Blood Lust

By Markie Madden

Lacey is awakened by a chilling phone call. Her boyfriend, a Vampire, wakes alone in his home, covered in blood, with no memory of what happened. It looks as if he's violated the Undead Oath, and fed on a human.

While he's in custody, more reports come in from all over the city. Other Vampires, covered in human blood, know nothing about what they've done. Lacey and her team struggle to find the person responsible for framing Vampires for murder.

Can the Undead Unit put a stop to the worst hate crime in Dallas' history, and can Lacey overcome accusing the man she loves of homicide?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Metamorph Publishing
• Release date: Oct 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311195418

Markie Madden

Markie Madden, born Marguerite Malone on August 19, 1975 in Midland, Texas, is the author of Once Upon a Western Way, Keeping a Backyard Horse, and My Butterfly Cancer. She grew up in Flushing, Michigan, where she began to write stories when she was a teenager. She married in 1994 and now has 2 teenage daughters. She has 3 rescue dogs and a horse whom she enjoys spending time with. She is also a cancer survivor, battling leukemia (AML) in 2013-2014. She now resides in a small country town in Missouri, where she continues to write. She hopes that her newest book, Keeping a Backyard Horse, will help prevent accidental mistreatment of horses, and help educate horse owners in taking care of their horse even on a budget. She raised and trained her horse Athena. In 2014, she founded Metamorph Publishing as a way to self-publish her books, and she's now working with other indie authors as well. Her three books Once Upon a Western Way, Keeping a Backyard Horse, and My Butterfly Cancer are all available in print and for e-readers, and My Butterfly Cancer is also out in audiobook format. She can also be found on GoodReads, Scribophile, Shelfari, and Wattpad, as well as many other social media such as Twitter, Pinterest, Tumblr, LinkedIn, Facebook, and more.

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Blood Lust

The Undead Unit 3

Markie Madden

This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places and incidents are entirely fictional and are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, (or Undead!), locations, or incidents is coincidental.

© 2016 by Metamorph Publishing and Markie Madden

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016901309

To request a digital autograph, visit: Authorgraph.

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means- electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles—without the express written permission of the author or publisher.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without by monetary gain, is investigated by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and is punishable by up to five (5) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. I’m not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

ISBN# 978-1539377122

Smashwords ISBN# 978-1311195418

Published in Fisk, MO USA by Metamorph Publishing

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Books in The Undead Unit Series

Fang and Claw (Undead Unit 1)

Souls of the Reaper (Undead Unit 2)

Blood Lust (Undead Unit 3)

Siren Song (Undead Unit 4)--coming soon!

The Undead Unit Series

Over a hundred years in the future, it’s a world where supernatural beings live and work among humans. Of course, the government has forced them to take the Undead Oath in order to gain citizenship; they must not prey on humans for food. They’re often given tasks in jobs suited for their species, but just as among other minorities, they must struggle to prove themselves.

As if dealing with racial prejudice isn’t enough, there is also a criminal element, just as there is with any group of beings living in society. The Dallas Police Department has introduced an elite new squad made up of Undead officers and detectives. This unit is dedicated to solving crimes involving Immortals. Headed by veteran Lieutenant Lacey Anderson, can the Undead Unit overcome its obstacles, both internal and external, or will it be doomed to failure?

This book is dedicated to the cast and crew of long-running television series Supernatural. You guys and gals, both on the stage and behind the scenes, do a great job in bringing to life paranormal or mythical monsters, and you are all a great inspiration to me! Keep up the fantastic work, and I can’t wait to find out what’s in store for the Winchester brothers next!

~~ Your #1 Fan!

Prologue

The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living. ~~Cicero

Dimly, the man gained awareness of his surroundings. His brain was in a fog; at the moment, he had no idea who he was, much less where he was. Nothing seemed immediately apparent, except for the fact that he was alone. How he knew with such deep certainty that he was alone remained a mystery. He felt as if he were waking from a long, enforced sleep. There was no sense of urgency or panic in his mind, only confusion.

He was prone on a hard wooden surface, his cheek pressed against the coolness. He became aware of a sharp coppery smell, a scent that, for some reason unknown to him, tightened his throat with a sense of anticipation and caused his stomach to growl. The room seemed cool to him, at least he assumed it was; the wood, which he now realized made up a floor, felt no different in temperature than his bare skin. At least, he knew he was indoors. But indoors where? His perception didn’t seem to extend much beyond a small radius of the area in which he lay.

