Bitter Bite

Read Bitter Bite Online

Authors: Erin M. Leaf

 

 

 

 

Evernight
Publishing ®

 

www.evernightpublishing.com

 

 

 

Copyright©
2015 Erin M. Leaf

 

 

 
ISBN: 978-1-77233-406-7

 

Cover
Artist: Jay
Aheer

 

Editor:
Melissa
Hosack

 

 

 

ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED

 

 

WARNING:
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is
illegal.
 
No part of this book may be
used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

 

This
is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

 

 

DEDICATION

 

To my true love.

 

BITTER BITE

 

 

Erin M. Leaf

 

Copyright © 2015

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

Alaric Normand pinched the matchstick’s flame into darkness and
leaned over the newly lit candle. The wax smelled of dust and neglect because
very few people came to this alcove to pray for their dead loved ones these
days. The wick sputtered for a moment, and then caught fire, illuminating the
red votive glass with a flickering light that never failed to soothe him.

“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen,” he
murmured. The words didn’t mean much to him anymore, but they were familiar.
They helped him remember his mother’s face. He smiled as he recalled the way
she used to curse under her breath when her hair wouldn’t lay right over her left
temple. They were always late to church because she couldn’t bear to look less
than her best.

“Rest in peace, mother,” he said, smiling over his clasped hands.
It’d been so long since she’d died that her memory no longer upset him.

“I haven’t seen you here before.”

Alaric looked up, then inhaled instinctively.
Brown hair. Hazel
eyes. Mid-thirties and healthy
, his senses told him.

The man nodded in greeting, and Alaric realized that whoever he
was, he wasn’t particularly happy to be here. His friendliness didn’t reach his
eyes.

“Most people don’t smile at this alcove,” the stranger said as he
bowed his head, breaking eye contact.

“My mother’s been gone for many years now,” Alaric offered,
lifting a shoulder. “Her memory is sweet, not sad.” The man didn’t move so much
as a muscle, but Alaric could tell he’d suddenly gone tense.

“My mother died over two years ago.” The man took one of the long
matches and lit the tip using Alaric’s chosen votive to kindle his flame. “That
doesn’t mean the grief is any less sharp.” He held the match to the wick of a
candle and frowned when it ignited. The fire danced until the wax heated enough
to settle the conflagration.

There’s a miniature hell, right there,
Alaric thought, amused. He glanced
at the man kneeling next to him. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he murmured,
standing up.

The stranger looked up. His hazel eyes glowed green in the
candlelight. “Likewise.”

Pretty man,
Alaric thought, nodding goodbye. He smiled again, then pivoted and headed out
of the church. He had more important things to do tonight than make friends
with a human. He’d been alone for centuries. Solitude no longer bothered him.

* * * *

Gideon Keegan watched the stranger walk away. He felt tense, but
he didn’t know why. He’d come here to light a candle for his mother, talk to
one of his oldest friends, and pray for a little while before heading to work.
Instead, he found himself sitting on his heels and staring after a man he
didn’t know, for no reason he could fathom.

“He hasn’t come here in a long, long time. Years, actually,” John
said, settling down next to Gideon. “This is only the second time I’ve seen
him.”

Gideon startled, then shook his head as his oldest friend plucked
a matchstick from the glass container and twirled it like a miniature
drumstick.
Typical. Always sneaking up on
me.
The flames danced in the votives just beyond their fingers as though
nothing were wrong.
 
“Father Howard, what
a surprise to find you here,” he said dryly. He eyed the whirling match and
then snatched it out of the priest’s hands, mid-toss. “You’re getting better at
the ninja-stealth thing, but isn’t playing with fire a little undignified for
someone in your lofty position?”

His friend rolled his eyes and took back the stick. “Really,
Gideon. You calling me Father? Not amusing.” He gently set the matchstick back
into the holder.

Gideon grinned, relieved as the tension he’d been feeling slid
away. “You’re a priest. That’s what I’m supposed to call you,” he said, as if
that was the end of the discussion.

