MIDNIGHT

AWAKENING

LARA ADRIAN

To the phoenix that lives in all of us:
strong, glorious, indestructible. 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

With gratitude and appreciation to my editor, Shauna Summers, and everyone on the publishing team at Bantam Dell, and to my agent, Karen Solem. It truly is a joy working with you all!

Big hugs to Zazoo, Picky, Gem, Jules, Pebbles, Sly, Rangi, Mandy, and the rest of the amazing crew at the Midnight Breed fan forum for all your friendship, love, and support (not to mention the gorgeous eye candy!). You blow me away with everything you do!

A debt of thanks to my writer friends Kayla Gray, Patricia Rasey, Elizabeth Boyle, Larissa Ione, Jaci Burton, and Stephanie Tyler for understanding when I need to unplug from the world for often weeks at a time, yet still stand by, ready to pick up right where we left off or jump in with a quick read. You are the best!

Last, but never least, thanks and all my love to my husband for giving me the kind of happily-ever-after that many would say could only exist in fiction. Here’s to the next twenty years.

CHAPTER ONE

She walked among them undetected, just another afternoon rush-hour commuter trudging through the fresh February snowfall on her way to the train station. No one paid any mind at all to the petite female in the hooded oversized parka, her scarf concealing her face to just below her eyes, which watched the crowds of human pedestrians with keen interest. Too keen, she knew, but she couldn’t help it.

She was anxious being out among them, and impatient to find her prey.

Her head rang with the pound of rock music blaring in through the tiny earbuds of a portable MP3 player. It wasn’t hers. It had belonged to her teenage son – to Camden. Sweet Cam, who’d died just four months ago, a victim of the underworld war that Elise herself was now a part of as well. He was the reason she was here, prowling Boston’s crowded streets with a dagger in her coat pocket and a titanium-edged blade strapped to her thigh.

More than ever now, Camden was the reason she lived.

His death could not go unavenged.

Elise crossed at a traffic light and moved up the road toward the station. She could see people talking as she passed them, their lips moving silently, their words – more important, their thoughts – drowned out by the aggressive lyrics, screaming guitars, and pulsing throb of bass that filled her ears and vibrated in her bones. She didn’t know precisely what she was listening to, nor did it matter. All she needed was the noise, played loud enough and long enough to get her into place for the hunt.

She entered the building, just one more person in a river of moving humanity. Harsh light spilled down from fluorescent tubes in the ceiling. The odor of street filth and dampness and too many bodies assailed her nose through her scarf. Elise walked farther inside, coming to a slow pause in the center of the station. Forced to divide around her, the flowing crowd passed on either side, many bumping into her, jostling her in their haste to make the next train. More than one glared as they passed, mouthing obscenities over her abrupt halt in the middle of their path.

God, how she despised all of this contact, but it was necessary. She took a steadying breath, then reached into her pocket and turned off the music. The din of the station rushed upon her like a wave, engulfing her with the racket of voices, shuffling feet, the traffic outside, and the metallic grate and rumble of the incoming train. But these noises were nothing compared to the others that swamped her now.

Ugly thoughts, bad intentions, secret sins, open hatreds – all of it churned around her like a black tempest, human corruption seeking her out and hammering into her senses. It staggered her, as always, that first rush of ill wind nearly overwhelming her. Elise swayed on her feet. She fought the nausea that rose within her and tried her best to weather the psychic assault.

– Such a bitch, I hope they fire her ass –

– Goddamn hick tourists, why don’t you go back where you belong –

– Idiot! Outta my way, or I’ll friggin’ knock you flat –

– So what if she’s my wife’s sister? Not like she wasn’t after me all this time –

Elise’s breath was coming faster with each second, a headache blooming in her temples. The voices in her mind blended into ceaseless, almost indistinguishable chatter, but she held on, bracing herself as the train arrived and its doors opened to let a new sea of people pour out onto the platform. They spilled around her, more voices added to the cacophony that was shredding her from the inside.

– Panhandling losers ought to put the same effort into getting a damn job –

– I swear, he puts his hand on me one more time, I’ma kill the sumbitch –

– Run, cattle! Run back to your pens! Pathetic creatures, my Master is right, you do deserve to be enslaved –

Elise’s eyes snapped wide. Her blood turned to ice in her veins the instant the words registered in her mind. This was the one voice she waited to hear.

The one she came here to hunt.

