Blood Moon: A New Adult Urban Fantasy Vampire Novel (The Superiors Book 1) Read online

  Blood Moon

  The Superiors Book One

  Lena Hillbrand

  Speak Now

  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

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  A note to my readers

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright © 2011 Lena Hillbrand

  Originally published as The Superiors

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the publisher, except in cases of reviewer quoting brief passages in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, and events are entirely coincidental. Use of any copyrighted, trademarked, or brand names in this work of fiction does not imply endorsement of that brand.

  Published in the United States by Lena Hillbrand and Speak Now.

  ISBN-10: 1-945780-11-8

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945780-11-0

  Created with Vellum

  This book is dedicated to my sister, Rose.

  Without you, there would be no stories.

  1

  At the sound of the bells signaling the end of working hours, Draven punched out and collected his pay. Every morning, the same thing. Although this marked one hundred years to the night since his evolution, he didn’t think of that. He didn’t know it was an anniversary of sorts for him—like for most of his people, time had ceased to have meaning the way it did for homo-sapiens. Even if he had known of the anniversary, he wouldn’t have thought much about it. His thoughts centered around one thing.

  Hunger nibbled continually at the edges of his nerves. Having only eaten one of his five rations that evening and nothing since, he had begun to weaken from overwhelming thirst by morning. He hadn’t gone so long without nourishment for a very long time. Unlike the usual slow work night, tonight his team had found a cache of contraband, mostly wooden items, that kept them busy and a bit nervous. But he didn’t think about that now, either. The hunger made him frantic, like an animal, clouded his vision, made important things fade and seem inconsequential.

  He had nearly reached the restaurant when he saw her.

  If he hadn’t been so hungry, he would have noticed her earlier. But with his mind so distracted, he didn’t see the homo-sapien until she darted in front of his silent car. She glanced up, her eyes huge and terrified, when she realized her mistake. But she didn’t freeze. She kept moving. So did he, for a second, too startled to command the Mert to stop. When he did, he also applied the manual brakes. He didn’t think the verbal command would engage quickly enough to spare the animal’s life.

  He swore as he wrenched the brake back. The car began to skid. Draven slapped his palm to the steering screen and twisted, pressing down hard, as if that would prove more effective than a light touch. The car spun, sliding sideways before smashing into the nearest building. Draven’s temple jarred against the window, sending a bolt of pain through his head. The car had jolted to a stop, folded around the corner of the building. He sat for a few seconds, waiting for his mind to catch up with what had just happened.

  “Merde,” he said, slamming his hand on the dash. He stepped out of the car and circled it, surveying its condition. The building had left a sizeable dent in the side of the Mert. Draven scowled and shoved the car away from the wall, back onto the street. The wheels still functioned, and since only the side of the car had been crushed, he wouldn’t have to pay for the damage. The Memory Metal would find the correct shape again in a night or so. Still, he’d have to drive around with a dented car. And he’d have to get the ad on the side redone.

  He’d already climbed back into his seat when he caught a faint whiff of sap and remembered the cause of his accident. Damn sapien, running into the street without looking for turning cars. Or too brainless to notice them. And what was a sap doing alone on the street at this hour of the night, the last meal before Superiors took sleep? Even trusted saps who ran errands should have gone home an hour ago.

  And they wouldn’t run like that.

  Unruly saps were always causing problems—escaping the Confinement, staying out past the appropriate hours for errands, running away from their owners. Granted, sometimes their owners could be quite cruel, but Draven couldn’t dwell on that. That was just the way of the world.

  He scented the air before closing the door. He could hear where she’d gone even from a street away. And he could still savor her tantalizing aroma, so tempting in his current state of hunger. He should bring her in. He’d receive bonus money if she had run away, and he could use it to fix the ad on his car. She’d caused the damage, after all.

  He turned onto the street where he’d heard her. After a second, he spotted her and slowed his Mert. She darted along the side of the buildings, away from the lights. She must have been young then, or brainless enough not to realize he could see her in the shadows, even in the dark.

  The Law required he report her or bring her in, and he needed the money. But he wasn’t sure he could do it, exhausted as he was, pulling on his reserve for strength. He didn’t know if he could resist, though feeding on someone else’s property constituted theft. But the Law—that was one of the important things that seemed inconsequential in the face of overpowering hunger.

  Another glance at his electronic dash screen told him they were alone. He slowed the car almost to a stop. No one would see. What would it hurt? He could quench his thirst, just a little sip, and put her out for someone else to return. No one would know, especially if she wasn’t private property. If he simply took some and let her go, no one could trace the crime back to him. It wasn’t sap-napping. And he needed food more than he needed money.