“You
were
a
priest, too, so stop being ridiculous, Gideon. You know how silly this is,
right?”

Gideon’s smile faded. “I’m not a priest anymore.”

John sighed. “Look, I know things haven’t been great for you
lately—”

Gideon snorted.
Understatement
of the year.
He thought of Hannah and shook his head, trying not to dwell
on someone he could never have. She had been his student, years ago, and she was
still way too young for him. And she was an innocent. Gideon was not going to
mess up her life just because he felt lonely.

“But that doesn’t mean you need to keep up this morose, moody
thing all the time. Kick back and enjoy yourself. Live a little.” John poked
him in the arm. “Glaring at everyone who gets near you isn’t very attractive,
you know. Why don’t you wear something festive for a change? Like, oh, I don’t
know … a color other than dark grey?”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Gideon tugged on his friend’s
shirt sleeve. John wore unrelieved black from head to toe. “You look like
you’re going to a funeral.” He smiled tightly.

“You’re being deliberately difficult,” John said, ignoring Gideon’s
attempts at humor. “You’re a layman now. Go on a date, for God’s sake. Ask that
girl you’ve been moping over for the past three years out to dinner.” He lifted
an eyebrow. “Hell, ask a random
guy
out. I know you swing both ways.”

“You’re not supposed to condone a sinful lifestyle.” Gideon
frowned at his friend.

“Give me a break. The church may be stuck in the thirteen hundreds,
but I’m not,” John said sourly. “It’s been two years now since your mom passed
away and you hung up your cross. It’s time to stop mourning and get on with
life.”

“I don’t want to talk about my departure from the church,” Gideon
said shortly.

“We aren’t talking about that, Gideon.” His friend sighed. “You
aren’t happy. I thought you would be happier if you left the priesthood, but
you’re not. I worry about you.”

“Who was that man that was just here?” Gideon asked, changing the
subject. He recognized the mulish look on his friend’s face and wanted to head
off any more unsolicited advice. He wasn’t in the mood for yet another lecture
about moving on. He’d moved on. He’d quit the priesthood and landed a job as a
bouncer at a gay bar. That was more than enough moving on for now, in his
opinion.
I haven’t locked myself up in my
apartment, much as I’d like to.

John shook his head and let it go, to Gideon’s relief. “I don’t
know his name, but he has a key to the church. He’s been coming here since
before I was assigned to this parish.” John shrugged and adjusted one of the
votives until the flame threw patterns on the alcove wall. The mural of Saint
Frances seemed to glare at them when shadows danced across his face.

Gideon frowned, forcing his gaze away from the back wall. “He has
a key? Really?”

“Yes. Really.” John picked up another matchstick and began
lighting candles. “Old Father Brozeni told me to let it go when I asked him
about it the next day. He said some people couldn’t be kept out, whatever that
meant.”

Gideon laughed uncomfortably.
He
could be talking about me.
“That’s weird.” He glanced at the vestibule. The
dark wood doors were closed tight and the man hadn’t made a sound as he’d left
the building. Very creepy.

“Yeah. Weird is right. I tried to ask the guy how long he’d be so
I’d know when to come back and deal with the votives, and the next thing I
knew, I was in the sacristy staring at the wall.”

Gideon blinked. “Have you been smoking weed?”

John laughed. “I wish, but no. No illegal substances for me. Which
is a damn shame, frankly. I could use a little help when the senior choir comes
by to practice their music.” He shuddered dramatically. “Hitting a single note
all together is too much to ask for, I know that, but it would be nice if they
could at least try.”

Gideon grinned at his friend’s antics. “Well, he’s gone now and
the choir doesn’t practice until Tuesday. So, are we still on for Sunday
night?”

“Sure. Six o’clock? Your place? We can watch the latest horror
flick and kick back with a few beers. I need a break from all the fire and
brimstone.” John stood up and glanced around. “Gotta lock up in here in a
moment. It’s almost eleven.” He leaned over and began blowing out all the flames
he’d just lit.

