Revenant's Kiss (Chronicles of the Afterlife) by Joyce Robles Page B

he’d do it again, and
again, where ever and when ever he pleased until he was stopped, infuriated Jennifer. That he was so
sure that nothing could stop him and proven it true the night before filled her with more rage than she
knew what to do with. Someone had to put an end to him and she was very confident that she and
Manson were just the people to do the job. She felt that this is where if anywhere that the bastard
would be, and this would be where it would stop. One life lost was one too many, but seven was
unforgivable, most vampires were smart enough monsters not to draw this much attention. This one
had clearly lost his mind and decided that a full blown killing spree was too much fun to pass, which in
its own way made him so much worse than the regular killers they dealt with. In general the sort that
they put down on a regular basis tried not to kill so publicly. The real nutcase’s were the ones that
killed like this, in mass number, they weren’t as prominent as the regular bastard’s who were satisfied
with one kill a night but she’d run across enough of his caliber to realize madness took them all in the
end.
                   She stopped and Manson came to a silent halt behind her, keeping a sharp eye on their flank.
Not that far up ahead the same figure from the night before stood, his head bowed slightly to one side
as if it rested there on his shoulder. She remembered the first time she’d seen their killer last night, he
wasn’t what people would have suspected. She had thought when she was younger that a monster like
him would look the part, she wasn’t exactly sure what everybody else in the world would have
expected to find in someone who killed so easily. But she was used to them being beautiful creatures
and he did not disappoint, dark sandy blonde hair that fell past his shoulders, pale blue eyes. His face
was every young girls fantasy, which likely made them his easiest prey.
                  The problem with these handsome bravadoes was that they expected people to love them, and
it would be a ridiculous assumption if it wasn’t so frequently true. People were stupidly disarmed by
beauty and that was part of what made vampires so damn dangerous, they just didn’t turn ugly people.
But his kind didn’t seem as gorgeous after you’d seen them pull a young rooky limb from limb. She
swallowed hard, he should have noticed the two of them by now, was it possible that their fight the
night before made him arrogant enough to imagine she wasn’t a threat. She didn’t find that likely,
though he’d killed some of them, he’d taken a good hit or two himself. Still he didn’t move, she
couldn’t decide which would be more of an advantage in this particular scenario. Let him know that
they were here because ten to one he already knew, or try to sneak up on him and play whatever
stupid game he was concocting. Given sneaking up on him was an impossibility Jennifer knew that
shooting him in the back was the only option left to her. She was going to try and alert Manson to the
predicament in front when the guy in her head spoke up.
                 ‘Turn the radio off.’
                 Before she got a step forward the radio clipped to her side squawked to life. Malcolm’s voice
came over the line hushed for the all the good it did. Their killers head snapped over in her and
Manson’s direction. There was enough light to see that the sandy blonde locks on his head were wet
and caked red with blood. His face was hidden in the shadows so that she couldn’t see him clearly.
"Holy shit," something was very wrong with him, she didn’t know what but it wasn’t good. She could
not explain it but there was something debilitating and familiar about this creature, something she
couldn’t place, something that kept her frozen in fear. When she didn’t immediately shoot him he took
a lurching step forward, it looked like he was still hurt from last night.