Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

NICHOLAS

A train whistle pierced the early morning air in the small Pennsylvania train station. The sun had not yet risen, so I was safe, for now, but I wouldn’t be for much longer if I didn’t get on the damned train. It had been late pulling into the station, and I risked the sun coming up, but I still had time. Something, however, poked at my brain, telling me something was wrong. Not with me, but just a vague sense of unease that wouldn’t let me get on the train.

Of course, the reason I was getting on the train could cause this sense of nervousness. I crinkled the piece of paper in my hand and resisted the urge to throw it in the garbage can a few feet away. Throwing it away wouldn’t erase the message, no matter how much I wanted to ignore it. The universe had already allowed me to ignore it for several weeks since it had been mailed via the slowest route possible—the postal service and all the different address changes I’d left behind over the many years since I’d left home. An email or text message would have been far easier and more direct, though those methods were too modern for my family, mired as they were in the past. Granted, I may have forgotten to give them my updated cell phone number, though I used it so rarely that I often forgot it myself.

Or had I? Honestly, I didn’t remember. It had been decades since I’d been home, but I kept in touch with our family’s blood servants, so they knew I was still alive. They always knew how to contact me. Or at least I thought so. Vampires, along with other supernatural creatures, had only come out in the past few decades. Prior to then, I had had to keep moving, changing my identity frequently to reduce questions about my lack of aging. Now, things were infinitely easier. I resumed my original name and traveled as I wanted, though only at night. That curse still affected me, as it did all vampires.

Which was why I was seated on this cold, plastic bench in the middle of a rural Pennsylvania waiting for the train to begin my long journey home. Though it wasn’t the only reason.

I was tired. I had been alone for a long time, making my way through the states, helping people, trying to smooth relations between the vampire community and humans. Initially, I had done it under a cloak of secrecy, since vampires were only a myth, an urban legend. When we revealed ourselves, things didn’t get much better. Some humans welcomed us, while others hunted us. And our kind reacted just as badly. For too long, the vampire community had seen humans as foes or food. We needed to find common ground to build relations.

I had been so na?ve, telling that to my father and the head of our clan, my cousin Hugo. They both told me I was young, arrogant, inexperienced. Those were the kind words. Other words were stupid, ignorant, simple. But I was determined to prove them wrong. Had I succeeded? Doubtful. All I knew was that I was tired, and I needed a place where I could be safe, where I could retreat for a while and know that I didn’t have to be on guard all the time. I had to go home. Based on this letter, I was welcome.

Slowly, I smoothed the crinkled paper, folded it carefully into four sections, and tucked it into the inside pocket of my leather jacket. I stood, slung my duffel bag over my shoulder, and made my way to the train to find the sleeper car I’d booked for the trip. This railway made special accommodations for vampires. Between that and an extra donation, I would be protected while in my deep sleep during the day, then have a delightful dinner of warmed blood waiting for me. Bagged, not fresh. No one wanted a hungry vampire on a train.

I paused as I took a step up, that feeling of unease prodding at my senses. Then I caught a delicate, fresh scent on the breeze. The smell of sugar cookies, cinnamon, and vanilla teased my senses, and my fangs pressed against my gums, igniting a hunger even though I’d already fed well that evening. I glanced behind me, scanning the surrounding platform area and parking lot, but didn’t catch sight of the source of the delectable fragrance.

“Can you keep it moving, buddy?” A man behind me gave me a little push, and I froze and slowly pivoted, staring him down. The man paled and stumbled back, dropping his carry-on and holding his hands up. “S-sorry, man. Take your time.”

I silenced the rumble in my chest, not realizing I had even let it start, and got on the train. But the whisper of unease wouldn’t leave me. As I made my way down the aisle of the regular car, towards the sleeper in the back, I peered out the windows into the darkness, cursing the blinding lights around the platform that hindered my night vision.

Then I saw it. A figure in white, moving quickly, running even. But two darker figures reached her first and hauled her back into the shadows. No one was around. No one saw. I was the only witness.

