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  Tainted Blood

  Sara Hubbard

  TAINTED BLOOD

  Copyright © 2018 by Sara Hubbard

  Content editing and proofreading: The Red Pen Coach

  Line Editing: Red Adept Publishing

  ISBN eBook: 9781988212227

  ISBN Print: 9781988212258

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All company and product names are trademarks or registered trademarks of their respective holders. Their use does not imply affiliation with or endorsement by them.

  The following novel contains strong language and sexual situations. It is recommended for adult readers.

  Discover other titles by Sara Hubbard at www.sara-hubbard.com

  Sign up for Sara’s mailing list to be notified about new releases and to receive bonus content: http://eepurl.com/NDwi5

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Also by Sara Hubbard

  About the Author

  1

  Lost in my novel, I flip the page, desperate to know if the hero, Dirk Fountain, is about to die. His vengeful asshole of a brother smiles wickedly as he holds the edge of a jewel-edged dagger to Dirk’s throat.

  My older sister, Kara, clears her throat. When I look up at her, she stands in front of the Bargain Books table in the book store we inherited from our parents. She grins and shakes her head at me, her warm brown eyes playful. “Time to close up, Nerd.”

  Nerd. She’s called me that since our parents adopted me at age five. Even back then, books were my escape from a world where I didn’t feel wanted. Now, I read fantasy novels to escape the mundane. Living in a small city in Nova Scotia and spending most of my days working in the bookstore can be monotonous. And I suppose living through my books helps me forget about my parents, too. Thinking of them now, if only for a moment, I feel the twist of a knife in my heart.

  “Sure thing.” I slide a yellow sticky note into the book to mark my page and snap it shut. I used to buy bookmarks, real fancy ones with tassels or ones made of pewter, but I always lost them, so now I use anything in my line of sight, and there’s always a stack of sticky notes by our vintage cash register.

  Using a calculator, I tally up the sales. While the register is pretty and a conversation piece, it’s not overly functional. Sales today were abysmal, but that’s been par for the course these last few months.

  It’s almost midnight, and a beam of moonlight streams in through the wall of windows, making the dark wood take on a golden hue. Kara thought keeping our bookstore open until midnight five nights a week would be a way to increase revenue, but honestly, the only thing we’re doing is working more hours to make the same pitiful amount of money.

  “I’ll get the door, Em.” Her heels click on the floor as she approaches it. She slides the deadbolt across and turns the sign to “closed.”

  I straighten, going through the closing list in my mind.

  “Can you get the trash?” she adds. “We can do the floors in the morning.”

  “Got it.” I pull the garbage bin out from under the counter and collect the ends of the bag before tying them in a knot. I debate broaching the topic of the store hours again. She’s the oldest, and Mom and Dad left her in charge. Because of those two things, she refuses to listen to my opinion where the store is concerned. This shop was Mom and Dad’s baby. It did great fifteen years ago, but over the years as eBooks became popular, it became harder and harder to keep the place afloat. We’d never sell Heroes and Heroines because of what it meant to Mom and Dad, but I can’t say working here forever is my dream.

  But becoming Hermione from Harry Potter isn’t a reasonable goal, or so I’m told.

  “Don’t forget the bag in the bathroom,” she yells from behind me as I push through the door to the back.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say with a hint of sarcasm.

  “Hey, Emily?”

  I turn to face her.

  “The store will be just fine.”

  I force a smile back at her, but I’m not sure if her words were meant to reassure her or me. “Of course it will.” I even sound convincing.

  There isn’t much trash in the back, so I leave the few pieces of paper where they are. I peek in the bathroom and grab that one, since it’s full. At the thick metal storm door at the rear of the building, I slip my feet out of my canvas sneakers and shove them in my rubber boots before heading out to the alleyway. Torrential rain beat so hard on the roof earlier that I thought it would come through the ceiling. But it’s only a drizzle now. I unthread the chains and slide the deadbolt up to free the door. The door almost slams shut behind me before I jut out my hand and push it back open to grab the ‘Wet Floor’ sign to keep it propped open. I’ve been locked out too many times to count, and I don’t like to linger in the alleyway. Three buildings border it, and the only exit is a narrow passage through locked wrought-iron gates. The alley gives me the creeps, especially at night.

  I glance both ways, my muscles tight, but the coast looks clear. No rats. The rain covers my clothes and face in a fine mist. The moon is out and full above me, shining down with a faint ring of red around its perimeter. I glance up at it, and the drizzle catches in my lashes. “Blood on the moon.” I heard that phrase somewhere before. What a romantic way to describe a red-rimmed moon.