She didn’t know the name of her prey, or even what he looked like, but she knew what he was: a Minion. Like the others of his kind, he had been human once, but now he was something less than that. His humanity had been bled away by the one he called Master, a powerful vampire and the leader of the Rogues. It was because of them – the Rogues and the evil one guiding them in a growing war within the vampire race – that Elise’s only son was dead.

After being widowed five years ago, Camden was all she’d had left, all that mattered in her life. With his loss, she’d found a new purpose. An unwavering resolve. It was that resolve she leaned upon now, commanding her feet to move through the thick crowd, searching for the one she’d make pay for Camden’s death this time.

Her head spun with the continued bombardment of painful, ugly thoughts, but finally she managed to single out the Minion. He stalked ahead of her by several yards, his head covered by a black knit cap, his body draped in a tattered, faded green camouflage jacket. Animosity poured out of him like acid. His corruption was so total, Elise could taste it like bile in the back of her throat. And she had no choice but to stick close to him, waiting for her chance to make her move.

The Minion exited the station and headed up the sidewalk at a fast clip. Elise followed, her fingers wrapped tightly around the dagger in her pocket. Outside with fewer people, the psychic blare had lessened, but the pain of overload in the station was still present, boring into her skull like a steel spike. Elise kept her eyes trained on her quarry, picking up her speed as he ducked into a business off the street. She came up to the glass door and peered past the painted FedEx logo to see the Minion waiting in line for the counter.

‘Excuse me, miss,’ someone said from behind her, startling her with the sound of a true voice, and not the buzz of words that were still filling her head. ‘You going inside or what, lady?’

The man behind her pushed open the door as he said it, holding it for her expectantly. She hadn’t intended to go in, but now everyone was looking at her – the Minion included – and it would draw more attention to herself if she refused. Elise strode into the brightly lit business and immediately feigned interest in a display of shipping boxes in the front window.

From her periphery, she watched as the Minion waited his turn in line. He was edgy and violent-minded, his thoughts berating the customers ahead of him. Finally he approached the counter, ignoring the clerk’s greeting.

‘Pickup for Raines.’

The attendant typed something into a computer, then hesitated a second. ‘Hang on.’ He headed to a back room, only to return a moment later shaking his head. ‘It hasn’t arrived yet. Sorry ’bout that.’

Fury rolled off the Minion, tightening like a vise around Elise’s temples. ‘What do you mean, ‘it hasn’t arrived’?’

‘Most of New York got hit with a big snowstorm last night, so a lot of today’s shipments have been delayed—’

‘This shit’s supposed to be guaranteed,’ the Minion snarled.

‘Yeah, it is. You can get your money back, but you have to fill out a claim—’

‘Fuck the claim, you moron! I need that package. Now!’

My Master will have my ass if I don’t turn up with this delivery, and if my ass goes in a sling, I’m going to come back here and rip your goddamn lungs out.

Elise drew in her breath at the virulence of the unspoken threat. She knew the Minions lived only to serve the one who made them, but it was always a shock to hear the terrible depth of their allegiance. Nothing was sacred to their kind. Lives meant nothing, be they human or Breed. Minions were nearly as awful as the Rogues, the bloodthirsty, criminal faction of the vampire nation.

The Minion leaned over the counter, fists braced on either side of him. ‘I need that package, asshole. I’m not leaving without it.’

The clerk backed away, his expression suddenly gone wary. He grabbed the phone. ‘Look, man, as I’ve explained to you, there’s nothing more I can do for you on this. You’re gonna have to come back tomorrow. Right now, you need to leave before I call the police.’

Useless piece of shit, the Minion growled inwardly. I’ll come back tomorrow all right. Just you wait ’til I come back for you!

‘Is there a problem here, Joey?’ An older man came out from the back, all business.

‘I tried to tell him that his stuff ain’t here yet on account of the storm, but he won’t give it up. Like maybe I’m supposed to pull it out of my a—’

‘Sir?’ the manager said, cutting off his employee and pinning the Minion with a serious look. ‘I’m going to ask you politely to leave now. You need to go, or the police will be called to escort you out of here.’

The Minion growled something indistinguishable but nasty. He slammed his fist down on the countertop, then whirled around and started stalking away. As he neared the door where Elise stood, he swept over a floor display, sending rolls of tape and bubble packs scattering to the floor. Although Elise stepped back, the Minion was coming too hard toward her. He glared down at her with vacant, inhuman eyes.

‘Get out of my way, cow!’

She’d barely moved before he barreled past her and out the door, pushing so hard the glass panes rattled like they were going to shatter.

‘Asshole,’ one of the patrons still in line muttered once the Minion had gone.

