Traitors (Crooked Fang)

By Carrie Clevenger

Vampire Xan Marcelles and his band, Crooked Fang, have been sitting idle for almost two months when Xan's given a job offer he can't refuse. Only it is not a music gig — it's a multiple hit in a Texas town called Bartlett. Given no details except six names and a location, Xan hits the road. He's always worked alone at this sort of job, but now there's no way but to have Nin riding shotgun. Can Xan take out his marks and keep Nin out of trouble or have the years out of circulation blunted his edge?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carrie Clevenger
• Release date: Sep 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301005550

Carrie Clevenger

Carrie Clevenger landed in the urban fantasy genre when she couldn't decide between horror and humor. When not writing she enjoys listening to music, hanging out with musicians, attending local venues, catching her favorite bands on tour, and obsessing over The Next Big Album release. Carrie resides in Austin, Texas.

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Crooked Fang

Traitors

Carrie Clevenger

Published by Katarr Kanticles Press on Smashwords.

Copyright 2013, Carrie Clevenger. All Rights Reserved.

Acknowledgments

Thanks go out to my husband, Luke, for giving me those few extra hours to scowl at a blank Word document, my editors Nerine and Melissa, my father, people in my present, people in my past and Synde, who gave me the swift kick right where I needed it to get this story done.

In memory of Kathleen. I miss you.

Traitors

Chapter 1

I scanned the bar for my boss, Charlie, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight. It was too early for Bea, my drummer’s wife and Charlie’s backup, to be at work. She came in around nine. I glanced at Nin, who smiled sweetly, as I closed and locked the jukebox. Charlie didn’t seem to notice me dicking around with the music or maybe he was resigned to change. Maybe I’d brought more trouble than he’d ever expected, but he was like a father to me and I worked my ass off for him whenever he requested.

Will you play the new music now? Nin cocked her head, those honey-brown eyes daring me.

Maybe, I said, punching in a few numbers. Yeah, I’d take up her challenge with the new albums I’d just donated.

Almost eight, which was opening time. Nin sat at my favorite table, the one closest to the stage, with her chin propped on her hand, like me fucking with the juke was the most fascinating thing she’d seen all week. Which it could’ve been. We were out in Pinecliffe, barely a blip on the map of Colorado. Regulars stopped by for a daily draft. The larger weekend crowds came in, fed the music box and got into occasional fights. On real special nights, when I couldn’t bust up a brawl, the Sheriff would get called out.

Pale Rider was big enough to host an energetic Crooked Fang gig but not much more. We had a decent amount of business, but ever since we’d lost the singer in a fire last year, the band hadn’t played another show. Transformed from an old vacation lodge into a tavern, Pale Rider drew all types, from yeehaws to yahoos and even kids from Denver, all trolling for more shit to get into.

Charlie came out of his room with a slight shuffle, typical of a man of sixty-nine, and started for the bar which took up most of the far wall. The juke chose Bad Rain by Slash with Myles Kennedy for the first song. Nin danced a little in her chair and tapped her fingers on the table top. Charlie straightened his fedora and smiled. He liked having her around. Her presence brightened the place, no question.

Me and Darrell, the Texas guitarist from Crooked Fang, lived upstairs. Darrell worked at a pizza place for spare change and kept his weight healthy on free beer while I kept up around the bar. I couldn’t exactly work too many other kinds of jobs, having a slight case of catching on fire in the sun. The lake out back provided a spot to wander off to or take a swim, which I kind of enjoyed. Other times, I’d go up to the roof for quiet or privacy, sometimes both. But there wasn’t all too much need for privacy, at least the have-that-sort-of-company kind, since Nin had moved in.

Nin left her own kind at The Core after Jack slaughtered her sole sireling, Krit. She’d run to me for some reason and had just kind of stayed. Her presence kept me on edge because of the outright betrayal she’d shown when she’d tried to get me arrested in New Mexico. Charlie gave her the room at the end of the hall, closest to the roof stairs, thinking she’d want her space for her lady things, as he put it. But Nin was no lady.

Although we were both bloodsuckers, she was a step further by being one of the Nesferata. Nesfers could eat and drink, like normal people. They were alive but still jonesed for blood. Their fangs retracted and only came down for business – a useful trait. My fangs were permanently in the on position, not to mention pretty fucking big.

I passed off the fangs as some stupid gimmick, and with a band name like Crooked Fang, was believed. Since everyone assumed I was antisocial and lazy, my sleeping days wasn’t questioned much. I could still do stuff indoors, but was kind of bitchy at being awake during anti-vampire hours. The sun wasn’t too much of an issue, unless it was on me. Or reflected at me. Light coming in through the windows wasn’t fatal, just bright. A nice, dark bar made the perfect home.

I was patient when it came to preying, had to be. My height was intimidating in the first place at six-foot-five, not to mention I looked like the kind of long-haired metal head found in a bunch of other thrown-together bands. Women either crawled up my leg or figured me for an asshole. Biting was tricky, since I didn’t feed during sex, at least when hungry. I had subtler ways of getting what I needed and, in my twenty-five years as a bloodsucker, had never been caught.

Tool’s Jimmy played next. Charlie shook his head as he unlocked the door for business. I took a chair next to Nin instead of across from her so I could see the door and keep my gaze from taking a nose-dive into her cleavage. That evening she’d left her hair loose in dark waves and wore a sleeveless black shirt with a low neckline. Despite my misgivings about her, she was still a gorgeous...woman. But her being there begged trouble from her sire, Jack. I wouldn’t let her close, though I trusted her to hang out in my room, to the point of sliding in next to me in my bed as I slept. If she wanted me dead, I’d been that way long before she invaded my home. She’d been Jack’s favorite at one time, from what she said, and just as well trained to fight as any other Nesferata.

Nin wrinkled her nose as I pulled out my cigarettes and opened the box. I don’t know why I smoked; it was a dumb habit. I lit the thing, met her glare in a moment of confusion, then snorted smoke.

What?

She looked away. Those cigarettes make you stink.

I shrugged and tapped my smoke in the ashtray. Nobody said you had to sit here and smell it.

Pale Rider’s telephone interrupted us, but Charlie caught it by the second ring. Nin rolled her eyes, folded her arms under her breasts and crossed her legs to swing one foot in agitation. A muscle in her jaw tensed, but she didn’t say anything more about my smoking. Hell, the bar would be full of it by closing time.

I was supposed to be doing something more productive, and I was pretty sure she had her own