Phoenix Contract: Part Three (Fallen Angel Watchers) Read Online Free PDF

positively identified her as a vampire. She appeared so human that only the tiniest telling traits had given her true nature away, her pale complexion and her nocturnal habits. Both were traits that any human might’ve possessed, and she showed none of the typical signs of decay that usually marked the undead for what they were. It wasn’t until they’d observed her purchasing black market blood from a Red Cross employee that Troy had finally accepted that she was a vampire.
    Even then, the circumstances troubled him. Why had she been buying blood instead of hunting? For the week they had watched her, they never saw her kill. Her exact species of undead was unknown to them, but she passed so completely for human that they suspected she might be a new breed. Troy had never seen anything like her before, and he hoped he never would again.
    Katsue had wanted to move in for the kill much sooner, but Troy had insisted that they wait to be sure. His impatient, impulsive partner had chafed at the restraint, but he’d insisted, remaining staunchly immovable.
    Alastors existed to destroy demons and were the front line of defense in the Watcher’s war. A good hunter quickly developed an almost preternatural affinity for spotting undead. However, sometimes mistakes were made, ghastly errors or terrible lapses of judgment that destroyed lives.
    It occurred during Troy’s first year, his first kill, and he had sworn it would never happen again. Before Katsue, he’d been assigned to work with Thrash who’d acted as mentor and partner, teaching the new guy the ropes. Young and eager to prove himself, Troy acted without Thrash’s go-ahead. Troy had identified a vampire at a club, an anemic Goth girl with a blood fetish. He lured her away and took the kill, stabbing her through the belly with a wooden stake, angled upward so that the tip hit her heart.
    She’d been human, barely older than a child, and Troy had inherited a legacy of guilt that influenced every future decision he’d ever make. And rightly so.
    Thrash had covered for him, and to this day, they were the only witnesses to an innocent person’s death.
    The memory of her falling over, grasping at the stake embedded in her chest, shock and accusation in her eyes—it haunted him. Troy still woke up, shaking and drenched in sweat, the young Goth girl’s ghost imprisoned forever in his nightmares. Never again.
    Abruptly, Cheryl swung around to face him, and Troy tensed. This was it. She’d attack. Only he wasn’t ready. His trip down memory lane had left him shaken with slowed reactions.
    Instead of launching at him, Cheryl leaned against the side of a battered blue Chevy, and Troy belatedly realized that they’d reached her car. “You know, I just want to be sure that you don’t have the wrong idea about me,” she babbled. “I don’t normally meet strange, but really cute and smart men, in coffee shops and just leave with them.” She winked and smiled at him, flirting. “But I have a good feeling about you. It’s like I can trust you.”
    “You can,” Troy assured her. He was completely trustworthy. It was he who couldn’t trust her.
    Cheryl smiled, a warm spontaneous grin that displayed all of her even white teeth without the slightest hint of fang or pronged tongue. She rushed forward, and Troy tensed against her tackle, then her lips pressed against his. The unexpected kiss was sweet and pleasurable, and her scent filled his nostrils—the faint aroma of roses.
    The kiss created a sense of connection between them, a sense of sharing and rightness, and a pleasant buzz robbed him of his suspicion and fear. Amazingly, Troy’s body responded to the feminine form pressed against him. He wrapped her in his arms and increased the pressure of the kiss, making hungry demands on her mouth.
    A gunshot thundered through the alley, and blood exploded from the side of Cheryl’s head, splattering Troy’s face and shirtfront. Cheryl went limp in his arms, and he