Bloodhunter

by Laken Cane

  “I can try. If Shane Copas will help me, I can try to capture him for you.”

  He nodded. “What do you want in return?”

  “Release Angus Stark.”

  He shook his head. “Ask for something else. He assaulted one of my men.”

  I shrugged. “His temper sometimes gets the best of him, but he was worried about me. And I sincerely doubt your men are completely blameless. I was manhandled by a couple of them myself. Release him.”

  “Trinity—”

  “Make it go away, Captain.”

  He sighed. “All right. What else?”

  “I want my…knife back.”

  He nodded. “That’s easy enough. And number three?”

  I grinned. “I want a badge.”

  He tilted his head. “Pardon?”

  “A badge, captain. And an ID designating me as an official bloodhunter, employed by the RVPD. I want to be able to show the badge to cops who might get in my face, and civilians who might try to kick my ass.” I sat back and crossed my legs. “I want to be a registered law enforcement agent, and I want a badge.”

  He pursed his lips, then nodded slowly. “And how about a gun, Trinity. Would you like me to issue you a gun, and maybe a car, as well?” He waved his hand around the room. “Perhaps an office would suit your needs. Oh, and by all means, let’s give you a title. How does, “Super Sergeant Sinclair sound?”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “I can see that you don’t care for the idea.”

  He glared at me. “How very astute of you. You’re a sharp one.”

  “Captain—”

  He stood and leaned forward, his palms on his desk. “I will release your friend, and when you bring me the target, I will cut you a check. Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

  I practically ran from his office.

  I’d wear him down, eventually. A badge was the least important of my requests, but I sincerely did want to have some sort of official standing behind my new job.

  Besides, it would be cool to have a badge to flash.

  Rhys was waiting for me by the elevators. “They’re bringing Angus,” he said. He leaned against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankle, his hands in his pockets. His smile was lazy, his eyes heavily-lidded, and he looked like he knew exactly how sexy he was.

  I cleared my throat. “Thanks for waiting for me.”

  “Absolutely my pleasure, Trinity.”

  Was he flirting? I had no idea. I wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to men and their weird ways.

  “How do you feel?” he asked. “Have the effects of the lotion gone completely?”

  “Um,” I said. Smooth, that was me. “I think so.”

  “Wilder was quite the gentleman when describing the events, but I know what the Foam of Aphrodite can do.”

  My face heated, and I said nothing.

  He studied me, his expression serious. “Miriam gave him hell for his part in the attack.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean? She hurt him because I...because the foam made me lose control?”

  “She does whatever she wants to do to him. He’s hers to fuck with, Trinity. You need to remember that.”

  “I don’t understand any of it. Why does he stay with her? Why does he let her treat him like that?”

  “He doesn’t have a choice, kid.”

  “But why not?” I hesitated, then rushed on. “Is he really a golem?”

  “Sort of. She raised him from the dead.” He shook his head, then straightened and rubbed his arms. “She’s capable of many things, that one. Hardly any of them good. She filled him with something—I don’t know, magical, I suppose—and it is not possible for him to disobey her. He’s aware. He just can’t do anything about it. I’m nearly certain he would physically explode if he tried to break away from her.” He shuddered. “I feel for the poor bastard.”

  “She hates him,” I murmured.

  “Or she loves him. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell the difference.”

  “No,” I replied. “There’s no love there. Passion. But not love.”

  He smiled, his full lips curling. “What would you know of love, Bloodhunter?”

  I returned his smile, pleased with the title, if not the question. “Next to nothing,” I admitted. “But I know a lot about hate.”

  He lost his smile. “Yes. I suppose you would.” Then he pointed his chin at something behind me. “Here comes the maddened bull you saved from jail. FYI, Trinity, Angus can’t resist a woman in red clothes.” He shrugged. “You never know when that might come in handy.”

  “I’ll file that away in my drawer of useless information,” I retorted. “Thanks.”

  He just grinned.

