by E. S. Moore
“Look,” I said, turning to face him, “I’m sorry about this. This isn’t my fault.”
“I know,” he said. “The Left Hand did it.”
“So you know of them.”
He gave a single-shoulder shrug. “Don’t serve ’em, though. They aren’t worth the trouble.” He heaved a sigh. “Do you think this is a message for you?”
I thought about it. At first, I’d thought it very well might be, but now that I recognized the face, I wasn’t so sure. He could have been checking out my Honda, maybe placing some sort of tracking device on it when he’d been jumped. There was no reason to believe the Left Hand even knew who I was.
“I don’t think so,” I said, eyeing my bike. “At least not a message for me specifically.” Could they have known this was Mephisto’s man and was warning the count that they were coming for him?
Bart glanced around the now empty lot. “Bad things are coming,” he said. “I can feel it in my bones.”
I turned to follow Bart’s gaze, which now rested on his bar. A curtain fluttered, but I didn’t see anyone inside. I wondered if Mikael was still there or if he’d left with the others. I didn’t recall seeing him. In fact, I’m not so sure he had anywhere else to go. The guy was always sitting in the same booth at the Bloody Stake like he was glued to it.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen.” I don’t know why, but I felt the need to apologize. “I think this guy was following me and got killed for it.”
“But not by you or yours.”
It was a statement, but I felt the need to answer anyway. “No,” I said. “Not one of mine.”
Bart rubbed at his face. “Things like this keep happening. It’s almost not worth it anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I felt horrible. Every time I came to the Bloody Stake lately, it seemed like someone died.
“This isn’t your fault,” Bart said. “While this might hurt numbers for a little while, it seems like this might be more problematic for you. I’m starting to get worried about you.”
I almost laughed. “I’ve been worrying about me for a long time now.”
“But things have been worse lately, haven’t they?”
I sighed. “Yeah,” I said, “they have.”
“I just want you to be careful. I don’t want you to end up dead, no matter what others think.”
And with that, he turned and limped his way back to the bar.
I stood there, feeling trapped. When I’d started hunting vampires and werewolves, I never thought it would end up like this. I’d figured I’d go for a few years until I went after someone bigger and better than me and that would be that.
I’d come across quite a few people now who could rip me apart without batting an eye, and yet here I was. Instead of killing me, they’re putting me under their thumbs. Before long, I wouldn’t be able to move one way or another. And then what would happen? Would they all converge on me as one? Will they tear each other apart trying to lay claim to me?
I knew I’d have to do something about it eventually, but first, I had to deal with the Left Hand. Sure, I could wait and hope they took out Baset or Adrian or Mephisto for me, but I wasn’t counting on it. To let them run free would be to put others I cared about at risk, and I didn’t just mean Jonathan.
I walked around the parking lot, looking for any sort of clue as to who the Left Hand member might be. Could it have been the trio near the trash bins? I checked the ground carefully there but found only garbage and a few recently used cigarette butts. I found no sign, outside the body, that anyone from the Left Hand had ever been there. There wasn’t even a broken or empty syringe.
Bart came out of the bar as I walked back toward my bike. He raised an eyebrow at me. He was carrying an industrial strength trash bag. There’d be no decent burial for this guy.
“You still here?” he said as he strode over to the body.
“Just leaving,” I said. Blood was drying under the wheels. It would be a bitch to get out. Traces would more than likely remain for weeks. “Need me to help with this?” I asked, indicating the body.
“Nah,” Bart said. “I’ll take care of it. I was running low on meat for the burgers anyway.”
I looked up, shocked, to find him grinning at me. He winked before kneeling by the corpse and going through his pockets. Maybe if he found ID, he’d contact the guy’s next of kin.
As Bart went about bagging the body, I checked over my motorcycle carefully. If Mephisto’s man had put something onto it, I was going to find it.
I scoured every inch of my Honda, but found nothing. Either putting something on it wasn’t his goal, or he hadn’t had a chance to do it. Or perhaps the Left Hand killer had removed whatever was placed there.
In the end, it didn’t matter. My bike appeared clean. If Mephisto wanted to track me, he’d have to do it the old fashioned way.
Bart waved as I started up the engine and rolled out into the road. I waved back and aimed for home, hoping I wouldn’t find someone lying dead in my front yard.
16
“How’d things go?”
I paused just inside the dining room, coat halfway off. Jeremy was standing between me and the stairs, with Ethan sitting on the couch to my right. I couldn’t tell if Jeremy was pissed at me or not about running off without him. If he was still angry, he was doing a damn good job of hiding it.
I sighed and finished taking off my coat. I draped it over a chair and went to work on my belt and shoulder holster.
