Blood Skies by Steven Montano Read Free Book Online Page A

if he actually survived to see morning. Despite having spent the better part of two years in the presence of soldiers and other vampire hunters – a class of people known to play even harder than they worked, for it was never assumed that another chance to play would come again – Cross had a surprisingly low tolerance for alcohol, due mainly to his thin frame and high metabolism. Regardless, Graves and Jonas kept buying rounds, and he knew it was because he was so far behind them in the number of drinks consumed that he was still at the table instead of under it.
    But it felt good – burning eyes and lungs and struggles stay conscious notwithstanding – to not be worrying about anything for a little while, to not be thinking about Snow and how he wanted to get both of them to somewhere else…not away from Thornn, necessarily, which was about as safe a place in the Southern Claw as anywhere, but just…somewhere else.
    Away from everything. Away from vampires and arcane disease and monsters and nightmares and pain. Maybe that’s what that dream was about. I have to get away, get her to somewhere safe. Away from all of this death.
    Cross wandered (carefully balanced) around the game tables, put some coins in and threw down dice a couple of times, won some money back, played cards, lost, shuffled his feet to the music as if he knew how to dance, watched some pretty ladies, was bumped into, drank another drink that Jonas gave him but wouldn’t tell him what it was, smoked some cigarillos, swam through the haze, his mind adrift and scattered, awash on the tide of energy, his whole body and being turned molten, suffused in that place, lost adrift for a night, not his, not anyone’s, part of the crowd.
    But he came back to earth. He wasn’t sure when he saw her, precisely. In his haze and near stupor, he must have been up close when it happened, because there was no way his watery eyes could have made her out from more than about ten feet away. She was tall and thin, with medium-length dark hair and a tight, revealing dress. She was unquestionably overdressed for The Black Hag, but he doubted anyone who saw her minded. He was, frankly, unsure if he’d ever beheld anyone so beautiful. He also understood that she likely looked much better to him at that particular moment than she normally would, courtesy of the uncounted drinks he’d imbibed, but he didn’t really care. She was at the edge of the room, close to the wall and away from the main throng of people, looking about, as if for someone specific.
    Of course she’s looking for someone, moron. You think someone who looks like she does would be here alone?
    And yet, he walked right up to her. In his right and sober mind Cross would’ve watched her for a moment or two from across the chamber, contemplated what he might say, counted down in his mind, and then never gone to talk to her at all.
    But you’re not in your right and sober mind.
    “ Excuse me, Miss,” he said. He nearly had to shout to be heard over the noise. “I couldn’t help but notice…you look lonely.”
    “ Well,” she smiled, “No. Not really. I am from out of town, and I don’t really know anyone.” She gave him a look. Her skin was flawless and pale, her eyes were feline and very sharp, and her lips were full. When she smiled her entire face glowed, especially her dark eyes. “Listen…I’m in a relationship. Long term, actually. Not that you…well, you know. In case that’s what you’re looking for…”
    “ No, no,” Cross said, fairly certain he wasn’t lying. “No, I don’t…I don’t think so,” he laughed. “No, I’m not looking for anything. I don’t think.” He laughed. “Sorry, I…really just thought you looked like you could use someone to talk to.”
    She smiled. People passed by, the light shifted, a roar erupted from a nearby dice table, and the strange music played on.
    “ Yeah, I guess I could,” she smiled. “I’m Cristena.”
    “ Eric,” he smiled.