  And Angus was mad. He strode toward us, past us, then stopped, turned around, and pointed at me. “Are you okay?” he practically shouted.

  “I’m fine.” I’d been saying that a lot lately.

  He glared at me, then turned that glare on Rhys. “Well? Let’s get out of this godforsaken wart of a place.”

  “I have a lot to tell you,” I said, striding along beside him.

  “Oh, I have no doubt of that,” he snarled. “And if you were mine, you’d be telling it to me bent across my knee.”

  “Fuck you,” I said calmly, and refused to speak to him all the way home.

  Home to Bay Town.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “First of all,” Miriam said, “we have a tiny update on the foam situation. Let’s talk about that, then we’ll concentrate on our bloodhunter.” She smiled at me.

  I couldn’t look at her the same way. Sure, she was nice to me—protective, even—but she was a monster to Clayton. Who could raise someone up from the dead and enslave them? There were no laws to protect him. As long as she pulled the mystical strings that bound him, he was her property.

  The fact that I now felt protective of the man hadn’t escaped my notice. I was protective of all the supernaturals—but the others weren’t being subjugated by a cruel mistress.

  “Trinity?”

  I focused on the little knot of supernats gathered at a table in Stark’s Pizza. I was waiting for Shane Copas to arrive, and they’d decided to wait with me—just in case there were bad guys hiding under the tables, I suppose. Speaking of protective. Or overprotective, actually. “Yes?”

  “You weren’t listening,” Miriam said. “Do you need to lie down?”

  “No, I don’t need to lie down.” I frowned at her. “Obviously I’m stronger than I look, so stop with the delicate flower shit.”

  They all laughed, though I wasn’t trying to be funny.

  After Rhys had driven me home, I’d taken a long, hot shower, carried my covers into the closet, and then drifted immediately and into a deep, dreamless sleep. I slept until early the next morning when three of Angus’s children came screaming into the bedroom, converged upon the closet, and forced me to rise.

  I was fine.

  “Clayton.” Miriam’s voice became the crisp, cold, emotionless tone it always changed to when she addressed him. “Speak.”

  “I spoke to a contact,” he said. “She told me there’ve been attacks with the Foam of Aphrodite in other cities, as well. Probably more than we know, because the foam dissipates relatively quickly and the victims would have been unable to tell their stories.”

  I frowned. “Why couldn’t they tell their stories? Because he wiped their memories?”

  “Because he killed them,” he replied.

  “Oh,” I murmured. “I don’t see—”

  Miriam gave me a stern look. “Trinity, we need to get on with this. Please let him talk before Shane arrives to take you out.”

  I snorted. “You make it sound like we’re dating.”

  Her bright smile broke through the sternness. “You never know.”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure I do know,” I replied. “Shane Copas doesn’t love me like you guys do.” I grinned. “And believe me, the feeling is mutual.”

  “Give it time,”
she said. “He won’t be able to resist your rather odd siren song for long.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about, but before I could ask, Angus huffed. “You said something about getting on with it?”

  Miriam gave him an amused look, which he avoided. “Clayton,” she ordered.

  Clayton placed his slice of pizza back into his plate and began speaking once more. “We think the attacker is making more foam from each of his victims, and using it to attack the next person.”

  “And his victims?” Angus asked. “I assume they’re all human since the foam doesn’t affect us.”

  “His victims are all humans,” Clayton said. He glanced at me, then slid his gaze away, as though he didn’t want me to see what lay in his eyes. “And when he can find them, he’s killing hunters.”

  Miriam reached across the table to take my hand. “We think he’s attracted to hunters, and when he entered our city, he immediately gravitated toward you.”

  I pulled my hand away and took a sip of my Coke to wet my suddenly dry throat. “Someone should tell Shane.” Then I frowned. “But why the foam?”

  “To get you to hold still for it,” Angus said. “Our cowardly attacker is a weak little ass pimple of a bitch.”

  “Probably sick,” Rhys agreed. “And he’s not going to be interested in Copas.”

