vampireinthebasement

Vampire in the Basement:

Book 2 of the
Grigori

Crymsyn Hart

Published By Purple Sword Publications, LLC

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any
similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is
purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

VAMPIRE IN THE BASEMENT

BOOK 2 OF THE GRIGORI

Copyright © 2013 CRYMSYN HART

ISBN 978-1-61292-096-2

Cover Art Designed By Anastasia
Rabiyah

Chapter One

He slammed his fist against the wall. “Fuck!” The whole wall shook from his outburst, and crumbs of plaster rained down from the ceiling.

“Don’t sweat it. We’ll get them next time.” Lori clapped him on the back.

Tris grumbled and ran a hand through his dark blond hair undoing the braid, trying to get the bits from his scalp. What really burned him was that his target had escaped him. Never, in all his history of being sent out on missions, did he miss his mark.
Someone must have tipped them off. Or they were too damn lucky for their own good. God knows they aren’t that smart.
All the times he had been hunting bloodsuckers, they were never that lucky. They had to have gotten a tip. Tris gritted his teeth and could hardly believe that anyone within their ranks would have betrayed them.
What did it mean? Who was it?

The questions plagued him.

What was so special about the vampires they had been sent to hunt? They were the grunts of the
Grigori
, in the same ranks as ghouls and fetch demons. All they did was hunt and get things for the
Grigori
, mostly humans they wanted to have fun with. The more important tasks were assigned to the higher-level demons. Tris unclenched his fist and made his way to his room in the mansion he shared with the four other members of his squad: Horatio,
Hemeil
,
Hesphital
—the three H’s he jokingly called them—and then there was Lori. He and Tris were hunting partners. The H’s usually went together and were never very talkative.

Tris let the rage build inside of him and knew he needed an outlet for it. There was no use going back out on the hunt because the sun was cresting, chasing away the monsters. Instead, he willed himself to the basement and studied the variety of equipment there he could take out his frustrations on. Swords, axes, and knives of various sizes and uses lined one wall. Another was padded with a mat protecting the concrete wall. Another pad was spread on the floor where they would spar and wrestle, depending on what fighting style they were trying out. In another section of the enormous basement was workout equipment. Several punching bags hung from the ceiling, where they could beat against the bags. There were weapons he had no name for that came from Heaven that he knew how to use. Sometimes there were perks to being an angel, even if he was considered a
Fallen
one.

Would it be easier for him to take it all back and return to Heaven not knowing what he did now? It would be easier to live in ignorance because it would be so blissful, but even he could not turn back the clock or amend his decisions. Heaven was still open to him, but Tris could never return there and be happy. Regret is what humans called it, but to him there were no words for the emotion, so he chose not to dwell on it. In its place, Tris focused on his assignments, where he had never failed to obtain his target except for today.

He balled his fingers into a fist and punched the heavy suspended bag before him. It swung from the impact on the heavy chain, which groaned as it moved. The sound gave him little comfort. When it swung back to him, Tris pounded it again. This time the impact on the punching bag knocked the chain from the hook bolted into the ceiling so the heavy sack landed halfway across the room with its sawdust contents spewing onto the floor. Staring at the mess, Tris felt a little better, but it did not completely wipe away all his anger. With a wave of his hand, he willed the heavy bag to be repaired and restored to its place. One of the good things about his position was that particular ability to do pretty much whatever he wanted, but even he had limits to the power. He could not will himself to where the vampires were who got away. Sometimes things did not happen the way he desired, and right now he needed to kill something. Taking another swing at the punching bag, he focused his rage on it until night fell and he would have his chance one more to hunt his prey.

* * * *

Daniella huddled in the disappearing darkness of the alley. She lingered in the shadow of the large Dumpster she had hidden behind when the other four vampires she was with scattered. They had left her with no thought of her well-being or how she would survive the day. She was still new to her undead lifestyle. In the six months since she had been transformed, her life had been turned upside down, but there was nothing she could do to change it.

The warmth of the coming dawn pressed down upon her skin. Daniella pulled her hood lower over her head, hoping it would provide some cover from the day. Even through the thick material, she could feel the heat of the sun. Her skin began to itch, but she still had nowhere to go. The pair of hunters lingered around the warehouse, waiting. She caught a glimpse of them before the others had fled. They appeared to be giants at least seven feet tall, dressed all in black with overcoats that fell to their ankles. Their coats were cut up the sides to give them movement. The one closest to her had hair that was all different shades of blonde that reminded her of braided gold that hung to the middle of his back. The other had short, red hair. She could see nothing else of their appearance, but with her heightened senses she heard their hushed conversation.

“Where are they? We were told they were nesting in the warehouse,” the blond-haired one said to his companion.

The other shook his head. Daniella saw a flash of something metallic. Dread filled her, knowing it was some type of weapon, probably meant to take off her head or plunge directly into her heart. Either way, it would end her existence. Along with fire and the sun, those were the only ways of her destruction. At least that was what she was told. Sometimes she did not fully believe the others in her nest. When she inquired regarding various myths about vampires they laughed at her, and she never received a straight answer from the brood. The sun crept up faster on the horizon, slashing the remaining beauty of the night with gold and crimson. The heat was already burning through her clothes. Without a place to go, she was surely going to be found by the hunters, if not by the flames erupting from her body or the cries of pain she was stifling. Daniella bit her lip and huddled closer to the dying shadows.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Tris. We can always come back tomorrow and try again. The orders were specific to take one of them alive.”