Elise felt the wave of relief wash over the other customers at his departure. Part of her was relieved too, glad that no one met with harm. She wanted to wait for a while in the momentary calm in the store, but it was an indulgence she couldn’t afford. The Minion was storming across the street now, and dusk was coming fast.

She only had half an hour at best before darkness fell and the Rogues came out to feed. If what she did was dangerous in the daytime, at night it was nothing short of suicide. She could slay a Minion with stealth and steel – already had, in fact, more than once – but like any other human, female or not, she stood no chance against the blood-addicted strength of the Rogues.

Girding herself for what she had to do, Elise slipped out the door and followed the Minion up the street. He was angry and walking brusquely, slamming into other pedestrians and snarling curses at them as he passed. A barrage of mental pain filled her head as more voices joined the din already clanging in her mind, but Elise kept pace with her target. She hung a few yards behind, her eyes trained on the pale green bulk of his jacket through the light flurry of fresh snow. He swung left around the corner of a building and into a narrow alley. Elise hurried now, desperate not to lose him.

Midway down the side street, he yanked open a battered steel door and disappeared. She crept up to the windowless slab of metal, palms sweating despite the chill in the air. His violent thoughts filled her head – murderous thoughts, all the grisly things he would do out of deference to his Master.

Elise reached into her pocket to withdraw her dagger. She held it close to her side, poised to strike, but concealed behind the long drape of her coat. With her free hand, she grasped the latch and pulled open the unlocked door. Snowflakes swirled ahead of her into the gloomy vestibule that reeked of mildew and old cigarette smoke. The Minion stood near a bank of mail slots, one shoulder leaning against the wall as he flipped open a cell phone like the ones they all carried – the Minions’ direct line to their vampire Master.

‘Shut the fucking door, bitch!’ he snapped, soulless eyes glinting. His brows dropped into a scowl as Elise moved toward him with swift, deadly purpose. ‘What the hell is th—’

She drove the dagger hard into his chest, knowing that the element of surprise was one of her best advantages. His anger hit her like a physical blow, pushing her backward. His corruption seeped into her mind like acid, burning her senses. Elise struggled through the psychic pain, coming back to strike him again with the blade, ignoring the sudden wet heat of his blood spilling onto her hand.

The Minion sputtered, grasping out for her as he fell against her. His wound was mortal, so much blood she nearly lost her stomach at the sight and smell of it. Elise twisted out of the Minion’s heavy lean and leaped out of the way as he fell to the floor. Her breath was sawing out of her lungs, her heart racing, her head splitting in agony as the mental barrage of his rage continued in her mind.

The Minion thrashed and hissed as death overtook him. Then, finally, he stilled.

Finally, there was silence.

With trembling fingers, Elise retrieved the cell phone from where it lay at her feet and slipped it into her pocket. The slaying had drained her, the combined physical and psychic exertion almost too much to bear. Each time seemed to weigh more heavily on her, take longer for her to recover. She wondered if the day would come that she might slide so deep into the abyss that she’d not rebound at all. Probably, she guessed, but not today. And she would keep fighting so long as she had breath in her body and the pain of loss in her heart.

‘For Camden,’ she whispered, staring down at the dead Minion as she clicked on the MP3 player in preparation of her return home. Music blared from the tiny earbuds, muting the gift that gave her the power to hear the darkest secrets of a human’s soul.

She’d heard enough for now.

Her day’s sober mission complete, Elise pivoted around and fled the carnage she’d wrought.

CHAPTER TWO

The scent of blood carried on the thin, wintry breeze. It was faint, fresh, a coppery tickle in the nostrils of the vampire warrior who leaped soundlessly from the roof of one dusk-shadowed building to another. Snowflakes fell around him like floating white ash, blanketing the city that spread out beneath him some six stories down.

Tegan crouched at the ledge and surveyed the tangle of bustling streets and alleyways. As one of the Order – a small cadre of Breed vampires engaged in war against their savage brethren, the Rogues – Tegan’s primary nightly objective was dealing death to his enemies. It was something he did with a cold efficiency, a skill perfected during his more than seven centuries of existence. But down to his marrow, he was Breed, and there were none among his kind who could ignore the call of newly spilled human blood.

He curled back his lips and dragged the cold air in through his teeth. His gums tingled, an ache blooming where his canines began to stretch into fangs. His vision sharpened beyond its preternatural acuity, pupils narrowing into thin vertical slits in the center of his green eyes. The urge to hunt – to feed – rose up in him swiftly. It was an automatic response that even he, with his disciplined, iron self-control, could do little to suppress.

