The Redeeming

by Jennifer Ashley

  And yet Melanie at the No More Nightmares office had known right away that Samantha was half demon. “But they leave you alone?” Tain asked her.

  “Yeah, they do, which is weird. Sometimes I think I should go to one of their stupid meetings and tear out the throats of half of them, but it’s not worth getting staked for. But I could do it.”

  Tain knew she could. The petite young woman in the belly-dance veils and jingling sash could take out this entire room if she wanted to.

  “Where do they have their meetings?”

  Vonda wrinkled her nose. “You aren’t thinking of joining, are you?”

  Tain shook his head. “Just curious.”

  “I don’t know. Seriously, I don’t. I don’t want to know.”

  “Could you find out?”

  Vonda gave him an assessing look. “What would I get if I do?”

  Tain thought of his empty pockets, but he knew this vampire girl wouldn’t be tempted by money. “What do you want?”

  Her eyes darkened. “A sip of whatever kind of blood is riding through your veins.”

  Tain shook his head. “My blood wouldn’t be good for you—too much life magic will kill you.”

  “I’ve done life-magic creatures before.” Vonda’s look turned coy. “Werewolves are especially good. They say they hate vampires, but when they really want one . . .”

  “I’m not a werewolf.”

  “No? What are you, then? Chameleon?” Chameleons were similar to were-creatures, except they were humans who could take the form of any living being. They didn’t become that creature in the same way a shapeshifter like Logan became his animal self; they were still human no matter what animal they resembled.

  “Call me a guardian,” Tain said. “Have any demon or vampire girls disappeared from around here lately?”

  Vonda considered. “I don’t know about disappeared, but a few have moved on. That happens a lot. Girls come and go, and they don’t always leave a forwarding address.”

  “Is there a place around here that’s different somehow?” Tain asked. “Maybe a place vampires and demons are afraid to go?”

  Vonda gazed at him in sudden suspicion. “Why do you want to know that?”

  Tain kept his voice gentle. “Because I don’t like people who deal in fear. I want to know what the No More Nightmares people are doing and why. Is there such a place?”

  Vonda gave a grudging nod. “All right, I have heard weird stories about a canyon not far from here. But if I tell you about it, you really do need to give me something in return. I don’t work for free.” She reached up drew and a finger across Tain’s left cheek, the one unmarked by his tattoo. Her eyes grew sultry, filling with true desire.

  Tain brushed her hand away. “I have a lover,” he said. He tightened when he thought of Samantha, her warmth, her eyes as dark as this woman’s, but filled with laughter and heat.

  Vonda grinned. “Sweetie, that doesn’t stop anyone here.”

  “It stops me.” Tain’s firm tone put a disappointed look on her face. “What I will do, though . . .” Tain took her hand again and sent a trickle of healing magic through her.

  When she’d touched his face, he’d felt the taint of a weakening spell, one she strove to hide. A witch could have put it on her, or rival vampire or customer—it was hard to say—but the spell was slowly killing her. With one touch, Tain broke and removed it.

  Vonda stared at him in shock. She touched her own cheek, eyes widening as she realized the spell was gone. “Thank you.” The words were the sincerest she’d spoke all night. Then she smiled again. “Are you sure you don’t want a little extra fun?”

  She looked hopeful, but Tain shook his head. “I’m sure. Now, how do I get to this place?”

  Samantha rode in Septimus’s ultra-luxurious limousine to a five-star restaurant in which corporate presidents made international deals and big-name producers wined and dined investors. Samantha had conceded to the limo because Septimus refused to tell her the name of the restaurant, and she truly wanted to know what he had to say. Information from a vampire boss was worth a little secrecy. She’d called Logan to tell him of the meeting—liking someone to know she would be with the most powerful vampire in California—but she hadn’t been able to reach him. She left him a message and, in the limo, checked her own messages and found none.

  Samantha scrolled to where she’d saved Tain’s cell phone number and let her thumb hover over the “Call” button. She wanted to push it, to hear his Welsh-accented voice answering. She wanted to say to him, even if she had to leave a message, I miss you.

