All That Bleeds Read online

  Praise for Kimberly Frost’s

  Southern Witch series

  “Delivers a delicious buffet of supernatural creatures, served up Texas-style—hot, spicy, and with a bite!”

  —Kerrelyn Sparks, New York Times bestselling author

  “An utter delight. Wickedly entertaining with a surprise on every page. Keeps you guessing until the end. Kimberly Frost is a talent to watch.”

  —Annette Blair, national bestselling author

  “One heck of a debut from Kimberly Frost…This is definitely an excellent read, and for a debut, it’s nothing less than fantastic.”

  —ParaNormal Romance

  “Kimberly Frost’s Southern Witch series is destined for great things. Full of action, suspense, romance, and humor, [Barely Bewitched] had me hooked from the first page until the last.”

  —Huntress Book Reviews

  “Frost’s latest Southern Witch novel has all the fun, fast, entertaining action readers have come to expect from her…Populated with fairies, goblins, vampires, wizards, rampantplants, and a few nasty-temperedhumans thrown in for goodmeasure, there’s no end to the things that can and do go hilariously wrong”

  —Monsters and Critics

  “What an amazing author! Kimberly Frost’s Southern Witch series is fated for great things. Barely Bewitched was full of romance [and] magical havoc, and goes from one wild scenario to another. I was definitely hooked… and couldn’t put it down.”

  —Romance Junkies

  “Halfway Hexed more than deserves a Perfect 10 rating with its thrill ride of a story and heartwarming romantic moments…Having not read the previous novels, being able to jump into the third book and love it so much is a true testament to how well Kimberly Frost can construct a story.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “One hundred percent entertaining and satisfying… Sassy, sexy, and seriously fun.”

  RT Book Reviews

  “A laugh-out-loud magical ride that I didn’t want to stop. There’s humor, romance, and action all rolled into a fun, entertaining read with great characters and an intriguing plot. I was hooked.”

  TwoLips Reviews (Recommended Read)

  Berkley titles by Kimberly Frost

  WOULD-BE WITCH

  BARELY BEWITCHED

  HALFWAY HEXED

  ALL THAT BLEEDS

  Kimberly Frost

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

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  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

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  South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  ALL THAT BLEEDS

  A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / January 2012

  Copyright © 2012 by Kimberly Chambers.

  Excerpt on pages 303–324 by Kimberly Frost copyright © by Kimberly Chambers.

  Cover art by Melanie Delon.

  Cover design by Rita Frangie.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-0-425-24580-4

  BERKLEY SENSATION®

  Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY SENSATION® is a regsitered trademark of PenguinGroup (USA) Inc.

  The “B” design is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  For Sandy Fiaschetti

  A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S

  I’d like to thank my wonderful family and friends for their continued enthusiasm and support. It means so much to me!

  For being there years ago when the seeds that inspired this story were planted, thank you to Sandy Fiaschetti. For being a sounding board as I brainstormed this story, I’d like to thank David Mohan, who is a great critique partner. For reading passages and for all the amazing support they’ve provided, I’d like to thank Laura Montgomery and Rick Haufe. For her positive spirit and wonderful friendship, thanks to Lorin Oberweger. For writing dates at Java Dave’s, thanks to Kim Lenox. For taking time out of their busy writing schedules to read this book and offer quotes, thanks to Janet Chapman and Nina Bangs.

  For fantastic book signings and great support of the Southern Witch series, thanks to everyone at Murder by the Book. For a wonderful romance book club, thanks to Karla and Jan and Katy Budget Books. For a wonderful week, thanks to Writers Retreat Workshop. For terrific presentations and a great writing community, thanks to WHRWA and Bay Area RWA.

  For saying she’d love to see me write something dark and for giving me opportunities that have helped me grow so much as a writer, many thanks to my editor Leis Pederson. For doing so much to promote the books, thank you to my publicist Caitlin Mulrooney-Lyski. For polishing my books, giving them beautiful covers, and introducing them to booksellers, thanks to the team at Berkley. For being a terrific agent, thank you to Elizabeth Winick Rubinstein.

  And as always, many thanks to my readers.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23<
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  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Prologue

  2007

  I can’t believe this is happening, Alissa thought. She whirled around to face her bodyguard, Mr. Clark. His lean form was rigidly straight, his expression grim as she stepped forward.

