 
# Power of Four

### The First Four Chapters of the COLONY Series For Free

## Regina Morris

# Summary of books included in this collection

### Eternal Service (Book #1)

Power of Four

Regina Morris

Silkhaven Publishing, LLC

Smashwords Edition

### Eternal Service

When Agent Raymond Metcalf, vampire coven master of the COLONY, teams up with a human female operative–who has no idea that vampires even exist–will his mission or his heart be compromised first?

Career military woman, Alex Brennan, is being offered the promotion of a lifetime, and with it a romance that she has desperately been seeking. Does she dare accept the position as Director of the COLONY, an elite group of deadly creatures of the night and risk a dangerous romance with a man who isn't even human? Together, can they save the President?

### United Service

Sterling Metcalf is a modern–day vampire who clashes with his father's antiquated ideals. Being the half–breed of the COLONY group, Sterling hates being the team's weakest link. He jumps at an opportunity to do some fieldwork rescuing kidnapped vampire children and is accompanied by Kate Spencer, the nanny of one of the children.

* * *

Kate is a purebred vampire with a secret of her own. Can Sterling put aside his bad–boy ways and woo the lovely Kate? Will Kate accept the advances of a half–breed? Together, can they save the children from a religious cult who wants to kill them?

### Enduring Service

Sulie has been in love with the same human man for nearly thirty years. The object of her unrequited love is her boss, Dixon — the only human Sulie has come to truly know in her nearly 200 years of existence. As Dixon's retirement looms near, and his memory of Sulie and the last thirty years of his life is about to be erased, will she confront her fear of intimacy and take a leap of faith before it's too late?

* * *

Dixon has decided that it's time to retire and enjoy what time he has left. When Sulie is kidnapped during a medical emergency, Dixon realizes that retirement means giving up everything, and everyone, he's known for the last three decades. Will he risk his life, and his heart, to save her?

### Equality of Service

Fifteen years ago, COLONY Agent William Wardell met his future wife Jackie Pearlman. She's sexy, opinionated, and finds him to be a mockery of the American dream of equality for all. Can a past Freedom Rider and racial activist from the 1960s, now turned vampire, prove to the love of his life that he's not a political puppet?

### Contents

Reviews

1. Eternal Service Chapter 1

2. Eternal Service Chapter 2

3. Eternal Service Chapter 3

4. Eternal Service Chapter 4

5. United Service Chapter 1

6. United Service Chapter 2

7. United Service Chapter 3

8. United Service Chapter 4

9. Enduring Service Chapter 1

10. Enduring Service Chapter 2

11. Enduring Service Chapter 3

12. Enduring Service Chapter 4

13. Equality of Service Prologue

14. Equality of Service Chapter 1

15. Equality of Service Chapter 2

16. Equality of Service Chapter 3

17. Equality of Service Chapter 4

About the Author

Also By Regina Morris
Silkhaven Publishing, LLC

Power of Four ISBN: 978-0-9914034-7-9

Copyright (c) 2014-2020, Regina Morris.

Smashwords Edition

(V5) January 20, 2020

**Eternal Service** : ISBN: 978–0–9888222–0–7 (ebook), ISBN: 978–0–9888222–1–4 (paperback), Library of Congress Control Number: 2013900069, Copyright (c) 2012-2020.

**United Service** : ISBN: 978–0–9888222–6–9 (ebook), ISBN: 978–0–9888222–7–6 (paperback), Library of Congress Control Number: 2013911020, Copyright (c) 2013-2020.

**Enduring Service** : ISBN: 978–0–9914034–0–0 (ebook), ISBN: 978–0–9914034–1–7 (paperback), Library of Congress Control Number: 2014900012, Copyright (c) 2014-2020.

**Equality of Service:** ISBN: 978–0–9914034–4–8 (ebook), ISBN: 978-1-948997-09-6 (paperback), Library of Congress Control Number: 2014909132, Copyright (c) 2014-2020.

These books are works of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. All of the characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in these novels are either products of the author's imagination or are fictitiously used. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without the written permission of the author Regina Morris and the publisher Silkhaven Publishing with the exception in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Printed in the United States of America.

Silkhaven Publishing, LLC does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third–party Web sites or their content.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of Silkhaven Publishing, LLC is illegal and punishable by law. To obtain a copy of this novel, please purchase only through authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

DISCAIMERS:

These novels are for mature audiences only. Violence, sex, and nudity are described in this book and the target audience is for individuals 18+ years of age.

Even though the story takes place in and around Washington, DC, the White House, and the president of the United States, these books are suspenseful romances and not political thrillers.

  Created with Vellum
**What Reviewers are saying about the COLONY Series**

"A fresh new twist to the vampire genre." -TwinsieTalk

"Ms. Morris' novels are a breath of fresh air... job well done!" -KK Book Reviews

"I completely LOVED this book." -Crystal's Many Reviews

"Definitely a 5 Star book and a must read!" - Addicted to Books

"I was just entranced with the world Regina Morris created." -Romance Book Worm

"This book is has an amazing balance of love, suspense, action, and drama that kept me turning the pages and wanting more and more from the characters. I can't wait to find out what is going to happen in the next book!" -Crystal's Many Reviews

"Amazed to see a new take on vampires and a version that has not been written to death." -Romance Book Worm

"This was well written and full of suspense." -The Boyfriend Bookmark

"Author Regina Morris has the vampire story, the romance story, and the thriller story and she does a masterful job of balancing all three. I say that she's got the thriller part down as well as Tom Clancy had in his books, keeping the situation going and tense without losing the other parts of the story." -Paranormal Romance Guild

"This book left me wanting more.... Regina has a perfect amount of suspense, longing, a shock factor and of course the romance. I can't wait to see what she has coming for us next." --KK Reviews

# Eternal Service Chapter 1

**"ETERNAL SERVICE" COLONY Series, Novel #1 Chapter One**

A cold chill ran up Raymond's spine as he caught the sight of the woman's blood on his hands. It remained bright red, and its coppery scent remained strong. It was such a waste of life, and he punched the subdued vampire responsible for her loss once again.

Raymond struggled to keep his exhausted blood–soaked enemy pinned to the cold hard ground. "You son of a bitch," he scowled. The crisp dried leaves crunched beneath his prey as he struck the vampire once more. "That woman had a life. She had a family who cared for her – and you killed her like she was nothing."

The subdued prisoner shrugged, not making eye contact. "Collateral damage. Nothing more."

The cool night breeze blew the scent of the woman's blood into Raymond's face, causing him to grimace. He shook his head in disgust. The secluded spot where he held the perp down intensified the darkness of the evening, but he could still easily make out the faces of his men.

One of the shadows separated from the darkness. Agent Ben knelt down next to Raymond, his dark skin and stocky, muscular build contrasting sharply with Raymond's tall, marble–like perfection. Ben crushed the prisoner's hands as he digitally scanned his fingerprints.

"Aargh! Son of a bitch! Look, I'll make a deal with you if you let me go."

Raymond felt his jaw tighten. They always wanted to make a deal. But there was no bargaining chip for this vampire, and Raymond's eyes narrowed as he studied him. "You don't know who hired you, so you have nothing to bargain with." He watched Ben finish his task and pocket the scanner. Next, Raymond glanced over at his son, Sterling, who was checking the vampire's belongings.

"I've got everything I need," Sterling mumbled as he tossed the backpack to the ground. "He knows nothing and is of no use to us."

Raymond pulled a dagger from his boot as Sterling, now gloved, took out a set of silver handcuffs from his pocket. "Once we're done processing you, the Vampire Council will want to talk with you."

The vampire's eyes widened, and Raymond could hear his heart beating faster. "I can pay you. I can get you gems, gold, blood... whatever you want," the vampire pleaded.

And there it was. Promises and bribes. Raymond gritted his teeth. It was always the last ditch of the truly desperate. He didn't bother to acknowledge the bribes. Instead, he showed him the cold steel blade as his answer.

"C'mon, everybody's got a price. What do you say?"

"You breached the perimeter of the White House in an effort to kill the President," Raymond accused.

"I did a job, but I wasn't sent to kill anybody. I just forged some documents."

Raymond stared at the vamp in disgust. "Tell that to the guards you attacked and the pregnant woman you killed as you fled."

The forger's eyes widened, as if thinking of anything to say to help him escape. After a moment, he finally blurted out, "I tried to plant bugs. I also had to deliver documents. That's all!"

Sterling held the cuffs closer. "We already know that."

"Name the target." Raymond growled.

An answer squeaked out from the vampire, "The President."

"What about the documents?" Sterling asked.

The forger eyes darted over to Sterling. "The drop didn't take place. No one showed up at the appointed time. That's why I still have them. I don't even know who I was meeting."

"Perhaps you were expendable," Ben chimed in. He glanced over to Raymond. "Or, the documents were no longer of use."

"The documents are fine," the forger barked out with pride.

Raymond looked over to the backpack. "We'll be taking those _fine_ documents off your hands." Moving the dagger so the blade reflected the dim moonlight, he added, "There's also a price to pay for the lives you took. And the Vampire Council will make sure you pay it."

Raymond glanced over to his son, but then felt the vampire suddenly shift under him. The vampire's hands grabbed the blade and plunged it downward into his own heart, twisting it for good measure. Purple blood sprayed from the wound, the vampire aging decades in seconds.

No. Not this time. Raymond put his hands upon the vampire's chest and applied pressure, but the blood continued to pour out. He watched as the vampire's hair grew from a peppered gray to a snowy white, his skin wrinkling and becoming paler.

Raymond's knees sank into the dirt as the vampire disappeared beneath him. A cloud of dust scattered across Raymond's fatigues, and the once shiny blade now lay stained in a dusty mound on the ground. The last remains of the captive.

"Damn it!" Raymond's hands grasped at the dust.

"He'd rather die than face the Council," Sterling said, still holding the cuffs.

"I don't blame him." Ben knelt down beside Raymond, "We'll have to list him as an enemy killed in action," he said as he collected what was left of the EKIA for DNA.

Raymond took in a deep breath. The vampire had no more information for them, but it was still a loss. "We need to inform the Director and Homeland Security about this breach," Raymond said as he stood and shook the dust from his pants.

Nodding, Sterling took out his phone. "Dixon, we need to meet. McGregor's Pub. Give us an hour."

McGregor's pub sat on the outskirts of the suburbs – the type of place with a back lawn as a parking lot, beer (not Appletinis) filling the taps, and a bartender always ready for you to bend his ear. The lit neon beer signs shined through the window and glass door, so Raymond led the team in.

They strode past the long bar counter, with its many empty stools sitting in a row. The few tables in the place were clustered together. Booths and pool tables took up all the room in the way back. The older place remained kept up, at least to the point where you could sit down and not worry about sticking to the chairs.

Raymond's eyes lit up and a smile crossed his face as he saw the team's Director, his only human friend, drinking beer at a table in the back.

"Dixon, good you could make it here so fast," Raymond said as they approached the old man.

The waitress eyed the three handsome men as soon as they entered, and bustled to the booth to take their order. As she approached, she eyed each one as though sizing them up. Each stood well over six feet in height, and offered her various flavors to choose from. Raymond, towering over the others and striking with his dark hair and pale, flawless skin, sat down next to Dixon. The other two men squeezed their large frames into the other side of the booth. The shorter of the two, with his long blond locks and playboy appearance managing to look like he was lounging even in the small space, seemed to have tempted the waitress, as did the cocoa brown skinned and powerfully built muscles of the other. Of course, each one was her senior by over a century, but that was undetectable. "You boys want something?" She winked over at Ben as her chosen favorite. Obviously, she would be fine with a little brown sugar in her sugar bowl tonight.

Raymond searched deep into her eyes and willed the human to obey him. "Quickly finish closing. We'll lock up when we're done here." As he compelled the waitress, Ben rose with his usual military precision to contend with the bartender. At a stern glance from his father, Sterling slouched over to each of the few patrons in the place. The pub cleared within minutes. The men helped themselves to drinks and gathered around their table.

"Okay, I'm guessing this has to do with what happened earlier tonight on the south lawn of the White House," Dixon said, scratching the gray whiskers of his five o'clock shadow. He then added, "The guards are fine. The hospital released them a short while ago. Naturally, the media frenzy is still going on. The incident has been classified as a random attack with the assailant having been captured. We used a classified, random picture to represent him to the media, and they seem to have accepted it."

"Has the President been briefed about the event?" asked Raymond.

"Yes. He was unaware of the breach at the time. He is still safely tucked away in the residence quarters, probably asleep by now." Dixon raised an eyebrow. "Nobody suspects anything, but am I correct in assuming the man was a vampire?"

"Yes." Raymond nodded towards Ben. "Show him."

Ben shrugged the backpack off his massive shoulders and handed the satchel over to Dixon, who opened the bag and studied its contents.

"These forged documents are damn good copies of the invite to the President's state dinner." He continued to scan the bag. "And, four security passes and paperwork as well. Christ," Dixon cursed.

"The vampire who forged these documents is the EKIA. He gave us quite a chase. He planned to ditch us in a park outside the city, but he didn't get away." Raymond sighed. "He also took a pregnant woman hostage at the start of the chase. She didn't survive. By now, her body has been discovered." Raymond glanced with saddened eyes across the table at his team members. The pain of the loss hung in the air.

"There was no way to save her." Ben then shifted gears, pointing to the forged documents. "With the dinner still days away, there's time for whoever hired the forger to get new passes made."

Dixon didn't comment on the death. They all knew she'd become another unsolved murder, just like all the others. "I'm sure you did what you could." Dixon studied the evidence in his hand. "At least these passes contain pictures. Should be good enough for some facial recognition software... might get a hit in the FBI, CIA or police databases. Obviously the people on the IDs plan to try and infiltrate the state dinner next week. The President is in grave danger." Setting the IDs aside, he asked, "Any idea what might be on the memory cards?"

"Probably backups of these documents," Sterling tossed out.

"If we're lucky, possibly Intel about the leader. This vamp was a good forger, and he may have given us a good chase, but he wasn't the brains behind the operation," Ben added.

Sterling pointed his gloved finger at the backpack, "I didn't sense anything off the docs or the tech stuff, but I got a reading off the backpack. The forger seemed to be a loner and did this job only for the money. He didn't know and didn't care about any bigger plan."

The team was well aware of Sterling's ability to acquire information from inanimate objects, and Raymond felt pride in his son's talent when it helped solve cases.

Dixon brushed his fingertips against the fabric of the bag. "We'll need to find out who hired this forger. I'll make sure the Director of Homeland Security gets access to these findings, including information that the assault was committed by a vampire."

"We'll provide what data we can from the tech pieces," Raymond offered. "With the forger now dead, whoever hired him may suspect that immortals took him out, since humans couldn't have dispatched him so easily. If the leader is also a vampire, they'll be taking their game up a notch when this vampire fails to show up with the passes. We'll need to be more careful."

Dixon nodded. "Right." He shifted in his seat and drained his beer.

Raymond carefully observed his old friend. "So what's bugging you tonight? I can feel your thought patterns, and I can tell you're anxious about something."

"Yeah, I've wanted to talk with you boys about something for a while now." Dixon took a deep breath. "I'm going to retire. I've pushed off retirement as much as I can, but the years are getting to me now. It's time to hand the reins over to the next director for you boys."

Raymond felt his heart skip a beat and he had to remind himself to breathe. He hated when a director retired. It was always messy with memory scrubs and the pain of trying to find a good replacement, but this felt more personal. Dixon wasn't just a director, but a friend. Raymond had been dreading this day for a long time.

"Are you sure?" Raymond asked. "I mean, we've had a lot of directors in the past, but we see you as part of our team. Are you really that old?"

"You know my age, Raymond. I'm not old, but I'm also not young anymore," he sighed. His face suddenly appeared more aged to Raymond. As Raymond looked from one team member to the next, he saw the saddened look in their eyes. This was going to be difficult for everyone.

Raymond swallowed the lump in his throat. Only the President and a handful of people knew about the COLONY and its immortal vampires who worked for the federal government. Once you left the inner circle, your memories were erased. Raymond had performed the memory wipe many times, and the process was always complete, decisive, and permanent.

"I've been reviewing possible candidates and I think I have the perfect replacement. Raymond, I'd like for the two of you to meet so I can see what you think of the Captain. How about this Friday at 8 a.m.?"

Raymond nervously nodded. "Whatever you need." He suspected Dixon wanted to talk more, but the late hour didn't afford them the opportunity. With the unspoken language most old friends seem to have, Raymond looked over at Dixon, tilted his head slightly, and lifted an eyebrow.

Raymond was happy the message was received. Dixon nodded, "Let's put everything in motion, just like we talked about." The exchange wasn't noticed by the other team members, and the response seemed cryptic enough so only Raymond understood.

"Does anyone want more to drink? I'm buying." Dixon pulled out his phone to transfer money to an account the bar owner kept.

"No. Go home, Dixon. It's late and we have a lot of work to do tomorrow." Raymond smiled at his friend as he watched him pick up the backpack and start to leave. "I hope you're happy with your decision."

Dixon completed the money transaction and put the phone back in his pocket. He then pulled a worn key off his key ring and placed the tarnished item on the table. "Make sure to lock up." He stood up from the table and walked out.

