Jeanne C. Stein - Retribution
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 60
EPILOGUE
PRAISE FOR THE ANNA STRONG, VAMPIRE SERIES
LEGACY
“Urban fantasy with true depth and flair!”
—Romantic Times (4½ stars)
“As riveting as the rest . . . one of my favorite urban fantasy series.”—Darque Reviews
THE WATCHER
“Action fills every page, making this a novel that flies by . . . Dynamic relationships blend [with] complex mysteries in this thriller.”—Huntress Book Reviews
“An exciting, fast-paced novel . . . first-rate plotting.”
—LoveVampires
“Dazzles readers with action-packed paranormal adventure, love and friendship. With many wonderfully executed twists and turns, this author’s suspenseful writing will hold readers spellbound until the very end.”—Darque Reviews
“Snappy action and plot twists that will hold readers’ interest to the last page.”—Monsters and Critics
BLOOD DRIVE
“A terrific tale of supernatural sleuthing . . . provides edge-of-your-seat thrills and a high-octane emotional punch.”
—Romantic Times
“Once again Jeanne C. Stein delivers a jam-packed story full of mystery and intrigue that will keep you glued to the edge of your seat! Just like [with] the first book in the Anna Strong series, The Becoming, I could not put this book down even for a second. You will find yourself cheering Anna on as she goes after the bad guys. Jeanne C. Stein has given us a wonderful tough-as-nails heroine everyone will love!”—Night Owl Romance
“I loved this book . . . hugely enjoyable . . . an exciting read and everything any vampire-fantasy fan could hope for.”
—LoveVampires
“Jeanne C. Stein takes on the vampire mythos in her own unique manner that makes for an enthralling vampire thriller. Readers of Laurell K. Hamilton, Tanya Huff and Charlaine Harris will thoroughly enjoy this fast-paced novel filled with several action scenes that come one after the other, making it hard for the readers to catch a breather.”
—Midwest Book Review
“A really great series. Anna’s strengths and weaknesses make for a very compelling character. Stein really puts you in [Anna’s] head as she fumbles her way through a new life and the heartbreaking choices she will have to make. [Stein] also introduces new supernatural characters and gives a glimpse into a secret underground organization. This is a pretty cool urban fantasy series that will appeal to fans of Patricia Briggs’s Mercy Thompson series.”
—Vampire Genre
THE BECOMING
“This is a really, really good book. Anna is a great character, Stein’s plotting is adventurous and original, and I think most of my readers would have a great time with The Becoming .”
—Charlaine Harris, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Dead and Gone
“A cross between MaryJanice Davidson’s Undead series, starring Betsy Taylor, and Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake series. [Anna’s] a kick-butt bounty hunter—but vampires are a complete surprise to her. Full of interesting twists and turns that will leave readers guessing. The Becoming is a great addition to the TBR pile.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“With plot twists, engaging characters and smart writing, this first installment in a new supernatural series has all the marks of a hit. Anna Strong lives up to her name: equally tenacious and vulnerable, she’s a heroine with the charm, savvy and intelligence that fans of Laurell K. Hamilton and Kim Harrison will be happy to root for . . . If this debut novel is any indication, Stein has a fine career ahead of her.”—Publishers Weekly
“In an almost Hitchcockian way, this story keeps you guessing, with new twists and turns coming almost every page. Anna is well named, strong in ways she does not even know. There is a strong element of surprise to it . . . Even if you don’t like vampire novels, you ought to give this one a shot.”—Huntress Book Reviews
“A wonderful new vampire book . . . that will keep you on the edge of your seat.”—Fallen Angel Reviews
Ace Books by Jeanne C. Stein
THE BECOMING
BLOOD DRIVE
THE WATCHER
LEGACY
RETRIBUTION
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
RETRIBUTION
An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Ace mass-market edition / September 2009
Copyright © 2009 by Jeanne C. Stein.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reprodu
ced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
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375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
eISBN : 978-1-101-13831-1
ACE
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To my pop—who never really got it
And my family and friends who do
This one’s for you
PROLOGUE
IT WAS TOO DARK.
