Wounded Soul

by Annabelle Jacobs

  JESSE LEFT CATE in the staff room and walked out into the bar. Her replacement gave him a knowing look as he passed, and Jesse shot her a wink in return. Let her think what she wanted. At least it might explain why Cate looked exhausted.

  After Cate had concurred that they could probably trust Blake not to immediately turn them all in, she’d agreed to call him, to feel him out before telling him the truth. The whole call had set Jesse’s teeth on edge, but he’d stayed silent, trusting Ian’s faith in his friends. Satisfied Blake’s priorities lay with Ian over work, Cate had told him and conferenced Ian in to the call.

  Blake couldn’t see Ian for himself, but he took Cate’s word for it. The rest of the call had gone exactly as expected—a repeat of telling Cate, tears included.

  The most important part though, the only thing Jesse cared about, was that Blake had agreed to meet them and take Ian somewhere safe until this mess was sorted out. Then he could take Ian in and get him properly registered, hopefully without jeopardising his job.

  I just need him away from the coven. Away from Peter.

  He called Lys as soon as he was outside the bar. “Hey,” he said when she answered. “I think that went about as well as expected.” She hummed down the phone. “Did you hear it all?”

  “Yeah, Ian put his phone on speaker, bless him.”

  Jesse heard Ian’s protests in the background, and he smiled. “Leave him be, he’s still adjusting.”

  “You should’ve been teaching him useful shit instead of whatever else you two were up to while I was gone.” Lys’s voice was laced with amusement. “Anyway,” she said, serious again. “We’re gonna sneak out in a sec. You’re sure it’s safe to meet there?”

  “As safe as anywhere. No one’ll bat an eye at Blake and Cate turning up at their best mates house, and Ian lives there, so . . .”

  “Fine. Assuming traffic is light, we’ll meet you there within the hour.”

  “Okay. Be careful.”

  She tsked. “Of course.”

  “And don’t leave me alone with Blake too long.” He glanced at the passers-by, checking no one was paying him undue attention. “I don’t want him changing his mind and arresting me instead.”

  “You didn’t tell Cate that you—”

  “No.” He hadn’t wanted to go there yet. He and Ian had only mentioned Peter and allowed both Cate and Blake their assumptions. “I’ll tell them the truth when Ian’s safe.” They’d never have agreed to help him if they’d known he was the reason Ian was a vampire.

  “Take care,” Lys whispered.

  “You too.”

  They hung up and Jesse glanced around him, wondering what to do for an hour while he waited for Lys and Ian to get to Ian’s flat. The bar was out of the question. Cate would be none too pleased to see him back in there now she knew what he was.

  The flat that he technically owned, along with a couple of the others from the coven, was only a thirty-minute walk. Less if he jogged. Might as well make use of it.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Ian watched with growing nervousness as Lys searched through the pockets of her jacket for the second time.

  “Where the fuck are they?” She threw it onto the bed and ran a hand through her hair. “I put the car keys in my bloody pocket before I left my room, I know I did.”

  “Could they have fallen out in here?”

  “I don’t see how.” She walked over to the door, then began to retrace her steps. “I came in, took my jacket off, and tossed it onto the arm of the chair.” The chair in question was over the other side of the room near the window, where Lys now stood. “If they’d fallen out, we’d have heard them and be able to see the fucking things now.”

  She turned to face Ian, expression apologetic. “Shit, I’m sorry Ian, but I’m going to have to run back to my room to get my spare set.”

  He stared at her, doing his best not to snap. Jesus, it wasn’t like they had anywhere important to be or anything. How could she have forgotten or lost something so integral as fucking car keys? “Hurry,” he said, trying not to sound pissed off. “We told Jesse we’d be there within the hour.” They’d already wasted ten minutes.

  “I know, and it’s okay to be mad, Ian. I’m furious with myself.” She rushed towards the door. “I’ll be as fast as I can.” She was out the door in a blur of movement, and Ian rushed over to lock it behind her. The last thing they needed was someone uninvited popping in now.