"Man. Didn't expect that," Ben said, as he slid the key over to Raymond. "But, if you two will excuse me, there's a lovely lady I stood up this evening, and I plan to make it up to her tonight"

"Ben," Raymond touched his friend's arm, "if you're talking about the secretary from this afternoon, did you notice the ring on her finger?"

"Yes, but she doesn't seem to be a fanatic about it. Plus, her husband is out of town. See you later."

Overall, the tryst wasn't any of his business, but it still bothered Raymond that the secretary was a married woman. His empty bottle indicated it was time to go.

Sterling finished his drink and walked out with his father. As Raymond locked up, Sterling announced, "See ya at home tomorrow."

"Where are you going?" Raymond asked.

"I have a date," he said, hopping into his red Ferrari.

Raymond tried to bite his tongue, but failed as usual. "With whom?"

Sterling cocked an eyebrow and a devilish smirk appeared on his face. "I don't know yet."

Raymond had to collect himself once again as he dealt with his only child. Good Lord. Did they really have to go through this same discussion nearly every night? "Sterling, I don't understand why you insist on this reckless lifestyle of dating any human that crosses your path. I can't say anything to Ben since he isn't my son, but it bothers me when you behave like this. We have blood at home, so there's no reason to go looking for your next meal."

"Blood isn't what I'm after."

"Yeah. I know." He shook his head, knowing exactly what his son was after. "A wife would be..."

Sterling cut off his father. "We're not having this conversation again, Dad."

Raymond raked his hand through his dark, thick hair. Why did his only child have to be so headstrong? "I just don't understand."

Sterling's face grew red, his jaw tightened. "Because unlike you, I don't like to sleep alone. Mom's dead. Stop loving a ghost." He then drove off, his license plate, 'LOVR4U', fading into the distance.

Alex Brennan entered her therapist's office and folded her long, lean body into her usual spot on the couch. Vanilla fragrance hung in the air from the candle on the windowsill and assaulted her nostrils, leaving a sick feeling in her stomach. She hated the smell of vanilla since the fragrance always reminded her of this room. For a distraction, she mentally reviewed her long list of things to do that seemed to never get done. A dentist appointment topped the list. Sighing, she thought how much nicer a teeth cleaning sounded. Checking her watch, she realized she'd arrived early for the session. Damn. She hated therapy, and definitely didn't want to appear eager for her sessions.

She stared at the spot on the wall where the calendar charted time. She had seen three different calendars hanging over the years and would prefer not to see a fourth one. She glanced at her watch and readied herself to hit the stopwatch feature. She was paying for 50 minutes of therapy, and she always made sure she got her full time.

Dr. Micki O'Neil entered and closed the door. Alex appreciated that Micki always arrived right on time. She dressed in her usual button down blouse and slacks at every one of these sessions, and it pleased Alex that Micki was a civilian therapist and didn't wear a military uniform. She suspected that she opened up more to the doctor when she thought of her as, perhaps, just an old friend, rather than a military officer. Micki sat in a chair adjacent to the couch. Overall, everything from the wing–backed chairs, the paisley pillows with tassels, on down to the throw rug on the floor seemed designed to give one a sense of calm in this room. Perhaps such decor worked for many people, but Alex's anxiety–wrung hands told a different story.

"Good Morning, Alex. Happy belated birthday."

Alex's eyebrow rose questioningly, but she composed herself quickly. She had given the therapist a fake birthday due to security reasons, but had forgotten until this very moment. Her birthday was weeks ago actually. She smiled at the woman. "Thanks, Micki. My birthday was earlier this week."

Micki pulled out a pen. "What age did you turn this year?"

"Thirty–eight." She was really thirty–nine.

Micki smiled at her attractive, well put–together client. "Well, you appear much younger – probably due to all the workout and training you do."

Alex felt her cheeks flush as she flashed a smile. She brushed her shoulder–length auburn hair behind her ears. "Thanks, Micki. And thanks again for meeting me so early this morning."

"No problem," Micki smiled. "Last week when we met, you seemed a bit anxious about your age and the passing of time in general. How was your birthday?" Micki thumbed through the folder she kept with the details of the years of therapy she'd conducted with Alex.

Alex cleared her throat. Growing older always worried her. She thought back to her birthday. "I'm slowly dying alone. I'm shriveling up and I'm lonely. So in every respect, my birthday remained the samee as all other days, except the day came with a Sara Lee individual, frozen, fat–free cake at the end of it." Alex's tone saddened as she played with her fingernails. She hung her head and avoided eye contact with Micki.

"Why don't you tell me a little about the day itself." Micki moved the box of Kleenex closer to her client.

"There's nothing to tell," Alex said, settling deeper into the couch. "I'm getting older, and the few men I do attract are immature boys."

"Uh huh," Micki studied her client's folder, flipping back several pages. "Alex, try to remember how far you've come," she said as she put down the folder and looked into Alex's eyes. "Only a few years ago you were afraid to even date. Not only are you going out, you have had several dates this past month alone."

Alex glanced away. The increase of dates was directly proportionate to her birthday weeks ago. "I don't think any of those guys count as real dates. In fact, one seemed more interested in my X–Box than he was in me, and believe me Micki, that isn't a euphemism."

Micki leaned in. "Alex, you chose to date those men. You said 'yes' to their invitations to dinners and movies, but then you rejected the one who wanted to have sex with you."

Alex sighed and thought back to that moment. If she had eaten breakfast, it would be coming back up right about now. Alex raised her voice in protest, "I don't want to settle. I want a real man."

Micki nodded, "You've told me in the past what a 'real man' is for you, but I'd like for you to tell me again now that you've started dating again."

Alex rolled her eyes. "I don't know," she asserted, but mentally she thought back to the man she had been dreaming about as of late. She couldn't completely make out all of his features, but the name Adonis came to mind. Her heart rate sped up just thinking about him and his dark hair, but she repeated, "I'm not sure what I'm looking for."

"Somewhere deep inside, you do know. And you also know why you went out on dates with those other men, as well."

Alex crossed her arms and looked away from Micki. "I don't want to talk about dating."

"All right, we can postpone this discussion for a few minutes. However, we still need to address your dating choices. I can't help you unless you're open and honest with me."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay. We can come back to that later." Micki picked up the folder and flipped through more pages. "Looks like over the last few years your career took off. You had two promotions... and now you're up for another one. If you get the promotion, it will make you... ?"

"'Security Chief' is the unofficial title," Alex said, giving the woman an ambiguous job description. If she did accept the promotion, she couldn't afford to allow a therapist to know exactly what she would be doing. It wasn't that she didn't trust the woman; she just didn't know her more than their therapy sessions. And even then, any personal information shared could be open to future blackmail. Even after all this time, Micki still didn't know Alex's real last name – and she always paid in cash. "I'd be responsible for the security teams that guard state officials," she added, not wanting to mention that the state official would be the President of the United States. "The position is a good career move, even if it does sound like a mountain of paperwork."

"Fair enough," Micki replied as she studied her client. "You don't need to share with me the exact details, but I do want to know how you feel about this promotion and what it means for your career?"

Alex grabbed one of the pillows from the couch and, while she played with the tassels along its edge, she reflected upon her career. If she wanted something career–wise, she got it. She had always positioned herself strategically so she could command the best opportunities that were available. "I put my career above everything else. It's what I do, but at least I can control what direction my career takes," Alex grimaced. She pulled at the strings of the tassel, carefully straightened them, and then moved to the next one in the row.

Micki wrote in the folder as she commented, "Control is very important to you."

_Isn't it to everyone?_ After a pause, Alex admitted, "At least I can get what I want."

"And how is that working out for you? Is it making you happy?" Micki asked.

"Ugh!" Alex threw the pillow aside. "My career is great, but what I really want is a passionate relationship. I want a family. Where are all the real men?" She glanced over to her therapist, "I mean, I have this unclear picture of who I want. He's perfect. He's a Mr. Butch Manly... I just can't seem to find him."

"Alex, you're a top level security specialist. Your accomplishments at this young of an age can be intimidating to some men."

"To all men, I guess." Alex said, "Except for the socially inept or the mama's boys." Alex bit her lip, looked down to the floor, and added, "Or the crazy stalker types."

"Men come in many sized packages, Alex. But it's what's on the inside that counts. A small–framed, computer nerd who loves playing games can be a wonderful catch. You need to get past the wrapping."

Alex wiped away a tear. "It's... it's not the wrapping, Micki. I never get to know a man well enough to even get to the inner layers of who they really are."

"I know, and you're doing a great job working on that. You are approaching your 40th birthday in a couple of years. The big ones tend to get people thinking about where they are in their life and what they are doing. We've had this discussion many times in the recent past, Alex. You want a passionate romance with a 'Butch Manly' type of guy, but you select men who never quite fit that bill, then you only go on one date with them. You force yourself to be emotionally flat in these relationships in an effort to protect yourself from being vulnerable." Looking at her client she asked, "It's been a long time since we discussed it, but you did just mention it. Do you want to talk about the stalker that attacked you some more?"

"Hell, no! I just wonder where all the heroes are." Alex peeked at her watch and realized 45 minutes remained.

# Eternal Service Chapter 2

The scent of freshly made coffee invited Raymond into the kitchen. His bare feet barely made a sound on the tile floor as he walked over to the long counter filled with coffeemakers. From French presses, machine drip and even percolators, he had many choices. He preferred whole beans freshly ground over the pre–ground, tasteless variety stored in cans. He considered a French Roast, but instead settled on the already made Texas Pecan flavor.

While he poured himself a cup, he noticed his sister Sulie sitting quietly at the kitchen table working a crossword puzzle. She seemed blissfully unaware of the mountain of dishes piled up in the sink, on the counter tops, and even on the stove top. Raymond checked his pocket watch. The time was after 8am, so the mess resulted from the children of the COLONY team members going off to school. Counting all the wineglasses laying about, he realized the dishes had not been done in some time – obviously the kids were not drinking wine.

"Good morning, Sulie." When she barely nodded a hello, he asked about the mess in the kitchen.

She shrugged dismissively. "We had to let the maid go."

Raymond looked over the dishes. Pregnant vampires, and children who had not reached their transitional year, ate human food. Actually, by the amount of dirty dishes, they ate a lot of food... or perhaps the maid had been gone for several days and he had not noticed.

"Let me guess," he began, "Sterling took an interest in the maid and then he compelled her to leave after she visited him upstairs in his bedroom."

"Stop," Sulie chided him. She glanced up from her crossword puzzle. "We did our best in raising him. He's a good kid."

"Hardly a kid," Raymond said. "Boy's nearly 180 years old, and still acts like he's a horny teenager."

Sulie brought her hand up to stifle her chuckle. "You need to lighten up on him. Life is hard when you don't have your mother. I did the best I could to help you raise him, but it's not the same. Besides, the maid left because of something else, _this_ time. She had been compelled a little too often to ignore empty blood bags and syringes lying about. Her mind couldn't take the memory wipes anymore. She suffered migraine headaches so I let her go."

Since the vampires received free room and board from the Government, they had also negotiated a maid with the deal. It was a smart move on their part, especially since none of them knew how to operate any household appliance more advanced than a coffeemaker.

"Regardless, Sterling is out of control. We worked late last night. Afterward, he ran off to find a date. I heard him come in a few hours ago."

Sulie looked up at her brother. Her eyes seemed a bit more tired and her face more haggard looking than normal. Her short, normally coiffed hair was unkempt. He noticed she still wore a fuzzy blue robe and house slippers. "The kids kept me up, then you woke me, then Sterling came home and the noise woke me up again."

"I'm sorry, sis." When moving into the mansion, which they called Fang Manor, Sulie had selected a bedroom on the first floor next to the kitchen. The mansion had twelve bedrooms, scattered among three different floors. The walls were thin, but surely the other bedrooms not so close to the kitchen were quieter. If any had been vacant, he'd suggest she switch bedrooms.

"Do you want some coffee?" he asked.

She stood up from the table and shuffled in her slippers to the cupboard to get out a wine goblet. She then poured blood from a medical bag into the cup. "I'm good." The back doorbell sounded. Raymond knew who the visitor was, and he arrived right on schedule.

The beeps sounded as Sulie disabled the high tech alarm system and opened the door. "Hey, Karl. Nice to see you. We've had a busy day today at the hospital," she suggested, looking into his eyes and compelling him to see the images she laid out for him.

His expression instantly changed and his eyes became distant. "Hello, Dr. Smith. I have this week's supply of blood for the hospital. Can you please sign here?"

"Gladly, Karl," she said, taking the clipboard. "Please bring in the blood. You know where we keep it." Karl obeyed, wheeling in carts of blood for the mansion, or as it was classified by the government, "COLONY Private Military Hospital."

"Kind of early for wine this time of the day, isn't it?" Karl asked.

"I'm coming off the night shift, Karl. This is my nightcap."

"Ah, well, I can understand late night hours. I used to work them myself for a while." He busied himself with storing the blood in the walk–in cooler.

"She'd offer you a glass, Karl," Raymond began, "but trust me. You wouldn't like this vintage."

Alex stepped into the office belonging to Matt Emerson and Brandon Wyatt. She had worked very little with the pair, but they were always good for comedic relief in an otherwise routine afternoon.

Matt stood the taller of the two, a lengthy six–foot–five. He wore Burlington store–brand suits, not designer or even tailor fit ones. Overall, he always appeared clean and pressed, even if the quality seemed a bit off. Today he wore a single–breasted suit, light gray in color. The pink tie threw off the assemble, but matched in an odd way. About eighty percent of the time, Matt acted as rock solid as any other agent. That is, when his sidekick, Brandon, didn't pull him down some rabbit hole looking for a white rabbit, or more likely, a white _alien_ rabbit.

Alex gazed over at Brandon, who still had not noticed her enter the room. He kept himself busy by listening to his chest with a stethoscope. Man, she really didn't want to ask about that one. Brandon was probably doing his best to confirm that an alien had probed him during lunch or something – which was not a conversation she wanted to listen to. When he turned to face her, Alex noticed that Brandon could take fashion lessons from Matt. Brandon's black suit jacket didn't match his dark navy blue pants, not even in the dim light of the office. Of course, who would notice such a horrid combination with the fluorescent green tie the man wore?

"Hello, Captain," Matt said while standing up. "Is there something we can help you with?"

Alex noted that Brandon stopped the personal medical exam when Matt asked his question, and also stood. If she did get the promotion, these two would report indirectly to her. A scary thought indeed. But then again, she'd love to read Brandon's personal file. He had to be an idiot savant, a member of Mensa, or at least suffer from Einstein Syndrome. He acted too quirky just to be an idiot. "Here, I brought you the files of the new kitchen hires. I need security checks done on all of them."

"Sure. We can get right to work, Captain," Matt said with a smile.

She observed Brandon give Matt a look. The glance was like he was checking to see if he should say something. Whether Matt agreed or not, Brandon blurted out, "Have you heard anything about a second security team?"

"What do you mean by a second team?" she asked.

Brandon took a deep breath. "For some time now, we have felt..."

"You. _You_ have felt," Matt corrected.

The correction was met with a stern glare from Brandon. " _I_ have felt that there might be a secondary team who..."

Alex had heard that Brandon could be a bit paranoid, but to see it up close was very off–putting. This little ditty smacked of the same paranoia that last week's 'lizard men live in our sewers' did. She allowed Brandon to prattle on for a few minutes, but then had to stop him. "Riddle me this, Batman. What would be the point in having two teams do the same job? To waste taxpayer money? To ensure redundancy in case the first team proves to be incompetent?" she asked.

"You're in denial," was his answer.

Alex needed to get back to real work. She watched as Brandon reached for the folder she had placed on Matt's desk; his face twinged as though in pain.

"Captain, did I give you a security file yesterday regarding some broken glass found near the Beast?" Brandon asked before she could leave the room. Again, his face cringed in pain.

She turned to face the man. Taking a deep breath, she said, "No. I don't recall any such file. What glass near the President's limo?" she asked¸ worried that leprechauns might be involved in this story.

Brandon rubbed his temple. "I can't find the file. Matt said I went to Dixon's office and gave it to him, but I can't remember."

Alex took a step closer into the room. "If there is a file missing..."

Matt cut her off. "He gave the file to Dixon. I saw him walk the paperwork down to Dixon's office. Everything is fine." He tossed Brandon a bottle of Advil from his desk. "He's been suffering from headaches lately. I think they're affecting his memory."

"Probably a tumor from mind control," Brandon said, reaching for some bottled water to down the pills. He took a sip, tilted back his head, and took the medicine. He then quickly added, "Oh, on an internal channel last night I overheard something."

"Internal to the White House?" Alex asked.

Matt shook his head slightly, but Brandon continued. "Someone was playing World of Warcraft last night. I swear the noise sounded like it was coming from the Oval Office."

She studied Brandon for a moment before she left the office. There is a thin line between crazy and brilliant. She could guess which side of the line Brandon straddled.

# Eternal Service Chapter 3

Raymond and his son Sterling arrived at FBI headquarters to check on some domestic terrorist suspects. The federal government received hundreds of threats monthly endangering the lives of military and political leaders; they also received many bomb threats on historic buildings. Sterling usually came by the headquarters, but today's threat was from a man in a case that Raymond had been working on. A case that was practically tied up with just this one loose end.

