Eyes of Ice

by J. C. Andrijeski

  “I’m guessing this creates a bit of a confusing mental quandary for you,” Nick said, continuing his graceful, occasionally sped-up movements, stalking closer to the other vampire. “I mean, harvesting vampires… that must be tough, when most of your family has joined the enemy clan.”

  Nick spoke louder, seeing the vampire’s eyes flicking back down towards Wynter’s exposed throat.

  “…That’s how it happened, isn’t it?” he said, sharper. “One got away. Or one had a mate. They found brother Raphael, and threw a wrench into your little family-owned business of murdering vamps for the cause. That’s how it went, right? But you were able to use that at first. After all, who else but a vampire could find you an almost unlimited number of other vamps? Especially after he got that contract, working for Farlucci. Right? Every fight night, he could use his fighter’s cred to offer jobs to poor, desperate vamps. Then he and Gabriel had an alibi at the rings, while you and your hirelings could scoop them up, one by one, drug them––”

  “We were performing a service,” the vampire hissed. “A service for the race!”

  “So why not let me kill you?” Nick said. “Or better yet… let the humans inside that house kill you. You know, the ones torturing your brother right now to get him to tell them where you and brother Gabe are. Why not let them kill you? They’re human…”

  The newborn was shaking his head.

  “No,” he growled.

  “You’ve gotta know you can’t fight this,” Nick said, frowning. “This won’t go away, brother. It’s kind of a permanent deal––”

  “Don’t fucking call me that,” Michael snarled. “My brothers are good men––”

  “Except the one that’s a vampire.” Nick held up his hands in mock apology. “And the one who just went to the vampire store to feed his two vampire brothers––”

  “Raphael has been atoning!” Michael snapped. “He atones! Every time he picks up a new shipment of you bloodsucking demons––”

  Nick laughed outright.

  “Right,” he said. “Sure. Because I didn’t see him at the fight club that night, ‘recruiting’ for your harvest while he drank fresh blood and tried to talk me into a threesome with a human woman he thought I was fucking––”

  “Shut up!” Michael snarled, yanking Wynter deeper into him. “Shut the fuck up! It was an act! He was acting––”

  “Sure he was.”

  When the other vampire only stood there, hissing at him, Nick rolled his eyes. Walking forward, he held out his hand.

  “Give me the knife, brother.”

  The vampire dragged Wynter backwards, hissing and growling at him louder.

  Nick couldn’t help but tense when he smelled a shock of hybrid blood.

  He looked down, and saw that the fucker had cut her with the knife.

  The smell filled his nose, making him light-headed.

  He’d never smelled her blood before.

  Not once.

  His fangs extended, even as he growled at the other male.

  “You lay a fucking finger on her, and your quest for redemption is over, brother,” Nick said. “I’ll kill you so fast, you won’t even have time to kiss your God goodbye before the guy from downstairs comes for you…”

  He could feel it, though.

  His words weren’t doing shit.

  They weren’t doing anything, not anymore.

  The newborn could smell Wynter’s blood.

  He could smell her hybrid blood, and it was driving him fucking insane. Nick felt it, even before the snarl rose in the other male’s throat and chest.

  Nick’s own throat erupted in a snarl.

  Panic exploded over him.

  He saw the newborn staring at Wynter alone now, at the trickle of blood running down her throat. Her skin looked oddly pale in the dark, contrasted with the blood, the heat of her veins. He could feel the newborn reacting. He could feel him losing control––

  “NO!” Nick held up a hand, shouting, fighting to get the newborn’s eyes back on him. “GODDAMN IT, NO! I swear to the fucking gods, IF YOU HURT HER––”

  The snarl once more erupted from the other’s chest.

  Nick saw it coming.

  He saw it even as he leapt, knowing he was already too late.

  The vampire dropped the knife, forgetting about it as he lowered his fangs.

  He sank his teeth into Wynter’s neck as Nick leapt, snarling. The snarl came out of a part of Nick’s chest he’d never felt before. So much kill-instinct flooded his limbs, veins, muscles, he struggled to think at all.

