Night's Cold Kiss

by Tracey O'Hara

  “Murders?” Her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. “You think we had something to do with Viktor’s death?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’d think I would be involved with anything to do with his murder. I’m talking about the petition.”

  “Petition!” Oberon snarled, ignoring Christian’s warning glare. “What petition?”

  Valerica’s brow creased and she looked up at Oberon like he was stupid. “The one asking CHaPR to officially investigate the disappearances of several dozen parahumans over the last ten years.”

  “What’re you talking about?” Christian asked.

  “Since the Guild allowed the admittance of parahumans into its schools there have been several fatal accidents or disappearances involving parahuman students.”

  “Venator training and the trials are dangerous. Accidents happen,” Oberon said.

  “Yes, but it happened outside the trials. And while it used to be one or two, in the last two years, over fifty parahumans have been involved in either a fatality or disappearance, as opposed to the ten involving humans,” she said.

  “Why haven’t we heard anything about this?” Oberon asked.

  “Because the Guild has been covering it up.”

  “But why would they do that?” Christian asked.

  “I don’t know, the Department says we’re just trying to stir up trouble and that people disappear all the time. They’ve found no evidence of foul play in any of the incidents, or so they say. The AR has been gathering its own evidence and getting signatures to present to CHaPR, but if the Guild or the Department finds out they’ll shut us down.”

  “So that’s why you were involved with Andrew Williams.”

  “Did he tell you that?” She tilted her head to look at him. “I’ll kill him.”

  “Too late I’m afraid, someone’s beaten you to it,” Oberon said.

  Christian groaned inwardly. Tactful as always, Oberon.

  Her eyes widened with genuine surprise. “What?”

  She wasn’t acting. Christian had always known when Valerica was lying. Her eyes would change color. But this wasn’t one of those times.

  Her gaze passed from Christian to Oberon and back again, her shoulders slumping. “When?”

  “A couple of nights ago. He was about to flee the country,” Christian said. “Did he tell you anything?”

  She shook her head, her eyes losing focus as her thoughts turned inward. “He didn’t have much insider knowledge when it came to the Guild. Sir Roger was a blowhard and treated Andrew more like a slave than an assistant. Then suddenly, about two months ago, he got cagey about something and he kept having nightmares. Talking in his sleep about someone called the Old One.”

  Alarm bells clanged loudly. Christian turned to Oberon. “Williams—he was terrified, saying he needed protection from someone called the Old One.”

  “Dante?” Oberon asked.

  Valerica looked up quickly. “Dante? Dante Rubins? I thought he was dead.”

  “So did I until I came off second best in two encounters with him so far,” Oberon growled.

  Christian looked at her. “What do you know of Dante?”

  Valerica frowned. “Nothing really, it’s just Andrew kept talking about a man he just called D.R.” Valerica leaned over for a pack of cigarettes on the coffee table before her. “He didn’t approve of the Old One using this man—he kept saying D.R. was unstable and dangerous. I suppose it could’ve been Dante.”

  “What about the AR cult?” Christian asked. “What’s their involvement in all of this?”

  She pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it. She took a long drag and then exhaled before answering. “The AR really isn’t the same organization as it used to be. Most of AR’s ideals involve parahuman rights and not letting the humans dictate what we can and can’t do. Rubins may have set up a radical cult, but he was insane. We moved a long way from that. Today’s AR takes a much more philosophical and political approach.”

  Valerica rolled the filter with her fingers and glanced toward the front door.

  “You mean it’s a bunch of bored old Aeternus sitting around reflecting on their glory days and bitching about how the world is today,” Oberon said.

  “No.” She crossed her legs and blew smoke in his direction. “There’s more to it than that. We organized the petition, and we have fundraising parties and committee meetings.”

  “You mean sex-fests,” Oberon snorted. “Like this one.”

  She glared at him as she dragged in another puff then glanced at the door for a second time.

