Thief of Souls

By Jaycee Clark

Soul Thieves are real. Francisco Beauxchamp knows that fact all too well. Devon McClane wishes she didn’t have to work with the playboy vamp, but they’ll do whatever they must to stop the evil witch from devouring more immortals.  

This short story was previously published in a multi-author anthology.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jaycee Clark
• Release date: Apr 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533725769

Book preview

Chapter 1

The man tied to the bed no longer fought. His wide stare no longer held distain of her. The eyes didn’t hold fear either. Instead they held…

Well, nothing, did they? Flat eyes, once bright blue, now were a dull slate, like the north Atlantic before a storm.

He was dead. Dead as could be.

Another immortal down. Yes. Poor bastard.

She breathed deep and tasted his power she’d consumed. The ashy taste on her tongue called to her. Like a perfectly chilled vodka.

She licked her lips, tasting the sweet copper of blood.

Her heels clicked as she walked to the mirror hung on the wall and checked her reflection. Just there a smudge at the corner of her mouth. Odd. She dipped finger in the flute of champagne and rubbed gently at the smear of blood.

Her blue eyes sparkled brightly; she could see it. She pressed her nail to her cheek and knew her skin was better than it had been. All wonderful side effects. The youthful glow was one she loved and enjoyed, but it was hardly the reason she did what she did. Well, not the only reason.

Youthful beauty was not why she hunted whom she hunted.

Why she killed those she killed.

Killing immortals allowed her to gain more power, and who didn’t want more power? She would always want more power. She’d known this secret for a very long time. Though it had only been recently she’d been set free long enough to kill her captor. Not her fault the warlock had been an idiot.

Once freed there was no stopping her. None. She had had too long to plan and plot in the dungeon in France, all but walled up and forgotten.

She’d found her copies of the old texts she’d hidden in an old cathedral in Scotland. The flagstones were not easy to move, but she did it, even in her weakened state. She’d managed to not only gain the books, the texts, but her box had still been filled with bottles containing precious herbs. Useless after so long, but they’d been there. Been ready and waiting for her.

Once she’d gained her strength, she’d settled on where she’d hunt. The world had changed so much in the last several centuries. Things moved so quickly now, and strangely it was to her advantage. In some places she had more power than others. There was still plenty of power in the old world, and some of those allowed her power bursts, like a bright light going on to her soul.

When she saw a vampire in London, she knew he was hers. She seduced him, and enjoyed every delicious moment of it and of him.

She smiled at the memory of the rush of power.

Let the heroin addicts chase their fix; she had her own dragon to hunt.

She gazed at the bed and chuckled. She’d just slayed one.

There were so few dragon shifters left in the world. She’d thought about keeping him alive longer, just to see how much power she could gain off of him. If she could train him.

Break him.

Own him.

It had only taken three days for her to realize that would never, ever happen. His body had glowed hot ready to shift and destroy. Had it not been for her dampening spell to contain his powers, well… She might as well have been tied to the stake and torched. The man heated up the angrier he’d become.

She walked back over to the bed, her heels clicking softly on the hardwood floors.

A shame really, she told him patting his cold skin and traced the mark she left on him. We could have had a lot of fun, you and I. If you’d only listened. Only bowed to me. But you didn’t. These are the consequences.

She turned and walked out of the room, whistling as she climbed the stairs to the main level of his house.

He’d been dumb enough to think she was harmless, to think she was just a quick fuck for the night.

Men are so predictable. Immortals more so. At least the women make me work for it.

Lure them in with a smile and a glance and bam! Then, they were at her mercy. Their power became hers. It didn’t matter where they were—in a hotel room, in someone’s house, outside—she didn’t need some sacred place. She had preferences, yes. In the woods was her favorite place to transfer power, to devour souls. She actually preferred to take them in nature. There was often another layer of power she inhaled when she took them in such a primal fashion. Sadly, it seemed transfers rarely worked out that way anymore.

Once upon a time the world was nothing but nature. Now she, along with most others, enjoyed her comforts. And her shoes. She was not a hiking boot kind of girl. Give her a pair of designer heels and a let’s-have-a-good-time dress and she could rope in all.

In his entryway she checked her reflection again in the mirror and sighed.

Time to move onto the next.

She just hoped she’d found the one she was really searching for. She thought she’d found him before, but it was the wrong vampire. When she did locate him, the bastard would pay for all the hard work she had to do to regain her powers.

Chapter 2

Bourbon Street filled with lights and a rainbow of sounds. Jazz swirled with shouts while bass thumped from another club across the street. People were out in