  He had to think, though.

  He had to.

  Even as he leapt, terror filled him.

  If he yanked the newborn off her the wrong way, he’d rip out Wynter’s throat.

  If he miscalculated the angle the other had his fangs in her, he’d kill her.

  He’d rip out his own goddamned girlfriend’s throat––

  All of that ran through his mind as he closed the distance between them.

  He ended up doing the only thing he could do.

  He grabbed Wynter along with the vampire, taking them both down to the ground by knocking the vampire off balance.

  He landed on the street on top of Wynter, the vampire’s fangs still attached to her throat. Snarling, he fought to see, to see the angle the teeth went in, so he could wrench them out. He didn’t have much time. He had to get him off her. He had to get the newborn off her before he took too much.

  Before he killed her.

  Before he killed Wynter.

  Frantic, Nick snarled, gripping the male newborn by the hair––

  He dropped his weight, pinning them both down. He stared at the newborn’s mouth, fighting to ignore his throat moving in long, urgent, satisfied swallows, staring at his teeth, trying to see the exact angle––

  When suddenly, the body under him when limp.

  Now just limp.

  It was like it… broke.

  Nick felt pieces of it breaking under his fingers and weight.

  He felt it, but knew he hadn’t done it.

  Shocked, half-disgusted, confused, Nick tried to climb off the body as it seemed to splinter under him. He stared down at the newborn’s face, and saw his features soften, blur… then slide, like he’d just had a stroke, or like a giant shot of Novocain just relaxed every muscle.

  It wasn’t just the muscles though.

  The bones… the very bones of his face seemed to dissolve.

  Nick froze, staring down at the male newborn he now held in his hands.

  The head lolled where he held him, his neck as soft as his face. His arms remained mostly firm, but his face and head looked disturbingly soft, like most of his skull had turned to jelly under the skin. The vampire had released Wynter, and she shrieked, fighting to get free of the newborn’s sprawling limbs.

  She yelled so loudly, Nick realized the newborn had cut off her air before, preventing her from making a sound while he fed.

  She was gasping now, struggling like a trapped animal.

  “Get him off me! Get him off me! GET HIM OFF ME, NICK!”

  “I’m trying!” His panicked voice mirrored hers, even as he gripped her hair in his hand, fighting to calm her down. “I’m trying! Hold still, baby! Please! Please, hold still!”

  She fought to do as he said, panting, her eyes wide with fear.

  Nick lifted the vampire’s head, gripping him tightly by his long, dirty-blond hair.

  He did it carefully once he realized the vamp’s fangs were still intact, still latched onto her throat. As soon as he could see the angle of the fangs, he pulled them carefully out of the holes in Wynter’s neck.

  The holes promptly bled, making him instantly hard.

  He let out an involuntary groan, closing his eyes, even as Wynter writhed out from under the now-dead newborn, clamping her hand over the wound in her neck. She was breathing hard, her breaths coming out in sharp whimpers, a sound that conveyed something between disbelief,
anger and an intense flight instinct that unfortunately turned Nick on even more.

  He was still on the ground, kneeling over the brother who now lay there, his bones and flesh still feeling disconcertingly broken under Nick’s weight… when Nick’s mind finally caught up with the rest of it.

  Newborn Michael was dead.

  Nick stared down at him, at the milky eyes of the vampire.

  He grimaced at his face, at the jelly-like skull and flesh.

  Panting in some combination of vampire emotion, relief and confusion, he glided up to his feet. He moved fast enough, predatorily enough––vampire-like enough––that Wynter stepped back from him in reflex, without taking her hand off her throat.

  She stared at him, eyes wide.

  In those few seconds, she looked at him like she didn’t know him.

  He watched her eyes go from him, to the dead vampire in the street… to the red-haired human who Nick realized for the first time was also dead.

  Nick didn’t have to check Gabriel’s pulse to know that.

  He could smell it.

  He smelled dead.

  Watching his girlfriend look at the human he’d killed, clearly trying to absorb everything that had just happened, Nick knew. He knew without a shadow of a doubt.

