Red-Headed Stepchild

Book 1: Sabina Kane

by Jaye Wells

Genres: Contemporary Fantasy; Paranormal; Women's Fiction

Synopsis

In a world where being of mixed blood is a major liability, Sabina Kane doesn't really fit in. And being an assassin-the only profession fit for an outcast-doesn't help matters. But she's never brought her work home. Until now.



Sabina's latest mission is uncomfortably complex and threatens the fragile peace between the vampire and mage races. As she scrambles to figure out which side she's on, she uncovers a tangled political web, some nasty facts about her family, and some unexpected new talents. Any of these things could be worryingly life changing, but together they could be lethal.

Release date: April 1, 2009

Publisher: Orbit

Print pages: 352

Sample

Digging graves is hell on a manicure, but I was taught good vampires clean up after every meal. So I ignored the chipped onyx
polish. I ignored the dirt caked under my nails. I ignored my palms, rubbed raw and blistering. And when a snapping twig announced
David’s arrival, I ignored him too.


He said nothing, just stood off behind a thicket of trees waiting for me to acknowledge him. Despite his silence, I could
feel hot waves of disapproval flying in my direction.


At last, the final scoop of earth fell onto the grave. Stalling, I leaned on the shovel handle and restored order to my hair.
Next I brushed flecks of dirt from my cashmere sweater. Not the first choice of digging attire for some, but I always believed
manual labor was no excuse for sloppiness. Besides, the sweater was black, so it went well with the haphazard funerary rites.


The Harvest Moon, a glowing orange sphere, still loomed in the sky. Plenty of time before sunrise. In the distance, traffic
hummed like white noise in the City of Angels. I took a moment to appreciate the calm.


Memory of the phone call from my grandmother intruded. When she told me the target of my latest assignment, an icy chill spread
through my veins. I’d almost hung up, unable to believe what she was asking me to do. But when she told me David was working
with Clovis Trakiya, white-hot anger replaced the chill. I called up that anger now to spur my resolve. I clenched my teeth
and ignored the cold stone sitting in my stomach. My own feelings about David were irrelevant now. The minute he decided to
work with one of the Dominae’s enemies—a glorified cult leader who wanted to overthrow their power—he’d signed his death warrant.


Unable to put it off any longer, I turned to him. “What’s up?”

David stalked out of his hiding place, a frown marring the perfect planes of his face. “Do you want to tell me why you’re
burying a body?”


“Who, me?” I asked, tossing the shovel to the ground. My palms were already healing. I wish I could say the same for my guilty
conscience. If David thought I should apologize for feeding from a human, I didn’t want to know what he was going to say in
about five minutes.


“Cut the shit, Sabina. You’ve been hunting again.” His eyes glowed with accusation. “What happened to the synthetic blood
I gave you?”


“That stuff tastes like shit,” I said. “It’s like nonalcoholic beer. What’s the point?”

“Regardless, it’s wrong to feed from humans.”

It’s also wrong to betray your race, I thought. If there was one thing about David that always got my back up, it was his
holier-than-thou attitude. Where were his morals when he made the decision to sell out?


Keep it together, Sabina. It will all be over in a few minutes.

“Oh, come on. It was just a stupid drug dealer,” I said, forcing myself to keep up the banter. “If it makes you feel any better,
he was selling to kids.”


David crossed his arms and said nothing.

“Though I have to say nothing beats Type O mixed with a little cannabis.”

A muscle worked in David’s jaw. “You’re stoned?”

“Not really,” I said. “Though I do have a strange craving for pizza. Extra garlic.”

He took a deep breath. “What am I going to do with you?” His lips quirked despite his harsh tone.

“First of all, no more lectures. We’re vampires, David. Mortal codes of good and evil don’t apply to us.”

He arched a brow. “Don’t they?”

“Whatever,” I said. “Can we just skip the philosophical debates for once?”

He shook his head. “Okay then, why don’t you tell me why we’re meeting way out here?”

Heaving a deep sigh, I pulled my weapon. David’s eyes widened as I aimed the custom-made pistol between them.

His eyes pivoted from the gun to me. I hoped he didn’t notice the slight tremor in my hands.

“I should have known when you called me,” he said. “You never do that.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?” His calm unsettled me.

“I know why.” He crossed his arms and regarded me closely. “The question is, do you?”

My eye twitched. “I know enough. How could you betray the Dominae?”

