Dark Beauty (Seeker) by Taryn Browning

 
     
     
     
    Chapter 1
     
    Lesson three of Seeker Training—always be prepared.
    Isabelle Crowe hid behind a dumpster. There were at least three of them. As with all Seekers, she could feel them. Her skin crawled, and the hair along her arms stood on end.
    She armed herself with her stake, her fingers gripping the wood’s smooth surface. She switched hands and ran her damp palm over her jeans. Her first kill – well, real kill. All the others had occurred during field training. Now fifteen, Isabelle could go out on her own.
    She had chosen a tank top and stretch jeans for her first night out without her mentor. With the temperature still in the high 80s, the humidity threatened to clog her lungs. Coming from the semi-arid climate of Boise City, Oklahoma, fighting in the Houston heat was going to be a challenge. She was definitely no longer in the high plains, or surrounded by her Native American ancestors. Isabelle glimpsed down at the lines of sweat on her tank and huffed. She didn’t even have to move around to break a sweat. The air itself was soggy.
    Once again, she readied herself to attack. A police car shot down the street outside the alley, followed by another. After the whirling sirens faded, she sprang out behind the dumpster and smacked right into a tall, unfamiliar guy.
    “Whoa, aren’t you being a little premature?” The guy held his strong hands out to block her forward progress. Eyeing her with the deepest blue stare, he said, “There are three of them and one of you. This is your first ‘real’ kill. Don’t you think you should work your way up?”
    “Uh, who are you again?” Isabelle raised her stake. To hell with him. She had a job to do, and she’d waited a freaking long time to go out on her own.
    He laughed. “What, are you going to stake me?” He ran his hand through his dark hair and smirked at her condescendingly.  
    Screw him. By the amount of stakes shoved into the waist of his jeans, Isabelle could tell he was a Seeker. So the question was— why was he here? There was only one Seeker assigned to each city, and he had the audacity to mock her in her territory.
    “Is there a reason you’re in my city?” she said.
    “Those dark eyes of yours are so angry. Beautiful, but bitter. Isabelle, you’d think I staked your kill.” He edged her back behind the dumpster and extended his hand. “I’m Abram Mitchell, fourth-year Seeker.”
    Isabelle scowled, ignoring his gesture. “I’d say this isn’t a proper introduction, since it seems you already know my name.” She laughed. “And what, am I supposed to be intimidated by our three-year age difference?”
    “Aww, dark beauty, why so angry? It really isn’t becoming.” His arrogance and smugness was enough to make Isabelle want to hurl.
     “I’m Cherokee; we tend to have dark features,” she said.
    Abram stroked her long, black hair. “You really should tie that back when you’re seeking.”
    She swatted his hand away and held her ground. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you in my city?”
    He shrugged. “You’re new. Your mentor thought you could use a more experienced Seeker to show you how it’s done.” He leaned forward, resting his hand on the brick building behind her, pinning her uncomfortably between him and the wall.
    “I already know how it’s done. Stake ‘em.” She slid out of the Abram wall-sandwich, preferring the hot brick to his advances.
    “Ah, you would say that. Guess you haven’t heard.”
    “Heard what?”
    “The vamps aren’t the only ones to be concerned about,” he said. “Word is Tavares, the vampire king, has been creating his own species. There aren’t many of them, but if you come across one, you’re going to need to know how to kill him.”
    She half-laughed. “You’re lying.”
    “Suit yourself, but don’t blame me when a stake through the heart doesn’t take them out.”
    “My mentor would have told me about this, not just sent some arrogant jerk to