Pearse: Legacy of Darkness

By London Clarke

Not all vampires are alike…

 

Pearse Gallagher never intended to hurt anyone. As part of a fringe society of blood fetishists, he's always indulged his thirst in the confines of intimacy. So when he runs into his coworker Lacey at a bar, he's surprised to discover she has the same interest in vampirism.

 

Even so, Lacey has another motive for getting Pearse into her bed. As a member of an organization called The Colony, Lacey views Pearse as a potential recruit. At first, it seems like an ideal affiliation, and Pearse feels he's found a place to belong. Until, suddenly he wonders if he's made a terrible mistake and joined a group of cold-blooded killers. Now, Pearse must battle for his freedom—and his life.

 

Pearse is the chilling prequel novelette to the Legacy of Darkness series from the award-winning and Amazon-bestselling author of The Meadows and Whickering Place.

• Language: English
• Publisher: London Clarke
• Release date: Mar 2, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224102327

London Clarke

London Clarke is the author of nine novels, including The Legacy of Darkness series, the Dunmoor series, Wildfell, and Until Death (to be released in August 2023). Clarke has repeatedly reached Amazon bestseller status in ghost thriller and vampire suspense categories. She lives in South Carolina with her husband and two Italian greyhounds.

Book preview

Chapter 1

H ey, Pearse!

Pearse Gallagher looked up from restringing his guitar. The female voice calling to him was familiar. As the woman approached, she cast a full shadow over him, and he quickly recognized her tall frame, broad shoulders, and swingy, shoulder-length auburn hair.

Lacey, hey. How’s it goin’?

She motioned toward the stage. I heard your band was playing. Thought I’d come and check you guys out.

Pearse smiled. Thanks for coming.

You sounded great. Her work badge and key fob still dangled from the bottom of her leather jacket.

Lacey was a nurse at the same clinic where Pearse worked in the lab as a phlebotomist. They’d never talked much, but they crossed paths here and there.

She threw her weight against one hip. Can I buy you a drink?

Pearse glanced up at the crowded bar. He’d actually been looking forward to crashing out on a couch or a bed at any of his friends’ pads—whether that was Dave’s place, Nils’s house, or Andre’s apartment. It was already midnight, and he had to work the next day.

Yeah, okay. Maybe one. He laid his guitar in the case and followed Lacey to the bar lit with a neon-blue glow, highlighting the rows of liquor on the shelves. There was nowhere to sit, so they loitered at the edge, waiting for a spot to clear. This could take a while.

Lacey smiled and pushed her heavy bangs out of her eyes. Don’t worry. I know these guys. They’ll come over.

She wasn’t wrong. Within a few seconds, the bartender stepped out from behind the bar and approached. Lacey. What can I get you?

The usual, Adam. Two of them.

The bartender nodded, pushed through the crowd, and resumed his place behind the bar.

Interesting. Lacey hadn’t asked Pearse what he’d wanted. She was obviously confident in her selection. What did you get me?

She blinked. Absinthe.

Pearse drew his mouth back. Absinthe? Holy shit. What are you trying to do? Get me drunk? Kill me?

She arched an eyebrow. Maybe.

The last time he’d had absinthe, Pearse had woken up on the floor of a stranger’s house thinking he’d been bludgeoned and with no memory of how he got there. That stuff’s dangerous. It lays me out flat.

Maybe that’s where I want you.

He laughed, but he had no intention of getting involved with Lacey. First of all, she wasn’t his type. She was somewhat Amazonian, nearly taller than him, and he liked shorter women. And Lacey had a hardness about her, a permanent scowl disguised by a smile. On top of that, he did not want to date someone he worked with. No thanks.

He’d drink some of the absinthe she’d ordered, but then he was heading home—wherever that was tonight. Pearse hadn’t had his own place in months. Instead, he’d crashed in hotels and on friends’ spare beds and couches. The last house he’d lived in with friends was a Hurricane Katrina wreck that had been refurbished and rented out. After a few years, the landlord wanted to sell. Now he was on the lookout for something else. Couch surfing wasn’t ideal, and he probably couldn’t keep that up much longer. He needed to find a place to land.

A space at the bar cleared, and Adam the bartender pointed at two empty seats for Lacey and Pearse. They slid onto the stools. Seconds later, the yellow-green drinks appeared in front of them.

Pearse took a sip. Yep. Just like he remembered. A little bitter, a tad sweet, a lot intoxicating, and all too deceptive.

Adam makes the best absinthe in all of New Orleans. Lacey smiled and scooted her stool closer until her knees touched Pearse’s. Her maroon lipstick was slightly smeared across her bottom lip.

Pearse looked down at his glass, inching it in a circle. I’m usually a beer kind of guy.

Live a little. She put her elbow on the bar and rested her head against her hand. How do you like working at the clinic?

I like it. It’s my first real job doing this, so I don’t have much to compare it with. He cast a glance toward the stage. His bandmates were packed up and probably looking for him. He held up a finger and slid off the stool. Can you give me just a second? I need to check in with my band. Nils is my ride.

Tell them I’ll give you a ride home, she called after him.

As Pearse approached his bandmate, Nils held up his hands. Brah, where were you? We thought you’d left.

Pearse jerked his thumb over his shoulder. I’m talking to someone from work.

Nils lifted his