1305 & 1306 The Oracle & the Vampire (The 13th Floor) Read online

  Table of Contents

  TABLE OF 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

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  1305 & 1306 – THE ORACLE AND THE VAMPIRE

  By Christine Rains

  1305 & 1306 – THE ORACLE AND THE VAMPIRE

  By Christine Rains

  Copyright 2013

  Cover design by Christine Rains Copyright 2013

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or won it in an author/publisher contest, this book has been pirated. Please delete and support the author by purchasing the ebook from one of our many distributors.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  OTHER BOOKS BY CHRISTINE RAINS

  Fearless

  L’il Gal Al and the Zombies of Amarillo

  1301 – The Marquis

  1302 – The Alpha

  1303 – The Dragonslayer

  1304 – The Harbinger

  DEDICATION

  For Cherie,

  whom both her cats and I

  greatly respect.

  TABLE OF 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

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  Harriet had been running around half the night screaming about the death of a popular politician. Such was her curse as a banshee. She wobbled and held tighter to the handrail. Only two more steps. Why had she walked up the stairs again? It wasn’t as if she needed to work out her calf muscles.

  Taking her time, Harriet stepped up. She breathed out and took that last stair. No tumbles. She’d made it, and she was home a few hours before sunrise. That made it a good night. A nap was in order before she had to go to work. She only had one client to visit, and it was happy Ms. Bates. That woman made being a nurse a pleasure.

  The door to the thirteenth floor swung open. Harriet patted the doorframe and said a hoarse “thank you” as she shuffled inside. It was warm and the lights were dim, making it easier on her tired eyes.

  Using the wall as support, she shambled toward the end of the hall. It was mostly quiet except for the heavy footsteps in apartment 1302. Stefanie was pacing again. The wolf must be feeling particularly antsy trapped inside tonight. Harriet could relate since she was stuck inside her old crone’s body.

  Passing Xan’s door, Harriet was almost home when she stumbled. She grunted as she fell to one knee, and her hair spilled into her face like a white curtain. A head toss would work during the day if her hair became untamed, but now her neck muscles were too tight and exhaustion demanded she conserve her energy for making it to her bed.

  The door at the far end of the hall opened.

  Oh no. Not now.

  Her whimper brought Kiral fast to her side.

  “I’ve got you, Grandmother.” The vampire’s sensual voice made her shiver.

  Color rose to her cheeks. There was nothing more embarrassing than being in love with someone who called her Grandmother. She was cursed in more ways than one.

  Kiral slipped his left arm around her middle and took her nearest hand. “Let me help you inside.”

  Harriet brushed her hair from her face as he helped her stand. Trying not to stare, she peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. He was the most gorgeous being she’d ever seen. Even looking a little rough tonight, he still had those succulent lips and bedroom eyes. His dark hair was mussed and the scent of sandalwood incense clung to him. Incense she’d made for him.

  “Thank you.” Her voice cracked as if trying to imitate a nervous teenager’s, but sounding more like a toad instead.

  He opened the door to 1305, and Elli hissed from the foyer when she saw him. Kiral smiled as if the cat had welcomed him. “Your familiars don’t like me so much.”

  “Elanore doesn’t like anyone.” Harriet shooed the orange tabby cat. She spotted Kerr, her gray tom, perched on the couch’s arm. He was bigger than the other cat, but it was Elli who ruled the roost.

  Elli spit once more and then strode into the living room with her tail held high.

  At least Harriet had had a chance to tidy up before sunset when she turned from a young woman into a hag. The hardwood floor was swept and no cat hair layered her cozy furniture. One of the cats had knocked the paperback she was reading from the couch, but everything else was in its place.

  As they got closer to the nearest chair, Harriet squeezed his hand tighter. Once he set her down, he’d leave. She’d often tried to coax him to stay with an offer of tea, but he never did. Kiral was always kind to her, but he didn’t want to spend his night with an old woman. He’d only ever seen her in her banshee form and didn’t know she was a young woman in the day.

  Not that she believed she was worthy of a hot guy like him. Her face was too long, and she always had dark circles under her eyes. When it was humid or rainy, her long hair frizzed out. She was a hag when it wasn’t night too.

  “Sit down, Grandmother. I see you’ve had a long night.” Kiral spoke softly. “Would you like me to fetch you something to drink?”

  Once seated, Harriet reluctantly let go of him and shook her head. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  Elli circled around the other side of the chair and growled.

  “Hush now, Elli.”

  Kiral ran his hands through his hair. It might’ve been sexy if he wasn’t trembling so. “All right then. I’ll leave you to get some rest.”

  “Are you all right? I could help if you need—”

  “No.” He replied too quickly. He wet his lips and shook his head slowly. “There’s nothing you can help me with. I just need some fresh air. A walk will do me some good.”

