Shadows of Dawn

By Jane Timm Baxter

Lila Bishop is a clever vampire on a mission to destroy a deadly immortal Ebondrakry. But she is not only the hunted, she is also the hunted. She is the victim of a wicked game of cat mouse. Who will win?

• Language: English
• Publisher: White Cat
• Release date: Mar 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781958557341

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

His Newborn Scream

LILA BISHOP WALKED down the sidewalk, backpack slung over her right shoulder. She breathed the crisp night air with such enjoyment she thought she might get drunk. The backpack held only the bloody shirt and skirt she’d worn earlier in the evening during her last meal. She watched the violent encounter with the mugger pass before her eyes like a translucent movie.

The mugger had blue eyes and a lopsided grin. He was so confident in his ability to physically intimidate his victims he didn’t bother with a disguise. When Lila didn’t respond to his threats, he grabbed her by the arm and tried to slam her against the alley wall. She stood unmoved, arching an eyebrow and slowly shaking her head as if dealing with the folly of a child. Furious, he punched her in the face. He cried out as his wrist fractured, but Lila’s head didn’t even rock back. Her mouth curled into a wicked smile right before she slammed her palm against his chest so hard it lifted him off his feet. The mugger fell backward with a grunt, caught his balance and turned to run. Lila dropped her backpack and lunged at him, the impact slamming him to the ground.

She silenced his newborn scream by forcing her mouth over his, kissing him so savagely his lips tore and bled. Despite the pain in his wrist, his body reacted without his conscious choice and his hips jutted upward as Lila fumbled with the buttons of his jeans. Confusion and pain mingled with an insane lust and he moaned as she pulled his erection out from his underwear.

She linked into his mind with her own, and relished his chaotic emotions of frenzied violence, lust and disbelief. Lila crouched on top of him, her skirt hiked up and panties nonexistent as she hammered her hips down on him. Still linked in, she experienced the encounter from his point of view, blurring the lines of her own personality with his. The terror and forbidden pleasure of being raped violently by her made him wonder if he was dreaming. But when she suddenly grabbed the top of his head with both hands and viciously wrenched it to one side, he saw the coming night of terror. Her mouth opened, he saw the glint of her fangs and he dropped into blackness. She severed the psychic connection as she bit into his neck, gnawing on his flesh as she gulped the hot, spurting blood. She stayed on him, clasping him close until his death spasms ended.

The movie playing in her mind now over, Lila sighed and shifted her backpack to her other shoulder. Even though she had risked someone seeing her, it’d been a satisfying kill. She was full and her mouth still sang with the metallic taint of the mugger’s blood. Now she had the remaining night to enjoy with Max.

She turned the corner, her ears suddenly filling with a buzzing sound. It was the second time she’d heard it that night, yet Lila couldn’t find the source and became irritated. The emotion vanished when her eyes zeroed in on a crowd of people standing outside her apartment. Lila stood for a moment, her gaze narrowing. The crowd was excited. The blue lights from three police cars spiraled in her head. She broke into a run toward home.

Oh no. Oh, God, no. Don’t fucking do this to me.

She neared the apartment stoop when the crowd parted and allowed two men to exit and shuffle to a waiting van. They pushed a gurney, and on that gurney was a black body bag.

If Lila had a heartbeat, it would have skipped.

The mesmerized crowd jostled and pushed at the two men. One lost his grip on the gurney. It toppled to the ground with a sickening thud, followed by screams from the onlookers as the body bag slid off and hit the ground. Lila froze as a head rolled out of the body bag and thudded on the sidewalk. Though coated with blood, she knew it belonged to Max.

Lila’s vision began to fail her. She quickly turned and walked away. She wanted to run, but knew better than to attract attention. Her thoughts raced in a million directions, but she forced herself to concentrate on what was important.

There is nothing in the apartment to identify me. Yes, I’ve got some clothes in there, but no identification. No pictures. Nothing to tie me to Max.

Lila’s body shook. Panic struck her, her ribcage constricting in response, but she kept on walking for three more blocks before finally stopping to lean against a building.