  Samantha sighed, turned off the phone, and dropped it back into her purse.

  The wait staff at the restaurant knew Septimus, who’d booked a small private room for himself, Kelly, and Samantha. The maître d’ guided Samantha through the dining room to the back as though she were a celebrity gracing them with a visit.

  Septimus stood up when Samantha entered. Samantha was relieved to see Kelly O’Byrne with him as promised. The actress was sitting in the cushioned chair at Septimus’s table, looking as stunning as ever. Kelly never seemed to make extra effort with her makeup or clothes, but she was always poised in her understated but hideously expensive wardrobe, ready for whatever camera might flash at her.

  Kelly greeted Samantha warmly, holding her hands. She owned the house next door to Leda and Hunter, and Samantha had come to know her somewhat over the past year. As usual, Kelly wore a silk scarf around her neck to hide the bites of her vampire lover. It had become a signature look, imitated by her fans.

  “Do you mind if I stay?” Kelly asked. “If you’d rather talk to Septimus alone, I can go.”

  Samantha squeezed her hands. “No, please.”

  “Ms. Taylor doesn’t trust me,” Septimus said dryly.

  Samantha slanted him a weary glance. “It’s more that I don’t want to explain to my lieutenant why one of her detectives was treated to dinner at a chichi restaurant by a vampire boss. If I say I was here for my friend Kelly, things get easier.”

  “Of course.” Septimus gestured Samantha to sit, and then flicked his fingers for a waiter to come and pour wine. Then he ordered for the three of them, which annoyed independent Samantha, but since he was footing the bill, she decided to say nothing.

  Samantha studied Septimus as she drank her wine—which was smooth and rich. He had black hair pulled into a modest tail at the base of his neck, a hard face that still managed to be handsome, and a broad-shouldered body that nicely filled out his thousand-dollar suit. He kept his dark blue eyes slightly averted from both Samantha and Kelly, and even the waiter, because one look into an Old One vamp’s eyes could mesmerize a person into doing and saying anything Septimus wanted.

  Samantha found herself comparing Septimus with his pristine suit and smooth manner to a man who wore a worn duster over a T-shirt and jeans, and who didn’t mind pinning people with an intense blue stare. She decided she preferred hacked short, unruly hair to the tamed style Septimus wore, a white-hot life magic aura over the inky darkness of an ultra-powerful vampire.

  Septimus waited until the first course was served then bade the waiter shut the door behind him and not return until called. Septimus reached into a briefcase and pulled out a file, which he laid beside Samantha’s plate.

  Samantha flipped the file open. “What’s this?” She expected something about the demon disappearances and deaths but instead found herself looking at a photo of Tain. He was walking away from the camera, sunshine on his duster coat and thick red hair.

  The next picture was of him entering the building where No More Nightmares had an office. The following photo was one of him strolling by the gate of the matriarch’s compound. Then more pictures showing Tain in various places around the city, and then pages of notes in cramped handwriting, containing dates and times.

  “What is this?” Samantha repeated in a hard voice.

  “A record of Tain’s movements since he first arrived in Los Angeles,” Sept
imus said.

  Samantha looked up at him in angry surprise. “Why?”

  The vampire took a casual sip of wine. “Adrian asked me to keep an eye on Tain, although I don’t believe he meant for me to be so detailed. That, I took upon myself.”

  “Why?” Samantha asked again, voice hardening.

  “Because Tain is unpredictable. I wanted to make sure I knew what he was up to while he was in my city.”

  Samantha firmly closed the folder. “He’s been helping me on this demon case.”

  “A case he brought to your attention in the first place. I’m showing this to you for a reason, Ms. Taylor. I think Tain is more involved in it than he’s let on.”

  Samantha’s heart beat faster. “Explain.”