  He backed toward the door.

  His movements were jerky. Harriet recognized them as springing from desperation. No, there was nothing she could help him with. No potion would ease his mind tonight.

  “Be careful out there. Carmine’s streets grow darker each year.”

  “I don’t think I’ll have anything to worry about.” Kiral flashed her a smile, showing a bit of fang. He then slipped out of her apartment without waiting for a good-bye and shut the door behind him.

  Harriet’s body heaved with her sigh. She was in love with her neighbor who was a vampire with a narcotics addiction. Why was life never simple?

  She’d watched him the past couple of years. A lot of the time through the peephole in her door.
Kiral suffered, but he was so strong in abstaining. She fantasized she would save him from himself, make him well again with her healing skills, and he’d sweep her off her feet murmuring how much he loved her in his breathy, exotic accent.

  True, Harriet didn’t know much about him beyond his name, addiction, and the small kindnesses he’d done for her, but his aura showed her he was good. Tormented by his craving and guilt, but there was light beneath the layers of tarnish. Besides, the mystery of the man made him all the more alluring.

  Elli glanced at the door and meowed proudly as if she’d been the one to chase Kiral out. She then pranced to Harriet and pawed at her leg.

  “Yes, yes. I know. You’re hungry. Just give me a minute to rest.”

  Meowing more loudly, Elli swatted at Harriet’s ankle.

  Harriet opened her mouth to tell her cat to be patient, but the vision swallowed the words as it slammed into her.

  On a rooftop overlooking a blackened city center. Hideous gremlin-like monsters danced around someone in bloodied chains. Kiral. Kiral in chains. He lifted his head to the rising sun and screamed as his flesh burned. Screaming, pain, fire, screaming, charred flesh, death, screaming.

  It was Harriet’s shrieks that filled the apartment. In her mind, they mingled with Kiral’s.

  Kiral. No, not Kiral.

  She sprang from the chair and flung open the apartment door. Her screeches echoed down the hall, somehow increasing in volume rather than diminishing. Harriet couldn’t stop herself from running back and forth along the corridor as she cried over the fate of the man she loved.

  A man who would never know she loved him.

  Chains, monsters, and burning.

  Death.

  Harriet screamed as much for herself as she did for him.

  CHAPTER 2

  Kiral had almost bitten the old woman. He tore down the stairs, burst through the doors, and threw himself into the night as if he might launch himself into the blackness of space. Not even eternal darkness could erase the disgust and guilt marring his soul.

  Smashing a fist against the nearest brick wall, Kiral ran through the streets. Everything blurred, and he could almost pretend nothing else existed. There was nothing to tempt him. He was free.

  Perhaps he fooled everyone else, but he’d never overcome his addiction. Some nights it caressed his flesh, gentle and alluring. Other nights, it was an unrelenting throb that thumped under every thought. And nights like these, they were the worst. It took a hold of him, smothering him with powerful urgency.

  Even the crone with her tainted blood smelled delicious. If he ever hurt her, he’d never be able to forgive himself. The kindness she’d shown him was far more than anyone had given him in all his unnaturally long life.

  Kiral slowed to a walk near the downtown area. Even at this hour of night, there were still people about. Working, partying, up to no good. He could find a criminal and drink from him. It might take the edge off and allow him to sleep through the day.

  He didn’t want just a drink, though. It was the high. He needed the mind-numbing narcotic rush.

  Needed. No, he didn’t need it. He’d been clean for almost three years now.

  Three very long years.

  A little hit wouldn’t hurt, right? Something to soothe the insistent craving before it clawed its way out of his flesh.

  Stopping, Kiral placed his hands on the edge of a garbage can and leaned forward. A couple walking by gave him a wide berth. The woman crinkled her nose and snuggled more into her companion.

  She might’ve thought he was drunk and going to throw up. Her repulsion teased up Kiral’s anger. Little did the bitch know that he could rip off her man’s head and drink her dry before she could catch the breath to scream. Maybe he should do so. She had no right to look down her nose at him.

  Bending so his forehead nearly touched the can, Kiral cursed himself. Such a miserable wretch he was. He had great physical strength and supernatural senses. His good looks mesmerized people as much as his gaze. Yet he couldn’t conquer his addiction.

  “You doing all right, friend?”

  Kiral jerked up, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. He hadn’t heard or smelt anyone approaching.

  A man stood at the dark mouth of the nearby alley. When Kiral’s gaze fell upon him, he smiled. Friendly yet with a wicked quirk to the one side. He was dressed for clubbing in an evocative leather jacket and tight ripped jeans. His hair was mussed in much the same way as Kiral’s. The pair of them could’ve been in a band together.

  “Looks like you’re having a rough night.” The stranger removed a cigarette pack from his jacket and knocked out two, walking forward and offering one to Kiral. “Go ahead. No filters on these, though.”

