Blood Revolution (God Wars, #3)

by Suttle, Connie

  "This is nice," Winkler nibbled my ear. "How does against a wall sound, instead of the bed?"

  "You're driving," I pointed out.

  "Yeah. I guess I am. Now, what was it you were worrying about?"

  "Nothing." I buried my hands in his hair as he growled against my shoulder.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  Yeah, having a drink in a bar before going into KingDom's probably wasn't a good idea, but I only intended to have one. I'd found a bar across the street from the upscale dungeon, and I was fortifying my courage. At least that's what I kept telling myself.

  Probably the best decision I'd made after walking into the bar was choosing a back table so I could watch everybody who came in. Had I ever thought it a possibility? The breath was stolen from my body when the door opened again.

  Making sure I kept my shield tight around me, I watched as Gavin Montegue, the Gavin Montegue from the past, strolled to the bar and casually placed compulsion on the bartender to answer questions about the deaths of persons active in the BDSM community.

  * * *

  "Nine-millimeter Beretta. Nice," Hank examined the gun carefully. Bill's Department was arming Hank and Jayson for the evening.

  "Be careful, and approach Breanne cautiously if you see her," Bill instructed.

  "Yeah. I hear that," Hank nodded before shoving the gun in the waistband of his leather pants. "I'll get her out of there as soon as it's possible, too."

  "I've already sent three texts, Bell, begging her to reconsider. If she won't listen to me, I'm not sure she'll listen to you, either."

  "If she were human, I'd pull her out of there kicking and screaming if I had to," Jayson muttered before stuffing his borrowed gun into the waistband of his jeans.

  "But she's not, and you will do nothing of the kind," Bill barked. "Breanne is fragile, by your own admission, Bell, and you pushed her too hard today, also by your own admission. Whose fault is this?" Hank almost took a step back from Bill's anger. He'd misjudged the man, just as so many others before him had. Bill hadn't achieved his rank by being meek.

  "You're right," Hank nodded, his eyes meeting Bill's. "We'll approach cautiously. I'll try to convince her to come to you if things get bad."

  "This is a fact-finding mission," Bill growled. "Don't forget that. The guns are for your protection only, not for aggressive acts. Hear me?"

  "I hear you," Jayson mumbled.

  "Yeah," Hank agreed.

  "Then go. Find out what you can. Find Breanne if you can. If you care for her at all, you'll get down on your knees and beg if you have to, to get her back to us."

  * * *

  "I don't know if I've ever had my ass handed to me like that," Hank muttered as he and Jayson crossed the street to KingDom's.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  Who needs to walk anywhere when you can mist through? Especially when the place in question is filled with little rooms where people are binding, gagging, flogging, piercing, fucking, crawling and kneeling. At least my anger at Hank kept my mind clear and separate from what was happening all around me.

  Bill would be shocked, too, to hear that all the employees at KingDom's were obsessed. Every one of them. That was more than frightening. A few I read had committed murder. So far, they'd managed to get away with it.

  The dungeon monitors on duty were doing little more than observing, even when things seemed to be getting out of hand. Why was that happening? Was there a purpose behind it? Since I couldn't read the obsession—past the recognition that the employees had one, I had no idea.

  My mind raced through possibilities, and I discarded them almost as soon as they popped into my brain. That's when I saw them. Hank and Jayson, as promised. Well, they could go fuck themselves.

  I hadn't found evidence of a Sirenali, either, so I had no idea where it might be. The only places I hadn't checked were the administrative offices, on the top floor of the three-story building. I misted in that direction.

  Should I have suspected it, since all the windows were covered in thick, dark film? Keir Arthur and Oscar Forde were drinking from two women when I found them inside the main office. These women weren't willing participants in the bloodletting, either. Both were visitors to KingDom's, and both had compulsion laid to keep them compliant.

  While I hovered overhead, waiting for the vampires to finish their meal and let the women go, the last thing I expected to happen did, and it sent me screaming into action.

  Chapter 8

  Breanne's Journal

  Gavin burst into the office as if he knew what was happening inside. With claws and fangs out and a growl I recognized easily, Gavin rounded on Keir Arthur.