  He tried not to count the minutes, but he couldn’t help checking his phone repeatedly, anxiety building with each minute that ticked by. “Come on, Lys.”

  If Ian remembered rightly, her bedroom was one floor below them, almost directly underneath. With the speed she moved, it shouldn’t take long for her to run down, grab her keys, and run back up.

  Another minute passed and Ian started to pace in front of the window, the blackness calling to him. They should be out there already on their way to meet with Jesse.

  He debated letting him know they were running late, but then Jesse would worry. If Lys came back soon, they could probably make up the time. Allowing an hour’s travel time had been generous for this time of night.

  Another minute passed, and Ian wished he’d thought to get Lys’s fucking phone number. “Where are you?” he hissed, tapping his phone against his thigh. Almost a full eight minutes had passed since she’d left the room, and worry began to creep in. Maybe she couldn’t find them? Maybe someone had stopped her on the stairs?

  Fuck it.

  He was going to have to call Jesse.

  With a sinking feeling, Ian scrolled through to Jesse’s number just as he heard the key slide into the lock. “Thank fuck.” Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Ian grabbed his coat and marched towards the door. If they ignored the speed limit, they could still get there—

  The door opened and Peter raced in, slamming it shut behind him and charging straight at Ian.

  “What the—” Too late it registered what was happening and Ian tried to dodge Peter’s advance, but he was way too slow.

  With a strength that took Ian by surprise, Peter grabbed him and threw him. Ian’s head snapped back, hitting the outside wall with such force that blackness coloured the edge of his vision as he crumpled to the floor.

  Fuck no, I can’t pass out.

  He’s gonna kill me.

  Pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, Ian expected another assault any moment, but his vision swam, nausea making him clamp his mouth shut, and with all the will in the world, he couldn’t stand up yet. Bracing himself, Ian took deep breath after deep breath, old habits kicking in, and waited for the room to stop spinning.

  Peter’s shoes appeared in his line of sight, and the next moment he was being hauled to his feet and pushed face first into the wall. Something cold and heavy snapped around his wrists, and Ian hissed in pain because that fucking burnt.

  “Sorry,” Peter whispered. “That’s going to smart.” He lingered, his lips lightly brushing against the shell of Ian’s ear. Ian tried to flinch away, but Peter held him in place by his arms. “Those are iron cuffs, laced with silver. You won’t be going anywhere. Especially not to meet up with Jesse.”

  Ian froze.

  Peter stepped back, slipping Ian’s phone out of his pocket as he went. “I think I’ll take that.” He manhandled Ian until he was facing him. “And yes, I know all about your plan to throw me to the wolves.” He waved Ian’s phone in the air, lip curling up into a sneer. “Did you honestly think we’d just hand your phones back and that would be that?” He shook his head when Ian remained silent. “How fucking stupid can you get?”

  Ian glanced towards the door, willing Lys to hurry the fuck up. Now would be a great time for her to come back and take care of Peter like she promised she could.

  Peter followed his line of sight, a slow smile spreading across his face. It made Ian’s stomach drop.

  She wasn’t coming back.

  “Fancy losing her keys.”

  Ian tr
ied not to react, but a gasp escaped him anyway.

  Peter reached into his pocket and drew out a set of car keys. “Was she looking for these?” He laughed when Ian’s eyebrows shot up. “I’ll let you into a little secret.” He leaned in close like someone might overhear. “Way back before I became a vampire, I used to be a pick-pocket.” He shrugged. “Some things you never forget.”

  “She’ll be back in a sec when she can’t find them.” He forced himself to sound nonchalant, like he had every faith that Lys would be coming through that door any second. Even though instinct told him she wouldn’t.

  Peter tsked. “I think we both know she’s not coming. Well, I certainly do. An iron stake through the chest is a bitch to try and heal from.”

  Impossible as it was, Ian’s heart felt like it stuttered, his chest suddenly too tight as fear gripped him. “You killed her?”

