Author's Rant: Ah, here we are again. Back to basics and back to the grind. This is what I'm gonna do. I'll be posting up the first several "Redux Chapters" to get everyone reacquainted with everyone, and then once everything in the story cleaned up and polished, I'll be posting this as a e-book and letting everyone know where it will be available and where they can buy it. Don't worry, it won't be expensive, but it will be the COMPLETE story. Stay tuned and read on loyal readers!

Chapter 1

Late August, Present Day

Berkeley, California

"For fuck's sake, lady! Watch where you're going!"

Jessica McKay veered her bike to the right sharply to avoid the guy who tossed a colorful array of obscenities in her direction, nearly crashing into a store front window in the process. Somehow between singing an off-key Bruno Mars Locked Out of Heaven and a NIN song she got lost in thoughts and nearly hit a middle age man on her bicycle. She threw an apologetic look behind her, but the guy continued on his way, straightening out his suit jacket and continuing his interrupted conversation in his Bluetooth headset.

Oh yeah, what a fine way to start the afternoon. Not only was she running horribly late for work, she nearly had a hit-and-run with some business person on the way. And on top of all that her roommate didn't bother to wake her—again —and she had to pedal the long-ass bike ride to work instead of getting a ride that the bitch promised since her own car was down and out for the time being. Great exercise on any other day, but she just didn't have the time today.

"Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap." Jess hissed as she checked her watch for the umpteenth time in the past five minutes and realized she needed to travel least another block in the next three minutes, or her paycheck was going to be docked. She righted her trusty mountain bike and tightened the shoulder strap on her old brown messenger bag before she dug into the pedals and took off down the sidewalk. She didn't even bother to fix the earphone from her iPod that fell off her ear as she took off like a woman with a mission.

That mission was to not get her paycheck cut any shorter.

She made it to the Coffee Shop with thirty seconds to spare.

Slightly sweating but triumphant, Jess carted her bike inside the shop while a generous customer walking out held the glass door open for her, smiling at the woman and giving her an appreciative nod. She cast a quick glance over to the main counter to see her co-worker and friend Melanie Lopez flash her a bright smile while she made an older man in a slate gray business suit his double espresso. She seen that guy come in just about every day and order the same thing like clockwork around the same time. and Melanie always knew how to make his order the way he wanted it. The girl was a bit of a savant when it came to anything heavily caffeinated. Jess was starting to believe the old guy secretly had a some sort of fixation on her, and wouldn't be the first time she seen a customer do such.

"That was a pretty nice dismount there in front of the window, chick." Melanie commented as she finished up with Mr. Business' order, fingers flying over the register keys. Jess rolled her eyes but smiled none the less, grabbing hold of her wayward curly brown mane and redoing the ponytail she hastily secured when she left her apartment earlier. She stowed her bike in the back storeroom of the shop and grabbed her maroon apron off the hook in the little cubby with her name placard and an oh-so-sorry Polaroid of her taped below it. Jess swore up and down her hair that day looked like she stuck he finger in a light socket while standing in a puddle of water.

It was store policy for all employees to have a picture taken and attached to their personal space so everyone could quickly establish name and face with their co-workers. Melanie continuously joked that it was solely done so the manager could remember, not them. Their manager Daryl was notorious for forgetting people's names, even more so since the employees continuously rotated out depending on the school semester at Berkeley. Caffeine, Wi-Fi, and college kids went hand in hand.

"I've had years of practice, Mel." Jess quickly secured her apron, tying the excess cord in the front. There were a few coffee and latte stains in the burgundy fabric around her waist where she always wiped her mishaps from her hands, but those went generally unnoticed since most patrons paid more attention to the Happy Bunny buttons she tagged the dark cloth apron with. A burst of sunshine through well put cynicism, Jess always thought.

