Prey till the End (The Endangered Series Book 3)

by S. L. Eaves

  “Sure.”

  She nods then exchanges glances with Rex before disappearing down the hall.

  “Yeah this place is a mess, but I’m too tired to tackle it. I don’t even want to know what shape they left our labs in,” Xan shakes his head. “Thanks for the save, Lori.” He pats my back, “Let's catch up later. Don't go running off in that suit.”

  I smile, “I’m not going anywhere just yet.”

  Rex takes the duffle bag from my hands. “I’ll take this. Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be better once I get out of this suit. But yeah, I'm fine. Mostly I’m relieved you’re all right, all things considered.”

  “Vega found you then?”

  “He did, pesky Pureblood that one.”

  “I’m glad he did,” Rex smiles and heads down the hall after Crina, “I’m going to settle in. I know you lived here for a while so I assume you know your way around? All the same, let me know if you need anything.”

  Chapter 9

  The rusty hinges creak and I look up to see Crina inching open the heavy wooden door of the library.

  “The place is looking normal again, I take it we have you to thank for cleaning up?”

  I set down a book I’ve been skimming, “Didn’t know what to do with Jiro, put his ashes in a vase. I’m sure there’s something more appropriate.”

  “The vase is a nice touch.”

  “Has anyone been in here in years?” I ask her, blowing dust off some of the library’s rare volumes. “Good thing we don’t need to breathe.”

  “Not since Marcus passed.” Crina brushes cobwebs from the dim lights. “Looking for anything in particular?”

  “Not really, just thought maybe I’d find a good book to burn daylight with.”

  It is mid-morning and the sun is shining brightly outside, but you wouldn’t know it inside this mansion. Every window and door in this place is sealed against daylight and lined with layers of blackout curtains.

  “Want some company?” Crina walks over and pulls up a chair by the table with a dusty chess board and a sad looking lamp. I’m standing on the other side of it. I slide the volume back in its space on the shelf and take the seat across from her.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  I can’t get a read on her. She’s not big on small talk. I suspect she still doesn’t like me, despite being absolved of Marcus’ accusations. We were close once. After Catch, Crina and Marcus were my biggest mentors when I came into their clan amidst the war. But things took a big step backwards when she thought I was working with a government agency to hunt vampires.

  It’s been awhile since we’ve been in the same room together without it ending in violence. I suppose trust is key here, not really whether she likes me. She’s big on loyalty and for reasons, some of them justified; it’s safe to assume she does not view me as loyal or trustworthy.

  “Thinking about Jiro, trying to make sense of this past week's events...Do you believe in fate?” she asks rather contemplatively.

  This was just about the last thing I expected.

  I shift in my seat. “Not in the conventional sense. I used to … another lifetime ago when I was human. I leaned heavily on religion when I lost loved ones. I tried to see the big picture. I convinced myself there was a plan, that destiny was a thing, that they went somewhere better...now well, I don't know. I haven't believed in much in years.”

  She nods. “I can’t say I ever did myself. But when you do what you believe is right and get punished for it, you can’t help but wonder where you stand in the eyes of the ones you …well, worship. You know, just all that time trapped in the glass wondering what the Purebloods were punishing me for… I guess if that was my fate in the end, why did I ever lift a finger for them? Yet it is so ingrained in my psyche I feel horrible even thinking it. I guess I always believed I was the one doing the right thing. To learn that my fate is no different than those who disobeyed the Purebloods, it…it makes me question everything.”

  “If it helps, you’re here right now because of your devotion to them.”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know if it does help. My actions have always been in line with what I thought the Purebloods valued. My loyalty has been unwavering. I’m obedient and I don’t abuse my power. I feel like that should count for something. I guess I always thought they'd have my back, not turn on me at the drop of a dime.”

  I think about the numerous humans she’s gunned down. The werewolves she’s hunted that weren’t even known killers. And I’m just picturing those I’ve witnessed personally. She’s roughly a century older than me and one of the most lethal vampires I’ve ever met. So to hear her now sitting in front of me genuinely believing all the blood on her hands is for a greater good is somewhat baffling. But then again, she views herself as a soldier. These Purebloods have governed and shaped her existence. I don’t know what I find more disturbing about that logic, that I completely agree with her point, or that this is the definition of a sociopath.

  So I answer her best I can. “It should count that your intentions are honorable. Thing is I don’t think anyone’s counting. With the Purebloods, they put so much emphasis on those two attributes – loyalty and obedience – you’d think it would matter. They certainly seem quick to lash out if you go against them. But do they reward you for your servitude? It seems like they care more about instilling fear and exercising their will, than recognizing vampires for their efforts in preserving their order. They'd rather be feared than revered.”

  “Attacking us, holding us captive – all I could picture was that somehow Marcus had returned to take his revenge.”

  He's not the one who has returned.

  She stares contemplatively at the chess board. “What if they're all like Marcus? Consumed by power and selfish desires. I thought they looked after us, protected us, thought of us as their kin, their children...Now I don't know what to think anymore.”

  I’d have a change of heart too if my idols attacked me and caged me in a glass coffin.