She couldn’t see.
Her nose wrinkled. Something smelled bad. Smelled of urine and vomit and . . .
Death. She recognized it, though she shouldn’t have been able to. She wouldn’t have been able to twenty-four hours ago.
She was afraid. He was supposed to be here. He promised to be here.
She stepped closer to the wall, away from the door. The dark clutched at her with icy fingers. She was too new. She felt vulnerable, exposed. Her blood, his blood, ran through her veins, but it offered no protection. Where was the strength he promised? The freedom from fear?
She began to shake. She was so hungry. She needed to feed. He said he’d be here to help her. To show her what to do.
A sound, the scrabbling of claws on concrete, made her jump. Her skin tightened at the base of her spine. There were rats in here. Rats. He didn’t expect her to eat rats, did he? No, he’d have to let her feed from him again if that’s what he had planned. She would not eat vermin. No matter how hungry she was.
She felt a thrill of excitement. She had done it. She had become vampire, one of the strong, one of the immortal. It wasn’t exactly what she expected—the becoming. But she’d crossed the threshold and come out the other side. She was vampire.
So, why was she cringing here in the dark like a child just because he was late? Hadn’t he said instinct would kick in when the time came to take her first human?
Maybe he had more faith in her abilities than she did.
Maybe he had decided to let her hunt on her own because he knew what she was capable of.
Maybe he was right outside the door, waiting for her to—
To what?
She peered into the darkness. There wasn’t anyone here. There were no humans in the building, of that she was certain. She didn’t smell anything except the putrid odor of decay. She didn’t hear any hearts beating, nothing breathing or snorting or coughing.
She was alone.
With the rats.
She pressed a dial on her watch. The face glowed. She’d been here thirty minutes. She would wait five more.
She worked her way back along the wall to the door. There was no moonlight to break the gloom or cast a shadow through the broken windows. Irritation quickened her step. Why had he told her to meet him here? Was this some stupid initiation prank? If it was, she didn’t find it funny. He’d know that soon enough.
She pushed at the door.
It creaked open.
He was waiting for her outside, his features pale in the dim light.
“Where have you been?”
He smiled and raised his arm.
A shiver of uncertainty ran up her spine. “What is that?”
He took one step closer and fired.
The dart from the crossbow caught her just under her left breast. A prick.
Warmth.
Then . . .
I SIT STRAIGHT UP IN BED—HEART POUNDING.
Christ.
What a weird dream.
CHAPTER 1
THERE ARE SOME THINGS ABOUT BEING A VAMPIRE that come in handy in my line of work.
Tonight is a perfect example.
I’m a bounty hunter. The human I’m after is sitting at a bar ten feet away from me getting shit-faced on cheap beer and bad whiskey. She’s leaning on the shoulder of her loser boyfriend, whose name is Hank. I know this because I smell the booze, see the drunken haze clouding her eyes, hear every word they’re saying. Where they plan to go when they leave, who they’re planning to meet, how much money they expect to have after they rob the neighborhood 7-Eleven.
She has no idea that anyone is listening. How could she? The noise in this dive is at jet engine decibels. But I hear. Everything.
She pushes herself off the bar stool and staggers to her feet. Her name is Hilda. She’s wanted for three counts of aggravated assault. The boyfriend she’s drinking with is one of the complainants. Seems they’ve made up. She’s about five feet four inches, two hundred fifty pounds. She’s dressed in low-cut jeans and a tight T-shirt.
Not a pretty picture.
Hilda gathers up what’s left of a twenty—a fiver and some coin. The barkeep laid the change down five minutes ago with a smile after she’d called for the tab.
The barkeep’s expression now reflects disappointment; he thought she might forget.
Hilda’s expression says fat chance.
Hilda pushes the coins toward him but drops the bill down the front of her shirt and grins. “Want a bigger tip? Come get it.”
Hank grabs her arm. “What are you talking about, bitch?”
The bartender takes a step back and moves away. The boyfriend is bigger than Hilda and mean-looking. I can see by the frown on his face that the barkeep thinks no five-dollar tip is worth the aggravation. He moves to the other side of the bar.
