Vampire Squad
By: Alison Burnston
ISBN: 978-1-877546-68-6
All rights reserved
Copyright © Aug. 2009, Alison Burnston
Cover Art Copyright © Aug. 2009, Brightling Spur
Bluewood Publishing Ltd
Christchurch, 8042, New Zealand
www.bluewoodpublishing.com
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
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Dedication
To my friends and family for their unstinting support, to the writing groups and clubs that have helped with constructive criticism and to my partner for being there when I needed him most.
Thanks too to the people at Bluewood Publishing for taking me on.
Vampire Squad
Crunch . . . Crunch . . . Crunch . . .
The noise echoed back to her from the alley walls on either side. She shivered as another gust of wind seemed to blow through the short uniform skirt she wore. The cold air carried the promise of more snow to come before the night was over. She shuddered again.
Behind her there was a slithering sound, a muffled curse and then a thump, followed after a second by a low deep voice.
“Damn it!”
“Zac! Can’t you keep it quiet?”
“Sorry, Pen, it’s this bloody ice. I can’t keep my feet.”
“Try harder!”
“You’re a fine one to talk, the noise those heels of yours are making.”
Pen looked back over her shoulder. In the dim light she could clearly see the staggered series of small round holes stretching back toward the mouth of the alley.
“I can’t help the heels going through the ice crust. But at least I don’t get to cool my tush on the ice.”
Turning round she began to stride forward once more. Each time she brought her weight down onto her heel, the stiletto punched through the thin crust of ice, into the softer snow below. She couldn’t help thinking about what lay ahead. The loud noise made a stealthy approach difficult, if not impossible but at least the additional traction stopped her falling. Her partner in tonight’s excursion was having far more difficulty in his trainers.
Crunch . . . Crunch . . .
As they moved further away from the street entrance the alley became progressively darker. Pen felt as if it was getting colder too. Once more she shivered. Catching his eye, she jerked her head to the side, and Zac, quiet now when it mattered, faded back into the shadows as they neared the rendezvous, luckily keeping his feet and moving silently into the cover offered by the refuse cans.
“Pen? Is that you?”
She almost giggled as the adolescent male voice came from the fire escape landing above her as she rounded the corner. This was going to be so easy.
Silhouetted by the single light further down the alley she struck an artful pose, her chest thrust out, legs parted, one of them bent at the knee.
“Who else would it be, silly?”
She heard his sigh of relief and watched as the tall shadow detached itself from the wall and began to descend the icy iron steps of the fire escape. Finally Kenny was on the same level as her. Well not exactly, she had to look up into his face, his six-foot-three height towering over her own five-one, which included her three inch stilettos.