  I trudge forward to the garbage bin, my feet sloshing in the puddles. A faint rattle stills me. The hair on my back and neck stand on end and my heartbeat quickens. I slow my pace and look around at the few faint lights in the windows of condos or apartments above. I heave a breath and try to shake off my paranoia. It’s likely just a cat, though I imagine a serial killer, a stalker, and monsters that go bump in the night. A shiver crawls all over my body. I have too much imagination for my own good, and my books certainly don’t help. Slowly, I reach for the bin’s lid, but stall when I hear a muffled scream. That was definitely not my imagination. Quickly, I crouch so I’m eye level with the bin. I don’t want to know what made that sound, but I can’t look away either. Adrenaline kicks in, sending jolts of electricity through me. Everything in me screams run, but I don’t do that. If someone is screaming, they’re in danger, and what kind of person would I be to run away? I probably won’t be much help, though. I weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet.

  I slide my hand in my back pocket and reach for my phone, but the damn thing is already dead. Shit. I forgot to charge it earlier. I could run inside, grab the phone and call 911, but by the time help comes, someone could be seriously injured—maybe dead.

  What would Hermione do? She wouldn’t run for the hills; that’s for sure.

  I creep forward, edging my way around the bin. The
alley is in shadows, and my heart is pumping so loudly I worry it’ll give me away. I stop dead in my tracks as I look down the other end of the alleyway. About forty feet away, in the shadows to the left of the gates, red eyes stare back at me, and I go weak in the knees. I drop the bags and gasp. A light flickers, and I see a shockingly handsome man leaned over a woman on the ground. His haunting red eyes blaze as they train on me. He hisses, and I swear I see fangs. Fangs! My mouth drops open. I couldn’t manage a scream if I tried. The light flickers again, off. When it comes back on, he’s gone. Oh holy shit! Where is he? I can’t move. I’m rooted to the wet concrete. The girl on the ground stares at me, lifeless, her eyes open and unblinking.

  I spin around and dart for the door, the urge to flee overshadowing all of my other emotions. But I loathe myself the second my feet starting slapping against the pavement. I could do CPR, help save her life, but I’m too scared. That creature was unnatural, whatever it was, with blood-red eyes. A demon? A monster? A vampire? Impossible. They’re not real! They can’t be. But I can’t stick around to find out and risk getting myself killed. Kara and I have lost so much, and I don’t know if she’d recover from losing me, too.

  I get maybe ten feet before I’m grabbed from behind. I scream, but a hand clamps down over my mouth, and a man pulls me in tight against his rock hard chest. He’s so cold. His body temperature radiates through his clothes and mine. A shiver runs over my whole body, and my teeth chatter and vibrate against his hard, unforgiving hand. I struggle, kicking my feet and trying desperately to unlock my arms from the bear hug he has around my body. He’s too strong and trying to move him is like trying to move a mountain.

  “What have we got here?” he says in a smooth, silky tone. “A peeping Tom. It’s not nice to stare at someone while they’re eating.”

  Eating? I gulp and flail harder, but when he tightens his grip, my whole body burns and aches like bruises are already forming.

  Something whizzes past, and another monster stands in front of me. This one is smaller, with blond hair and equally red eyes. She saunters forward a step to stand inches from me. The light from the apartment above the bookstore shines down on her. She walks with grace, like a dancer, a delicate sway to her narrow hips. A demonic runway model with fangs. She’s a vampire! I know it. I just know it. Only vampires don’t exist and certainly not in Brimstone. As I look into her eyes, I wonder if this is the end, if I’ll see my Mom and Dad sooner than I imagined. Though I want that badly, I’m not ready to die—not yet—though in the weeks following their deaths, I almost wished for it.

  “She smells delicious.” The woman’s nostrils flare as she briefly closes her eyes.

  “What are you waiting for?” the man says.

  I shake my head. His hand is still firm over my lips. It tastes metallic, like blood, and I cringe at the thought of the dead’s woman’s blood on my face and as I imagine what they’re about to do to me. They won’t take me without a fight.

  He lowers his hand from my mouth, “Any last requests?”

  “I bet I taste awful?” It’s the only thing I can think of, and my squeaky voice sounds no more confident than I feel. They’re going to eat me, and I’m going to die, right here in the alleyway so rats can pick at what they leave behind.

  The blond woman chuckles darkly.

  I’m about out of breath, and I try to inhale, but his hold won’t allow for the full expansion of my lungs.

  “I like this one,” the woman says. “Maybe we should turn her.”

  “You know the rules. Not without permission.”

  Turn me? Without permission? What the hell are they talking about?

  “Hmm. Pity. Sorry, little girl.”

  The male grabs my head and forces it to the side. The woman, fangs long and deadly sharp, opens her mouth wide, and in one swift movement—that I can’t process because it happens so fast—she clamps down on my neck. Her pointed teeth puncture me. Heat and stinging pain rip through my shoulder. She takes one long pull of my blood, and a sort of euphoria overcomes me. The pain fades away. I don’t want to run. I want to stay where I am. It’s almost sensual, and I’m shocked to find myself aroused and disgusted at the same time.

