Last in Line Read online

  “Ian,” she murmured. Turning toward Brieloff, she rose slowly to meet him and his guest.

  “No, Selma, not Ian,” Brieloff rushed to explain. “Baron is the last of his line, which appears to be a culmination of his entire line. I’m sorry to distress you so.” He reached out to offer comfort.

  She nodded and stared at Baron.

  He remained still, uncomfortable with the attention, and unsure how to avoid it.

  “I know it can’t be Ian, but I sense him, Brieloff. I smell him.” She walked over to Baron. “I see him in you,” she whispered, her fingertips trailing along his arm.

  Goosebumps exploded across his flesh.

  “You’re blushing. Do you have his memories as well?” she asked.

  Baron turned aside, feeling like an interloper as intimate memories of her panting flashed before his lids. His eyes latched onto the patterns of the blue, gold, and crimson mosaic in the marble floor, while he attempted to beat back the heat threatening to choke him at her words. He coughed to cover his embarrassment.

  “I’m, I’m not sure yet. This change happened recently, and I’m feeling my way.” Baron hoped the awkward pat on her arm put her at ease. That flash of memory of her and his lineman rose so fast and clear; he couldn’t help but stare at her and wonder at her flexibility. In contrast to his linemen, Baron’s sexual experience was indeed limited, and never extended to anyone outside his race. He wasn’t sure what Selma was, but she wasn’t Vemdoris or human.

  “We have a dilemma,” Brieloff said, bringing her attention to the purpose of their visit.

  Baron was happy to have the interest removed from him. Then Brieloff pointed at him. “He is no longer the same. Since we had no warning, there’s no termination file in place. Also, we have no rebirth file for this transformation. What do you suggest?” he asked as she returned to her desk and slowly sat down.

  Selma owned and operated the highest rated transition firm in the world. Unlike the movies, every species could be terminated and aged. They just didn’t die from old age like humans. They transitioned, and it was a big production. Companies like Selma’s were masters at making the process smooth, from the funeral to reentry a week or month or so later. The cycle simply kept turning. She’d been doing it for centuries. Baron used her company’s services, although this was the first time he’d been in her office. They had little in common and barely spoke to each other.

  Typing some information into the computer, she looked up at Baron. He offered a tiny smile. Shaking her head, she continued typing.

  Brieloff arched a brow at him. He shrugged and sat on the sofa, stretching his legs.

  “Baron, you were only in your previous state for ten years. Have you developed any romantic liaisons or friendships with any humans who would notice you’ve gone missing?” she asked as she continued typing.

  “No, I have not.” He spoke quickly. She glanced up and over at him.

  “Please stand and move to the spot next to the desk.”

  He did as requested.

  “Look up at the dot above my head, please. Thank you. Now, can you smile?” He smiled, her hand faltered while he waited. “Um, okay. Now do you have any identifying marks that you didn’t have before?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  She waited. “Can I see it? And then I’ll need to record it.” Nodding, he pulled the t-shirt off and threw it to the chair. Lifting his arm, he pointed to the mark on his side.

  “Selma.” He looked at her after a moment. “Selma, it’s right here.” He pointed with his other hand. “Have you recorded it yet?” His face and throat heated. A red tinge coated his chest. He hated being the object of stares.

  “Um, yes.” She smacked her lips and peered closer at the spirals and odd markings. “That’s unfamiliar, what is it?”

  “It’s the Vemdoris symbol for last,” Baron answered as he moved away to get his shirt.

  “Wait,” Selma yelled, stopping him. “I... I need to record you. I mean I need to record your mark.” She watched every move he made with an unnatural light in her eyes. Like a hawk savoring its next catch. Uneasy, he glanced at Brieloff, who stared at his movements before he caught his eye. The older man nodded.

  “Selma, are we finished here?” Brieloff asked handing him his shirt. “Baron will need to keep his name. I hope that can be arranged.”

  “Yes, I’m just about done here.” Baron turned his back on the woman as he slipped into his shirt. His face blazed with discomfort from her treatment of him. Brieloff smiled at his obvious embarrassment.

