Ravenous

by Forrest, V. K.

  “Babbo, where are you going?”

  “Where do you think?”

  “No, you stay here. I’ll find Prince.”

  Liam groaned inwardly. Exhaled. “No. Both of you go inside and lock the door.” He pushed the duffle bag into Mai’s hands, making no attempt to sound pleased. “I’ll find the dog.”

  She looked up at him with those big, dark eyes and long lashes. “This isn’t your problem. You don’t have to—”

  “Just get him inside. Finish packing what you need. The dog couldn’t have gotten far. He’s got short legs.”

  “Call him nicely,” Corrato insisted as his daughter ushered him toward the back door. “He won’t come if you’re not nice to him. He’ll think you’re angry with him and he’ll run. “

  “I got it.” Liam raised his hand.

  It wasn’t hard to catch the scent of the little runt. It had not been kidnapped by Donato’s killer as feared but had merely wandered across the backyard in pursuit of fresh bunny. Liam picked up both scents right away and followed them down an alley, across a street, and into another yard.

  The night air was chilly and it made Liam grumpy. It would be a wet ride home on his bike tonight. The smell of rain was in the air and it was damp. Thick, dark clouds hung low in the sky’s canopy and there was no moonlight. He had half a mind to just head for home. He could probably call Kaleigh and get her to steal Arlan’s truck and come get him. There were others in Clare Point he could call. There would be no questions asked. At least not until tomorrow.

  After all, who was he kidding here? He was no rescuer of women in distress. He didn’t even want to rescue the stupid dog. He didn’t want to protect Mai or her father. He was just curious as to what had happened to the dead old man. Professional curiosity. That, and he wanted to screw the HF. That was all it was about.

  “Prince,” he murmured, feeling like an idiot. As if he had conjured up the storm clouds himself, rain began to fall. “Come on, boy.” He was getting close. The rabbit had run in one direction at this point; the runaway dog had gone another.

  At the corner of a six-foot-tall wooden privacy fence, he spotted a place where a board had been broken or kicked in. The hole was just big enough for a rat terrier to squeeze through. The dog had gone that way. He rolled his eyes. Of course it had. . . .

  Liam had the ability to morph into almost any animal he wanted. Reptiles were hard, but in a tight spot, he could even manage a crocodile or a Gila monster. He’d have no problem slipping under the fence if he was a cat or a small dog.

  He used the gate instead.

  The minute he entered the fenced-in yard, he heard the guttural growl of a big dog. The growl was followed by a small yip.

  “Puh-lease,” Liam muttered. On the opposite side of the yard, he spotted a big-ass pit bull. It had the Prince of Dogs cornered. The pit bull growled viciously and the terrier yipped back, the fence behind him, making his final stand.

  As Liam crossed the bare dirt yard, he tried to avoid the piles of dog doo. A pleasant scent as it mixed with the falling rain. It smelled like it had been a long time since grass had grown here or someone had bothered to clean up the animal waste. It was a crime, people who kept their animals locked up like this. It turned them mean. He could hear the meanness, the deep sorrow, in the pit bull’s growl.

  As he walked, he scanned the ground for a weapon. Leaning against a rusted clothes pole was a three-foot-long piece of two-by-four. He picked it up. “Okay, back off, big boy. I take the Prince of Dogs, I get out of here, and you go back to . . . whatever a dog does in a forty-by-forty space,” he said, using his best dog-negotiator’s tone.

  At the sound of his voice, the pit bull looked over its massive, muscular shoulder and growled at Liam.

  “You don’t want to go there,” he muttered. “Trust me.”

  Realizing Liam was a true threat and the terrier was only a potential snack, the pit bull turned around, baring its teeth, staring with lifeless eyes.

  “Just walk away,” Liam suggested, motioning with the two-by-four. “And no one gets hurt. You, in particular, don’t get hurt.”

  The dog, the size of a small Volkswagen, lunged without warning. That was the problem with caged animals. They were unpredictable. Liam considered giving the canine a little tap with the two-by-four, but midair, he realized he’d have to break the board over the canine’s head to so much as get its attention.

