The Vampire Hunter. Michele HaufЧитать онлайн книгу.
too scared to run, and he didn’t want to stab at him. One pile of ash was weird enough. Had he just murdered someone? He didn’t want to go to jail. He’d take the cold, tough streets of Paris over jail any day.
The man inspected Kaz’s neck with probing fingers that made him wince. “How old are you, boy?”
“Si-sixteen. Today’s...m-my birthday.” Kaz shivered because his windbreaker jacket was never warm enough for February. “Who are you?”
“You can call me Tor. Happy birthday, kid. Looks as if you got the grand prize. I didn’t expect to run into any action tonight. You’re lucky I was in the vicinity.”
“I’m luck— Really?” Kaz held up the bloody chair leg. “I’m the one who took him out. What...what was that thing?”
“You’re right. You took care of the longtooth all by yourself. That was some incredible work, kid. What’s your name?”
“Kaspar,” he murmured. His eyes scurried over the ash and clothing. He couldn’t process, didn’t want to listen, but the man’s next words pulled him into focus.
“Kaspar, you just slayed your first vampire. And here’s the good news. Even though you’ve been bitten, and normally a bite will transform a mortal into a bloodsucker, if you kill the one who bit you, then you’re in the clear. You won’t transform.”
A worried noise scratched at the back of Kaz’s throat. Transform?
Tor pointed over his shoulder to the pile of ash. Apparently, not transforming meant he wouldn’t turn into a vampire. Was that some kind of twisted birthday present?
“The bad news,” Tor continued, “is monsters exist.”
Ah, hell. Kaz had always liked monsters. They’d not slept under his bed when he was little because his mother had chased them away with the broom. But then she died, and his world had, as well.
Tor picked up something from the ground and studied it. He held the bloodied key before Kaz. “This fall out of your pocket?”
Kaz swiped the old brass key and nodded, shoving it deep in his jeans pocket.
“Key to your house?”
Kaz shook his head. “Don’t have a home anymore. I’m on my own and doing just fine.”
The man nodded, and stood. “Damn right, you are. You’re one tough kid.” Hands at his hips, he peered over the destruction, then began to shuffle the ash toward the garbage bin, spreading it out. He picked up the singed clothing and dropped it in the trash bin. “My job is to ensure others don’t start believing all the myth and legend that really does exist. No one will suspect those bits of ash were once a creature of the night. You going to tell anyone what you saw, Kaz?”
Kaz tucked his head against his elbow and closed his eyes. He shook his head. He wasn’t even sure what he’d seen. What he’d done. He’d killed a vampire?
“You have a talent with the stake,” Tor said. “Homeless, eh?”
Kaz nodded minutely but didn’t look up at him.
“Well, you’ll need the wound cleaned up so it doesn’t get infected. And...to be totally up front with you, I don’t have a home for you or a means to help you.”
“Don’t need your help.”
“Course not. But there is a man I know who would be interested in talking to you. His name is Rook, and he heads an organization of knights who protect humans from creatures like the one that attacked you.”
“Knights?”
Kaz looked up into Tor’s eyes, blinked and saw...the truth. Along with the truth, he also saw a deep and concerned kindness he’d not recognized for years. So without thinking it through, he grabbed Tor’s offered hand and stood up, wobbly, yet not out for the count by any means.
“You can trust me,” Tor said, “though I know you won’t. You’re a smart kid and know how to protect yourself and that’s how it should be. But do you want to learn how to use that thing the right way?”
Kaz looked at the bloody chair leg he still gripped. The man was offering him something he hadn’t known in a long time—trust. And he wanted it with every breath he inhaled.
“Come on,” Tor beckoned.
And Kaz took his first steps toward chivalry, something he wouldn’t comprehend until many years later.
Chapter 1
The vamps were fast, and he—well, he wasn’t much faster, but he was skilled. A human matched against a vampire must wield some mean martial-arts skills or he had better be a track star. Kaspar Rothstein possessed the former, but right now he was contemplating the run.
Yep, best to go for the run.
The sickening heat of a vampire’s breath skimmed the back of his neck as he raced down an alleyway in the eighteenth arrondissement near Paris’s shadowed Montmartre Cemetery. His goal: to lure the four vamps far away from humans and curious eyes. Rushing into an open cobbled courtyard behind closed businesses far from any tourists, Kaz stopped abruptly, planting his steel-toed boots.
With a confident grin teasing his mouth, he swung around, catching one of the vamps in the chest with a titanium stake. The vamp ashed before him, forming the shape of a person out of fried vampire flesh, bone and clothing.
“Happy birthday to me,” he muttered his victory claim. Wasn’t his birthday, but who needed cake to celebrate?
The three remaining vamps grinned at him. Kaz had expected the idiot longtooths to actually share a brain among them and run for their lives. But if they wanted to stick around for the party games...
“Come on,” Kaz encouraged. He tucked away the stake and put up his fists. He hadn’t gotten in a workout this morning. Time for some fun.
The first vampire charged him. Kaz managed to grab him by the scruff of the neck, and swung the gangly tormentor toward another of his rag-tag pack. Their skulls cracked, both swore, and they collapsed on the cobblestones.
The leader swung around with a punch that Kaz stopped with his open palm. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kaz. Vampire hunter. I’ll be ashing you this evening.”
“Wiseass,” the vampire cracked.
Kaz gripped the miscreant’s fist, twisted, and with a swing from the waist, rocketed up a high sidekick to his jaw. The heavy boots delivered damage by breaking jawbone. The attacker dropped, growling and spitting blood. The other two charged him with fists. Kaz immediately dropped the one on the left with a wince-inducing gut punch.
A female scream alerted him. A woman clung to the limestone wall not thirty feet from their little soiree.
“Get out of here!” he yelled at her, and caught a punch across the jaw. He tasted his own blood, and shook his head to chase away the bluebirds spinning about his skull. That one could have led to his death had it been a knockout.
Enough play. Best to stake them before they beat him to a pulp. But—hell, not in front of an innocent.
Frozen in fear, the woman watched their antics with wide eyes. Chills scurried up Kaz’s spine. He delivered another kick and landed a vamp at the hip, sending it stumbling backward. He had to keep the vampires busy and away from her until she grasped her senses and ran. Only then could he ash these idiots.
Out the corner of his eye, Kaz alternated his attention between fight and female. Was she scared—or interested? She leaned forward from her position against the wall, her bright eyes following the action. A vampire charged him; he landed a kick to a particularly vulnerable part of its anatomy, bringing it down.
Licking her lips, the woman seemed to marvel over the show.
“Go!” Kaz shouted at her, but too late he realized the command had alerted