Goodbye Night Bird

Dereck Cliffe was a rock star and avampire. He should have been immortal, but he wasn't. The three womenin his life are now struggling to deal with his early demise. Solangehis vampire lover fights the edge of madness without him. Out ofcontrol she relocates to the other side of the country, to start herlife over. Her killing spree has brought the police, a vampire hunterand the FBI to stop her. Her only hope is the other two women from Dereck'slife. Shana Collins, a vampire novelist and Sijn Black, a guitar playerjoin together to save her. Their love for the rock singer will takethem on a rescue mission from hell. Shana, Sijn and handful of friendsrisk arrest, death and Solange's own anger to keep a promise to theirbeloved Nightbird.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Goodbye NightbirdBy Karen DiazAuthorHouseCopyright © 2009 Karen DiazAll right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4490-0085-1Chapter OneGoodbye, Nightbird Opening night. The vampire stood next to a marble pillar, her auburn hair, brushed to a perfect sheen, veiled the left side of her angular face. Blue eyes glittered dangerously above the wine glass raised to her red lips. The burgundy wine tasted bland on her tongue despite its rich, full-bodied flavor, as was the case when she ate or drank things other than blood, but one had to fit in. This was not her first opening night and would not be her last. Most she never attended, but tonight the owner of the gallery, Trina, had insisted. With the release of more and more new work, Solange grew ever more popular. The gallery, Night Expressions, featured vampire artists; of course, only the vampires knew that. So many of their kind had gathered in L.A. and many had found their way to Trina. She had created a haven for them and Solange had been among those lucky ones. Trina stood talking with some aging businessmen, her blonde hair soft and alluring, even in the fluorescent light. Intoxicated by every movement of her svelte body, or her vampire eyes, the entranced men would leave tonight with a painting, minus a great deal of money. She never fed on customers, though they would have gladly offered. Solange watched the crowd gathering in the gallery. Every weekend more and more people came to see her work. The actual variance in the people amazed her, and their reactions amused her. Thoughts hurtled at her from their minds: awestruck and excited thoughts from young girls; critical analysis of shapes, colors and perspective from yuppie art critics; the best came from the outraged pillars of the community. Screaming about evil and the carnality that should be censored, while their minds were swirling pools of filth that rarely surpassed the imagery of her paintings. Disgusted, she moved her focus from them to the young girls, whose eyes were focused on a painting of Dereck. Many portraits of him filled the gallery; all dark, all beautiful, all signed "Angel" in red paint. On a thirty-by-forty-inch canvas, a dragon of paper, cloth and sequins embraced Dereck Cliffe, leadsinger of Nightbird. The incandescence of his pale skin shone from beneath his long, coal-black tresses: the perfect vampire. "How they adore your lover," purred Trina in her ear. "Do you think it's that vampire charm or his handsome face?" "I think it's both," Solange answered her friend. "It scares me sometimes, we're too much in the public eye." She took another drink of the wine. "Notoriety is a dangerous thing for our kind." "He seems to be handling it well," smirked Trina. She nodded her head toward the entrance, where the glass doors had swung forward to admit a throng of girls. At the center of their attention was Dereck, his dark head bent as he signed autographs and whispered to his unsuspecting public. "But forget him for a moment, I have some business to discuss with you." Solange followed her to the office in a back room of the gallery. Fliers pinned to the wall above the desk showed previous shows and artists, while small lights accented Trina's own work on an opposite wall. The blonde vampire opened a small book bound in blue leather and said, "I know you don't want to sell the portrait of Dereck and the dragon." She held up a hand to ward off a comment from Solange. "But a young man in Atlanta is offering me any price I want for it. When I told him it was not for sale he became even more insistent. I wish you would reconsider," said Trina, her eyes pleading. "That painting belongs to Dereck. It is only hanging because he wanted it here. Offer him another piece." "He wants other pieces too." Trina threw her hands emphatically in the air. "But he also insists on that one accompanying his purchases. Angel, a fan with lots money is a good thing." "Too bad, you know I don't care about the money. You know that I have more money than I can spend in a lifetime, even one of our lifetimes. Tell him over my dead body." Solange made it clear that this conversation was finished, and Trina knew not to push her any further, as she had a horrible temper. "Well, I think it's about time to rescue Dereck from his adoring public." With this she walked out of the office. She found him still surrounded by his squealing fans. As she approached, a thought tickled at her mind, a threat. Solange stopped and looked around for the human it came from. The mind seemed so familiar, like one that had followed her for many years; one she should have killed already. She searched for the familiar face in the crowd, but it was no longer there. Perhaps it had been only in her mind, perhaps she had become as paranoid as Dereck and Trina made her out to be. But one did not live as long as she had without some caution. Solange focused her mind back on Dereck. Her long legs brought her quickly to his side. The crowd of girls backed away at her approach, partially because she commanded them to step aside. A brilliant smile greeted her lover, just before she took his arm and kissed him on the cheek. Dereck smiled down at her