Darklands: a vampire's tale by Donna Burgess

Author:Donna Burgess
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: occult, eric northman, world war ii, gay, dracula, paranormal romance, violence, vampire, dark fantasy, paranormal, true blood, supernatural, gore, sookie, dark urban fantasy, urban fantasy
Publisher: Donna Burgess

chapter thirty

Michael was gone, and he had taken the gun with him. Of course, it was indeed best for both of them. Kasper sympathized for him—he really did. He knew what it was to lose a woman and did not want to kill him because of it. Maybe his drunken tirade had scared the doctor enough for him to scurry back to whatever little pissant burg he had come from.

No. Not likely. The man was afraid, but he was also determined.

Things with him were not finished. Michael loved the woman, and that was something easy to see, not a random notion picked up from delving into the doctor’s head. He would protect her, even if it killed him. In the process, he would likely succumb to the woman’s seduction, even if she was only using him for blood. They would meet again. And it would be ugly.

But now, Kasper’s task was to remove a vermin called Alexander from the world. Kasper had heard that his kind were known as rogues. It was a title he quite enjoyed, and it fit him well. He fed on others of his kind, rather than humans.

This night, he feigned innocence and told Alexander he didn’t know how he had gotten there. He needed money. He didn’t know how to hunt. He had been changed, and then abandoned. Just like a child, he said, to which Alexander replied ‘poor, poor thing’ and licked his lips like the big bad wolf.

Kasper removed his coat and the gun together, careful to keep the gun concealed. He placed it on the floor within easy reach and then sat on the ratty hotel bedspread, pretending nervousness.

Alexander opened a bottle of Amstel and passed it to him.

Drawing this vampire’s interest had been easier than Kasper had anticipated. Only a shy nod, and within the hour, they were in this dank, smelly hotel room.

Tonight, Kasper went by the name Quincy, the ally of Professor Van Helsing in Bram Stoker’s novel. Often, he chose from the names of those characters as his alias. Jonathan, as in Harker, or Abraham as in Van Helsing, the vampire hunter himself. Nobody read anymore. Not the younger ones, anyway. They would never catch on. Perhaps, if he claimed to go by “Buffy,” it might give at least one of the fools a sporting chance. Acting came into play quite often. Plus, Kasper could blend in with the others, since none of them, aside from that bastard Devin, knew what he looked like.

Alexander was a tall, thin fellow. He had short hair streaked with burgundy, and his face was smooth, though he was not as young as Kasper had originally thought when he had spotted him in the tavern earlier. He was pretty and androgynous in the same feral way that most of the younger blood-drinkers seemed to be. He sat down on the bed beside Kasper.

“Poor, poor Quincy,” he said again.

Kasper’s skin crawled at his touch. He should have just killed him as soon as they were inside the door.

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