by Ann Gimpel
Viktor’s shoulders sagged, and he quit struggling. He had to remain alive, head attached to his shoulders. If Raph killed him, and he was more than capable of that, there’d be no one to shepherd Ketha to the protected mesa.
Juan let go and jerked his chin back the way they’d come.
“I can’t leave her there,” Viktor protested, fighting a welter of frantic feelings that made him long for the iron blade to end Raphael.
“You have no choice.” Juan’s hazel eyes bored into Viktor. “If Raph kills you, you won’t be any help to anyone.”
“Yeah. The same thought crossed my mind. So I just hope for the best, eh?” Viktor choked back bitter laughter.
“That’s exactly what you do.” Juan kept his voice low. “We return to town and pretend we could give a shit less what Raph is up to. Later today, after he’s occupied with something else, that’s the time for us to make sure the Shifter is all right.”
Viktor glanced up the mountain toward where the cells were, battling conflicting priorities. When Juan tugged on his arm, he followed him muttering, “If that bastard harms Ketha in any way, I won’t rest until he’s dead.”
“He won’t damage her. Not yet anyway.” Juan sounded certain.
“Why not?”
“She’s a novelty.” Juan shrugged. “They’re few and far between these days. Once he kills her, game’s over.”
Viktor turned it over in his mind. Perhaps his friend was right. Viktor had been reacting, so taken by Ketha, his primary focus was spiriting her to the mesa where she’d be safe.
Safe, so long as he was very careful how he orchestrated things.
The specter of Raphael in the cell with her, doing God only knew what, had pushed him to an ugly place, one where protecting her overshadowed everything, and he’d gone a little nuts.
He cast a sheepish look Juan’s way. “Thanks.”
“De nada. What are friends for?”
“I have no idea. You’re the only one I have left.”
Sadness flickered across Juan’s face, but it left fast, and the other Vamp quickened his steps.
Viktor’s nostrils flared with disgust. He’d caved under Juan’s arguments, but he wasn’t any happier about it now than he’d been when he reluctantly turned around. A rock sat square in his path, and he kicked it out of the way, wishing it were his sire’s head.
The air near him blurred, and Raphael took shape, dripping menace. “Nice, you finally detached yourself from the jaguar meat. That is where you were, right?”
Magic blasted into Viktor’s head, sharp with the unpolished clumsiness of a Vampire truth spell. He stole a sidelong glance at his sire. What the hell had happened? Raphael’s eyes were gray storm clouds, all traces of blue long gone.
Viktor rubbed his temples and tried for an injured look. “Why’d you do that? I was dressing out the jaguar, just like you said.”
“What about you?” Raphael grabbed Juan’s arm and spun him around.
“I’ve been with Viktor. Once we finished with the jaguar, we went looking for you like we do every morning.” Juan trained candid eyes on their sire.
Determination to find out what happened burned a path through Viktor, but he knew better than to appear too eager. Raphael was deranged enough, he’d blurt something out sooner or later.
“Now that we’ve located you,” Viktor said evenly, “what are today’s priorities?”
Raphael sputtered, seemingly beyond forming words. He gestured with both hands before dropping them to his sides. “We have a problem. Fixing it is today’s priority.” His voice—once he located it—held the deadly quiet quality Viktor had come to dread. “Find the Shifter.”
“What Shifter?” Juan asked, and Viktor could’ve high-fived him.
Raphael’s perfect skin turned an unattractive shade of red. “The one from up there.” He stabbed an index finger toward the mountain and shimmered into nothingness.
Two other Vamps ran onto the quay moments after Raphael disappeared. “Fuck!” Mario spat out the word. Dark hair streamed behind him, and fury flashed from his dark eyes.
“Fuck, indeed,” Gene seconded. “Christ! Raph was out of there before we could figure out what happened. I hate it that he can move like a goddamned wraith when we have to run the old-fashioned way.” As fair as the other Vamp was dark, Gene’s blond hair was hacked off to uneven lengths. Both Vamps wore a mish-mash of rags held together with tape.