  Septimus toyed with the stem of his wineglass, while Kelly looked on, her look both sympathetic and concerned. “Tain has been seen in the vicinity of every incident you’ve investigated,” Septimus said. “He was spotted near the locations where each of the demon prostitutes disappeared. He unerringly walked into the alley where the demon girl Nadia was returned. He was seen near the matriarch’s mansion before she was found dead, and breaking into the offices of that No More Nightmares place yesterday evening.”

  Samantha felt brittle. “You’ve done a thorough job. If you know so much about Tain, where is he now? What’s he up to? Do you have satellite photos?”

  Septimus took her outburst calmly. “He was last seen heading east out of San Bernardino, and after that, I considered him out of my jurisdiction.”

  “If you’re that worried about him, why did you stop tracking him?”

  “I wasn’t tracking him, as you say. I was making sure he wasn’t getting himself into trouble down here while his big brother worries in Seattle. When Adrian gets worried, bad things happen to those of us of the death-magic persuasion. If Tain goes around the bend again, Adrian will hold me partly responsible.”

  “So you were covering your ass, is that it?” Samantha asked angrily.

  “I don’t like what I found any more than you do . . .”

  Samantha cut him off. “Have you sent this report to Adrian? Told him Tain’s committed the crime of walking the streets of Los Angeles?”

  Septimus looked pained. “I haven’t said a word to Adrian. I wanted to show you first.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if it means nothing, I won’t have pissed off five Immortal warriors who carry very large swords. If it is something . . . You’re paranormal police—it’s your job to take care of problems like Tain.”

  Samantha clenched the hand that rested in her lap. “If Tain has gone insane again—and I’m not saying he has—why do you assume I can take care of him? I’m nowhere near as strong as his brothers, or you for that matter.”

  “Because you helped him before,” Septimus said in a matter-of-fact voice. “His mind was completely gone up there in Seattle, and yet he looked at you, talked to you, even flirted with you, I’ve been told. I don’t think it was a coincidence his brothers were able to restore him shortly after he met you. Or that Cerridwen chose you as the witch whose body she’d enter during the battle.”

  Samantha drew a breath. “I think you’re optimistic about my influence over him.”

  “I think he’s right,” Kelly said softly.

  Samantha glanced at Kelly, who looked sympathetic but pragmatic then back at the file, her throat tight. She didn’t want these pictures of Tain near crime scenes to be anything but coincidence. She didn’t want to face the fact that, if Tain went insane again, if she lost him, it would devastate her.

  She thought of his phone number saved on her cell phone—if she’d called him when she’d been tempted to in the limo, would he have answered? She’d stilled her hand because of Tain’s last question to her—Do you trust me?

  I have to trust him. Otherwise my love for him is nothing.

  Samantha wet her dry mouth. “What do you want me to do, follow him and drag him back to Los Angeles?”

  “I wanted you to be aware what he is doing,” Septimus said. “You can keep the file. Use it as you wish.”

  Samantha gazed at the brown folder for a long moment, then she nodded. She knew Septimus wasn’t handing her the only copies of the photos and information—Septimus likely had everything double and triple backed up.

  The waiters entered at Septimus’s signal with perfectly prepared plates of food, but the scents, which should have been heavenly, made Samantha a bit queasy. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have much appetite.”

  “I quite understand,” Septimus said.

  Samantha stood. “I have to go.”

  Septimus gave her an imperceptible nod and beckoned to one of the waiters. “Have my driver take Ms. Taylor home.”

  Samantha would have preferred a taxi, not in the mood for another muffled ride in Septimus’s dark limousine. But Kelly gave her a warm hug, then the maître d’ ushered Samantha out before she could argue, taking her all the way out of the restaurant to the open door of the waiting limo.

  She didn’t want to return to the Malibu house and a curious Hunter and Leda, so Samantha told Septimus’s driver to take her back to the police department. There she could sit in isolation at her desk, study the file Septimus had given her, and decide what to do. The last thing she wanted was Hunter calling Adrian and his brothers and saying they needed to round up crazy Tain again.