but reprimanded her for chasing away his fans. "Are your claws showing, luv?" "No, my dear, just my heart. Can I help it if I don't share your love of being mobbed by pubescent humans?" She shrugged and said, "Besides I have a strange feeling about tonight. I picked up a thought in the crowd, a dangerous thought. But now it's gone." Dereck raised an eyebrow at her. "Your vampire hunter again, my Angel? I saw no one here." "How could you see anyone? You were too busy signing autographs." Solange pulled away from him. "And don't make light of the hunter, he's out there. He's insane, but he's still capable of finding us." "She's right, you know." Trina had joined them in the gallery. "I've picked up thoughts and vibes from him. His mind is shielded, perhaps by the insanity. Anyway, there have been murders lately in the papers, humans found with stakes through their hearts and their heads cut off. It seems our hunter can't tell the difference. Everyone is always scanning for him at night. I can't believe you of all people, Dereck, have missed him. How did you live to be five hundred or so years old?" "Please don't feed her paranoia, Trina. She thinks he's out for her, like a personal vendetta," Dereck grimaced. "Stop calling me paranoid! A little cautious, maybe, but I know what I'm talking about. I'm the one he wants. I need to find him and kill him before anyone else gets staked." Frustrated, she turned away from Dereck and Trina, but he caught her arm. "You're not going hunting for him tonight, I have other plans for you, my little painter." He pulled her back toward him, despite her protests (although she did not protest too much). "And what might that be my favorite model?" Her voice showed little of the humor of her words. "Just an evening alone. No paintings to sell, no fans, and especially no vampire hunters. Deal?" He smiled that innocent boyish smile that she could never say no to. "Okay, but have you fed?" Solange inquired. "I had a bite at the bar. What about you?" When she shook her head no, he asked, "Do you want me to get you a girl?" Her look of disgust reminded him they were not to her taste. "Oh, I forgot about your penchant for criminals." "Don't worry about me, this wine took the edge off my hunger. Besides, I can always hunt later, if I'm still thirsty." They quickly said their good-byes to Trina and left the gallery. In the back of Dereck's limousine they rode in silence to their mansion. They lived there along with twenty other vampires, including Trina. Surviving in modern times meant sticking together, and this home, this coven, offered them the protection they needed, and security systems functioned during the day to provide them with the safety to attain the sleep they required. Despite this, they had safe houses across the city in case sunrise came upon them too quickly, but they rarely ever used them. In their suite, Dereck and Solange entered a world unknown to many humans or vampires, together, sharing a need most vampires shunned. Both of them had been alone for hundreds of years but vowed never to be again. Love could not explain what existed between them, rather like a filling of a vast void. Neither past nor present existed at these times, just the sharing of body, blood and mind. Their lovemaking crossed thresholds of tenderness and pain that only one of immortality could sustain. Passion built as her blood flowed into him from her nipple pierced by his sharp fangs. Over and over her body quaked as his cold seed washed into her icy womb. They became as one when at her peak she sank her needle teeth into his neck and nursed the nectar that she found there. The strongest, sweetest blood came from her own kind, and Dereck's was the strongest of the strong. Even though his blood fed her it only enhanced her hunger, and as they lay in each other's arms, she knew she must hunt tonight. Only a kill would satisfy. Tonight there was food waiting for her and she could not wait for another night to kill. Dereck knew she would go out; it stood strongly in her mind. He touched her face, seeing the desire that his lovemaking had fueled, not extinguished. "Your taste for death will get you in trouble one day, my angel." "I only bring death to those that deserve it." This had always been her rationale. Unable to control herself when feeding, she learned long ago there is far less guilt when you kill a creature more evil than yourself. "I am very careful, luv." She kissed him. "Well, do be very careful, you may meet up with your vampire hunter." She wished she could slap the smirk off his face. "Laugh, go ahead, but he's out there, I feel it." She stood and slipped back into her black mini-dress. "I don't know if I'll make it back before sunrise, just might make use of one of the other houses." "That's okay, will you take the car?" Dereck asked, his concern for her showing on his face. "No, I can fly, and don't want to leave it parked where I'm going for a whole day. Kiss me again before I go, dear." She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his still-bloody mouth. And then she was gone. On a street that seemed like the other side of the world she touched down. She did not know the name of this street but it ran parallel to the one where the safe house stood. After a while all their streets looked the same. She stood shivering with hunger on a darkly lit corner when a young man caught her eye. A Latino; oh how she loved their blood and the passion found there, it reminded her of the old world. Why it was missing from so many now she could not say. But to find one who was so full of this passion, and evil as well, brought an ecstasy she so rarely enjoyed. Solange caught his eye soon after she saw him. He mistook her for a junkie, and out of the goodness of his heart offered her something to make her feel better. She allowed him to guide her to an abandoned building where they discussed payment for his drugs. In his mind, Solange saw she would need no money. His hands touched her hair: he had never