  "Stand back or they get it," Oscar Forde hissed. Both women were held against his chest with one arm, while the other hand, equipped with long claws, lay across their throats.

  That's when I pulled the women away in my mist and flung them toward the door before appearing in front of Oscar, my claws and fangs ready for battle.

  "Just handle yours, this one's mine," I hissed at Gavin, who stared at me in shock. No, he didn't recognize me. This Gavin hadn't ever met me. What he did recognize, however, was my scent—I'd dropped my shields when I became corporeal.

  At least Gavin quickly focused on Keir again—after Keir punched him in the jaw. That's always an attention-getter.

  "Well, well, well, a female vampire," Oscar laughed as he took in my scent. "What do you think you might do against me?"

  "Want to find out?" I wiggled my long claws at him. Oscar lunged. I went to mist. He slammed into the wall at my back.

  "Are my eyes deceiving me?" Oscar said when I came back to myself. "Do we have a mister, here?" He eyed me speculatively as we squared off again. "I thought it took much longer for a vampire to turn to mist."

  Deep-red eyes studied me while Gavin and Keir fought across the room. A lamp broke and the light dimmed while glass sprinkled against opaque windows. I realized I didn't have time to pay attention to Gavin's battle; I had to keep my guard up with Oscar.

  "Maybe you're just hallucinating," I said as Keir thumped into a wall. Gavin was efficient when he fought, there was no denying that, and Keir was beginning to show signs of wear. Gavin, on the other hand, appeared almost fresh and untouched, except for the bit of blood on his chin where Keir's ring had clipped him.

  "You're just a baby," Oscar tossed a barb my way. "Baby want a bottle?" he laughed. Well, he shouldn't have done that. I misted forward and allowed claws only to form. His head rolled across the floor only a blink later. Quick death, just as Hank said.

  If I'd known what killing Oscar would trigger, I might have done things differently. No, I hadn't bothered to read him, and it was a little late for that, now. The administrative offices took up the entire top floor and vampires boiled in from surrounding rooms seconds after Oscar's death. Was I prepared to take on all of them, with only Gavin Montegue as backup? No way.

  * * *

  "Something's happening," Bill shouted into his cell. "Get the hell out of there!"

  "We don't have Breanne." Hank's reply was terse.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  Why does time slow down at critical moments? I saw Gavin go down under a mob of vampires as I went to mist. If Gavin died, so much of the future would change or die with him. Yes, I should have been paying attention, but as someone pointed out to me before; I wasn't the Mighty Mind.

  How many deaths would change the future? Who might be targeted? Gavin had become a target—that was obvious. The enemy, just as I suspected, was still alive in some way. Yes, I may have killed his slaves or servants, but he was still out there, determined to destroy what he could.

  I couldn't Change What Was without making myself a target again. Expending power similar to a Larentii? That seemed to have no negative impact.

  Diving into a pile of seething vampires, I pulled a semiconscious Gavin into my mist and flew through the roof. Then, while hover
ing over the building, I considered what to do next.

  I'm sorry, Bill, I sent, before extending power identical to a Larentii's and filtering the obsessed from those not obsessed. Hank and Jayson, too, I lifted away with the others who held no obsession. After dumping the innocent on the sidewalk across the street, I imploded the building beneath me. The boom shook the buildings nearby, but no harm was done to them. Nobody inside KingDom's survived, though, and that included thirty-seven vampires.

  * * *

  "What the hell just happened?" Thurman Bray, San Francisco's Chief of Police demanded.

  "Thurman, there's no need to shout. I lost someone inside that building," Bill said. "If I knew what happened, I'd tell you."

  "There's proof that the management was connected to those college girl murders two years ago," Jayson handed a flash drive to Bill. "Hank and I managed to get that before we uh, got out."

  "Did you have anything to do with that pile of rubble out there?" Thurman tossed out a hand in disbelief.

  "My agent here had nothing to do with that," Bill snarled. "And unless you can determine how a nine millimeter could cause that kind of destruction—because that's how he was armed—then shut the hell up."