Hilda and her boyfriend argue all the way to the door. I slip out right after them. I already know where they’ve parked their car and while they lurch toward it, I take off ahead of them. By the time they get to me, I’m leaning against the driver’s side door, twirling a pair of handcuffs.
“What the fuck?” Hank says.
“Yeah, what the fuck?” Hilda echoes.
“Hilda, Hilda. I got a call from your daughter this afternoon. She’s upset. Do you know why?”
Hilda’s eyes scrunch. “No. Why?”
“You must have forgotten that you had a court date this week. You didn’t show up. Now if I don’t get you to jail tonight, your daughter is going to lose her house. You really wouldn’t want that to happen, would you?”
The boyfriend snarls and takes what I’m sure he imagines to be a menacing step toward me.
The fact that his eyes are crossed and drool spindles from the corner of his mouth takes the sting out of the threat. I hold my ground and snarl right back. Literally.
His eyes widen, but he places his hands on swaying hips and says, “Those are bullshit charges. You’d better get away from my car, little lady, or I’m going to have to take you over my knee.”
He grins at Hilda. “That’s pretty good, huh? We’ll give this bitch a spanking she’ll never forget.”
Hilda grins back. For a minute, I think they’ve forgotten I’m here. Then they both turn around.
And start to run.
In opposite directions.
Hank picks the better route—toward the street. With surprising dexterity, he leapfrogs into the back of a moving pickup and peeks up over the gate. The driver doesn’t realize he’s picked up a passenger and continues on his way down the road.
Hank has no bounty on his ass, so I don’t care. I take off after Hilda. She has a head start. Still, it’s no contest. She’s two hundred and fifty pounds of couch potato. I don’t need to tap into vampire strength or speed. I’m on her before she makes it to the end of the parking lot.
I push her to the ground and jump on her broad back. She bucks under me like a bull. I yank both of her hands behind her and snap on the cuffs. It happens so fast, she doesn’t realize she’s trussed until she tries to push herself up.
She starts to yell. For Hank.
“Save your breath, sweetie,” I whisper in her ear. “The last glimpse I had of Hank, he was hopping in the back of a pickup. He’s long gone.”
I reach down and haul her to her feet. I use one hand, as if she weighs twenty-five pounds instead of two-fifty. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”
Hilda is looking at me bleary-eyed with confusion and alcohol. “How did you—? What did you—? Where did you—?”
I pat her head and push her toward my own car. “Don’t try to figure it out, Hilda. You’ll hurt yourself.”
She stumbles forward. I’ve got one hand on the cuffs and one on the small of her back. We’re just about at the car when my cell phone rings.
I dig it out of my pocket and flip it open.
It’s my partner, David, on vacation in the Bahamas.
“Hey, Anna,” he says. “How’s it going?”
“Just peachy.” I open the rear car door and shove Hilda down onto the seat. “Are you having fun?”
He laughs. “I’m laying on a beach drinking mojitos out of coconut shells. How about you?”
Hilda looks up at me and spits. Only trouble is, she’s got the coordination of a drunk and the spittle dribbles down her own chin and settles somewhere in the vicinity of that five-dollar bill she’d shoved down her blouse.
I slam the door and take my place behind the wheel. “Actually, yes,” I tell David. “I am having fun.”
CHAPTER 2
I DEPOSIT HILDA IN CITY LOCKUP AND HEAD TO the office David and I share on Pacific Coast Highway. It’s just past midnight on a Saturday night and the restaurants in Seaport Village, our a neighbor to the south, have already shuttered for the night. I take a beer out of the fridge, gather the day’s mail from the desktop and step out onto the wooden deck that spans the rear of the building.
It’s a cool, moonless, late April evening. Too cool for a human to enjoy sitting out on the deck the way I am now. For a vampire, temperature is irrelevant. Ninety degrees or fifty, makes no difference. However, the feel of a soft ocean breeze blowing off the water, the cool iciness of the beer bottle in my hand, the play of light on the water from Coronado across the bay, are human sensibilities I can still enjoy.