Page 1 of Sleeping With the Vampire

Chapter 1

Izzy

I sense the danger before I see it.

It is the shift in the breeze, the way the air is suddenly filled with movement at the edge of the old graveyard where I have come to visit my father’s last resting place. It is a good place to think, and usually, peaceful.

But now, something – or someone – is coming for me.

I can feel there are eyes on me, drawing me out.

Without having to think about it, my posture changes to one of readiness. My knees soften, ready to jump or lunge out of the way, my hand sliding into my pocket for my dagger with the reinforced silver blade. I have various weapons, but the small dagger with the sharp blade is my favorite. I have trained with it since I was a little girl. Despite my mother’s fears, I have become a bounty hunter like my father before me and I can only hope to one day be as good at it as he was. Despite my size, or perhaps because of it, I have a high success rate. I am often underestimated. No-one thinks the pretty girl with the innocent blue eyes is capable of bringing big men into submission. But I can move fast, and I have unusual strength from being half-Guard, from my father’s side, a line of descendants of the Northern men, hard and tough folk, accustomed to a life of fighting.

I watch the far end of the graveyard where the trees are dense and dark and I see the shadows part for a tall man coming towards me. As he comes closer, I sense it is a vampire, from the athletic stride and the magnetic aura that surrounds him. I am immediately on edge. My father’s hatred of them has been bredinto me, and I loathe them just as he did. It helps that I also inherited the Guard’s resistance to their charms, the pull that they exert over their prey. It is one of the reasons why I have been particularly good at hunting them.

As he comes closer, I notice his clothing, the fine cut of his jacket and the exquisite shirt underneath. His bearing is almost regal. He is unusually tall and yet of a slim build and I realize that this must be King Lucca Fallon, the head of the prominent d’Valleira family. He is known to have a certain allure, with his blonde hair the color of untarnished gold. He is said to be reclusive and is not often seen away from his home, a refuge deep in the Grey Mountains. I wonder where his guards are, the warriors who’d usually accompany him. He is alone and this strikes me as odd. His approach across the open churchyard is not accidental, he wants me to see him coming towards me openly. It is meant to reassure me, but it doesn’t work.

When he is a few yards away, he stops.

“Greetings, Miss Izzy Bonnici, I hope you don’t mind me dropping in on you like this, intruding on private time with your father.”

So courteous, so charming. I don’t fall for it for a second. I don’t respond but tighten the grip on my blade, which he must sense.

“I come in peace, I wish only to talk.” He looks around, “For me, graveyards are a second home. I couldn’t resist coming here.”

“Being dead, I can see why,” I can’t help but say.

A small smile plays around his lips.

“Well, I know some who rest here as well. When you have been around a while, you tend to… lose people,” his voice softens. He points towards some of the graves.

“I remember many of these men, good men.”

I bite my lip. “There are many Guards here, friends of my father’s.”

He is bloody good-looking, I will give him that, looking much younger than his around three hundred years, with blue eyes that sear through me like electric currents. There is a stillness about him that could have been menacing but doesn’t come across that way. I’ve had dealings with his eldest son, Ragnar. He recently stole one of my targets, taking the thief I was about to take to the Executive Council. I’d been tracking him for weeks when the vile Ragnar took advantage of me resting for the night to nab the mark. I blame myself for not noticing that Ragnar was tracking me, and for not taking in the thief as soon as I had located him, giving the opportunity to Ragnar to swoop in and take my bounty.

“I have a proposition for you,” the king says.

I snort. “I am not interested in any proposition from you or your family.” Ragnar’s wicked behavior is still fresh in my mind.

But I need to be careful. I can’t provoke him. He is old and much stronger than me. My biggest fighting advantage is the element of surprise and I don’t have that now. I don’t wish to die quite yet.

The king nods, and does not seem fazed.

He comes closer and I feel my heart beating faster.

“I heard about what Ragnar did, to be honest, that is what drew me to you. You see, I have a matter of urgency and secrecy and I need someone with a very special set of skills to look into it. The fact that you know Ragnar and have had dealings with him counts in your favor as you will know what to expect.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

The king takes a moment.

“My wife, the queen Tanata, was killed months ago. The Council investigated but ruled it an accident. I know it was noaccident,” his voice becomes hard. “I have reason to believe there are some who are plotting against me. I have to be careful who I approach with this, as it is risky and the person needs to be discreet.”

“I am not that person,” I say quickly, and he nods, as if he was expecting this response.

"I am prepared to offer you some information about the death of your father in return for your help.”

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