He didn’t flinch. “One of these days your blind obedience to the Dominae is going to be your downfall.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t waste your final words on another lecture.”

He lunged before the last word left my lips. He plowed into me, knocking the breath out of my chest and the gun from my hand.
We landed in a tangle of limbs on the fresh grave. Dirt and fists flew as we each struggled to gain advantage. He grabbed
my hair and whacked my head into the dirt. Soil tunneled up my nose and rage blurred my vision.


My hands curled into claws and dug into his eyes. Distracted by pain, he covered them with his palms. Gaining the advantage
fueled my adrenaline as I flipped him onto his back. My knees straddled his hips, and I belted him in the nose with the base
of my hand. Blood spurted from his nostrils, streaking his lips and chin.


“Bitch!” Like an animal, he sank his fangs into the fleshy part of my palm. I shrieked, backhanding him across the cheek with
my uninjured hand. He growled and shoved me. I flew back several feet, landing on my ass with a thud.


Before I could catch my breath, his weight pinned me down again. Only this time, my gun stared back at me with its unblinking
eye.


“How does it feel, Sabina?” His face was close to mine as he whispered. His breath stunk of blood and fury. “How does it feel
to be on the other end of the gun?”


“It sucks, actually.” Despite my tough talk, my heart hammered against my ribs. I glanced to the right and saw the shovel
I’d used earlier lying about five feet away. “Listen—”


“Shut up.” His eyes were wild. “You know what the worst part is? I came here tonight to come clean with you. Was going to
warn you about the Dominae and Clovis—”


“Warn me?”

David jammed the cold steel into my skull—tattooing me with his rage. “That’s the irony isn’t it? Do you even know what’s
at stake here?” He cocked the hammer. Obviously, the question had been rhetorical.


One second, two, ticked by before the sound of flapping wings and a loud hoot filled the clearing. David glanced away, distracted.
I punched him in the throat. He fell back, gasping and sputtering. I hauled ass to the shovel.


Time slowed. Spinning, I slashed the shovel in a wide arc. A bullet ricocheted off the metal, causing a spark. David pulled
himself up to shoot again, but I lunged forward, swinging like Babe Ruth. The metal hit David’s skull with a sickening thud.
He collapsed in a heap.


He wouldn’t stay down long. I grabbed the gun from his limp hand and aimed it at his chest.

I was about to pull the trigger when his eyes crept open. “Sabina.”

He lay on the ground, covered in blood and dirt. The goose egg on his forehead was already losing its mass. Knowledge of the
inevitable filled his gaze. I paused, watching him.


At one time, I’d looked up to this male, counted him as a friend. And now he’d betrayed everything I held sacred by selling
out to the enemy. I hated him for his treachery. I hated the Dominae for choosing me as executioner. But most of all, I hated
myself for what I was about to do.


He raised a hand toward me—imploring me to listen. My insides felt coated in acid as I watched him struggle to sit up.

“Don’t trust—”

His final words were lost in the gun’s blast. David’s body exploded into flames, caused by the metaphysical friction of his
soul leaving his flesh.


My whole body spasmed. The heat from the fire couldn’t stop the shaking in my limbs. Collapsing to the dirt, I wiped a quivering
hand down my face.


The gun felt like a branding iron in my hand. I dropped it, but my hand still throbbed. A moment later, I changed my mind
and picked it up again. Pulling out the clip, I removed one of the bullets. Holding one up for inspection, I wondered what
David felt when the casing exploded and a dose of the toxic juice robbed him of his immortality.


I glanced over at the smoldering pile that was once my friend. Had he suffered? Or did death bring instant relief from the
burdens of immortality? Or had I just damned his soul to a worse fate? I shook myself. His work here was done. Mine wasn’t.


My shirt was caked with smears of soot, dirt, and drying blood—David’s blood mixed with mine. I sucked in a lungful of air,
hoping to ease the tightness in my chest.


The fire had died, leaving a charred, smoking mass of ash and bone. Great, I thought, now I have to dig another grave.

I used the shovel to pull myself up. A blur of white flew through the clearing. The owl called out again before flying over
the trees. I stilled, wondering if I was hearing things. It called again and this time I was sure it screeched, “Sabina.”



Maybe the smoke and fatigue were playing tricks on me. Maybe it had really said my name. I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t have
time to worry about that. I had a body to bury.


