"Banks, L A - Vampire Huntress 5 - 2005 - Forbidden" - читать интересную книгу автора (Banks L. A)

The names began to link with the faces as the memory of what had happened came
back to him in fits and spurts. The past came back in snatches of quilted
memory. Without resistance he slowly walked up the steps and entered the jet,
noting the somber expressions around him as everyone took their seats. Again, he
searched Damali's face for confirmation that the truth had been told, and found
it.
She clasped his hand and led him to a seat, one hand touching the small Isis
dagger at her hip. "I've got your back," she said, her eyes holding his.
"They've got mine. It's gonna be all right."
He nodded, slowly beginning to believe that this was all real. But as he
fastened his seat belt with a click and slowly turned to stare out the window at
the sun, Marlene's words rang in his ears. Her truth permeated every fiber of
his being, and with that sudden knowledge, an acute sadness that he dared never
share with another living soul entered his being; life as they'd known it was
null and void.



CHAPTER TWO



Los Angeles… same night

HUNGER TORE at Yonnie's insides as he held on to the edge of the bar in the
plush VIP basement section of Club Vengeance. What the hell was going on?
Earlier in the evening, the contents of bottles on the shelves had turned to
sludge, as though the blood within had suddenly aged.
All third-gen vampires and below had rolled. But to where? Even most second-gens
were lying low. No human wannabes would come near the club tonight. If he and
his squad wanted to feed, they'd have to go out hunting, old school. Where was
Carlos? Concentration was impossible. The master's beacon was nonexistent.
Something was very wrong. If Carlos had been exterminated, he should have
immediately felt the jolt. But there was simply an eerie void, an absence of
power and presence.
He looked up slowly, watching the club's top-shelf reserves begin to rattle,
flames consuming the labels, peeling them away, as black bottles began
exploding. His second-gen bartenders instantly collapsed into a pile of ash.
His longtime friend, Stack, stood up with effort. His squad got to their feet,
their eyes taking in the horror as the building began to deconstruct,
deteriorating into an old, dilapidated structure. They were so tired they could
barely stand. The atmosphere felt thick, heavy, as though daylight were creeping
in.
"Oh, shit," Yonnie murmured.
"Resources are drying up, man," Stack said, breathing hard. "Rivera musta fucked
up, big-time. Maybe another master smoked him and the territory is realigning?"
"No," Yonnie said quickly. "A new master would be building assets, not
destroying them." He held his hands out before him, feeling the vibrations,
trying to search for a power pulse within the empire. He lowered his arms slowly
and glanced at his five-man squad. "Feel it," he whispered. "I don't sense any