  Oberon dropped his arms to his side. “I don’t think we’re going to find out much more here, Laroque. The AR seems to have lost its teeth.”

  Christian was beginning to think Oberon was right. “Is there anything…anything at all…you can think of that may help us find Viktor’s killer?”

  Valerica leaned forward and stamped out the butt in the ashtray, shaking her head and looking as fragile as he’d expected in the first place.

  He reached over and took her hand. “Call me if you think of anything else.” He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up. “Or even if you just need something—anything.”

  She nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. He worried about her. She’d never been particularly strong—more show than anything else, always living in the shadow of her mother and brother.

  As he stood up, a guy came in the front door carrying a paper grocery bag. He looked at Valerica and then at Christian and Oberon. “What’s going on? Who are you?”

  Once again Oberon flashed his ID.

  The newcomer just glanced at it with a sneer. “This is harassment, man.”

  Oberon picked him up by the front of the shirt and lifted his feet off the floor. “Who the hell are you?” he growled.

  “He lives here.” Valerica came to her feet. “Please, put him down.”

  Oberon dropped him on his ass. She ran to his side to help the boy stand. Christian could smell the youth was newly awakened.

  Valerica’s new boyfriend started to sputter, puffing out his chest. “That’s assault, I can have you—”

  “It’s okay, Ricky baby, they’re just leaving,” Valerica said, wrapping her arms around his waist.

  He took her face between his hands and kissed each tearstained eyelid. “Are you all right, babe?”

  She nodded at him and smiled. Not an entirely happy smile, but it had potential. For the first time in many centuries she looked at a man other than himself with adoration. Although this kid was young, he had courage and strength, just what Valerica needed. And he could give her something Christian never could. Love.

  Christian held out his hand to Ricky. “Take care of her will you?” He met her eyes. “And treat her the way she deserves.”

  The young man looked surprised, but took his hand in a firm grasp and pumped it slowly. “Yeah man, I will.”

  Christian drew Valerica in and kissed her forehead. “Goodbye, Valerica.”

  “Goodbye,” she whispered.

  Once outside the building, Oberon looked up. “Tell me, Laroque—did she have a thing for you?”

  Christian shrugged. “We’ve known each other a very long time. Why?”

  “That guy looked like your bloody double.”

  “Rubbish.”

  “Well, you weren’t standing where I was.” Oberon shook his head, bemused. “I could hardly tell the difference.”

  Christian changed the subject. “Okay where do we go from here?”

  Oberon placed his huge hands on his hips. “I don’t know—back to your place to compare notes?”

  26

  Whispers in the Dark

  Antoinette finished her workout and made her way back to her room. Her muscles trembled from the exercise, but all she could think about was the way Christian brought her alive when they made love.

  Sex had never been very big on her radar. She’d lost her virginity at the age of sixteen at an Academy mix
er. It was a totally forgettable two-minute fumble in the darkened equipment room with an eighteen-year-old boy from another class. She’d only wanted to see what the fuss was about, and decided it wasn’t all that much.

  The boy had roughly entered her after a bit of breast squeezing and nipple pinching. He’d pumped away on top for a few seconds then shuddered his release. Afterward he buttoned his trousers and left her sprawled, bruised and unfulfilled, on the piled-up gymnasium mats. He didn’t even acknowledge her for the rest of the year.

  Sometimes after a kill she’d head to a bar, restless with the need to reaffirm her humanity. She’d work off a bit of the adrenaline with a quick ride in the backseat of some faceless chump’s car, or up against a dark and dirty alley wall.

  Occasionally her “friend” would even spring for a hotel room, but she never stayed longer than it took to get the job done. And if she couldn’t find anyone she wanted to fuck, she’d start a brawl instead. A good fight worked off just as much energy and was sometimes much more satisfying.

  She’d never met a man she wanted to sleep with more than once. Until now.

  It was just sex, right?

  That’s all it could ever be. One day he could be her enemy. Was it wrong to sleep with the enemy?

  A knock on the door startled her. Could Christian be back already?