Everything from the humans' microwave lunches, the stale recirculated air in the building, to the blood coursing through the humans' veins hit their nostrils the second the two vampires entered. This building was part of the human team's turf and Raymond knew Sterling hated coming here. It wasn't that Sterling didn't like humans; Raymond knew far too well that Sterling liked one of their genders considerably. He suspected Sterling's hatred for the place was that he didn't like smelling human food and spending time with the lowest of the low in the human gene pool. At least that was why Raymond avoided it. This building tended to have the worst scum imaginable.

Using an alias, Sterling flashed his presidential badge at the security desk. He dressed in a suit and looked like any FBI or CIA operative in the place. Raymond knew his son hated wearing a suit and a tie. The material always felt itchy against his skin, and gloves always seemed odd with a suit. Sterling had no choice, though; the gloves protected him from flashing on every object he touched thanks to his special ability.

As they approached the security station, the guard requested that they sign their names and then walk past the security scanner.

"Disable the metal detector," Raymond compelled. The guard obeyed and turned off the unit. They passed through with his personal armory of weapons. No alarm sounded.

It wasn't long before a lieutenant named Gallendar came to collect them from the front desk. He led them towards the interrogation rooms. "We picked up a Mr. Raul Medina this morning for a substantial threat to the Pentagon. We also have two others, one of which may have been working with Medina."

"Medina was the mole we had. But he turned bad, just like the rest of them," Raymond explained to his son in the vampire high–pitched voice that humans could not hear.

"Let's start with Medina," Sterling suggested to the lieutenant.

The door to the room opened. Sitting in the center of the room was a heavily tattooed man with bulging muscles and a sneer on his face. Actually, the word "Godfather" came to mind when Raymond looked at him. Across from Medina sat two CIA agents. "Leave," Raymond commanded. The agents and Lt. Gallendar obeyed the simple command, closing the door behind them.

As soon as the vampires entered the room, they knew they were dealing with a human. Vampires rarely got this far inside an interrogation room. They would never allow themselves to be held by humans and would normally compel their way out of any situation. Of course, it all depended on the suspect's evil agenda.

"Yo, you and I are going to talk," Sterling said to the thug.

"Fuck you, pretty boy!"

"Now that's not a nice way to greet someone," Raymond said.

Medina spit his reply.

"Your attitude is only going to piss me off. Trust me; I can eat thugs like you for breakfast. I really can." With his gloved hands, Sterling grabbed Medina's head and forced him to stare into his eyes. "You are going to cooperate with me and these agents. Do you understand?"

Medina's skin paled and his eyes went dim. _"I understand."_

"You'll answer every single question they ask of you."

_"Answer questions."_

Sterling removed his gloves and touched the man's clothing. Next he compelled the man to remove any jewelry, and he began touching that, as well. Finally, he touched the man's skin. Raymond watched. He had seen his son in action many times, and was proud of how he used his ability – especially since Sterling's skin would become itchy, and migraines usually formed soon afterwards.

Sterling sat back down and put on his gloves. "I got security codes, dates and names," he said to his father in a matter–of–fact tone. He glanced back at Medina. "You're also not going to leer at any female guards while you are in custody. You will treat them with respect."

Raymond rolled his eyes. Leave it to Sterling to be the champion of the damsels in distress.

"No leering. Respect only," Sterling said. "And I want to hear some 'please' and 'thank yous' from now on. Use your manners,"

_"Manners,"_ Medina meekly said.

"You'll volunteer all information about any prior crimes you committed to these agents," Sterling said with a smile.

_"Crimes."_

"And you'll rat your buddies out on their crimes." Sterling added.

Raymond jumped in, "If any innocent lives are in jeopardy by you doing this, you will tell the guards immediately."

_"Rat out buddies. Save innocent lives."_

Sterling shrugged his shoulders in response to his father's input. "That's a good boy." Sterling said to the thug, handing him a tissue. "Clean that up!" He pointed out where he had spat on the floor. Sterling then opened the door to let the two detectives in. Next, Raymond, Sterling and Lt. Gallendar went to the next of the three rooms to have similar conversations with the other two men in custody.

# Eternal Service Chapter 4

Friday morning arrived quicker than expected. Raymond looked over at the alarm clock which would go off any minute now. He stretched to wake up his muscles, and then his phone chirped at him. He knew who the text came from.

He partially sat up in bed and reached for the phone. Suddenly his palms became sweaty as he held it, and his heart began to race. The message was from exactly who he thought it would be from, the Vampire Council. Last night, after he'd told Sulie about Dixon's retirement, she'd begged Raymond to make a request to the Council to have Dixon turned. She need not have bothered with her plea; he planned to make the request on Dixon's behalf anyway. Being turned was what the man wanted. Raymond held his breath as he opened the message.

"No."

No other explanation was given. Nothing else but the one word.

"Christ!" Raymond threw the phone back onto the nightstand. He lay in bed for a few minutes, mad at the Council, but also rethinking in his mind how to break the news to Dixon.

The alarm clock sounded and brought him out of his concentration. The answer was what it was; with nothing else to be done. He hit snooze on the alarm to give himself a few more minutes to think of anything else other than Dixon.

He heard the house come alive with activity, even from his bedroom on the third floor. The snooze was hit two more times before he finally rubbed his eyes, awakened, and decided to start the day. He looked at the wall across from his bed where a small portrait of his wife hung. He had commissioned an artist to paint it well after Wilma had died, using Sterling's adult face and Raymond's description of his late wife as a guide. The result wasn't an exact image, but reasonably close. When he first saw the completed artwork, he was disappointed that the artist couldn't quite capture Wilma's true beauty on the canvas. Now, after all these years, the image on the wall was what Wilma looked like to him. He smiled at the portrait and murmured, "Good morning, Wilma."

With dread, Raymond removed himself from his bed and donned his robe to cover his nude body. Like all the occupants of the house, Raymond's bedroom had a small refrigerator. He kept his morning breakfast of bagged blood chilled. Other than a couple of syringes laying next to the bag, the fridge was empty.

He filled the syringes and placed his breakfast in a warm water bath. He loved the little device. Its main purpose was to warm cold baby bottles, but the device warmed up blood in syringes very quickly — and to the right temperature.

He stretched to wake up and heard the timer on the warmer beep. He reached for his breakfast, and slowly injected the contents of the first syringe into his arm. The warm sensation tingled as the blood traveled up his forearm. His eyes closed and he concentrated on the feeling of fresh blood once again running through his veins. His mouth slightly opened and his fangs extended. His heart raced and his body surged with energy.

Raymond had fed himself this way for decades — ever since bagged blood became easy to transport and use in hospitals. The feeding was quick but felt nothing like the real thing. For Raymond, feeding off a fresh vein and feeling the flesh against his fangs was a foregone delight. He didn't wish to be near a human woman, and definitely didn't want to feed off a male of the species. The only human woman he wanted to feed from was dead. And even when he had had his wife at his side, he was too young to partake since his fangs hadn't come in yet.

He took the second of the two syringes and slowly injected it into the same arm where the first crimson delight had traveled. His heart rate sped up and his body renewed itself. Cells were regenerated. The few gray hairs he had turned back to their dark brunette color, the slight wrinkles around his eyes ironed themselves out, and his skin glowed with the healthiness of youth. Each drop was a taste from the fountain of youth. Raymond aged back from his mid–thirties to his early twenties — nowhere near the 199 years he had actually lived.

Raymond concentrated on the feeling of the blood. His body became replete and he felt alive and new. Now, bloodlust set in. Sometimes he hated being a vampire.

His body responded, yearning for a woman's touch. Wilma had died ages ago in childbirth and there was no other woman he craved. His length hardened and demanded attention. He wanted to ignore his arousal, but the bloodlust insisted he satisfy his manly urges. Thirst overcame him as well and he felt his fangs extend. Now two of his body parts wanted a woman, and he was alone – all alone.

More blood sat in the fridge, but he dare not indulge himself. More blood in his body would keep him sexed up all day. It would just add more fuel to the fire once the lust came to him. Christ. He didn't need that. He licked his lips; his tongue brushing against his fangs. He had never partaken of Wilma's blood during their brief year together since it was before he had transitioned into an adult vampire. He craved her touch, and now her blood. God. Drinking her blood and making love to her at the same time was a joy stolen from him long ago.

The Vampire Council, with all of their antiquated laws, managed to do one thing right. Forbidding love between humans and vampires resonated soundly within him. The folly of it all. Humans were weak and frail. Of course, Wilma was an angel that had touched his soul like no other woman had. How could he not fall in love with such a creature? The year he spent with her as her husband had been the best year of his life. She had also given him a son as she died in his arms — a beautiful son who looked just like her. If he had only turned her before he impregnated her, she'd still be with him. If only.

He pushed the images of Wilma's death aside and thought of her as she was in life. So warm, so giving, so sexy. Sitting down and reclining on his bed, Raymond reached between his thighs and parted the robe down the sides of his hips. With the beautiful image of his wife in his head, he focused on nothing else but her. In his mind's eye, he saw her naked on their marriage bed, her arms calling out to him. Touching himself, and remembering his cherished past, he made love to her.

# United Service Chapter 1

### UNITED SERVICECOLONY Series, Novel #2

**"UNITED SERVICE" COLONY Series, Novel #2 Chapter One**

Gentle rain drizzled on Sterling's nude body like healing kisses, renewing his sense of self–peace. His headache had subsided a little, but in truth, the ache always persisted. The pain was just more manageable now. Sterling reclined on the patio chair, his body dwarfing the size of the furniture as he stretched to wake up in his solitude. His skin chafed against the chair, feeling slightly sunburned. He opened his eyes to a cloudless sky and cursed as the sun blinded him . . . No more relief would come today.

As a half–breed vampire, he didn't have the protective inner eyelids the purebreds had, so he closed his eyes against the sun. He thought of the day's schedule. He knew he would spend most of his time down at the penitentiary. He groaned because every time he visited the place, his body ached. It wasn't being around humans that did him in, but rather, the physical touching of evidence. His ability to get information from inanimate objects proved helpful in solving cases, and he was happy to help. But his body always paid the price, and he detested the side effects.

Sterling's touch would tell him everything he needed to know about the item's owner, what it was used for, and the feelings and emotions surrounding the item. Each touch would make his skin crawl and itch, and the more he touched, the more his skin would scream in agony. After a few hours, his head would pound with a migraine.

But the pain meant nothing; it was just one more damn thing about his human half he had to deal with. Most vampire abilities had good side effects, but it was just his lot in life to be cursed. Fortunately though, his ability did allow him to bring some of the sickest and most depraved criminals to trial, and that was the justification he needed to keep living his lonely life.

He squinted at the sun again as he reached for his sunglasses on the ground beside him, and sat up. The private sleeping porch of the mansion, which the residents jokingly called Fang Manor, was his little oasis, and his alone. No one would disturb him while he healed and sat in solitude.

Solitude and loneliness were only separated by a thin line. A very thin line — and he knew the feeling all too well.

Sterling inhaled deeply, taking in the crisp morning air. He heard the chirping of the songbirds nearby and the wind chime down below swaying in the breeze. Cursing softly, he realized he could also hear his father with his new wife stirring in their bedroom, next to his sundeck.

It was time to get up. The mansion's walls weren't soundproof, and he now tried to block out a conversation that had changed into more intimate noises. _"Newlyweds,"_ he thought as he rolled his eyes. No way was he listening to an encore of last night. There wasn't anything Oedipal in his distaste of the noise; it just reminded him how powerless he was to find a wife of his own. He had failed to secure an arranged marriage, and his own attempts to find a purebred vampire mate had proved unsuccessful, many times over.

He stood, scooped up rain pooled on the chair beside him, and splashed it on his face. Shaking the water from his shoulder length hair, he moaned contently at the soothing touch. He knew this moment would be the last time he would feel good all day.

Checking his rain catchers, he poured the collected rain into bottles to be used later. Sterling then walked through the few puddles of rainwater that sat on the stone floor of the deck. He opened the glass door and entered his private bedroom. He had chosen the decor himself. The cherry wood king–sized bed with matching nightstand and dresser filled the room. A hunter green duvet, with burgundy and gold pillows, in various sizes and shapes, were at the head and foot of the bed. An old gold cross, which he had inherited from his human grandmother, hung on the wall above the bed. As pleasant as the room was, and even though this house had been his home for too many decades to count, Sterling spent little time here.

He lived here with his father, stepmother, aunt, and several team members, making up the COLONY, a special operative team of vampires employed by the federal government to protect the President and the American way of life. Sterling was one of the founding members of the COLONY, which had been established in 1866, after the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln. It was really the only life Sterling knew. The job had benefits and perks, but also pitfalls. But what job didn't?

Sterling glanced around the room. It was a gilded cage with free room and board, paid for by Uncle Sam. Sure, he loved his family, and Fang Manor was a far cry from slumming it, but because of security measures he could never entertain guests at the place. A wife could live here with him, if he had one. A girlfriend? Hell, he never dated a woman longer than, well, an hour tops. And even then, the women were humans.

Speaking of human females, he was hungry, and there wasn't one in his bed at the moment. This is exactly why he kept an apartment in the city.

Damn. His fangs were already extended, expecting to eat. It was time for plan B. He shook his head as he walked across the room. Next to the air purifier on the floor sat a small personal refrigerator. He opened it and pulled out a bag of AB negative blood. Bagged blood. Not his favorite, but at least the food was free. He poured some into a mug and warmed it in the microwave that sat atop the refrigerator. It took only a minute for him to down it all after the microwave beeped. There was no reason to savor bagged blood. Honestly, no reason at all. The packaging, for starters, was all wrong.

The dried rain still clung to his skin. Not wanting to wash it off, he skipped a shower. In his private bathroom, he stared at his blurred reflection in the mirror. One corner of his mouth turned up in a half grin, as his reflection reminded him of the vampire lore that Hollywood messed up in their movies. Hollywood did get the mirror reflection right though. Thanks to the silver in mirrors, and even the silver used in old–fashioned photography, vampire images were always obscured.

As he brushed his shoulder length dirty–blond hair, he studied himself in the mirror. He'd spent time last night in the mansion's private gym lifting weights with his father. Sterling's muscular physique was well formed, and even the poor reflection showed his ripped muscles. He took great pride in this lure since it worked so well where human women were concerned.

He paused and leaned into the mirror. Was that a gray hair? Yep, but only one. Next, he studied his eyes. Wrinkles had formed overnight as well. Looking down at his medallion of the Patron Saint of Rain, Genevieve, he noticed a gray chest hair. Guessing his age was now in the mid–thirties he continued to brush his hair as he waited for the effects of his breakfast on his body.

The wait wasn't long. He felt the warmed blood course through his veins and his cells began to regenerate. His hair gained more color, his wrinkles ironed themselves out, and he could tell he had a healthier glow about him. He took a deep breath and glanced back in the mirror. His fuzzy reflection showed him at the age of twenty–seven again. It was his age during his Jahrling Year, when he transitioned into a full vampire and his fangs had extended to their full size to allow him to eat a blood–only diet. His fangs came in late because he was a half–breed. If he had been a purebred vampire, he could look as young as the age when most humans got their wisdom teeth, their early twenties. It was just one more thing to thank his long dead mother for, not that he'd ever had a chance to meet her.

The bloodlust from his morning's breakfast finally hit him. The sensation would have come quicker if he had injected the blood directly into his veins. By orally consuming it, his spleen had to process the blood from his digestive system to his circulatory system, which took time. The first drops of blood acted as a fountain of youth, then the blood eventually affected other areas of his body like liquid Viagra. With no woman to satisfy him, he ignored his aroused state and decided to dress. Besides, feeling miserable was the norm. It didn't bother him to remain uncomfortable.

He opened the top drawer of his dresser and pulled out a pair of socks and underwear. From the middle drawer, he pulled out a set of skin coverings. They resembled long johns but were made from a light cotton fabric. They covered him from neck to ankles and prevented most of everything from touching him. They weren't a great fashion statement, but they worked well. He walked to his closet for a pair of jeans and a shirt.

He had just finished dressing when his cell phone buzzed. It was another COLONY member, Daniel, who was working downtown, and the one vampire in the world Sterling avoided as much as possible.

The phone rang again, and Sterling stared at it with a grimace on his face. When it rang a third time, he answered it. "Yes, what?" Sterling huffed.

_"Good morning to you too, mate,"_ Daniel said in a slightly faded British accent. _"I'm with the police looking into a bloody murder, quite literally. I think you ought to see this."_

Sterling cursed under his breath. Miss Manners never covered the social protocol of how to behave when dealing with a man you murdered in cold blood, and then had turned into a vampire against his will.

Sterling could understand the need to exact revenge, but Daniel had forgiven him for what he had done. On top of that, Daniel was nice to him, which made no sense to Sterling. He gritted his teeth, "Text me the address."

# United Service Chapter 2

Sterling jumped into his Ferrari and punched the address Daniel had texted him into its GPS system. As he drove, the intensity of the itchy sensation on his skin grew. He blamed the irritation on heavy smog as he got closer to the city, as well as mold, cedar and other allergens that were probably high this time of year. Right now any areas not hidden by his skin covering and gloves itched, mostly his face and neck. He could live with that. His headache remained mild, so he was in good shape to start his day.