  No, the very last thing Samantha wanted was for what was in the file to be true—that Tain was taking his revenge on demons one at a time, starting with the most helpless and working his way up to the matriarch. She remembered how easy it had been for him to kill the demons at Merrick’s club—two blasts of his lightning magic, and they’d been solidly dead. No butchering necessary.

  But, she realized when she reached her desk and spread Septimus’s notes and photos over it, that Tain had to be closely involved in all of this. The time stamp on one of the photos put him outside the matriarch’s mansion just before her death.

  Samantha stared at the photo and put her head in her hands, wondering where the hell Tain was now.

  Ed dropped Tain off about midnight on the dirt road Vonda had indicated, but neither Vonda nor Ed would get out of his truck.

  “You sure?” Ed said, leaning on his arm out the window. “It’s spooky out here.”

  Tain gave him a nod. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, alright. Give me a call if you want a ride back. See you.”

  Tain raised his hand in farewell, and Ed’s truck screeched around and rolled away, bathing Tain in exhaust and dust.

  This stretch of road was deserted, an unpaved washboard that rolled with the contours of the land. A mountain ridgeline rose high and sharp to the east, the moon filming the landscape with silver. The white desert floor showed the black outlines of creosote and stunted Joshua trees.

  At the end of this road, Vonda had said, was the bad place, but she wouldn’t be more specific than that. She’d never seen it, but she’d heard stories of people going there and never coming out.

  By people Vonda had meant death-magic creatures. Tain, boiling over with life magic, walked down the road with a little more confidence.

  His boots stirred puffs of white dust but nothing else moved in the stillness. It was a fine night, cool though not sharply cold, and the moon lighted everything well. But he heard no noises of night creatures—coyotes, owls, bats, snakes—only silence and the crunch of his boots on rock.

  The road ended at the entrance to a box canyon, its walls rising sharply from the desert floor. Hardy thistle bushes clung to minute ledges all the way to the top. An obvious path led inside the canyon, and Tain followed it.

  The canyon wound with the wash that had formed it, the very bottom of the wash’s bed damp from runoff from the last rain. As the walls closed off the open desert behind him, Tain felt a faint diminishing of his magic that he at first thought was imagination. But as he went on, the sensation grew stronger, a definite suppression of the power inside
him.

  Perhaps this was what Vonda meant—that the strong natural magic of vampires and demons was negated here. If so, whatever field or spell hung over this place squelched all magic, both life and death, which was unusual.

  Tain drew one of his swords and kept walking. The interior of the canyon was even more silent than the open desert—not an insect moved across the rocks. The moon, high overhead now, showed him the blank end of the canyon, a wall pock-marked with man-made openings.

  He craned his head to study the sides of the canyon, finding the telltale evenness of cliff dwellings in natural fissures, houses that had been built hundreds of years ago, out of the reach of coyotes and wolves. He wondered if the ancient Americans had chosen this place precisely because its negating field had kept them safe from magical creatures.

  Tain sensed another taint over the place that was more recent, as though someone had taken the repressing properties of the canyon and twisted it for their own purposes.

  He scanned the cliffs, magically searching for any living thing. He felt as though he were trying to swim through deep water, the effort to send out even a small thread taking much strength.

  His thin tendril of magic touched something only about ten feet above him, a life, single, alone, powerful. Tain also sensed that many others had been here, felt their gloating, their glee.

  He thought about what Nadia had reported—when she’d been held captive she couldn’t shift into her demon form or gain her demon strength. Samantha had thought drugs had suppressed her ability, but in a place like this, where all magic, including powerful demon magic, was weakened, ordinary human beings would have the advantage.

  Tain pulled out his cell phone. The picture he’d asked Leda to put as his wallpaper was one of Samantha—Leda had taken it at a family gathering this summer and had sent it to Tain. Samantha’s face was slightly turned to the left, but her dark eyes had fixed on the photographer. Sunshine gleamed on her black hair, and she smiled a subtle half-smile, as though she knew a secret she wasn’t about to share.