As a journalist, Cassidy DiRocco
thought she had seen every depraved thing New York City’s underbelly had to
offer. But while covering what appears to be a vicious animal attack, she finds
herself drawn into a world she never knew existed. Her exposé makes her the
target of the handsome yet brutal Dominic Lysander, the Master Vampire of New
York City, who has no problem silencing her to keep his coven's secrets safe…
But Dominic offers Cassidy another
option: ally. He reveals she is a night blood, a being with powers of her own,
including the ability to become a vampire. As the body count escalates, Cassidy
is caught in the middle of a vampire rebellion. Dominic insists she can help
him stop the coming war, but wary of his intentions, Cassidy enlists the help
of the charming Ian Walker, a fellow night blood. As the battle between
vampires takes over the city, Cassidy will have to tap into her newfound powers
and decide where to place her trust...
I nearly
limped right past him, clouded by my own physical pain and the churning unease
in my gut, but the rattling hiss that growled from the alley tripped my
interest. I stopped walking.
The
night was cool and quiet in the aftermath of sirens and flashing lights. My
scalp tingled in response to the noise emanating from the alley, and I thought
of all the things I should do: I should return to the main crime scene, I
should finish my interviews, I should write my story and submit it to print
like a good, reliable, by-the-book reporter. The hiss rattled from the alley
again, but as I’d never been one to leave questions unanswered, I slipped a can
of pepper spray from my brown leather, cross-body satchel and sidestepped into
the alley to find the source of the noise.
What I
found was a man, and the rattling hiss was his struggling, gurgling, uneven
breathing. His entire body was ravaged by thirddegree burns. Tucked into a
shadowed alley between two buildings on the corner of Farragut Road and East
40th, he was crouched down as if warding off an attacker—perhaps in his case a
flamethrower—and not moving. I cringed, thinking about the injury that was
blocking his throat to produce such a horrible rattling. Maybe he was crying.
Maybe he
was just trying to breathe. I couldn’t decipher his expression because his
burns were so devastating. His face wasn’t really a face anymore beyond the
rough distinctions of a lump for a nose and a hole for a mouth. The unease
churning in my gut all night bottomed out. I wouldn’t have imagined that
someone so injured could still breathe.
Trading
the pepper spray for my cell phone, I dialed for Detective Greta Wahl.
“Wahl
here.” She answered on the fifth ring, just before I suspected my call would
transfer to voice mail. “I already gave you a statement, DiRocco. Let the other
sharks have a bite, will you?”
“I found
another victim, G,” I said without preamble. “Alive? Where?” Greta asked,
snapping from friend to detective instantly.
“A block
up Farragut. He’s still breathing, but he’s different from the others. No
bites.” I swallowed the bile that clogged my throat like hot ash. “His entire
body is burned to charcoal.”
“Is he
wearing a necklace, like the ones from last week? They were gold with a wolf
pendant.”
“I
remember,” I said. “And no, he’s not wearing a necklace. And he’s not shot
execution-style like those victims, either. He’s burned. This is probably a
different case altogether.”
Greta
sighed. “Stay with him. I’ll send a paramedic to you ASAP. It might be a few
minutes, though. We’ve still got our seven victims being stabilized here.”
“Got it.
We’ll be waiting.” I hesitated a fraction of a second before asking, “Any one
of our victims talking yet?”
“The few
that still have throats haven’t said a word. They’re all in shock. It’s not
pretty down here, DiRocco.”
“I know.
Keep me posted, and send Nathan to me if you can.”
“Will
do,” Greta said.
I ended
the call and sat gingerly on the ground next to the man to offer what comfort I
could and to give my arthritic hip the rest it needed. Injuries were supposed
to heal with time, but the scar buildup on mine had only increased in the five
years since I’d taken a bullet. The first stakeout of my career had set a high
standard for my field performance, but it had also left a permanent reminder to
listen to my gut. My hip ached on a regular basis, and lately, it would click
and grind when put to excess use. After an entire day on my feet, interviewing
officers and tracking down witnesses, my activities had apparently escalated
way past excess.
Once I
settled on the pavement, I held the man’s left elbow—one of two visible patches
of skin not blackened or blistered—and felt an overwhelming, humbling
gratitude, no matter my past injuries or current residual pain, that none of
these victims had been me.
According
to the brief interview I’d snagged earlier in the night from Detective Wahl, my
sometimes informant and longtime friend, seven other victims were still alive
at Paerdegat Park out of the twelve or so they’d been able to identify. Most of
them were in critical condition.
Nights
like tonight, when the world was writhing and in pieces, I’d rather feel the
pressure to write on deadline than capture a close-up of one of those ragged,
bloody bite marks. The victim next to me made another rattling hiss, the same
agonized noise he’d been making with every few breaths. He wasn’t visibly
bitten like the other victims, but his wounds looked wholly more devastating.
The only other body part spared from the burns was the left half of his chin,
which, ironically enough, bore an old, healed scar.
Goodreads Series Link: https://www.goodreads.com/series/139031-night-blood
Melody
Johnson is the author of the Night Blood series. She graduated magna cum laude
from Lycoming College with her B.A. in creative writing and psychology. While
still earning her degree, she worked as an editing intern for Wahida Clark
Presents Publishing. She was a copyeditor for several novels, including Cheetah
by Missy Jackson; Trust No Man II by Cash; and Karma with a Vengeance by Tash
Hawthorne. Book #1 of the Night Blood series, The City Beneath, is her debut novel.
When she isn't writing, Melody can be found hiking the many woodsy trails in
her Pennsylvania hometown or sunning and swimming at the beach. You can learn
more about Melody and her work at elodymay.blog.com, Facebook and Twitter.
Thank you for hosting THE CITY BENEATH!
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