  Standing, Selma walked over to Baron and handed him an envelope. “You’ve been in the system for just 10 years, so I updated all your data with your new photo and tattoo. You are good to go.” She stood close to him, staring at his fingers grasping at the envelope clasped in her hand. He tugged and she released it with a strangled sound.

  Her hand latched onto his forearm. “Baron...Baron, you look really good,” she said on a whispered sigh. “I see Ian and a few others from your line. Yours was one of the better lines you know, probably the best.” She inched closer and inhaled.

  Pulling his shoulder back, he looked down, surprised. He’d known Selma for centuries, and they’d never gone beyond a polite greeting to one another. He’d never been interested and nothing had changed. Now, his mind clicked with memories, which certainly weren’t his, of her doing things he’d never seen or heard of.

  “Th-thanks, Selma,” he stuttered, confident his face was pink. “I’ve got to get going. There are some things I need to take care of.” Peeling her hand from his arm, in a blast of speed, he made it to the door as Brieloff unsealed it. Without a backward glance, he escaped.

  “Baron,” Brieloff called out. He stopped on the other side of the door. “Baron, you can’t run every time a woman is attracted to you. Get a grip, man.” Although he spoke quietly, Baron heard the laughter underlying his tone.

  “Very funny, you knew she’d had a-a fling with Ian, didn’t you?” he countered as they reappeared on Brieloff’s veranda.

  “Yes, but truthfully it happened so long ago, I’d forgotten until she called out his name. By the way, until you discover how Icar and Brevar departed, you might want to mask your scent. You don’t want anyone thinking they’ve come back for retribution.”

  “They left willingly on a conquest of honor, there was no foul play. Sven was the last to die, he has no memory of what happened,” Baron answered quickly. His hand flew to his mouth, and his eyes widened, first in surprise, then apprehension. He gazed at Brieloff, concerned. “What the... where did that come from?”

  “It came from you. You need some time alone to get reacquainted with your line and yourself. You are our first hybrid. I trust you will keep notes so in the future we won’t be caught off guard. I’m sorry I cannot tell you more about what to expect. All I know is that this is a promise fulfilled by the One, and He is aware of what’s happening. He has not shared anything with me, my friend.”

  Nodding, Baron stretched. “You’re right. There are some strong personalities in this line, and I must get to know them. Parameters need to be put in place as we discover how to function in this new setting." He waved at his body.

  “Also, you will need to take a seat on the council.” He waved down Baron’s objection. “I know you prefer to sit on the sidelines and stay in your labs. Nevertheless, this transformation has changed everything. As the Elder of your line, and with the wisdom you carry inside, you must consider a place on the Council. Our people have need of you. When word gets out of this transition, the promise from the One fulfilled, it will strengthen our position against the opposition.”

  Brieloff paced in front of his desk, something Baron rarely saw him do. The opposition must have gained strength.

  “Also, your desires will change with the addition of your linesmen. You may no longer be content to hide in the shadows. You are no longer the same person from before and your responsibilities have changed.” He regarded his friend. “Th
ink on it, Baron.”

  Baron nodded. “Thank you, Brieloff, for all your assistance. I will do as you ask and think about everything. First, I must bring order to my house.” He bowed deeply from the waist and disappeared.

  Brieloff sat heavily in his chair. Baron would gain control of his line. The man was disciplined and logical. Even though some in his line were wild, he doubted they could influence Baron to be anyone other than who he was at his core. He wondered what Baron would say if he knew, Beeman, a crazy Hunter who’d hated and killed Ian decades ago, lived in the area. Would Ian push for revenge? His son, Cryden, also lived in the area and was just as hateful as his father had been. Rubbing his forehead, Brieloff wasn’t sure exactly how 10 personalities in one body worked and decided to tell Baron about the Hunters later.

  Tapping his desk, he shook off the morose thoughts and made notes from their conversation, placing his observations in the files. The One had chosen wisely. Baron was a genius and would have a positive impact on his line and more importantly, their race.