As I dug in, my eyes started to sting. I tried to convince myself it was merely a reaction to the smoke, but a voice in my
head whispered “guilt.” With ruthless determination, I shoved my conscience down, compressing it into a tiny knot and shoving
it into a dark corner of myself. Maybe later I’d pull it out and examine it. Or maybe not.


Good assassins dispose of problems without remorse. Even if the problem was a friend.

Sepulcher was my next stop after burying David. Located in Silverlake, near Sunset, it catered to hipster mortal clientele
on the front. In the back, however, was one of the best vampire clubs in L.A.


I’d never seen the bouncer before. He had a thick neck and his mullet was not an ironic statement. He wore a black wife beater
with the word “asshole” written on it in white. I assumed this was his name.


“Sorry, girlie, no ID, no entry.”

“Look, ” I said, “You’re new so I’ll forgive your ignorance. Ewan knows me.”

Asshole smiled, his crooked teeth yellow from the cigarette dangling from his lips. “You’re the tenth chick tonight who’s
claimed to know Ewan. No dice. Next!” He dismissed me, looking at the couple in line behind me. “ID?”


I pushed the guy who stepped forward out of my way.

“Hey!” he said, puffing up like a blowfish.

“Fuck off,” I said without looking at him.

“Now, listen,” I said to the bouncer, who sighed heavily. “I’m going in. You can try to stop me, but I wouldn’t recommend
it.”


He laughed and flexed a bicep. “Bring it.”

When I moved forward, his hand shot out and grabbed my left arm. With a quick twist toward his thumb, I extricated myself
from his hold. Crushing his metatarsals crossed my mind, but I didn’t want to make more of a scene than necessary. I kept
walking, only to have him grab me around the waist from behind. He lifted my feet off the ground and hugged me hard to his
body.


So much for avoiding a scene.

“You like it rough, huh?” he whispered in my ear. I was about to show him just how rough I liked it when Ewan appeared.

“Put her down, Tank,” he ordered.

“She ain’t got no ID, boss.”

“It’s all right,” Ewan said.

“But, you said—”

“I said, put her down!”

As soon as my feet hit the floor, I spun around, ready to throw down. Before I could swing, Ewan grabbed my hand and pulled
me roughly toward him.


“Stop,” he said. “Or I’ll personally kick your ass to the curb.”

Our stare-off lasted only a few moments. Tension hung over us like a cloud, as the rest of the people in line held their collective
breath. In the end, though, I knew my anger had nothing to do with the bouncer. Fighting him wouldn’t erase the last two hours
of my life. Taking a deep breath, I stood down and settled for glaring over Ewan’s shoulder at the Neanderthal. Ewan placated
Tank and sent him back to the door. With a jerk of his head, he indicated I should follow him to the back.


The place was wall-to-wall mortals. Many were crowded on the small dance floor in front of the stage, but the area around
the bar was equally packed as people fought for the bartenders’ attention. On the stage, an all-girl punk group thrashed their
instruments. They sounded like a bunch of cats in heat. Above the stage, small lights spelled out “Salvation.”


The whole scene felt claustrophobic. The smog of cigarette smoke mixed with the scent of sweat and stale beer, not to mention
the overpowering aroma of blood pumping through all those mortal bodies.


As we passed, the women’s bathroom door opened. Two bleached blondes in miniskirts were snorting lines of coke from the counter.
Their blood would offer an amazing high were I to feed from them. But I knew better than to go there. First, Ewan would kill
me if I sucked on his customers. Second, while the occasional pothead was a harmless snack, making meals out of drug addicts
was bad news. Others before me had found the secondhand high too hard to resist, only to find themselves junkies for eternity.


Another bouncer stood about ten feet past the restrooms. This one was smaller than the guy out front, but far deadlier. Sebastian’s
auburn hair was shaved on the sides and rose into a Mohawk in the center. He had a bullring in his nose and a dragon half-sleeve
tattoo on his left arm.


“What’s up, Sabina?” he said over the heads of the mortal couple he’d been talking to.

“Hey!” The woman swayed as she spoke. I wasn’t sure if it was her massive silicone tits throwing off her balance or if too
much alcohol was to blame. “We were here first.”


“I already told you to get lost,” Sebastian said calmly.

“There a problem?” Ewan stepped forward.

“Yes, there’s a problem,” the drunk chick’s boyfriend said. He was a muscle-bound Hollywood type, probably an actor. Silverlake’s
alternative rock scene didn’t usually draw his kind. Perhaps he felt hanging out there made him edgy. “He won’t let us into
the VIP lounge.”