  I shook my head at Angus and looked at Rhys. “What makes you think he’s sick? He was very fast, and not even Clayton throwing him into a wall seemed to rattle him much.”

  “Only someone desperate would take the risk he took,” Clayton said. At last, he lifted his stare to mine, and it was like his eyes were magnets. I could not look away.

  “Clayton.” Miriam rapped the table with her knuckles. “Continue.”

  “I think he’s after you in particular,” Clayton told me, dropping his stare. “You’re not just a hunter. You’re something…more.”

  “Clayton used to be something…more,” Miriam said, lightly mocking. “Before I plucked him out of Death’s greedy embrace. Before I changed him and took away everything that made him special. Isn’t that right, Clayton?”

  I sighed. Clayton looking me in the eye had obviously pissed her off.

  “Yes,” he murmured. Blank. So blank.

  “You were so upset.” Miriam’s voice became high and pleading as she mocked him. “Send me back! Send me back to the niche! I beg you…”

  He tightened his hands into fists and she reached over to tap the back of his hand with one small finger, silently ordering him to relax his fists. “Send me back,” she said softly. “Remember, Clayton?”

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  I slapped the table so hard the plates jumped. “Stop it, you bitch!” Only Amias Sato had ever triggered such rage inside me. I wanted to reach across the table and tear off her head. “You fucking bitch.”

  Rhys grabbed the back of my neck and squeezed. The spot bitten by the vampire began to throb beneath his grip and I focused on that pain until I was able to control my rage. I didn’t want to fight with Miriam. I would lose.

  I didn’t want to make an enemy of her.

  But I could not watch as she tormented another being. As she tormented Clayton.

  The room went completely silent.

  The dinner crowd hadn’t yet arrived, thank God, and the dining room was empty but for us and a couple of kids cleaning. The kitchen was full, though, and even they had silenced.

  “Trinity,” Miriam said, shocked, though she tried hard to empty her eyes. “What on earth?”

  Rhys eased his grip, then began rubbing his thumb over the bandage. “Okay now?” he murmured.

  I looked at Miriam. “I don’t like the way you treat him.”

  We stared at each other for a good two minutes. Clayton didn’t look up. He didn’t move. Most likely, I’d just made sure he was in for a hard night with his sadistic mistress.

  “She’s human,” Rhys told Miriam. “We must remember that.”

  “Don’t do that,” I said. “Don’t make excuses for me like I need them or she deserves them.”

  “Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” Angus said, finally, his voice gruff. “Trin, you don’t know the circumstances. Mind your business, girl.”

  Miriam smiled, and continued to hold my stare. “Maybe I should tell her. Should I tell her, Clayton?”

  Slowly, so very, very slowly, and without moving anything but his eyes, he looked at me. “Yes,” he murmured.

  Surprise lit her face and she glanced at him. “I should?”

  He did not reply, and now it was no longer Miriam who held me trapped in her darkness, but Clayton. I couldn’t break away, and I continued to stare at him, at his despair, even though he was once again studying the tabletop.

  Finally, Miriam shrugged. “All right. It’s understandable that our bloodhunter is soft on the golem. She has no idea.” She took a deep, shuddery breath. “Clayton Wilder was a hunter, once upon a time. A bloodhunter, Trin, like you. Only problem was, he hunted more than vampires. And he took it upon himself to trap, torture, and murder my beloved father.”

  Her face had gone even paler than usual, and tears stood in her eyes. When she continued, the horror of her memories made her voice raw and hoarse and so filled with pain that I could barely stand to listen.

  “Took my father an entire night to die. It took me a lot longer to kill Clayton, and then to bring him back as something I could own.” She leaned forward, suddenly, and grabbed my face, forcing me to look at her. “Clayton is my Amias Sato, Trinity. And I’ll treat him however I please for as long as I can bear to keep him alive. Do you understand me?”