The GPS system guided him to a beautiful two–story home. The red brick house resembled something from a Norman Rockwell painting. It resided in a little neighborhood tucked away from the busy streets by a tall grove of trees. The house even had a white picket fence.

Police cars lined the streets, which told Sterling the forensics team remained inside. Sterling parked his car on a side street and walked up to the officer guarding the entrance to the home. Judging by the man's jacket, he worked on the homicide squad. Sterling wasn't surprised, considering the smell of blood that was in the air. The officer seemed young, and human – so not a problem. Sterling looked the man in the eye. "You are going to let me pass." The man stepped aside, and even apologized for being in Sterling's way.

The early morning sunlight shined through the windows and glass sections in the front door. It lit up the downstairs foyer as Sterling walked in, causing his shadow to stretch across the marble entryway. Blood stained the floor of the home. The red spatter ran from the front door all the way up the staircase, marking the white carpet on each step. Sterling placed his feet carefully outside the dark red trail as he walked further into the home, removing his sunglasses once he was safely inside.

The forensics team kept busy by bagging, swiping and collecting the evidence. The humans were too busy to notice Sterling as he searched the downstairs for Daniel. Not finding him on the ground floor, Sterling walked up the huge, slightly winding staircase. He found Daniel on the second floor in one of the bedrooms. "I'm here. What do you need to show me?" he asked Daniel and then looked away. He rarely made eye contact with the vamp he had murdered and turned, and today, was no different.

The blue–painted room seemed like it was for a young boy. The double bed, the computer and backpack in the corner told Sterling the boy was no longer a toddler. He walked over to the nightstand and opened a small plastic case that contained a retainer. He set the case down and touched other objects on the table – an mp3 player, a headset and a LEGO toy.

Daniel stood over the bed studying a bloodstain. "Right. Thanks for coming by," said the gray haired vampire, who appeared to be in his mid–sixties. "What I need to show you is in the master chamber." He led Sterling from the tiny room and down a long hallway to the master bedroom. "This house is owned by a Ms. Lenora Miller. She lived here alone with her son, Stephen, who is ten years old. I don't know where the boy is, but I think I found what's left of his mother."

They entered the master bedroom where Sterling noticed a uniformed officer. "Sterling, this is Captain Travis. He's with the crime scene search unit. He's the one that alerted me about this case," Daniel said.

The officer wore his dress blues, and they were crisp and sharp. Even his badge was polished. Judging by the man's salt–and–pepper hair, Sterling guessed the man to be in his mid–fifties. Taking a good look at the officer, Sterling felt a slight tingle on his skin. He could tell the officer was a vampire, one of the many who hid among humans and lived their lives in secrecy. His appearance now made sense to Sterling. Everything in tip–top shape, nothing out of place, and nothing to notice about the man. He probably dotted every 'i' and crossed every 't'. It was a perfect camouflage in a crowded world. Blend in and don't be noticed.

Captain Travis glanced from Daniel to Sterling, and then recognition shone in his eyes. It was a look Sterling knew too well as a half–breed. Sterling gave off no predator threat and appeared to most vampires as human. The only telltale sign to Sterling's lineage was that he had no body warmth, nor did he reek of human food and body odor.

"Sterling's a good bloke, I've worked with him for years," Daniel said, offering the officer no other credentials for Sterling.

Travis' muscles relaxed as he nodded toward Sterling. "Personal diary, phone, and laptop," Travis said, handing a box to Daniel. "We'll need them as evidence, but you should scan them first for any delicate information before the humans review them." Travis picked up his field–testing kit and walked to the door to leave the room. "Just make sure I get everything back once you've scrubbed it down."

Once they were alone, Daniel set the box down near the bed. The bed was unmade, with the sheets rumpled and hanging to the floor. A thick chain was wrapped around the bed and through the frame itself, held in place by padlocks. The chains were slack, as if they had once held something down, but that something was no longer there to hold the chains taut. A small layer of dust lay on top of the heavily stained fitted sheet.

Daniel pointed towards the center of the bed. "Forensics already collected her dust, but they had no idea it was her remains. I already removed it from evidence and erased them from the records." As Sterling's ungloved hands approached the chains, Daniel warned, "Those chains are silver. Don't touch them."

Noticing Daniel's burned hand, Sterling touched the bed frame and ran his hands along the sheets. His hands grew warm. They tingled as he closed his eyes. Visions of Lenora's life, who she was, what her dreams were, they all appeared to him. Lenora was her real name, but not Miller. Stephen was her son, but she had another child who was already an adult. He touched the pillow where Lenora's tears had fallen and the images Sterling saw in his mind grew darker.

The man had surprised her as she was about to drift off to sleep, and had snuck up to the bed before she had even detected his presence. His eyes were wild, and his long bangs had dipped well below his brow, which had given him the appearance of a madman. The chains were already put across her chest, burning her flesh, before she had even cried out to her attacker to spare her son's life. Sterling watched through Lenora's eyes as a knife was lifted and a phrase in Latin was uttered. He felt her fear, and it caused his body to shiver. She had known she would die right here today, in this bed, at her attacker's hands.

Sterling read more about Lenora's long life and guessed her age to be about one hundred and fifty years old. It was common for vampires to live among humans. It was rather easy to do. They would move to a new neighborhood and feed often to appear in their twenties. Overtime, they would feed less often and age gracefully. A vampire could live in the same place for roughly seventy years at a time, adjusting their age accordingly. They would then fake their death and move on. Sterling could tell Lenora had done this often. She was slightly younger than Sterling himself.

"This knife was found in the center of the bed next to the chains." Daniel held up a dagger stored in a protective plastic evidence bag. "The stain on the knife is not human blood."

Sterling blinked a few times to remove the visions from his mind. He focused his eyes on the knife and the blackened stain. His skin itched as though bitten by dozens of fire ants, and he had only touched the bed sheets. He learned years ago not to scratch because that only made it worse. Instead of scratching, he took the bag from Daniel and studied it. The purple blood was from a vampire and it belonged to Lenora. She had been staked with this knife as she lay helpless on the bed, chained up like an animal with silver chains that surely had burned her skin. "The knife has writing on it," Sterling noticed.

"Yes. But bugger if I could read it," Daniel said.

"It's Latin. It reads, 'Instrument of the Lord'." Sterling opened the plastic bag and touched the knife. His fingers instantly heated at the touch. Images, evil images, slammed into his head like a freight train crashing through a shopping mall. His breath caught and a tear escaped as he closed his eyes and watched the horrific images flash by. He saw as the man stabbed Lenora, and he felt the man's joy as she bled out and turned to dust. Sterling's hand shook and he dropped the knife.

He blinked a few times and then cleared his throat. "The knife is one of dozens. It belongs to a group who call themselves, The Hands of God." He placed the knife back in the bag and sealed it. "They believe that they perform the acts God needs them to do."

Sterling could still feel the twisted mind of the religious zealot who had plunged a dagger into another living being. The murderer had felt righteous in the killing and had felt no remorse. It wasn't the first kill he had done, either. The images that had flooded Sterling's mind now caused his headache to pound.

"These religious freaks know about vampires," he cursed. "They took Stephen to save him." Sterling turned to face at Daniel. "You said the boy is ten?"

"Right. About that age," Daniel answered as he picked up the box of Lenora's personal belongings. "We'll have to check with your father about the family line, but I'm guessing the boy is about halfway to his Jahrling Year." Daniel paused and then said in a hushed voice, "Unless, of course..."

Sterling's eyebrow rose as he noticed the pause. "What?"

Daniel cleared his throat and then asked quietly, "Could the boy be a half–breed?"

Sterling hated when people walked on eggshells regarding the subject of half–breeds, saying it in whispers as humans would say 'cancer'. "Lenora was a purebred vampire," Sterling assured him.

"What about Stephen's father?" Daniel pressed.

Sterling shook his head. "The father couldn't have been human. Must have been a purebred or turned vampire."

"What about a half–breed father?"

Sterling shrugged. "Maybe. But, the boy would be a purebred regardless."

Daniel surveyed around the room. "There's nothing around that tells you anything about the lineage?"

Sterling's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. "It's not like we half–breeds wear badges," Sterling sternly said, now looking at Daniel. He took a few steps towards the door shaking his head. "If I had to guess, I'd say the boy is a purebred." Sterling wanted to believe that, at least. He didn't want to think other half–breeds had better luck with the female vamps than he had experienced.

Giving a nod to the staircase in the hallway, Sterling commented, "When I got here, I walked the rooms downstairs. Kitchen cabinets are filled with food. There's a first aid kit in the bathroom." Sterling took a deep breath, "The boy is as weak as a human right now. An easy target. And the man who murdered his mother took him so God could save him. Or so he believes."

Daniel grimaced. "Then there's no tellin' if the lad is still alive?"

Sterling thought back to the blood on the floor downstairs. It wasn't enough blood loss to kill a vampire, nor a human. The blood staining the floor was crimson and belonged to Stephen, suggesting that the boy was most likely still alive and had been dragged from his bed out the front door. "They stabbed the boy to confirm he was human by his red blood. They knew the blood would be purple if he had already transitioned."

Sterling touched more objects in the master bedroom, in Stephen's room, and around the house. He didn't get much more information. His abilities' side effects just grew more intense. Now even his feet itched. He hated that.

"Thanks for the help, Sterling. I'll work with your father to contact the vampire family and let them know what happened. As you said, she has one more child and she'll want to know what's become of her mother and younger sibling." He raked his hand through his gray hair. "Bloody, hell. Not the conversation you ever want to have, eh Sterling?"

When Sterling moaned and touched his temple, Daniel added, "Right then. Off with you. I'll compel and clean up with the humans."

Leave it to Daniel to be so thoughtful when it came to Sterling's affliction. The vampire was too sticky sweet and nice for Sterling's tastes.

Sterling nodded and left the house feeling, once again, bad for Daniel's turn.

Sterling drove off in his Ferrari to find the remedy that would relieve the pain of his cursed skin. The sky was cloudless with no chance of rain, so he'd have to find female companionship. Other than rain, the touch of a woman caressing his skin was the only other cure to erase the itching. He just needed to find a woman that met a stringent criterion – her touch must be freely given, not forced by a lie or a compulsion. He couldn't pay her to touch him, and she had to be in a good frame of mind and of consenting age. Supermarkets, offices, homes... it was like the old saying, 'water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink'. He thought he'd hit up the university nearby to try and find a woman. Maybe he'd get lucky.

His headache worsened as he heard the thoughts of Lenora's attacker repeating over and over in his mind. The bloody images tortured him as he mentally watched Lenora die her painful death. Sterling fought to stay focused and managed to drive over to the community college. He cruised down the two main streets of the campus until he found the antidote for his curse.

She stood in front of a bookstore watching him as he drove up to the curb. Her long blond hair reflected the sun and she was pure beauty bound in a size six, twenty–year–old body. She smiled at Sterling and revealed the flatness of her non–vampire teeth, which always reminded Sterling that he was settling. The thought saddened him, but he took a deep breath and smiled back, careful to hide his fangs.

"I love the car," she said as she approached his convertible.

Of course, she did. That's why he drove such a decadent gas–guzzler. It was a snare to trap women, and it worked well. "You want a ride?" he asked.

She leaned into the car and showed him her cleavage, obviously her choice of lures. "Where to?"

He wasn't interested in what she had, only in how she could cure him. "My apartment is nearby."

# United Service Chapter 3

Sterling arrived on time to the penitentiary so the warden could show him into the interrogation cell. The two walked down a hallway filled with 'hats and bats', which is what the prisoners referred to as fully protected guards. The cells in this section were the highest security, and it had the locked doors and the cameras to prove it.

Standing in the doorway to one of the cells, Sterling watched as two federal agents were questioning a third man in the room. The two seemed standard–issue, from the suits they wore, to the coffee cups they held – right down to the haircuts they sported. They were in the middle of a classic 'good cop, bad cop' scenario, and it wasn't working. But, it rarely did work when interrogating a serial killer.

The prisoner sat across from the agents. He looked indifferent as he stared past the agents, not making eye contact as they spoke to him, as if he were too important to care about their questions and idle threats. The man was well above average height and size, with greasy hair and a foul human body odor. With the exception of a scar that ran down his face, he looked like any other thug that had sat at this table. He swore at the agents and refused to talk about the new crimes that were now being linked back to him.

Sterling had played out this scene so many times over the past decades, each prisoner the same as the last. They were all arrogant, disrespectful lowlifes who were the worst humanity had to offer. Sterling hated spending any time with them, but the information he gathered from the lowlifes was vital in the cases he worked.

He entered the room, leaving the warden in the hallway. The two agents stopped their song and dance routine, which obviously wasn't getting them anywhere, and asked who Sterling was. Noting the cell camera was recording every move in the room, and every word, he simply said, "Agents, please leave." The humans' eyes grew dim and their skin paled. They both got up and retreated from the room, leaving Sterling alone with the uncooperative man.

Sterling closed the door and stared at the man who sat in the metal chair wearing handcuffs, leg irons and waist chains, plus security boxes to cover the restraints' keyholes. The man tested the restraints as Sterling took a seat across from him. Sterling made sure not to face the camera full on.

A case file with the name Max Watson sat on the table. Sterling held it up and coldly said, "You're going for a stainless steel ride, my man."

The man looked past Sterling. "Unless you're here to release me, get the fuck out."

"You murdered six women. And we know of at least five more." When the man glanced up and made brief eye contact, Sterling added, "Oh yes. We found where you hid the...," he opened the file and read, "... hammer, shovel... even a knife and souvenirs from your victims." He chuckled as he set the opened folder down, "Boy, you really are a dumbass to store it all in one place for us to find."

The man sneered. "I doubt you'll find any evidence pointing back to me. I'm just a misunderstood individual who is wrongly incarcerated."

"I wouldn't care even if you had the evidence floating in a vat of bleach, we'd still nail your ass to the wall on this." Sterling glanced down at the opened file. "You took great pride in your treasures. You preserved them very well." All evidence had been stored in a footlocker, nice and tidy. "You probably even folded the clothes you kept from the victims."

The human's eyes narrowed in on Sterling. "I'm not afraid of death."

"Maybe not by lethal injection," Sterling corrected. He leaned in and pointed to the man's orange jumpsuit. "But I know I could get you shitting in those peels and begging for death."

"Fuck you!"

Sterling winked at the man. "Save the sweet talk for your cell mate."

The human's jaw grew tight and again he tested the chains. Before he could reply, Sterling added, "They never found the bodies of your victims. That's the only thing keeping you alive. But, before I leave today, you _will_ tell me everything."

Sterling stared at the man, enough so that he looked up and locked his eyes on Sterling's. Making sure he didn't face the camera, Sterling compelled the man. "You'll tell me the locations of your victims' bodies and you will answer all of our questions. Now be quiet while I catch up on your case."

The man's expression paled and he sat motionless in his chair.

All in all, the man was a serial killer, already convicted of six murders. But this folder contained new evidence. It had a picture of five more women the FBI suspected that he had murdered, and the authorities suspected there were even more. Sterling flipped through the case file which contained a much more detailed account of what the man had stored as souvenirs.

Sterling placed the pictures of the five women across the table. "If you killed these five women, you will confess and tell the authorities where they are buried."

The suspect stared right at Sterling and said. "Ten more women total. I will tell them where nine are buried."

Sterling could not have heard that correctly. "What do you mean 'ten women'?"

"I killed ten more women, you only know about five. Nine are buried at construction sites in Maryland. Plopped right down in wet concrete."

As bad as the cement coffins sounded, Sterling was more interested in the tenth victim. Could there possibly be a survivor out there? Some poor woman barely clinging onto life? "What happened to the tenth woman?" he demanded.

The man shook his head. "Not sure. She was the last one I killed and she disappeared when I stabbed her. Poof!" He made a gesture with his hands.

Sterling's eyes grew wide. He knew the camera had caught the remark, but he pressed on anyway. "What do you mean 'she disappeared'?"

"She was feisty. Her eyes were black and she made a growling noise just before I stabbed her with my knife in that alley. She was so pretty. She died before I could play with her body."

Sterling eyebrows rose in surprise as he pieced the scenario together in his mind. This asshole had captured a female vamp and had murdered her in cold blood. It puzzled Sterling how a weak human could overpower a female vamp. Perhaps she was asleep, like Lenora Miller had been, and unable to defend herself. But why would she be sleeping in an alley? This man who sat in front of Sterling with an evil sneer on his face was six feet tall and roughly two hundred forty pounds. Surely even a weak female vampire could easily defend herself against him if she were conscious and unsurprised by the attack. Even a half–breed female could take him down.

Sterling decided he needed to see the knife. "You will tell the agents when they return about all the killings and exactly where each of your victims is buried." He leaned in and whispered, "You will tell them nothing about the disappearing woman. That was a dream."

Sterling left and headed towards the evidence room.

# United Service Chapter 4

"Wake up." Kekoa said as he gently shook the younger boy's arm. "You're okay. Open your eyes and look at me."

