Black Bullet (The Order of the Senary) Read online

  Table of Contents

  BLACK BULLET

  Acknowledgements

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  BLACK BULLET

  The Order Of The Senary

  L.D. ROSE

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  BLACK BULLET

  Copyright©2016

  L.D. ROSE

  Cover Design by Fiona Jayde

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN: 978-1-68291-263-8

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  For a certain someone who inspired this book.

  I will never forget you.

  Acknowledgements

  Back again! I can’t believe it!

  First, I have to thank my husband for his infinite patience and endless support. I love you more than anything in this world and I’m so very lucky to have you in my life.

  A HUGE thanks to Char Chaffin, fabulous editor extraordinaire, and Debby Gilbert, founder of Soul Mate Publishing. You’ve both been far too kind to me and I’m thrilled to work with SMP again on another addition to this series.

  To SMP’s art coordinator, Cheryl Yeko, and super-talented artist, Fiona Jayde, for another awesome cover. I love it!

  To all of my fellow CoLoNY members and Soulies for your guidance and encouragement. Every writer needs a community and I don’t know where I would be without all of you.

  To my AMAZEBALL beta readers: Debbie Christiana, J.C. Stockli, Kari Miller, Kym Michelle, Kasidy Manisco, and Molly Somogyi. You guys keep me going and I love you all dearly for putting up with my moments of insanity.

  To my Ghoulies at DEVOUR THE NIGHT on Facebook: I HEART YOU, GUYS! You make me laugh, keep me inspired, and comfort me in the knowledge that I’m not the only supernatural freak in this world. Keep those creepies coming!

  And of course, to you, dear reader, for continuing on this wild and dark adventure with me. This book has been quite the labor of love and I truly hope you enjoy it.

  Love is giving someone the power to destroy you, but trusting they won’t.

  -Source Unknown

  ONE

  The Knight Compound

  New Rochelle, New York

  Two years ago

  Oh God, the pain.

  Being torn limb from limb, cracking down the middle, shattering into pieces, his blood boiling in his veins and his organs twisting in his belly. Shards of glass hammered into his eyes, wave after wave of agony crashing over him, and he roared, his howls filling the enclosed space around him.

  Jon writhed, fought, although he didn’t know what he was fighting. He clawed at the air and found nothing to anchor to. His mouth tasted like iron and he was cold, so cold, yet liquid fire fried his every nerve. Clutching his gut helplessly, he felt as if someone had blown a hole right through his body.

  Hole. Blown. Body.

  Shot.

  In that instant, it all came rushing back to him.

  The shadowy darkness of the rooftop as the freight elevator came to a halt. Seeing Kasen and Taylon facing off one another, Taylon sprawled on the asphalt shingles as Kasen hovered over him. Sensing that something was terribly wrong, something had been missed, and Jon felt compelled to look at the next building.

  The glint of black steel in the scarce moonlight several yards away.

  Launching into a sprint, no thought, all action, adrenaline bursting through his veins to make him run faster than he ever had before. Pulling the ultraviolet grenade from his inner jacket pocket and gripping the warm metal tightly in hand. The look on Kasen’s face as he hurtled into him, pushing the hybrid out of the rifle’s sight.

  Metal meeting flesh, tearing into his back and blowing a hole out the front of him.

  Feeling incredibly numb, so numb he knew this was it—he was dead. Kasen clutching at him, screaming in denial as the world started to blur and blacken fast. Pushing the button on the silver sphere and activating it, his last royal “fuck you” to the vampire world. Thinking it was better off like this; Kasen would take better care of Veronica than he ever had. She needed the hybrid more than him. His mouth filling with his own blood and spilling from him while the cold November air rushed into his body, caressing him in places never meant to be caressed.

  Sweet, sweet darkness as he descended into a pool of oblivion.

  He had died on that rooftop, in Kasen’s arms.

  He had died.

  The pain came to a startling halt, leaving him dizzy. Jon breathed raggedly, unable to get enough air in his lungs, like he was drowning in a vacuum of space. His heart slammed in his chest, his pulse trying to pound its way out of his throat like a trapped bull. He heard voices, vague but familiar, and he could only pick up parts of sentences over the noise in his head.

  “. . . didn’t pass out . . .”

  “. . . the Epo helped . . .”

  “. . . still had eight . . .”

  “. . . think it worked?”

  “. . . don’t know. God, I don’t know.”

  Jon groaned, willing himself to move, but his body didn’t respond, as if he were entombed inside a statue. Jesus Christ, was he paralyzed? He couldn’t remember how to move, as if this body no longer belonged to him, as if it didn’t work the same way it had before.