  He eased up beside her and stopped the car. Now she froze, her back glued to the wall in the darkest pool of shadow. When he opened his door, he could hear her heart beating, could hear the blood throbbing out of her center and through her veins, rushing to her head, to her legs, pulsing through her arteries. Her eyes darted about wildly. Perhaps she did not know he could see her, but she was prepared to run if he did. He took a step towa
rds her, then another.

  She bolted.

  Draven watched her for a few seconds before pursuing her. Though she sprinted faster than a sapien could manage without the rush of added adrenaline, in a few quick bounds he caught her and gathered both her arms behind her. He hadn’t been a Catcher a dozen different times for nothing. He’d learned a thing or two about dealing with saps in his hundred Superior years.

  He glanced around. The discovery of the dangerous material that night had put him on edge, and breaking the law was not something he did lightly. But no one appeared in the street. Even if a few people had seen him, they wouldn’t have known that he wasn’t simply recovering his own possession, or taking her to the Confinement.

  She let out a piercing, quite human shriek when he tucked her under his arm. After pushing her into the Mert, he slid behind the wheel. She kicked at him, panicked. He didn’t want her to kick the dash screen while he drove and cause an accident, so he waited for her to tire. Still, her thrashing irritated him, so he caught one of her feet and closed his fingers around her slim ankle. He hadn’t realized how young she was, no more than a child, really. She wasn’t his usual preference, but she smelled scrumptious.

  “Do you know my language?” he asked in the slow way he used with animals. Calming their hysteria, soothing them.

  She looked at him, her eyes wide and nostrils flared. She nodded.

  “Very well. Then still your mind. I’ll not hurt you. But if you run again, I’ll have to take you to the blood bank.”

  She shrank from him, and he released her ankle when he sensed her shift from blind panic to simple fear. The scent of it came off her in waves, filling the car. Though the scent bothered him, he’d grown so accustomed to it that he could ignore it without much difficulty. He pulled away from the curb, the near-silent swish of the tires the only sound in the stillness.

  “What are you going to do to me?” she asked in a small voice.

  He reached over to pat her dirty, bare knee. “I don’t know yet.”

  “Are you going to take me back?”

  “Eventually.”

  Her heartbeat slowed as she calmed, but he knew after speaking with her that she was too young. He didn’t like saplings—they reminded him of his childhood. And their sap had an unappealing thinness and lacked the richness that entered the bloodstream when they came of age. But she didn’t look any weaker than any other sapien, and she smelled healthy. He’d had plenty of sap that didn’t especially appeal to him.

  His mind raced each time a car passed, each featuring an ad, but he kept a lookout for the fancier, plain-colored ones. He only saw two of those—the people who could afford those cars didn’t live in his sector of the city. They didn’t own livestock, either, and they’d know he owned no livestock. He remained watchful, wondering if he’d have an opportunity to steal into his apartment unobserved, sapien in tow.

  The shabby cars and unadorned buildings in his neighborhood hummed with activity, last minute preparations for meals and sleep. He stopped in front of his building and turned to the sap. “Do not make a scene, and I’ll not hurt you unnecessarily. Do you understand?”

  “Are you going to kill me?” she asked, shrinking against the door.

  “Not if you cooperate. Come along then, I need to go inside for something, then I’ll take you back.”

  “I don’t want to go back. They were going to sell me to a restaurant.”

  She should be so lucky. He could think of worse places to go.

  “I can’t keep you,” he said, eyeing her. “Although I’d like to.” Hunger and impatience nagged at him. Something different about the scent of her sap drew him in, something wonderful. She began struggling when he pulled her from the car, but she did not scream.

  “Be still.” He put slight pressure on her neck with his fingers, and she obeyed, wincing in his grip. He slid his hand around the base of her skull under the layer of pale hair that fell down her back. “Good girl, good girl, that’s just right,” he murmured. While leading her towards the steps, he glanced around at the few people still out. Though he did not make eye contact, he imagined their accusing eyes upon him.

  Keeping his head lowered, he swung his gaze from left to right as they ascended the stairs. What was the punishment for being caught with an illegal human? Distracted by hunger, for the moment he could not remember, or perhaps he did not wish to remember. He placed his hand upon the keypad, and his door slid open, and he pushed the sapien into his apartment.

  Before stepping inside, he glanced around one last time, making sure the hallway stood empty. The sap began struggling to escape before he closed the door, but like all saps, she had little strength, and little intelligence to imagine she could elude a Superior.

