Gaslight (Crossbreed Series Book 4)

by Dannika Dark

  “If I have to take apart this city—”

  “Nyet.” Viktor lowered his arm. “We will do everything in our power to find her, but Keystone comes first. We’ll make decisions together on how to handle Raven’s case. This man has a vendetta against you, and if he knows about you, then he knows about us. There are other lives at stake. We need you, but not if you’re making decisions without us. Don’t force my hand, Christian.”

  Christian launched out of the chair and crossed the room. He stared at the colorful pillows against the black sofa, remembering the rules. Anyone who left Keystone would have their memory scrubbed. That was part of the deal, and that would include erasing his memories of Raven. The only memory he’d have left of her was one from his distant past—a little girl trapped in a fire. Leaving the team meant giving up the search, so he had no choice but to stay and fight.

  “Christian, we’ll do everything we can, and you know that.”

  “I also know that you’ll eventually stop searching.” He refrained from giving away too much. “She’s my partner, Viktor. You, in your great wisdom, paired us up. And now I feel responsible for making sure that she isn’t lying in a shallow grave.” Christian slowly turned and put his hands in his pockets so he could rub his thumb around his onyx ring without Viktor noticing.

  When Viktor looked down, a lock of hair sprang in front of his forehead. “There is a chance she won’t come back. Sooner or later, you’ll have to accept it. We are both old, and we know that even immortals can die. So much evil—so many ancients who would rather go back to their savage ways. Did you know there’s a faction of immortals in Europe who hunt down ancients for sport? They believe the old ones threaten their new way of life. Others are jealous of their knowledge and power. We have the potential to do so much, but with power comes great responsibility. And for many, that power has… What is the word?”

  “Corrupted?”

  Viktor murmured something in Russian and then groaned when he flipped back to English. “That is close enough. I need to sleep. We’ll talk about this in the morning and come up with a plan.”

  Christian had long forgotten what it was like to feel truly sleepy—for his mind and body to be so deprived that he could blissfully close his eyes and forget all his troubles for eight hours.

  A ping sounded from the computer, and Christian rolled the chair out of the way to look at the screen. The private window activated with a blinking response.

  Seller: I have a message for Christian.

  Christian: I’m here.

  Seller: I’m truly sorry things worked out the way they did.

  “I bet you are, you little shitebag,” he muttered, putting his hands on the keyboard.

  When one of the keys beneath his fingers popped off, Viktor captured his arm. “I’ll take over before you shatter the keyboard. Tell me what to type.”

  Christian paced the room. “Where is she? I’ll pay my offer in full.”

  “I don’t want your money,” Viktor said, reading the reply.

  “What do you want?”

  “Nothing. It’s what I want to give you.”

  Christian snapped his gaze around and stared at the back of Viktor’s head. “What the feck’s he going on about?”

  “I don’t know,” Viktor said before reading the response. “I’m a man of principle, and I couldn’t back out of this transaction once it was final. So I would like to give you something.”

  “He can give me his head on a spike,” Christian retorted, taking a seat on the edge of the sofa. “Tell him to get to the point.”

  After a few keystrokes, Viktor read his reply. “I denied your offer and took less for Raven. She wants to be part of Keystone, and your winning this auction would have ended her career with your illustrious organization.” Viktor looked over his shoulder at Christian. “What does he mean?”

  Christian slid his jaw from side to side, avoiding the answer he already knew in his heart. Raven could never be with a man who’d paid for her. “Guilt,” he replied. “How would you feel in her shoes if you had to come back and look everyone in the eye after they spent a fortune on your return?”

  Viktor nodded and continued reading. “We’ll see how much she matters to Keystone. The name of her buyer was Fletcher. I can’t give you more than that, but I wish you luck on your hunt. May the winds blow in your favor.”

  Christian’s blood ran cold.

  “What’s wrong?” Viktor asked, spinning his chair around to face Christian. “Is there something I should know?”

  Christian dragged his eyes up. “Fletcher Black is the name of Raven’s Creator.”

  It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Fletcher would have known his Learner had different-colored eyes—he would have recognized her description. Wyatt said Vampire auctions never went that high, so who else would have paid that much?

  Christian stood up, and his lips peeled back. “Ask him why. Why would a man with principles give Raven back to her sadistic Creator?”

  Viktor pecked the keys with his index fingers.

  Her Creator would never let her go. Christian faced the wall and pressed his fists against it. Maybe there was something uniquely addicting about her light, or maybe Fletcher had a vendetta against anyone who got the better of him. Right now, Raven was enduring unimaginable horrors. Worst of all, Christian had no clue how much she knew about the transaction. Had she chosen her fate and begged her captor to deny Keystone’s offer? That sounded like something Raven would do, but it didn’t make sense that he’d give her that much control—not when it meant losing money. The alternative made his stomach sour. If Raven in fact knew nothing about the transaction, she would assume that Christian had given up.

  This whole thing was a charade. The marketeer charmed her, found out about Keystone, and thought it would be hysterical to toy with them.

  And now Raven would forever blame him for sending her into the arms of her abuser.

  “He’s responding,” Viktor said.

