Page 12 of The Psychic and the Vampire

I didn’t like motorcycles.

Viktor laughed out loud as the last thought slipped into his mental list. But it was true. Viktor’s height and power made him attractive to others. Add in the skills non-paras imagined, even if they usually underestimated them just added to his appeal – especially to people who had an overrated sense of their own importance. Better to ally with him than be beaten by him. That was a natural way of life. Viktor had no wish to lead people himself – that was too much responsibility that he’d never cared for - but he was happy with a second-in-command position. Allhe’d ever wanted was the freedom to move on anytime his feet got itchy. Nobody had been able to stop him so far, and Tony, in theory, was no exception.

But the motorcycle thought was valid. Viktor had been “courted,” for the want of a better word, by a motorcycle gang about the same time as he met Tony. The leader of the gang was rough and ready, far more intelligent than Tony ever would be, and he intrigued Viktor for a short while. But Viktor didn’t like bugs on his face, the noise of the bikes annoyed his ears and left him with a headache, and frankly his days of wearing jeans or leather pants was a phase he went through in the nineteen sixties. It wasn’t a time he wanted to revisit.

You didn’t think about joining a reading group instead?

No, he hadn’t, although that might have been fun for all of five minutes depending on who else might attend. Like many paranormals his age, and admittedly there weren’t that many around, but most of them, Viktor included, got bored. He needed the association with other people to give him a reason to get out of bed every day, and Tony, to a point, had given him that.

And now, I’m not bored. I’m just fucking fed up with Tony and his whole damn situation.Thinking about how Tony had blatantly murdered a man without thought and then bragged about it to Viktor as if the admission would make them even closer had annoyed the crap out of Viktor from the moment he’d heard about it. It was as if Tony genuinely believed Viktor killed the people he fed from – which was ridiculous – and so murdered someone as a bonding moment with him.

Viktor had been so tempted to place an anonymous call to the authorities just to get Tony looked into. But until he’d attended the court case, he genuinely believed there had been no witnesses, and there was a good chance no one would findanything to tie Tony to the murder.Although, if I could find where Tony hid the weapon…

That was an idea worth a second thought. But, as it often did, the thought of the murder and the court case led Viktor to thinking about the psychic. Doctor Anthony Channon. Ant. In truth, that man had taken up residence in the back of his head rent free from the moment Viktor had seen him.

He’s short for a paranormal.

Very powerful in his own way.

Almost certainly neurodivergent.Viktor hadn’t missed how Ant gave his testimony in court – his voice lacking emotion as he recounted the events leading to Fallows’s death. That wasn’t Ant not caring, because the words he used showed he did, but Viktor could see a definite disconnect in some of the things Ant said or did.

He’s intriguing.

“That’s what it is.” Viktor slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair. “I’ve been wondering why I can’t stop thinking about him, and that’s it. He’s interesting. Complex. Different.” And for a slightly bored and definitely fed up paranormal, that meant someone like Anthony Channon was catnip.

He’s also in danger.Viktor’s other side – the side most people would never see – stirred. It was almost as if he was paying attention now Viktor was thinking about someone interesting to them both.You caught the bullet meant for him, or at the very least, his necessary furry companion.

Viktor dug into his jacket pocket, pulling out the bullet and the small vial Ant had given him. As he did, he remembered the touch on his chest. Ant had known exactly what he was and hadn’t been afraid of him, despite their obvious differences. No.Instead – and Viktor had to imagine that he’d done it as a thank you – Ant had warned him thathewas in danger, even to the point of apologizing that he couldn’t give more details.

The room was now fully light thanks to the sun outside. Viktor held up the vial, watching as the glass caught the sun making the blood appear to glisten. Viktor had taken blood two days before, so it wasn’t like he should be thirsty for more, but the way the blood tilted in the vial… Every instinct Viktor had compelled him to have a sniff.

When you are ready.

Viktor snorted as Ant’s quiet voice rang through his brain. What did he need to be ready for? Blood was blood. Inside a living body it was precious necessity. To vampires it was even more so. Viktor could eat and drink normally, but his vampiric powers and the core of who he was as a paranormal meant he had to ingest blood on a regular basis.

But where that blood came from, provided it was human, really didn’t matter. Viktor had supped from paranormals in the past. He’d even tried the blood from a wolf shifter, both in his human and shifted form – only the once - but he could tick that off a list of mythical donor types. The two men had been drinking and joking about. The idea had come up about whether the blood tasted different depending on the form a shifter took, especially when Viktor was adamant he would never take blood from a four-footed animal.

It had been different. Very different. So much so, Viktor was trying to spit it out and get the taste off his tongue and the fur off his fangs, when the wolf attacked him. It turned out that while the man was willing, the wolf was pissed off. Viktor chalked that up to another lesson learned.

He’d never taken blood from a magic user before. That mostly stemmed from historical stories speaking of witches and warlocks ingesting potions that would tie a feeding vampire to their will. Viktor learned over time that there was no substance to the rumors, but superstitious fears remained. Besides, it wasn’t as though Viktor couldn’t find willing sources from regular humans before bagged blood sources were more readily available.

You’re procrastinating.His other half’s tone was mocking.If you don’t want to sniff that blood, then throw it out. You’re studying that thing as if you think the blood’s going to take on a life of its own and come flowing out of the vial, smacking you in the eye the moment the stopper comes out.

“It was a gift. I have no idea why the psychic thought I needed it, but it was given willingly. Ant shared the essence of who he is – the fluid that keeps him breathing. That means a great deal among our kind, and you damn well know it.”

More to spite his other half than anything else, Viktor undid the stopper, bringing the vial closer to his nose. He groaned as a bouquet of smells hit his nose. Sage, musk, hints of vanilla all floated on an undertone of powerful magic. He couldn’t help himself, sticking out his tongue and tipping the contents onto it.

Succulent ambrosia, that was Viktor’s first thought. It was a taste he’d never experienced before, but what he held in his mouth was so much more than the taste. As Viktor rolled the small sample around, desperate to hang onto the essence for as long as he could, his body was reacting. His cock hardened and as his eyes flew open, Viktor knew he was seeing through his other side’s vision. Everything in his line of vision had gone red.

Ours!

Both sides were in total agreement. In that instant Viktor understood his fascination with the small man with the mop of blond hair. Why he couldn’t leave him alone. Why he was compelled to follow him. Why he only had to follow his instincts to find the man even when he hadn’t seen him in hours. More importantly, Viktor now knew why he’d been so determined to keep the psychic safe.

He’s our forever.

Shower, you damn fool,his other side was forcing Viktor to his feet.You stink from your night out and you need to get clean before you go after him. Move it. Quick. What if someone shoots at him again?Viktor ran for the stairs, his ripped clothes tossed to the ground as he blurred his way to his bathroom.

Chapter Nine

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