Murphy Unit and the priest who helped make him what he now was, if the man was still alive. But until then he would take it easy.
Morgan didn’t like what he had become, but it was far better to have his soul back—if that’s what had truly happened—than to be an evil, oversized, blood-drinking mosquito. The life of an anti-vampire wasn’t his choice, but he had to admit, in a way, he was glad the Murphy bastards had captured him.
He could have killed himself and been done with his life. The thought had crossed his mind more than once, but he was on a path he’d come to accept. He believed in reason and fate. And whatever fate had in store for him, he was set to see it through. Maybe this was punishment for all the lives he had taken and the suffering he had placed on the living.
His current situation was one that he could use to help right the wrongs inflicted upon the world. He’d never met a good vampire; they were all evil. It was his responsibility now to protect humans from them, whether he liked it or not. He would do his job until the day a true cure could be found, and at that juncture he would have the choice of staying his current path or becoming human again.
Morgan gathered what little possessions he had, stuffed them in a small pack, and headed out the door. The lease was paid for a full year. He would head south, and only stop when he found a place that suited his needs.
But first he had a squealer to kill.
Chapter 7
Karen jumped into the driver’s seat, realizing she needed to press the brake in order for the car to start. With her foot firmly on the brake pedal, she turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life. Putting the gearshift in reverse, she removed her foot from the brake and stomped on the gas pedal. The Mercedes lurched backwards, slamming into the vehicle parked behind. Karen’s head flew back into the headrest. She jammed the car into drive and hit the gas again, praying the spare tire would stay on.
Sitting up and adjusting herself, Karen looked out her window to see agent McKlintock pointing a gun in her direction. Half a second later the driver-side window shattered, sending shards of glass, like dangerous confetti, over her entire body. She didn’t hear a gunshot, guessing he was using a silencer. Wasn’t that what all creepy government agents did? More bullets slammed holes into the car. She swerved right and left like a drunk driver, hoping to avoid getting hit, as fragments of glass spilled out of her hair and tumbled around inside the car. She felt a searing pain like she’d been cattle-prodded on her left knee. Heart in her throat, she glanced down and saw her pant leg was bloody and torn. She began flexing the limb as she drove, the knee bending normally. The damage, she hoped, was minor.
With the agent behind her, she felt a slight hint of calm before the rear window exploded, the sound deafening. Karen’s dread surged back completely. The passenger side headrest exploded into puffy white clouds of fabric. The man was definitely trying to kill her.
The parking garage exited onto a narrow street. She took the turn too fast and slid sideways into a parked truck. The impact sent a jolt through her body and pain shooting down her neck. More bullets thudded the car. Karen regained her composure. She saw the man reloading and hit the gas, taking off down the street, the truck’s side mirror wrapped in a twisted embrace around hers.
She raced along the street, blowing through a stop sign, and barely missed colliding with a taxi. She needed to get control of the situation. Using her rearview mirror, she glanced back. No one was following, at least that she could tell. She drove, taking turns without purpose other than she wasn’t sure where to go. Traffic was normal for that time of day in the city and she didn’t think she had to worry about getting shot at with so many people around. She didn’t want to draw any more
Morgan didn’t like what he had become, but it was far better to have his soul back—if that’s what had truly happened—than to be an evil, oversized, blood-drinking mosquito. The life of an anti-vampire wasn’t his choice, but he had to admit, in a way, he was glad the Murphy bastards had captured him.
He could have killed himself and been done with his life. The thought had crossed his mind more than once, but he was on a path he’d come to accept. He believed in reason and fate. And whatever fate had in store for him, he was set to see it through. Maybe this was punishment for all the lives he had taken and the suffering he had placed on the living.
His current situation was one that he could use to help right the wrongs inflicted upon the world. He’d never met a good vampire; they were all evil. It was his responsibility now to protect humans from them, whether he liked it or not. He would do his job until the day a true cure could be found, and at that juncture he would have the choice of staying his current path or becoming human again.
Morgan gathered what little possessions he had, stuffed them in a small pack, and headed out the door. The lease was paid for a full year. He would head south, and only stop when he found a place that suited his needs.
But first he had a squealer to kill.
Chapter 7
Karen jumped into the driver’s seat, realizing she needed to press the brake in order for the car to start. With her foot firmly on the brake pedal, she turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life. Putting the gearshift in reverse, she removed her foot from the brake and stomped on the gas pedal. The Mercedes lurched backwards, slamming into the vehicle parked behind. Karen’s head flew back into the headrest. She jammed the car into drive and hit the gas again, praying the spare tire would stay on.
Sitting up and adjusting herself, Karen looked out her window to see agent McKlintock pointing a gun in her direction. Half a second later the driver-side window shattered, sending shards of glass, like dangerous confetti, over her entire body. She didn’t hear a gunshot, guessing he was using a silencer. Wasn’t that what all creepy government agents did? More bullets slammed holes into the car. She swerved right and left like a drunk driver, hoping to avoid getting hit, as fragments of glass spilled out of her hair and tumbled around inside the car. She felt a searing pain like she’d been cattle-prodded on her left knee. Heart in her throat, she glanced down and saw her pant leg was bloody and torn. She began flexing the limb as she drove, the knee bending normally. The damage, she hoped, was minor.
With the agent behind her, she felt a slight hint of calm before the rear window exploded, the sound deafening. Karen’s dread surged back completely. The passenger side headrest exploded into puffy white clouds of fabric. The man was definitely trying to kill her.
The parking garage exited onto a narrow street. She took the turn too fast and slid sideways into a parked truck. The impact sent a jolt through her body and pain shooting down her neck. More bullets thudded the car. Karen regained her composure. She saw the man reloading and hit the gas, taking off down the street, the truck’s side mirror wrapped in a twisted embrace around hers.
She raced along the street, blowing through a stop sign, and barely missed colliding with a taxi. She needed to get control of the situation. Using her rearview mirror, she glanced back. No one was following, at least that she could tell. She drove, taking turns without purpose other than she wasn’t sure where to go. Traffic was normal for that time of day in the city and she didn’t think she had to worry about getting shot at with so many people around. She didn’t want to draw any more
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