Ripper by Lexi Blake

stores, restaurants, and small, exclusive companies. I noted, as I polished off a really excellent beef taco, that while all the other streets in the area had pedestrians walking on them, this street was completely empty. It was kind of odd. I studied the small block of townhomes. There were six in all and they looked like they had serious square footage. Probably three bedrooms or more. So where were the cars in the driveways? Where were the silly signs on the doors that announced the house was established in such and such year? Where were the bikes, dumped in the yards by kids running in the house to dinner? Where was anyone at all?
    The lights in the middle townhouse came on at precisely six forty-three. Sundown. The hairs on my forearms stood straight up. Now I knew why there weren’t bikes on the lawns. I would bet my life that all six townhomes were connected on the inside and I was staring at a vampire club.
    I took a deep breath because a couple of things were becoming clear to me. One, Joanne Taylor had been playing a dangerous game. She was a hooker, but it went beyond that. Vampires wanted more than sex. Oh, from what I understood, they wanted the sex. Vampires could feed off sexual energy, but their primary source of energy was always blood. Sometimes the vamp got a little overeager and took too much. Joanne might be stronger than a regular human, but she needed the proper blood volume to survive. The second fact I realized while staring at that club really scared me. The freaking Vampire Council had to be involved. If she was working at a vampire club, then the Council knew about it.
    I didn’t want to get involved with the Council.
    Everything I knew about vampires I knew from my father and from the stories my mother has told me. Mom’s dad was a hunter, but not exactly one like my dad. He’d hunted at the request of the Council or a pack where, for political reasons, the alpha chose not to dispense justice himself. Every so often my grandfather would get a call and he would leave his backwoods home in East Texas and hunt down some supernatural creature that had gone crazy or caused too much trouble. Granddad was particularly good at hunting werewolves. He always had an order of execution and he only killed wolves who met the criteria for a “righteous” kill.
    My dad was pretty much the opposite. While Granddad had many friends in the local packs and was respected, my father was a revenge hunter. I twisted the top off a beer and let it coat my throat as I thought about my father. His mom and sister had been torn apart by a wolf who went crazy. My granddad had been the one to hunt the wolf and he’d found my seventeen-year-old father in the process. He felt bad for the kid and brought him home where he taught him everything he knew about hunting. I would like to have known my granddad better, but he died before my father left us and we weren’t permitted to have anything to do with a traitor. Mom had only managed to sneak away to visit her dad a few times. While my father had been more than happy to take my grandfather’s training and his daughter, once Dad had everything he needed he decided to have nothing more to do with the old man. Having a friend or two in the nonhuman world was the same thing as treason in my father’s mind. I suppose my brothers’ and my lifestyle were a big old “fuck you” to Dad.
    I shook my head and took another swallow. My mind was wandering. Dad had known the basics about vampires. Rule number one—don’t fuck around with vampires. Rule number two—see rule number one. Vampires are a genetic anomaly. There’s something in their DNA that clicks on when death occurs. The vampire rises and takes blood and then, as long as he continues to take blood, his body functions. The vampire is stronger than a human. Most are stronger than wolves and shifters. They develop different powers over the years and this forms their class system. Warriors tend to be the strongest of the