Series Firsts Box Set

by Laken Cane

  But her voice was surprisingly cheerful, and when I finally got up the courage to look at her without blushing, she winked at me.

  I couldn’t resist turning my gaze to Clayton, who stood silent and empty at her back. It was hard to look at him. At his blankness. At his captivity.

  Without moving, he shifted his eyes to meet my stare. And finally, I had to look away. I’d been willing to sacrifice his freedom to save Angus. He’d have ended up back under Miriam’s rule anyway, and he’d have done it willingly.

  I would find a way to free him, despite Miriam’s magical hold. I would. Magic be damned. I would find a way.

  When I slid my eyes away from Clayton, Amias was gone and Shane was walking from vampire pile to vampire pile, giving the ones not already killed by a hunter their true deaths.

  “Trin,” Rhys said, when I drew one of my stakes and followed Shane. “Are you sure you don’t need to go get patched up? You’re looking pretty grim, my girl.”

  “I’ll be fine. The quicker we do this, the quicker we can concentrate on Angus. Rhys, will you call to check on him?”

  “I already did. He’s unchanged.”

  I left Miriam, Rhys, and Clayton to discuss the ramifications of the vampire infection, and methodically drove my stake into heart after heart. After a while, I became comfortably numb and didn’t cringe quite so hard when I had to shove the sharpened stick into another unprotected bit of flesh and bone.

  I was a hunter. Eventually, I’d grow out of my finickiness. In the heat of battle, I didn’t flinch, but coldblooded, methodical stabbings…that could be a little harsh.

  “Are you going to choose one of us?”

  I jerked at Miriam’s voice, loud in the silence. “Hush! And I don’t know what you mean.” I stabbed the next vampire a little harder than I had to.

  She laughed. “You know exactly what I mean.”

  I straightened and slid my dirty hand through blood and sweat as I wiped it over my forehead. “Leave me alone, Miriam. I’m not in the mood.”

  “Apparently anyone in our little group can get you in the mood.” She reached up to wipe something off my cheek, and when it didn’t budge, she licked her fingertip and tried again. “Am I going to be next? You fucked the vampire. Surely I rate higher than a nasty old vampire.”

  “He bit me,” I murmured. “And now it’s like…” I shook my head, then shrugged and went to the next vampire.

  “Honey.” She followed me, her voice heavy with disbelief. “You let him bite you?”

  “I didn’t let him do anything. He just did…stuff. And it felt so good I didn’t have the will to fight it.”

  “Well.” She reached out to squeeze my arm. “Don’t let it upset you. Vampires are sneaky and full of magic, but they’re dead, really, so it’s like using a sex toy, right?” She hesitated. “He can’t love you, Trinity.”

  I paused with my stake pressed against a female’s chest and turned my head to gape at her. “Love? Who said anything about love?”

  She studied me silently, and her bright, bubbly façade looked like glass that I could break if only I had a heavy enough stone to throw at her.

  “Trinity,” she said, finally. “Are you going to choose one of us?” She pursed her lips and amended her question. “One of them?”

  “Maybe,” I replied, a bit nastily, “I’ll choose Clayton.”

  She smiled. “Do you want to know what I think?”

  “I really don’t.”

  “I think we belong together. All of us in this little group of supernaturals and hunters. And maybe even the vampire. I think you belong to us, and we belong to you. You feel that connection, don’t you? But those men…” She turned to look at them. Shane had stopped staking vampires and stood with Clayton and Rhys, taking a break to drink the beer Rhys had tossed him. “Those men are going to want you to choose. Eventually.”

  I had no idea what to say, so I said nothing. I watched them, those lovely men, covered with blood and moonlight, laughing and drinking beer while dead vampires lay sprawled at their feet. And I did feel a connection. I cared about them. All of them. And I felt like…

  I felt like they were mine.

  Goosebumps covered my body and I shivered, something shrewd and ancient in the back of my mind, watching. Smiling.

  Waiting.