I whirled around and pushed past the man behind me, shoving him into a woman already seated, barely offering a muttered apology. Something told me that I had to save her, or I would regret it forever. I’d spent much of my long years in a similar capacity, dispensing justice and helping others as I saw fit. But nothing was more imperative than this moment.

The train doors began to close, and the car jerked. The engine's sound changed in preparation to pull out. “Buddy, you can’t get off now. You’ll be killed!”

The ticket inspector stood in my way, blocking the exit, but I hissed, my fangs fully engaged and eyes red from the blood lust surging inside. The man stumbled back, terrified by the sight.

The doors to the platform were closing, and I wrenched them open, shoving my way through, my bag catching for a second on the doors. I jumped from the moving train, landing on the platform on my hands and knees, barely feeling the impact. I scrambled to my feet, my gaze already fixed on where the woman had been dragged. I inhaled, opening my senses. The smell of gun oil, garlic, and fear overpowered the sweeter scents I had first detected.

Leaving my bag where it had landed next to me, I sprinted for the darkness, a blinding speed that only a vampire could make, a growl emanating from me. Mine .

Holly

I trembled as I scanned the train station parking lot in the early December morning. I was bone-weary, every muscle in my body aching with exhaustion. As a baker, I was used to early mornings, but that was usually after an early night to bed. Not after being chased for days by mobsters determined to silence me for what I’d seen almost a week ago in the alley behind the bakery where I worked.

The police had tried to help me, but they needed time to verify my story. Wasn’t it enough that Mr. Dimitriou hadn’t opened his shop all week and hadn’t been home? Did they really believe he suddenly took a trip for his health? His health was terrible because I saw him shot dead in the alley! No more would I ration his pastries because of his diabetes or worry about his high blood pressure. He didn’t have to worry about that anymore. But I felt terrible for his poor wife, who didn’t know what had happened to him. Though when I saw her two days ago and looked into her eyes, she knew but was too terrified to speak of it.

And now someone was making sure I could never speak of it, either. I had to leave the bakery, the one place where I had thought I might be able to put down some roots. Now I had to figure out where to go next. Where would I be safe? I had no family, few friends, and nowhere to go. Theoretically, that should make it harder for the guys on my tail to track me, right? They couldn’t predict my actions. Yet somehow, they’d been everywhere I had gone in the past few days—the bus station, police station, my apartment, a hotel in town. I had hoped they would either be sleeping or working at this time, and I could slip out of town.

So far, so good.

I grabbed the one bag I had been able to salvage from my apartment. I didn’t dare go back for anything else, not after I had walked in on them ransacking my place. I had fled with only the bag and my car. Now to get the hell out of Dodge, as the saying went.

I only saw a few solitary figures, men and women in business attire, probably taking the train to the city or on a business trip. No one else lingering anywhere. No cars off to the side. I had been sitting and waiting for two hours until the train pulled up. When the whistle went off, my heart almost exploded in my chest. But now I could escape. Make a new life somewhere else and hope they couldn’t find me.

After debating for a few more minutes, I grabbed my bag, got out of my car, and raced for the train, only to be yanked back just at the edge of the parking lot. I screamed, but a leather glove slapped over my mouth, cutting off the sound.

“Be quiet or we’ll have to make you be quiet,” a menacing voice spoke from the darkness behind me.

“I thought we were doing that, anyway. Aren’t we going to kill her, Tommy?” the other voice, more high-pitched but still male, asked.

There was a slapping sound, and the high-pitched male yelled, “Ow, what was that for?”

“For you being a dumbass. Shut your mouth and grab her bag. We gotta go before anyone sees us,” Tommy, I presumed, said, terrifying me.

I wiggled hard, wrenching around like the trout I once saw flopping on the boat when my grandpa took me fishing. My thrashing must have surprised them because suddenly the hold eased, and I darted away, yelling for someone to help me.

Only there was no one left. The station was deserted, and the train was pulling away. The high-pitch, piercing warble of the whistle drowned out my screams as the train, and my hope, chugged away.

I was going to die here. All alone. No one would care. I had no one left. My parents had died when I was young, and my grandparents had taken me in, raising me until their deaths. I had no one else. I would be forgotten. And at the happiest time of the year.

Christmas.

Didn’t that just suck?