How could this happen? Who would do this? She dropped the backpack, putting her hands over her face. Max ... can’t die. It’s not possible. For fuck’s sake, a vampire doesn’t necessarily die when his head is cut off!

She forced herself to calm down.

I need to think. What do I do? They have to be taking him to a morgue, but which one? And how the hell am I going to get him out of there?

Her mind filled with questions, Lila barely registered the buzzing noise suddenly surrounding her. She didn’t look up until she heard a few odd squeaks.

A hummingbird hovered over her head. It was unlike any she’d ever seen. It was completely white, except for its red eyes, a red beak and tiny, red feet. The last time she saw a hummingbird, it was 1930 something, and that had been during the day.

What the hell is an albino hummingbird doing out at night?

She watched it for a moment, slightly amazed and then shooed it away with both hands.

Get out of here!

The hummingbird dodged, flying left, then quickly flitting right. It dropped down a few inches, then came up sharply to the left and latched onto Lila’s right index finger. Lila froze.

The hummingbird cocked its head and looked at her, its crimson claws wrapped tightly around her finger. Annoyed, Lila shook her hand to get rid of it. She was dumbfounded when the hummingbird held on for the ride. As soon as she stopped moving her hand, the tiny bird lightly pecked at her finger. It was obvious the peck was meant as punishment.

What the hell…?

Lila was about to shake her hand again, when a siren caught her attention. She looked down the sidewalk and saw that the crowd in front of her apartment had dispersed. Two police cars remained.

The coroner’s van was gone.

Goddamnit! she cursed. Where the hell did they go?

She looked back at the hummingbird attached to her finger. It was preening its feathers. Lila lifted her hand so it was level with her eyes and addressed the tiny creature.

You, she said ferociously, need to get the fuck off me and fly away somewhere. I have things to do.

The hummingbird turned its head toward her as soon as she spoke. Now that it seemed she was finished, it went back to attending to its feathers. Grunting, Lila put her left hand up to cup the bird so she could pull it off her finger. The hummingbird was not amused.

It made a sound like a squawking parrot, beating its feathers against her hand and launching off her finger. After a flurry of white feathers, Lila no longer saw the creature.

Finally, she grumbled, looking back at her apartment. She tried to remember if the coroner’s van had a name painted on the side, but all she saw in her mind was Max’s head. Fuck. I’m going to have to go to every funeral home and county morgue within a three-county radius. How the hell am I going to do that?

Hatches Morgue, whispered a voice in her ear. Go to Hatches Morgue.

Her eyes widening, Lila reached up to check her ear. She pulled her finger back quick when she felt a pinprick against the second knuckle. There was a rustling sound accompanied by something pulling the hair at the back of her neck.

The hummingbird, having left her finger, was currently nesting in her long, blond hair. Lila fought the urge to flip her head upside down and rake her fingers through her hair to dislodge the hummingbird. After all, the damn thing had spoken to her.

Hatches Morgue? she repeated.

Yes, responded the voice. Go to Hatches Morgue.

CHAPTER TWO

Max the Immortal

LILA HAD NO time to question whispering hummingbirds, as the night was half over. Hatches Morgue was across town, so close to the outskirts that it almost wasn’t even a part of the county. She didn’t dare use her car, which was parked outside the apartment building and, more than likely, watched by the cops. It was going to be a long trek across town and Lila was not a fan of exercise. She left her backpack, as it was now meaningless to her, and started jogging across the street. She wanted to be a few blocks away from the scene before she began running.

You better be right, she muttered to the talking, albino hummingbird as it curled into a ball in her hair.

I guess it’s finally happened, she thought. I have lost my mind. Fucking talking hummingbirds …

Lila jogged for a mile before she started running. The further she ran, the less populated the landscape became. This was good because she was now running faster than most humans could ever move. She was so preoccupied with what had happened to Max she didn’t notice that there were no more streetlights lining the road.

He can’t be dead. Max was an immortal. He may’ve never admitted it, but it’d become pretty obvious to her. He was also a telepath; not exactly the easiest person to sneak up on. But now there was a void where his presence once lingered.

The thought brought her to an abrupt halt. She turned slowly, her eyes closed, and tried to sense Max. She took a deep breath.

