Warning: violence; references to abuse and torture

.

Detroit, 10 months earlier

"Vampires? Gets funnier every time I hear it." Gwen shot Sam a grin that was almost merry. "My Dad never even mentioned them. I thought there was no such thing."

"We thought they were extinct, that hunters had wiped them out," Sam acknowledged. "We were wrong." Gwen had been almost adolescent when her hunter father was killed and Samuel had taken her in. She'd never been fond of reading, preferring to learn on the job, so Sam shared the benefit of his own research with her. "Most vampire lore is crap. A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, and neither will a stake to the heart. The only way to kill them is by beheading. But the bloodlust, that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They nest in groups of eight to ten. Smaller packs are sent to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks."

Sam tugged uncomfortably at his dress shirt as they joined the line at Spider night club. He'd been lucky enough to find a decent jacket that fitted, but the shirt was tight at the collar and short in the sleeve. Gwen saw him fiddling and reached up to assist, unbuttoning the collar and adjusting his tie. She gave him an approving nod as she smoothed down the lapel of his jacket.

"Well, you don't scrub up too bad, do you, Sam?" she remarked.

Sam muttered some thanks then, as an afterthought, added "you too." It was an understatement. Gwen was wearing leather pants that looked like they were sprayed on, and a skimpy halter-neck top held up by thin ribbons of material. It was made of a shiny, oily looking material that clung wetly to the shape of her breasts. Sam could even see the outline of her nipples, but when he looked at her he made an earnest effort to keep his gaze trained on her face. He'd rarely seen her wear make up, and he was surprised at the difference it made. Not that she didn't always look good, but a few subtle touches had really brought out those great dark eyes and full, generous lips and . . .

Sam was embarrassed to realize that he was staring but what was, perhaps, more disconcerting was the realization that Gwen was staring back at him.

"My God, you have delicate features for a hunter, you know that?" she said.

"Excuse me?" Before he could think of an adequate response to the observation they were jostled toward the door of the night club. When they reached the front of the queue a big, aggressive looking guy in a black suit looked them up and down. He beckoned Gwen through but as Sam moved to follow her he placed a rough hand on Sam's chest.

"Just her," he snapped.

As Sam started to object the man was distracted by someone standing behind a red velvet drape within. After a brief, indistinct conversation the man turned back and nodded to Sam. "O.K. You too," he said.

Sam's tryst from the afternoon was waiting the other side of the drape. He gave Gwen a withering sneer as Sam handed over the rest of the agreed payment, but once he'd escorted them past the doorman and security and into the interior of the club he disappeared. Gwen was directing raised eyebrows at Sam but before she could comment he ushered her toward the bar and ordered drinks while he scoped the rest of the place. Despite its reputation and popularity the club was a bit of a dive on the inside – garishly decorated, under lit, and overcrowded with pretty people milling around or gyrating to excessively loud pumped music, all consuming copious amounts of overpriced alcohol. It was an ideal venue for predators of every kind. Spotting their quarry wouldn't be a cakewalk; they were once people, so it would be easy to miss a vampire until it was too late.

Gwen's eyes swept the room, too, but came to rest on Sam once more. She surveyed him from over the top of her drink then licked her lips and rested her glass on the counter. "So, I didn't know you played for that team, Sam," she remarked. Apparently she wasn't done with the subject of the hooker.

"I don't . . ." Sam responded impatiently, but then he just dismissed the subject. "Never mind." He couldn't see whose business it was where he fell on the Kinsey scale, even if he knew for sure, or why it should even matter.

"Hey, I'm not judging," she assured him, holding up her hands. "It just explains a few things, is all."

Sam frowned. "Like what?"

"Well, Sam . . ." A mischievous smile played at the corners of her lips. "I was beginning to think you just didn't like me."

He stared at her, confused, his head cocked to one side. "What? I like you . . . What?" Then his eyes widened as an inkling of what she was getting at began to dawn on him. But she couldn't mean that . . . could she? "W – we're cousins!" he blurted out.

"Third cousins," she corrected him, as if the distinction made a difference. Maybe they weren't the world's most emotionally connected family, but the way they'd been brought up together, in each others pockets, since Sam was – what? – seven? – she might just as well have been his sister. "And it doesn't seem to bother the others," she continued. "You're about the only guy in this family who hasn't hit on me." Sam assumed she was exaggerating. He hoped she was.

"Maybe that's because in this family, I'm the freak," he suggested, trying to make it sound lighthearted, but his smile came out lopsided, the way it often did when he was insincere.