  “That depends if anyone finds her before that wound becomes fatal.”

  Fuck.

  Ian lifted his chin and squared his shoulders as much as he could with his arms he restrained. He refused to show Peter how terrified he was right then. “You gonna kill me now?”

  “No.” He grabbed Ian by the shoulder and dragged him towards the chair, shoving him unceremoniously down into it. The metal rubbed over his wrists, sore from the constant burn of the silver. “Plans have changed.” With both hands on the arms of Ian’s chair, Peter leaned forward. “I’m still going to kill you, probably, but first you’re going to help me with something.” He stood and pulled his phone out. “I’m just waiting for a call.”

  He grinned at Ian as it started to vibrate in his hand, then answered it. “What the fuck happened to your eyes?”

  Michael huffed. “Bitch sprayed me with something, but we’ve got her.”

  Peter glanced up at Ian, smirk in place, and Ian felt the room close in.

  That motherfucker.

  “Did she give you any trouble other than that?” Peter asked, gaze still fixed on Ian.

  He tried to get up from the chair, but Peter merely reached out and pushed him back into it, like swatting a fly.

  “No,” Michael answered. “Simon got her from behind. It was disappointing not to have to use more force.”

  Peter laughed. “Maybe you’ll get your chance later if Ian fails to deliver.” He turned the phone around to show Ian the screen.

  He had Michael on FaceTime, eyes red and watering, but it was little consolation.

  “Show him,” Peter ordered.

  Michael flipped the screen around to show the backseat of a car. Darkened windows kept the outside world at bay, but sat there, eyes wide with terror, was Cate. Whoever sat beside her held a long, serrated blade to her throat. One flick of their wrist and they’d slice through her skin.

  Peter looked at the screen and frowned. “I hope they’ve already eaten. One nick from that blade and who knows what might happen—”

  “Stop,” Ian gritted out. Cate’s eyes met Ian’s and his heart broke. “What the fuck do you want?”

  Peter abruptly ended the call with Michael and retrieved Ian’s phone. He held it out in front of him for Ian to see as he scrolled through the numbers, settling on the one he wanted. “You’re going to make a phone call, and you’re going to be convincing.”

  “And if I don’t?” Ian asked.

  “Then your charming friend Cate becomes dinner.”

  “They’ll catch you.”

  Peter laughed. “Who? Your friend at the VLCD? He’ll be devastated to find out one of his best friends turned vampire and killed his other BFF. Tragic, really.”

  Ian bared his teeth, wanting to sink them into Peter’s neck so badly they ached. “Jesse was right. You really are an egotistical wanker.”

  Peter’s smile never wavered. “Such high praise from one who would know.” He tapped the phone. “Now make the call unless you want Cate’s last thought to be how you let her down?”

  Ian forced his fangs away and glared at Peter, having no choice but to do as he said. “Fine.” He closed his eyes and tried to centre himself. This was going to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Please forgive me Jesse. “Call the number.”

  BORED WITH WATCHING the news, Jesse grabbed the remote and turned the TV off then checked his phone.

  Almost time.

  He’d hoped Ian and Lys would’ve got to his flat before he had to leave and meet Blake; he’d sent the text twenty minutes ago asking them to come there instead but they hadn’t arrived and hadn’t replied to his text either. There were a couple of signal blackspots on the way from the coven to town, but they should be well passed them by now.

  He dialled Lys’s number, then tried Ian’s when hers went straight to voicemail. Ian’s did the same. For fuck’s sake, what was going on?

  Unease settled low in his belly, instinct telling him something had gone wrong. Had Peter got to Ian? Surely Lys would’ve called him if something had happened to him?

  Fuck it, he needed to get back to the house.

  They should’ve just gone to the VLCD in the first place, consequences be damned.

  I’ll go meet Blake, tell him Ian’s in danger, and get him to call his VLCD buddies to meet them at the house.

  Hopefully they wouldn’t be too late.

  Grabbing his keys and wallet off the table, Jesse shoved his phone in his pocket and headed out.

