Blood Dragons (Rebel Vampires Book 1) by Rosemary A Johns Page A
Authors: Rosemary A Johns
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I didn’t want to feel like just another groupie, or any more of a sad git than I already did when we first met.
How’s that for a superior species?
But now’s my chance. My turning round.
So, this was our first true meeting. Only you never knew it until now.
This song started up on the radio. Then this singer and the voice… It was sultry but fragile, with a northern edge and a hint of Marianne Faithfull. Yet it was rock, rather than folk, through to its core. It belted me in the sodding gut because it was like everything I’d tasted on my trip down Carnaby Street - this new world blossoming from the earth, which made me feel old for the first time: dusty and dead . I craved another shot of this vibrant vitality and to suck the Soul from that voice – you - directly into my veins.
I’d wager it was your humanity, which we stripped away with every kill, rejoicing in each sacrificial hunt, that drew me to you.
For the first time in a century, I missed the heat of the sun.
I tried not to point too wildly at the radio. ‘Who’s this?’
Alessandro flushed. Interesting . ‘One of ours. She sings at The Heartbeat Club, so I hear.’
‘You’ve gone a little red there.’
Alessandro pressed his palms hard against his lugs, rocking backwards and forwards for a moment. Then he wrapped his arms around his middle. ‘Kathy’s…dishy…’
‘That right? Listen,’ I edged closer, ‘the twins, what’s up with them? All this record company bollocks? I’ll be buggered if all they’re building is a music empire. Are they like the Kray twins or something?’
Alessandro sharply twisted off the radio. Your voice and world was lost to me again, leaving me with only the aluminium starkness of neat corners and the festering mouths of Komodo.
‘Or something.’
‘They’re Irish,’ I began thoughtfully, ‘elected after me. They’re brutal, ruthless but dedicated leaders. Taking a wild guess, they’re IRA?’
Alessandro clutched my arm, his small fingers digging in hard enough to hurt, as he dragged my forehead close, until it was touching his. ‘Members of the original Irish Volunteers; they were involved in the Easter Rising and the later fight for freedom against England. Aralt told me it was all right though - what they did - because Ireland was in a state of guerrilla war. They’re not terrorists or… The struggles made them officers in Ireland’s army. I don’t know if I…but that’s what he said. They were special too. Members of the Twelve Apostles. Assassins.’
‘Yeah, blokes who murdered their Old Bill, right?’
‘British troops too. It was war Aralt said. And in war people do things, which are… But please, you can’t… He only told me because he’s my Author. He’s private like that. About his past--’
‘You could knock me down with a feather. And? How were the twins elected?’
‘Black and Tans hated men like Aralt and Donovan. They burnt down their home one night. With the twins in it. Lucky for the twins, however, he’d already been watching and following their impressive exploits.’
‘Who?’
Alessandro rocked back on his heels. ‘Ruby’s Author, of course. Plantagenet.’ Alessandro looked confused at my blank expression; even he couldn’t misread that obvious a reaction. ‘She didn’t tell you? How she was elected? About Plantagenet?’
‘Doesn’t look like she told me sod all, does it?’
You know when you die and are elected into Blood Life, the one thing you reckon you won’t bleeding have to do any more is go to lame parties with limp, wilting grub and warm beer and make nice with the natives.
Do you reckon it’s a pass to some glamourous VIP lounge?
Yeah, that’ll be right, well, maybe when it was just me and Ruby and I let myself dream, like some doe-eyed berk, that we were set apart, alone and united in blood and love and bollocks to the rest.
But that was the lie.
Now I was finally waking up to the fact that this Blood Life was no
How’s that for a superior species?
But now’s my chance. My turning round.
So, this was our first true meeting. Only you never knew it until now.
This song started up on the radio. Then this singer and the voice… It was sultry but fragile, with a northern edge and a hint of Marianne Faithfull. Yet it was rock, rather than folk, through to its core. It belted me in the sodding gut because it was like everything I’d tasted on my trip down Carnaby Street - this new world blossoming from the earth, which made me feel old for the first time: dusty and dead . I craved another shot of this vibrant vitality and to suck the Soul from that voice – you - directly into my veins.
I’d wager it was your humanity, which we stripped away with every kill, rejoicing in each sacrificial hunt, that drew me to you.
For the first time in a century, I missed the heat of the sun.
I tried not to point too wildly at the radio. ‘Who’s this?’
Alessandro flushed. Interesting . ‘One of ours. She sings at The Heartbeat Club, so I hear.’
‘You’ve gone a little red there.’
Alessandro pressed his palms hard against his lugs, rocking backwards and forwards for a moment. Then he wrapped his arms around his middle. ‘Kathy’s…dishy…’
‘That right? Listen,’ I edged closer, ‘the twins, what’s up with them? All this record company bollocks? I’ll be buggered if all they’re building is a music empire. Are they like the Kray twins or something?’
Alessandro sharply twisted off the radio. Your voice and world was lost to me again, leaving me with only the aluminium starkness of neat corners and the festering mouths of Komodo.
‘Or something.’
‘They’re Irish,’ I began thoughtfully, ‘elected after me. They’re brutal, ruthless but dedicated leaders. Taking a wild guess, they’re IRA?’
Alessandro clutched my arm, his small fingers digging in hard enough to hurt, as he dragged my forehead close, until it was touching his. ‘Members of the original Irish Volunteers; they were involved in the Easter Rising and the later fight for freedom against England. Aralt told me it was all right though - what they did - because Ireland was in a state of guerrilla war. They’re not terrorists or… The struggles made them officers in Ireland’s army. I don’t know if I…but that’s what he said. They were special too. Members of the Twelve Apostles. Assassins.’
‘Yeah, blokes who murdered their Old Bill, right?’
‘British troops too. It was war Aralt said. And in war people do things, which are… But please, you can’t… He only told me because he’s my Author. He’s private like that. About his past--’
‘You could knock me down with a feather. And? How were the twins elected?’
‘Black and Tans hated men like Aralt and Donovan. They burnt down their home one night. With the twins in it. Lucky for the twins, however, he’d already been watching and following their impressive exploits.’
‘Who?’
Alessandro rocked back on his heels. ‘Ruby’s Author, of course. Plantagenet.’ Alessandro looked confused at my blank expression; even he couldn’t misread that obvious a reaction. ‘She didn’t tell you? How she was elected? About Plantagenet?’
‘Doesn’t look like she told me sod all, does it?’
You know when you die and are elected into Blood Life, the one thing you reckon you won’t bleeding have to do any more is go to lame parties with limp, wilting grub and warm beer and make nice with the natives.
Do you reckon it’s a pass to some glamourous VIP lounge?
Yeah, that’ll be right, well, maybe when it was just me and Ruby and I let myself dream, like some doe-eyed berk, that we were set apart, alone and united in blood and love and bollocks to the rest.
But that was the lie.
Now I was finally waking up to the fact that this Blood Life was no
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