Nora Walker, a psychic vampire, is conscripted into a task-force of supernatural legends that care more for themselves than the cataclysmic threat they face...
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Sound hit me like a truck the second my boots hit the dance floor. What's the fastest way to dampen everyones spirits? I wondered, rubbing my hands together as I faced the busiest area of the club.
I contemplated turning off the music, but I didn't want everyone turning on me. Taking them on all at once would be an exercise in futility, as I'd lose energy as fast as I was gathering it.
I supposed I could hit someone, but most of the patrons had superhuman strength and regenerative abilities. A punch from me wouldn't even make them twitch, let alone rile them up.
Unless they do all the hitting for me, I thought, the idea gaining traction in my mind.
I forced my way through the crowd to the fish tank that made up the far wall. Blue refractions spilled into the room, but the brilliant schools of fish and leisurely stingray seemed unaffected by the strobing lights and blaring music on this side of the glass. Some kind of technical magic, no doubt.
The first ingredient in my recipe for chaos was a stereotypical alpha male. They were in bountiful supply; I even recognised one of them from the stairs. Men and women vied for his attention, indicating he was a man of status; perhaps a district alpha? That would serve my plan nicely.
I shoved through them all, tapped him on the shoulder and pointed out a vampire who'd been making eyes at me. "That guy said his chihuahua is smarter than you."
"He what?"
It was embarrassingly easy to set it up — for him. I, for one, was rather glad I didn't have to risk getting in close contact with a blood-sucking demon with a taste for my kind. Witch blood was addictive, after all, laced with power. Like a protein shake to a gym junkie. And the whole point of this exercise was to stock up my reserves, not deplete them.
To my relief and utter delight, conflict ignited. It was sudden, brutal and blazingly glorious, like a lit match thrown on kerosine. The werewolf tackled the vampire to the ground, knocking over waves of people in the process. I was reduced to a mere afterthought as punches were swung in retaliation and fangs of all shapes and sizes found purchase.
Soon the dance floor was a riot, a whir of colour and screams and violence. The bass thundered on devout. I flattened back against the fish tank to avoid being trampled, eyes practically bugging out of my head. I'd never instigated mayhem of this magnitude before. It felt like I was drunk for the first time all over again; I couldn't stop clapping and laughing, couldn't think straight, couldn't find the words to describe what I saw. I flushed all over, as if a fire was burning in my blood. All the while wolves snapped and snarled, witches bowled over waves of assailants with spells, and vampires exercised fighting techniques from across the centuries.
Now this was a harvest worthy of my time!
I reached for the second sight, unlatching the shutters in my mind and throwing them wide open, embracing the immaterial world. A sea of dark mist settled over the scene, interspersed with radiant auras all the colours of the rainbow. More than two thirds of the life-forces glowed like coals instead of stars, trapped beneath the skins of their hosts. These were the vampires and werewolves who'd evolved from witches by directing their magic inward, fusing it with their anatomy, relinquishing the flexibility of their craft for more sustainable bodies.