  “Son of a bitch,” I whispered.

  Miriam nodded. “Clayton belongs to me, though. I know you have feelings for him, and I know he has feelings for you. But he’s back with me, and I will hurt him like you can’t even imagine if he touches you again. You can love him, but you can’t touch him. Do you understand?”

  I looked into her eyes, and my grip tightened on the stake.

  “Please understand,” she continued into my silence. “I can’t allow the man who tortured my father to feel pleasure. What you did with him when he had his moment of freedom—I can let that go because that will be agonizing for him. He’ll long for that every single day, and it will be just out of reach.” Again, she smiled, widely, happily. “That’s all I ever really want. For Clayton to suffer.”

  “Miriam,” I whispered. “You’re so twisted up inside. Don’t you get tired of pain?”

  “Yes,” she said, viciously. “I get tired of pain.” She thumped her chest with a tiny fist. “He made this. And watching him suffer for what he created relieves my pain.”

  I was the tiniest bit afraid of her, but I took her hand. “No, it doesn’t,” I told her. “It doesn’t at all.”

  “You don’t know,” she said. “You don’t know what’s inside my head.”

  “I wish I didn’t,” I told her.

  I pretended not to see the sad darkness in her eyes and went back to staking vampires—something that was less painful than thinking about Miriam’s need to hurt one of the men I cared about.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Everything seemed to have changed almost overnight.

  The vampires were in trouble, the incubus was gone—forever? I couldn’t know—and the supernaturals were slowly testing the waters as they wandered out of hiding to face a relieved city that was in the mood to be magnanimous.

  But Angus still lay on a cot in a jail cell, awake but unresponsive, nearly killed by human police. His children waited, dejected and worried and missing their dad.

  I sat in Captain Crawford’s office, biting my fingernails, waiting for him to arrive for the meeting to which he’d summoned me. Every cop I’d passed on my way to Crawford’s office paused to congratulate me on not only wiping out the hundreds of infecteds in the woods off Raeven’s Road, but killing the incubus.

  Obviously, as Red Valley’s first bloodhunter, they wanted to believe I had killed the vampires, I had killed the incubus, and I had saved the city.

  And I was theirs.

  They gave Shane a smile and a slap on the back, but he wasn’t really one of us. He was an outsider.

  The city buzzed with the news of the vampires’ looming annihilation, and what news programs and gossip I’d caught seemed to believe I was somehow responsible for that, as well.

  The vampire infection was a strain Amias was unfamiliar with. The newly sick didn’t roam the woods, searching for prey, bursting with rage…well, they did, but after about a week, they fell down and died.

  It wasn’t a true death, Amias said. Maybe months from now or centuries from now they’d get back up. So Shane and I searched for them, and we made sure they would stay dead.

  Sure, there were some vampires immune like the master, vampires who’d caught the disease, fought it off, and lived to tell about it, but they were few and far between.

  Captain Crawford walked in, finally, his smile bright and his face a little less haggard. “Sinclair! You’re looking good.”

  I’d seen him only once in the two weeks since the battle in the woods, and only then because afterward, when I’d called to report the fight and the rapidly spreading vampire infection, he’d insisted I join him in an impromptu press conference. He’d wa
nted me there before I cleaned up.

  “The city should see you as you are,” he’d said. “You’re the person who stands between them and the nonhumans. They want a hero. We’re going to give them what they want.”

  “No way,” I’d said, flatly. “I’m not—”

  “It’ll go a long way toward getting the city to back off the Bay Town supernaturals, Trinity. You want things back to normal? This would be a hell of a start.”

  I didn’t really care if they wanted to stick a cape on me, and I didn’t care about the dying vampires. I cared about getting Angus home, and I cared about getting the supernaturals back into the good graces of the humans.

  So I’d agreed to be on TV. The city needed to know the supernats were innocent—and I’d hoped it might help me free Angus.

  They needed a hero? Fine. I could play a monster, and I could play a hero.

