The Scarlet Dagger (The Red Sector Chronicles, #1) Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Krystle Jones
facing down the vampire by the bus. It was familiar, almost comforting, and I felt strangely empowered as I fought him head-on.
He sidestepped my thrust, knocking the blade aside with the barrel of the pistol, but I quickly recovered, swinging back with a powerful back kick to his face, which he also deftly blocked with his forearm muscle. I tried slashing at him again, this time toward his ribs, but he deflected that too with the pistol, his movements matching my own. Reaching beneath my blouse, I pulled out a regular switchblade and made a series of gouges toward his eyes, throat, and heart, which he also blocked. Frustrated, I flipped the knife so the blade was in my hand and flung it as hard as I could toward his head. He ducked – while laughing , I might add – and I fumed at him as the blade struck the wall.
“ What’s so funny?” I demanded, furious. Was he mocking me? And why wasn’t he fighting back?
His laughter quickly died away. “Nothing about this is funny,” he said stonily. “Not a damn thing.”
Huh? Did he mean being a vampire? I tried to imagine being changed into one – which, from what we knew, required one to be completely drained and to drink the blood of a living vampire – and my blood ran cold. We knew it was possible, but improbable. The vampires we had studied usually killed their victims before changing them, they were so out-of-control.
I couldn’t imagine a worse fate than being turned, and suddenly this talking, seemingly sensible man before me became incredibly tragic. He would never age, a beauty queen’s wet dream. I couldn’t imagine being a teenager forever. There were too many things I wanted out of life. Then I remembered he was a vampire, and any pity I felt vanished.
You need to get rid of him, now.
Thinking fast, I dropped to my knees, gripped a handful of the rug, and yanked. The vampire started to slip, doing a backhand spring with one hand before he could fall, but I was ready. Getting a running start, I dropped and slid right beneath him as he sailed through the air, running the blade along his chest. It sliced through his shirt like butter. He cried out, his agony turning into a ferocious growl as he dropped the pistol, and I knew the blade had struck home.
When I got to my feet and whirled around, he was already coming at me.
That’s more like it .
He threw a punch toward my temple, which I blocked with my arm, quickly slicing upward with the dagger and cutting his wrist. He hissed and retracted his hand, bringing up his knee to catch me in the stomach, but I brought the pummel of the dagger down hard, connecting with a sickening crack to his kneecap.
It didn’t stop him. He never paused, his speed increasing as he attacked, throwing an open-hand gauge to the side of my neck, followed by another punch to my shoulder, all while I blocked as swiftly as I could.
I tasted the first twinges of panic. He’s been trained . His moves are too practiced not to be. Stay calm. Pretend you’re fighting Leo.
Through the dark, the glowing edges of the Scarlet Steel wounds burned along his chest and wrist, and I could smell the chemicals as they ate away his flesh. Both were shallow cuts and the acid would take far longer to penetrate the deeper tissue, that is, if his accelerated regeneration didn’t heal him before then. A minor setback I should’ve seen coming. I guess part of me didn’t think I would actually run into any vampires, believing the news when they assured us the military had pushed them all back. I had lapped it up just like every other American anxious for some hope in this dismal war.
The man stooped on his hands and spun low toward my knees, trying to knock me off my feet, but I leaped the second I felt his boot touch my calf and his leg soared beneath me.
“ You’re fast,” he said, sounding amused and maybe a little impressed. “But I’m faster.”
In a move quicker
He sidestepped my thrust, knocking the blade aside with the barrel of the pistol, but I quickly recovered, swinging back with a powerful back kick to his face, which he also deftly blocked with his forearm muscle. I tried slashing at him again, this time toward his ribs, but he deflected that too with the pistol, his movements matching my own. Reaching beneath my blouse, I pulled out a regular switchblade and made a series of gouges toward his eyes, throat, and heart, which he also blocked. Frustrated, I flipped the knife so the blade was in my hand and flung it as hard as I could toward his head. He ducked – while laughing , I might add – and I fumed at him as the blade struck the wall.
“ What’s so funny?” I demanded, furious. Was he mocking me? And why wasn’t he fighting back?
His laughter quickly died away. “Nothing about this is funny,” he said stonily. “Not a damn thing.”
Huh? Did he mean being a vampire? I tried to imagine being changed into one – which, from what we knew, required one to be completely drained and to drink the blood of a living vampire – and my blood ran cold. We knew it was possible, but improbable. The vampires we had studied usually killed their victims before changing them, they were so out-of-control.
I couldn’t imagine a worse fate than being turned, and suddenly this talking, seemingly sensible man before me became incredibly tragic. He would never age, a beauty queen’s wet dream. I couldn’t imagine being a teenager forever. There were too many things I wanted out of life. Then I remembered he was a vampire, and any pity I felt vanished.
You need to get rid of him, now.
Thinking fast, I dropped to my knees, gripped a handful of the rug, and yanked. The vampire started to slip, doing a backhand spring with one hand before he could fall, but I was ready. Getting a running start, I dropped and slid right beneath him as he sailed through the air, running the blade along his chest. It sliced through his shirt like butter. He cried out, his agony turning into a ferocious growl as he dropped the pistol, and I knew the blade had struck home.
When I got to my feet and whirled around, he was already coming at me.
That’s more like it .
He threw a punch toward my temple, which I blocked with my arm, quickly slicing upward with the dagger and cutting his wrist. He hissed and retracted his hand, bringing up his knee to catch me in the stomach, but I brought the pummel of the dagger down hard, connecting with a sickening crack to his kneecap.
It didn’t stop him. He never paused, his speed increasing as he attacked, throwing an open-hand gauge to the side of my neck, followed by another punch to my shoulder, all while I blocked as swiftly as I could.
I tasted the first twinges of panic. He’s been trained . His moves are too practiced not to be. Stay calm. Pretend you’re fighting Leo.
Through the dark, the glowing edges of the Scarlet Steel wounds burned along his chest and wrist, and I could smell the chemicals as they ate away his flesh. Both were shallow cuts and the acid would take far longer to penetrate the deeper tissue, that is, if his accelerated regeneration didn’t heal him before then. A minor setback I should’ve seen coming. I guess part of me didn’t think I would actually run into any vampires, believing the news when they assured us the military had pushed them all back. I had lapped it up just like every other American anxious for some hope in this dismal war.
The man stooped on his hands and spun low toward my knees, trying to knock me off my feet, but I leaped the second I felt his boot touch my calf and his leg soared beneath me.
“ You’re fast,” he said, sounding amused and maybe a little impressed. “But I’m faster.”
In a move quicker
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