Mel leaned against the counter with a hand, her red leather and metal studded bracelet glinting in the afternoon light, one of her perfectly lined dark eyebrows arching up. She had met Mel several semesters back during an art history class they had together, and though they looked like polar opposites they found out they had the same taste in music and movies one miraculous day during a group study session. Despite the girl and her Victorian-punk-Goth attire, which was considerably tamed while she was at work, Melanie was a very nice person to work with and a generous friend. How she got promoted to Assistant Manager last month was still a mystery though.

"I think you forgot something chick." Mel inclined her head towards the back room, making Jess halt her attempts to straighten out her appearance. Mel did nothing to hide her smug smile when the woman's face screwed up and slapped a palm on her forehead. Mel grabbed her wrist right as Jess pivoted to go stamp her time card. "Don't sweat it, it's already stamped."

Jess beamed a look of total adoration at the burgundy-brunette. "Oh, you're going for sainthood, aren't you?"

"Eh, I can't help I'm good-natured. I like to shock people with my kindness." Mel tucked a few strands of her dyed locks behind her ear, picking up a cleaning cloth and started wiping down the countertops.

Jess picked up another rag from the sink and a dishpan, walking from out behind the counter to bust several empty tables. She considered herself lucky that most of her shifts started after the lunch rush. And now since the summer semester at Berkeley just ended, she had a reprieve from her classes on top of everything. Now she just had to figure out how to get her ding bucket of a car fixed without costing another arm and a leg…and her roommate from taking her stuff and leaving the kitchen damn mess. Jess swore if it wasn't that she paid her half of the rent and utilities on time she would've kicked her out a long time ago.

But that was a silent curse that wasn't going to ever be fulfilled. She needed to save cash wherever she could since she hated borrowing from her parents, usually warranted unscheduled familial visitation from said 'rents, just to check and "see if she was okay." Her roommate was a nice enough girl when she wasn't five-finger palming everything from her, and they were cousins and all…

Jess thought maybe she was just a little too nice for her own good at times.

"Ooh, you're wearing that belt I gave you for your birthday!" Jess looked over her shoulder at Mel then down at the black leather belt adorned with triple row of metal studs that was sitting on her faded-jean encased hips. Mel had tried passionately for months to convert her over to the Goth-side of things, and had been either loaning or slipping her trinkets to try and to add to her wardrobe. So far, she's only managed to have a greater appreciation for metal belts and biker boots. Granted, Jess was already tall, standing at an athletic five-foot-ten, but something about a nice pair of platform-heeled boots just came with so much appeal. While Mel was decked out in a lavender and black lace corset, fishnet shirt and leggings, and a scandalously short pleated black skirt with knee-high black leather combat boots under her work apron, Jess was simply in a good pair of faded jeans, grey short-sleeve Happy-Bunny shirt and a pair of black, thick heeled riding boots Mel convinced her that would look good in with any pair of pants. And Mel was right about that.

Frankly Mel just had good fashion sense, even though it leaned toward a sexier and erotic side that Jess just wasn't willing to approach just yet. Jeans and comfy t-shirts were a lot easier to pull off. And it wasn't like she could readily find her taste in girly clothes that were her size AND in her price range.

Ducky for both of them, there wasn't much of a dress code at work.

"I couldn't find my other belt." Jess shrugged it off, obviously lying. Mel just smiled like a Cheshire cat.

"Whatever lies you have to tell yourself, chick. I'm just glad that the birthday present I bought you isn't going to waste and rotting inside some Happy-Bunny choked underwear drawer of yours."

Jess scoffed at her mockingly, tossing her dish towel in the dishpan on the table she just cleaned, her hand going to her hip. "I don't have Happy-Bunny underwear, Mel."

"Well there's a surprise."

"Hey!"

Mel leaned over the counter and stuck her tongue out at her. "You have so much Happy-Suff that if there was a cult you would be the founder."

Jess picked the dishpan up from the table and carried it back to the other side of the counter. "I would not be the founder, or even in the cult if there was one. Just because I have a some Happy-Bunny stuff—"

Mel shot her a look, brown eyes flashing. "Some?"