Ethan walked over to Jeremy. He wasn’t wearing shoes, telling me he was done with the basement tonight.
I set my weapons on the table and then looked at them. They’d effectively cut me off from the rest of the house, but no one was saying anything. It was clear they were itching for a talk. I simply wanted to get upstairs to a bath, where I could soak out the worries. I was mentally exhausted.
“What?” I asked, when I’d decided the silence had gone on long enough.
“Are you okay?” Ethan asked, doing his best to look me in the eye, though I could tell he was nervous.
“Not really.”
“Care to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Kat . . .”
I pulled out the chair I’d set my coat on and dropped down into it. “What do you want me to say?” I asked. “It was a bad night. That’s nothing new. I’m tired. I just want to go upstairs and cool out for a little bit. Is that too much to ask?”
Jeremy and Ethan glanced at each other. Something passed between them before they both turned to look at me.
“We’re worried,” Jeremy said.
“Is this an intervention?” I asked with an irritated laugh. Neither man smiled.
“No,” Ethan said. “But we do want to talk to you.”
I waved a hand at them to go on, too exhausted to talk. I’d dealt with far too much that night without actually having to kill someone. What I really wanted to do was to blow them off and go straight to my room, but knew I needed to hear them out. The old Kat was the type who would tell anyone and everyone to piss off. I wasn’t that person anymore.
Or at least, I was trying not to be.
“You can’t leave without telling us where you’re going.” Jeremy spoke carefully, as if making sure he chose his words correctly. I guess he still felt the need to treat me like my old self. “We need to know in case something happens. We might have to come looking for you and it would be nice to know where in the hell you are.”
“It’s not safe out there,” Ethan added with a shudder and glance toward the back door.
“Has it ever been?”
“Well, no.” His face reddened. “But it’s worse now.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“It’s just . . .” Ethan trailed off and looked to Jeremy for help.
“We sit here, waiting for you to get home night after night.” Jeremy shifted his weight, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “We don’t know if you’re alive or dead. Someone could have you lo
cked away somewhere. We just don’t know.”
I looked down at my hands. They might not call it an intervention, but it sure as hell felt like one. They were making me feel like a teenager who’d been sneaking out at night to see her metalhead boyfriend.
I knew I should be more upfront with them, but it was hard. I’d kept things to myself for so long, it wasn’t easy to open up to people, even my friends. I didn’t always know whom I could trust. I feared getting people hurt, myself included.
“You don’t have to tell us why you’re going wherever it is you go on nights like these,” Jeremy said. “We just want to know where it is you’re going just in case something happens.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay?” Ethan sounded surprised. I’m not sure there was a time I didn’t argue with a request like that.
“Yeah,” I said. “I need to start trusting you more.” I glanced at Jeremy. “Both of you.”
I think I caught both of them off guard because they both looked at each other as if they’d had this big speech planned and I’d totally wrecked it. Jeremy looked worried, like he thought I was trying to trick them somehow. It was almost funny.
“So, you’re not mad?” Ethan asked.
“I am,” I admitted. “But I realize it isn’t you I’m mad at. I had a real shitty night and, well, you know what it’s like living with a monster inside you.” I directed the last at Jeremy. “It’s easy to lose control and lash out at people who don’t deserve it.”
There was a moment of silence, as if they still didn’t believe me.
“I’m serious,” I said. “I’ll tell someone where I’m going whenever I leave. I promise.”
“Great,” Ethan said with a shaky laugh. He clapped his hands together and cleared his throat. “Now that that’s settled, there’s something else we want to talk to you about.”
I didn’t like the way he said that. I narrowed my eyes at him and he took a step back. He ran his fingers through his hair and continued to clear his throat as if something was caught in it.
“We were thinking it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to take Jonathan up on his offer,” Jeremy said, drawing my eye.
“Which offer?”
“You know, the one where we go hide out at his place for a little while,” Ethan said with a weak smile.
“You can’t be serious.”
“It would be safer,” Jeremy said.
“I’m not so sure about that.”
This time, it was Jeremy who narrowed his eyes. “And what do you mean by that?”
This was it—the big test. I could go back to my old ways and refuse to tell him anything, or I could tell him that I thought someone at the Den was feeding the Left Hand information. I could tell him about my concern over Nathan and Keira. He might not live at the Den, but Jeremy was still part of the Cult.
Then again, telling him might cause some serious damage. He might hate me for even considering such a thing, or he might start to distrust those who took him in. Either way, he wouldn’t be happy with it. It would be far easier to try to do this on my own so that when the shit eventually did hit the fan, I’d be the only one standing in front of it.
Why did trusting others have to be so damn hard?