The sensation was there, distant and broken, but still electric. Max was still alive. The slight tingle in her bones told her that she was going in the right direction. Renewed hope filled her and she resumed running. As she ran, her shirt collar chafed against the claw marks on her neck, causing her to recall that she had a castaway hummingbird along for the ride. She quickly swept the talking creature out of her thoughts in order to focus on Max. It was critical to see him in her mind and feed the link she had with him in order to strengthen it and, she prayed, follow it all the way to the true immortal she’d spent a lifetime hunting. Having found him, she was damned if she was going to let a little thing like decapitation stand in the way of keeping him.

Is this some sort of punishment? She wondered. Is it karma in action for the sex I had tonight? Lila frowned. I’m not sure karma works that quickly. Max probably knew what I was going to do before I did it.

A crushing suspicion thundered through her. Instead of making her freeze, the thought caused her to increase speed.

Holy fuck! What if there really wasn’t anyone else with Max tonight? What if he did it to himself? What if this is all part of some sick fucking game designed to punish me?

It’s true. It’s true, whispered the hummingbird. You are learning. You are on the verge of it all.

On the verge of what? Lila wondered. God damn him. If he’s pulled a fucking fake death on me, I’m going to kill him!

How are you going to do that? asked the hummingbird. Turn left now. You are going to miss it.

Lila obeyed the direction and was surprised to see Hatches Morgue nestled at the end of the dirt road. Somehow, she had managed to travel twelve miles in a little less than an hour.

As she neared the morgue, she slowed her pace considerably. First walking, then tiptoeing, Lila made her way to the one lit window. She crouched and listened. Two dark-colored cars were parked a few feet away from her. One of them still radiated heat. Having lost her sensitivity to temperature when she was Changed, she relied on her heightened ability to see such things with her eyes instead of her skin. The engine’s warmth was not the only thing she was sensing. Although she could not see him, Max was somewhere close by.

********

The muffled voice of a man reached her ears, and Lila strained to understand it. Slowly, she reached up and put her fingernails on the window. With a quick flick of her wrist, she scratched a circle into the glass and pushed on it. The tiny circle of cut glass fell inward, making a slight clink as it hit the floor. Lila cringed at the sound and hoped no one inside heard it. The voice, now clear, continued speaking without pause. Lila tilted her ear to the hole in the windowpane.

The police say they found DNA evidence a few blocks away from the crime scene, a man was saying. I don’t know the details, of course, but I would imagine that they’ll get the suspect soon.

I’m sure they will, answered a second male voice. This one sounded deeper, distinguished… and oddly familiar. But as Mr. Kerrby’s representative, he continued, I must insist that his wishes be fulfilled.

Sir, came the terse reply, the police are depending on me for forensic evidence. How can I do my job if you take the body away?

What forensic evidence do you still need to gather? The body has been identified, the cause of death is clear, and you have DNA samples, photographs, and the murder weapon, the other man argued. In accordance with the deceased’s religious faith, he must be buried before sunrise.

What the hell? Lila thought. Max didn’t have a religious faith. Who the fuck is this character, anyway?

Mr. Collins, the forensic investigator sighed, I don’t understand. There’s no way the body can even be prepared for burial in that amount of time. Not to mention that I could not only lose my job, but go to jail for disposing of evidence and obstruction. I understand about the deceased wishes, but I can’t break the law.

As I explained, it is the final wish of Mr. Kerrby, and his right, that he is not to be embalmed. His faith dictates that he is not even to be buried in clothing, or in any container other than a wooden coffin. Collins paused. I realize these requests may seem unusual to you, but they are completely within the law. I must insist on taking Mr. Kerrby to be buried at the location of his choice. I will deal with the police should it come to that, which I assure you that it will not. Your job is in no peril, and I am … prepared to compensate you for this inconvenience.

At the sudden halt of speech, Lila heard a very faint rustling; the sound of paper unfolding. She wondered how many hundred-dollar bills Collins fanned at the conflicted man who stood before him.

I will give you time to … affix his head to his body, but then I will be taking him to his final resting place. Is this clear?