Now it was Jess' turn to stick her tongue out. "Sure are calling the kettle black Miss Goth-Queen."

"My attire is a lifestyle, not an obsession."

"Wait," Jess kneaded her right temple with the pad of her index finger, trying to hold back a grin. This was a constant debate between the two women, but it was all in fun. "So you're telling me that Happy Bunny is an unhealthy obsession, yet while squeezing into skin-tight vinyl and corsets and heavy amounts of black eyeliner and extreme hairstyles—"

"My hair isn't extreme." Mel scoffed.

Jess narrowed her eyes at her, wagging an accusing finger. "Three months ago you were a fiery red-head. And I mean like fire-engine red."

Mel opened her mouth to make a comeback but stopped, a smile curving her mouth instead, tucking her hair behind her ears like she usually did. "I did look pretty awesome as a red-head, you have to admit." she tilted her head to the side, eying Jess' curly chestnut locks. "Maybe you should try it."

That was Jess' cue to make like a bandit to somewhere else and out of her line of sight. Mel giggled as Jess ran away to the back room, but she wouldn't let her get that far. "You better not be back there putting a scarf on your head! It won't stop me and you know it."

Jess poked her head out of the back room just as Mel took up her lean on the counter again, wrinkling her nose at her. "I've learned my lesson when you burned my last one, you cow. You remember that party a couple of months back?"

Mel just grinned and raised one of her shoulders. "But you got a stylish belt in return, which I might add was more than your dollar store scarf, thank you very much."

"There is nothing wrong with dollar store scarves." Jess retorted, ducking back into the back room in attempts to get more supplies for the front, but in reality just hiding her head and the rest of herself from Mel and her aspirations for friendly "makeovers."

She never stopped trying, really.

"It was yellow. Not just any type of yellow, but poke-my-eyes-out sunburst yellow."

"It wasn't that yellow." Jess came out from back with a few bottles of flavor syrups and bags of plastic cups in her arms. "I like yellow. Not as much as you like black, but still."

"Ugh, gag me. I'd rather swear off sex for months before ever wearing yellow." Jess didn't notice the impish gleam that lit her eyes. "Y'knooow…if you like yellow...we can put some blonde highlights—"

"Hell. NO."

"Spoiled sport."

C'mon you ass…get out of the bed.

Gabriel St. John lifted his hand up to his field of vision and checked the time on his faded brown leather-strap watch, letting his arm fall across his face. Damn it… it was already six in the afternoon; he was sleeping a lot later and longer than usual. And that right there was a surefire sign that he needed to go get a bite. He fished for his cell phone from underneath his pillow, unlocking the touch screen and deftly let his thumb pound over the keys and sent a text to a contact then let the phone slip out of his hand and into the bed, which nearly whacked him in the temple.

He ran a hand through his thick raven locks and pushed them away from his eyes, slowly making his way out of the comfy bed. Truthfully, he rather stay in it for a couple more hours with the way he was feeling at the moment. All of his limbs just felt sluggish, even though his gut was starting to cramp despite the fact he just woke up. Granted, it was a simple king-sized platform bed, but the mattress wasn't anywhere near cheap, and it was soo worth it. Same went for the linen and pillows. He didn't have many comforts, but he did splurge on a select few. The simple bed wasn't the only thing simple piece of furniture in the loft he now occupied; just about everything was. It made for leaving furniture and belongings behind easier, just in case he had to pick up last-minute again and get the hell out of dodge. He scrubbed the dark stubble on his jaw with a palm and picked up his cell when it beeped at him, grabbing it and tossing back the sheets, his bare feet making no sound on the wood floor boards as he made his way downstairs to the galley-style kitchen.

When he read the new text in his cell's inbox, Gabe couldn't hold back the frustrated growl that escaped his lips. The text he got from Joe wasn't the one he wanted to see.

He needed human blood, not fucking animal blood, not now. He'd been going on that for way too long and needed a lot more nutrients that animal blood couldn't quite offer. Goddamnit, not now.