  “They don’t view us as their children. They view us as failed experiments.”

  She looks up from the chess piece she’s been rolling in her hand.

  “That’s so fucked up.”

  “They also claim to have rewarded Marcus for his loyalty.”

  She raises her eyebrows at me, awaiting an explanation.

  “They gave him their blood, made him powerful. They gave him permission to set the fire. They authorized all of it.”

  At that she starts to say something, it comes out as a stutter. She sets the chess piece down, her eyes clouded and vacant.

  “Of course. That explains why they never punished him. They told you that?”

  “Yes. Crina, they aren’t gods. They may act like it. And they may be powerful enough to control us, bend our will and even decide our fates to a certain extent but if there’s a heaven they don’t decide who gets in.”

  I want to tell her not to trust them. Not to serve them. But I can't. We will have to do their bidding one last time if we want a fate other than glass coffins and sunlight. I have to tread lightly here.

  “There was a time I was close with Adrian. I miss him so much. He never failed to be a voice of reason. He was the epitome of everything a Pureblood was supposed to stand for. He was a natural leader who didn't abuse his power. Now the Purebloods are these faceless demons who haunt us like ghosts.”

  “And Vega.”

  “Yes, and Vega. After his stance on the war, I’ll never hold him in the same regard.”

  Nodding, I dig a cigarette from the pack in my back pocket and hunt around for the Zippo I'd set down around here somewhere.

  “Did they tell you why they dusted Jiro? Why him and not us?”

  Finding the lighter I look up at her as I busy myself lighting my cigarette.

  “Not exactly. But maybe they set him free. Maybe they had just enough mercy to relieve him of this world.”

  “You really believe that?” Crina asks as she tak
es the cigarette from my extended hand. I proceed to light another one.

  “Doesn't matter what I believe. It's what I want for him. And Catch. And Trent. And everyone we've lost who deserved better.”

  “The common belief is that vampirism is a gift. It's supposed to be a privilege. I remember my human years the way an adult remembers their early childhood. It's a murky watercolor imprint on my brain. While my friends were getting married and starting families I was with Dominique. I devoted my life to him - kept his secrets, helped him live amongst humans and he rewarded me for it. I loved the mystery, the romance, the intrigue, I wanted every part of this world. While every single one of us sacrificed something to get here, most of us did it happily.

  “You hate it though. And you don't make a secret about it. And that latent hostility affected your relationships with everyone in this house. It also made it seem as though you were constantly punishing yourself for something you didn't do. Those two factors are a big part in why things went south with the clan. We started to believe you had actually done something worthy of punishment. Anyways, part of me wondered if that self-loathing was going to send you right into the sunlight. I'm glad it didn't.”

  We regard each other in silence. I find a mug to use as an ash tray as set it next to the chess board.

  Finally I force a smile. “You really think I fought that hard just to throw it all away? You're right though. A part of me believes we're in hell. This. Right now. If I were a righteous person, I'd never have ended up here. Those of us that live out every day in this world, we’re the ones serving eternity in damnation. We are not good people, we never were. And to your point, no I did not handle the transition well. To put it mildly.”

  We both laugh.

  I continue, “There's times I've considered how easy it would be to step into the sun. Haven't we all? But I don’t think you can throw in the towel and end up someplace better. And I don’t think I’m fated to ever know a form of heaven – not in the next life or the one after that. Plus,” I add with a smirk, “when have I ever chosen to do anything the easy way?”

  “You believe in reincarnation?”

  “Don’t you? We are the definition of reincarnation. Just because we still walk the same ground we did when we were humans, it doesn’t mean we didn’t leave one world and enter another. There is a death certificate or a closed missing person file with my name on it somewhere in their world. I bet there’s a headstone with your past life scrawled across it.”

  She picks up another chess piece and blows the dust off its black surface.

  I shrug. “When I died the first time I don't remember being in pain or being scared. If I was, it pales in comparison to the hell I woke up in. So while I can honestly say I’m not afraid of dying. Heck we all have, right? Me, I'm afraid of where I'll wake up. And I'm terrified I'll never know a world better than this.”

  She regards me with sad eyes.

  “That’s bleak. And quite possibly the most depressing outlook on this life I've ever heard. Remind me next time I get the urge to talk philosophy with you just to save myself the time and rip out a fang.”

  I offer a dry laugh to lighten the atmosphere. “Sorry. Where I am from, it’s tough to see things any other way.”

  “You’ve had entirely too much time on your hands these past few years.”

  “No argument there. I am definitely my own worst enemy. But I’m trying to change that. I’m trying to go against type, find my true north. That drive keeps me going and it keeps me sane.”

  “Well you're here now, I'd say you're succeeding.”

  “Or failing miserably depending on how this shakes out.”

  She laughs. We smoke in silence. I dust off the board.

  “You know I'm sorry right? About everything that went down with Marcus and Trion.”

  Raising a hand, “Water under the bridge, Crina. Seriously. I don’t blame you for siding with Marcus over me. Especially given the lies he was feeding you. In your shoes I’d have done the same thing. Anyone would. The way he spun it, I looked guilty as hell.”