  “Come in, I’m decent,” she answered.

  Dylan pushed the door open and stood on the threshold with a tray in his arms. “The butler asked me to bring this up to you since I was coming anyway.”

  “Ah, my babysitter.”

  He crossed the floor and put the tray holding a glass of milk, a sandwich, and an apple on the table. God bless Kavindish, he knew she’d be hungry after her workout.

  Dylan walked to the window and checked it was shut tight. Antoinette sat down to remove her Nikes then wiped her hands and picked up the sandwich, taking a large bite. Roast beef with plenty of mustard—just the way she liked it.

  “So why does Oberon think I need you to take care of me?” she asked around a mouthful of bread and meat.

  Dylan turned away from the window and looked at her more closely. “Don’t underestimate Rubins. He nearly took us all out in that warehouse and surprise was our only real defense. He knows we’re onto him now. He’ll be ready next time.”

  “You don’t think he’d really come here after me? Do you?” She took another large bite.

  “Probably not, but no harm in being prepared.” He crossed back to the door. “I think I’ll check the perimeter again.”

  “Thanks, Dylan. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I just don’t think they have any faith in my ability to look after myself.”

  “Dante is a nasty piece of work, that’s all.” He smiled and winked. “Yell if you need anything and don’t forget to drink your milk,” he said before shutting the door.

  Antoinette finished off her sandwich and drank half the milk. She pulled off her top and was headed for the shower when her cell phone rang.

  She flipped it open. “Hello?”

  “Antoinette?”

  She recognized the voice immediately. “Lucian! How are you?”

  “I’m fine and on the mend. I have to wear a sling to help the shoulder heal properly, but other than that I’m fine. What about you? Are you still in New York?”

  “Yes, at Christian’s.” She sat on the bed, one leg folded underneath her.

  “Are they still giving you a hard time?” he asked.

  “Not so much.” How much should she tell him about the case? “They think they know who the attacker is.”

  “Oh—that’s great. So you’re off the hook then?”

  “Pretty much I think.”

  “Anything I can do to help—you name it.”

  “Please don’t worry about it. I’m sure there’ll be another break soon. They think there might be someone else involved.”

  “Really? Do they have any idea who?”

  “No, and it’s just a theory anyway.”

  “Well, you be careful. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Listen—” Lucian paused. “I was going to leave this until I got back to New York, but if you can spare the time, it would be great if you would give some Venator demonstrations at the Academy.”

  “I’d like that.” She squirmed one-handed out of her sweatpants. “When?”

  “I’ll talk to you about it in a few weeks when I need to come to New York to visit my specialist. But you’re welcome to visit my house upstate anytime before that if you wish.”

  “Thanks. I’ll think about it.” Not likely, though, while Dante was free.

  “Well, if you do decide to come, call me and I’ll make the arrangements.”

  “I will, Lucian, but I’d better go now,” she said.

  “Yes, we’ll talk soon.”

  Now—time for a shower.

  Feeling clean and refreshed, Antoinette left the bathroom as she twisted the tie around the end of her still damp braid. She picked up the apple she’d saved from the dinner tray and pulled a small knife from the pocket of her army pants to cut a slice. As she brought the piece of fruit to her mouth, the fine hair on the back of her neck prickled and a slight breeze cooled her shower-warmed skin. Someone was in the room. She spun around as Dante stepped out of the shadows.

  “Well now, little one.” His breath caressed her cheek. “Now it’s just you and me.”

  As Antoinette stepped back, the top of her thighs ran into the table behind and the apple fell from her fingers, thudding to the floor. Her eyes flicked to the door and escape. “How did you get in here? Christian had alarms put on all the windows.”

  He laughed. “Did you really think that would stop me?” A breeze flowed in from the open window behind him.

  Antoinette feinted left then darted to the right, but the key turned in the lock then flew into his hands. “We wouldn’t want anyone to disturb us now, would we?” He put it in his pocket.