Gabe punched at the glass screen with his thumb and put the phone to his ear, shoving his hair back again. He didn't even wait for Joe to speak when he heard the line pick up. "What do you mean you don't have any human blood? You said that you would have the 'hook-up' the next time I needed a few pints. And surprise, it's 'next time.'"

Joe gave an indignant snort on the other end of the line. He could also hear him working at his keyboard as he usually was. "You're not the only special client in this metro—"

"Yeah, but I'm one who pays pretty damn well, Joseph." Gabe hissed. He was glad he was talking to him over the phone and not in person; if he even felt a hint of that cocky attitude that Joe usually gave off he'd barely be able to keep his own temper in check. His body had craved human blood for months now, which only got worse as the weeks had ticked by. No matter how much pig's blood or how many rare steaks at Outback—which were a lot, and tended to scare the waitress' when he ordered enough to feed two guys his size—he needed a bit more than that. He didn't know how much longer he could suppress nor deny the inner beast inside what it really wanted. He was good at controlling his hunger, but no vampire was that good, not unless they were really old.

"Look dude, I'm sorry. I miscalculated how many pints I would be able to sneak out of the blood bank. There were too many traumas that needed Type-O this week since the bank has been out of type specific for a while now."

Gabe closed his eyes and leaned up against the steel-door fridge, raking his free hand through his disheveled hair. "I don't need to know the details of your day-job."

"Touchy, as usual I see."

Gabe knew his eyes were silver instead of their usual blue when he opened his eyes again at the telltale tingle in the back of their sockets and that nerve that worked in his temple. "If you make me break another damn phone I'll take the few pints I need out of you."

"Hey now there buddy, I'm just a lab tech, who, by the way, is expecting a kid. So please no homicidal tendencies my way." He heard the clicks of the keyboard halt. "I get enough out of my wife."

Gabe reigned in his flaring temper, something that he didn't need to get out of control considering his more empathic nature. He needed to control his temper. Needing human blood or not, he needed to control his temper. Out of all the talents possible for a vampire to receive, he had to inherit empathy.

There was always the 50/50 chance for those converted to gain what some called The Gift. His, a nice fraction of the time, was a curse. He felt more from others around him. It didn't matter if it was man or vampire, and on the rare occasion beast, it was all the same. And it was a bitter irony that never passed his notice. As a mortal he had always been emotionally numb, and now it was only through years of concentration and honing that he could actually not let what he felt from others affect him. Though by knowing the wide spectrum of all the possible emotions, he could blend in just that much better with human society and go undetected.

He slowly counted to ten in his head before he spoke again. "Look, is there any way you can get a few pints out? At this point I'm willing to throw in an extra thousand."

Joe sighed heavily. "I'm sorry Gabe, there's no way I can. Least not this week. Hey, maybe you can talk to some of the others in town?"

"That's not an option Joe. We tend not to want to share what we have." Gabe wouldn't dare resort to asking others in the city. Vampires weren't generally territorial individuals to certain extents, but those uptown aristocratic assholes with their Versace suits and Prada bags tended to think they deserved the better treatment and had all sorts of Squatter's Rights.

The sad thing was though; he was probably older than the lot of them.

"Shit dude, I don't know what to say." Joe paused, doing a bit more typing before speaking again. "Um—Linda is making lasagna tonight…y'know, you're always welcome to eat with us. She makes plenty too."

Gabe sighed quietly and looked out the large windows of his loft. There wasn't any spectacular view or anything, it was just the other buildings opposite of his, but he could still see bright afternoon sunlight spilling down into the street below past the half-open heavy drapes. Smug as he might be at times, Joe always tried to extend the olive branch of friendship his way, and Gabe always declined. He didn't want to make hard friendships with mortals, hadn't in years, because when he had to disappear again he didn't want to have to worry about them. It was just easier that way. He still remembered a time last year when Joe actually brought Linda with him on a routine transaction. He had been absolutely livid about the invasion of privacy, even more since he told his wife about his "other job", but was totally taken off guard when she gave him a huge loaf of banana nut bread, muffins, and an assortment of other home-baked goods.