  Rhys had handed me half a bottle of painkillers and wrapped some bandages around the worst of my injuries, and I’d stood in front of the cameras and microphones, bloody and scarred and smelling of death. I’d told the city about the fight. I’d made it as frightening as possible, and I’d made sure they knew that without the help of the supernaturals, I’d have died and the infecteds would have infiltrated the city.

  I weaved a story about the incubus that wasn’t entirely untrue, and I told them how the supernaturals had destroyed him. How one of them had allowed himself to become possessed so he could control the nightmarish demon. I’d embellished a lot, lied a bit, cried a little, and I’d heard there was already a movie in the works.

  I’d turned Angus into a handsome, tragic hero, a man who, in trying to protect his children, had been beaten and burned and tortured. By the time I was finished, most of the crowd was in tears and others were clenching their fists in anger at the injustice of it all. Angus wasn’t exactly a stranger to them, and neither were his children. They’d cried, and then they’d gotten angry, and yells of “set him free!” had begun.

  Still, Angus was in jail.

  He’d hurt cops, after all. And no matter what his motivations might have been, he’d have to pay for that.

  But if he went to prison, it wouldn’t be for long.

  I had to believe that.

  And I had to believe he’d heal.

  “How are you?” Crawford asked, settling behind his desk. “You want some coffee?”

  “No, thanks. And I’m fine.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “I can see you’re not exactly fine. But better.”

  “Better than Angus,” I said.

  He nodded. “Everyone is better than Angus, even the three men he nearly killed. Luckily for him.”

  “What did you need, Captain?” I asked, crossing my legs.

  “Frank,” he said, absently, and studied me for a good two minutes before finally sighing and yanking open one of his desk drawers. “I owe you for the tracking job you did for me.” He tossed me a thick yellow envelope. “You’re not going to be lacking for work, Trinity.”

  I patted the envelope. “Thanks.”

  He shifted in his seat and frowned at me. “I’d like you to get some training in criminal recovery. Take some classes. Become licensed.”

  “Criminal recovery?” I asked. “You want me to become a bounty hunter?”

  He shrugged. “I’d just feel better about sending you out there if you knew what you were doing.”

  I stiffened, just a little insulted. “I’ve killed dozens of vampires and I’m still alive.”

  “You don’t know how to deal with human criminals. You’re a vampire hunter.”

  “Bloodhunter,” I said, as though maybe he’d forgotten. “And I do know what I’m doing.”

  “You know how to kill vampires with your fancy sword. But with the vampires dying, things will become much more specialized for you.” He leaned forward. “Can you track people, too, Trinity?”

  I thought about it. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “That’s something you need to figure out.”

  “There’s a lot I need to figure out.” It was my turn to hesitate. “Captain, Angus Stark—”

  “It’s out of my hands. There’s nothing I can do but try to make sure he’s treated well while he’s under my care.”

  “Let me take him home. We may be able to save his life. And if—when—he heals, you can take him back into custody.”

  “If it were up to me, I’d send him home with an order to take some anger management classes.”

  I scowled at him. “You’re all about people taking classes.”

  “Look,” he said. “Things are calming down. Bring his kids to visit. I’ll see to it they’re not accosted. But he’s not leaving this place until he’s been sentenced. And he won’t be leaving this place for home. He’s going to prison, Trinity. Accept it now. Get used to it. Because that’s what will become of Angus Stark.”

  I fought back sudden tears. “You know what those places are like, Captain. They’ll kill him there. They’ll kill his spirit. It’s what they do.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  And he really was. But as he’d said, it was out of his hands.

  “He’s strong,” he said, gently. “He’ll survive, and he’ll return home to his children.”

  I appreciated that he was trying to comfort me, but I could not be comforted.

  “As what?” I stood. “I’m going to go see him.” But at the door, I stopped. “Is Gordon Gray still alive?”

  He frowned. “He is. Why?”

  “I promised him I’d visit him. He had something he wanted to tell me. Can you take me to him after I check on Angus?”