All the worse for him, being of the first generation of vampires spawned on Earth. Gen One appetites – physical, carnal, and otherwise – burned the strongest.

Tegan crept along the edge of the building, then leaped down onto the roof of another, his eyes rooted on the movement of people below, searching for the weak member in the herd. But he didn’t comb the crowds merely to satisfy his own needs: find a human with an open flesh wound, and he knew for a fact that any Rogues within a mile radius would not be far behind.

Except now that he was zeroing in on the source of the blood scent, he realized that what he smelled had an increasingly stale edge to it. It was spilled blood. Not fresh at all, but several minutes old.

Following the metallic odor, Tegan’s gaze lit on a short, slight figure in a long hooded parka who was hurrying up the main thoroughfare, past the train station. There was an anxious clip to the person’s gait, an obvious desire not to be noticed in the low tilt of the head as it cut away from a crowd of pedestrians and headed for an empty side street.

‘What the hell have you been up to?’ Tegan murmured under his breath as he tracked the individual.

Male or female, he couldn’t be sure under all that dark, quilted down. Either way, the human was about to get some very unwanted company.

Tegan saw the Rogue an instant before it came out of hiding near a Dumpster several yards ahead of the human. He couldn’t hear the words being said, but he could tell by the vampire’s swagger and glowing amber eyes that it was taunting the person – just having a little fun before it made its move. Two more Rogues came around the corner from behind now, hemming the human in.

‘Damn it,’ Tegan growled, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

He’d never had much use for the shiny brand of honor that demanded his kind act as unsung saviors to the humans who inhabited the planet with them. Even half-human himself, as was all of the Breed, Tegan had long ago given up needing to be the hero. He’d seen too much bloodshed, too much senseless slaughter and tragic waste from both sides.

His purpose now and for the past five hundred years – since the brutal torture and death of the only woman he’d ever loved – was simple enough: take out as many Rogues as possible, or die trying. He didn’t really give a shit which came first.

But there was an ancient part of him that still bristled at the thought of grossly unfair odds, like the situation taking place on the street below.

The human in the bloodstained parka was being surrounded. Like sharks moving in for a kill, the Rogues started closing ranks. The hooded head came up suddenly, pivoted around to note the threat closing in from behind. Too late, though. No human stood a chance against one Bloodlusting suckhead, let alone a pack of three.

With a curse, Tegan advanced his position and jumped to a lower rooftop above the alleyway.

Just as the Rogue in front of the human lunged into action.

Tegan heard a sharp intake of breath – a female gasp of terror – as the Rogue grabbed for its prey. It seized the front of the woman’s hood and threw her down on the snow-covered pavement, letting loose a howl of savage amusement as she took the hard fall.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Tegan hissed, already drawing a large blade from the sheath at his hip.

With a running leap, he dropped down from the ledge of the building, landing smoothly on the ground in a low crouch. The two Rogues nearest him split up, one taking cover while the other shouted that they were under attack. Tegan silenced the warning in mid-sentence, slicing his length of titanium-edged steel across the suckhead’s throat.

A few yards ahead of him in the alleyway, the female was on her stomach, scrabbling to get away from her assailant. She had a weapon too, Tegan was surprised to see, but the Rogue noticed it at the same time and kicked it out of her hand. The Rogue planted the heavy sole of his boot on the center of her back, pinning her to the ground with his heel jammed hard into her spine.

Tegan was on him at once. He threw the Rogue off the woman, driving the snarling vampire into the side of the brick building and holding it there with his forearm wedged under the suckhead’s chin.

‘Get out of here!’ he shouted to the human as she started to drag herself up off the ground. ‘Run!’

She flung a frightened look over her shoulder – the first glimpse Tegan got of her face. His gaze locked on to a pair of huge, pale lavender eyes. The woman stared at him from over the top of a dark knit scarf that could hardly disguise the delicate beauty beneath it.

Holy shit.

He knew her.

And she wasn’t just a random human female; she was a Breedmate. A young widow from one of the vampire nation’s Darkhaven sanctuaries in the city. Tegan didn’t know her well. He hadn’t seen her for several months, not since the night he’d taken her home from the Order’s compound after she’d learned her only son had gone Rogue.

It was the last he had seen of her, but it hadn’t been the last time he’d thought about her.

Elise.

What the hell was she doing here?