She didn't even know him, but gave him all that stuff with nothing more than the most honest of intentions. He had picked up no ulterior motives from her emotions…she genuinely wanted to befriend him, just like her husband desired.

He didn't want people to get close, not anymore. It was just better that way.

"Ah—no…it's okay. I'll figure out…something. Don't sweat it for now. I can last a few more days if need be."

"I'm really sorry about this…just don't tell Rainer I fucked this up. He'll give me shit until I die."

"Like I said, don't sweat it." Gabe moved over to a cupboard by the fridge and peered inside, picking up a canister of Maxwell House and gave it a light shake, grumbling and rolling his eyes heavenward at the sound of the small measuring scoop hitting a whole lot of metal. For fucks sake, what else couldn't he get? First blood, now caffeine—not turning out to be the best start to a day.

"Dude, you sure do grumble and growl a lot."

"Try being in my place for five minutes then come back with that question…fuck, I need coffee."

Gabe heard Joe give a smug chuckle, which he knew couldn't lead up to any good. "What you need is to get laid. When was the last—"

Gabe hung up the phone before the urge to toss it across the loft against a wall caught him. Joe was as annoying as Rainer, and almost just as cocky.

Rainer just had countless more years to perfect it. A lot more years. Though he's known the cynical vamp for the last three centuries give or take a decade, he still couldn't quite get into the other man's head. Or even take a guess at his age; Rainer always says he's "just really friggin' old." It was Rainer who had sent him information on mortal handlers who were loyal to him through the centuries, mortals who knew of their existence and aided him with getting human blood or a myriad of other special needs if so desired. Every time he relocated Rainer always made sure wherever he went he could live inconspicuously as possible and blend in with the world and live, and he had always offered to help get him out of the situation if he tired of his cat-and-mouse run.

Gabe was a hunted vampire after all. An exile.

He kept the small hope that they would just leave him be. But for nearly three-hundred years his old coven has proved to be one helluva determined bunch.

Breaking out of his reprieve Gabe slid his phone on the granite counter and left it in the kitchen and made his way to the bathroom, trying to think of a plan to get blood without having to go to another vampire in the city's doorstep. He could just imagine that unbelievable scene:

Hi, you don't know me, and I barely know of you, but could you spare a couple pints of some O or A negative? I'll even pay ya' a couple of bucks.

That would either get him laughed at, hit, or worse, shot. None were anything he aspired for. He didn't associate with other non-humans mostly for two reasons: 1) They held their own loyalties, and 2) They never did anything without proper compensation. Others could easily sell him out to his former coven.

Rainer was probably the only individual he could trust despite his annoying wit, immortal or otherwise.

Besides, it was Rainer who gave him the grand idea to leave the coven in the first place.

Gabe made quick work of a shower and shaving off the previous day stubble. He had just pulled a black t-shirt on when he heard his cell doing a dance on the kitchen counter and buzzing like an angry hornet. He finished pulling a pair of socks and shit kickers and laced them up before making his way back over to the kitchen to answer the text message. A dark eyebrow jerked up when the screen flashed and showed two messages.

One from Joe again.

And another from Rainer.

He put precedence in the message from the older cynical bastard. And when he read it he felt his heart skip a beat.

Company mite b coming been hearing rumors they're on the move. Mite have to pack in a few days.

Gabe quickly text him back.

Be certain and make sure. Don't fuck around.

It took less than a minute for a reply.

Luv u 2, & not joking. I'll reply back when I have more info.

What else could go wrong today? It seemed like all he was getting was a big resounding cosmic fuck you from the universe. Gabe replied back then shoved his phone in his jeans pocket, grabbing his motorcycle keys off the kitchen counter with his wallet. Right now, he could at least fix one screwed up situation, and that was getting some java in his system.

Maybe then he could formulate a better plan on getting a few pints of blood.