  She’d seen him feeding on Gabriel.

  She’d seen him do it, and probably seen the human’s hand on his cock.

  His chest hardened, painfully that time.

  “Wynter––” he began, gruff.

  But he didn’t get any further than that.

  Another set of voices shattered the silence.

  “Hands up!” Several voices spoke at once. “HANDS UP! BACK AWAY FROM THE BODY! BACK AWAY FROM IT… NOW!”

  A male voice sharpened above the others.

  Harsh, authoritative.

  “Put your hands up right now! Both of you! Final warning!”

  Nick turned his head, right as lights seemed to come on all around them. Spotlights shone on them from the opposite side of the street, along with headlamps from military vehicles, flashlights, headset lights, hand-helds.

  The cavalry had arrived.

  Staring around at all the men and women in Archangel private-sec uniforms, Nick found he understood something else.

  He knew exactly how Michael had met his end.

  His eyes found her, even as the thought sank in.

  Those ice-blue and silver eyes met his as the little girl stepped forward, absurdly small, wearing a child’s version of the combat clothes worn by everyone else.

  Looking at her, Nick felt vaguely sick.

  When he glanced at Wynter, he saw her staring at the kid, too.

  He saw her stare at Tai, then at him, and he found himself wondering which of the two of them bothered her most.

  Chapter 29

  Just A Girl

  When they led Nick into the penthouse, his was the first face Nick saw.

  Maybe that’s why.

  Maybe it was just because Nick saw him first.

  Either way, he didn’t think.

  Wrenching free of the hands holding him, he wound up and swung without a single speck of reason clouding any aspect of his judgment.

  He also didn’t feel any regret––not before, during, or after he’d done it.

  His fist connected with the seer’s jaw, lightning fast, snapping his head sideways even as Nick landed back on his feet, still in a fighting stance.

  He might have hit him again, but two voices rose behind him.

  One sounded angry.

  The other sounded afraid, and not for Malek.

  It was the second one that pulled Nick back.

  “NICK!” Wynter yelled. “STOP!”

  He froze.

  He heard Tai yell his name only in retrospect.

  The baby seer had already run for her brother, and when Nick froze at the sound of Wynter’s voice, she inserted herself between Nick and Malek, grabbing her brother around the waist and dragging him back, out of Nick’s immediate range.

  “Don’t, Nick!” she scolded him angrily. “He didn’t do anything!”

  Nick stood there, fighting back a snarl.

  He didn’t move, though, or try to get through Tai to get in another hit on Malek.

  By then, he’d already determined the source of Wynter’s fear. He saw the guns that had risen around him, aiming at his body, the laser targeting systems making a series of red dots over different parts of his torso.

  They wouldn’t kill him, not like that.

  Still, it would hurt like hell.

  Moreover, he couldn’t do that to Wynter.

  As it was, he had more to answer for in that area than he was really ready to deal with yet, mentally or emotionally.

  Tai glared at him at that, too.

  Turning her ice-blue eyes on Wynter, she glared at her next.

  “It’s your fault,” she snapped at Wynter, startling Nick enough that he jumped. “You wanted to come. You can’t be mad at him… you wanted to come. I heard you! I heard both of you! He wanted you to go to the train. He was right and you were wrong. You should have made him leave with you! He would have listened to you!”

  Wynter blinked at the little seer.

  From her expression, she was clearly as taken-aback as Nick.

  “No,” she said, after that blink, still staring at Tai. “He wouldn’t have, Tailaya.”

  “YES HE WOULD HAVE!” she shouted. “YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING!”

  “Tai,” Nick growled. “You can’t talk to her like that. And you’re wrong. She’s right and you’re wrong––”

  “You shut up!” she snapped, turning her angry, little-kid glare on him. “I told you to leave! I told you I’d handle it! I told you to trust me and leave!” She looked at Wynter, then back at him. “It’s both of your fault! Both of you! You wouldn’t listen to me when I told you to go! I had everything under control! They would’ve never bothered you again!”