The kidnapped boy's eyebrows fluttered sluggishly and he let out a moan. The drugged sound reminded Kekoa of his own ordeal from five years ago. He worried about the boy, he had been unconscious for far too long. "You need to wake up. Please." Again, he shook the young boy.

Stephen fought to regain consciousness as his eyes, once again, peeked through his thick, sandy–blond hair. Jerking himself awake, he sat up. His pudgy frame lost its balance by the quick movement. He glanced around the unfamiliar room with his brown, puffy eyes and began screaming.

Quickly, Kekoa covered the boy's mouth. "You're okay," he assured him. "Shhhh. He'll hear you." He gently stroked the young boy's hair once he had stopped screaming. "You've been drugged, and things are going to be fuzzy in your head right now." Kekoa watched as the boy's eyes tried to focus on what must be a spinning room from inside his head. The powerful drugs had incapacitated the boy, and Kekoa had firsthand experience with them in his own system. Either the captors hadn't been giving Kekoa as much, or the drugs were affecting him less. He had gradually become more aware of his surroundings and was clearheaded enough to do more than just obey their orders.

"My name is Kekoa, and I'm a friend." Stephen franticly tried to stand while Kekoa held him down.

He watched as Stephen struggled for balance on a sleeping bag on the floor in the unfamiliar room. Clothes and sacks of takeout food littered the floor of the large, dirty bedroom. Stephen scooted away from Kekoa, knocking into trash on the floor, in an effort to gain some distance. "Where am I?" he asked, stumbling on the words, his eyes wide with fright.

In a reassuring voice, Kekoa continued, "That's a good question. I'm sure you have many of them. I'll answer everything I can, but first I need to know how you feel. Are you in any pain?"

Stephen looked down at his jeans. His mouth gaped open as he noticed bloodstains, a rip in the pants from his thigh to his ankles, and a bandage on his leg. His hand quickly found its way to the bandage. "Huh? What happened to me?" he asked, his voice cracking in fright.

Kekoa hated telling the children the truth, but at least they had him as a friend to see them through the adjustment. Five years ago, he had suffered the same fate but he had been alone. The only other real difference was that he was fourteen at the time and not as young as most of the other children were. He took a deep breath. "You were stabbed in the leg. I cut your jeans so I could clean the wound. Don't worry, the injury wasn't deep."

He hated lying to the boy. The cut was far worse than any he had seen before, and Kekoa, as a transitioning young vampire, did what he could to save the boy's life. The taste of the human blood as he had licked the wound to seal it, haunted him. His desire for more blood meant he was nearing the end of his Jahrling Year. He would die at the hand of his captors if they found out.

"Where am I?" Stephen asked again. He held his head as though it were spinning.

"In a house. This is where they take you before heading out to the camp." Kekoa saw the confusion in the boy's eyes. "This place is a staging area to make sure you're medically all right. After this, you'll be taken to a camp where the rest of the kids are." Kekoa noticed Stephen looking at a bangle on his wrist. "What's your name?" he asked to distract him.

"Stephen." He now inspected the bandage on his leg even more. "A man. I remember a man in my room last night. Where's my mom?"

Kekoa had seen many children like this one over the years, and it never got easier to explain to them what had happened. "You were kidnapped last night. I don't know anything about your mom."

A young girl who sat quietly on the floor, stood and limped towards the two boys. Her labored, uneven walk caused her to nearly fall down several times. Dried blood stained her torn jeans in the same spot as Stephen's was on his leg.

"Her name is Tiffany," Kekoa said as he helped her to sit down quietly once again on the floor. She sat there playing with her doll, patting its long hair and staring blankly off into the distance.

Kekoa studied the two younger children. He noticed Stephen looking at Tiffany's matching bracelet. He held up his hand and showed Stephen the third matching bracelet, which he wore. "Our bracelets are silver. If you want to live, you'll keep the cuff on."

# Enduring Service Chapter 1

### "ENDURING SERVICE" COLONY Series Novel #3

Sulie let out a huge yawn as she watched the apartment window from her parked car. She couldn't fight her fatigue. Her insane schedule had taxed her body. Between her shifts at the hospital and her responsibilities as a member of the Colony, which is the secret vampire task force for the White House, she needed a break. She wondered how human women could physically keep up. It wasn't like she had a career and a family, but two careers seemed enough — at least for now.

She had awakened before dawn to give the president his yearly physical before leaving for Camp David. As the president's private physician, she would be accompanying him once again. She cringed at the thought. The man was a letch when it came to women, especially blondes. Sulie looked all of twenty–two, with long blonde hair curled in locks. She inwardly cursed herself for getting hair extensions, and not cutting and dyeing her hair before the trip.

The upcoming trip was routine. The only exception being the president's latest health kick. His recent health craze pleased her since he had finally begun to follow her health advice. The man had already lost a good twenty pounds, and only had a few more to go to meet his goal. In preparation for being more physically fit, the president had even modernized the gym at Camp David. He packed an iPod filled with workout songs to bring with him so he could continue his daily workouts while on vacation.

Sulie's packed bags had already passed through security checks and had been loaded onto Marine One, the president's private helicopter which would take them to Camp David. The trip was not business related, and should—in theory—be relaxing, but she always hated going to the retreat. Again, she would have to dodge the president's advances, or ignore the man's parade of women. The Secret Service would be discrete, as always, with the president expecting Sulie to compel any humans to forget anything less than proper. She hated doing that. She was a trained doctor and soldier, not the man's personal cleanup crew.

Sulie sighed heavily as she again glanced up to the apartment window. These presidential trips used to have a silver lining — a silver–haired lining named Jonathan Dixon. He was the retiring Director of the Colony and had always accompanied her when she traveled with the president. The Director served as the human liaison between the president and the vampire team who had protected all the presidents since Lincoln's assassination. Dixon had served in that role for thirty years. Sulie liked the new replacement Director, but he was no Dixon.

Nobody was better than Dixon. He was the best Director the team ever had, and the one person in the world that Sulie trusted, depended on, and loved with all her heart. Her stomach twisted in pain at the thought of his upcoming retirement.

With his retirement, Dixon's memories of the last thirty years would be wiped away. He would forget her and everything they ever did together. Dixon had known the outcome when he accepted the assignment and was willing to fulfill his last duty to the team. She couldn't let that happen. Not before she told the man how much she loved him. Even if he didn't love her back, at least he would know how she felt.

They were both scheduled to attend the president's press conference, but that was still a few hours away. This was the time. This was the place. She looked down at the now empty bottle of scotch laying in her lap and felt the slight buzz of its effects. It had taken the whole bottle for her to muster the courage to do what she needed to do, to say what she needed to say. There was no turning back.

Grabbing her purse, she opened the car door. A cool breeze brushed against her face, causing her hair to caress her neck. She took in a deep breath as she stood up from the car. The glass bottle from her lap tumbled to the concrete street and shattered, spewing bits of glass onto her Italian leather heels. She clung onto the car door and took more deep breaths. Other than wine, she had never been much of a drinker. And even then, she never allowed herself to get tipsy, which she was now.

She entered the apartment building and found very few people about. Sunday. The day most people went to church. Walking across the lobby to the stairs, she heard the clicking of her heels as they echoed off the tiled floor. At least no one was going to witness her inability to walk a straight line.

The two flights of stairs challenged her, but she got her second wind when her foot hit the last step. Apartment 26E. She was very familiar with the apartment. It was the last one at the end of a short hallway; six apartments total per floor. As she approached the wooden door, she again felt the butterflies in her stomach. At the very least, the carpeted hallway had silenced her shoes, which helped ease her anxiety.

She rotated her neck and rolled her shoulders before knocking on the door. She wanted to appear relaxed and calm, even though her heart raced. How should she tell him? The hour she had spent in the car practicing her speech gave her several well rehearsed approaches, but then again, she had worked on the speech for decades. Could she handle a rejection from Dixon? It would make the little time she had left with the man awkward, but she needed to take the risk. She only hoped she wouldn't see pity in his eyes as he let her down.

She knocked once again at the door, a little louder this time. When she heard Dixon approaching, she took in a deep breath and remembered to smile, her fangs showing slightly.

The door flew open, and she gazed into Dixon's panicked eyes.

"I'm glad you're here," he said. "I need you."

# Enduring Service Chapter 2

Sulie dashed into the small, sparsely furnished apartment. Immediately, her nose wrinkled at the scent of stale food. "What's wrong?" she asked, glancing at a stack of empty pizza boxes and takeout containers on the dining room table.

Dixon closed the door and walked past her to the kitchen. The mortal man was in his mid–sixties and more than a century younger than Sulie. Over the years, his salt–and–pepper hair had grayed. His waistline had widened slightly, but his 6'1" frame carried the extra weight just fine in her opinion. He wore bifocals, but still had the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen. She inhaled deeply and took in the subtle scent of his aftershave as he walked past. The man had aged well, just like a fine bottle of wine.

Fumbling through his medications in a cabinet, Dixon pulled out a small, empty bottle with a dropper top. "I'm out of Devolixion," he said, reading the label, his voice nearly breathless. "I called the pharmacy, but even when I spelled out the medication they said they couldn't fill the prescription."

A slight smile crossed Sulie's lips. "It's fine," she said, reaching into her purse. "I brought you a three–month supply." She handed one of the bottles to Dixon and stored the other two in his cabinet.

She watched as Dixon smiled and let out a sigh of relief. The man had no idea how adorable he was. He could lead the team of vampires when it came to missions with the president, but ask him to keep track of anything personal and he became a mess. Sulie thought the man needed a woman in his life. She knew Dixon had been married several times, and she suspected that he had given up when it came to matters of the heart. The few dates he did go on, well, they never amounted to much — one way or the other.

Now was the time. All she had to do was to confess her love, but why were her knees suddenly shaking? Noticing the butterflies in her stomach, and feeling queasy from the scotch, she decided to have a seat in the living room.

There was a couch, an unmatched chair, and a huge television in the room. In the middle stood a table, stained from years of abuse, which desperately needed coasters. Several technical journals lay on the table, well–worn with turned down pages and highlights. The man was always reading dry reference manuals. She wondered how he didn't put himself to sleep with them.

The dry cleaning she had picked up for him days ago still lay in its plastic bag and draped over the overstuffed leather chair. As she shifted the laundered clothes aside so she could sit, she caught her reflection in the small mirror that hung on the wall. Her reflection appeared fuzzy because of her vampire nature, but clear enough for her to recognize the image as her own. In preparation for this day, she had spent the entire day before at the spa. The hair extensions were an easy choice, especially since she knew Dixon liked long, flowing hair. The manicure and pedicure would probably go unnoticed, but were pleasant, and the facial had been nice.

She sat down and noticed Dixon yawning as he squirted some Devolixion into his coffee cup. He stirred the drink as he walked to the couch, leaning heavily on the armrest as he took his seat.

"Dixon, it's nearly eleven o'clock. Why are you so tired?" she asked.

Slouching, he rubbed his eyes. "I don't know. Maybe because I'm late taking the Devolixion?" he asked, looking down into his coffee mug.

"No," she said quickly. She moved onto the couch and, taking his hand, she used her special ability to read him medically. A simple touch was sufficient for a good diagnosis, but she ran her hand up his arm and allowed it to travel to his face. Caressing him tenderly, she continued diagnosing him with her special ability.

He closed his eyes as her fingers danced along his brow. "Your hair looks nice. Did you do something different to it?"

"It's springtime. I figured it was time for a new look," she lied. She wanted to admit that she changed her look just for him, but she wasn't quite ready for that discussion. She needed to find out what ailed him first.

"It's pretty. I like the bouncy curls."

She smiled as she accepted the anticipated compliment. Dixon had a fondness for the Farrah Fawcett look from the show "Charlie's Angels" in the '70s, and Sulie had adjusted her hairstyle a few times to mimic the woman's tresses. She did the same thing in the '90s when Dixon commented on Rachel's hairstyle in the "Friends" show. Each change in hairstyle had earned her a compliment from the man, but, unfortunately, nothing more.

After a brief pause, he added, "But short looks good too, like the hairstyle you had over a year ago at Easter. Still, this one is... different. I like it."

Sulie loved how attentive to detail Dixon was. His photographic memory allowed him to remember many fine points. "Thank you, Dixon. Now hush so I can finish examining you." Her hands dove into his lush hairline.

After another moment of her caressing the nape of his neck, she announced, "You're anemic." She studied his tired face. "How long have you been this tired?"

"What? Um... I guess I've been tired for a while now. I don't know." He motioned with his hands over his body. "I'm falling to pieces. I did do some training exercises with Brandon yesterday, which wore me out."

"Brandon is less than half your age," Sulie said about the man replacing Dixon as Colony Director. "Your anemia could be a result of the ulcer you have. Probably a lack of iron in your blood. I better taste it so I can be sure." Her fangs were not fully extended, but she rubbed his fingertip across one of the two sharp points in her mouth. A drop of blood pooled, so she licked the small wound and quickly sealed it.

The warm sample was small, but enough for an accurate reading — even better than having lab work done. At the very least, they got the answer immediately without having to wait.

She grimaced as she tasted his blood. "It's weak. Not much hemoglobin." She licked her lips clean. "You have a lack of iron in your system. Let's go have some lunch. I suggest you order a steak and I'll prescribe some supplements for you." She glanced up at him. "I'll cook fish for when you come by tonight to play poker."

"You're treating me like one of the babies you deliver," he laughed as he wiped her saliva off his hand and onto his pant leg.

"More gentle than a heel prick for a newborn," she said, noticing his actions. It wasn't like he had brought out antibacterial gel and sanitized his hand, but the gesture still hurt. During the exam, she had picked up no signs of love from the man. No raised heart rate. No increase of perspiration. No elevated endorphin level. No sexual arousal. No nothing.

Sulie looked away to hide her teary eyes. Human beings were easy to manipulate with a simple compelling, but she wanted Dixon's love to be genuine. Even without her oath to the president, which forbade her from compelling select government officials, including the Colony Director, she couldn't compel Dixon — not even in a moment of weakness. His mind had been altered when he had accepted the office of Director. No vampire could compel him.

So, she would remain just a friend to Dixon. A well trusted friend. Perhaps declaring her love would be the catalyst for him to see her in a new light. Unfortunately, professing her love was not something she wanted to do once they sat in a crowded restaurant. She also didn't want to rush the subject. The man was sick and he needed to eat. It could wait until after the president's Camp David trip. But after that, she would tell him. There would still be plenty of time.

"Steak probably isn't a good idea. You know I avoid red meat because of my cholesterol. You're the one who prescribed Devolixion to me in the first place."

"I prescribed Crestor for your cholesterol," she corrected him.

Looking down at his coffee mug, he said, "I thought Devolixion was also for my cholesterol."

"Don't avoid red meat today," she said, changing the subject. "This afternoon you'll enjoy a steak and we'll talk about your diet. I want you to eat foods that are rich in iron for a few days."

He finished his coffee and stood up. "I'm feeling a little better. Let me grab my coat, and then we'll head out."

She wasn't surprised that he felt better. That was a nice side effect of Devolixion and one reason she made sure he took the medicine every day. Thankfully, she had anticipated his need for more and could mix–up another batch of the fictitious drug before heading over. Medically speaking, what she was doing was unethical, but no one ever said love was fair.

# Enduring Service Chapter 3

As Sulie and Dixon entered the restaurant, the hostess led them to a small table in the back at Dixon's request. The place wasn't one of their usual haunts, but the Cattlemen's Club offered the best steak in town. Looking around, Dixon thought the restaurant played the part with longhorns attached to the wall, cowhides on the floors and a big stone fireplace in the corner. Based on his name tag, their host's name was Bubba, but Dixon didn't believe it to be his real name. The place screamed Texas, although they dined in the middle of Washington DC.

The dim light of the restaurant, even for a lunch crowd, gave the place a soft romantic atmosphere. If the place didn't offer the best steak in town, Dixon would have suggested a place less romantic. He cursed himself inwardly for asking for a table in the back of the restaurant, but it was standard procedure when out with a member of the vampire team — hide, blend in, go unnoticed. Unfortunately, he felt like he was on a date. A date with Sulie of all people.

He shook his head as he took his seat, deliberately not offering to pull her chair out for her. The less date–like things he did, the better. He thought back to his latest technical journal. The TDK–4XL laser tracking beam which could be used as an attachment on an M4–carbine rifle. Precise and a good level laser. It fit snugly atop the rifle... it had a range of... . His mind trailed off, not able to recall the specifics. He bit his lip as he found his old trick of sidetracking his mind wasn't working. Sulie sat down and brushed her gorgeous hair off her neck as the waiter handed her a menu — a menu she would pretend to glance at, but then order nothing from since, as a vampire, she couldn't eat human food.

The light from the fireplace cast a warm glow on her face. The flames danced in the reflection of her beautiful blue eyes as she ordered a scotch. The liquor wasn't her usual drink, but she was well over twenty–one and therefore entitled. Vampires could drink coffee and alcohol, but not much anything else. Dixon liked that she could enjoy a beverage while he ate a meal. He glanced at the waiter and ordered himself a beer.

_A scotch?_ Dixon flashed a slight smile in her direction. She ordered the drink so commandingly. No fru–fru drink — no little umbrella for her. No. When Sulie did something, anything, she always presented herself as a force to be reckoned with. He found her strength incredibly sexy.