  I wanted to ask her why Clayton had killed her father, but that would have made it seem like I believed there was an excuse for the killing. A reason for it. And I could not belittle her pain that way. I simply nodded, so sick of our capacity for violence, sickness, and horror, and I dropped my gaze.

  “Good.” She let go of me and sat back, then picked up a slice of cheese pizza and took a small bite, chewing into our uncomfortable silence.

  “Do we…” I had to stop and clear the gravel from my voice. “Do we know what the attacker is? He’s not a vampire.”

  Clayton answered me, his voice as calm and empty as his eyes always were. No, not always. There were times when his stare was hot and fierce and male and alive, and that made his forced submission to Miriam seem even worse.

  But he was a murderer, and a sadistic one, if I believed Miriam. And I did. At least, I had absolutely no doubt that she believed everything she’d just said. Perhaps there were two sides to the story. I couldn’t know.

  “I believe he’s some sort of demon.” He stared over my head. “You will need extra protection. If his life depends on taking yours, he will find a way.”

  “So he’s feeding,” Rhys said.

  Angus, a little more subdued than usual, put his elbows on the table and leaned in, as though he didn’t want anyone else hearing what he was about to say. “You don’t think he’s just a demon, do you?” he asked Clayton. “You think he’s an—”

  Miriam’s gasp interrupted him. “Incubus,” she spat, her voice a whisper. She turned her head slowly to look at Clayton.

  He flinched. Not obviously, but I saw. I saw the flinch in the area around his eyes. I saw.

  But Rhys scoffed. “Incubi have been scarce since the fourteenth century. I doubt one is showing up now, trying to suck the life from Trinity.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Angus said. “They are rarely seen anymore, but they still exist. I think Clay has something. I think he’s right.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that?” Miriam asked Clayton, quietly.

  “I wasn’t absolutely certain.”

  Her lip curled. “Oh honey, I know you.” She leaned closer to him. “You’re trying to assert yourself.” She pressed her lips against his cheekbone. “It won’t work. You’re strong, but you’re not that strong.” She laughed, suddenly, and clapped her hands. “But I d
o enjoy watching you try.”

  She winked at me, as though I joined her in her delight.

  Rhys sighed, and put his arm around my shoulders. Angus reached across to pat Miriam’s hand, and I understood two things at that moment.

  One, Miriam was a little more broken than the rest of us, and two, they sincerely cared about her.

  And then realization popped into my head exactly why the attacker—who may or may not have been an incubus—used the Foam of Aphrodite. “The victims,” I whispered. “They have sex with the attacker and then he kills them? He rapes them?” I swallowed my sudden nausea. “Why?”

  “If he’s an incubus,” Miriam answered, when no one else would, “that’s how he feeds. He takes his victim’s life force to survive.”

  Angus cleared his throat. “Usually an incubus doesn’t kill his victims. But there’s something wrong with this one. I’m just spitballing here, but if he’s an incubus, and if he’s killing when he feeds, then he’s…” He shrugged. “He’s just sick.”

  “Maybe,” Rhys said. “And he’s weak.”

  “Because he ran from Clayton?” I asked. “Because he has to use the foam to get…” I gestured, unsure.

  “Laid,” Angus said, helpfully.

  Miriam eyed me. “Because a demon at full strength would have torn Clayton into little bitty pieces and you would not be talking to us right now.”

  “And an incubus wouldn’t ordinarily need help from sex foam,” Angus said. “They hold some sort of magical influence over their preferred gender. Makes them irresistible to the human they want to feed from.”

  “You must be an incubus,” I joked, then wanted to sink into the floor and disappear when I realized I’d insinuated that I found Angus irresistible.

  Angus roared with pleased laughter.

  Rhys chuckled. “I never understood his appeal myself,” he said. “Now it all makes sense.”

  “I only meant…” I muttered.

  “Honey, don’t even try,” Miriam told me, giggling.

  I glared, cleared my throat, and got back to the business at hand. “The other attacks. You don’t know anything about them? Don’t the supernatural communities in the different cities communicate with each other at all?”