  So he morphed.

  The Bengal tiger was an impulse. He could have just become a bigger pit bull than the VW and called it a day. But that seemed a dull option. The two-by-four went flying as Liam felt his body convulse. One minute he was leather jacket and waiter pants, the next, fur, stripes, and teeth.

  He scared the hell out of the pit bull. They collided in midair and with a snarl, Liam brought one great paw across the dog’s shoulder. His claws barely connected, but the dog howled with pain and terror. They both hit the ground at approximately the same time. Four paws to the ground, Liam prepared for the dog to come at him again, but instead, it took off, headed for a plastic igloo doghouse. It yipped all the way to the shelter and crawled inside.

  Easy enough, Liam thought. Then, flicking his tail, he sauntered toward the rat terrier. To his surprise, the little dog didn’t run and cower, but instead, threw his shoulders back and bared his needle teeth. Well, of course, the dog was afraid of a tiger. How many tigers did he know?

  Liam morphed back to his human form. “Okay, Prince,” he said, glancing in the direction of the lights in the house. Fortunately, they had the TV so loud, they hadn’t heard their dog barking or the Bengal tiger kick its ass. “Let’s hit the road, Prince,” he said, trying to sound nice.

  The terrier bared his teeth again and barked furiously.

  Liam groaned. It wouldn’t take long for the pit bull to realize the tiger was gone and he’d been replaced by a man. “Prince! Come on, damn it! It’s raining out here and I’m standing in a pile of dog shit.”

  But he wouldn’t come.

  Liam glanced over his shoulder toward the gate. How did he get himself into these things? He knew the easiest way to get Prince home, but it was so . . . emasculating.

  He gave the “nice dog” speech one last time. The dog took a step toward him, on the offensive now. If Liam wasn’t careful, he was going to get bitten.

  “Fine,” Liam muttered. And morphed.

  Prince took one look at him and lunged forward. Liam raced off. He hopped across the yard, through the hole in the fence, down the street, and into the alley that ran along Mai’s property. In the corner of her yard, just out of the circle of light from the porch lamp, he let the rat terrier get almost close enough to catch a mouthful of rabbit dinner and then he morphed. One minute he was a brown bunny, the next, a vampire hit man, pretending to be an antiques dealer, scooping up a rat terrier.

  Either Prince had figured out Liam was a shape-shifter and it was best to go along with the plan, or he was so confused that he didn’t have time to react. At the back door, Liam knocked.

  Corrato was there in an instant, pushing the yellow curtain aside, peering through the glass window. “Prince!” He unlocked the door.

  Liam stepped in and pushed the dog into the old man’s arms. “Mai,” he called, “I’ve got him. Let’s go.”

  “Thank you, thank you,” Corrato said. “We’ll never forget this, Prince and I. We got your back.” He waggled a gnarled finger under Liam’s nose. “You remember that.”

  Mai walked into the kitchen, shutting the lights off behind her. “Thank God. Thank you, Liam.”

  “So, you ready?” Standing in the doorway, Liam stuffed his hands into his pockets. He was cold now, wet from the rain. He just wanted to dump them off at Cousin Suzy’s and get home. On his bike. In the rain. With dog shit on his boots.

  “We’re ready. Babbo, let’s go. No, don’t put Prince down. Just carry him to the car.” Halfway across the floor, she stopped and wrinkled her nose, looking around the kitchen. “Does it smel
l like wet cat in here?”

  Mai stood at the window of Suzy’s living room, watching through the narrow opening in the drapes. Despite the pouring rain, Liam took his time walking to his bike. She felt bad that he was driving home in the rain. She’d offered to give him a ride to Clare Point, bring him back tomorrow to get his bike, but he seemed eager to just get out of Dodge.

  Not that she blamed him. She’d be anywhere but here right now, if she had a choice.

  The whole situation was crazy. It was crazy on every level imaginable. Uncle Donato murdered. The death threat. How could her life have turned upside down so quickly, just because she agreed to let an old man in failing health move into her home?