  “I’d known him for decades and part of me loved him. You on the other hand were the newbie recruit; flippant, stubborn, mercurial–”

  “Hey now, don’t go comparing me to Quinn,” I quip.

  “You know, when you first showed up here, when Catch brought you in, I viewed you as this entitled little brat. Your distain for us, for vampires, was palpable. Like I mentioned before, you weren’t exactly taking to the lifestyle. We knew you didn’t want any part of us or the war. And I took pleasure in hazing you. Remember your first encounter with a werewolf? That was a fun night,” she laughs.

  I groan remembering how terrified I was in that moment.

  She continues, “When you left after Catch’s death I never thought we’d see you again. And I was fine with it. Then you returned and something had changed. As if you grew up, embraced your fate, I dunno…But you proved us all wrong. And when Marcus said you were hunting vampires, that you were a traitor. Well, I was quick to revert back to my initial impression of you. Felt like saying ‘I told you so’ to the others. And yet again, you proved me wrong. The point I’m trying to make here is that whenever you resurface it’s usually in our darkest hour, when we need you the most. And I realize that you didn’t have to come back. I may be even worse at expressing gratitude than I am at regrets.”

  “That might be one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said about me.”

  “Well I told you when we last spoke that I was bad at apologies. I’ve had time to think about what I’d say if I ever saw you again.”

  “You had numerous opportunities to take me out back then and you didn't. So while the apology is appreciated, it's hardly necessary. We're good.” She nods. “Thanks.”

  “So how’ve you been anyways? You know before the shit hit the fan.”

  Crina shifts in the chair, looks at the cigarette sitting ignored in her hand before snuffing out the little bit that's left.

  “I dunno, fine I guess. They look to me for leadership, it can be draining at times. But we also haven’t been at war, so not a lot of pressure to make big decisions.”

  “How do a group of vamps pass the time when there’s no one to hunt?”

  “There’s always something to hunt,” she says through a mischievous grin. “But it has been pretty quiet. We all took a year or so to travel. Needed time apart. Those that could anyways, Jiro had been keeping busy teaching Rex tech stuff. There's been lots of satellite and drone talk that bores me to tears. They kept our fridges fully stocked with blood. And I don’t mean stealing from hospitals, we produce synthetic in-house now. Rex and I have to find creative ways to get supplies and ingredients, but we’ve got a pretty good system in place.

  “And Xan, well, he was seeing this girl for a bit. Nomadic vampire that used to pass through here regularly. They had a thing going, not really sure what happened there. Fizzled out over time I suppose. He can be a bit intense. Anyways, these days he has his inventor hat on. Keeps busy with gadgets. Lately he'd been trying to recreate the daylight suit we took from Trion. Between that and the blood at least something good came of that place. Dade and Quinn have been gone a lot. Those two are on a perpetual honeymoon.”

  “Wish we could all be so lucky. How about Malik? Vega said he’d been staying here. I was expecting to find him with you guys in Romania.”

  “He comes and goes all the time. Quiet guy, not much for conversation. He brings ammo and computers and such in exchange for blood and comfortable accommodations. I could be wrong, but think you share a bloodline in Adrian. Do you know much about him?”

  Back at the compound, when we left Trion, he alluded to sharing my “gift” for premonitions. I’d like very much to talk to him about what exactly he inferred that night.

  I simply shake my head, “Not much. Guess it’s good news he wasn’t captured. Hope he surfaces soon.”

  “I’m not good with time, but he left here a few days before we were
captured. Maybe a week or two ago? Couldn’t say for sure. He doesn't share his itinerary with us. At least not me, maybe Rex. They're closer.”

  “Speaking of Rex...and growing closer...you two a thing now?”

  She breaks eye contact. Yup.

  “How did you know?”

  “Just observed a certain intimacy in your exchanges. Read between the lines.”

  “He’s a good guy and we—”

  “It’s fine, Crina, really. I mean damn we’ve all moved on, it’s been years.”

  She nods, “You know how it can get in our world.”

  “All too well…I’m happy for you two, really.”

  She waves off my comment dismissively, “I just needed to know I could move forward after Marcus and he was there for me during a rough patch. It’s never evolved past that. I’ve been too broken to pursue a relationship.”

  “Well I'm glad he was able to help. I wasn’t any good for him anyways.”

  “He and Jiro tried very hard to find you. You did something to get under his skin, he may have moved on but he never stopped worrying about you…wondering what kind of trouble you’ve been getting into…speaking of, what have you been doing with yourself?”

  “Trying my damnedest to stay out of trouble,” I laugh. “I got a new identity, an apartment, even a bartending gig. Normal, boring, painless.”

  Crina tries to contain her amusement. “Please tell me you’re joking. And you can stand to be around humans all the time?

  “Yeah, I can. They make me feel normal relative to all this.”

  “The spray tan and blonde highlights – are they part of your new normal?”

  “Joke all you want, but I haven’t been shot, stabbed or tossed off a building in years. No tracking chips monitoring my every move, no more hunting or being hunted. Freedom, Crina, freedom. And it’s felt great.”

  She nods, as much as she jests, she understands.

  “No visions?”