  “We can’t just stand by,” she said in a low voice with a quick glance around the house’s panic room: it had oatmeal-colored walls, a stocked refrigerator, plush couches, and a bathroom with a cavernous slate-tiled shower. A person could live in the panic room for quite a while, and certainly nothing, not even a demon, could get through the magically-reinforced steel walls that were as thick as those of a bank vault. Yes, safe and comfortable—if they were willing to ignore the slaughter happening in the rest of the house. The Arts & Innovation Benefit had turned into a nightmare. Mr. Clark had pulled her down the hall to safety before she’d realized what was happening.

  Alissa took a deep breath. The sterile air had an almost metallic tang. She straightened to her full height and beckoned for Mr. Clark’s gun. He ignored her outstretched hand. She inched forward, her pink champagne Balenciaga gown swishing over the carpet.

  Beyond the bodyguard’s shoulder, the giant screen showed the ballroom, where an enormous demon nearly eight feet tall was holding a roomful of humans hostage. Dead security officers littered the dance floor like discarded party favors. The greasy, gray-skinned demon yawned, its toothless mouth as wide as a cavern. Would he swallow his victims whole? Like a snake? He had no weapon, but with razor-sharp claws and inhuman strength, he didn’t need one.

  How did the demon even cross into our world?

  There had never been an incident like it in Alissa’s lifetime. Or even in her mother’s time. For the fifty-four years since the muses had inspired mankind to defeat the vampires during the Rising, the world had not tolerated supernatural threats. In the twenty-first century, no vampires existed and no demons rose. Humankind wrote the laws that ruled the world. And everyone had been safe. Until now.

  “Mr. Clark, either go out and help those people or give me your gun so I can.” Her voice was as sharp as she could make it. She might only be twenty-one, but, as a daughter of the House of North, in a time of crisis she was prepared to lead. She kept her arms tight to her sides in hopes that he wouldn’t see them tremble.

  “Unless Mr. Xenakis gives the order, that door doesn’t open until the creature is gone or dead,” Mr. Clark said.

  Alissa narrowed her eyes. Dimitri Xenakis, the Etherlin Council’s president, would never give an order that would put her in danger, but he also wouldn’t have locked the panic room when so many other people were still outside.

  “Mr. Xenakis isn’t here, but I know he would want us to help. Open the door. I’ll go out and distract the demon long enough for people to escape. You can get anyone into the panic room who’s too afraid or too slow to run.”

  Mr. Clark folded his arms across his chest, his black tuxedo jacket revealing the slight bulge on his left side where his holstered gun was positioned. “You expect me to use you as bait?” he scoffed.

  “Yes, because I expect us to do something,” she said, the irritation rising in her voice.

  A flicker of movement drew her eyes to the screen. The creature attacked again. The red violet eyes were wild. And merciless. The victim’s bloodied body fell to the creature’s feet. Alissa’s stomach churned, and she had to swallow against its rising contents.

  Be strong! Don’t let Clark see weakness. She turned from the screen, clinging to her composure.

  She pushed back a strand of hair that had come loose when she’d raced down the hall. “We have to do something,” she whispered.

  “The silver and iron bullets bounced off it. The creature is invulnerable.” Mr. Clark shook his head. “I would still face him if you weren’t here, but you are. If I open the door and he catches the scent of your blood, he’ll be on you in seconds once I’m dead. You know a muse’s blood is irresistible to the Damned.” He paused. “Nothing but Mr. Xenakis’s direct order will make me open that door.”

  “But the demon could stay until everyone is dead,” Alissa argued, holding out a hand to implore him. “We can’t wait. Please. You have to let me try.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “Until more Etherlin Security officers arrive, it doesn’t make sense to engage it. This demon started its rampage in the Varden, and the ventala didn’t manage to kill it. ES needs to come out in force to defeat it.”

  “It started in the Varden? I wonder if someone there raised the demon and then lost control of it. I guess that shouldn’t surprise me.”

  The ventala so often displayed bad judgment. They were too driven by impulse and their thirst for trouble.

  Mr. Clark shook his head in disgust. “We had our chance to rid the world of them. We blew it.”

  Alissa frowned. “They are part human.”

  “So what? I’m in favor of capital punishment for human sociopaths, and ventala—even generations down the line—are more like vampires than people. Natural born killers. Given the chance, they’d recreate the Rising. I guarantee it.”

