He was a tall, lean, African American, who’d come to Australia by way of the southern states in the early twentieth century. I didn’t know much about his past, save for he’d been taken from his homeland and sold as a slave in the Caribbean, then trafficked to the American mainland soon after. How he’d become a vampire was a mystery. All I knew, was the man he was now—a peddler of supernatural information, or at least he was when I’d last seen him.

  I watched as he lifted the trash into the dumpster, bottles clinking. Didn’t he know recycling was a thing these days?

  I coughed, and the vampire jumped, spinning on his heel.

  “William Mason,” he drawled the moment his gaze met mine. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

  “Still shovelling vampire shit, I see,” I retorted, leaning against the wall. “You’re getting sloppy.”

  “I thought you’d be six feet under by now.” He shook his head and closed the lid on the dumpster. Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and flipped it open. He offered one to me, and I shook my head. “Shit, and you gone straight, too. No smoke?”

  “I quit.”

  “You quit a lot of things, I see. Last I heard, you were running with a pack of flea-bitten mongrels.”

  “Life has a messed-up way of coming full circle.”

  Monroe eyed me, then glanced up and down the lane. “Come in. It’s hot out here.”

  Vampires didn’t feel the heat, and he confirmed what I already knew. The diner was being watched.

  He opened the back door for me, and I stepped into the dreary diner. The kitchen was just as empty as the front, and the sole waitress could be seen through the partition, mopping the floor of the restaurant. Definitely seen better days.

  “Heather, take a break!” Monroe called out.

  The waitress scowled and dumped the mop, letting it clatter to the floor. She muttered something foul under her breath and stormed out of the diner. A second later, the bell rang furiously, then the door slammed.

  “Raging bitch, that one,” Monroe drawled. “Good thing I can compel her. You want a drink?”

  I nodded, and he turned to take a soft drink bottle from the refrigerator. Opening the lid, he placed the Coke in front of me.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “What?” Monroe drawled. “I lost my liquor license.”

  “It’s a little vanilla for my tastes,” I told him, knowing he could just compel himself a new license…unless King was blocking him.

  “Just take the damn Coke, Chaser,” he said, settling on the chair opposite. “So, what is it this time? I’m getting too damned old for this shit.”

  “You’re barely three hundred,” I replied, curling my hand around the cool bottle.

  “You know me, Will. Without this pile-of-shit diner, I’d be out on the street.”

  “So, nothing’s changed?”

  He inclined his head. “Once you’re in, you never leave.”

  I snorted and took a sip of Coke. Bubbles ran down my throat, doing nothing to quench the burn I felt. Alcohol would be good right now…blood, better.

  “Why are you here?” Monroe asked. “You never stop by for a friendly chat.”

  He was right. Things never got personal between us, though when I was still with the Hollow Men, I did my best to keep the heat off the guy. Back then, Monroe’s had been the go-to place for the supernatural dregs of society. A bad-news kind of place.

  It wasn’t spoken aloud, but Monroe had always been under the Hollow Men’s thumb. They ran this part of the city, while the Fortitude Wolves controlled the north.

  “They tried to hurt someone close to me,” I said. There was no use hiding my reasons. They weren’t unique in the slightest. Revenge was a mill that kept on grinding around here.

  Monroe raised his eyebrows and blew through his teeth. “Again? Once wasn’t enough for you?”

  “Believe me, it’s a situation I’d rather not be in.”

  “So, I assume you want to go back in?”

  “Like you said, I never stop by for a friendly chat.”

  “Who’s buying?”

  “I pay in blood, you know that.”

  “Only because you don’t have King’s backing anymore.”

  “What good is influence when your enemies are still breathing?”

  “No deal.” Monroe stood and pointed towards the door. “You know how things work around here. Get your sorry arse out of my diner, or I’ll have to let them know you were here.”

  I smiled up at him, realising he was old. Not in the age sense, three hundred wasn’t ancient for a vampire, but living his life on the edge of the law—vampiric and human—had worn him down. His skin was sallow, his eyes watery, and there were lines around his brow and mouth usually reserved for old men. He was underfed and full of fear.

  “How long have you had this place?” I asked, staring up at him. “Established…1910?”

  “William, I’m warning you.”

  “I noticed a distinct lack of customers on the way in. The economic downturn doesn’t cater for bacon, eggs, and refillable coffee, does it?”

  “What are you getting at, boy?”

  “It’s a metaphor, Monroe,” I drawled, smiling at the fact that he’d called me boy. “You’re becoming obsolete. Instead of rolling in dirty money, you’re barely keeping the doors open. The world has moved on, the humans have gotten smarter, and compulsion no longer cuts it.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Depends on how you look at it. I like to view it as an offer.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Which is?”

  “You get me a way into the Hollow Men’s operation, I’ll get you out of Melbourne and set you up. I know a crew who’d appreciate bacon and eggs.”

  Monroe snorted and sat back down. I had him.

  “What kind of crew?”

  “Fortitude.”

  “A werewolf pack? No way in hell.” He waved me off. “You want to put me under the thumb of another madman?”

  I grinned, thinking about Sloane and Gasket. “It’s under new management.”