seen a junkie with hair so shiny before. Slowly he worked his way down to her arms and breasts, touching her roughly. When he pulled her to him, she struck. Her blood teeth fully extended and sank into his neck. Blood spurted from the vein, filling her mouth and running down his back. The man could only moan as his life force drained out of him and into his vampire killer. Tinged with his passions, the blood pounded in Solange's head, leaving her senses reeling. So involved in her victim's last thoughts and the taste of his blood, she almost forgot sunrise. Leaving the man leaning against the wall in the decrepit building, she flew to the safe house. Tonight she seemed to be the only vampire in residence. Alone, she went to a room and sank into a silk-lined box to protect her from any harmful sunlight. As sleep overcame her she sent out a thought to Dereck, I love you. Across town Dereck received Solange's thought as he lay in his own coffin. Preparing himself for sleep, he did not pick up in the threat that waited outside the mansion's gates, a threat that Solange had feared for a long time. The vampire hunter had found their haven. Joel Killian stood outside the gates of Dereck Cliffe's home with several gas cans at his feet, and there were more in his car. He waited for sunrise with great anticipation. They would be helpless then; at last he would have the ultimate revenge. He knew the rock singer was a vampire, he'd known it from the moment he'd seen him with her ... Angel, his nemesis that had driven him to insanity. For years he had waited for the perfect time to destroy her, and because of her he now took on the job of vampire-killer. Tonight he would get them all. As soon as the sun shone brightly in the morning sky, he started to work. Years of training in electrical service had prepared him for opening the gates, so that they swung open for him easily. Once inside, he fitted a sprayer to a gas can and began dousing everything close to the house. The smell almost overpowered him as it rained in a fine mist onto the walls. When two hours had passed, everything reeked of gas; Joel had been very busy indeed. All that was left to do was to ignite the fire. Plastic explosives at strategic points, set to go off within seconds of each other, would start the fireworks. Nothing could survive that, not humans, and especially not vampires; those that weren't killed by the fire would be neatly finished off by the sun. Joel laughed to himself. It had taken him twenty years, but now Angel would pay. He had driven six miles before the explosions went off. Fire-truck sirens wailed in the distance as they sped to save the house and its occupants. Too late, thought Joel gleefully, too late. He headed for his apartment so he could celebrate his victory. Yes, he had finally done it: he had killed Angel. He was Joel the vampire-hunter. In her coffin in the safe house, Solange screamed in her sleep. She dreamt she was on fire. Burning, her skin sloughing away in the heat. Dereck's beautiful face melting below hair that flamed. Pain racked her body; her lungs drew their last breath, which was as hot as the mists of Hell. Soon all the visions stopped and peaceful slumber returned to her. At sunset, she could not rise soon enough. She propelled herself through the air toward home, to Dereck. Upon landing she discovered only ashes and a few stone columns where her home should be, where Dereck should be. It had to be a dream! She was still sleeping at the safe house, surely! But the ashes felt too hot under her feet as she walked over them, the dust in the air thick with the smell of death. This was no dream. Distraught, she searched through the ruins of the fire but found nothing. Tears streaked her face, as she searched for some sign of her friends, her lover. In a rage she tore down the yellow police tape surrounding what remained of the house. Outside the stone fence fans had already begun leaving flowers and poems to Dereck. Someone had left a newspaper that fluttered in the wind. Solange picked it up, and the damning headline read: DERECK CLIFFE DIES IN FIRE WITH ARTIST GIRLFRIEND. The vampire hunter, he was responsible for this, she thought. She would hunt him down for this, make him suffer, torture him. Her anger overtook her as she planned his death. Then she looked around her, and her anger was replaced by grief: everyone was gone. Her Dereck was gone. She screamed until there was no more air in her lungs. For the first time in twenty years, Solange stood alone. Chapter TwoStarting Over The night is a timeless designer. Earth sleeps innocently in her dark apparel while the creatures that belong to her walk naked in her trappings. Solange stood on her balcony; the breezes wrapped around her body like chiffon, ruffling her hair into a silky auburn plume on her head. She not only belonged to the night, Solange was its favorite model. Forever clothed in the designers' cloak of evil, she grieved. The breezes that played in her auburn hair also swirled through the ivy growing on the opposite bank of the stream. Solange wanted to smile as she leaned over the railing into the moving blackness below her; but her heart wouldn't let her. In myth her kind could never cross moving water, much less stand over it enjoying its bubbling noise. This was her first full night in this place and perhaps she had chosen it for the irony. She felt a little source of happiness because the tired old myth was not so, for the sound of moving water always had a soothing effect upon her. It allowed her to relax and her mind to wander, and she needed that. She needed to relax, to calm herself. Rest would not come to her because her very sleep was plagued by the nightmares of her past. Without anyone to comfort her, the torture grew until her heart longed for death. (Continues...) Excerpted from Goodbye Nightbirdby Karen Diaz Copyright © 2009 by Karen Diaz. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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