Viktor tamped down elation racing through him. Apparently, Ketha had engineered her own escape. “What happened?” he asked, seeking corroboration for his suspicions. “I’ve rarely seen our sire in such a temper.”
Mario tossed his hands skyward. “We were going to ask the Shifter a few questions. Raph wanted details about the Vamp-Shifter coalition she claimed started the Cataclysm.”
“Yeah,” Gene chimed in, blue eyes glittering with glee. “We were going to hurt her a little. Make her squeal.”
“Except she wasn’t there,” Mario said. “Poked a hell of a hole in our sport for the day.”
“Any idea how long ago she escaped?” Juan asked. “Or which way she went?”
Mario made an unattractive snorting sound. “Raph left way too fast for any detective work.”
“We were all about catching him.” Gene screwed his face into a frown.
“No problem.” Juan made shooing motions with one hand. “Why don’t the two of you see if you can calm Raphael down? Viktor and I will check the cell for clues.”
“Hey! That’d be great.” Mario clapped Juan on the shoulder. “We’ll take our time before we approach Raphael, though. Maybe he’ll regain some perspective if we give him an hour or three.”
“Good plan. If we show up now, he’ll probably have us wash the floor with our tongues. After he’s pissed on it.” Gene dissolved into guffaws over his own joke and set off for the center of town, still laughing. Mario followed him.
Viktor didn’t say a word. Vampires had excellent hearing, and he didn’t want to give anything away. Not his elation. Nor his relief. This latest development meant he had to find Ketha to ensure her safety, but that felt simple enough. Particularly compared with his previous plan that had included springing her from her cell.
No need to do that anymore.
He turned and ran along the quay toward the track to the cells. Juan loped by his side. Viktor’s head still hurt from Raphael’s blundering truth spell. They were halfway up the dirt track to the cells when Juan ventured, “Seems to have worked out all right.”
Viktor angled his head, speaking low. “Raph won’t rest until she’s dead.”
“I know. Not many places to hide, either, on this side of the barrier. No one can cross it and live. Make no mistake, Raph will set every Vamp in Ciudad de Huesos after her, probably with some delectable prize for whoever captures her.”
Viktor didn’t reply. What could he say? That his next move after ensuring Ketha’s safety would be to kill his sire? The less Juan knew, the better. He didn’t want his friend compromised. They reached the opening to the tunnel leading to the cells. The barred gate stood wide open, and Viktor inhaled, sorting scents.
“Yeah,” Juan muttered. “I tried that. Most of what I smell is Raphael’s fury. Eau de carrion raised to the nth power.”
Viktor tamped back a wry grin. The stench of the Master Vamp’s anger was overpowering, but beneath it, Viktor caught the wildflower and beech tree scents unique to Ketha. He ached for her but didn’t understand why. Vampirism should have moved him beyond caring about anyone.
“Don’t fight it,” Juan murmured.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Viktor ducked through the tunnel and walked briskly to his old cell.
“You care about her. It’s a gift that you can still feel anything for anyone,” Juan continued.
Viktor didn’t reply, mostly because the topic made him uncomfortable. He stared at the open cell door and tried to shut it, but the locking mechanism was broken. When he touched
the pad to reset it, nothing happened. He whistled long and low. “Jesus! She broke it with magic.”
“It appears so. Maybe you didn’t notice, but she did the same thing to the main gate.” Juan strode into the cell, glancing around. “She didn’t leave anything.” He picked up a cloth sack from the dirt floor. “And she ate what I left for her.”
“Maybe food gave her the energy she needed to escape.” Viktor breathed deep, letting her scent fill his lungs.
“Do you suppose she returned to the Shifters’ enclave?” Juan walked to the waterfall cascading down the back wall and drank, slurping noisily.
“I doubt it. She’s smart enough to know it’s the first place we’d hunt for her—assuming we could find it. One Shifter is easier to hide than twelve.” Viktor creased his forehead, thinking. “Bet wherever they lived is empty. Hopefully, Ketha told them she’d been captured, and they were smart enough to go to ground. I wouldn’t put it beyond Raph to send a posse to smoke out the women.”