He took a deep breath. _"Not Sulie",_ he mentally said to himself. He was a human and therefore unworthy of the beautiful vampire's affections. Nearly a year ago he had asked Sulie's brother, Raymond, about the option to turn him into a vampire. As the head vampire of the Colony, Raymond had access to the Vampire Council — the council which approved human turnings. They had said no. No to him turning, no to him having the life he wanted as an immortal and no to him sharing that life with the woman he... Well, it didn't matter what his feelings were for Sulie. She wasn't his for the taking. Never would be.

He was retiring and planned to enjoy what little time he had left. He wouldn't remember the team, their missions or Sulie. _"Probably for the best,"_ he thought. He just didn't want Sulie to forget him.

"I have something for you," he announced, clearing his throat. He wasn't sure what her reaction would be, but he needed to do this.

The waiter came by with their drinks, giving Dixon a moment's reprieve. He took a sip of his beer before leaning back in his chair so he could place his hand in his front pants pocket to retrieve a small item. "I didn't wrap it or anything; I just want you to have it." He pulled out a small locket and chain. The candlelight from their table danced off the locket as the jewelry shone brilliantly in his hand. "The locket originally was silver so I covered it with white gold so you can touch it. The chain is white gold too."

He handed the tiny treasure to Sulie. The original detailing around the outside remained, but the center's new gold casting contained her engraved initials, her real initials, not any of her government aliases.

"It's beautiful, Dixon. Is it an antique?"

"Yes. The gold covers up the original engraving of GDA, which stood for Gabriella Angelina Dixon. She was my mother."

"What?" Her eyes darted over and made eye contact with him. "It belonged to your mother?"

"She died a long time ago and her locket has been sitting in a box all these years." He watched as Sulie studied the jewelry. "I never had children, so I don't have anyone to give the piece to. I would like for you to have it to remember me by once I retire."

Sulie took several gulps of her scotch, which emptied the glass. Dixon could never remember her drinking hard liquor before, and had halfway expected her to nurse the drink during their lunch together while she watched him eat. It wasn't the reaction he had been expecting in regards to his gift, especially since she had a hurt expression on her face.

"Sorry. I phrased my words so poorly." Dixon shook his head and raked his fingers through his hair. He was never one for words. "I want you to have my mother's locket. It isn't that I have no one and you're the default. Not like it's a charity or anything. I want you to have something of my family's to keep. After all, you're like a sister to me." When he noticed her shoulders slump, as if in defeat, he asked, "Are you okay?"

She held up the empty glass and caught the waiter's attention for a refill. "It's just that you've been thinking of retiring for a year now. Why are you so determined to move on?" she asked.

Dixon slumped back in his chair. He rubbed the back of his neck as he gave her his well prepared answer, an answer which was mostly true. He was human. He would eventually die. What other choice did he have but to retire?

"It's because of my friend Steve," he offered as an explanation.

Sulie's eyebrow rose as she asked, "Do I know him?"

"No. He and three other buddies of mine all served in Vietnam together. The war seems so long ago now." He looked at Sulie and understood that forty years to her didn't represent nearly a lifetime, as it did to him. "Steve died during the holidays last year. His wife let me know when I called after the first of the year."

She placed her hand on his. "I'm so sorry, Dixon."

"Yeah. Well... hell." He closed his eyes for a second to gather his thoughts. Life seemed too damn fleeting. "There were five of us. Buddies through thick and thin." He let out a deep breath. "War has a way of making your friends as close as family. We weren't just buddies; we were brothers. And I lost Steve to a heart attack. We lost Larry back in the '80s. Carl and Tim died a few years back."

"Dixon, you should have said something. We could have talked about your loss."

"These friends were a part of my life that didn't include you or the Colony," he shrugged. "I'm all that's left of our group of five — I'm the last man standing, so to speak. And, it wasn't like any of us were all that old to begin with." He looked at Sulie. He hated mentioning his age to her.

"Steve always wanted to retire. He and his wife planned to travel." As Sulie sat there quietly, he added, "I don't want to just work. I want to live while I still can."

"You're not that old, Dixon." She nudged him in the shoulder. "Besides, other than being anemic, I can tell you're in excellent health, well, other than your cholesterol." She paused a moment. "And your ulcer."

Sulie's new drink arrived. The beverage was half gone before the waiter finished saying that Dixon's meal was the next one out of the kitchen. Again the waiter asked if Sulie wanted anything to eat, and again she said no and politely asked him to leave. She set the drink down, pushed the tiny pin on the side of the locket and opened the hidden compartment.

A gasp escaped her throat. "Oh my. Is that you?" she asked, smiling at him.

Dixon pointed to the pictures, "From when I was a small boy. Feel free to put other pictures in there if you want, I didn't know how to open it... I also didn't know what pictures you would want in it." He stammered a bit in his speech. "Anyway, if you like the locket, I want you to keep it."

"You were adorable!" Sulie touched his arm. "How old are you in these?"

Dixon gazed over at the pictures. He had not seen them in quite some time, but recognized them instantly. "I was two and three. My mother didn't enjoy sewing, but managed to make that outfit for me. I wore it until I was close to four years old."

"The hat is precious."

"I hated the hat. I think I eventually lost the itchy thing on an outing for ice cream one day." He shook his head. "Something like that. Mother was furious."

Her smile looked precious to him. "They're great pictures," she said.

Dixon took note of Sulie's hand caressing his arm. She also had shifted her body slightly and sat closer to him. He cleared his throat and needed facts and figures to not think about her dainty fingers on his skin.

"Photography was so poor back in the day," he began as he searched his mental database for anything distracting to say. Finally, he came up with, "Today's high–powered cameras, like the one on the Mars rover, have 14 micrometers per pixel. That's about .000039 inches."

"Listen to you. Always quoting numbers. My gosh, I think you'd be lost without those journals of yours. You always quote them when we're together."

He gave her a strained smile. "Silly hobby, I guess."

Her fangs showed as she gently bit her lower lip. "I love... the pictures and locket." Looking down at the locket once more, she continued massaging his arm. Her touch felt cold, which was normal for her. He felt her fingertips gently touching his hand, but then she pulled away and finished her drink.

Dixon watched her carefully, guessing that he had fooled her once again. She didn't make eye contact with him, and appeared a bit saddened. She was acting strangely, but he didn't think it was because of him. Unless, of course, her behavior was about his retirement.

Soon his retirement would be official. That would mean Raymond would perform a memory wipe on him. His knowledge of the Colony spanned decades, and he had a mental subroutine already in place to block out all vampire compelling. Raymond had installed the subroutine, and he was the only one who could remove it. Wishing now the drink he had was stronger, Dixon thought about that. Thirty years seemed like a lot of time to wipe from a man's memory. He wouldn't remember anything other than he had had a good career. He wouldn't even be able to stay in Washington, DC for fear of bumping into anyone from his current life. It was a big process, but he knew worrying about it wouldn't help.

As he watched Sulie order a third scotch, he wondered if she would have a part in the memory wipe. Maybe she was to oversee his health during the procedure? Maybe she would be the one to place a fictitious thirty years into his mind? Either way, Sulie was acting oddly. He thought he noticed tears well up in her eyes, but figured it to be only a trick of the light.

"I love the locket, Dixon. The fact that it was your mother's... well, that is something special."

"May I?" he asked, reaching for the locket. He leaned over and placed it around her neck. She held her long curls up which made it easier to fasten the clasp.

"How does it look?"

"Good." She seemed a bit hurt by his short description, so he cautiously added, "Lovely," and watched a smile cross her lips.

He bit his lip as he glanced away. It was harder seeing Sulie wearing his mother's locket than he had thought it would be. But, her slender neck was exactly where the locket belonged. He had made the right decision; he just had to retire and move on.

"I like the pictures inside. I won't ever change them."

"Oh," he said, waving his hands dismissively. "Personalize the locket for yourself."

The waiter arrived with a tray of food. "Here you are, sir. Medium rare. I hope the meal is to your liking." He placed the plate in front of Dixon and collected Sulie's now empty scotch glass. Dixon noticed he left before another drink could be ordered.

Dixon heard Sulie huff in the waiter's direction as she tried to order another drink. "Ok. What's going on?" Dixon asked.

Taking a deep breath, she said, "Nothing. Eat your meal before it gets cold. I think I need another drink."

# Enduring Service Chapter 4

Sulie asked Dixon to drive them over to the White House in her car so they could attend the president's weekly scheduled press conference. She was nowhere near drunk, but he was chivalrous nonetheless, and had insisted based on the number of scotches she had put away during lunch.

A five–minute countdown announcement came across their earbud com units as they passed through White House security and entered the press briefing room in the West Wing. The reporters would be allowed into the room in five minutes. Right now they were being screened by the Secret Service and William, another member of the Colony. William would make sure none of the reporters were vampires since, as a vampire himself, he would be able to detect any other predators nearby.

Sulie took a deep breath and glanced at the love of her life. The car ride over had been quiet. She didn't want to tell Dixon what had upset her, even though he had asked repeatedly. Spilling her guts and saying, " _Gosh, I'm so in love with you that it hurts, and all you can do is think of me as your sister,"_ wasn't something she ever wanted to blurt out — especially since they didn't have the time right now to really discuss their feelings.

How do you say goodbye to someone who means so much to you? The man who is her first thought in the morning and her last thought at night and many thoughts between. She knew the man's hand gestures and most, if not all, of his stories by heart. All Sulie wanted was for his toothbrush to rest beside hers in the bathroom, for his slippers to be under her bed at night, and for his arms to be around her forever.

Of course, the first step would be in admitting her feelings for him. Sulie felt the stabbing pain of shame creep over her. She had hundreds of opportunities throughout the years and chickened out each time. Of course, if Dixon had even once shown any interest in her, that may have been different.

Dixon planned to retire soon. He already participated in an advisory role and certainly one day soon would be leaving the Colony. Her brother, Raymond, had promised not to do any memory wiping without telling her ahead of time when it would be. Even with advance knowledge, she knew time was running out.

She noticed Dixon standing in his usual position against the side wall and waited for the president to walk down the hallway to the tiny press room. It pained her to know that the spot was now officially reserved for Brandon, the new Director of the Colony. A tear escaped and rolled down her face as she watched Brandon enter the room. He announced in the com unit that the press was on their way in and then he took Dixon's spot against the wall, leaving Dixon to find a seat among the press.

That spot against the wall didn't belong to Dixon anymore, but old habits are hard to break. She figured she'd get used to seeing Brandon standing there one day. It had been nearly a year since Brandon had taken over as Director and she still wasn't used to Dixon sitting among the crowd. Eventually, Dixon would not be here at all.

Sulie noticed another Colony team member, Ben, enter and stand against the opposite wall, carefully studying the reporters as they each took their seats. With Ben's special abilities, she knew he was viewing each of their auras to detect if anyone in the room intended to harm the president. While he studied their auras, Sulie walked amongst them, slyly touching a few on their hands to inspect them medically. She found none with elevated heart rates or excessive sweating.

The door next to Brandon opened and the Press Secretary, presidential Speech Writer and the Operations Director walked in. They were followed by the president and Raymond. The president proudly strode to the wooden platform and placed his water bottle atop it. The room quieted down as the president thanked the press for coming and began his pre–rehearsed speech.

The president had barely begun to speak when Sulie heard him say, "Again, I want to stress the importance of exercise and wellbeing to the American people. It is within our power to secure healthier lifestyles for ourselves and our children — not only for America, but for the population of the world. I see the American people being able to defeat such evils as cancer within our lifetime, if we put in place practices and procedures to enable us to live a healthier tomorrow."

Sulie fought not to roll her eyes. Six months on a health kick and the man thought he could change the world. Overall, she wished people would take better care of themselves, but knew that people would never change unless the change came from within themselves. That is why it surprised her when the president announced some new programs.

"By the end of the year," the president said, "all insurance companies will provide discounts to individuals who routinely donate blood to the U.S. Department of Health & Human Services approved collection companies. Companies such as the Red Cross and many others are excited about this program and will provide more donation centers across the United States. Hospitals will also be staffed to collect and store blood from everyone, including the cord blood collected from births. Incentives will be made to physicians who contribute tissue samples for research..."

Sulie's eyes darted over to Raymond. He too seemed a bit skeptical about all the new programs. Of course, the Colony team was not made privy to the president's agenda. The man wanted a second term, and if lobbyists were pressuring his administration for more medical advances, then so be it.

Questions now came from the audience — the first was whether the president suffered from cancer or other blood disease. Sulie knew the answer to be no and waited for the president to call her up to the stand to give a brief testimonial as to his health. But no such request came. The president dismissed the question regarding his health and took the next one. This time the question was about his trip to Camp David. The president assured the press that the trip was merely for relaxation and he would be back at work after a few short days. He then ended the press conference and was escorted back through the door and down the hallway to the Oval office by his entire entourage, including all Colony members on staff today. This left Sulie, who had the afternoon off, alone with Dixon in the conference room once the reporters finished texting their reports.

She took a seat next to Dixon.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

His green eyes appeared sad to her and Sulie knew he truly wanted to help — but he thought of her as a sister. She already had a brother and didn't need a second one. She forced a fangy smile. She never tried to hide her fangs when it was only the two of them. "Actually, there is something I want to tell you."

A smile crossed his lips. "You can tell me anything."

Sulie took a deep breath, but then she heard the vibrations of her phone in her handbag. She gave Dixon a pouty look, "work" she whispered as she answered the phone.

"Yes, this is Dr. Anna Smith," Sulie said into the phone. "All right, put the patient through." After a moment she continued, "How far along are the contractions?... Uh, huh. Are you near Washington Memorial Hospital?... Yes, I am one." When Dixon looked up at her, she merely pointed to one of her fangs as she listened to the new patient. "This is your first baby? Ok... Let me give you my direct number..." Sulie finished the call and looked over to Dixon. "I have to go. It's an emergency and I doubt they'll make it to the hospital in time. Can you get a ride home?"

"Yes. If you're sure you can drive." After she nodded that she could drive, he stood and walked her out of the room. "Another vamp baby?"

Sulie reached in her purse to pull out her keys. "Vamps prefer to have vamp doctors and I'm the only game in town when it comes to obstetrics."

"But what about what you wanted to tell me?" he asked.

"It's nothing," she said, feeling guilt and relief at the same time as she put this conversation, and her love life, on hold yet again.

# Equality of Service Prologue

### "Equality of Service" COLONY Series, Novel #4

William reread the text message from his team members, who were out of town on assignment with the President. _"POTUS lockdown. All secure."_

Security for the trip was fine, and he remained thankful to have the time off. Relieved actually. The small vacation gave him time to spend at home with his family, as well as some well–deserved rest.

Most of the COLONY vampires had flown to California earlier in the week with the President. During the President's tenures as Commander–In–Chief, he promised to visit each state in the Union. The tour had them in Oregon tonight, with the team flying back tomorrow. Every few months the President crossed off a couple of the states. Since this was his second term in office, he worked his second round of visits.

William wandered down the hallway to his children's bedrooms, trying to be as quiet as possible. His fifteen year old son, Sinclair, lay in his bed watching YouTube. Why was he still up? His bedtime was hours ago. After William told him for the second time to go to bed, he continued down the hallway to his daughter's room.

Nicole slept soundly in her bed, her arm around her doll. William entered the room and covered the child, which caused her to moan quietly and sink into the blanket for warmth. She was twelve but still on the small–side. He caressed the girl's cheek, stroking her hair off her face, and left the room.

William's next stop was in the nursery. There his newborn baby, Hannah, quietly slept. Of the three children, Hannah seemed the most clingy, and the one most likely not to fall asleep (or stay asleep) at night. William gave a slight sigh as he smiled at the sleeping babe.

He tiptoed carefully from the room, stepping over the creaking floorboard that always seemed to wake Hannah up. He made his way to the kitchen where his wife, Jackie, and another team member, Alex, sat at the table. Brown fabric was draped over Jackie's lap, a pin cushion rested on her wrist, and the hum of a sewing machine came to an abrupt stop as she looked up at her husband.

"They all asleep?"

He shrugged his shoulders and took a seat between her and Alex. "Not all, but enough of them," he said half jokingly.

"What does that mean?" Alex asked as she reached for her glass of wine and took a sip.

William looked over to the newest member of the COLONY. Alex had been nominated as the team's new COLONY Director, but she declined the position since she had fallen in love with the COLONY coven master, Raymond. Raymond later turned her so she could work alongside the team.

"He means the most important one, baby Hannah, is asleep." Jackie stretched in her seat, her spine cracking as her muscles flexed. "I nursed her twice and rocked her for thirty minutes before you came over."

"She doesn't go down easily," William agreed. "When she is up, the whole house is up."

Gathering the material from her lap, Jackie piled it neatly on the table. "Thanks for helping us make these costumes for the Thanksgiving play at Nicole's school."

"Not at all," Alex said as she picked up some beads and followed William's lead of threading them on a thin strip of fabric with a knot on one end. "What types of costumes are you making?"

William compared his recently made bead string with the others on the table. Realizing it was shorter than the rest, he grabbed another two beads. "Nicole is a squaw in the production. Jackie got roped into making ten Native American costumes for the play."