  Christian strode over behind Viktor’s chair and quietly read the message.

  Seller: If it’s any consolation, had I known who the buyer was, I wouldn’t have agreed. She’s a remarkable woman, and I hope you find her. Best of luck.

  Chapter 19

  Before we left the Bricks, Houdini put earplugs in my ears and then led me out blindfolded. Stumbling around blindly made me appreciate Niko even more. Unexpected steps caused me to lose balance, and without being able to hear, I had to rely solely on Houdini’s grip leading me forward. At one point he picked me up in his arms, which hurt my shoulders since my hands were still cuffed behind my back. After what seemed like a long walk, he laid me down inside a tight space that smelled of rubber and oil. When the earplugs came out and the blindfold moved away, I blinked up at him hovering over me, his hair hanging loose.

  Those hypnotic eyes…

  Being charmed was like falling down a tunnel that led to an abyss, and the only sound was a singular voice that governed my thoughts, actions, and consciousness. Once caught in the spell, there was no fighting it.

  After he spoke for a short period, I forgot every word of it and he placed the blindfold back on. I had a dreamlike awareness of him helping me out of the trunk and hearing the car drive away as I stood still, the icy wind blowing my hair back and snow soaking through my socks. It was as if I’d become stone and the world was happening all around me. My mind was empty, and the desire to think or even move was absent. Ice crunched against asphalt as the sound of a vehicle approached. When it stopped and the car door opened, I heard a familiar voice deep down in the caverns of my mind.

  His English accent hadn’t changed. It didn’t sound like the voice of royalty but of someone who’d grown up on the bad side of town. “There’s my girl.” He planted an unwelcome kiss on my cheek, his wiry beard tickling my skin. “Let’s go.”

  I had no sense of self or choice, and emotions didn’t exist. I knew what was happening and who I was with, but I felt no mental turmoil. I
t was as if I was detached from all emotion or sense of purpose. It wouldn’t last. That was the gift and curse of charming. Like a dream, my Creator took my hand and led me forward. When he put me into another car trunk and shut the lid, I instantly fell asleep.

  Pain in my pinched wrists woke me up. But I wasn’t fully alert until icy water splashed me in the face.

  I gasped and coughed, some of it having shot up my nose. When it trickled down my back, I shivered. Once I opened my eyes and looked around, I realized I was kneeling on a concrete floor with my arms raised over my head. Thick clumps of wet hair curtained my face. To remove the strain on my shackled wrists, I staggered to my feet. The manacles were attached to a single chain that hung from the wall—a chain with just enough slack for me to kneel but not sit all the way down. My muscles ached, and I flexed my fingers, which had fallen asleep.

  “You cost a pretty penny, love.”

  I slicked back my wet hair. Fletcher hadn’t changed in the five years since I’d last seen him. He still shaved his odd-shaped head, which he probably thought would disguise the fact he was balding. He made up for it by growing out that unattractive beard. The reddish-brown hairs were wiry, and his mustache covered his entire upper lip. He wasn’t a refined-looking man at all. Fletcher’s strong physique was marred by lines in his forehead and scars on his body that he must have acquired in his mortal life. The only redeeming quality about him was his deep-blue eyes. They were too beautiful for a man so cruel.

  While he looked me up and down, I put my surroundings to memory in case he decided to blindfold me again. All the walls except the one behind me were cinder block, and the water he’d splashed on me was crawling toward a drain in the center of the room. Well, at least these accommodations were a slight upgrade from the last place he’d kept me. Instead of just a bucket of water, there was also a toilet off to my right. Minus the tank lid, of course. He’d set candles on the floor, out of reach. It would have been nice to have one close to warm my hands, because I could feel a cold gust of wind blowing through the open steel door behind him. It had a small window with metal bars at eye level, so it wouldn’t be any help keeping out the cold.

  Leave it to Fletcher to make me feel right at home.

  He drew closer and bent forward in a mocking bow. “Sorry your accommodations couldn’t be more… accommodating. Since you have friends who might be looking for me, here we are.” He slapped my cheek three times. “Wakey, wakey.”

  I gripped the chain and raised my legs, kicking him in the stomach.

  Fletcher stumbled backward but didn’t fall on his back like I’d hoped he would. Doubled over, he jerked his head up and stared daggers at me. “You’re going to pay for that, you bloody cunt.”

  I kept a cool expression with a hint of a smile. I never thought I’d look into those soulless eyes again, and I didn’t want to give him an ounce of my fear. It was the one thing he fed on besides pain.

  Had Houdini planned this all along? He couldn’t have known who the other bidder was. What if Christian had given up on me, and when things didn’t go as planned, Houdini wanted to make it seem like his idea?

  What if Keystone had been a dream? Maybe my whole life for the past five years had been nothing but a psychotic break—a means to escape captivity.

  “You’re an insolent Learner unworthy of my light,” he rasped, straightening his back.

  “Let me go.”

  “Oh, now you want to talk nicey-nicey.” The grin beneath his scruffy beard was barely visible. “You have the most succulent light of all, my little halfling. It was only a matter of time before we ran into each other. I’ve got big plans for you,” he said, wagging his finger at me.