Slowly, he regained the ability to focus his eyes, and he could see by a dim light that he was in a small bedroom, lying with his back against the bed, with a tangle of white-hot sheets spilling over onto the floor, both under and on top of him. He was momentarily confused as to why he would be on the floor rather than in the bed; it looked to be a far more comfortable option. But when he tried to get to his feet, he discovered he was unable to move.

That fact didn’t seem to bother him; he was content to lie where he was rather than attempt to get up again. But the strange scent permeating the room somehow caused a craving in him, and his entire body clenched with need. He saw one arm stretched out beside him, palm up, pale skin against mahogany wood, fingers curved slightly in relaxation. Distantly, he studied his first finger, as if through the eyes of a stranger. He concentrated as best he could with the clouds of fog flitting in and out of his mind.

He strained in silence, diverting all his will to the first joint of the finger, and a slight movement in the hand rewarded his efforts. So, he was not paralyzed, after all, but he still didn’t understand why he couldn’t move. Sensations were finally beginning to creep in; he realized he was stiff from having been on such a hard surface for what must have been a long passage of time. Slowly, he worked the finger until his entire hand began to move, and then worked up the arm until he was able to bend the elbow. Eventually, he was able to discover that his other arm was stretched out behind him in a manner that was becoming more than mildly uncomfortable.

He was finally able to get all his limbs back in working order, and he carefully sat up, taking in the room with a glance. The lights, sensing his motion, rose up to a level slightly above dim, and he clearly focused his eyes. Nothing seemed familiar to him, and yet, he did not have the feeling of being in a strange or unfamiliar place. Besides the rumpled bed, there was a small wooden night table, upon which sat a heavily decorated lamp, and he recognized this was the source for the small amount of light in the room.

Dark-colored draperies hung along one wall, behind which he assumed would be a window. A tall chest of drawers sat next to a closed door, with a pair of smaller doors next to that. These, he knew, should lead to a closet, though his mind was so muddled he wasn’t sure of what use a closet would be. The room itself was paneled in dark oak, a color matching the deep tones of the draperies as well as the thick comforter hanging in a rumpled heap off the foot of the bed.

His clothing felt stiff, and he glanced down at himself, taking in the deep red stains, slowly fading to brown, spread like a river all down the front of him. He was curiously detached; for a moment, the implications of the colored stain did not reach through the haze in his mind. When the fog finally lifted, and he could think rationally again, his blood, had it been possible, would have run as cold as ice. In that moment, Marcell Dilorenzo knew he was in serious trouble. For he was a Vampire covered in human blood, a clear violation of the Undead Oath, and had no memory of what might have happened.

1

The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend. ~~Henri Bergson

What the hell? Lacey Anderson sat up quickly, slapping at the phone buzzing on her night table. It was supposed to be her night off. She picked up the phone and answered it with the swipe of a thumb, not even seeing the number on her called ID. What? She growled in a low tone.

Lacey. The fear in his voice made her take notice. You’ve got to get over here. I have a… situation.

Marcell wasn’t a personality to fear much, so the tone of his voice caused all the sensitive hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. What is it?

There was a moment of silence before the psychologist answered. I—I just woke up on the floor in my room. I— He cleared his throat before continuing. I’m covered in blood.

What did you do? For a minute, she thought he injured himself somehow, though she couldn’t think of anything he could possibly be doing in the middle of the night that would cause such an injury.

I don’t remember a thing after dinner last night. I have no idea what’s happened.

She was instantly alert. Stay put. And I mean don’t move. Don’t change, don’t clean up, don’t even get off the floor.

I’m already off the floor, Lacey. I had to get up to reach my phone.

Well, don’t go anywhere else. I mean it. I’ll be there in ten. Without waiting for a response, she hung up the phone and bolted for the closet. Morgan, the brindle, mixed-breed dog she rescued from a dog fighting ring, jumped off the bed and took off toward the first floor, presumably to let himself into the backyard via the pet door. Kyra, she called over her shoulder, activating her phone’s virtual assistant. Call Colton.

Calling Colton, the computer voice responded.

For a moment, she wondered why she felt compelled to replace the default generic name on her assistant app with her birth name, from when she was a young child growing up in 17th century Greece. The phone connected the call, then rang several times, giving her time to pull a soft cashmere sweater over her head. Then, her partner’s sullen voice answered with a snarl. Somebody better be dead.

I’m not sure. Lacey pulled on a pair of slacks. Marcell just called me. He’s got a situation.

Colton’s voice instantly became serious. What sort of situation?

I don’t know much. Can you meet me at his place?

If I knew where his place was, I could.

