by Olsen, Lisa
Know Me
When the Sun Goes Down
By
Lisa Olsen
Copyright © 2017 Lisa Olsen, all rights reserved.
Cover Image licensed by Depositphotos.com/toxawww
This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, copied, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any other format or changed in any way, including the author’s name and title, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The use of any real person, company or product names are for literary effect only and used without permission. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Visit the author’s website at http://www.lisaolsen.net
Acknowledgements
Thanks to my fantastic editing team, especially Lady Bex Publishing for getting through it so quickly and Marilyn Weaver for your awesome comments and eye for typos. Thanks to Randi Padgett, Lisa High, Beckie Pimentel, and Laveda Kasch for helping me decide to go ahead with this crazy book idea in the first place. Thanks to James for knocking out the cover despite my insistent demands for more blue. Thanks to my street team, the Streetbots, for the continued support when I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to keep writing. Thanks to all my readers for sticking with me through all of Anja’s ups and downs. This one is sort of different, so I hope you’ll trust me and keep reading. It’ll be okay, I promise.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Preview - Angel of Mercy
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter One
“Bring him back!” My fist went through the table, sending painful splinters into my hand, but I didn’t care.
“I can’t!” Eyes wide as he scuttled like a crab to back away from me, the air filled with the stench of fear, mingling with boiled cabbage and days old fish. It was enough to turn my stomach, which already churned with despair and a rage so sharp it scared the bejeezus out of me.
It was almost like someone else’s hands reached out and grabbed his lapels, hauling him closer, but it was me.
It was all me.
The threats, the violence. I’d been working my way through every witch in the book, talking to anyone with even a drop of magic in their veins. Hobbs was my last hope, and I wasn’t about to let him wriggle free until he helped me.
“Do you think I’m kidding?” I growled, my voice low and feral. “You’d better know how, or you’ll never leave this craphole again.” The flat, little more than a single room with a tiny bathroom crammed into one corner, was in the worst part of London. The kind of place where you could pick up tetanus just by looking at the stairwell, and God help you if you tried to drink the water.
The cheap fabric of his threadbare suit split under the pressure, and Hobbs tumbled to the ground, nose streaky with snot as he sobbed in abject terror. “I dunno know, miss. I don’t. I swear it on me mum’s eyes.”
In the old days I would’ve stopped. I would’ve accepted him at his word, but I needed him to be lying. There had to be a way.
“We can bring your mom into this if you like,” I replied smoothly, cornering him again. What I wouldn’t give for a good old compulsion, but he’d proven resistant. It meant he had power, power enough to do what I wanted. “But we’ll have to save that for later since she’s not here. Don’t you worry though, I’m not going anywhere. You and I are going to be bosom buddies until you do what I tell you.”
“Please... I done told you I can’t. Me mum’s not a part of this. She don’t even have the gift.”
“But you do,” I smiled, squatting on my haunches. “And there are plenty of other ways to convince you that I mean business. I’m guessing you might need your hands to cast the spell, but what about your toes?” My hand shot out, gripping his ankle tightly, hauling him upside down as I stood with easy grace.
Strength flowed through me, in complete control as he dangled like a fish on a hook. With my other thumb and forefinger, I counted off his toes. “This little piggy went to market.” A sharp wrench and a pop, and his toe hung at an awkward angle, quickly turning purple as he screamed. It didn’t matter. In a neighborhood like that, nobody would call the coppers. “This little piggy stayed home.”
He screamed again as I broke the second toe, his panic a sharp tang in the air that made my fangs descend in hunger.
“Should we see where the next piggy went?” I suggested, fingers moving on to the middle toe, but Hobbs only gibbered on, weeping uncontrollably, his accent thicker and unintelligible. “Alright, have it your way,” I sighed.
“An…” Bridget’s voice cut through the haze of violence. Any touch and I might’ve lost it, exploded in a rage, but that simple, plaintive note returned me to some semblance of control. She was right, this wasn’t getting us anywhere.
I let him go, and Hobbs slumped to the floor, immediately curling into the fetal position. I stared at him, completely immune to his suffering, even though I’d been the cause of it. No pity, no remorse. I felt nothing more than annoyance.
“You really don’t know how to bring him back?” Just saying the words left a sour taste in my mouth and any appetite for blood vanished.
Hobbs looked up, his eyes red rimmed with tears. “No, miss, I swear it. If I could help ya, I would.”
“Tell me who can do it then.”
“Nobody. I mean… bring someone back from the dead? Who can do sommat like that?”