" _I volunteered_ ," Jackie said, smiling, her fangs slightly showing. " _You_ were roped in by me."

Alex began a second strand of beads and watched as Jackie sewed some that William had made earlier onto one of the costumes. The Singer danced expertly under Jackie's hand.

"Did you have a pattern?" Alex asked.

Jackie chuckled. "White pillow cases dyed brown, with slits for the head and arms, and beads sewn on isn't exactly a challenging project." She picked up a finished costume and pointed to the different features. "I even added a couple of darts in the back to give it some shape as well as cut the bottom to make fringe."

William placed another completed bead strand on the table. "I have no idea what a dart is, but it is very clever, babe."

Alex turned a costume over and pointed to the two sewn gatherings in back. "Darts." She then placed it back down on the table and looked around. "Are they going to wear feathered headdresses?"

Jackie's eyes lit up. "I almost forgot." She walked to the countertop nearest the stove and plugged in a hot glue gun. Pointing to a bag of feathers, she added, "We've got everything we need."

"I'm on it." William stood and manned the glue gun.

Alex smiled as she looked from one to another, then she took another sip of wine. "You two make a cute couple. I never heard the story of how the two of you met."

Both William and Jackie snickered.

"What?" Alex asked.

Jackie gave her a wry smile. "Within five minutes of meeting the man, I was yelling at him and calling him a mockery of the American dream of equality for all."

William let out a slight chuckle. "She had no idea I was an ex–Freedom Rider from the 1960s who died in the pursuit of equality, and who was turned into a vampire."

Alex's jaw dropped. "No way!"

"Girl, I was awful to him. And, I had no idea vampires existed." Jackie walked over to William, her arms wrapping around her man as she hugged him. "I said he had forged a system of lies for the American people and was spoon–feeding it to them." She halfway laughed and looked her husband in the eyes. "And you know what? You ate my nasty attitude up and knew I was the woman of your dreams!"

"Woman, you were so smitten with me that you couldn't keep your hands off."

Alex sat back in her chair, no longer stringing beads."Tell me the whole story."

Jackie looked up to William, whose response was to shrug. "Go ahead and tell it your way, babe. I'll jump in when needed."

Jackie took a deep breath as she returned to the kitchen table. "Well, our story began on a cold spring day...

# Equality of Service Chapter 1

An entire relationship and three beautiful children earlier...

Jackie's body ached, and all she wanted was a hot bath. She opened the door to her apartment complex and left the bitter cold of the Maryland winter outside. She dusted off her jacket, removed her gloves, and loosened the scarf around her neck. Just a few steps into the lobby of the building and she already felt too hot to need her coat.

She heard the clicking of her boots as she crossed the tiled floor to the community mailboxes. After watching the mail tumble out once she opened the tiny door, she cursed herself for not having the post office hold her mail.

However, she was only gone a week.

An exhausting week.

She quickly scanned the mail. Why was she still getting letters address to her ex-boyfriend, Steve? She had told that man to have the post office change his address. What did she have to do? Fill out the forms for him? She grabbed a pen from her purse and crossed out her address, writing, "Forward" onto each envelope. Next time, she wasn't going to be as kind.

But she had said that to herself the last time she had checked the mail. And the time before that.

No. Not anymore. She grabbed the letters and, pressing down firmly with the pen, wrote, "Address Unknown" across the top, scratching out her earlier marks. She then slipped the letters into the outgoing mail slot. She was done playing nice with that man, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It felt good to no longer be his doormat.

She removed her coat and draped the garment over her arm. Gathering up the remaining mail, mostly bills, she carried her small suitcase up the main staircase to her apartment. Eclectic styles of artwork hung in the hallways. Not her taste, but the paintings, the plush carpet, and the light fixtures on the walls always reminded her of a library — a nice, clean library. She fumbled for her keys as she approached her door. It wasn't very late, but evidently she had made enough noise that her elderly neighbor had come out of her apartment to see who stood in the hallway.

"Oh, Jackie dear. It's you."

Jackie took a deep breath. Why couldn't she walk into her apartment without a news announcement or gossip call from Mrs. Cunningham? She was a sweet woman, although a bit eccentric and long winded. Tonight the woman wore a red housecoat, fluffy white house shoes, and her hair was curled in rollers. "Hello, Mrs. C."

"It's good to see you, Jackie. You look so nice." She touched the brim of her glasses as though getting a good look at her.

Jackie gave a wry smile. Really? She looked nice? She wore torn jeans and a dirty T–shirt. Her hair lay tied back in a kerchief, and she wore no makeup. She wasn't looking like the belle of the ball since she had spent the day moving heavy boxes. She still smiled and accepted the compliment.

"How is your father, dear?"

Leave it up to Mrs. C. to hit her with that loaded question this late at night. "As best as can be expected." Jackie slid her key into the lock of her door and heard the tumbler unlock the chamber.

"Is he all moved in?"

How the little old bitty could keep track of everyone else's whereabouts and comings and goings was beyond Jackie. She smiled at the woman as she opened the door. "Yes. He's just down the road at Silver Estates."

"That's a nice retirement home. Nancy down the hall mentioned to me that she needs to find a place for her elderly mother. Of course," Mrs. C now looked down the hallway and continued in a whisper, "she needs to find a place that is not too close to where her father lives because..."

Jackie's hand rose up to stop her. "It's rather late, Mrs. C."

Her eyebrow rose, perhaps in frustration. Regardless, she kept talking. "I figured you'd be gone until at least this weekend."

It was only Thursday and Jackie had planned to take her father shopping over the next few days to buy whatever he may need for his new apartment. "Things went smoother than planned," she said.

Mrs. C's eyes lit up. "Oh, I almost forgot. You got some flowers while you were away. Caroline down the hallway got some too, but they weren't nearly as nice as yours. Hold on..." She entered her apartment and returned holding a vase of not so fresh roses. "They arrived just after you left."

Jackie quickly grabbed the flowers since they looked heavy in the old woman's arms. "Thanks Mrs. C. I appreciate you signing for them."

She offered Jackie a wide grin. "I know this is your year for getting a ring on that hand of yours. You know, you're the only single woman still on this floor."

Jackie shifted her stance to her other foot, partly because of the weight of the flowers. Jackie wanted to be married and perhaps have children, but she doubted that this was her year for it. She certainly didn't need to know that she was the resident spinster. "Steve and I broke up weeks ago," she explained under her breath.

Mrs. C. shook her head. "Oh, not him dear. Someone better."

Jackie bit her tongue. "Ok, if you say so. It's rather late, and I have some unpacking to do."

"If you ever need anything...."

Jackie smiled. "I know you're only across the hall." She entered her apartment, closing the door on the very sweet, but very nosey, woman.

Now alone, she studied the nearly dead flowers. She had spent an entire week moving her father into a retirement home. Well, him and his two cats. Four months had passed since her mother died from ovarian cancer, and her parents had lived out in California. Moving to Maryland was a big move for her father. At the very least, he was sensible about it. He appreciated her efforts and now only lived a few miles away from her.

The flowers went straight into the trash, but she pulled the card. Jackie took a deep breath as she read it. She prayed the flowers weren't from her ex–boyfriend. Although she didn't know who else the bouquet could have been from.

Unfortunately, the flowers were Steve's second attempt to woo her back. She ripped up the card and threw it in the trash. There was no way she was allowing that cheating bastard back into her life. She wanted a man to share his life with her. To be with her all the way until death did them part — just like her father had been there for her mother. The two of them had a great love story.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She missed her mom and had hated to see the pain in her father's eyes over the last year as his wife slowly withered away. People should live forever, or at the very least not die such lingering deaths.

_"Buck up, Jackie,"_ she thought to herself. She was lucky to have had her mother in her life as long as she had, and luckier still to have her father. Her parents did love each other. Love stories like theirs didn't exist anymore. Which is why she planned to swear off men forever... or at least until Mr. Right came into her life.

Her shoulders sank and she let out all the air in her lungs. She had lived with three men, and none of them were the love of her life. Hell, she probably wouldn't even recognize Mr. Right if he did come by.

Just then, Jackie heard her phone ring.

William scratched his arm again. The wool suit created a rash on his skin. He cursed at the cold chill of the brisk morning air as he and another COLONY agent, Ben, drove to Criswell Elementary school. March had come in like a lion with its blustery winds and low chill factors. He couldn't wait for the month to exit like a lamb.

What bothered William the most was the fact that he didn't even need the warmth of the wool suit, or the full–length, lined winter coat he wore. Posing as human proved to be a pain at times. Honestly, he could be out in shorts and feel fine. But today he felt like a dressed up monkey. Dark suit, red silk tie, dress shoes, and, of course, the sunglasses. He hated it all. A pair of jeans and a comfortable T–shirt were more his style. Actually, an Afro was also more his style. But since he worked with the covert vampire team protecting the President, he kept his hair short and professional, and he sported no facial hair.

Looking out of the car window, William took in the stately neighborhood they drove through. Solid brick two–story houses, fireplaces, expensive cars in the driveways... everything appeared polished, all the way down to the non–cracked sidewalks. Certainly, no gangs traveled these streets, and he bet the only person of color would be a maid.

"Are you sure this is the right address?" he asked Ben.

"Brighton Corbe Estates. Essex Avenue. Should be around the corner." Ben handed the map to William. "Don't even suggest I ask for directions."

William took the map and barely glanced at it. Ben had worked with the COLONY decades longer than William. Ben was one of the founding members of the team, which formed after the assassination of Abraham Lincoln.

Another turn and a short drive down the street led them to the elementary school. The large building stood tall on its large lot. It was all white brick, and had a spacious courtyard, and offered plenty of parking.

"Let me get this straight," he challenged Ben. "The President has taken a lot of flack for not caring enough about our education system, and especially for not providing for underprivileged kids." William pointed at the building. "Does he think this sanctuary with no broken windows and no kids on state funded lunch programs will really fit the bill?"

Ben parked the car in front of the school. "I only have to protect the man. I don't have to agree with him."

"But doesn't it bother you?"

Ben glared at William. "Change takes its sweet time. You're not that old, but you can remember the riots of the '60s — the inequality we suffered. I've seen a lot of change. Don't forget, our people weren't even allowed an education when I was a boy."

William felt a pang of guilt. Ben had been born a slave in the 1800s. Surely he had seen worse discrimination in his days than William had. Ben stood the tallest and largest of all the COLONY vamps. Looking like a linebacker in corporate dress, William could only imagine the life Ben had been forced to live back in the days of slavery.

The two exited the car and did a surveillance sweep of the outside of the building. "No security cameras," Ben said. "The human Secret Service agents already noted that. There will be some in place by Monday morning when the big man arrives."

When they easily entered the building, William rolled his eyes. "Outdated metal detectors. Only one manual security check. I wish the old man were visiting a museum or library. Schools are so open."

"Schools are getting more and more secure, but some are behind the times." Ben led William down the short corridor to the main office. Before they entered, he whispered,"The human team already has a plan to better secure the building. We just have to visit with the staff and make sure no vampires are around."

# Equality of Service Chapter 2

On Monday, Jackie drove in to work. As a substitute teacher, she always tried to arrive early. Different streets, different traffic... she never wanted to be late, even if she hated the school.

Criswell Elementary ranked as a top notch school across the state. Of course, in an abundantly rich neighborhood, that would be expected.

As she turned onto the street to the school, she was surprised to find a group of policemen waving her into a secured roped–off parking lot. After showing her ID and explaining that she was subbing for a teacher, she was allowed to park. The officers gave her no explanation for the parking precautions, but since she saw men on nearby rooftops, possibly snipers, she assumed maybe the President was nearby.

The policemen asked her to exit the car while they searched the interior, the underside, and the trunk for explosives and weapons. They didn't say that was what they looked for, but it seemed obvious to Jackie.

She felt a momentary gush of excitement. After all, she had never seen a President before. But over the years she lived in the D.C. area, the reality was that presidential outtings were more of a hassle than anything else. Her car's strip search was proof of that this morning.

She checked her watch. It was still early, but not as early as she would have preferred. With the possibility of the President nearby, it now made sense that many of the streets in the neighborhood that were blocked off, and the detours, although short, had caused her to zigzag around in a maze–like fashion — adding more time to her morning commute.

She smiled politely to the officers as they completed their task and instructed her to collect her belongings and go directly to the school on the marked path where they could monitor her. She gathered her purse from her Ford Pinto and felt her anger build. Not because of the lost time, but for the fact that she was subbing at a school that oozed money from every hallway. She actually enjoyed working at a school with the newer textbooks, the computer centers, and the low student–to–teacher ratio. Those things were always nice. But they reminded her of the schools of her past where she taught from outdated textbooks, where no one had a computer, and where the classrooms were filled with students — if the kids didn't stay home caring for younger siblings, or even worse, their own babies.

No. She refused to revisit that frustration. She was an educator. She taught children, and it didn't matter where she taught as long as children learned. Plus, it shouldn't matter if the children were privileged here, that they lived in an affluent neighborhood where most families had both parents. The fact that her school had lost funding and had to let her go... Well, that was unfortunate. Even with her protests and petition, she still lost her job. But such was life.

She straightened her skirt and buttoned her coat. She just wanted the day to be over with. The call had come in late the other night with a need for a substitute teacher. She thought back to the call. It had not come from her usual dispatcher, but from a man claiming to be from a different department. Either way, she didn't recognize the phone number but did appreciate more than a day's notice that she would be needed. After all, a job was a job.

She quickly walked down the path to the school, realizing that the President may be visiting the building at some point today. Again she felt a chill up her spine as some excitement built, but what were the odds she'd actually see the man?

The school's side entrance was barricaded by a row of wooden sawhorses, with a handsome man standing guard. A cool breeze blew down on her violently, causing her to run towards the main entrance. She took in a deep breath when she reached the doors and looked back to study the man who was dressed in a suit and tie. He certainly was handsome. Strong jaw, muscular build, and a certain kindness in his face. Jackie bit her lip. If he's a teacher, he's a well dressed one. He didn't even look cold standing outside. He just looked sexy. Perhaps she'd have a chance to meet him later in the day.

Then again, he could be Secret Service. They wore suits, black suits with dark sunglasses — or so she thought.

The man glanced her way and she felt the heat of his stare. His sexy gaze was enticing, but no. She looked away, remembering she had promised herself no more men — not even handsome godlike visions like him. Her plan was to give all men up until she found Mr. Right. A handsome man like this was probably a player. She didn't need the baggage, or the drama.

She entered the building and a gust of wind caught the door, forcing it from her hand. She pulled the door shut and enjoyed the warmth she found inside the building. She had only subbed at this school once before, and the place was as nice as she remembered. It felt like entering Shangri–la. The teachers wore suits and no trash lay piled up in the hallway. Not only did the school cafeteria serve delicious meals, but it also had an expensive cappuccino machine. Yes, it was the type of place that could spoil you. She didn't even worry about wearing her good jewelry to this school — not that she had any expensive pieces, but nice costume ones. Today she wore a teal, two–piece skirt set with matching pumps. The suit was one of her favorite outfits, and considering what the teacher, or perhaps Secret Service agent, at the side door was wearing, she was glad to have dressed up.

Making her way to the office, she wasn't surprised to see an armed guard carrying a metal detector wand. The entire hallway had been blocked off, making the only entrance into the school through the main office and it's side door that led into the hallway to the library. The female guard waved her over and instructed her to place her bags on the table. Next, Jackie lifted her arms and the wand traveled across her body, quietly humming as it scanned her for any weapons. Once her bags were checked, Jackie showed her ID, signed in, and was instructed to go to the library.

Jackie was now certain. The President was coming.

# Equality of Service Chapter 3

Jackie tried to catch her breath, but found the task too overwhelming. The President. Here. Just moments away. It seemed almost too much to take in. But, if what everyone was saying proved to be true, the man would be here soon.

What a day to be sub at a school! From what Jackie could tell, none of the staff was informed ahead of time. Based upon the panicked expression on the principal's face, Jackie even doubted the principal knew of the President's arrival. Though he may have just been nervous.

Jackie didn't particularly approve of this President. Heck, she hadn't even voted for the man. But she was about to meet the most powerful man in the free world. She now felt butterflies in her stomach and swallowed the lump growing in her throat. She couldn't wait to share this with her father later.

She stood in the library with a dozen teachers and school staff huddled in one corner. From her last subbing job at this school, she knew more teachers worked here than were accounted for in the library. She figured the numbers had been kept small for security reasons, which made her feel doubly blessed to have been selected to meet the man.

Her gaze darted over to the four men in black suits, each with a com unit in their ears standing formidably at the exits. Were they Secret Service? Maybe NSA or CIA. Whatever the case, the situation fascinated her.

A fifth agent led some children into the room one by one and arranged them in a circle on the floor. At the center of the circle sat a large wooden chair – obviously for the big man himself whenever he arrived.

Jackie took a deep breath. School was about to begin, and she had not made her way to her appointed classroom. How would she be able to tell which children were her responsibility for the day? She knew she subbed for a second grade class, but wasn't sure what to do next. Fortunately, she didn't have to decide on her own. A Secret Service agent waved her over and told her where to stand since she had been selected to shake the President's hand.