  "You think the management did that—you think they knew they were caught?" Thurman attempted to calm Bill down.

  "That's my guess—that they had this in the plans in case we came snooping. We came snooping tonight. Now we're left with a missing agent, who knows how many dead and a big pile of rubble." Bill shook his head.

  They'd taken over a back room at the bar across the street as a makeshift command post while officers, agents and medical personnel examined the remains of a three-story building. So far, only crushed bodies had been removed.

  "Never figured you for an undercover agent, Rome," Thurman mumbled to Jayson before walking away.

  "Keep that to yourself," Bill barked.

  "Got it," Thurman tossed up a hand and kept walking.

  "Jayson, where's Hank?" Bill covered his face with shaking hands.

  "Said he had something to do." Jayson pulled out a chair and sat adjacent to Bill. Bill lowered his hands and stared at Jayson.

  The bar's back room was reserved for parties and special occasions, with tables scattered throughout. Bill had chosen a table against the back wall to set up, and that's where he'd been for the last two hours, working the investigation with Thurman and the Fire Chief. The whole time, he'd been terrified for Breanne.

  The Fire Chief hadn't stayed long—there was no fire to put out. He'd found that puzzling but didn't argue. He did leave his paramedics behind, however, to help those wandering about. Some of those affected were naked or nearly so; others were dressed in unusual ways. All of them seemed confused and unaware of how they'd gotten out of the building.

  "Is he looking for her?" Bill asked Jayson.

  "I don't know," Jayson sighed. "Hell, I'd like to look for her, but I have no idea where to start."

  "Opal's trying to track her, but there are no signs or scents to track," Bill said, pulling his cell from a pocket and scrolling through messages. "No word since the last time I checked," he pocketed the phone.

  "I don't believe this." Jayson raked fingers through smudged blond hair. He and the others who'd survived had been coated with a fine dusting of pulverized concrete when the building went down.

  "You don't believe it? I have to explain it—to the President," Bill said.

  * * *

  "Hanlekidus?" he approached cautiously. He knew what his instructions had cost the one before him.

  Hanlekidus Frebell, known to those on Earth as Hank Bell and as Li'Neruh Rath elsewhere, raised angry, dark eyes to the Mighty Mind. Hank sat at a booth at Bogey's Bar & Grill, located just outside the Castro District and not far from the club he owned.

  "Wisdom," Hank snarled the name.

  "I know you're upset," Wisdom, gray eyes expressing concern, took a seat across from Hank. "I understand that completely, and I'm sorry it's costing you like this."

  "You understand nothing," Hank growled. "She thinks I'm nothing but an abusive asshole, now."

  "She needed to be angry. It gave her enough energy to do what was necessary."

  "I don't disagree with the result, just the method," Hank snapped. "And don't give me any patronizing shit about making it up to her later."

  "You really have gone native, haven't you?"

  "Wasn't that the point?"

  "I have no idea what the point was. I didn't witness your conversation with a Shining One."

  "It was The Ear," Hank rumbled.

  "Ah. So everything said went straight to the One, then."

  "Yes."

  "Interesting, but irrelevant," Wisdom mused.

  "What about Breanne?"

  "She'll be away from you for a few days," Wisdom said.

  "That's not acceptable."

  "You'll have to accept it. I realize this is painful, but it is necessary, I assure you."

  "Will she be protected?" Hank's words were a plea.

  "I can't guarantee that, any more than I can guarantee my own safety. You know why. I do have a way of tracking her, now, and that in itself is highly irregular."

  "Irregular? I didn't think there was any way to track the Vhanaraszh that she is."

  "That is true for all others. I recently came across information that enables me to find her."

  "What is that?" Hank leaned back and studied Wisdom for a moment. He knew this was Wisdom's true appearance—gray eyes, dark hair, slightly taller than Hank, too. "In case there's an emergency and I need to find her," he added.

  "I cannot release that information—it could place her in danger. More than she's in already," Wisdom replied. "If you have need, contact me. I'll determine whether your reasons are sound enough to attempt to find her."

