Page 3 of Blood Pack Beginning

“Since when do the rogues slaughter humans?” Anabel questioned.

“I don’t know, but it appears as if they didn’t kill them all, going by the family photos and personal effects that suggest the house also had a male occupant and a second child who are missing.”

“Perhaps they weren’t home,” Pierrot murmured.

“Do you really believe that?” Sasha scoffed. More likely they were taken to feed Morpheus, a high-ranking vampire who had long been a thorn in the side of her boss, Thaddeus.

“I wonder if they hit other homes.” Tim glanced at the other dark abodes.

Without a word, they split up and began entering them, finding the same scenario played out over and over. Slaughteredfamilies, young and old, all human but for one: they discovered a single Lycan male butchered outside one home. An innocent or one of the rogues? If going by smell alone, then Sasha leaned toward the latter, but it didn’t seem like he was killed by one of the residents in self-defense. There was nothing to suggest a scuffle. He’d clearly been ambushed. So why, then, did they kill one of their own? Could it be he’d balked at the slaughter?

Most of the houses they’d searched showed indications some folks had been taken, without rhyme or reason. Young, old, male and female. What set them apart? Thaddeus probably could have answered, but the boss tended to keep things close until he felt it necessary to divulge

Another interesting fact? The rogue she’d been tracking had been joined by others. By Sasha’s reckoning of the various scents, a dozen converged on the small town, and she had to wonder why this particular place.

“Seems to me the rogues who did this are gone,” Pierrot remarked as the flock converged in the middle of the street.

“And left behind the rental we followed, meaning we have nothing to track,” Tim added.

What no one said, but all understood? The mission was a total bust.

Or so Sasha thought until a hint of sound distracted. She froze in place and closed her eyes to concentrate, sifting scents, analyzing sounds. A whisper of movement sent her running, sprinting across a yard, vaulting a bush. The other vamps joined her, if more slowly. While Sasha’s mental powers of persuasion might not be the strongest, she didn’t lack for strength and agility.

She quickly outpaced her brethren and caught sight of four fleeing figures, their legs pumping almost as fast as hers, the scent wafting in their wake most definitely canine.

Had the rogues left some of their number behind?

The boss would be pleased if she could capture them alive for questioning. She put on a burst of speed and closed the gap between her and the fleeing group. They headed for a structure on the edge of the town, the cross jutting from the roof indicating a church.

The four dogs barreled through the thick wooden doors and slammed them shut. Sasha’s pace slowed as she heard the thumps and bumps of furniture being moved as they barricaded the entrance.

As if that would stop her.

She stood in front of the door, hands planted on her hips waiting for her brethren to reach her.

“I take it they went inside,” Jorge huffed. The thicker-set vampire wasn’t used to having to chase. While most of their kind enjoyed greater stamina and speed, overindulgence and a lack of exercise made a difference.

“Yeah, they’re in there,” Sasha drawled. The rogues probably mistakenly believed themselves safe. After all, some folks trusted that a church was some kind of holy sanctuary that none would dare attack. Wrong.

Even if those cowering had no clue what Sasha was, it should be noted that no religion on earth could stop a vampire in its tracks. As a matter of fact, only a few things could actually kill a vampire. Direct and prolonged sunlight. The removal of the heart—because a stake injury could be healed, especially with the more seasoned vampires. Beheading was also popular, as few things could survive without a noggin, but again, that depended on the age and what was done to the head and body afterwards. Vampires weren’t easy to kill. A good thing, since pretty much everyone and everything hated them. Not that she cared how her dinners felt.

Sasha waved a hand. “Spread out and cover all the entrances. Windows, too, just in case. I’ll see if I can convince themto come out.” Doubtful, because without direct eye contact or touch, she’d have difficulty mesmerizing. However, chatting up her prey would give her team a chance to get in position before they slammed their way in.

Once her companions moved off, Sasha sauntered to the door with a nonchalance her once-human self would have envied. She’d been a street rat before Thaddeus found her. Living off the discards of others. Stealing what she needed to survive. A pathetic young girl who’d run away from the abuse at home, only to find out the world could be just as cruel. But she stopped being a victim when Thaddeus turned her into a vampire.

With hands planted on her hips, Sasha called out to those cowering inside the church. “I know you’re in there.”

No reply.

“Are you going to open the door and cooperate like good little dogs, or am I going to have to drag your asses out?”

“Fuck off.”

Not an unexpected response.

“You know,” she commented casually, “in the story, it’s supposed to be the wolf outside the building, threatening to huff and puff if the little pigs don’t come out.”

“I prefer the one where the wolf eats the annoying girl,” replied the same deep voice.

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