Bound By Blood. Elizabeth Valentino

      I am well and truly fucked. In the very near future either a lycan or a vampire will burst through my door to try and kill me. As I release the magazine from my gun, a metallic click echoes through the shabby motel room–where I’ve holed up to wait out the daylight hours in some obscure village outside of Venice. With a practiced flick of my fingers, I check the ammo clip, a mindless task to help me focus. I jam it back in, before placing it on the surface of a small, unsteady table. I can’t keep my eyes from wandering over to the motel bed. It is an ordinary looking single with a scratched and scarred headboard, topped with a lone lumpy pillow. The steady drip of blood rolling off the garishly colored, polyester-blended blanket is the only indication something isn’t quite right. Well, that and the very dead lycan lying there. As each dull, wet drip of blood reaches the stiff carpet, it blossoms outward into a macabre splatter painting. Each drip reaffirms that my life span has been shortened to about nothing.

      I don’t really mind. Living as a vampire is not how I envisioned my life would go. Until I was turned, I hunted vampires with a consuming passion and vengeance. I was driven to avenge what they reduced my sister Lillian to: a blood-sucking monster. So far all I’ve accomplished is ending up just like her.

      I need to stay alive until I find a way to help her. There has to be a way to save her without shoving a DMSO grenade down her throat. It’s rumored an ancient holy man hid a book that holds the secrets to forging an alliance with a god or goddess. Once this bond has been made, you can ask for one favor. They may or may not help you. The higher deities are fickle like that, but it’s the closest thing to a solution I can find. In exchange, I will be bound to serve as that deity’s portal into our realm, forever.

      I intend to find that book, soon. I paid a lot for a semi-reliable tip, which claimed the book lies within St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City. How I’ll get there in a timely manner, with the little money I swiped from the vampire stronghold during my escape, is still an issue.

      The rapidly approaching scent of fresh blood makes my fangs lengthen. Shit, a mortal is coming. At least it’s just one–probably the well-meaning but nosy motel clerk, Mrs. Novak. As a safety precaution, I slip my gun into the back waistband of my leather pants, just in case I’m wrong. The knocks shake the rickety door. I secure my polarized goggles over my eyes and shrug into my thick black coat. In one quick motion, I pull the full hood low over my face. As an afterthought, I throw the extra blanket over the lycan’s body.

      “Coming,” I shout as another knock, this one more impatient, echoes through the room. I swing the door open just enough to peek out. “Hello, Mrs. Novak. What can I do for you?”

      A wide smile settles over her face, spreading the wrinkles almost smooth across her overly-tanned skin. “Oh, nothing honey. I just wanted to make sure you were settling in. Do you need anything?” With a push to my door that makes her multitude of bangle bracelets jingle, she tries to invite herself none-too-subtly into my room.

      “I’m actually all set, and thank you so much for your kindness. I was just about to catch a nap. All the traveling has caught up with me, and it’s getting difficult to keep my eyes open.”

      “I don’t want to pry into your business, sugar. You seem like a nice girl. This is just a suggestion, honey, but maybe you shouldn’t go out dressed like that. I don’t want to have to dispose of another body. It's no use getting the police involved any more, since they don’t give a shit about anyone who isn’t padding their wallets. So I get stuck with the mess.”

      “You think someone would shoot me because I wear goggles and a black coat?” The panic must have become more widespread and chaotic while I was imprisoned.

      “People have been shot for less. There is so much talk swirling around about supernatural beings invading. I guarantee you, half the common citizens believe it. Everyone is trying to blame something or someone for the world going bananas.”

      “Do you believe that’s what’s happening?” I wearily eye the sawed-off shotgun she hauls around with her all the time. Making her suspicious would be a bad idea. I probe her mind a bit to see if I can control her thoughts and feelings toward me. No such luck. Her mind’s blocked. Not all humans can be mind-controlled. “Since when are people called common citizens?” I need to know what I am dealing with out there.

      “Have you been hiding under a rock, lovey? I won’t say I totally believe in these supernatural beings, but...” Looking first left, then right, as if she suspects we’re being watched, she pulls me close and whispers, “I don’t want to spread any rumors, but avoid the gentleman who just checked into twenty-two-B. He’s bad news, and I don’t think he is entirely human.” With a twinkle in her kind brown eyes she adds, “But oh honey, he is a hottie.” Sinking her blood-red nails into the sleeve of my jacket, she giggles like a teenage girl. “I totally almost got off when he asked if I had a room available. But mark my words, there is something not right about him.”

      “I’ll watch out for him, I promise.” Poor Mrs. Novak doesn’t know she’s talking to one of the real monsters.

      “He told me his name is Bryce D’Angelo. That’s a made up name if I ever heard one. He’s probably an escaped convict. Normal guys don’t run around with shaved heads, or that many tattoos. He’s definitely a bad boy.” Her bangle bracelets jangle together again as she once more tries to push her way into my room.

      I am saved when my stolen phone breaks the silence with an obnoxious ring. Only one person can be calling me. I knew Steele wouldn’t be able to resist turning this into a sick game. We’ve played at cat and mouse far too long for him to just let me get away. “I have to take this call, Mrs. Novak. I’ll drop by the office for a chat in a bit, I promise.”

      “You are such a nice girl. I will talk to you later, lovey.” In a final jingle of bracelets and a flutter of crispy platinum hair she saunters off, pushing her breasts out as she passes 22B. I guess she isn’t that concerned about its hot occupant.

      Fear and anger merge as I shut and lock the door before fishing the phone from my pocket. I am in no hurry. I know Steele will keep calling until I answer. He is a persistent fucker.

      As the screen illuminates, it flashes Steele. Gods, I knew this was coming and I invited him, but facing even his voice conjures up the hell he put me through. With a sharp inhalation, I gulp an unnecessary lungful of air to steady myself as my finger hovers over the answer button. Before this thing is over, one of us will end up dead. I would prefer it to be Steele. The ominous beep of the answer button mocks me with its cheerfulness when I jab it. As the screen illuminates, Steele’s handsome face–masked by cruelty and rage–flashes over the screen. New technology sucks ass. Why is it necessary to video chat with someone?

      “Where in the gods’ names are you? And what have you done with the lycan?” Sparks of energy crackle over Steele’s skin, slightly disrupting the signal. His short, coffee-colored hair stands on end, emitting sparks as well.

      “I told you, there was no way your prison could hold me. As for the lycan, if you want him back, you’ll have to hand over my sister.” With a sharp crack, the back of a wooden chair splinters beneath my hands. I hadn’t even realized I was holding it. After only a relatively