  Chapter 3

  Could it be more humid? Simone blew a strand of curly hair from her sweat-drenched face as she and her trainee, Carrie, stepped out the SUV. Although the general area was familiar to her, she looked in both directions for a quick neighborhood assessment. Newer model cars graced driveways, freshly painted homes with manicured lawns lined the street. Satisfied the area appeared stable, she made her notes, then touched the pepper spray in her pouch.

  Firsthand experience had taught her looks could be deceiving. She always prepared for the unexpected. Pulling out her electronic tablet with the assignment information, she filled in the blanks on the form, verified the address, and walked toward the front door. They had a full day of inspections scheduled, and she wanted to finish early so she could spend some time with her niece, Marissa. A smile curved her lips as she thought of Marissa returning home later today.

  Walking around the car, she looked at her assistant. “Go ahead and get the pictures of the street, front and rear, Carrie. I’ll let the—” She glanced down at the name on the order. “— Brown’s know we’re here. Make sure you grab the tape measure.”

  Simone walked to the door, rung the bell, and pasted her professional lets-do-this smile across her face as the door opened. She thrust her right hand toward the older man she assumed was Mr. Brown. “Good afternoon, Sir, my name is Simone Locklear. This is Carrie, and she’s assisting me today. We’re here to do the appraisal inspection on your home.”

  The man studied her for two, maybe three seconds max, then looked at Carrie and smiled. His dentures clicked together in his haste to greet the petite blond. Inwardly Simone groaned. Yep, today would be long, hot, and humid. “We’ll be starting on the outside, taking pictures, and measuring the building.”

  She waited for his response, only to have him nod without taking his eyes off Carrie’s bustline. “After we complete the exterior inspection, we’ll come inside and inspect the interior. Do you have any dogs?” Simone continued, her tone crisp.

  “No, just a couple of cats.” He looked at Carrie. “You’re not allergic to cats are you, dahling?”

  She smiled. “No sir.” Behind her sunglasses, she rolled her eyes. Carrie needed to complete a certain number of appraisals to become a Certified Appraiser. Simone didn’t care how men acted around Carrie as long as it didn’t interfere with their work. As a Certified General Appraiser, Simone specialized in commercial jobs, but today her lead residential Appraiser had called in sick and she’d covered for him.

  Thirty minutes later, they pulled away from Mr. Brown’s and headed for their next appointment. “He had to be about what—sixty or seventy? Carrie gasped around fits of laughter. “He looked older than that. Goodness, you think that’s his masturbation room?”

  “Could be, he had two other bedrooms. I can’t imagine a woman feeling comfortable in there. He had that big chair in there, remember?” Simone said, smiling. “I’ve been at this for six years, I’ve seen some weird stuff, but that goes to the top five categories.”

  “I wonder what he has locked in those storage rooms outside,” Carrie said, glancing at her. They looked at each other and laughed again. When she was able to talk, she continued. “He told me to feel free to visit him anytime, said he’d make it worth my while,” Carrie said straight-faced.

  “No shit, stop girl. You’re joking, right?” Simone shuddered at the image of Carrie with a man old enough to be her grandfather.

  Carrie laid on the horn at an encroaching driver.

  The loud blaring noise flipped Simone’s lips from a smile to a grimace. A stab of pain shot through her head as her vision blurred. The discomfort vibrated throughout her body. Grabbing her phone, she placed a call to her doctor and prayed this hell was a twenty-four-hour virus.

  Chapter 4

  Carrie’s last inspection ran over and she’d barely made the weekly mandatory Hunters’ meeting on time. Still dressed for work, she sat at the conference table listening to her father and uncle discuss the upcoming hunt. One of the younger hunters had information on rebellion forces in the mountains. Rather than let the Vemdorians destroy each other in a civil war, her father wanted that privilege. Not that Carrie disagreed, but she’d never admit to wanting to rid the earth of Vemdorians, or Vampires as they preferred to call them, in a meeting like this. There was a time and place for most things, now was not the time to show how bloodthirsty they’d become as Hunters. They were supposed to be the good guys, protecting humans. So it was important to keep her real actions and motives under the radar.