She gave her partner the address. I’ll be there in ten.

Want me to call Kazz?

In her haste, and her worry about Marcell, Lacey almost forgot about the newest member of the Undead Unit team. She sighed. I don’t know yet if it’s really a case or not. But, you might as well.

All right, I’ll pick her up on the way. Give us about 20.

See you there.

Lacey hung up the phone, slipping on a pair of boots. She ran lightly down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Her dog sat at the bottom landing, looking up at her with alert and hopeful eyes. She crouched down to the animal. I gotta go, boy. I’ll be back soon. She brushed his velvety-soft fur, and gave him a pat on the head. He followed her to the kitchen, where she took a box of treats from a high cupboard. She discovered early in their relationship that the dog was adept at opening some of the lower doors, and she was forced to keep his food and treats where he couldn’t reach them. Lacey took out a rawhide chew, handed it to Morgan, then left the house, setting the alarm on her way out.

She had no idea what she would find when she arrived at Marcell’s, but she knew there was no way it could be a good thing. Could the man she was dating have violated the Undead Oath? She didn’t know him all that well, but Lacey had a hard time believing him capable of such a thing.

He hung up the phone, noticing that Becca already slipped back into sleep. He crept about the room as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb his wife, who was still waking up during the night to feed the kids. He dressed by the light of his phone screen, and wrote a note to Becca, which he placed on the dresser. When he was ready to leave, Colton brushed a hand across his wife’s golden-red hair and kissed the top of her head. Even though she might not consciously remember him whispering that he loved her, her innate Werewolf senses would pick up on his intent.

What the hell is Marcell tangled up in? He wondered as he got in his truck. I tried to tell Lacey she shouldn’t get involved with him. He put the truck in gear and pulled out of his parking lot. Colton was only trying to watch out for his partner, and honorary pack sister, so he was naturally protective of her. His ancestors left Lacey orphaned five hundred years ago, a fact now an embarrassment to his pack, and he felt a sense of responsibility to take care of her now. Though he knew she’d be royally pissed if he ever told her so.

It was his first time visiting the Dallas Police Department’s top profiler at home, and he raised his voice to activate his phone’s virtual assistant. Fido, directions. In a fit of rage when first setting up his device, he accidentally named it, and was unable to figure out how to change it. He smiled in amusement, remembering how his wife laughed at him each time he used the assistant. When the phone beeped, Colton recited the address Lacey gave him. Then, he told it to call Kazz.

Calling Alice, the phone’s mechanical and feminine replied.

No, dammit, cancel. Cancel! He heard the click of the line going dead, then tried again. Dial Kazz. He annunciated slowly.

Calling Kazz.

The phone rang three times before a sleepy voice answered. Moss here.

Kazz, it’s Colton.

What happened? The young officer suddenly sounded alert.

Not really sure, he answered, looking both ways as he drove through an intersection with a flashing yellow traffic light. Lacey called, said something about Marcell having a problem. She wanted me to meet her there. I’m on my way to pick you up.

Okay, Kazz responded. I’ll be ready as soon as you get here.

She hung up without another word, and Colton drove to the young officer’s apartment on autopilot. He was accustomed to getting called out in the middle of the night, but it was something he would never like. Especially once his nine-month-old kids were finally weaned, and Becca could sleep through the night again. Colton hated to disturb her when his phone rang, especially since he was a heavy sleeper and kept it on the dresser instead of his night table. She never complains, though, he thought as he made the turn into Kazz’s apartment complex.

He didn’t even have time to bring the truck to a full stop before the energetic young officer opened his cab door and hopped in next to him. What on Earth do you think is going on? She asked without preamble.

Don’t have a clue, Colton replied, putting the truck in gear again. But from the sound in Lacey’s voice, she was scared.

The Lieutenant, scared? Kazz sounded as if she couldn’t believe it. You must be joking.

No joke, kid. Colton was sober.

Do you suppose Doctor D. got himself in trouble with a client? Maybe a bad guy he testified against?

Seems like great minds do think alike. His comment was wry.

What do you mean? She sounded confused.

I was just thinking along those lines myself. Wonder if Lacey’s thought of it, yet. She sounded… He trailed off, not sure how to continue. She sounded terrified, and I don’t think there’s much in this world to scare her that badly. What he said aloud was, Let’s just say she didn’t sound like herself, and leave it at that.

Well, whatever it is, we’re a team, and we gotta stick together like a team.

You got that right, kid. Colton reached out to her in the darkness and they fist bumped.