  She glared at Wynter again, her anger even more concentrated when it came to her school principal for some reason.

  “You should have made him leave.”

  Nick frowned at her.

  He and Wynter exchanged looks. Wynter’s eyebrow rose along with Nick’s, but neither of them spoke before turning their eyes back on Tai.

  “Don’t hit my brother again!” Tai snapped, glaring at Nick. “Don’t hit him again!”

  Nick held up his hands, flushing in spite of himself.

  “All right,” he said.

  “Promise!” Tai snapped. “Promise you won’t!”

  “I promise.” Nick glared at Malek, but crossed his fingers over his heart. “I won’t hit him again, Tai. I promise.”

  She stared up at him, her silver-blue eyes suddenly overly bright.

  She stared into Nick’s face, and he could only stare back, watching helplessly as tears ran down her face. She burst into a sob for real then, and released her brother, running from the room.

  Nick stood there, watching her go.

  When he heard a door slam in some other part of the penthouse, he turned his gaze on Malek.

  The seer stared back at him with his mismatched eyes, his expression wary.

  He looked afraid, Nick realized.

  He looked afraid of him.

  “I won’t hit you again,” Nick growled, holding up a hand in a seer’s peace gesture. “But I want to talk to you, asshole––”

  “Detective Tanaka!” Lara St. Maarten’s voice rose, shaking with anger. “You will be silent. You will be silent right now. Or I swear on my family’s name I will have them hit you with so many tranquilizer darts, you won’t wake up for a month… and you won’t remember your own damned name, when you do wake up…”

  Nick’s eyes and head swiveled.

  He stared at her, half in incredulity, focusing on her face where she stood at the top of the stairs, a few feet above all of them.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but again, Wynter spoke before he could.

/>   “Nick. Shut up.”

  When he turned, aiming his incredulous look at her, Wynter folded her arms, wincing from the bandage on her neck as she jerked her chin towards Lara St. Maarten.

  “She means it, Nick. She’ll do what she said. Can’t you see that?”

  Nick stared at her.

  He looked back at St. Maarten.

  Then he glanced around at the ring of black-clad private-sec soldier boys and girls who still had their guns aimed at him.

  Closing his mouth with a snap, Nick scowled.

  Stalking deliberately over to an empty piece of furniture on one side of the room, he sat down on the body-conforming chair, and propped his ankle on his knee.

  Sitting there, still scowling, ignoring the red laser dots still patterning the blood-spattered front of his shirt, he looked around at all of them, making a flourishing gesture with his hands and fingers, one that roughly translated as, Well?

  Lara St. Maarten reacted first.

  Exhaling in obvious anger, she turned to her private-sec people, waving them off with a hard, jerky motion of her hand.

  “Wait outside,” she told their leader, a male human who wore full riot gear. “I think he’ll behave. If not, you’ll hear from me.”

  She turned her glare back on Nick.

  “…Believe it.”

  Nick waited, watching as the black-clad mercs filed out of the penthouse living room, the same one he’d been brought into by St. Maarten’s private secretary, Veronica Racine, the first time he’d been allowed into Phoenix Tower.

  When the door clicked shut behind them, Ms. Lara St. Maarten exhaled, glancing at Malek, then motioning for Wynter to sit as well.

  Wynter’s jaw hardened.

  After a bare pause, she walked directly to Nick, and sat on the arm of the chair where he’d planted himself, close enough that he felt himself react at once. He knew that might have been her intention––maybe to calm him down, or maybe just to keep him from doing anything that might escalate tensions between the four of them more.

  Or maybe something altogether different.

  Maybe to make it clear where her loyalties lay.

  When he glanced up at her that time, she smiled at him. He just sat there, bewildered, when she took his hand, pulling it into her lap.

  Fighting not to think about the fact that he was still covered in the blood of the human he’d killed, not to mention Wynter’s, and that newborn vampire, Michael’s, he aimed his eyes at Malek and St. Maarten, who had seated themselves by then. They sat next to one another, but not as close as he and Wynter, filling up part of the same couch where Nick more or less first met them both.