  When she lets go, I want to tell her to continue, but I shake off that feeling. Whatever she’s done to me, those thoughts can’t be my own. She lets out a wail and flies backward to the back wall of the bookstore, digging her nails into the wall behind her as she hangs like a spider no less than five feet above the ground. She hisses at me, baring her fangs again.

  “Cassandra!” the male says. Then to me, he shouts, “What the fuck did you do to her?”

  The woman projectile vomits my blood all over the broken concrete and sparse gravel. A small spray hits my face, and I dry heave. The taste of acidic bile covers my tongue. The man behind me lets go and backs away, retreating into the shadows. I’m stunned and confused. I don’t know what to do or where to run. I don’t know what’s going on. My weak knees give out, and I stumble, grabbing on to a green compost bin for support.

  Seeing and believing in vampires is one thing but watching them kill and vomit on you in the same night is another. I must be dreaming. Maybe I fell earlier on the wet concrete and hit my head. When I pinch myself and wake, this will be all over. But no amount of pinching draws me from this new reality.

  The woman falls to the ground with a thud, coughing and spluttering. “What is wrong with your blood?” Her pale white face grows paler, almost gray.

  I can’t say a word, can’t move.

  The other vampire whooshes over to her, bending down to lift her up and into his arms. He glares at me, his eyes blazing like molten lava before he bends at the knees and jumps over the roof of the bookstore. They disappear into the night, leaving me in the eerily quiet and dark alleyway.

  “What the hell just happened?” I say out loud between ragged breaths. Warm liquid travels down the length of my neck, reminding me that this can’t possibly be a dream. A monster drank from my neck, and they could come back. I break into a sprint, yanking the door open. I kick the “Wet Floor” sign away and pull the door shut before dead-bolting it. Leaning against it, I heave loud, shaky breaths and process the last few unbelievable moments. I have no idea what to do with the memory or how to respond. I’m in this exact same position when Kara finds me. It could be seconds, minutes, or hours later. All I know is if my heart doesn’t slow down, I could very well go into cardiac arrest.

  “Emily?”

  I slide down the length of the cold metal door and stare up at her in horror. “C-Call the cops,” I manage with a stutter.

  Her eyes go wide as she rushes over to me. She takes my head between her hands and examines me. When her eyes reach my neck, she lets out a gasp. “Oh, my God! What happened?”

  I open my mouth to speak, but the words in my head sound too crazy. A monster with red eyes and fangs attacked me? She’ll think I’m crazy. What happened to me doesn’t make sense. I feel crazy for even thinking about it and crazier for believing what I saw was real. Maybe I dreamed it. But I know the truth. I just can’t speak it.

  “It was…an animal,” I say quickly. “A great, big animal. It jumped out from the shadows and bit my neck…after it killed someone. She’s by the gates.” My words come out breathlessly.

  I crawl forward to sit on the bench by the door. Kara frowns at me, completely disbelieving, and I raise my hand to grip her as she passes me to go to the door.

  “Don’t go out there!”

  Kara ignores me, replaying a foolish scene from every horror movie ever made. She removes my hand and grabs an umbrella hanging on one of the hooks by the door. With it gripped tightly in both hands, she ventures outside. I stumble to my feet, a little dizzy from the loss of blood, but I focus hard and force myself to follow. I can’t let her go alone. I won’t lose her, too. I follow her, my hand tight around her bicep. As a kid, I was afraid of the dark, and she’d always sit with me in the pitch black, holding my hand until the fear passe
d. She’s always been fearless. Though I’ve tried to emulate her, I’ve never felt as strong as she is. It’s one of the things I love most about her and the reason why, after my adoptive parents died, I knew we’d be strong enough to get though their deaths.

  We take one careful step at a time. The alcove light is on, and it’s steady. We pass the garbage bin, and I squint to see through the dark shadows in the corners.

  “Where is she?” Kara asks me quietly.

  I stare straight ahead, confused. There is no body. I look up and around, to the tips of the buildings, searching for the monsters, but I see nothing. Feeling braver with the need to be proven right, I step around her and quicken my pace, stopping where the girl should be. I spin around and bend at the knee to touch the ground. Nothing. I wipe my hand over the ground with my left hand. My finger comes back clean and dry.

  “She was here,” I say softly, not fully trusting myself. “I swear she was here.”

  Kara bends down beside me. She frowns so thoroughly, her face ages. She’s only twenty-seven, but right now, she looks the way my mother did.

  “You need to stop reading ghost stories, okay?”

  “Kara, you have to believe me! She was here, and she was deader than a doornail. How do you explain the blood on my neck? Hmm?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m not lying. I saw something feeding on her, and then it attacked me.”

  “Feeding on her?” She stares at me with a single eyebrow raised, and I know what she’s thinking. She’s considering taking me to the hospital for a psych evaluation.

  I point to my neck. “I didn’t do this to myself!”