A Game Of Blood (epub) (Vampire) by Julie Ann Dawson

Author:Julie Ann Dawson [Dawson, Julie Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bards and Sages Publishing
Published: 2012-02-28T03:00:00+00:00

Chapter V

Mitch looked at his watch and shook his head. Barely 6 pm and it was already dark. He hated the winter more and more. It used to just be the snow and the subsequent traffic jams it caused that made him hate winter. But these nights his mind turned to other reasons, such as the extended feeding opportunities long nights granted to vampires.

He had no idea how many vampires might be stalking the night in his city. He suspected that there had to be more that Hawthorne. Trimble had been in the area for decades without anyone realizing it. How many others were there? Vampires didn’t need to kill to survive. Assuming they were careful, the city might be home to…dozens? Hundreds? Everyone Mitch encountered at night was a potential vampire in his eyes. And everyone he encountered during the day was a potential thrall.

He placed the wreath on Rachel’s grave and sat on the hard cold ground next to her tombstone. There were still patches of snow packed around some of the stones from the last storm. He had to dig the snow away from Cameron’s stone to place the wreath, but Rachel’s had already been cleared. Her mother came here once a week to tend to it, the groundskeeper had told him. He had remembered her distinctly, because she had shown up right after the first big snow of the season to clear the grave. “Rachel hates snow,” she had said as she desperately worked to clear the snow from her daughter’s grave even as it kept falling. It had been quite the chore to convince her that salting a grave was not a good idea. It wouldn’t do much to stop the snow from building up, and would keep the grass from growing over the spot.

Hawthorne hadn’t contacted him since he made his “offer,” unless he counted the fruit basket and bottle of wine the vampire had sent to his house Christmas morning. In a strangely perverse way, Hawthorne had been a positive change in Mitch’s life. His best friend’s daughter was going to Harvard, on a full scholarship. His marriage ended, but much more amicably that it would have without Hawthorne’s interference. At least Sylvia was happy and fulfilled and, most importantly, cancer-free. And Mitch had a new love, Andrea, who stirred feelings in him he hadn’t felt in years.

He placed a hand on the tombstone. The price for all of it had been far too high.

“You’ll catch a death of cold, son.” Mitch looked up to see the priest standing a few feet away from him. His hands were behind his back, and he leaned forward slightly as if to get a better look at Mitch in the dim moonlight. He relaxed his shoulders a bit and smiled. “Ah, mourning. I’m sorry. From a distance I couldn’t tell.”

“Tell what, Father?” asked Mitch as he stood up, dusting the dirt from his pants.

“Whether you were a mourner or an unfortunate homeless using the cemetery as a quiet place to get drunk.

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