"Listen," she said after a moment's hesitation. "I'm sorry about the 'reject' thing. I just get sick of getting left behind. Think it's probably 'cause I remind Samuel of his daughter or something." There was an awkward pause then she added "your mother, I mean."

Sam had puzzled about that. Gwen's appearance – dark eyes, tumbling waves of brunette hair – was quite different from the photos he'd seen of his mother, but it wasn't the first time Sam had heard the comparison made, and Samuel did seem uncharacteristically protective of her. Maybe it was the attitude. She was spirited, passionate, forthright. He'd heard Mary described that way.

"You just speak your mind," he observed.

Gwen nodded acknowledgment. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said.

"You should." At least it was preferable to some others who whispered about him behind his back, or just stood around thinking at him.

She smiled a little and seemed to be waiting for something more from him. Sam found himself beginning to flush under her scrutiny.

"I didn't mean . . ." he stammered. "I'm not . . . I don't . . ." He cleared his throat. "I don't think of you that way, Gwen." She raised an eyebrow and he ducked his head to avoid her gaze, and somehow found himself staring down the valley of her plunge neckline. "This is . . . we should be working here," he insisted, and hurriedly returned his attention to scanning the room. He tried not to be distracted by the thoughts she'd planted in his head and Gwen, for her part, seemed content to let the matter rest there, at least for now.

It was hard to be sure. Everyone was on the prowl, apart from those who'd arrived with partners . . . even some of those. The single women were usually in groups. The men typically stalked alone, or in twos or threes. There were several candidates who looked out of place, either because of dress or behavior. Sam's attention kept coming back to a group of three, two men and a woman, who were watching the room together, laughing, comparing notes. The woman hung on one of the men like they were together, and the other guy would occasionally leave them to start conversations with other patrons while the other two watched. He'd single out women on their own or, once, a young man, and talk to them, dance, buy drinks for them. But after a while it was clear he was trying to persuade them to leave with him. So far he'd been unsuccessful, and after his fourth unproductive gambit he returned to his friends and this time it was the woman who split away. While the two men watched she homed in on a guy at the bar and, after a short exchange, persuaded him to buy her a drink.

Sam caught Gwen's attention and indicated the couple, but from the knowing nod she returned he gathered she'd already spotted the group. The woman leaned into the guy, whispering things into his ear, and it didn't take her long to reel him in. As the pair of them stood to leave, the woman shot a glance to her companions before leading her victim to the back of the club, and the men casually followed after.

Sam took out his cell phone and pressed speed dial as he and Gwen tailed the vampires. "They're heading toward the rear," he told Christian. "Exit to the alleyway back of Jefferson." They followed at a respectable distance and Sam let Gwen take the lead, remaining just a couple of paces behind her and watching her back, until they reached the exit where he gave her the 'wait' signal. They'd each bathed in a solution of sage and trillium earlier that evening to block their scents, but out in the street their heartbeats would be distinguishable from the mass of bodies in the club.

"They'll pick up an elevated heart rate from half a block away," Sam reminded her quietly. He opened the exit door a crack, just enough to watch the vampires as they crossed the street. The woman and her victim were just disappearing down another side alley. Sam waited until her companions entered after her then beckoned Gwen on with a jerk of his head.

In the shadows at the end of the alley Gwen lifted the back of her top and pulled out her pistol; Sam carefully drew the machete he'd concealed in the lining of his jacket. They could see the woman and the guy had stopped by a car. She waited until he had his keys in his hand then she rounded on him, and he jumped back alarmed. Sam could just see the white of her teeth, but she didn't use them to do more than startle the guy before she knocked him out with a lazy punch.

"Where's Christian?" Gwen hissed.

"Wait," Sam told her.

The other two had caught up to the woman now and they were bundling the victim into his car.

"He should be here already. They're going to get away."

"He'll be here. Wait."

The men were getting into the car already and the woman was making a sweep of the alley before climbing behind the wheel.

"They're getting away."

"Gwen!"

It was too late. She was striding up the alley taking aim as she moved and Sam had no choice but to back her up. The vamp saw them coming, of course; covered the distance between them in half the time, but before she reached Gwen the blood dart hit her in the chest. It hardly slowed her down and Gwen didn't have time to reload before she was baring down, hissing, fangs extended and vicious. She grabbed Gwen's shoulders and dragged her neck toward her widening jaws just as Gwen dropped her weight and, as she ducked, metal rang through air and there was a wet sound of the blade slicing through flesh and bone.

