The character development absolutely explodes into a fireworks display of nuance as Flynn begins to realize his calling and as a result is thrown headlong into conflict with vampires, other seers, sorcerers, and himself.
– M.R. Graham

Second Book of The Vampire Flynn Series
From USA Today Best Selling Author Peter Dawes

Formerly titled: Rebirth of the Seer

Abomination. Rogue. Murderer. Hero?

The Supernatural Order guides and trains any vampire hunter who manifests the gifts of a seer, but Flynn is far from a typical recruit. His bloodstained reputation leads their High Council to hand him a death sentence, not wanting to gamble on the supposed rehabilitation of a vampire assassin. His watcher, Monica, refuses to leave him to his fate, and they must avoid capture while deciphering a riddle left by Lydia Davies. The mission takes them from Philadelphia to the Windy City of Chicago, with a master seer named Julian nipping at their heels.

As Peter emerges from the crimson shroud of his alter ego, he can’t deny that the Order’s fears are well founded – he’s still a vampire, with a vampire’s needs. Finding common ground between his dual natures seems impossible, except in one forbidden thing. Monica’s presence draws out his almost forgotten humanity, while tempting the immortal who remembers the intoxication of blood cascading down his throat.

With one foot still in the dark and one in the light, Peter must keep his fangs hidden and his past a secret. Their few human allies can’t be trusted with the truth. Their immortal enemies would either kill him or use him as a pawn in a war he has no intention of fighting. Even the woman who believes in him has an agenda, to show him what it means to be a savior rather than a devil. Only one thing truly remains certain. Seer or assassin, good intentions or dark desires, his hands wield a sword with the precision of a capable killer. And when his deceptions unravel, those skills will be the only thing keeping him alive.

“I wish I knew what the hell you were thinking,” I said aloud, “Fucking altruistic witch. First, you allowed yourself to be bitten on my account, and now you take a bloody stake to the chest. If I did not know better, I would think you suicidal.” Sighing to myself, I continued running. A plan, a plan… Damn it, I was going to need a plan when I arrived at the hospital. Would I pass her off to the first person I found? ‘Yes, and how do you plan on explaining the stake, you daft seer? ’ Frowning at myself, I cycled through who I could trust and where I should hide, but time ran out before I could decide on a course of action. The lights of Broad Street rushed upon me, and with them, the signs pointing to the emergency room entrance. “Hold on a bit longer.” I glanced down at Monica and frowned. “I shall make certain you are tended to.”

My eyes lifted toward the sliding glass doors leading into the hospital. Throwing caution to the wind, I charged forward, not missing a beat even after the doors parted and granted me entrance. The triage nurse bolted to a stand when she saw me head directly for the area past the waiting room. Another man – broad-shouldered and tall – clamored to his feet as well from behind a desk I did not recall there before. He wore a navy blue uniform with a badge affixed to his chest.

Splendid. A security guard.

I paid no further mind to either. Kicking the door at the metal bar, I sent it flying open and continued onward. The security guard caught the door as it closed. Patients and doctors spun around to take in the sight of a pale stranger charging through with a bleeding girl. I caught the eye, though, of the one person I sought in all the chaos.

The heavy-set nurse took a double take and frowned when our eyes met. She stepped forward, though, and intercepted me just as the security guard closed within feet of us. I paused long enough to watch Chloe raise a hand and block him from proceeding any further. “I’ve got this one, Rufus,” she said.

His eyes flicked toward us and returned to her. “I expect to hear what the holy fuck this is all about afterward,” he said, his face contorting in a scowl. I turned my back on both. Heading for an empty room, I disappeared inside and set Monica down just as Chloe entered behind me.

The door shut with a click. “Christ on a cracker,” Chloe said. “What in God’s name happened to her?”

I turned to face my old friend, regarding her for the first time since my unfortunate encounter with a gang of unruly vampires. The skepticism in her eyes spoke volumes. “Chloe,” I said, indulging in a deep, steadying breath and shutting out her confused thoughts. “I know you are aware now of what manner of being I am. And I would not fault you if seeing me again is troubling. This girl shall die, though, if we do not help her.” I turned my sights to Monica, as though stating her condition aloud demanded I listen for her pulse before I could look to Chloe once more. Her frown deepened as I continued speaking. “I need this room and your help.”

She glanced at Monica again, bringing a hand to her mouth. Her eyes widened with epiphany. “Good Lord. Please don’t tell me that’s what I think it is.”

“A stake, yes, and obviously intended for me.” My gaze turned solemn; my tone of voice, plaintive. “More hinges on this girl’s survival than you can begin to know. Forget what I am for a moment and think of me as Peter, if just for her benefit.”

My words hung pregnant between us. Chloe’s eyes jumped between me and Monica before she finally sighed and nodded. “Okay, what do you need from me?”