Gideon looked away. When he was a kid, the candles had been left
to burn until all the wax ran out, but modern fire ordinances meant no votives
could be left unattended inside the building overnight. “Yeah. Bring pizza. We’ll
play cards after the movie until your curfew.”

John sighed irritably. “It’s not a curfew and you know it. Father
Brozeni gets worried when I stay out too late and I don’t like to upset him.
He’s a kind old man. The least I can do is show him some respect.”

Gideon smirked. “You’re such a good little altar boy.”

“Shut up, you creepy asshole. Brozeni’s one of the good guys and
you know it.”

“Such language, and in a church no less.” Gideon mock-clutched his
chest until his friend laughed.
Score one
for a successful diversion from my love life.

“Get out of here. I know you have to work tonight.” John stood up
and smoothed the wrinkles from his pants.

Gideon sighed and zipped up his jacket, not looking forward to
heading to the bar. Friday nights were usually insane. “I do.” He checked his
phone and frowned at the time. “And I’m going to be late if I don’t hurry.” He
slapped his friend on the shoulder and started walking to the side door. “Take
care, John. See you soon.”

“Sunday night,” John replied.

Gideon waved and pushed open the heavy door, wincing as a blast of
cold air shoved against his face. “I can’t wait until spring gets here,” he
muttered, hunching his shoulders into his jacket. He walked down the sidewalk
and ducked into the alley out of the wind. It was a brisk, ten-minute walk to
the club where he worked, and he had no time to dawdle. He headed toward the
dumpsters pushed against the wall, then froze when he saw that he wasn’t alone.
At the far end of the alley stood two men in a confrontational pose.

Huh. That’s the mysterious guy from the church.
He recognized the
man’s long, dark hair. The breadth of the man’s shoulders had his prick
twitching in interest. Gideon frowned, wondering how old he had to be before
his damned libido stopped tormenting him. It was bad enough he was hung up on
Hannah. He didn’t need to add a strange man to his fantasies, too. The smaller
man gestured and the man Gideon had spoken to made as if to walk away, but the
other one surged forward angrily.

This isn’t going to
end well, is it? I’m better off not getting involved.
Gideon rubbed his face and decided
to take the long way to work when he saw the man from the church reach out and
grab the smaller one by the neck.
Shit
.
He tensed, about to go help, but then the two of them twisted around, somehow,
and the shorter man fell back against the brick wall of the apartment building.
His face turned into the light and his eyes gleamed unnaturally for a moment before
he slumped down farther.

Damn it. There goes
being on time. Eric is going to make me pay for not relieving him at the door.
Gideon reached into his pocket for
his phone, convinced he was witnessing a drug deal gone bad. When the man from
the church seized the other one’s shoulder and pushed him up so his feet
dangled, Gideon stared, phone forgotten. No one was that strong. He would know.
He worked out, a lot. He needed to be in shape for his job, and also, what else
did he have to do? He had so much free time he’d go insane if he couldn’t lose
himself at the gym.

He frowned, thinking about strength and leverage. Before he could do
anything, the man from the church grabbed the other one’s jaw and wrenched,
hard. The smaller man’s neck made a horrible cracking sound, and the next thing
Gideon knew, the head came off, spraying blood everywhere. The survivor grunted
and stepped back, looking down. Anger twisted his features, but strangely, the
harsh emotion didn’t make him look one bit less attractive.

Gideon pressed himself against the wall out of sight, throat tight
with horror.
This can’t be real
. He swallowed. It didn’t help. He
swallowed again, forcing down bile. What he’d just seen was impossible. Heads
simply didn’t come off that way, no matter how strong you were.
Jesus.
He had to look. He had to know what happened. He eased out from behind the
dumpster and saw … nothing. Nothing at all. No men. No body. No blood.
What
the hell? Dear God, what did I just see?

* * * *

Alaric stepped away as the body turned to ash. He hated these
little encounters. They never ended well for the young ones. At a little over
five-hundred years old, Alaric was stronger, faster, and more deadly than most
vampires he encountered. He preferred to avoid conflict, but for some reason,
the younger vamps always wanted to pick fights with him.

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