  Draven removed his coat and hung it on the back of his chair. “Come here,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. He knew he was going to do something illegal, and he hesitated, but only for a moment. He had committed to this before taking her inside. Now the hunger had grown stronger still, threatening to blind him. Outside his apartment’s small window, the sky had begun to lighten. He hadn’t eaten for so long.

  The sap cowered in the corner.

  “Come here,” he repeated, pointing to a chair.

  She stood motionless.

  His teeth throbbed for her. “Do you want to make me angry?”

  She pushed away from the wall and trudged across the room, her wary eyes never leaving his face.

  “Good girl,” he said. When she’d seated herself, he began stroking her hair in the soothing way animals liked. “Do you have a name, little sap?”

  “Aspen.”

  “Aspen?” he asked in surprise, remembering the contraband in the ground. That was a dangerous name.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “That’s a good name for such a good girl.” He lifted her and set her on the edge of the table. “Now, Aspen, I’m not going to hurt you any more than I have to, all right? Just a little prick. You’ll hardly feel it.” He continued stroking her hair and her arms while he checked the insides of her elbows. Clean. Aside from the small port in her upper arm where all government-owned sapiens gave their nightly donation, she bore no marks. He lifted her hair and turned her shoulders, checking her neck before dropping her hair. All the while he stroked her back in the same soothing way. Animals proved more cooperative when calm and well-treated. Saps deserved the most kindness—after all, they were necessary, essential to life. Causing them pain always made him uneasy, so he tried to be quick. Feeding on the livestock did not necessitate cruelty.

  The absence of marks aroused his curiosity and he began examining the sapling’s ankles, her legs, running his fingers behind her knees. She sat rigid, staring at the wall above his head while he pushed up her shift and checked her groin and thighs. Nothing. She was smooth all over. A few round scars the size of the pad of his thumb marked the insides of her thighs, but he didn’t find more. He stood looking at her scars, fitted his thumbs to the tissue-thin skin of the marks. He knew those marks. He had those marks.

  He stepped away and shook his head, as if he could shake the memory from his mind.

  “How many years do you have, Aspen?”

  “Eleven.” A defiant edge had crept into her voice again. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-three.” He didn’t know his actual years anymore. But to her, he would be twenty-three. He had been twenty-three for a very long time.

  “I’m almost twelve,” she said.

  He looked at her, calculating. “And you’ve never been bitten?”

  “No. I was bought once, but I ran away, and they took me to the blood bank for a while, but I got sick and they sent me back to the Confinement.”

  He wasn’t sure how she’d react to this, then. She had run twice now, even after knowing the risk of returning to the blood bank. She must have a phobia of biting, and she’d gotten quite lucky.

  “Are you going to run now? Do I need to restrain you?”

  She looked at hi
m, childish belligerence in her eyes. “No. I’m not going to run.”

  “Good. Because I’m very hungry, and if I get angry, I might hurt you.”

  Her pulse quickened, and he could smell the rush of blood surging through her again. It made him ravenous for her.

  “Hold still for me. That’s a good little sap. Just like that. Very nice.” He continued speaking to her while he tied a cord around her arm. “I’ll be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you. Just like this, yes. You’re so good.” He placed a towel on the edge of the table and sat between her knees so he could hold her if she struggled. “If you struggle, it will hurt more, yes? It will tear your flesh. So be nice and good for me, and I’ll be good to you.”

  Her nearness, her mouthwatering scent, the sound of her blood rushing under her skin, all of it overpowered him.

  Slipping an arm around the small of her back, he scooted her forward until she sat at the very edge of the table. He could barely control himself. But when he looked up, he found her terrified, panicking. He kept an arm around her back like a steel band while he reached up with his other hand and gently covered her eyes. “Close your eyes now,” he said.

  The river flowing through her vein had risen, beautiful and blue and pulsing with life. He could control himself no longer. He turned her arm and let his teeth enter the vein. She gave a small cry, and her body went rigid once more, but he kept his arm around her back so she could not escape. After a moment she gave in, and he stroked her back while he drew gently on her thin arm. The sweet sap in her vein flowed into him, warm and so full of life that he could, for a moment, feel like he too flowed with that much life.

  2

  Aspen sat silent in the car, her mind flitting like a busy butterfly here and there. Where was this strange Superior man taking her? He’d said back to the Confinement, but her mama always told her you couldn’t trust a Superior any more than you could trust a dog with rabies. Aspen wasn’t actually sure what rabies were, but she figured they were something pretty bad.