  “Marini…?”

  “Is dead.”

  Monroe scratched his head and frowned, the cogs in his mind working overtime.

  “Changes things, right?” I raised my eyebrows, waiting for his answer.

  As I saw it, he didn’t have much choice. Even in Fortitude’s current state of turmoil, it was a far sight better than waiting for the diner to go completely under. That was, if the Hollow Men didn’t decide putting a bullet in his heart was better for everyone. With the pack, Monroe had a chance for a better life. One that could be a family to him, despite being what he was. Wolves were like that, much more than vampires.

  “I know you, Monroe,” I continued. “You’re not a bad guy. You’re just a victim of circumstance, profiting the only way you know how. When I knew you before, you wanted to get out. You wanted out so badly, you were willing to sell out King. Well, here’s your last chance.”

  “How do I know you won’t cross me again?”

  “You don’t.”

  I stared at him as he stewed over my proposition. Asking a man like Monroe to have faith was like asking for the impossible, but put him between a rock and a hard place…

  “I can tell you what I know, but it isn’t much,” he warned. “Like you said, times have changed.”

  I downed the last of my Coke and slammed the glass bottle onto the table.

  “I’ll take whatever I can get.”

  Chapter 6

  Sloane

  Chaser had been gone a long time.

  I leaned back in the green and white plastic lawn chair, watching as the last of the sun lowered past the horizon. Only a thin sliver of burning orange lingered, and the longer I stared at it, the more its image burned into my retinas. I closed my eyes and chased the afterimage around the insides of my lids before opening them again.

  Sighing, I counted the brightest stars in the sky. One, two, three, four… I wished I had a book or that there was something decent on TV, or that the TV actually worked and wasn’t all static and noise. I didn’t know anything about setting up a reconnaissance mission, so I couldn’t even help Chaser plan. There’d been no more word from Gasket, either.

  There wasn’t much in the way of life out here. After spending the last week watching the comings and goings of the motel, I’d figured out it was more of a rest stop catering to truckers and wayward souls than anything else.

  A few hundred metres down the road was the town centre, which consisted of a row of ramshackle shops—a bakery, a tiny IGA supermarket, a newsagent, and a two-pump petrol station.

  Chaser had become a regular customer at the IGA, but I’d never been down there. I hadn’t left the motel grounds since we’d arrived. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to—I’d established my impatience factor over and over—it was because Chaser didn’t trust that everything and everyone in the outside world wasn’t in league with the Hollow Men.

  Like anyone out here was working for The Man. Pfft.

  My stomach growled, and I looked up at the sky. The stars were well and truly out, even though the thin strip of sunlight still lingered on the horizon. Chaser was taking his sweet time.

  I peeled my arse cheeks off the lawn chair and made my way downstairs. Noting the car wasn’t parked out front, I scowled and went inside our room. We had to have some food kicking around.

  I opened the mouldy refrigerator and squinted at the lone can of beer. Liquid dinner? I made a face and closed the door. If my choices were beer or beer, I’d choose nothing at all. Ironically, those were the only options in the whole stinking place.

  Glancing around the room, I thought about going to the IGA. I wasn’t a prisoner here, and the likelihood of someone recognising me out here was slim to none. The nearest town with a population in triple digits was at least forty minutes away, and there was a lot of flat nothingness and farmland between us.

  I knew Chaser would be angry about me wandering the town on my own, but as my stomach squelched and popped, I figured he could go screw himself. I could look after myself now that I was a full werewolf.

  I snatched up my little coin purse and counted out the money Chaser had left me. Fifty dollars. That ought to get me a mountain of snacks to fatten myself up with. Hesitating, I wondered if I should leave a note. If he came back, and I wasn’t here… Well, things would be bad.

  I took out the pen from the bedside table and tore a corner off an old newspaper. Over the black and white ink, I scrawled a ‘be right back’ message and left it on the table.

  Outside, the motel grounds were deader than a doornail. Curling my hands into the sleeves of my cardigan, I darted across the road and walked towards the IGA. Nights got cold out here, which never quite made sense to me. A car zoomed past, blowing my hair away from my face, and I glanced over my shoulder at the receding tail lights.

  Being out here kind of felt daring. Remembering how it was out on the road with Chaser the first time, I shivered. That was a different story to the one we were in now, but I still erred on the side of caution.

  A set of iron horse sculptures that had rusted to a lovely shade of coppery-brown loomed outside the supermarket. I gave them a cursory glance as I passed, my boots scuffing the scrappy little tufts of grass that were trying to grow in the arid soil. Maybe when this was all over, I’d learn to ride a horse, but not here. Someplace cooler where people owned coats. Tasmania, maybe? There were horses in Tasmania, they got snow and ice, and it was far away from here.

  I was a dozen steps away from the door when I felt something change in the air. A static charge crackled across my skin, popping and fizzing.

  Turning, I saw a woman step out of the shadows, her long blonde hair fluttering in the breeze. Her eyes were filled with fire, and something inside me ignited in response.

  Witch.

  The wolf within me began to snap as another shadow hurtled out of the darkness and collided with the woman. They powered through the light and slammed into the brick wall of the IGA, sending a dull bang across the silent street.

