Tainted Blood . Amy Blankenship

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      Tainted Blood

      Blood Bound Series Book 7

      Amy Blankenship, RK Melton

      Copyright © 2012 Amy Blankenship

      Second Edition Published by TekTime

      All rights reserved.

      Chapter 1

      Craven walked the streets of the city having sent Nighthawk and Tiara ahead to their fortress. He’d learned the girl’s name from the Indian. He was now riding high on several different adrenalin rushes… one being that he finally had the child he’d always longed for. Craven pushed the urgency away knowing she would not wake for a while.

      He trusted Nighthawk not to feel the urge to hurt her in any way… he had seen as much in the Indian’s eyes and it made him curious. He’d been searching for a reason as to why the zombie-turned-Night Walker had chosen to stay with him. Now it looked like Nighthawk had simply been waiting on something… or someone.

      They both wanted to protect the beautiful little necromancer… even if it was for different reasons. If she was anything like her mother, then Craven could not fault Deth for siring a child with such a human. He could not feel his brother’s life force in this world and it was disturbing to think he’d just abandoned his child.

      Watching Nile suffer at the hands of his attacking children had given him immense satisfaction. He would have quickly become a problem had he not been stopped. Nile was a demon master and had already gathered much strength by taking that huge graveyard as his own. Even a lower class demon could become a nuisance if his or her army grew to such numbers.

      While it was not he who had ultimately killed Nile, being able to witness his destruction had reminded Craven of the demon wars of old. It had filled him with bloodlust and the need to fight for dominance. Rarely did such an overpowering emotion possess him, but when it did he would find something that needed to be killed.

      His time within the rift was only a fleeting memory. Time had suspended him there… much like a good night’s rest. He could feel the lapse in time only when the rift opened and he’d awakened. He assumed it was the same as pulling souls from the afterlife… the same confusion followed.

      The night had given way to early morning now, but unlike some of his underlings… Craven wasn’t bound to the night. While he was in the mood, taking down a weaker master or two would be an enjoyable pastime. He could already smell the mess they were making of the city.

      Craven leaned back against the side of one of the buildings just taking it all in. This was the same world he’d lived in for so long, before being banished into the stillness of the rift, but now it was different in so many ways. This time period was more sophisticated… yet more wild than he remembered. The streets that crossed over the terrain held so many secrets… but with every soul he touched… he would learn more of this time from their memories.

      The number of humans had grown along with the number of souls who had stayed behind to haunt the city on their own. He could feel them inside homes, hospitals… everywhere. He watched a city bus slowly drive by and noticed the soul of a man staring out the window at him.

      Was this why the cemeteries he’d raised had been lacking the number of souls compared to the graves? From his point of view, it appeared as though the souls remained where the body had died, striving to continue an existence that no longer had any meaning. Most demons were only able to use the humans who were still alive… possessing or controlling their bodies. With so few necromancers in existence, his army would be immense once it was complete.

      The passing of time had granted one thing… the number of the dead now matched the number of the living… if not surpassing it. Craven was fairly certain that if the dead were all summoned at once, they would easily overpower the living.

      Testing the notion, he let his power flare out around him in waves, feeling for those who had no master to claim them. The souls he touched could feel themselves surrounded by demons, unable to move freely and most were too frightened to leave their security.

      Craven was a soul collector… as was Deth. He used the weaker demons and any other creature of the night to do his bidding, but his bloodline was special. When he or anyone of his ancestry offered a soul a way home, it was then that a bargain was struck between them.

      He could use his body as a medium to send the souls back to the afterlife, but if he ever called upon them to fight, they would be bound by the deal to return to this dimension and do as he wished. By waking the souls of the dead, Craven could then offer to send them back on this condition… that they remained his to call if he had need of them.

      When a soul walked through him to return to the afterlife, they left a residue of their power behind… inside him, making him stronger with each passing. The same would happen with Tiara, and he knew Deth had not shared that secret with her mother. If the naiveté of the girl was any indication, she’d been given only the mother’s training.

      The secrets Deth possessed had not been shared, nor would Craven share those same secrets with Tiara. He would use the ability to walk souls to the afterlife and let the young necromancer believe he was helping her… endearing her to him by appearing to empathize with her ‘need’ to save them all. Such mortal notions were brought on by her human side.

      There was no use in letting the souls he could feel remain free for another lower class necromancer like Nile to feed upon. Calling them to him, Craven made his silent offer. His bargain was this… he was their savior from other demons, he was their sanctuary, and he was their direct path home if they accepted the deal.

      One by one, the souls began to slowly emerge from their hiding places… walking past pedestrians who were going about their normal morning routines. Some humans could feel their closeness and would quicken their steps wanting to get away from the odd feeling. These humans had a heightened awareness; even though they could not see the ghosts whose energy they were feeling.

      Souls that exhibited more bravery than others began stepping into him, taking his offer and disappearing from this plane of existence, while the more timid simply watched from a distance. Craven’s lips hinted at a small smile as he sent out another wave of power to entice them. Suddenly more unclaimed souls crowded the streets, rushing toward him at a maddening pace.

      Craven remained relaxed in his easy stance, leaning against the wall of the building as the souls rapidly flooded his body. If anyone had paid any attention, they would have seen his soft silver hair fluttering around his face in a breeze that was completely absent. However, on the inside, his power was building higher than the simple new souls that he’d been playing with in the graveyards.

      These souls were old and tired of being in this world… strong souls giving him the touch of their power as they crossed over. He would use this power to protect what Deth had abandoned for him to find… their bloodline. Once the tidal wave of souls had stopped, he resumed his inspection of the city.

      A sinister smile graced his features as he followed some of the demon hunters from block to block, tracking their movements. He almost laughed when the hunters would stop short of one area to go and search elsewhere without wondering why they’d changed their minds. It was one of the oldest spells demons had used against their enemy since the dark ages… a repellant spell, making the unwelcome guest not want to come any closer.

      The hunters were either extremely smart or extremely stupid considering their line of work. However, most of the hunters appeared to be human with no extrasensory perception, so it may have been just plain ignorance on their part.

      He stopped to admire the fighting style of one who reminded him of Nighthawk… the human could have been a descendent of the Indian. Demon blood was streaked across his face like war paint and his magic was of high quality. This one Craven would have to remember, not out of fear but curiosity.

      Becoming bored, Craven backtracked to the area that the hunters were unconsciously avoiding. It was riddled with darkness and provided a sanctuary for the dregs of this society to run and hide. Inside that darkness, power was waiting and feeding on the life that thrived in it. Craven