  She made a lunge for her cell phone that sat on the dresser. Again he beat her to it, the phone flew out the window and out of her reach.

  Dante stalked toward her and she backed away until she felt the wall behind her. Her fingers clenched around the knife, reminding her it was there.

  Scratching and growling whimpers came from the other side of the bedroom door. Cerberus must sense her danger.

  Dante placed his hand against the wall on either side of her head and leaned in. “It’s time, little one.” He smiled, his fangs gleaming. “It’s time for me to taste your sweet delights.”

  “No.” She buried the knife up to the hilt in his stomach. “It’s not.”

  His eyes widened in surprise and he looked down at the handle sticking out. She took the opportunity to dart under his arms and out of the window, scrabbling down the drainpipe as fast as she could, scraping her knuckles and bare feet. When she reached the bottom, she looked up.

  His mouth twisted into a malevolent grin, the knife handle still protruding from his stomach. “Run,” he said, pulling the blade out and dropped it to clatter on the concrete. He leapt from the window after it and landed a few feet away. “Let’s play catch.”

  Antoinette backed up and tripped over something large and soft. The metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils as she looked down at a headless body. A short way off, Dylan’s sightless eyes stared out of his decapitated head.

  She stifled the scream welling in her throat and climbed to her knees, her hands brushing her cell phone. She quickly pocketed it, hoping it still worked.

  Then she ran.

  But before she reached the street something slammed into the back of her head and the world went black.

  Cerberus’s whimpers greeted Christian as he arrived home. Kavindish came in from the kitchen wearing his overcoat.

  “What’s all the commotion about?” Oberon asked, following Christian into the house.

  “I don’t know, but he’s worked up about something.” Then it hit him—only one thing would set the dog off
like that. “Antoinette—”

  Christian raced up the stairs leaving Oberon and Kavindish to follow. He found Cerberus scratching frantically at her door, whining, growling and trying to dig his way in through the carpeted floor.

  Christian tried the handle. Locked. He pounded on the wood. “Antoinette, open the door.”

  Nothing.

  “What’s wrong?” Oberon asked.

  “It’s locked from the inside and she’s not answering,” Christian said, turning just in time to see Oberon stripping off. “What’re you doing?”

  “I don’t want to ruin these clothes.” Oberon held out his jacket to Kavindish. “Will you keep them for me?”

  The butler bowed and took it, holding his arms out for the rest.

  “Stand back,” Oberon said when completely naked. The muscles along his arms rippled and his fingers began to thicken. Christian watched in fascination as Oberon’s body swelled, growing taller and bulkier than he already was. Hair sprouted across his chest leaving swirling hairless patterns along his tribal scars. The fur spread across his torso, along his limbs, and covered his face. Long sharp claws extended from the ends of his fingers and his face rounded as the nose elongated. Within a few seconds, a huge grizzly bear stood on hind legs, his large head brushing the ceiling.

  Oberon, in bear form, dropped to all fours and hit the door with fifteen hundred pounds of raw fury—his fur rippled and shimmered with the effort. Cerberus cringed low and backed away. After a few good hits the doorframe splintered inward, sending the door crashing to the floor. Oberon backed up to let Christian enter, but Cerberus raced through his legs and ran to the window, barking at the alley below.

  Oberon sniffed around the room and growled. A chair had been overturned and Christian squatted to pick up an apple—the fruit had gone slightly discolored where a slice had been cut away. The dog continued to bark, and Christian found a drop of black blood darkening the window sill—Aeternus blood. He smeared it with his fingertips and sniffed then held it under the bear’s nose. “Dante?”

  Oberon rose up on hind legs, muzzle peeled back to expose long white canine teeth, and he jutted his head forward, grunting at Christian. Then the bear shrank—fur disappeared as if sucked back into pores, replaced with perspiration slicking Oberon’s toffee-colored skin. He stood, hands on hips, totally uncaring about his state of undress. “Dante. His scent’s everywhere in here.”