Lila could feel intimidation projecting from Collins as a psychic force. Without even seeing him, she knew that he was obviously not what he appeared to be to the forensic investigator. But what is he? Who is he? She had no answers.

While the poor investigator mumbled something in reply, Lila focused on her connection with Max. The sensation of his presence was stronger now, since she was so close to his body, and that told her that he could be revived. All she needed to do was find out where his body would be taken, and then she would bring him back to life. She was fairly confident that resurrection was a task she could accomplish, even though she had never done it before.

As she heard Collins give his goodbye, Lila drew back to the corner of the building. Collins came out of the morgue and walked to his car. At the driver’s side door, he paused, looked around for a few moments, and then finally entered the vehicle. Lila did not move at all. She did not blink. She did not even think as Collins started up his car and slowly drove away.

Lila was in a state of shock. It was too dark for her to see what Collins looked like. But all she really needed were her senses, and they were on overload. When he first came out of the building, Lila felt her link to Max increase dramatically. It grew stronger as Collins came nearer to her hiding place, but faded as he drove away.

Yes, Max was certainly still alive. Somehow, he had taken on the form of Collins. Lila thought her mind might short-circuit as she realized that her beloved Max, the key to everything she had ever questioned, was now living in the body of Collins.

CHAPTER THREE

Damn, I'm Hungry

THE BAR WAS smoky and Erik Jones couldn’t see more than two feet ahead. That didn’t bother him though, because he was focused on the drink in front of him. The small glass was very interesting to watch as it spun around in place. Erik had been steadily throwing back shots of vodka for the past three hours.

He was so engrossed in the dancing shot glass, he failed to notice the man standing by his side. When he heard the chair next to him make scuffling sounds on the wooden floor, Erik shifted his gaze to his left. A man in a dark suit –the obvious cause of the moving chair– pulled himself up to the table beside Erik. A floating sort of rage drifted into his inebriated brain, but was quickly squashed when the stranger thumped a bottle of whiskey on the table.

How are you this fine evening? The stranger smiled. Erik’s reply was to grunt and reach for the bottle. He missed it by a few inches and tried again.

Here, let me help. The man grabbed his hand and guided it to the neck of the bottle.

As Erik picked up the liquor, the stranger introduced himself.

My name is Mr. Collins, he said, watching the young man clumsily pry the cap off the bottle. But you can call me Jean.

Jean? Erik grumbled. You some French faggot?

The man named Jean smiled wryly, but Erik didn’t see it. He was clawing at the whiskey bottle and cursing because it was hard to open. Jean reached over and plucked it from the drunk’s hands, twisted off the cap, and poured a drink into the shot glass.

Erik managed to grab the shot glass on his first try. As he raised it to his lips, his eyes met the stranger’s. Erik did not drink. He did not move at all as Jean’s eyes seemed to glow in the dimly lit bar.

Now that I have your attention, Jean said in a low voice, let me share some curious knowledge with you.

Erik still did not move. Jean chuckled.

Put the glass down, he ordered. Erik slowly lowered his arm, unable to stop himself. He didn’t understand what was happening, and he was too drunk to resist.

Did you know, Mr. Jones, that the first lobotomy occurred in 1890, in Switzerland? It was all quite secret, of course. At that time, holes were drilled into the patient’s skull, and then alcohol was injected into the frontal lobe. Jean paused, taking the shot glass out of Erik’s hand and sipping the whiskey. Later, they discontinued the use of alcohol and used a wire loop. They thrust this tool into the holes and then … well … essentially made scrambled eggs out of the patient’s brain. Intriguing, wouldn’t you say?

The alcohol in Erik’s bloodstream seemed to be evaporating on its own, and he understood every word the stranger was saying to him. It was terrifying, and yet Erik could not understand his paralysis. Suddenly, Jean reached out and grabbed his hand.

I, however, don’t need to use such barbaric methods. He smiled at Erik.

Erik wanted to bolt and run or scream for help. He could not even pull back his hand even though it felt like the flesh on it was burning away. Erik could only look, helplessly, into the hypnotic golden glow of Jean’s eyes.