Tegan’s flat stare held Elise transfixed for a moment that seemed to stretch out endlessly. She saw a flash of recognition in the warrior’s unblinking gaze, felt the cold blast of his fury emanating toward her across the distance that separated them.

‘Tegan,’ she whispered, astonished to see that it was him coming to her rescue. She’d first met the terrifying warrior around the time that her son had gone missing. Tegan had been the one to take her home from the Order’s compound after she’d learned Camden had fallen in with the Rogues. He’d shown her kindness in that late night ride back to her Darkhaven home, and although she hadn’t seen the warrior in the four months since, she hadn’t forgotten his unexpected compassion.

But none of that was present in him now. Battle rage had fully transformed his face to that of his true nature – a Breed vampire, with gleaming fangs and fierce eyes that were no longer their usual gem-green, but swamped with bright, glowing amber that burned like twin flames in his skull.

‘Run!’ he shouted, the deep, otherworldly growl of his voice cutting through the blare of music still pouring into her head from the earbuds she wore. ‘Get out of here – now!’

That brief inattention cost him. The Rogue he had pinned to the bricks in front of him twisted its big head, jaws wide, huge fangs dripping saliva. It bit down hard on Tegan’s forearm, ripping into the warrior’s muscled flesh. Without a sound of pain or anger, only chillingly swift efficiency, Tegan brought his other hand up and buried a blade in the Rogue’s neck. The diseased vampire dropped, lifeless, its corpse sizzling from the titanium that poisoned its corrupt bloodstream.

Tegan whirled around, his breath sawing out from between his lips, clouding in the chill air. ‘Goddamn it, woman – go!’ he roared, just as the remaining Rogue vaulted into a further attack on him.

Elise jolted into movement.

She sped out of the alleyway and onto another street, running as fast as her legs would carry her. The small apartment she rented wasn’t far, just a few long blocks from the train station, but it seemed like miles. She was exhausted from her own ordeal that day, shaking from the violence she’d just witnessed in the alley.

She was worried for Tegan too, even though she was certain he didn’t need her concern. He was a member of the Order, probably the most lethal of them all, if his reputation was anything to go by. He was a killing machine according to all who knew his name. Seeing him here in action for herself, Elise didn’t doubt it for a second.

And now that she’d been discovered alone in the city, she could only hope that the warrior would take no interest in what she was doing. She couldn’t allow herself to be pushed back into the Darkhavens, not even by a male as fearsome as Tegan.

Elise ran the last block to her apartment and raced up the concrete steps. The main door used to be keyed access, but someone broke the lock five weeks ago and the building super hadn’t gotten around to fixing it yet. Elise pushed the door open and dashed down the first floor hallway to her unit. She unlocked the dead bolt and slipped inside, immediately flipping on all the lights.

The stereo and television went on next – tuned to nothing in particular, but both playing loudly. Elise pulled off the MP3 player and set it down on the chipped yellow kitchen counter, along with the dead Minion’s cell phone. She ditched her ruined parka on the floor next to her treadmill, her stomach turning as the bare bulb hanging from the combination dining-living room ceiling washed over the dark red stains from the Minion’s blood. It was on her hands too; her fingers were sticky with gore.

And her head was still pounding, the usual vicious migraine that came in the wake of any prolonged period of using her skill. It wasn’t as bad right now as it would be soon. She still had time to clean up and try to get herself to bed before the worst of it hit her.

Elise dragged herself into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Her fingers were trembling as she unfastened the leather knife sheath from her thigh and placed it on the sink. The sheath was empty. She’d lost the titanium blade in the snow when the Rogue kicked it out of her grasp. She had others to replace it. A lot of the money she’d left the Darkhavens with had gone into weapons and training equipment – things she had never wanted to know anything about but now considered necessities.

Lord, how drastically her life had changed in just four months.

She could never go back to what she was. In her heart, she knew there could be no going back now. The person she had been all the time she’d lived under the protection of the Breed was gone now – dead, like her beloved mate and her son. The pain of those losses had been a furnace that devoured her old life, reduced it to cinder. She was what was left – the phoenix that rose out of the ash.

Elise glanced up into the fogging mirror and met her own haunted gaze in the glass. Blood smeared her cheek and chin, grime smudged her brow, all of it like warpaint. There was a feral glint in the weary eyes staring back at her.

God, she was tired … so tired. But so long as she could stand, she could fight. So long as her heart still ached for vengeance, she would use the psychic gift that had for so long been her greatest weakness. She would endure any hardship, face any risk. She would sell her everlasting soul if she must. Whatever it took to have justice.