Frak. I believed him. But this couldn’t be the end of the trail, it just couldn’t be. Looking down at the ring on my finger, my hand clenched into a fist, the hard stone biting into my palm. I welcomed the pain, because it was easier to deal with than the hollow feeling inside. The emptiness that I tried to stuff with rage and blood, but ended up emptier still.
Crouching beside him again, I got close enough to smell the rot of his teeth. “You don’t say a word about this to anyone. You don’t go warning any of your witchy friends what I’m looking for, unless it’s to find someone who can do what I want and bring them to me on a silver platter. Otherwise I will be back to have a nice quality visit with your mum. Do we understand each other?”
Hobbs’ teeth rattled as he nodded yes.
“Say it. You understand.”
“I unnerstand.”
Who needed compulsion?
* * *
I sucked in big breaths as soon as we stepped out into the cool night air, the fetid stench
having given me a headache. “How can people live like that?” I muttered, massaging my temples.
Bridget was unfazed. “I’ve stayed in worse.”
“I’m sorry.” I was too. Part of me rejoiced that I hadn’t lost all ability to feel compassion for another being, but I also felt partially responsible for her fall from grace.
“Wasn’t your fault,” she replied with a half shrug. “And to answer the question, most of them don’t have much of a choice.”
My head cleared almost instantly, the fresh air reviving me better than blood.
Blood.
I needed to feed again soon, but I pushed that need aside, consumed with a different obsession. Frustration built within me, taking only seconds to reach a dangerous head, and I lashed out at the nearest lamppost, staring at the impression my knuckles made.
“Hey, somebody’s gonna call the cops if you keep doing stuff like that.” Bridget’s brown eyes narrowed, dark curls bouncing as she looked up and down the street.
“Nobody cares,” I replied with a disgusted huff. “That’s the problem in this world. Nobody cares. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“I care,” she said softly, dabbing at the blood on my split knuckles. It was a sweet gesture, but I didn’t need her coddling. The skin was already healing like the wound had never happened. Why couldn’t my heart heal the same way? Then again, did I want it to? If I healed, then I would lose the drive to fix things. To go back to the way they’d been two months ago before my everything fell apart.
I decided no. I wasn’t ready to give up, not yet. “There has to be a way to do this. Maybe we should try France? They have witches there, right?”
“I’m sure they do, but I don’t happen to know any, and I’m guessing any witches with a website are the fluffy bunny Wiccans that don’t have the juice or the stones for what you have in mind.”
“You’re right.” My shoulders deflated. But where else could we turn?”
“Hey, here’s a wild thought, but what about Rob’s sister? She’s cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, but she’s pretty powerful. Isn’t she?”
Hope surged before crashing and burning all in the space of seconds. “I can’t ask her to do this. Not after how things went down with Rob.”
“Why not?”
“For one, she’s never forgiven me for turning Rob. You should’ve seen her the first time she saw him as a vamp. Second, I know she blames me for...”
“Dancing the cha cha on his heart? Ah, wasn’t that mostly his fault for not keeping it in his pants? Or, um... sorry. I shouldn’t bring that up.” Her cheeks flushed scarlet with guilt.
It didn’t bother me to talk about it, not anymore. “Let’s just say there were contributing factors on both sides, but a lot of it was because of the curse. The curse I brought on by turning him.”
“Which you also got reversed.”
“Rob’s... he’s in a dark place right now.”
Bridget let out an inelegant snort. “Which one are you, the pot or the kettle?”
“His might even be deeper than mine. And it’s all wrapped up in his feelings for me, feelings I can never, ever return, thanks to Jakob’s compulsion.”
“Also not your fault.”
“Look, I’m not saying it’s all my fault, but what good does that do if Leila thinks it is?”
“And I’m just saying it doesn’t hurt to ask. All she can say is no, right?”
She had a point. Letting out a long breath, I looked up at the sky. “It’s late. How about we go see her tomorrow night?” I didn’t think I could take any more disappointment for one night.
“Or you want me to go ask during the day?” she offered.
“No, I’ll do the asking.”
Bridget’s finger wagged, one red lacquered nail pointing at me. “As long as you can keep your temper in check.”
I looked up at the tenement window. “I know, I lost it back there.”
“You need blood.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“If you say so, but if I wake up to find you creeping on me…” The warning dropped out of her voice. “Actually, that’ll be fine. I still owe you big time.”
“No, you don’t.”
We argued most of the way back to the cramped motel room we shared. Sure, we could’ve stayed at the Ritz, or even the Vetis house, but I didn’t want to attract any attention that I was even in London. That wouldn’t last long if I kept roughing up witches, no matter how much I told them to stay quiet about it.