Her heart skipped a beat. _"Shake his hand?"_ she thought as the biggest smile crossed her face. Hell, yeah! She definitely wanted to do that.

She stood away from the circle and the wooden chair, but close to the library door itself. She wished she could be closer to where the President would be sitting, but wasn't about to complain since she would get her own moment with the man. Regardless, she still had a good view of where he would be sitting from this angle. She just hoped she wouldn't be too nervous when he approached her.

Ok, now her hands began to sweat, and she realized she was holding her breath. She dug her fingernails into the palm of her hands. Come on, girl. Get it together. He's a man like everyone else. He probably does this stuff all the time.

Maybe.

Something felt eerie to her. The agent who had brought the kids in took a post near the door and seemed to have stopped fetching more children. Another agent, who stood impressively tall and had the build of a linebacker, now approached the circle of kids. He looked from one child to the other, as though memorizing their faces. All in all, about thirty kids sat on the floor. All remained quiet.

The amount of children wasn't the school's complete complement, but not all of them would fit in the library of course. Perhaps the President would walk from classroom to classroom later. All the children, as well as the teachers, deserved a chance to meet the man.

Wait a minute. Jackie scanned the circle of children. Over half of them were children of color, with the white children sitting the farthest from where the President would be seated. Normally, not an odd sight, but this school must be at least ninety percent white, making most of the children on the floor a subpopulation of the school, with fewer than ten percent representation.

Yes, the subpopulations were all _well_ represented on _that_ floor.

Very well represented, indeed.

She studied the agent towering over them — a tall African–American man, perhaps in his fifties. A Hispanic agent had led the children into the room. And, of course, there was the female agent who ran the metal detector. She appeared to be Asian. The only white agent had been the blond man who told her where to stand.

Yeah, the token white-boy in the room.

Jackie didn't know the percentage of diversity for the Secret Service, but this room certainly seemed stacked to favor minorities. With perception being reality, she began putting two–and–two together. The President needed to appear in favor of education, as well as minority issues. She rolled her eyes. Standing there, she wasn't part of the solution — she was a part of the problem!

She suddenly heard chatter from the hallway, and then two more agents entered with members of the press. The press then positioned themselves around the room for the best camera angles. One reporter stood close to Jackie and did a sound check for her cameraman.

Her jaw tightened. How dare they use her in such a ruse!

The Secret Service must have rounded up every child matching a certain criterion and hauled them into the library so the President could put on a show for the press. Her cheeks flushed as she grew angrier at the possibility that she may be right. How come no one in the press saw through this hoax?

Well, she had seen through it. When the President walked through the door, she wasn't going to play the puppet in his show. She would give him a piece of her mind. As she waited for the President to arrive, she mentally rehearsed what she planned to say to the man. She wanted to be firm with him and to point out to the press the obvious game he was playing.

And then the moment arrived. Her hands balled into fists, her eyes focused on the door, and her breathing became even. She was determined to be a force to be reckoned with, and he would rue the day he messed with the education system and underprivileged kids.

More noise came from the hallway, and when the door opened, Jackie felt the wind beneath her wings disappear and her anger leave her body. Her muscles relaxed and she felt her legs go weak as noodles. The man who stood guard outside the school, the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on, had walked through that door. Damn. He looked good.

He stood a good six feet in height, had ebony skin like hers, with piercing brown eyes that appeared soulful and kind. His suit, not black, but a darker grey, fit him well. It made him look powerful and in charge. She watched as he spoke into a com unit, perhaps giving orders to the other agents standing nearby.

Taking a deep breath, she thought he was the most beautiful man in the world. She had even forgotten the President was coming for a visit.

With the press corps already escorted into the library, William now walked ahead of the President to get him safely into position. At first glance, William confirmed what Ben had already told him through the com units — no vampires were in the room and a human agent named Juan had positioned the children, with Ben now guarding their moods. Everything was a go.

It surprised William how quietly the group of children sat on the floor. Ben had a special gift. Not all vampires had one, and William was one vampire to prove the rule. Ben could read the auras of humans and vampires. He could even alter the mood of humans, which was evident by the angelic children circling the wooden chair.

The President walked behind William and two other agents. Another three agents followed him. The first step on the tour was to shake hands with a teacher at the school. If the plan remained intact, that teacher would be standing just to his left.

William's eyes wandered in the appointed direction. It was her. The beautiful woman from outside earlier that day. His job earlier was to carefully watch everyone who left the blocked off parking area and walked towards the school, confirming they were not a vampire. He had noticed her immediately. She was a curvy human woman, standing at an average height — gorgeous, with a smile which could light up heaven. Her bluish–green suit gave her a well polished, professional appearance, and her simple jewelry complemented her dark wavy, shoulder length hair. She appeared as a vision of loveliness.

The President nearly crashed into William, so he stepped aside and allowed the President to continue his journey to the designated spot. A man, whom William assumed to be the principal, joined them. Polite, cordial words were exchanged, and a photographer leaned in and took a picture of the President shaking not just the principal's hand, but also the teacher's hand as he made his way into the room.

It wasn't as though William focused on any of the pleasantries. He had stood security for the President plenty of times in the past, and had learned to focus on merely security issues. But then, he heard something, something liltingly beautiful. It was the beautiful woman's laugh. He focused on her gracious smile, not knowing what the President had said to make her so joyful. William found himself smiling back to her, although he remained cautious not to show his fangs.

The most important piece of information William gathered from the photo op was the angel's name — Jackie Pearlman.

It became a name now permanently etched into his memory.

# Equality of Service Chapter 4

Dry, chapped hands.

The President's dire need of hand lotion surprised Jackie. She sighed heavily as she followed the man with her eyes. She watched as the handsome agent led the President through the library to the crowd of children waiting for him.

She had planned to tell the President he had no right to create this charade. She figured she couldn't outright yell at the man, but a knowing smile and a whispered, "I know what you're doing," would have been subtle enough to please her.

But no. She grinned like an idiot from ear to ear and even laughed when he made a joke about needing to be extra quiet since they were in the library.

A backbone. She wished she had one.

Watching the President talk with the children made her skin crawl. He smiled, he laughed, he even talked with them. But as he looked in their eyes, did he understand what the kids were saying? What they needed? What they hoped their future would be like?

Now needing an antacid, she realized she needed to change her attitude. For the most part, second and third graders found it thrilling to be meeting the President, and they had every right to meet the man who had neglected equal rights in their country. Oh, the man wasn't racist — at least not overtly so. But he had canceled many bills which would have supported inner–city funding for schools, rec centers, and even planned parenthood facilities. Naturally, his religious upbringing gave him concerns over the latter one. No need to help children who were sixteen and already had baby–daddys and baby–mamas in their lives. Or, _not_ in their lives as was usually the case.

Jackie unclenched her hands, which had balled into fists. She tried to shake off her pending rage, but it proved hard to do as she watched the President talking to the future generation of America.

William stood at attention, but couldn't take his eyes off Jackie. He watched as her chest rose and fell with each breath she took; how often her eyes blinked; and he noticed she wore no ring on her finger, which was always a good sign. He liked the fire he saw in her eyes. She embodied sexiness, in a pissed off, please–me–now sort of way.

His eyes traveled from her dark hair and flushed cheeks to her full bosom. Her outfit, although conservative, did have a slight, plunging neckline which showed off her cleavage.

Staying on course, his eyes wandered down to her legs. The woman had legs 'til Tuesday. From his current location, he couldn't see how firm her bottom was but suspected she was blessed in all the right areas.

Yes. She was near perfection. The type of woman he had searched decades for. William's body now tingled with excitement. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips firmly against his extended fangs.

Oh God. Not here. Not now.

Sporting an erection in front of children, and on camera, was not putting his best foot forward. His pants became tighter as his length hardened, so he subtly confirmed his suit jacket was buttoned in front to provide some protection.

He took a deep breath and focused on his job and on the President. Honestly, looking at the old man was like splashing cold water on his libido. Nothing was sexy about a sixty–three year old man pretending to laugh with children he probably didn't care anything about.

Of course, the press went crazy. Cameras snapped pictures left and right. Pictures that now, thanks to the digital age, would show crisp and sharp images of both him and Ben. William had turned his head so he would not face the cameras head–on, which proved difficult since the press stood everywhere. He noticed Ben looking directly at the kids, obviously still controlling their behavior and moods. Every once in a while, Ben would scan the room, but his focus remained clearly on the kids.

That's why it surprised him to hear Ben's voice over the ear bud com unit. In a high pitch only vampires and dogs could hear, Ben said, "We may have a problem. Lady in teal dress. Her aura shows she is extremely upset."

None of the other agents had heard Ben's remarks. They were all human and their ears couldn't register the high pitch. William looked around for a woman in teal, which he thought was a type of green, but he wasn't sure. He followed Ben's stare so he could find her.

Why was Ben staring right at the gorgeous teacher he had just been eyeing himself? The problem couldn't have been with her, could it? William asked in the same high pitch, "The teacher the President shook hands with?"

When Ben acknowledged that was whom he had meant, he instructed William to remove the woman from the room.

A cold chill ran up William's spine and his stomach felt queasy. He hoped there was some type of mistake. Of course, he was happy to have a reason to talk with the woman, but could she mean to do the President harm? Without giving too much thought to the task, he snapped into presidential protection mode. He stepped over to the woman, touched her arm, and then whispered, "Ma'am, please come with me."

Her deep brown eyes looked up into his, and he heard a slight gasp from her. Her eyebrows raised questioningly, but he firmly escorted her from the room without another word.

# About the Author

_Dear Readers,_

_I hope you enjoyed reading this preview book for the first four chapters of the first four books of the COLONY series of sensual paranormal romances._

_These books are available as ebooks and paperbacks from the many retailers. If you enjoyed the preview, please purchase the full book. Remember, please leave a review on the retail sites._

_Please visit my website (http://www.reginamorris.com) for more information about the other novels in the COLONY Series. Feel free to contact me through my website, through my social media sites (see my website for the list) or by email at mailto:regina@reginamorris.com._

_I live in Austin, Texas with my husband and two children. I graduated high school in Germany and I attended the University of Texas at Austin, where I received a degree in Computer Science with a minor in math. After enjoying a career in software engineering, I discovered that writing is in my blood, and had to put pen to paper!_

_The opinions I express in my novels are my own. My stories are my own intellectual property. Copyright (c) 2012–2020, Regina Morris_

_Sincerely,_

_Regina Morris_

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# Also By Regina Morris

### Books in the "COLONY" Series

Vampires exist among us. They can be our neighbor, our best friend, our child's teacher...

They alter their aged appearance based upon the amount of blood they consume. They move to a new area, drink a lot of blood, and appear young. Slowly they limit their intake of blood and age, right in front of our unsuspecting eyes. After decades, they fake their death, move, and do it over and over again.

* * *

Most live quiet lives in an effort to blend in.

* * *

Some, however, want power and control.

* * *

The COLONY is an elite group of vampires sworn to protect the President of the United States from these rogue vampires. Few humans are privileged to this knowledge.

Eternal Service (Book #1)

Amazon Top 100 Bestseller

978–0–9888222–0–7 (ebook)

978–0–9888222–1–4 (paperback)

Available as an audio book.

Vampire Raymond Metcalf has too many balls to juggle and life is getting more complicated by the minute. As if working with a covert team of sexy vampires to protect the President isn't enough, he has to deal with his rebellious half-breed son, save the President from a crazed vampire, and break in a new director for his team since the last one, his best friend and the only human he trusts, has decided to retire. Why does his friend's replacement have to be the most beautiful human woman Raymond has ever seen?

Career military woman, Alex Brennan, is being offered the promotion of a lifetime, and with it a romance that she has desperately been seeking. Does she dare accept the position as Director of the COLONY, an elite group of deadly creatures of the night and risk a dangerous romance with a man who isn't even human? Together, can they save the President?

United Service (Book #2)

Amazon Top 100 Bestseller

978–0–9888222–6–9 (ebook)

978–0–9888222–7–6 (paperback)

Available as an audio book.

Sterling Metcalf is a modern–day vampire who clashes with his father's antiquated ideals. Being the half–breed of the COLONY group, Sterling hates being the team's weakest link. He jumps at an opportunity to do some fieldwork rescuing kidnapped vampire children and is accompanied by Kate Spencer, the nanny of one of the children.

Kate is a purebred vampire with a secret of her own. Can Sterling put aside his bad–boy ways and woo the lovely Kate? Will Kate accept the advances of a half–breed? Together, can they save the children from a religious cult who wants to kill them?

Enduring Service (Book #3)

Amazon Top 100 Bestseller

978–0–9914034–0–0 (ebook)

978–0–9914034–1–7 (paperback)

Available as an audio book.

Colony Agent Sulie Metcalf, the President's private physician, has been in love with the same human man for nearly thirty years. She refuses to allow herself the joy of true love because her feelings are unrequited by her human boss, Jonathan Dixon. As Dixon's retirement looms near, and his memories of Sulie and the last thirty years of his life are about to be erased, does she confront her fear of intimacy and take a leap of faith before it's too late?

Dixon has decided to retire and enjoy what time he has left. When his best friend Sulie, a vampire team member, is kidnapped during a medical emergency, Dixon realizes that retirement means giving up everything, and everyone, he's known for the last three decades. Will he risk his life, and his heart, to save her?

Equality of Service (Book #4)

978–1–948997–07–2 (MOBI)

978–1–948997–08–9 (ePub)

978–1–948997–09–6 (paperback)

Available as an audio book.

Fifteen years ago, COLONY Agent William Wardell met his future wife Jackie Pearlman. She's sexy, opinionated, and finds him to be a mockery of the American dream of equality for all.

Can a past Freedom Rider and racial activist from the 1960s, now turned vampire, prove to the love of his life that he's not a political puppet?

Reliant Service (Book #5)

978–0–9914034–2–4 (ebook)

978–0–9914034–3–1 (paperback)

Available as an audio book.

After faking his death from an assassination attempt on the President, and retiring his first and only alias with the COLONY, Daniel Brighton discovers the mandatory sabbatical to be less than exciting. He chooses to do a favor and act as a security guard for a fading pop–singer, Lori Austin, whose career is winding down. He travels across Europe with her and discovers her past to be one of deception and intrigue with a history leading directly back to the COLONY itself.

Lori Austin is struggling to keep her career alive, and is willing to do what is necessary to save it. From bad press and scandalous stories, she travels across Europe on a relief tour to revitalize her career, but doesn't realize she is traveling with a vampire. Discovering a hidden family secret, she realizes that the one man who can save her is the handsome security guard she fought so hard not to hire.

### Books in the "COLONY World" Series

These vampire romances feature vampires from the COLONY world, but these vampires do not work for the government.

Winter Wishes (Book #1)

ISBN: 978–0–9981866–0–3 (ebook)

ISBN: 978–0–9981866–1–0 (paperback)

Available as an audio book.

Sammy needs a holiday miracle. The Vampire Council is after him, he's falling in love with his best friend's mother–in–law, and there's artwork hanging on the wall that was stolen by the Nazis. Life is spiraling out of control for this Jewish vampire as he spends the Christmas holiday baking cookies and wrapping gifts for the needy.

Louise is busy with her charities and hosting her annual Christmas party. Putting a smile on her face proves difficult when her soon to be ex–husband arrives with a bimbo on his arm, her proposed divorce settlement is far from fair, and the sexy stranger she's starting to fall for believes she's a Nazi.

Destined Desire (Book #2)

ISBN: 978–1–948997–16–4 (EPub ebook)

ISBN: 978–1–948997–15–7 (MOBI ebook)

ISBN: 978–1–948997–17–1 (paperback)

Available as an audio book.

After a car accident nearly kills his immortal father, Alexander rushes to his father's side only to discover that his parents want him to marry and stay closer to home. He's already been down this path once before with a less than desirable outcome, so he refuses. He's steadfast in his decision until his parents threaten to financially cut him off and he's forced to approach the Vampire Council for a new marriage contract.

Dionora is enjoying her new job at the Vampire Council Marriage Office. The holidays take an exciting turn for her when she discovers the next match she does is for her ex–fiancé.

Revenge is sweet with this sensual romantic comedy.

### Contemporary Sweet Romance Short Stories

Taking Chances

978–0–9966192–9–5 (ebook)

Available as an audio book!

Broken engagement, a disappointed father, an emotional mother, what else could a wounded soldier ask for? Tommy has no idea that his sweet nurse remembers him prior to his injuries. Always professional, Abby treats Tommy no differently because of their awkward past. Once the truth is out, what will become of their friendship and budding romance?

Christmas Joy

978–1–948997–18–8 (MOBI)

978–1–948997–19–5 (ePub)

978–1–948997–20–1 (Paperback)

Jake needs to clear out his father's old cabin and sell it. He's prepared to deal with the freezing cold weather and the remote location, but not with the sexy woman, who was once his late father's nurse, still living in the place.

More Than Puppy Love

978–1–948997–01–0 (MOBI)

978–1–948997–02–7 (ePub)

978–1–948997–03–4 (Paperback)

Ex-wallflower, now veterinarian, Kacie Preston is eager to go to her ten-year high school reunion where she can meet up with the boy she crushed on for years. But then his dog, her patient, shows up at the event mistreated. How well does Kacie really know her old heart throb?