  She watched Liam mount his motorcycle and pull the black helmet over his head. He was good-looking. More than good-looking—he was make-your-heart-thump-and-your-panties-damp hot. Those couple of kisses they had shared today were probably the best kisses she’d had in her life. She’d felt a connection with Liam from their first meeting, but when his lips touched hers, it was as if he was touching a part of her that no one had ever touched. As crazy as it sounded, even in her head, it was as if he could reach her soul.

  Good kisser aside, what had possessed her to make him her knight in shining armor? Again? The first time, she had called him on impulse. But today, it hadn’t been impulse. She’d hung up the phone after the death threat, thought about it, and decided not to call the police, but to call him.

  What made her think she could trust him?

  She just knew. It was something in his sad, dark eyes. She had seen right through his tough exterior the day she met him in his antiques shop. He played a good enough game, but not good enough to fool her. He had a good heart and somehow, from the moment she met him, she had known he was the kind of guy you could depend on. No matter what.

  So if he was such a good guy, why would she put his life in danger?

  Chapter 7

  Liam stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets as he walked down the sidewalk midday on Friday. The rain had stopped around two in the morning. He’d awakened around then, breathing hard, covered in sweat. Despite the bright sun shining on his face, he felt chilled, even now, as he remembered the dream. Or maybe relived the moment. After a while, it was all the same.

  That night in Paris, he’d fluttered on the wings of a raven between the bars, through the open window, into an outer hallway of the Gaudet palais. With no one in sight, he had returned to his human form. His mind worked at its best, at his quickest, when he was human. His human thought processes were still accessible when he was an animal, but he also had to deal with all the instincts, fears, and desires of that animal, which made situations more complicated. He needed no complications that night.

  The tiled hall had been stacked with boxes, confirming his intelligence reports from spies, hired by the sept, to infiltrate the suspects’ home, business, lives. The Gaudet brothers were going out of town, which was the reason he’d decided to pay a visit tonight, without sept final approval for the kill. He understood the need for bureaucracy, even among vampires, but sometimes the wheels of bureaucracy turned too damned slow, which was exactly how these men had avoided arrest and prosecution by the authorities all these years. If he let another day go by, Liam was afraid the murdering pedophiles would slip out of his hands and into hiding. The downside of going in without the sept’s blessing, besides risking being tossed off the Kill Team, was the danger of having to go in alone. But he refused to put his fellow team members at risk of being punished alongside him. It was kind of the definition of going rogue, wasn’t it?

  But alone in the hall that night, he’d had second thoughts. What if something went wrong? What if he was able to capture only one brother and not the other? Surely they had a plan for a breach of security on the scale he was about to create; he had known these kinds of men long enough to know there were always backup plans.

  The children would be slaughtered.

  Witnesses were never a good idea. Especially victims of sexual abuse. Which meant Liam couldn’t fail.

  It was at that point, as he crept down the hall in the darkness, that his anger had begun to build. There was never room for anger in the workplace, but with his job, it was crucial that he remain emotionally removed. If Liam had any regrets about what he did that night—which he kept telling himself he didn’t—but if he did, that’s where they began.

  He remembered tightening his jaw. His fists. He could feel his blood pumping, throbbing in his veins. Heat in his face. All those innocent kids, dead or damaged for the rest of their lives.

  When he came around the corner and unexpectedly met a guard, Liam sprang without hesitation. The guy drew a pistol, equipped with a silencer, from his waistband. Apparently the Gaudet brothers were always respectful of their neighbors.

  The guard, a big, burly guy with a ridiculous Hitler mustache, was quick enough. But there weren’t many of God’s creatures quicker than an enraged vampire. The rule was self-defense, but no needless killing. When Liam flew into him, he’d fully intended to follow the rule. He knocked the pistol out of the brute’s hand and sank his teeth into his fat neck.

  The moment the blood rushed into his mouth, Liam tasted the foulness of it. The children. He tasted the children on his lips and it almost made him vomit. He’d have rather drunk sewer water. Apparently a perk of working for pedophiles was that you got your own opportunities.

  Guilty. A sin punishable by death.