Sam barely had time to register the body crumpling to the ground or the head spinning bloody cartwheels across the ground before the men were upon them. The biggest of them immediately engaged Sam, circling warily, teeth bared. Gwen managed to get off another shot before the other one grabbed her and pinned her against the wall; Sam didn't know whether it had found its mark. Tossing the machete to his other hand he reached behind and found his own pistol, aimed and fired into the back of Gwen's assailant, and as he arched in pain she managed to get her feet up and used the wall as leverage, driving him away from her.

Sam's opponent snarled and lunged at him. Sam swung the machete but, left handed and distracted, he only managed to slice the side of the vamp's neck and that just made it mad. It closed with Sam, hitting him full force and taking him to the ground, and all Sam could see was teeth. It was too close range to use the machete so Sam slid it across the ground to Gwen, but he managed to get a hand to his spare blood dart and stabbed it into the guy's neck. The poison made little difference to the vamp's strength, though, and Sam was using every desperate ounce of his to hold the guy back. He felt the sharp graze of fangs against his neck, then something cool and wet splashed his face and the weight on top of him slumped. He looked up to see Gwen standing over him with the dripping machete just before she was grabbed and thrown across the alley by the other vampire. As she hit the wall and fell to the ground in a heap, the blade spun away down the street.

Sam was on his feet straight away and it looked like the vampire was reeling, the dead man's blood taking effect at last, but rage and grief was keeping it upright and dangerous, and Sam was unarmed.

Suddenly bright light streamed down the alley, tires squealed on asphalt and as the vampire raised its arm to shield its eyes from the glare a large dark blur sped in front of Sam and hit the vamp with a sickly thud. Metallic doors opened and closed, dark silhouettes filled the alley, and before the vampire could regain its feet from the collision it was plugged with more darts, from rifles this time. It wasn't getting up again any time soon. In no time it was bagged and bundled into the van and while the clean up crew disposed of the bodies and hosed the vamp blood, Sam went to find Gwen.

Christian was already there and Mark was helping her to her feet.

"Blood on your face, Sam!" Christian warned him as he walked up.

Sam wiped it with his sleeve, away from his mouth, but he spat as well just to be sure. "Are you O.K, Gwen?" he asked.

She didn't answer but, from the glare she gave Christian, she was fine. "Where were you?" she demanded.

"Why didn't you wait?" he retorted.

She didn't stop to argue but headed off toward the victim's car, pulling out her cell phone en route, and Sam followed her.

The vic wasn't badly hurt. With some shaking and patting he soon came round. "What happened?" he murmured sluggishly.

"You were mugged," Gwen explained, sitting him upright. "Don't worry, you're fine. We chased them off, and we've called 911. Just take it easy until the police get here."

"She . . . she had these teeth . . . so many . . ." the vic gasped. "Huge, sharp, like an animal's – like . . . like a monster!"

"Yeah, well . . . take more water with it next time, buddy," Gwen advised him, giving his shoulder a reassuring slap. She raised her eyebrows at Sam and inclined her head toward the van. Time to go.

They took the vamp back to base camp, a derelict house near the industrial park. Gwen wasn't too pleased to find Matt and Ben waiting there, staring at them wide eyed as they manhandled the semi conscious vampire into the room and Christian retrieved some more dead man's blood from their store.

"What are you two doing here?" she demanded.

"Mark said we should come along for the experience – " Matt whined defensively.

"Well, then Mark's a dick. Get out!" she snapped.

The boys rolled their eyes at each other but grudgingly left the room. Sam watched them leave then studied Gwen thoughtfully. "We saw worse at their age," he pointed out.

"Yeah, well, the way we were raised was jacked," she retorted.

The vampire didn't look so threatening once it was hogtied in the chair. In fact, sick and helpless from the blood dose, it seemed almost pathetic.

"What about you?" Gwen asked Sam. "Can't you think of anything better to do than watch this?"

Sam frowned. He certainly wasn't eager to see Christian torture a helpless animal, but he was anxious to get the intel it possessed. They still needed to know where the nest was.

"You two kids can go play, if you like," Christian assured them as he squeezed a syringe onto a kitchen knife, twisting the blade and watching in fascination as beads of blood rolled along its edge. The vampire in the chair moaned groggily and Christian gave it a casual glance then looked up at Sam and Gwen and grinned. "I've got this covered," he said.

.