Bridget turned on the television as soon as we got to the room, but passed out halfway through some morning show called Breakfast. That left me all alone with a bottle of aquavit, trying to reach oblivion. I knew I’d been drinking entirely too much lately, but I was genuinely afraid to go to sleep. If things were hard during the night, they were ten times harder when my subconscious mind was given free reign. If I could drink enough, maybe I’d skip the worst of it. It worked some days.
Somehow I had the feeling today would be worse than usual, penance for my night’s activities. It was a losing battle, trying to stay awake while simultaneously drinking like a Norwegian sailor. Eventually, the day won. Clutching the empty bottle, I stared at the cracks in the ceiling as I felt myself slipping away.
Please, let me sleep like the dead tonight. Please don’t let me dream.
Chapter Two
The ocean was cold and black as the inside of a squid. I was drowning, and I didn’t care. Scratch that, I couldn’t drown if I didn’t have to breathe. I sucked in a big breath of sea water and it did nothing beyond tasting vile. I tried another, willing myself to sink. I was ready to be dragged down into the depths, but the bitter sea spit me back out, leaving me bobbing on the surface in a dead man’s float. But the ocean’s cold embrace was better than the flames. The flames were the greedy ones, the ones that stole my life away.
Hands on my lifeless body, fishing me out of the water. Why couldn’t they let me drift? There were shouts. I was flopped over like a rag doll, pounded on the back, and a gallon of seawater gushed out of my nose and mouth, my body drawing in a breath out of reflex.
I didn’t want to breathe.
I didn’t want to feel.
I didn’t want to smell the smoke on my clothes or the stench of death in the air.
There were questions, but I didn’t reply, and after a while, they stopped asking.
I almost cracked when I saw my parents in the rescue boat, the urge to curl up on my mom’s lap and weep for what I’d lost so strong, my muscles tensed to launch myself at her. But they didn’t know me. Not anymore.
Soft hands pulled at me, and I brushed them away before realizing it was Hanna. And now I did lose my fragile control, the sorrow escaping from all the cracks and seams of my heart. We cried together, clinging to each other as Mason sat there, too shell-shocked for words.
And slowly, the wreckage sank into the roiling sea.
* * *
Misery rolled over me as I came awake with a start, sorrow and loss mingling with the pounding in my head from the excess of alcohol. If I fed it would kill the headache, but I didn’t mind the pain. It gave me something else to focus on until the dream faded and the new night took shape.
Bridget was already up and around, so we didn’t waste any time catching a cab to Leila’s apartment. The walk up sparked memories of past visits with Rob in tow, and I wondered if he was in town. There were rumors he’d stopped working for the Toulac, and his name popped up in some unsavory places across Europe, but I had no real sense of what he was doing those days beyond the occasional cage fight for money.
The knock at the door brought a prompt response, Leila’s face lit with a sunny smile until she saw who it was and shrieked. She slammed it shut, but my vampire reflexes were faster than hers, and I wedged it back open. Maybe her wards might’ve once kept me out, but I’d been invited in, and there wasn’t a thing she could do when I forced my way inside. Bridget shut the door behind us, arms crossed over her chest.
Leila slumped to the ground, hands over her ears, long brown hair hanging in her face. “Don’t make me, I’ll split in two,” she cried piteously.
“Leila, I only want to talk to you,” I tried in a soft tone, but she wouldn’t listen, head shaking back and forth.
“Ain’t no sense in talking, the words have all been used up. My bones may break, but my spirit never will.”
A stab of guilt sliced through me. Did she know what I’d done to the other witch? “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You already done it. And my poor Robby, he’s been brought low.”
Crouching low so I’d be at her level, my head dipped to try and make eye contact. “I’m sorry. But I’m hurting too. You can feel it, can’t you?”
Blinking, she reached out, hand coming to rest over my chest. “Your pain is a blade, it cuts deeper the more you hold tight to it.” Tears spilled, pure agony reflected on her face, and it moved me, wanting to make it end.
I closed my hand around hers, pulling it away from my heart. “You can fix this. I know you can. Just help me bring him back.”
Her hand pulled free of mine, and Leila cradled it to her chest as if it’d been burned. “Don’t want no part of it. It’s unnatural.”
“All magic is unnatural, if you ask me,” Bridget snorted, and I shot her a quelling look.
“I’m not asking you to do anything wrong. You know he’s a good person.”
Leila shook her head, arms wrapping around her knees to rock in place. “All dead and gone and turned to ash. Ain’t nothing left for the spirits to sing to. Time to move on. Move forward, not back. Back is topsy turvy, back is dangerous. Best you move on.”
“That’s just it, I can’t move on. Not when there’s a chance to bring him back. And there’s a chance to bring him back, isn’t there?” I gripped her knees, forcing her to look at me. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be asking me to give it up.”