Page 1 of Night's Reckoning
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Ben was expecting the punch, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. It landed on his jaw, snapping his head back. His skull cracked on the edge of the metal chair where they’d tied him up.
He was sitting in an old warehouse on the run-down edges of Genoa, taking their vicious punches with his ears open, ignoring the taunts of the humans around him. The men had grabbed him when he’d been snooping around the warehouse near the railroad tracks.
Exactly as he’d planned it.
One vampire stood with the humans, silently watching Ben as he tried to ignore her. The humans he wasn’t worried about. The vampire was another story.
“I hear she keeps him on a tight leash,” one of the men said. “I’m surprised he got this far out of Napoli.”
The vampire was female and petite. In Ben’s experience, a vicious combination. She stared while Ben tried to look beaten and miserable.
“Poor boy.” Her voice purred. “Little puppies who wander too far get kicked by the bigger dogs.” Her voice was a whisper that begged for his attention, drawing him in, seducing him, exactly as she wanted it to.
Ben narrowed the one eye that wasn’t already swelling shut and concentrated on the pain to resist the lure of her voice. Hits to the face he’d put up with for the job. Kicks to the ribs were hardly anything new. But if the vampire touched him, she would be able to useamnis, the electric current that gave her elemental power and control over humans if she wished it. Ben would do nearly anything to escape his brain being messed with. It had happened before, and he wasn’t a fan.
He’d been told he had natural resistance to amnis, but resistance wasn’t immunity.
“What does Piero want with him?”
The vampire’s purring voice turned hard. “Shut your mouth if you want to keep your tongue, human.”
Ben tried to see which man was talking. It was the bombastic one, the tallest in the group with three days’ worth of beard and a sweat-stained polo shirt clinging to his chest. The man had fists the size of Iberian hams, and they felt just as solid.
It didn’t matter.Piero. Ben had a name. One down, one to go.
The human puffed out his chest and angled his shoulders back. His chin went up. “I don’t work for you.”
“You stupid mortal,” the vampire muttered. “Of course you do.”
“Piero gives me orders. I don’t even know why he brought you to Finale—”
The man’s voice cut off with a strangled gurgle.
And a place. The corner of Ben’s mouth turned up. That was quicker than he’d thought.Gotcha.
The humans in the gang started shouting at the vampire, who released the man’s throat from her iron grip and let him slide to the floor.
Ben silently released his wrists from the restraints he’d loosened an hour before, minutes after they’d tied him up. The humans weren’t very good with knots.
As the men shouted at the small vampire in defense of their friend, Ben moved, slipping from his bonds and easing into the shadows between stacked pallets in the warehouse. The whole place smelled of sardines and motor oil, not a good combination.
“Stefano, where’s the kid?”
More shouting in loud Italian. Their accents didn’t sound like Genoa. Much farther south if Ben had to guess. Not Naples. Sicily? Calabria maybe. His client would want to know. The vampire wasn’t Italian. Ben was guessing French.
As he crept away, he listened for her movements. She was the only one who presented a real threat. The floor was cold against his feet—hard-packed dirt with cracked concrete near the door. They’d taken his shoes, and he had no idea where they’d put them.
“You idiot!” another yelled. “Piero is going to take your balls!”
“He’s a skinny foreigner. Find him, you shit! He can’t have gotten far.”
Ben slipped into a shadowed corner and climbed up the plastic-covered pallets, clinging with his fingertips and toes to the edges of the wrapped cans and waiting for the first man to come to him.
A dark-haired human looked into the narrow corner but didn’t notice Ben halfway up the wall. He turned around, and Ben immediately fell on his back.
Ben locked his elbow around the guy’s neck and slapped a hand over his mouth to block his muffled yell. Once his mouth was covered, Ben chopped the edge of his hand against the man’s throat in a swift slicing gesture, bringing him to his knees and driving the breath from his lungs.