*******

Jean squeezed Erik’s hand and watched drool ooze from the man’s slightly parted lips. Erik trembled when Jean visualized fire. Jean projected the angry, red mental flames from his eyes, willing them to engulf Erik’s brain and scorch it into submission. He stopped only when Erik’s eyes glazed and he saw a thin line of fresh blood dribble from Erik’s nose.

Jean smiled broadly and wiped the blood off Erik’s face with his other hand. Over the centuries he’d taught himself how to destroy the minds of his victims, yet he still felt a thrill every time he accomplished it. He stood, his hand still covering Erik’s, and ordered the young man to stand. Erik obeyed. Jean let go of his hand and reached into his suit pocket, pulling out a fistful of money. With a contemptuous flourish he threw it on the table and turned. Ordering Erik to follow him, he walked out of the bar into the cool night air feeling powerful and glorious.

I am truly a god, he told himself. But damn … I’m hungry.

********

As Jean drove Erik’s dumpy little truck, meandering back to Hatches Morgue, he frequently glanced over at his new prisoner.

Erik’s brown hair was a little greasy, but Jean thought he could be an attractive man with a little help. Despite his obvious drinking problem, Erik didn’t have the belly of a drinker. His form was still young and strong, which was one reason why Jean picked him to be his next host body.

Jean began wondering what went on in Erik’s mind, as he had about the minds of other prisoners before Erik. Since they could no longer speak, or even move without an order from him, Jean questioned if their minds continued their internal dialogue. This habit of contemplating the inner workings of his victims always led Jean to talk to them.

Well, Erik, he began, I bet you’re feeling pretty damn confused right now. It’s okay to be afraid; but I can promise you, you won’t feel a thing.

Jean glanced at the young man again, looking for signs of comprehension. As usual, he found none. That had never stopped him from talking to his victims over the past few hundred years.

I have to tell you that I am fucking starving, Jean said, turning onto a dirt road. But we have some business to take care of before I can get a bite to eat. You don’t mind, do you?

As the truck bumped down the dirt road, the only sound in the air was the occasional rock hitting the undercarriage. As Jean pulled up to the morgue, he thought his headlights caught a flash of movement. He stopped the truck and studied the surroundings, but saw nothing.

It must have been a raccoon or something, he told himself.

Putting the truck in park, he got out and took off his trench coat. Leaning back into the cab, he threw the coat over Erik’s head.

Stay here, he said, even though such an order wasn’t needed. Erik couldn’t move if he wanted to.

Jean adjusted his personality back to that of Mr. Collins and went inside. As soon as he saw the worker bent over his former body, Jean projected strength, intimidation and authority into the man’s mind. He wanted to get Max out of there as quickly as he could, get him in the ground and get on the road. Once the sun came up, he wouldn’t have to worry about Lila anymore.

CHAPTER FOUR

I’ve Waited a Long Time for You

WHILE JEAN ALTERNATELY schmoozed and ordered the worker around, Lila slowly crept to the back of the truck.

She’d waited for Collins to return, determined to find out how Max had changed bodies. She was more pissed off than she’d ever been in her entire life, but she kept tight control over her rage. She knew that anger would only leave her without answers, and that was what she wanted most of all—answers.

The bed of the old truck was littered with blue tarps. Lila crawled in, digging her way under the canvas until she was lying on the bare metal. She lay on her stomach, resting her head on her forearms. She felt scratching on her head for a few moments, followed by the sounds of confined flapping, before seeing the little hummingbird hop up on her arm. He cocked his head to the side, staring at her, before taking another little jump into the crook of her arm. Lila watched as he slowly sat down, apparently content with the makeshift nest between her cold flesh and the truck bed, and then tucked his head into his right side. Lila had the urge to pet the bird, but she couldn’t really move her arms without disturbing him.

She waited. Not able to hear anything happening in the morgue, she let her mind drift back to when she first met Max.

Or whatever the hell his name really is.

She closed her eyes and recalled that night vividly; she smelled the dark perfume of smoke and alcohol that hung suspended in the nightclub like decadent fog. Six months faded away and Lila felt the same way she had that evening.

It was her first night in town. She’d picked The Powerhouse nightclub as her