  Pulling the front door open wide, he looked up and promptly froze.

  He should’ve paid more attention.

  Should’ve listened to his instincts.

  Should’ve checked the CCTV before leaving the flat.

  The six guns pointed in his direction couldn’t mean anything good.

  “Hands where we can see them, Sykes,” Harper barked at him, seeming miles away from the friendly officer who’d shown Blake around the coven the other night.

  Jesse slowly raised his hands. “Is there a problem, Detective Inspector?”

  “Yep, you could say that.” He motioned to the other officers next to him. “If you so much as twitch, they’ll fire. And I’m sure you don’t want that.”

  Jesse winced.

  No, he fucking did not want that.

  At one time the vampire police used to use silver bullets, which burnt like acid, but you could usually dig them out in time before they killed you. Now they’d developed a new range of weapons that—rumour had it—began to eat away your flesh on impact. Jesse’s skin crawled imagining the damage one bullet would do, let alone six.

  He stayed perfectly still. “I don’t plan on moving a muscle.”

  “Sensible decision.” Harper gestured towards two of his men. “Secure him.” They hurried forward, cuffs out, and Jesse allowed himself to be manhandled until his face pressed against his front door, arms yanked roughly behind his back.

  A sharp hiss escaped him as the silver-laced iron fastened around his wrists, irritating the skin. The silver was annoying as his body repeatedly tried to heal itself only to be burnt again and again, but the iron was the real pain in the arse. For whatever reason, whatever properties—magical or not—that it held, it rendered him no stronger than a human.

  In these cuffs he was at their mercy.

  A trickle of fear crept up his spine as they turned him to face Harper.

  “Jesse Sykes, you are under arrest for the murder and subsequent changing-against-his-will of Ian Moreton.”

  “What?” Fucking hell. Jesse searched the faces looking back at him until finally his gaze landed on Blake. The hate and disgust in his eyes were clear to see. Jesse had spoken to him less than an hour ago. What the fuck had gone wrong in that time?

  “You’re making a mistake,” Jesse tried to reason, his voice surprisingly calm. “I didn’t kill Ian.” He left out the admission of changing him. No point giving them information until he knew what they already had.

  Harper stepped forward, drawing his phone out. “How do you explain this then?” He turned the screen towards Jesse and shoved it in his face. The ph
oto was remarkably clear and there was no mistaking Jesse, crouched over Ian’s prone body and glaring back over his shoulder fangs bared. Looking for all the world like he was about to bite him.

  Jesse remembered that moment. He’d been glaring at fucking Peter. Michael or Simon must have taken the photo. Bastards.

  Clenching his fists so his hands wouldn’t tremble, Jesse met Harper’s gaze. “I know how that looks, but I didn’t kill him.” Harper looked less than convinced. “It was Peter. He sent me a photo of Ian on the ground in that alley. When I got there, he was already dying.”

  “Why didn’t you call an ambulance?”

  “Because there wasn’t time.” Jesse snapped. “Peter had left him too close to death. They wouldn’t have got there in time. He had a few minutes at most.”

  “So you decided to turn him instead.”

  “No!”

  Harper’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re denying turning Ian Moreton into a vampire.”

  Jesse hesitated a fraction of a second, but it was all Harper needed to see the truth. Jesse caved. “No, I turned him. But it was an accident.”

  “Of course it was.” He motioned to his men and they grabbed Jesse by the arms. “That’s an interesting story, Sykes, and we’ll be looking into all aspects of it while you join us back at the station.” Harper sighed and shook his head. “Take him to the van.”

  Oh fuck, they were gonna put him in one of their cells. “Wait. Call Ian, ask him what happened.” He hadn’t wanted to involve Ian yet, but the cat was out of the fucking bag now.

  “We’ve already spoken to Mr Moreton.” Harper’s eyes were like ice. “Where do you think we got the photo?”

  No. No, no, no.

  “How could he take the fucking photo if he was almost dead?” Couldn’t they see he was being set up?