Ewan played it cool, looking back at Sebastian. “Are their names on the list?”

Sebastian didn’t miss a beat. “No, sir.”

“But he isn’t holding a list,” the girl whined.

The guy stepped in front of her and puffed up. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Yes, sir, I’m a big fan,” Ewan said. “Unfortunately, there’s a private party tonight.”

“This is ridiculous,” the guy said.

Ewan put a hand on the guy’s shoulder and deftly maneuvered him back in the direction of the bar. Over his shoulder he mouthed,
“I’ll be back.” As they moved away, I heard him promise the couple drinks on the house.


“Is my name on the list?” I teased Sebastian.

“What list?” he said, deadpan. “Go on back.”

I walked through the door marked “private,” which opened onto a dark staircase. As I descended the steps, the sounds of the
club upstairs became muted, almost as if I’d ducked my head below water. At the bottom, I knocked on another door. A small
panel opened and two eyes squinted at me through the slit. A bright beam from overhead illuminated me like an inquisitor’s
light.


“Password?”

“Fuck you.”

“Very funny,” said Dirk, another bouncer. “You know I can’t let you in without the password, Sabina.”

“Come on, Dirk,”

“Sorry, babe. Gotta say the words.”

“Fine.” I sighed. “Count Chocula.” One of these days I was going to have to tell Ewan his sense of humor sucked.

“Atta girl,” Dirk said. The panel closed and the sound of several locks clicking open filled the small space. Dirk closed
the door behind me.


This room held a coat rack and a stool for Dirk. Yet another door waited ahead. I understood the need for security. Ewan had
had problems in the past with mortals stumbling into the vampire-only section of the club, but it was a pain in the ass jumping
through all these hoops.


“Hey, babe.” Dirk smiled flirtatiously.

“What’s up?” I said, not really caring.

“Oh you know, this and that.” He unlocked the next door as he spoke. Pulling it open with a flourish, he motioned for me to
go on in.


In comparison to the mortal area, the vamp section was relatively mellow. No flashing lights or strobes interrupted the darkness.
The only light came from strategically placed candles, which sat in recessed shelves all over the exposed-brick walls and
on the tables. The only other light was from the sign over the bar. This one read “Damnation.”


Here and there, vamps lounged on purple velvet settees, smoking blood from long hoses attached to red-and-gold hookahs. Some
used simple tobacco blends, which added a spicy scent to the air. Others sprinkled a little opium into the mix. The sweet
smoke mixed with the ferric aroma of blood to create an intoxicating perfume.


A few familiar faces turned in my direction as I made my way to the bar. It was only ten o’clock, so the crowd was light.
Soon enough, other vamps would filter in, their cheeks ruddy from recent feedings.


I leaned on the mahogany bar and waved to Ivan, the bartender. He strolled over with a grin on his freckled face. His hair,
the color of rust, was pulled into a ponytail that hung down his back. A small golden hoop twinkled from his left ear.


“What’ll it be, Sabina?”

“I’ll take a pint of O-neg with a vodka chaser.”

Ivan raised his eyebrows. “Tough night?”

“Just get the drinks.” I was being a bitch, and I knew it. Maybe a few drinks would dilute the acid gnawing at my gut.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a mocking salute.

As I waited, I scanned the bar again, tapping my fingers in time with the rhythmic drums of Godsmack’s “Voodoo.” A guy at
the end of the bar caught my eye, not because he was trying to be noticed, but because he was trying so hard not to be. His
head was down and he wore dark sunglasses. His black leather jacket hung on wide shoulders, which hunched over his drink.
But the thing that really got my attention was his hair.


All vampires have red hair—ranging from the young strawberry blondes to the ancient mahogany reds. The darker the shade, the
older the vamp. My own hair, since I was half vampire and half mage, was a streaky combination of bright red and black. We
owed this telltale sign to Cain, whom God had marked with a shock of red hair after the infamous murder of Abel. After he
was cast out, he met up with Lilith, who’d left Eden after she grew bored with Adam. Cain’s affair with Lilith resulted in
the creation of the vampire race. We got our blood thirst and immortality from Lilith, and our inability to go into the sun
and our red hair from Cain. No amount of plant dye or salon work can disguise the Mark of Cain. Like a scar, it’s the ultimate
proof of our lineage. Luckily, since so many humans also have red hair, it’s easy to blend in. Little do those humans know,
their own red shades indicate some link to the vampire bloodline in their ancestry.