  She stiffened at the thought of another Rising. It had been one of the darkest times in human history. In the early 1950s after so many people had already died from the Spanish flu epidemic and in the world wars, shapeshifting vampires in bat form had envenomated and drained millions. Initially, people hadn’t realized that the bats were vampires. They’d thought that people were dying from a new type of plague for which bats were the vector.

  Eventually, the truth was suspected as un-mutated vampires hunted in the wake of their shifting counterparts, but no weapons were effective against the predators. Human losses were massive. When the muses inspired the development of the V3 ammunition, humans finally began to fight back effectively.

  Afterward, the tide of human fury had been boundless, and savvy vampires lacking the “Bat Plague” mutation had stopped hunting and tried aligning themselves with mankind by taking human lovers and having children with them. It hadn’t saved the vampires; it had only created a new race of bloodthirsty creatures for the world to contend with: ventala.

  A tremor rocked the house, and they looked up at the screen. A figure in black strode into the ballroom. He shrugged off a black duster coat, letting it drop in his wake without slowing his stride.

  “Merrick,” Mr. Clark mumbled.

  “Who’s Merrick?” Alissa asked, staring at the dark-haired man on the screen who wore sunglasses despite the late hour. He stopped about twenty feet from the creature, then slid a knife from the sheath on his hip. He was tall and broad, but the monster was enormous.

  Mr. Clark leaned forward. “He can’t be serious. That blade looks like it’s made of ivory. It’ll crack long before it gets through a demon’s hide.”

  Merrick’s lips moved, and Alissa bent over the controls and pressed a button to unmute the surveillance system.

  To the people, Merrick said, “Get out.” He nodded to the door, but when they inched toward it, the demon roared and they froze. “Go ahead,” Merrick said, even as the creature crouched, ready to attack them.

  Merrick clucked his tongue, drawing the demon’s attention. “Come, Corthus. I’m your dance partner.”

  “What’d he just say?” Mr. Clark asked.

  Alissa blinked, realizing that Merrick had spoken to the creature in Latin. She’d translated his words in her head without thinking. “He’s goading the demon.”

  “Not for long,” Mr. Clark said grimly.

  Without warning, the demon sprang forward. Alissa gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Merrick slid away, and the demon’s claws smashed a chair but didn’t get a piece of the man who continued to taunt him.
As he fought, Merrick’s unflinching confidence and strength amazed her.

  Nothing about his body had changed, but he moved like smoke, curling close and then away. The demon cocked its head and looked down. She saw it then, blackish fluid spraying from the demon’s side. Merrick’s blade had connected.

  Merrick smiled at the demon’s startled expression. “Come on. That can’t be all you’ve got. I got up before noon to get here.”

  The demon roared and charged again. Merrick slashed and arced away, his motions fluid, almost acrobatic. The demon crumpled, moaning. Its guttural voice protested in Latin. “Impossible,” it said.

  “Apparently not,” Merrick replied. His weapon rested casually near his thigh for a moment before he struck again, sinking the blade into the demon’s skull.

  Alissa recoiled, her hands in tight fists. The demon stilled.

  He made that look easy when all the others couldn’t even wound it. Where did he come from?

  Merrick shook his head at the demon as its simmering flesh rapidly rotted into a lumpy puddle on the floor. “Not much of a peach after all,” Merrick mumbled. He turned then and looked around at the bodies before he glanced up into the surveillance camera. He seemed to be staring directly at them, though with his sunglasses on it was impossible to tell for sure. The corner of his mouth curved up.

  “You can come out now,” he mouthed.

  She blushed, embarrassed that he’d guessed that someone was hiding.

  “Bastard,” Mr. Clark grumbled.

  “How could he know we’re in here?” she asked.

  “He doesn’t. He’s just guessing,” Clark said, walking to the refrigerator at the back of the room. “It’s all over. Sit and have some water.”

  “No,” she murmured.

  Onscreen, Merrick turned and strolled to retrieve his coat.

  Alissa strode to the door and unlocked it, then she darted out and down the corridor before Mr. Clark could stop her. The air from the ballroom smelled like asphalt and sulfur. She grimaced at the stench, but it faded as she reached the foyer.

  Merrick seemed taller up close. At least six and a half feet.

  Beautiful bone structure. Even obscured by whisker stubble, she could tell.