  Working as an appraiser allowed her access into a lot of places without suspicion. She’d been able to search all over town for clues under the guise of checking out comps, doing neighborhood analysis, and gathering market data. After a year of working as an assistant, her Hunters’ database held a wealth of information on Vampires living in the city. Several times she’d driven to the homes of Vampires and left red marks on their concrete driveways to alert their neighbors of their true nature, which was against the law. So far she hadn’t been caught, but the regional director had called her father and uncle to discuss their inability to handle their area and threatened to send in other Hunters if the violations didn’t stop. One look at Uncle Abalone’s face after that meeting and she hadn’t taken out the can of red paint since.

  Cryden slammed his huge fist on the table, causing a few glass mugs to tumble and hit the floor. “We should find these filthy creatures and gut them before they have time to act. They’re trying to breed again. It’s just a matter of time before they’ll need to feed, and some human will die.”

  Carrie watched the incredulous look on her cousin’s face and knew things would go from bad to worse.

  “Vemdorians don’t need to feed from humans,” her cousin Taney said, exasperation lining his voice. “They haven’t for decades.”

  Red-faced, Cryden pointed at Taney. “That’s what they want us to believe, but it’s a lie. A trick young hunters fall for.” He slapped his chest. “But we know better. That shit they pretend to drink is just a cover and if we don’t act, the humans will suffer and we’ll be charged guilty for not doing our jobs. Hear what I’m saying? You better listen, all Vemdorians are blood-sucking vampires that need to be destroyed.”

  “If we destroy them all, Uncle, what will we do then?” Taney asked, his gaze swinging from his father, to his uncle, and then the others at the table. “Our creed is to police them, to ensure they don’t break the canon, right?”

  Impressed by Taney’s fortitude, Carrie leaned back in her seat and waited for the explosion.

  “Just because your father sent you to that fancy law school don’t mean you can come back here and change things,” Cryden yelled, standing. “Creed or no creed, we hunt vampires. That’s what we do. They are all guilty in my book.”

  “So you would have them hunt us?” Taney asked in the same level tone.

  “I’d like to see them try,” Cryden snorted. “We�
��ve been kicking their Sentinels’ asses for decades.”

  “When you break the law, you’re no longer protected by it,” Taney said, watching his father. The two stared at each other a few moments.

  “What?” Cryden said, watching Taney.

  “When we go after Vemdorian law-breakers and administer justice according to the creed set in place by the One, we have His blessing because they are guilty.”

  “Of course they’re guilty, that’s what I’ve been saying,” Cryden said, retaking his seat.

  Taney shook his head and met Cryden’s gaze. “But when they haven’t broken the law and we attack, it’s no longer administering justice. We break our creed. Violate the law and set ourselves up to be punished by Him.”

  No one spoke for a few moments.

  “What do you suggest we do?” Carrie asked, drawing attention from her father. Better than anyone, she knew the old man thought all Vemdorians guilty, and killed more than any Hunter in recent history. Innocent blood not only stained her father’s hands, it covered his soul, and the old man wouldn’t change. He’d continue killing any and all vampires who crossed his path.

  Taney met her gaze and after a brief second, nodded. “Train. Remain prepared to act when needed. Know the law that protects us and others.”

  “Pussy,” Cryden yelled, jumping up, his face and neck mottled red. He pointed at Taney. “You’d have us sucking a woman’s tit and losing our backbone. Hunters hunt. We don’t study the law.”

  “That is why our numbers are shrinking,” Taney said, meeting his uncle’s hard glare. “When you break the law, it gives those you violate a platform to retaliate. In the past ten years, the Vemdorians have developed tools and weapons that we’ve not been able to combat. Just last month we lost two hunters. Lost. They just disappeared. We have no idea if they’re living or dead.”