The guy at the end of the bar had dirty blond hair—not a streak of red to be found. He could be a mortal, I mused, but Ewan
never let “worm food” in this part of the club. That left only one option: a mage. And a brave one at that, if he came to
the vampire club alone.


As I was thinking this, he looked up. I couldn’t see his eyes through the dark glasses, but it was obvious he was looking
at me, too. A brief but intense jolt of déjà vu passed along my spine before he looked away.


What the hell? I started to move in his direction, but Ewan intercepted me.


“Freaking actors.” He signaled to Ivan and then leaned next to me at the bar. “I had to give him a bottle of Cristal to shut
him up.”


“You should have kicked his ass out,” I said. My gaze strayed back to the mage. He’d turned his head to watch a pair of female
vamps on a divan. Red smoke escaped from between their lips as they kissed, sharing a hit from the hookah at their feet.


Ewan sighed beside me, drawing my attention from the Sapphic display. “Believe it or not, I don’t like to alienate my mortal
clientele.”


“Sell out.”

“Mortals are good tippers,” he said. “Unlike some immortals I know.”

Ivan reappeared with my drink. I tipped him a twenty, with a pointed look at Ewan.

“Great, now I can afford that mansion in Bel Air,” Ivan said, pocketing the money. I ignored him and gulped down some blood,
followed by the shot.


Ewan watched me as he sipped on his own pint. “Have you talked to David tonight?”

Here’s the thing about Ewan: His expertly mussed hair and designer clothes gave the impression he was just another party boy.
However, nothing happened in the L.A. vamp scene without his knowledge. Information was his currency. Plus, Ewan also had
an uncanny ability to read people.


I shrugged and looked at my glass. “Nope.”

“Interesting.” He took another drink, watching me over the rim. “He called here earlier and said he was on his way to meet
up with you.”


Shit. Forcing a casual shrug, I said, “Never showed.”

“Maybe he’ll stop by here then.” I could tell from his voice he didn’t expect that any more than I did. “Though he hasn’t
quite been himself lately.”


“Oh?” Glancing up, I noticed that the mage at the other end of the bar seemed to be watching us. If he hadn’t been so far
away, I would have thought from the tilt of his head he was eavesdropping. When he saw me catch him, he looked away quickly.


Ewan leaned in. “Word on the street is he’s got himself mixed up in a power struggle between the Dominae and Clovis Trakiya.”

“Power struggle?” I asked, playing dumb. “From what I’ve heard Clovis Trakiya is nothing but a nuisance for the Dominae.”

Ewan shook his head. “He’s bad news. Mixed-blood.”

My head jerked up. “Really?” Interesting, I thought. My grandmother failed to mention the mixed-blood tidbit when she gave
me the rundown on Clovis earlier. She’d just said he was a fringe nut job up north who was trying to recruit vamps.


“Yeah. Rumor is he’s half demon, if you can believe it. Anyway, he’s building some kind of army in San Francisco. But get
this, he claims it’s a religious sect.”


“A cult, you mean.”

He nodded. “Apparently, Clovis is preaching unity among the races or some shit. He’s recruiting young vamps, fae, and even
some mages.”


“He’d have to be insane to think he can overthrow the Dominae,” I said.

“Maybe. All I know is his numbers are growing. And I have it on good authority our friend David might be considering defecting
to Clovis’s camp.”


Here’s where things were going to get tricky. Obviously, I couldn’t confirm Ewan’s hunch, but denying it too passionately
might also make him suspicious.


“Come on,” I said. “David wouldn’t be that dumb.”

Ewan raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t he? You know damned well he’s had problems with the Dominae’s policies in the past. Remember
when they decided not to ban feeding from humans? He threw a fit. If I have to hear him preach the gospel of synthetic blood
one more time—” Ewan shook his head. “Anyway, I’m just telling you what the rumors are. You might want to talk to him before
he does something stupid. Like get himself killed.”


I took a long drink to hide my reaction that that little gem. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was goading me into
admitting my crime. But there was no way even Ewan would have heard so soon.


“I’m just sayin’, Sabina. Because you know if your grandmother catches wind of the slightest hint he might be in bed with
Clovis, she’ll have David killed.”


I raised the glass in one sweaty palm and gestured to Ivan for another. “I’ll handle it,” I snapped. The irony of this statement
wasn’t lost on me. But at the moment, I just. . .