Juan grimaced. “Think what he could do with the bunch of them. Watching someone near and dear to you tortured does tend to loosen the tongue.”
Viktor balled his hands into fists. “It only works like that if they know anything useful. Maybe Ketha didn’t tell the rest of them where she is. Jesus! How the fuck did we end up like this? Enslaved to that soulless monster.”
“You don’t really want me to answer that. We had a choice. That choice was life, so we grabbed it.”
“And turned into monsters ourselves.”
“It’s not the same, and you know it. We’re Vampires, yeah, but I see differences in some of us.”
“Eh, maybe we haven’t been Vamps long enough for evil to percolate all the way into our souls. Come on, Juan. We can talk while we’re tracking.”
Viktor sprinted out of the cell and through the tunnel. He thought about Juan’s words as he raced down the winding trail. Once he was back on asphalt, he stopped long enough to ascertain Ketha had worked her way around the base of the mountain. She’d kept to back-streets clogged with piles of desiccated bones.
“The thing is”—Juan drew alongside him—“who we were before shaped who we are as Vampires. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t true before the Cataclysm. Any Vamps created back then were all badasses. Rotten clean through.”
Viktor cast an appraising glance his way. “Do you spend much time thinking about stuff like that?”
Color stained Juan’s stubble-covered cheeks. “Not a lot, but some.” He inhaled audibly. “I spend more time missing being at sea.”
“The Southern Ocean, it gets into your blood,” Viktor agreed. “We still have a ship in dry dock here. I visit her occasionally.”
Juan’s eyes widened, and he grinned. “I thought I was the only one who snuck in to check on Arkady.”
“I’m there often enough, I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other. It’s the only place Raph’s never followed me. Vamps hate ships, probably because water mutes their ability, but I’ve been careful to keep Arkady’s presence a secret.”
“Me too,” Juan muttered. “It’s been a relief to have somewhere to retreat to when I wanted to be invisible for a while.”
Viktor exhaled sharply. “If it weren’t for the barrier, I’d have sailed out of here long since. Taken my chances with the wind and tides.”
“If you ever decide to do that”—Juan’s tone turned deadly serious—“take me with you.”
“Deal.” Viktor shifted course, following Ketha’s scent behind a concrete-block building. Her presence was stronger here, indicating she’d paused her headlong flight.
“Wonder why she stopped here,” Juan murmured.
“I bet she sensed Raph and the other two. They were probably only a few streets over, following the main boulevard.” Pain for Ketha jabbed him. She must have steel balls to have remained immobile with Vamps only a few hundred yards away.
“She went this way from here.” Juan pointed and set off at a lope.
Viktor caught up. If it was this easy for them to track her, how the fuck could he hope to hide her from Raphael’s wrath? He wished he understood how Shifter magic worked. She had ways of warding herself, but that particular magic didn’t mask traces of her presence once she’d left a place.
Juan circled a manhole cover, shaking his head. “I don’t get it. Her trail went cold. I thought maybe I could pick it up if I checked a full three hundred sixty degrees, but it’s gone.”
Viktor bent and dragged the heavy manhole cover aside. “Mystery solved.” He angled a thumb through the hole. “She went that way.”
Juan jumped through the opening, laughing. “No wonder you like her. You two think the same. You use these underground walkways too, as I recall.”
“Ssht. Never know who might hear you.” Viktor clung to the ladder and jimmied the cover back over the hole. He dialed in his Vamp vision to see in the suddenly black-as-night space and climbed down to where Juan waited.
The warren of tunnels was familiar, and Viktor led the way down branching side paths until they stood next to a wooden door painted with runic markings. He’d been through this portion of the tunnel system before and chalked the runes up to some pre-Cataclysm magic-wielder.
Juan, who’d been silent since Viktor shushed him, pointed at the door and raised his eyebrows. Viktor shrugged, not at all certain they could enter the Shifters’ lair. For all he knew, it was spelled to destroy anyone who tried to get in.