  “You’re such a fucking idiot. All this trouble—all that money spent—just so you can sip on my light? You can grab any rogue off the street, and no one will miss them. I would have been better off if you’d just left me in that morgue.”

  “You would have been buried alive.” He straightened his back and cocked his head to the side. “In a human cemetery, you’d be lucky if a Gravewalker ever found you.”

  He inched forward, and the moment he touched my chin, my fangs punched out. I no longer had Houdini’s bracelet blocking my gifts.

  “You’re mine,” he said, a current of possession in his voice. “Kick me again, and I’ll take the toilet out of here. See how you like rolling around in your own shite.”

  “I hope you wasted your entire fortune buying me. Your pride was always bigger than your brain.”

  He pursed his lips and turned around. “You’re mouthier than I remember. I have a right cozy bed if you’d like to keep your mouth open.” He spun around and gave me a malevolent grin. Then he did that thing I hated where he stroked the front of his upper teeth with his tongue. “The man I bought you from said your name was Raven Black. I see you kept my name after all.”

  “It’s a nice reminder of the person I plan to kill someday.”

  He scrunched his face and gave me a baleful look. “Why don’t I believe you? Seems you would have tracked me down by now. It’s not as if I’ve changed jobs. Could it be that you’re afraid of me?”

  When his lips thinned, I felt myself shudder.

  In truth, I’d kept Fletcher’s name because it marked the end of my human life. It also seemed fitting since a monster had created another monster. I already had his Creator’s mark behind my left ear, so there was no point in trying to erase everything.

  Fletcher lifted my shirt up and looked at my stomach. “Such a shame to see how everything healed up. Maybe next time I’ll use liquid fire.”

  I turned my head to the side, the cool manacles touching my forehead as I tried to distract myself from the distant memories of him beating me with his belt until the buckle split my flesh open. Those were only the first weeks of captivity. I’d never imagined it could get worse.

  But it had.

  His knuckles brushed across my stomach. “I missed my little pet.” His hands traveled over my breasts, up my arms, and to my tightly clenched fists. “Come on, love. Give daddy a drink.”

  Fletcher’s malodorous breath made me hold my own as I clenched my fists even tighter. A smile touched his lips, and he reached for his zipper.

  “You know how I love it when you fight.” He pulled himself out and stroked his flaccid penis.

  Nausea crept up fast. What aroused Fletcher wasn’t nudity, sex, or even touching. It was pain. My core light had eventually healed all the scars from the beatings where he’d punched, kicked, whipped, and even twisted my skin until it left dark bruises. But sometimes when it rained, I had phantom pains of his teeth biting into my flesh until they drew blood.

  Hot, angry tears stung my eyes, and I turned my head to the side. How the hell could I be here? Was this punishment for my sins? I’d thought I could atone for the killings by changing my life, but maybe karma really did exist.

  I’d fought him for months—verbally and physically—to the point where I thought he’d kill me. Maybe hoped was a better word. As a sadist, Fletcher fed off defiance, and he was skilled at unearthing what hurt and repulsed me the most. It was his method of breaking me down to submission, because things were easier when you didn’t resist. I grew tired of the pain, the suffering, and the constant battle. I’d never seen him as complacent as when I’d stopped resisting and let him drink my light.

  In time, Fletcher began trusting me, certain he’d finally broken my spirit. He rewarded my behavior with hearty meals and a soft mattress. Part of me wanted to surrender if it meant putting an end to the torture and ridicule. Once I gave in and willingly let him steal my light, the beatings and sexual assaults ceased. Fletcher never raped me; his capabilities in that department were questionable. I’d learned early on that his impotence was only partially resolved when he tortured me. Then it was like Beat the Clock as he pleasured himself to a quick and unrewarding climax.

  That vile display had crippled me emotionally. But fuck him if he thought I was going to break as ea
sily this time.

  He poked me in my stomach, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Where have you been all this time?”

  I peered at him with one eye, my head still resting against my arm.

  He flipped back a few chunks of my wet hair to get a good look at me. “I paid half my fortune for you, love. Best not make me regret it.”

  My heart seized in my chest when the door behind him opened.

  “I brought what you asked,” a woman said.

  A grin widened on his face like the Cheshire cat. “Come in, Rachel. I’d like you to meet your sister.”

  What the hell?

  Fletcher stepped away, tucking himself back in his pants. The woman at the door had a boy’s haircut and sultry lips. I suspected she also had large eyes, but she kept them downcast.

  What an odd dress, I thought. Old-fashioned, reminiscent of what Kira had worn upon her arrival.

  Fletcher looked between us, a grin plastered across his smug face. “I’ll be back later for my drink. Let you two get acquainted.” He strode toward Rachel and tilted her neck to the side so he could kiss it. She kept her eyes low, allowing him to touch her without invitation.

  Once Fletcher left the room, Rachel approached me with a bundle of clothes in her arms.

  She risked a look. “He told me you bite.”

  When I turned my head and glared, she immediately averted her eyes.

  “I can’t charm,” I said.

  “I know.”

  After a beat, curiosity got the best of me. “Are you his girlfriend?”