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Jericho ghostedinto position at the edge of the roof. Dressed in black fighting leathers, with his long black hair in a queue, he was little more than a shadow. A silent specter, invisible to the mortal eye. Below him, the grounds of the abandoned warehouse were desolate, steeped in hues of gloom and mist. Neglect had taken a toll on the building, the roof caving in, walls rotting. Exactly the sort of environment his prey would find appealing.

Boots scuffed behind him, his partner’s movements far from quiet. One of the many reasons he preferred to hunt alone. Where Jericho was a shadow, Colin was a flashing neon sign on the Vegas strip. Part of the vampire clan leader’s guard for a mere decade, Colin was a newer recruit. Despite Jericho’s objections, Victor Custodis had paired his most seasoned warrior with the novice. No doubt he’d hoped Jericho’s penchant for discipline would influence the other male. Wishful thinking.

Wind whistled between the buildings, powering massive fan blades in the window next door. The coppery tang of spilled blood floated in the breeze like a siren’s song. Jericho’s fangs elongated, scraping the inside of his lips. He pushed back the stab of hunger, his control over his baser instincts absolute.

“You smell that?” Colin asked, blue eyes gleaming.

“We’re close.” Finally. This assignment had dragged on longer than expected.

“Let’s do this,” Colin said, then leapt over the side with no discussion of plan or strategy.

Jericho swallowed a growl of irritation and dropped over the edge. His feet slammed against the concrete below, his actions no longer that of the silent predator. It was time to lure the rogue into the open.

The faded door in front of them hung drunkenly on its rusted hinges. Fresh claw marks scored the paint.

“Guess this is the place.” Colin muscled it free with a screech of metal. As they stepped into the darkened space, the stench of stale blood and death thickened.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” Colin crooned.

“You take the right. I’ll circle left.”

Colin nodded, and they separated, walking in opposite directions. Machinery, the size of buses, crowded the area. Once they’d cleared the perimeter, they worked their way to the center of the building. Here, the scent grew stronger.

Moonlight poured through a large hole in the roof, illuminating the dead man’s body. The victim lay face down, throat torn, limbs stiff with rigor mortis. Given his layers of ragged clothing, he was likely a vagrant who’d taken refuge here. It was a scene that had become all too common these last few weeks. A whisper of movement sent dust particles swirling into the air.

Shadows scrabbled.

Colin met Jericho’s eyes and tipped his head, indicating he would play hunter and Jericho bait. From the sheath on his forearm, Jericho withdrew one of his smaller blades and sliced his palm. Blood dripped from his hand, spattering the floor.

He stood next to the corpse, feigning interest while he waited.

Even after gorging itself, the creature’s thirst would be far from quenched. Every soul it consumed created an insatiable need, the hunger like a cancer, eating away at its humanity.

An unnatural shriek pierced the silence, echoing off the walls. The dishonorable assassin attacked from behind.

Jericho crossed his arms, grasping the handles of the perfectly matched curved daggers on his hips. Racing footsteps hammered the floor, drawing closer.Patience. Wait for it. Now!

He jerked the karambits free and spun. Metal sang. The rogue’s head fell to the ground, and its body crumpled.

Jericho watched its twitching limbs with disinterest. He took no pleasure nor satisfaction in the act. The rogue vampire had broken their laws. It was Jericho’s duty to punish him for those crimes.

How many was that this month alone? Ten? Twenty? He used to keep a tally, but at some point, he’d lost count of all the wretched creatures he scoured from this earth.Because of her.Thousands of the condemned he’d killed to erase the stain she’d left on his soul. And yet he remained tainted.

There was a time he’d desired more from his long existence. As decades passed, he’d come to accept that this was his sacred duty. He served his clan leader, enforced Council laws, delivered justice. He trained, he hunted, he executed. It was enough.

Colin appeared at his side, a bottle of machine oil in his hand. He shoved a length of blond hair from his eyes, smearing grease on his forehead. “That’s the third one just this week. I swear, since this drug hit the streets, I feel more like an exterminator hunting rats than a warrior in an elite guard. I thought when Salvatore was gone, this bullshit would come to an end. Instead, we have rogues popping up all over the city.”

Months ago, they’d eliminated Salvatore Guerra. The vampire had created an army of rogues by injecting newly turned vampires with a devastating drug. Little did they realize it was only the beginning. While Salvatore had been destroyed, his drug survived. Multiplied. Spread.

“It’s a shame that pain in the ass lycan, Ronan, killed his drug-stealing cousin because I’d really love to have a word with the bastard. We wouldn’t be in this situation if Daniel hadn’t stolen Salvatore’s drug and peddled it to the highest bidder.”

Jericho sighed. He shouldn’t have allowed Ronan inside Daniel’s cell. At the time, he’d hoped the moon-crazed lycan could scare some information out of the traitor. He was wrong. “What’s done is done.” Now that someone had duplicated the drug and was mass-producing it, retrieval of the stolen vials was pointless. “Grab his wrists, and let’s finish this.”

“Why? You in a hurry to polish your sword collection?” Colin taunted.

Yes. “No.” He grabbed the rogue’s legs.

Colin snagged the arms of the headless corpse. “It’s a sad day when your partner would rather spend time alone stroking his sword than share a drink with you. When’s the last time you took a night off?” They piled the body on top of its victim.