  Tears slipped from his sealed eyelids and pooled in the hollows of his ears.

  The roar in his skull became a low purr and soon it disappeared. He’d lost all perception, but it slowly returned to him, revealing things he’d never heard or felt before. He was in a cold dark room, on an icy stone slab. The smell of ash and death informed him that a cremator of some sort stood behind him
. Two heartbeats thrummed against his eardrums, both steady and pulsing at the same rate, a half beat off from one another. The ebb and flow of blood rushed within arteries and he felt oddly drawn to the sound. Life radiated from two strong males who weren’t fully human.

  Rome and Shaul.

  Then Jon realized the metallic taste in his mouth was blood.

  Panic surged over him, granting him motor skills, as he lifted a shaky hand and wiped at his tears. He opened his eyes to find his hand covered in blood, some of it dried and caked, some of it fresh and glistening.

  He cried blood.

  He tasted blood.

  He’d drank blood.

  Horror burst through his every cell as he sat bolt upright. His breath escaped him in a rough gasp as he beheld the world around him with vision so sharp it couldn’t possibly be real. The darkness was clear as day—colors, lines, shadows, more brilliant and defined than he’d ever known could exist, as if he’d been wearing a veil over his eyes for his entire life and someone had yanked it off him, showing him a whole new terrifying world.

  The first person he saw was Rome, standing by the foot of the slab, jaw ticking as he watched him warily. Shaul hovered nearby, peering at Jon with steely eyes. Jon looked down to find himself dressed in a black suit, saturated with blood. Donor bags had been torn up all around him, as if a rabid dog had gotten into them.

  As he took in the sights and sounds, the pieces fell into place, drizzling at first before they became a downpour of comprehension.

  He ran his tongue over his teeth and his spine turned into ice. Fangs. Smooth, long, razor-sharp blades where his human canines had been. He gaped at his bloody hands and they trembled.

  No. No. This couldn’t be real.

  He leveled his eyes with Rome, eyes he knew were the color of obsidian. “What have you done?”

  New York Methodist Hospital

  Brooklyn, New York

  Two years ago

  The automatic glass doors slid open and devoured the stretcher.

  Lawan felt every bump and hitch beneath her as they entered the emergency department, the bright fluorescent lights searing her retinas. Every muscle in her body ached, every square inch of bare skin rubbed raw, and vertigo seized her brain, making the world spin. She closed her eyes and swallowed the bile rising in her throat, nausea constricting her stomach like a vise.

  The drugs were wearing off, leaving her mind fogged and amplifying the pain between her legs. Her teeth chattered as goosebumps marched over her skin.

  Someone threw a warm blanket over her, the IV pole rattling close to her ear. All she could smell was blood, piss and shit, and it was all her own.

  “She’s waking up,” a man said above her.

  “Took enough Narcan,” a woman replied from the foot of the stretcher.

  Two probes blew oxygen into Lawan’s nostrils and both of her inner arms had IVs plugged into them. Her cheek throbbed as blood trickled into her ear.

  A hand patted her shoulder. “Hey there, can you open your eyes?”

  She cracked her eyelids open as acid rushed up her esophagus. Abruptly she sat up and retched onto her own lap. The vomit was dark and clotted, like black jelly, marring the warm white blanket.

  A hand steadied her as a man called, “Can I get a pink bucket and some Zofran here?”

  Lawan gasped for air as tears popped from her eyes. Someone shoved a puke bucket onto her lap and she held onto it for dear life, her heart fluttering against her ribcage like a dying bird. Her stomach roiled as a face came into view, a middle-aged man with dark hair and kind eyes.

  “Are you all right?”

  No. I’ll never be all right.

  “What’s your name?”

  Lawan lay back against the hard mattress as they wheeled her into a room and a blond woman in scrubs yanked the curtain closed. Three people bustled about, hooking her up to monitors and slapping on cuffs and devices of all sorts to her body.

  “It’s okay, honey, you can tell us your name.” The blonde strode over to the bedside, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  “Jane,” Lawan rasped out, her mouth dry and her lips cracked. God, she was so thirsty.

  “Jane,” the man echoed. His kind eyes pinched, but he went along with it anyway. “I’m Dr. Murphy and this is Amy, your nurse. Do you remember what happened to you?”

  The pain continued to ramp up as Lawan’s mind cleared, the wooziness fading into a rip-roaring headache. Her entire pelvis was on fire, a burning hot ball of agony as cramps knifed in her belly. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the puke bucket, her breaths chopping out in shallow gasps.

  “Stop the Narcan and get her some morphine,” Dr. Murphy ordered, resting a hand on her knee. Lawan flinched and he let go, his eyes pinching again.