  A flash of surprise rippled through his eyes. “No. Not a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  He stood. “You were hired to bring him to me. You did that. Your part in this is over. Close the door on your way out, Sinclair.”

  I went without arguing because I didn’t care that much about Gray. He was a vampire. But something nagged at me as I jogged down the hall. Gray had told me he hadn’t killed Lucy, and something made me believe he’d been sincere. And if he hadn’t been the one to kill Lucy, wouldn’t Crawford want to know? Wouldn’t he want to investigate the matter just a little further?

  But those were questions for another day.

  The cop who would let me into Angus’s cell was a man named Shaun something or other, and he was one of the few cops who seemed able to maintain a professional composure when it came to Angus.

  He searched me quickly, confiscating every weapon I had on me. I’d left Silverlight at home for that very reason. I didn’t want them touching her.

  “He’s doing better today.” Shaun shoved my weapons into a locker, then walked me toward Angus’s cell.

  “That’s great,” I said, a little surprised, then I forgot all about Shaun when I turned to look at Angus and found him watching me.

  And there was a spark of life in his eyes.

  “Angus.” I rushed to his side, then sat down beside him and grabbed his hand. “Hi.”

  In the last couple of weeks, Captain Crawford had brought in doctors—one human and one supernatural—and Angus had begun to look a little better almost immediately.

  He’d awakened a week and a half ago, but there’d been no recognition in his eyes when he’d looked at me, and when I’d talked to him, he hadn’t responded.

  But today, his eyes were brighter, and he was smiling. “Hey, beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rusty.

  “You’re back,” I said, thickly, then tightened my grip on his hand as I glanced around the room, trying to concentrate on something else so I wouldn’t cry.

  I didn’t want him to know how scared I was, or how hopeless I felt.

  One of the doctors had hung fluids, and as I peered up at the bag, a young man stuck his head into the cell. “I’m Eric, his nurse until five. Let me know if you have any questions.”

  “He’s doing better,” I said.

  Eric nodded and walked over to stand b
eside us. “He’s got a long road ahead of him, but I believe he’ll recover.” He glanced over his shoulder at Shaun, who leaned against the wall in the hallway, looking at his phone, then leaned quickly toward me. “He needs to shift to heal. But if he shifts, they may kill him.”

  Shaun pushed away from the wall and came to peer through the bars. He said nothing, but he was watchful. Maybe he behaved professionally, but he was a cop, and his loyalty lay with his fellow cops.

  “Son of a bitch,” I muttered. “Assholes.” I thought Angus wasn’t shifting because he was too injured. But if they were forbidding him to shift, it would take him forever to heal. And that was exactly what they wanted. An injured shifter was easier to control than a healthy one.

  Eric made a show of checking Angus’s various lines and bandages, then hurried from the room without another word.

  “Trin,” Angus whispered, his voice like broken glass. “Kids?”

  “They’re good.” I leaned over and pressed my forehead to his. “I saw them this morning. They miss you.”

  He still looked like he was dying, but his bruises were fading and his gaping wounds were closing. He looked more like a man and less like a misshapen, swollen lump. He’d be okay. That old spark in his eyes said he would.

  “They fucked me up,” he said.

  “So much.” I kissed his forehead. “And so badly.”

  “Don’t cry.”

  “I’m not,” I said, wiping my spilled tears from where they’d fallen upon his cheek.

  “You’re hurt,” he noted.

  I snorted. “No, you’re hurt. I was spanked by some vampires and then I killed the sons of bitches.”

  He muttered something I couldn’t quite grasp, his voice weak.

  I put my ear to his cracked lips. “What’d you say?”

  “I said,” he whispered, “that I would like to spank you.”

  I pursed my lips in disapproval. “For God’s sake, Angus. And you half dead.”

  He laughed, and his dry, cracked lips began to bleed.

  “You’re going to be fine.” I pulled a tissue from my pocket to blot away the blood. But before he could really be fine, he needed to shift.