Lacey didn’t even remember the drive to Marcell’s home. It felt as if she left her house in one moment, arriving at his the very next. She couldn’t take the time to think about that now. She jumped from the car, grabbing the shoulder bag that carried her ID, phone, tablet, and gloves, as well as various evidence collection materials, and took the stairs on the wide marble porch two at a time. She stopped herself just before barging into the Victorian home, pulling her weapon from its shoulder harness. Her breath misted in the cool winter morning. I have no idea what’s happened. I should be cautious.

She flattened herself against the side of the house, glancing in two darkened windows, but not seeing anything amiss. Silently, Lacey turned the knob, not surprised to find the door unlocked. She assumed he’d turned off the security system as well. Damn him, I told him not to do anything else! She eased into the door, moving with the stillness that only a Vampire could, not bothering to turn on the lights. Her night vision was excellent, and she was already familiar enough with Marcell’s home to navigate it. Lacey made her way up the stairs, her booted feet making no noise on the plush, deep burgundy carpeting.

Nothing appeared to be out of place, so she called out softly. Marcell?

His rich, cultured voice greeted her. In here.

Lacey saw the warm glow of the lamp then, and found him in the bedroom, sitting on the polished hardwood floor. She took in the scene with a critical glance: bed sheets and comforter spilling off the bed, the dark pool of blood, with a curious oval-shaped void in the middle, on the floor near him, and his bloody clothing. The room looked as if he had been in bed; why then is he fully dressed? She holstered her weapon, and opened her shoulder bag for a pair of latex gloves.

I didn’t want to spread possible evidence to the bed, he explained, spreading his hands to indicate the floor. When I woke, I was there. He pointed to the void. I don’t know how long I was there. I was very stiff and couldn’t move, at first. He cleared his throat. In fact, it may have been an hour or more, that I tried to regain control of my body.

What’s the last thing you remember? It was a demand. Lacey began taking photographs of the blood stain.

I told you. For just a moment, a hint of fear crept into the psychologist’s voice. I remember having dinner, and nothing more until I woke up.

Did you eat out, or have something here?

Actually, I dined at Platelets. It was Lacey’s favorite restaurant, a high-end eatery catering to Vampires, one stocking a variety of rare animal blood.

How did you pay?

I used my debit card.

Lacey made a mental note of that. Then what?

I returned home around eight, and then I started watching the game.

What game?

Well, the Stars, of course. They’re making a good run for the Stanley Cup this year.

Lacey wasn’t a sports person, though hockey was one she could tolerate, so she said, I’ll take your word for it. She began snapping photos of Marcell and his stained clothing, and the otherwise undisturbed room. Who won? When he didn’t answer, she turned to look at him. Marcell?

His eyes had the unfocused look of someone trying to recall something important. I don’t remember.

Was there anything else on that you might have wanted to watch more than the game?

No, not this close to the end of the season. In any case, the unit will be able to tell you what channel I was watching and what time I turned it off.

Yes, we’ll look at that. Just then, Lacey heard the sound of her name being called. She stuck her head out the bedroom door and said, Up here.

Colton and Kazz bolted up the stairs, then stopped in shock as they entered the bedroom. Colton found his voice first. What the hell happened?

Not sure yet, Lacey replied. Detective, will you collect Marcell’s clothing for evidence?

Um, of course. Colton turned to Marcell, an apologetic look on his face. The psychologist beckoned him to a walk-in closet, shutting the door behind them.

Kazz, put on a pair of gloves. I want you to test this blood with an ABA HemaTrace.

The young officer was confused. But we already know there’s blood, she pointed out.

Yeah, but I want to know if this is human or animal blood. If Marcell’s just spilled some of his dinner, we won’t need to do anything else here.

Oh, right, sure. The young woman recovered quickly, and bent to pull the kit from Lacey’s bag. The test could make the distinction between human and animal blood in less than ten minutes. Once Lacey saw that Kazz had everything under control, she went downstairs to the kitchen.

It was nearly spotless, as Lacey expected. The dishwasher was blinking to indicate the wash cycle was complete, and there was only a single glass in the sink. With a gloved hand, she brought the glass to her nose and sniffed. She could detect no evidence of blood, leading her to believe Marcell drank a glass of water at some point during the night. She peeked in the garbage can, finding nothing of interest. Then she wandered to the living room, where she picked up the remote control from its place on the arm of an over-stuffed recliner. Turning the TV on, she noted the device was still tuned to the local major sports channel. Activating the menu, Lacey saw that the TV was turned off at almost 2200 hours, about the time the game