  Too disgusted to drink enough blood to kill him, Liam pulled out his knife and cut the bastard’s carotid artery. As he shoved him backward, he saw the fear in the guy’s eyes and he was glad he had frightened him. He was glad his last earthly emotion would be terror. He was glad he was the one who had sent the Frenchman straight to the gates of hell.

  Up to that point, the dream had been an accurate account of what had happened that night, but then he’d heard the screams and the blood had begun to ooze from the stone walls.

  In truth, the screams hadn’t come until later.

  “Liam?”

  He looked up, startled for a second. He didn’t remember walking up her sidewalk or ringing the doorbell. “Peigi.”

  “I was around back raking leaves. Didn’t you hear me? I hollered for you to come around.” She pushed open the screen door. She lived in a pretty turn-of-the-century cottage painted a light turquoise, just one block off the beach. “You mind if I rake while we talk?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  As they walked through the bright, cheerful house decorated in white wicker, yellow chintz, and Georgia O’Keeffe floral prints, he heard the distinctive sound of a video game coming from down the hall.

  He glanced in the direction of the sounds of machine-gun fire and hand-grenade explosions. “You play a lot of ‘Call of Duty,’ Peigi?”

  She wrinkled her nose. She was a small, stout woman with gray hair. Her haircut was a sensible short style, her clothing equally sensible. She had always looked to him as if she’d stepped off the pages of an L.L. Bean catalog. Apparently, an L.L. Bean gal who liked the blatant sexuality of Georgia O’Keeffe’s work. “It’s Brian.”

  Liam lifted his brow. Last time he had seen Brian, Brian had been a seventy-something male L.L. Bean model. Not exactly the PlayStation 3 “Call of Duty” sort of guy.

  “You ever read your e-mail?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “If you did, you’d know more of what was going on around here.” She continued through the open, airy kitchen into a screened-in porch. “Brian was reborn last month.” She pushed the door open, stepping down into the yard.

  Liam followed. Peigi, the current leader of the General Council, always made him a little uneasy. She didn’t seem to get that he was a killer by nature and that she ought to be afraid of him, or at the very least, cautious. Whenever he was around Peigi, she kind of made him feel like he was still an awkward fourteen-year-old.

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “So is he. He do
esn’t want to go to school. He wants to eat pizza, sleep half the day, and play video games.” She grabbed a rake and tossed it to Liam. She was fast for an AARP card carrier with a bit of a beer belly.

  Liam caught it.

  “Into that pile,” she instructed.

  He did as he was told.

  “Brian knows he has to go to school, but I may let it go until after winter break and then enroll him. My nephew.” She rolled her eyes.

  Sept members remained married to the partners they had at the time they were cursed by God in fifth-century Ireland. Any adult had the right to have sex with any other consenting vampire, but to keep life as simple as possible, one was expected to live with his or her spouse for eternity. Or until their situation on Earth changed. For couples like Kaleigh and Rob who were close in age, it wasn’t really a problem. They died and were reborn within a couple of years of each other, but for Peigi and Brian, it was a little harder. Brian had been more than ten years her senior when they had been transformed into vampires, so while he had just been reborn as a teen, Peigi might not die and be reborn as a teen for years. It made for awkward situations, but like other couples, Peigi and Brian adjusted. That didn’t mean they had to like it.

  “He’s got an attitude right now, that one.” Peigi yanked her rake through loose leaves with a vengeance. “He won’t listen to a thing I say. He leaves dishes in the sink. The toilet seat up. All he does is whine: It’s not fair. It’s not right.” She frowned. “You know the drill.”

  He raked leaves into the massive pile she’d made in the center of the yard. “I seem to recall saying the same thing to my mother not too, too many years ago.”

  “You’re another one.” She pointed at him with her rake. “A handful.” She smiled. “But you make good men when you grow up.” She began to rake again, pulling leaves from a flower bed. “Oh, before I forget, can I borrow your Montclair?”

  “Sure. Of course.” Liam owned a 1957 light blue Mercury Montclair convertible. It was a sweet ride. He kept it in a storage unit in Lewes. “What for?”