All Hell Breaks Loose

COPYRIGHT

Published by Sharon M Hannaford

Copyright © 2011 Sharon M Hannaford

Cover art by
Erin Kuhle

This is a work of fiction.  All names, characters, places and occurrences are fictitious and are not to be construed as real.  Any resemblance to actual persons, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or means, electronic or mechanical, without permission from the copyright holder.

DEDICATION

For me, the dedication is reserved for the person or people who were imperative to the existence of the book.

So I’d like to dedicate this book to the readers, and most especially the fans (henceforth known, at least by me, as my Hellions), of Hellcat Series Book 1. 
Your reviews, e-mails,
Facebook
& twitter messages and your support, by purchasing my work, led to the creation of this: the 2
nd
instalment of the Hellcat Series.

From me to you – a very sincere and heartfelt thank you.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

While writing can be a lonely endeavour, a project
like this
is never achieved alone.  My thanks must be dished out in generous spoonfuls to many people. 

T
he
U
sual
S
uspects: Brian and Tim for the practical advice and ongoing support and enthusiasm.  Mom and Mel for being my Ra-Ra girls and helping me see the negative stuff in a new light. 
Karin and Jacqui for your invaluable insights and the priceless gift of your time.
 

Also
the people who put the spit and polish on my work; my fabulous editor; Pauline Nolet and my talented graphic artist, Erin Kuhle.
   

Very s
pecial thanks to all the friends and family who took the time to celebrate the success of Book 1 with me.  Your good wishes
, raised glasses
and congratulations meant more than you can know.

G and
RobBob
you are my world, though that world is about to grow a little
bigger

. Thanks for being with me on the rollercoaster
, and understanding the occasional grumpiness
.  I love you both insanely. 

Prologue

Julius sat in the darkness and watched the moonlight play over the contours of her face.  It was a warm night, and he’d opened the windows to let some fresh air into the stuffy medical suite.  Most of the bruising had faded from deep purple to mottled green and yellow, and the swelling on the right side of her face had begun to subside.  She would be able to open both her eyes now.  He didn’t want her to wake, though. It was better that she slept while he tried to sort through his raging emotions.  He knew he should stay away from her entirely, but he couldn’t.  She’d been his Siren since the first time he’d encountered her on top of a roof in the City centre. 

There she’d stood, calm and defiant in the face of over a dozen Vampires, with a dislocated shoulder, fractured collarbone and blood oozing from a Vampire bite wound.
Petite, with a deceptively feminine figure and a mass of auburn curls, it was, at first, difficult to understand why they called her Angeli Morte. 
Until you looked into her eyes when she was focused on an enemy.
 
Until you watched her fight something evil.
  Then, it was easy to believe the stories. 

He’d been compelled to learn more about her, to discover why she was driven to be so strong, so tough,
so
indomitable.  His investigations revealed that she had a lot to live up to.  Her father had been the original Vampire slayer of the City.  He and his sidekick Byron had made it their mission in life to eliminate
rogue
supernaturals
, after Gabi’s mother had been attacked by a Vampire in an alleyway.  The Vampires of the City could count themselves lucky that another Vampire came on the scene and fought off the
rogue
.  At least Gabi’s father had been made aware that Vampires, like humans, had their good apples as well as bad.  If he’d only seen the bad side, there was a good chance he’d have wiped out every Vampire that ever set foot in the City.  The man was still spoken of in awed whispers.  He’d been killed by a powerful Vampire when Gabi was still young.  It wasn’t a job to be doing if you wanted to live to see your pension.  There was always going to be one mistake that cost you too dearly.

Julius wondered if Byron felt guilt over the other man’s death.  After all, Byron was the one with Magus
blood
, though he hadn’t taken up his powers, while Gabi’s father was purely human, and Byron had still allowed him to go after
rogues
alone.  Had they just been young and cocky?  Was guilt the reason he was so protective of Gabi now?  Was it the reason he hadn’t allowed her to join the vaunted ranks of the Societas Malus Venatori until after she’d proven she’d be going
Hunting
with or without the SMV’s backing.  Julius had firsthand experience of her innate stubbornness, so he knew why Byron had given in to her eventually.  Julius knew exactly where Gabi got her emotional strength and unwavering determination.  His inquiries painted a picture of a woman motivated by the need to feel that her father would be proud of her.  A woman who had to be the best at what she did in order to honour her father’s memory.  Her father could never have guessed at how remarkable she would become, or how truly incredible the miracle of her birth was.

Julius would never have guessed for himself where her inhuman talents originated from.  He’d assumed she was some kind of
Werewolf
anomaly.  She was faster and stronger than a human, healed quicker and was preternaturally agile.  The only piece of the Gabi enigma that didn’t fit with the
Werewolf
theory was her abilities with animals.  Animals reacted badly to
Werewolves
; either attacking on sight or, more often, turning tail and running like hell in the opposite direction.  Animals adored Gabi.  Lions became purring cuddle-kittens, vicious dogs turned into drooling puddles of lovable, wild horses practically knelt in front of her.  She was careful to keep it within believable range in front of humans, but he’d heard the underground stories, and he knew there was little exaggeration.

