Clan Novel Ventrue: Book 5 of The Clan Novel Saga by Gherbod Fleming

Author:Gherbod Fleming [Fleming, Gherbod]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: vampires, horror
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2019-03-04T07:00:00+00:00

Lox pulled at the lead constantly, but Terrence held him back. There’s no reason for it to have come to this, Terrence thought. No reason for us to have to track this bozo across the city. But Sonny had bungled his job. Terrence had been surprised when Euroboy gunned down Sonny, but not too upset. Sonny was an ass. He deserved whatever he got. Apparently Blaine had anticipated something like this happening. That’s why Terrence and Lox were there.

Even holding back Lox, Terrence was outpacing Jammer. In stopping the limo, the horned monstrosity seemed to have busted a knee, and without Bolon or Vykos or—God forbid—the Little Tailor around, there was no one to fix it .Jeez. Terrence shuddered just thinking of those high-octane Tzimisce. He was just as glad that they weren’t there. Sure they were clanmates and all, but they creeped the hell out of him.

Let Jammer limp, Terrence thought. The big idiot should’ve known better than to use himself as a human—relatively speaking—roadblock. But, hey, you tell him to stop a car, he stops the car. After all, Blaine didn’t pick Jammer for his manners, savvy, or conversational skills.

Lox jerked more energetically at his lead.

“Stop your grunting, you stupid idget.” Terrence gave the creature a swift kick in one of its malformed, canine legs. Lox had been a friend, a fellow Tzimisce, before an egregious foul-up had led Vykos to turn him into the slavering bloodhound-of-a-thing he was now. Easy come, easy go, thought Terrence. Compared to some who pissed off Vykos, Lox had gotten off light.

Lox’s agitation meant that the trail was getting fresher. Euroboy was slowing down. Running out of steam, Terrence thought. Maybe Sonny had pegged him a few times before he bought the farm. Of course, Sonny probably wasn’t mangled beyond repair—if Blaine thought that some screw-up Lasombra was worth the trouble. Terrence wouldn’t bet on Sonny’s chances.

He wouldn’t bet on Euroboy’s chances either. Jammer was almost caught up now. “Come on, you stupid, horny bastard,” Terrence called, and then let Lox lead the way again. The bloodhound tugged at the leather straps. He sniffed back and forth along the trail so energetically that he set his testicles swinging side to side.

Their prey’s course veered left of the upcoming park, to Terrence’s surprise. Figured we’d find him curled up under a bush calling for daddy. Ahead were some of the city’s docks, but that wasn’t going to save Euroboy. He couldn’t hide behind the smell of water and diesel, or the sound of cranes and forklifts. Not for long. Lox would sniff him out.

Terrence didn’t bother with trying to conceal himself. He looked fairly normal, and Lox could be mistaken for some kind of big fucking dog. And if anybody wanted to stop Jammer and ask him why he was so ugly, they were welcome to it. Mostly, Terrence didn’t care who saw him. This was a Camarilla city. If he stirred up a little trouble for the limp-wristed Ventrue prince to cover up, that was just hunky-damn-dory.

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