He closed his eyes and listened intently. Other than the chittering of bats, rats, and mice, the old sewer system lay silent. If this had been where the Shifters lived, they’d left. And not all that long ago since many Shifter scents mingled with Ketha’s.
“It’s odd.” He kept his voice very low.
“What’s odd?” Juan whispered back.
“I’ve been through this section of tunnels hundreds of times and never caught a whiff of Shifter.”
“Which proves they’re not here,” Juan replied.
Viktor agreed. If they were, their magic would have masked their presence. He placed tentative fingers on the latch, fully expecting it to burn him or freeze him or explode. Nothing happened. When he twisted the knob, it turned easily, opening to a metal staircase. Viktor started up it. No point in masking his presence. If he was wrong, and Shifters remained above, they’d sense him with their superior magic.
One more door and he stood in a small chamber. A bed and dresser took up virtually all the floor space, and Ketha’s scent was overpowering. He resisted an urge to lie on her bed and breathe her in, but his cock thickened with wanting her.
Juan walked past him, opening a door on the far side of the room. Viktor followed him through. It led to a long hallway dotted with closed doors, which in turn led to what must’ve been the women’s common area. A table reached from one end to the other. As he’d suspected, the grotto was deserted. The absence of items suggested the Shifters had abandoned it for good.
“Where do you suppose they went?” Juan asked.
“No idea, but I bet Ketha knows,” Viktor replied, adding, “They communicate telepathically. We should keep moving.”
“Which way?”
It was a reasonable question. Viktor walked to yet another door he figured led up and out and inhaled, hunting for fresh traces of Ketha’s scent. He smelled her here, but he smelled her everywhere in the Shifters’ home. Her energy folded around him like a homing beacon, comforting and arousing by turns. The erection that had formed in her bedroom throbbed hotly between his legs.
He shifted his focus, putting himself in her place. She’d taken to the tunnels as soon as she could move about unnoticed. That likely meant she’d continue to use them. “Let’s go back down,” Viktor said, and retraced his steps.
“It’s as good a plan as any,” Juan agreed. “If she stayed in the tunnel, we’ll catch her scent past where we detoured in here.”
Viktor stepped into her bedroom and pulled dresser drawers open. Clothing remained, but the d
resser was half-empty. Either she hadn’t had much to begin with, or she’d taken things with her. Juan walked past him and clattered down steel risers to the tunnel system below. Viktor felt like a fool, but he couldn’t stop himself from closing a hand over a threadbare flannel shirt and burying his face in it.
Ketha blasted into his brain. He could see her, feel her, taste her, and his cock jerked in his trousers, on the verge of release. He’d ignored the sexual side of himself since being turned, but it refused to take a back seat anymore. Some of the Vampires amused themselves by fucking, but he’d always shunned their invitations.
“Hurry,” Juan called in a stage whisper. “She went this way.”
Telling his overheated libido to take a hike, Viktor hurried down the stairs, shutting the door behind him.
“What were you doing?” Juan asked.
“Nothing important.” Viktor ran through the tunnel, tracking traces of wildflowers and Antarctic beech. He was moving so fast, he almost missed where she’d turned hard left and passed beneath one of many archways lining the underground passageway.
“I smelled her out there”—Juan jerked his chin behind them—“but not right now. What happened?”
Viktor placed a finger over his mouth. If he was right about how Ketha’s warding worked, she might be very close. Muted rustling from above them drew his attention, and he raced up one flight of stairs.
Ketha—her mouth stretched into a horrified moue—was half in and half out of a welter of quilts, dragging a backpack into place.
“Excellent!” Juan said softly. “We found you.”
“Don’t,” she moaned, flinching away from both of them. “Kill me, but don’t deliver me to that monster.”
“We’re not going to hurt you.” Viktor reached for her, desperate to draw her against him, comfort her, erase the wounded-deer look from her face.
Ketha didn’t fall into his arms like he hoped. Instead, she let go of her pack and flattened herself into a corner, fear streaming off her. The human part of him, the part that still felt, withered under her reaction. How could she believe he meant her harm? Or worse, that he’d hand her over to Raphael?