  “Don’t touch me,” she hissed between breaths.

  Amy pushed four syringes of clear liquid into one of Lawan’s lines, one right after the other.

  Dr. Murphy raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not going to hurt you, Jane. We’re here to help. We found you on the ground outside the ambulance entrance, barely clothed and unconscious. You’ve lost a lot of blood and you’re severely dehydrated. Do you remember what happened?”

  Yes. And she would never forget it.

  “How about this,” he said when she didn’t answer. “How did you get here?”

  Taylon’s face flashed before her eyes, looming over her as he laid her on the ice-cold ground. His eyes as black as the sky behind him, stars glittered within their depths. “Live, little rabbit,” he murmured as he ran the pad of his finger over the wound on her cheek, the vampiric smell of incense invading her nose. “Live to run another day.”

  Lawan shook her head, tears falling faster now as she clenched her jaw to keep it from quivering. “I don’t remember anything.”

  Another male voice behind her rattled off her vitals as Amy hung the next bag of saline on the IV pole beside her. “Open those lines up wide,” Dr. Murphy ordered, still staring at Lawan as if he were trying to see through her.

  “We need to move her onto the bed,” Amy insisted.

  Lawan looked away, down into her puke bucket, and noticed a circle of red blossoming on the blanket between her legs. Horror made her temples throb, her pulse pounding harder.

  Dr. Murphy drew back the curtain and shouted, “Get an OB/GYN down here, now!”

  Another wave of nausea crashed over her, sending a splash of black vomit into the pink bucket.

  “Blood pressure and oh-two sat’s dropping,” the voice behind her warned, alarm lacing his words.

  “I need four units of blood, stat,” Dr. Murphy barked out as he returned to the bedside. “Turn up her oxygen and get her on a non-rebreather. Get the intensivist down here too.” He leveled his dark eyes with her, eyes now filled with solemn determination. “Jane, I need to examine you.”

  “No!” she sputtered, shrinking away from him and hating herself for it. The intern behind her removed the probes from her nostrils and brought a clear plastic mask down on her face. She yelped, shoving his arm away. Terror seized her as a flashback took hold, her head being shoved into a black hood that smelled of oil and death. “Don’t touch me! Not you, not any of you monsters!”

  “Jane, please, I’m trying to help you and I need to see what happened in order to stop the bleeding—”

  “No,” Lawan cried, trying to crawl off the stretcher, sending the puke bucket spilling onto the floor. Pain rose as she fell, but Amy caught her before she hit the tile. The blonde grabbed hold of Lawan’s head, filling her vision with her pretty face.

  “You’re going to die if you don’t let us help you.” The nurse’s words penetrated Lawan’s skull. “Is it okay if I take a look? It’ll just be me and you, no one else. Promi
se.”

  Lawan stared into Amy’s honey brown eyes. She could feel snot running down her nose, dribbling over her aching lips.

  Maybe she should just flash her fangs so they’d kill her.

  “Jane?”

  No longer able to keep her chin from trembling, Lawan slowly nodded.

  Amy loosened her hold, her thumb running across Lawan’s unmarred cheek to wipe a tear away. The nurse’s eyes glistened, as if she too were holding back tears. “It’ll be quick but you’re going to need blood. Is it okay if we transfuse you?”

  Lawan’s stomach churned in response and she nodded again. She needed blood desperately.

  Dr. Murphy stood there, frowning, but he motioned at the intern to leave. Both men walked out of the room, keeping the curtain closed behind them.

  “Okay, honey, lie back and let me put this mask on you,” Amy said as the monitor alarms continued to go off, blaring in every direction. “Just take deep breaths, in and out, fill your lungs with oxygen.”

  The plastic pressed against Lawan’s face as the nurse strapped the mask on. Humid air whooshed into her nose and throat as she breathed deeply. Amy pushed the head of the stretcher down and Lawan went with it, staring at the alabaster ceiling.

  “I’ll listen to your heart first, okay?” Amy’s tone soothed. Lawan could do nothing but numbly focus inward as Amy examined her upper body before moving below her waist. When the nurse pressed on Lawan’s belly, her breath caught and her muscles tensed, pain electrifying every nerve.

  “I’m sorry,” Amy said gently as a sob swelled in Lawan’s throat. “Can you bend your knees for me?”

  Lawan brought her legs up, her thighs swollen and throbbing, keeping her knees locked together. Amy squeezed her hand briefly before moving to the end of the stretcher. Tears flowed like rivers down Lawan’s face, pooling in her ears as the sob expanded to the point where she could no longer hold it.