Then he’d arrived home one night to find Gabi in full blown Red Rage—an affliction that affected Vampires, mostly young ones, who hadn’t learned to control their emotions and temper.  Finally she revealed that she’d been in her mother’s womb, little more than a bunch of cells, when
her mother had inadvertently swallowed Vampire blood during the fight between the Vampire
rogue
and her Vampire saviour.  That was when the puzzle piece had finally clicked into place.  There was only one other species who was reported to experience Red Rage. 
A species that, to Vampires, was like Bigfoot to humans, a myth, a legend, often spoken of but never documented.
 
The Vampire Holy Grail.
 
A
Daywalker
; one with Vampire blood running in their veins, but not fully Vampire.
  One who could walk in sunlight, eat human food, didn’t fall into a coma when asleep. 
A Dhampir.

The process of creating a Dhampir had been lost in the mists of time.  It was believed, by the oldest existing Vampires, that the details had been handed down solely by word of mouth, and the secret had been fiercely guarded by those who were privy to it.  There was no record of a Dhampir existing for over three hundred years.  It was assumed the last few with the knowledge of their creation had been killed in the European Vampire cleansing of the early 1700s.  Over the years, many had tried to recreate the Dhampir, but all attempts had failed in one way or another. 
Some more gruesomely than others.
  The stories had, at some point, transformed into myth rather than fact, and these days, the Dhampir legend was considered by most to be a Vampire fairy tale.  Julius now knew differently.

He also knew it was imperative to keep the knowledge hidden.  Above all else he needed to keep the truth of Gabi’s heritage from the
Princeps
; the governing Council of Vampires.  He knew they would move heaven and earth to lay claim to her.  They would do anything to possess and control her.  He also understood why the secret had been so closely guarded.  If the truth became common knowledge, attacks on pregnant human women would increase exponentially.  It was not an acceptable outcome as far as he was concerned.  Protection of women and children had been drilled into his head from an early age.  As the eldest son of a Baron, Julius had been groomed to take over the reins from his father; a good man, who loved his wife and children and swore fealty to King and country.  But that life had been snatched from him by Simone, the seductress, the
Vampiress
. 

As he listened to the steady, reassuring beep of Gabi’s heart-rate monitor, echoed by the actual sound of her heartbeat, he thought for the thousandth time how fragile she actually was.  Not as fragile as a human, true, but nowhere near as indestructible as a Vampire or
Werewolf
.  Seeing her bruised face, knowing she was covered in stitches and casts and bandages under the sheet was an unrelenting source of guilt and remorse.  She’d been kidnapped and tortured by
his own
brother.  His brother, who Simone had
Turned
in spite. 
Revenge for Julius’s rejection.
  His father had lost two sons in the course of a few years and it had nearly destroyed him.  Only the strength and support of Julius’s mother had kept his father going.  His joyous, slightly air-headed mother,
who’d
named her children for characters from her favourite stories of the time. 

Julius had watched from afar, never daring to get close enough for them to know he was still alive, in a manner of speaking.  Dantè had joined Simone, quickly falling into a life of cruelty and depravity.  Julius knew that he should have put an end to his brother’s second life immediately.  But he had been incapable of delivering the final blow.  He’d had Dantè at the end of a knife or sword more times than he could count over the centuries, threatening to kill him if he didn’t change his ways.  But not once had he truly been tempted to end his brother’s existence.

Dantè had known it, had counted on it when he’d hatched his new plan to take over the City that Julius was Master Vampire of.  What he hadn’t counted on was how Julius felt about Gabi.  Dantè could never have known that torturing her would finally be the chip that shattered the window. 
The one thing unforgiveable enough to force Julius’s hand.
  Now Julius had to live with the consequences.  The blood of his own brother was on his hands, as well as the pain and emotional damage suffered by Gabi.  His Lea, his Lioness.  The anxiety and the guilt were driving him mad.  A tight ball of angst sat in his chest like a rock.  He was torturing himself further by watching over her while she slept.  Not allowing himself time with her when she was conscious, not wanting to see the understanding and sympathy on her face again. 
Her own
guilt for not saving him from doing what he should’ve done centuries ago.

She mumbled something in her sleep, moving restlessly, moaning in pain as she as she tried to turn onto her side.  Wires and tubes and monitoring equipment attached to her body thwarted her efforts, and she grew irritable, tugging at them.  Julius moved quickly to calm her.  He untangled the IV line from her arm and moved the heart monitor cable aside.  Then he ran a hand
gently down the
less
injured side of her face.  Razor, her enormous pet cat, moved up from his position near the foot of the bed.