Frank nodded and got on with the order. If anyone noticed the brief glint in Nix’s eyes, they’d blame the sun or their imagination.
People like him didn’t exist.
And that was just the way Nixon Hadley, last surviving son of the Hadley family of vampires, liked it.
He paid and put his sunglasses on before leaving the shop. The sun was far harsher in the west than it was back home. He’d learned that the hard way. Carefully, he put the lump of beef into his backpack, already looking forward to bloody beef and a glass of red wine acquired from the winery where he worked.
A man crossing the road caught his eye, and he let himself linger, appraising the man and the way he filled out a T-shirt. A tourist. They were always tourists. And for a moment, Nix was tempted to forget about the beef and pursue some fresh meat. He could have fun without biting. The man glanced at him and smiled.
Nix smiled back, but he wouldn’t let himself play those games.
For a start, he couldn’t be bothered with conversation, nor could he be bothered with encorselling—it was fine to do while biting so the human forgot, but he had some standards and wanted a willing lover, not a tricked one. At the end of the day, he was on borrowed time, and he didn’t feel like wasting it on something that wasn’t a sure thing.
Even those sure things lead to trouble—he’d fled Darwin for that very reason. The Orlans had almost caught him because he’d gotten too comfortable with the humans.
He unlocked his bike and paused. The slightest freeze as he sensed another predator. He glanced up, sure he’d felt the brush of another vampire. However, the sensation was gone just as fast.
So was the tourist.
Nix shuddered, and even though the heat of the sun made him sweat in his long sleeves and cap, he couldn’t stop the cold dread from swelling in his gut.
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