  Chaser held the witch against the wall, his hand curled tightly around her slim neck. She gasped and clawed at his hand, but she had no hope of dislodging the grip of a vampire as strong as him.

  “Chaser!” I exclaimed, my eyes widening.

  “I told you to stay at the motel,” he growled, his blackened eyes never leaving the witch. He bared his fangs at the woman. “Explain yourself before I rip your head off.”

  She said nothing. I had a chance to study her, to weigh her intentions, but I couldn’t figure it out. She was pretty with her long blonde hair and stormy-blue eyes, giving off a bohemian, surf-chic style with her flowing tank top, crystal jewellery, and silver rings…but there was a terrible anger in her my wolf could scent like a bad smell.

  “I’d talk if I were you,” Chaser snarled. “And fast.”

  She jerked against his hand and scowled. “I had Marini’s blood and instead of him, it led me to her.”

  My heart skipped a beat. It was the witch my father had been working with before his demise. The witch who was going to bind the Hollow Men’s bloodline. Had she come to finish the job?

  “The wolf you were helping him turn into a weapon,” Chaser snapped. “His own daughter.”

  “Against my will, just so you know,” I said. “I can think of a thousand other things I’d rather be doing besides being slaughtered in a blood ritual.”

  “Why?” Chaser demanded. “Why were you working with him?”

  She curled her lip, choosing to remain silent.

  “Revenge,” I murmured. “It’s always revenge.”

  The witch let her hands fall to her sides, giving in to Chaser’s hold. “If they took everything from you, you’d do the same.”

  “They did,” Chaser said, tightening his grip. “And even if killing Sloane was the only way to pay them back, I wouldn’t. Do you really think you’re the only one the Hollow Men screwed over? Do you really think you’re that special?”

  “Just do it,” the witch hissed. “Kill me. I’ve got nothing left.”

  People did desperate, reckless, stupid things when they were hurting. I knew all about that. Trying to run from Chaser on the train, then getting captured and him killed was a prime example. Whoever this witch was, she was in pain. Who had she lost? Her coven? Her family? A lover? It could be anyone, but someone she loved enough to go to war and numb herself to the collateral damage.

  There could be hope in all that despair…I’d certainly found some, despite being the target of a supernatural power struggle.

  “Let her go,” I said. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

  Chaser looked at me, his eyes blackened.

  I laid my hand on his shoulder and looked at the witch. “You’re wrong. While you live, there’s always a chance for something else, something better. You just have to have the strength to try.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I have no strength…”

  I moved my hand to Chaser’s wrist and urged him to let her go. As his fingers loosened, colour returned to her cheeks.

  “Then take some of mine,” I told her. “There’s another way, and we’re going to find it. We can help one another.”

  “You’d let me go?” she whispered. “I was going to take you to them.”

  “I know,” I told her. “Yet here we are.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek.

  I smiled. “What’s your name?”

  “Wren…” Her gaze moved to Chaser.

  “Forget about him. He’s got a leash.” I narrowed my eyes at him before nodding towards the IGA. “You hungry? I’m going to get some snacks.”

  Chaser stared at us and scratched his head. “What the hell just happened?” I heard him mutter, but I wasn’t listening.

  “Chocolate,” I said to Wren. “I reckon we should get some chocolate.”

  Chaser stood at the door of the motel room, glaring at the witch who was sitting at the table.

  I shot him a warning glare and turned to Wren, who was crinkling the wrapper of the Cherry Ripe chocolate bar I’d bought her.

  I studied her for a long moment, trying to figure her out.

  “So…” I began. “Witches, huh? What’s up with that?”

  She blinked and glanced at Chaser.

  “She’s new to all this,” he told her.

  I snorted. “I only found out there was a supernatural world like two months ago, and now I’m the centre of a war for my blood…or something like that. Honestly, the details are a little hazy.” I leaned back in my chair. “Basically, I found out I won the werewolf lottery only to be slapped with a ninety-percent arsehole tax. You know, all that vampire immortality ritual stuff. So, that’s me. What about you?”

  “I, uh…” Wren set the chocolate bar on the table. “My coven was indentured to the Hollow Men before I was born.” She hesitated, her eyes shifting to Chaser. “But we wanted out, knowing there was a chance we’d be killed for trying.”

  I frowned, knowing where it was going before she even told us. Wren’s story was only foreshadowing what would happen to us if we failed.

  “They killed them all,” she went on. “My parents, my sister and her husband…their son. The only reason I was spared was because I wasn’t home.” She shrugged. “I’ve been in hiding ever since.”

  “That’s why you teamed up with my father,” I murmured. “Revenge.”

  “If I’d known you were his daughter…” Her gaze flickered between me and Chaser.

  “You still would’ve done it,” Chaser drawled.

  “I get it,” I said to her, ignoring the surly vampire by the door. “They took your entire family. They took my mother too, and now we’re at war with them.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What are you going to do with me?”

  My eyebrows rose. “Do with you?”

  “She thinks we’re going to kill her,” Chaser drawled. “Which might be worth considering…”