“They’re all better off dead,” Tris said, grumbling.

Daniella tore a chunk from the inside of her cheek to stop from crying out at the fire of dawn. No blood welled in her mouth because she had not fed in many days, but her hunger was not bothering her. Right now her fear of annihilation and discovery were at the forefront of her thoughts. She glanced around for a quick getaway into the warehouse where there was dark corners she could hide in, but she was trapped by the sun, abandoned by the others in her nest. She was all alone.

“Maybe, but you know our orders.”

The sun broke over the horizon, and a burst of agony seized her body. A strangled cry left her lips. It would be over soon. They would locate her, or the sun would fry her.

“Did you hear that?” one of them asked.

Daniella heard the shuffle of hard soles on gravel, but before the hunters could reach her, she felt a light touch on her arm. Kneeling before her was a man dressed in a red shirt that was stretched across his broad chest. A tattoo of silver vines was etched into his cheek and wound down his neck and into his arms. A silver ring of the same design adorned his right middle finger. Her eyes widened, and she searched her memory for his name because she had only met him a couple of times when they went before her master. His ebony skin shone in the coming light. He flashed
her a
smile, showing her his white teeth. He placed his finger to his lips and extended his hand. She glanced in the direction she heard the hunters’ boots coming from and then back at him. He gestured for her to take his hand. It was her only hope, so she slid her hand into his. At that moment, the coolness of darkness descended over her. The burning agony the sun inflicted vanished. And then the darkness receded, and her world was filled with light once more enough so that she winced at the brightness until her eyes adjusted. When they finally did, Daniella was in a windowless room, but the weight of the dawn still pushed on her shoulders. The walls were painted a deep indigo. The carpet was golden, and the furniture was a mixture of modern and antiques. Daniella stood slowly and stared at the man before her. His name popped into her memory.

“Marlon.”

He gave her a half bow.
“At your service.”

“Where am I? Why did you save me? I mean, thank you, but why not leave me for those...those hunters to find me?”

Marlon’s smile gave her some peace, but he lifted his hands up to stop her, warding off her questions. “First off, there is no need for thanks. Secondly, where you are doesn’t matter. Just know you’re safe. The sun won’t get you here nor will those hunters.” He waved his hand, and she felt a shift in the air. Marlon walked over to the table and uncorked the decanter that had appeared and filled a glass with its ruby contents. One whiff of the
liquid,
and she could tell it was blood. The potent aroma of the human vitae made her mouth water and her gums tingle with thirst. He held the glass out to her and smiled. The hunger shifted inside of Daniella, awakening from its slumber and overwhelming her as her teeth lengthened. It took all her willpower not to reach out, grab it from Marlon’s hand, and guzzle it down.

“I know you must be hungry. The sun did some damage to you. I apologize for not being there sooner, but I was just informed you needed retrieving. Come, drink up. Our master wishes to see you. I assume you want to be at your best when you do.”

Daniella eyed the glass a moment longer and licked her lips. She was parched and her throat scratchy. Her body did feel a little overcooked, and the blood would heal any wounds. Her thirst drove her onward, but she did not let it best her. She sipped at the blood instead of gulping it down. With each swallow, strength returned to her body. When she was done, she set the glass on the table and turned back to Marlon.

“Why does our master want to see me? I’m nothing special.” Daniella had only met the man who ruled over the vampire brood one time after she was awakened into the life of darkness. The meeting had been so
brief,
she did not remember what he looked like save that his power was burned into her memory along with his mark in her flesh. If he were to ever summon her, she would have to obey because the brand would get more painful the longer she delayed. If Marlon said their master wanted to see her, then she was not about to disobey.

“I don’t ask questions when it comes to the master’s orders. I do what I’m told. Now if you’re fed, let us see to your outfit.” Marlon rubbed his chin. He snapped his fingers and Daniella was dressed in black suede boots, a wine skirt with slits on both sides that came up to her knees, and a black top that was embroidered with small, gold butterflies. The butterflies reminded her somewhat of the brand of a dragonfly she bore over her hipbone.

A smile curled his lips. “I think you’re ready. Remember to do as he says, answer his questions, and you should be okay.”

“Should be?”

He shrugged. “I’m still learning his moods. I’m new to his
minioncy
. My last employer was rather tame compared to him. Go through the door, and he’ll be waiting.”

Before Daniella could respond, Marlon disappeared. She heard the soft click of a door opening and glanced around the room. A door had opened that had not been there before. It was mahogany mixed with red and deep browns. Daniella checked the table again, thinking about taking another sip of blood, and found the decanter was gone. Without waiting any longer, she slipped through the door and into the other room, which was a library. The temperature in the room was frigid. The air seemed frozen when she walked forward. Daniella was surprised there was not a layer of frost on any of the furnishings or that the fire was roaring in the hearth. She saw an arm resting on the armrest of the black wingback chair before her. Daniella could not see the man or creature who sat in the chair, just the top of his head. He had short, dark brown hair and remained perfectly still. She sensed no life from her master, no heartbeat or the sound of taking in air. The closer she stepped to the chair, the more she shook with cold and fright.

“That’s close enough,” he said in a gruff voice. His arm came up and he waved his fingers at her, signaling her to stop.

Daniella froze and waited. “Sorry.”

He did not respond. Instead, the fire flickered and time ticked by. Her throat went dry, and the temperature took a toll on her body. Her teeth chattered, and her skin was drying out from the cold. Daniella dared not make a sound in case it angered her master.