  "And this thing—whatever it is—won't harm her?"

  "I didn't say it was a thing, because it's not," Wisdom said. "And yes, there is potential for harm from that source, so I have taken steps to minimize that possibility."

  "So it's a who."

  "I didn't say that."

  "You're not denying it."

  "True," Wisdom grinned. Hank lifted an eyebrow.

  * * *

  "Sheriff Trevor?" Corent cautiously stepped inside Trevor's Casino City office.

  "Corent?" Trevor blinked at the half-fae in surprise, although he kept a tight rein on any further display of emotion. Trevor knew who Corent was, but Lissa's Chief Gardener had never sought him out before.

  "I came to ask a question," Corent nodded his thanks when Trevor indicated a chair in front of his desk. Corent sat down uncomfortably.

  "What's that? Having problems with apple thieves?"

  "Not recently," Corent shook his head. "That's not the kind of question I have."

  "What's the question, then?" Trevor toyed with the comp-vid lying on his desk.

  "Do you remember Breanne?"

  "Breanne?"

  "You know, the one Skel Hawer almost killed," Corent rolled his shoulders, as if they were tight with tension. Corent's hair, too, seemed to have a mind of its own as it transformed from pale to deep blue and back again.

  "Oh. Her. No—don't remember much about her or that case. You might talk to Lissa or Norian, though. They'll know more. Why do you ask?"

  "Because I think something's wrong," Corent replied. "I know this is forward of me to say, but you should know more than you do about that case, Sheriff. Much, much more."

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  Larentii are amazing healers. I employed their skills to bring Gavin back to normal. His body, attuned to the night, breathed beneath my hand. I sat, cross-legged, next to my vampire sire's prone body. I'd transported him to the roof of a building near the Presidio after imploding KingDom's, so I could tend his wounds. It had been close; several claws had pierced his body before I could get to him, and at least one vampire had almost reached Gavin's throat before I could pull hi
m away.

  Was I comfortable, staring down at the face of my (at best) indifferent and (at worst) abusive sire? No. I was decidedly uncomfortable. I'd done a reading, however, while employing a Larentii's healing skills to Gavin's wounded body, and I knew if I didn't stay close to him in the following weeks, he'd die. I kept seeing his death repeatedly, until it was burned on my brain.

  I couldn't let that happen. Not only would Lissa's life be affected, the Campiaan Alliance wouldn't exist. As much as I despised Teeg San Gerxon, he'd served a useful purpose and without Gavin, Teeg wouldn't be. I couldn't deny that, even if I wanted to do so.

  Gavin groaned and moved. I watched as his eyes popped open. "Feel better?" I asked as kindly as I could. I knew this Gavin didn't know me from any other vampire, so I was willing to cut him a little slack. Until his true colors came to the fore, that is.

  "You're a mister," his speech was rough.

  "Not the first words I expected from you," I said, "but you're right. I am a mister. And I have mindspeech. I have some Elemaiyan blood. I know you know what that means."

  "That you're more likely to have those gifts, although I can't recall both in the same vampire." He sat up and leaned on an elbow, studying me. "You're Breanne Hayworth, from the book."

  "Yeah. I'm Breanne Hayworth, all right," I muttered.

  "Who turned you?"

  "I can't say," I said. Well, it was true. If I said he did—in the future—how much trouble might that cause?

  "You were instructed not to tell," Gavin straightened and raked fingers through short, dark-brown hair.

  "I guess," I shrugged.

  Gavin softly cursed the compulsion of my sire. I wanted to laugh, because he was cursing himself.

  "Everyone was looking for you," Gavin observed. At that moment, how glad was I that my recent, short stint on television, courtesy of Colbi Wayde, reporter, had been after sunset?

  "Yeah."

  "How long have you been vampire?"

  "I can't say."

  "Do you know if your sire was a rogue?"

  "It was my understanding that he wasn't," I replied.

  "Did he teach you the vampire laws?"

  "I can recite all the vampire laws. I can even do them backward, if you'd like."