Page 9 of The Tenor's Shadow

Chapter 3

Freddie

Freddie was stalking his prey in King’s Cross when he felt his master’s Call. He’d watched silently from an adjacent rooftop as a rogue vampire drifted through Granary Square, looking for a victim. The sun had set just a few minutes ago, and the rising moon illuminated the fountains below in a liquid, pale white.

The vamp slid in and out of the shadows, searching for an easy mark among the locals and tourists that gathered in the square. Some sat and drank wine, chatting with their neighbors, while others wandered, taking pictures or sight-seeing. The vampire must have thought he had gone completely unnoticed.

He was wrong.

Freddie had been watching him for days, ever since the grizzled, gaunt-looking American had stepped off the tube into King’s Cross. He actually envied the guy’s deep tan and dark brown locks. Freddie’s bright red hair and pale skin made him stick out more in the moonlight.

Not that the man’s coloring had kept him hidden. Freddie had spotted him almost immediately, the powerful scent of a newly made vampire drawing his attention, a rich bouquet of embers and ash.

There was something about the smell that brought out a melancholy in Freddie. It reminded him of the turbulent years after he’d been turned.

He didn’t have a problem with rogue vampires. Some vamps weren’t cut out for life in a coven. But you couldn’t waltz into a new city and start feeding without checking in with the ruling power. If you came to London, you had to talk to Freddie’s boss. That was just the way it was.

His master’s Call tugged at him, filling him with an urgency to return. Freddie spoke an answer into his mind.

Soon. Dealing with a rogue.

Coven Master Hughes didn’t respond in words, although Freddie felt a sort of amused grumbling come from him. Freddie’s master knew he wouldn’t keep him waiting without reason. Master Hughes trusted Freddie, as he should. Freddie had been the head of security for the Hughes Coven for decades now. He was devoted to his master and to his fellow vampires.

Freddie wasn’t good at a lot of things. Small talk. Smiling. Making friends or, god forbid, finding lovers. But he kept people safe. Even if he often felt like an outsider among the other vampires, he would protect them until the last drop of his undead blood had been spilled. The Hughes Coven was his home, and he was its guardian.

A shift in the shadows, and the rogue was on the move. A tall, thin man in jeans and a ratty t-shirt, he was tailing a young blonde woman, probably college-age, as she made her way down the steps to the canal.

As the vampire closed in, she shivered and wrapped her jean jacket tighter around her, walking faster as she took the turn onto the path parallel to the waterway.

Despite his ragged appearance, the rogue vamp followed smoothly and confidently, sure of his ability to take down his victim.

He shouldn’t have been so confident. Freddie moved like a ghost through the shadows, keeping just enough distance to stay unnoticed. He was in his element. He thrilled at the excitement of the hunt, filling with satisfaction that he was keeping the people of King’s Cross safe, vampire and human alike.

“Slow down, little girl.” The American stepped in front of the woman, and she jumped and stumbled back. Freddie had seen him coming with his heightened senses, but the rogue had moved too quickly for a normal human to follow.

“Who…what do you want?”

“Just to walk you home.” The vampire closed the gap between them. Frozen in place, the woman’s eyes darted around, searching for anyone else, but she was alone. The path was empty, a pale line running along the dark canal.

As the rogue vamp reached out, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward himself, Freddie was already there, his hand around the predator’s neck.

The woman wrenched herself out of the rogue vampire’s grasp.

“Go,” Freddie growled at her. With a gasp, she took off running. Freddie didn’t love to scare humans, he’d rather not be seen by them at all, but in situations like this, fear was a better motivator than some attempt at a logical explanation. He needed her gone so he could deal with the problem vamp struggling to escape his grip.

“Stop.” Freddie glared at the rogue, letting his fangs drop. He lifted the vampire up by the neck. The interloper might be tall, but he couldn’t compete with Freddie’s six-foot-four frame and long limbs. The vamp squirmed as he kicked the empty air underneath him, clawing at Freddie’s muscular arms and hissing.

Freddie’s eyes narrowed. He preferred not to kill, but he would if he had to. The demon inside Freddie was moving under his skin, pushing for violence and blood. He didn’t want to give into the urge, but he wouldn’t have an intruder feeding in King’s Cross.

“I’ll break your neck,” Freddie threatened. The vampire stilled, staring at him with arrogance and fear. Freddie loosened his grip enough to allow him to speak.

“Let me go.” His words came out in a hoarse whisper.

“Where’s your sire?” Freddie pitched his voice low, ensuring no humans further up the embankment would hear him.

The rogue pressed his lips together into a thin line, the tips of his fangs peeking out. His eyes narrowed. He didn’t answer.

Freddie pulled him closer, their noses almost touching. “You smell, what, six months old?” he snarled. “Where’s your sire?”

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