  “Like it matters.” Kiral sighed and closed the distance between them, taking the cigarette. “Thanks.”

  Something smelled off about the guy. The faint odor of burnt meat clung to him. Not like the flavorful scent from a steakhouse, though.

  Taking out a lighter, the man lit his smoke and then handed the lighter to Kiral. “No problem. Looked like you could use it. Or maybe something a little more.”

  Lighting his cigarette, Kiral peered at him over the flame. Ah, now he had the bastard pegged. Expensive clothes yet hanging out in an alley. Not a bad part of town, but not the best either. He bet there were a roll of cash in one jacket pocket and a bag of pills in the other.

  “You don’t have what I need.” Kiral inhaled and tilted his head back a bit to blow a plume of smoke into the autumn breeze. He tossed the lighter back to the fellow who caught it without looking.

  The stranger’s smile broadened. “I might surprise you. Go on and ask. I have access to the rare and expensive treats.”

  Kiral had played this game hundreds of times. A good dealer wouldn’t show his best right off. He’d flash some ordinary dope, testing his customer, and if the buyer proved to be more than a casual user, he’d take out something potent. Yet still, it wouldn’t be the primo stuff. Not everyone was privileged enough to cut a deal for that, and only the pusher could decide if the customer was worth it. Meaning, if he had a steady income and an addiction.

  “You don’t have it.” Kiral took one more drag on the cigarette and flicked it onto the street. He dipped his head once and moved to leave.

  “You’re a connoisseur, I can tell. No plain A positive for you. Something more rare. O negative? Or even AB negative?” The man chuckled when Kiral turned to face him again. “Oh yes, I know what you are. And don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” He crossed his heart with a wink.

  Kiral narrowed his eyes. Who was this guy? He didn’t for a second believe he’d randomly come across a pusher for vampires.

  “Don’t you worry about the details, friend. We provide what you need and we clean up the mess.” He took a drag and let the smoke trickle from between his lips. “For a price, of course.”

  Of course. Kiral didn’t know whether he should kill the bastard or run. He remained rooted in place. Could the dealer really provide what he needed?

  Kiral shook his head. He was an idiot for even considering this.

  “Let me show you what we have tonight.” The guy snapped his fingers, never taking his eyes off Kiral. A second man exited the alley supporting a sagging teenage boy. His cohort was shaggier and not dressed for pleasant business. And the teen …

  Kiral’s nostrils quivered. More than human. His stomach tightened. Canine. And from the boy’s groan, limp limbs, and gaunt features, he knew what else flowed in his veins.

  Rare, indeed. Kiral’s lips parted as if he could taste the blood on the air. It had been so long. Just one bite. He was right there. Surely he could stop himself in time before he drained the teen. And it’s not like the kid would remember.

  His body leaned forward, pulled by an invisible rope. “How much you asking?”

  “Well, money isn’t exactly my thing.” The dealer finished his cigarette and extinguished it into his palm without a twitch.

>   The longer Kiral stood there, the more the scent of the kid filled him. His head swirled, and when he closed his hands into fists, they were still shaking. This was too perfect. It was just what he needed.

  And what he should never have.

  Kiral inched closer. Fresh track marks decorated the kid’s arms. He must’ve just shot up. It was the best time to drink. He could feel the ache down to the tips of his fangs.

  “Shall we talk about the price?” The pusher smirked, but the grin flattened as he whipped his head to the right.

  “Kiral!” Marc’s voice boomed as he strode down the street. His broad chest heaved threatening to pop the buttons of his flannel shirt.

  Kiral flinched, looking down as if he were a child caught in the act of sneaking a cookie. Marc was the one person in the world Kiral wouldn’t want catching him doing drugs. And here he was.

  Marc had gotten him through bad nights like this. Never had he fallen so far when he was around. Ferocious shame pushed back at his craving.

  “Take care of him.” The dealer gestured to Marc. The shaggy guy shoved the kid to one side as his eyes turned red. He growled, flexing his muscles, and turned to meet Marc.

  Demons. Bloody demons.

  Kiral started to shout out to Marc, but his friend didn’t slow. Marc held up one hand and ejected a ball of fire from it. It sizzled as it zipped through the air and smacked into the shaggy demon. The demon’s sharp cry was cut off as the fire so swiftly consumed him that he was a blackened skeleton within seconds. The bones stood there as if they might run away for half a second before disintegrating. Only a smoking pile of dust remained.

  Marc never discussed his past with Kiral, but he knew what his friend was. Yet Marc never acted like a demon. Never felt like these ones. So Kiral had never treated him as such just as Marc never treated him as a pariah because he was a vampire and an addict.

  Yet to see Marc incinerate someone without blinking, he found he was looking at a stranger. Why did he feel like he was betrayed?