“I have some concerns about a few people at the Den,” I said, meeting Jeremy’s eye.
“Concerns? About who?”
I rubbed at the back of my neck. “Nathan, for one.” I winced as I said it.
“What about him?”
“Do you know where he’s been sneaking off to?” I figured I might as well go all out and see what Jeremy knew. If I were going to accuse Nathan of something, it would be far better to get as many facts as I could.
“Sneaking off?” Jeremy looked genuinely confused.
“Yeah. I was heading in one night and caught him driving off on his own. I followed him, curious, and he went to some house and just watched it. Before I could see what he was up to, I got jumped.”
“By Nathan?”
“By someone else. I . . . I think it might have been Keira but I can’t be sure.”
“Wait, what?” This time there was anger in Jeremy’s voice. I’m not sure if it was directed at me or at the other weres. I’m not so sure it mattered. One-armed or not, Jeremy was still a werewolf with a monster inside him that could cause irrational bouts of rage in an instant.
I carefully moved my hand next to my gun, just in case. I doubted Jeremy would attack me, but it was always best to be safe around a were. I wouldn’t shoot him, but I hoped the threat would cause him to hesitate if he were to wolf out on me.
“She was shifted when she attacked, so it might not have been her,” I admitted. “And Nathan was gone before I could question him. I don’t think he saw me.”
“Jesus.” Jeremy rubbed at his forehead and started pacing. “Do you think Nathan and Keira have anything to do with . . .” He shook his head. “No. I refuse to believe it. They wouldn’t help the Left Hand.”
“I agree that Nathan wouldn’t,” I said, surprising even myself. I moved my hand away from my gun. Jeremy looked agitated, but not so much that I was worried he’d shift. “It isn’t his style. But how much do we really know about Keira?”
Jeremy remained silent.
“Are you sure there’s something going on with them?” Ethan asked. “I mean, could it have all been a coincidence?”
“Sure,” I said. “But Nathan looked nervous. He was up to something. And I sure as hell don’t trust Keira.”
Deep down, I knew my distrust was rooted in how close she seemed to be with Jonathan, but there was nothing that would get me to admit that to either of them. It just seemed too convenient for her to show up just as the Left Hand started killing people. She had to be connected somehow.
“We should talk to Jonathan,” Jeremy said, reaching for his phone. “He’ll know what to do.”
“I tried,” I said. “Nathan stopped me.”
Jeremy looked troubled and eased his phone back into his pocket. “Why would he do that?”
“I guess he was with Keira. She . . . she may have gotten to him.”
The room fell silent, which was okay by me. The thought of Jonathan and Keira together had my stomach twisted into knots. The bath sounded better than ever now. I wasn’t even sure I could keep talking about this without breaking down like a love-struck teenager.
Is that what I was? Could I actually be in love with a werewolf?
I stared down at my hands, which were shaking. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me. I truly didn’t want Nathan to be up to something devious. We’d never gotten along, sure, but he was always there when I needed him. He could have let me die more than once, but he always saved me.
But Keira . . . I had no connection with her. In fact, I almost hoped she was the one who was feeding the Left Hand information. It would suck for Jonathan, but at least I’d get the pleasure of putting her down for him. Things would be so much easier if she weren’t around.
I sighed. Once again, I wasn’t sure which part of me was talking.
“What can we do?” Ethan asked into the silence that had fallen.
I shrugged. “I’ll talk to Jonathan as soon as I can.”
“I can call him,” Jeremy offered, reaching for his phone again.
“No. I think this needs to be done face to face.”
“When?”
“Soon,” I said. “I’d do it tomorrow, but . . .”
“It’s okay,” Jeremy said, actually managing something akin to a smile. “We understand.”
Our eyes met. I could tell he truly did understand. He wasn’t going to ask me about where I’d been or what I’ve been doing every Monday since I’d dealt with Baset. He trusted me to do what was right.
God, I hoped that trust wasn’t misplaced.
“I’m going to get some rest,” I said. “I’ve got something I have to take care of tomorrow, but as soon as that’s done, I’m going to go talk to Jonathan.”
I ros
e and both men stepped back. While some things had been settled, there was a whole lot of unease going around.
“Don’t bring any of this up to him if you talk to him tonight,” I told Jeremy. “I’d like to make sure I’m not leaping at shadows here. Maybe Nathan has a good reason for doing what he’s doing. Maybe I’m wrong about Keira. If anyone is going to bring these concerns up to Jonathan, it has to be me, all right?”
Jeremy nodded.
“Okay.” I heaved a sigh and headed for the stairs. “I’ll see you two tomorrow night.”
I paused by the stairs as another thought hit me. I turned back to face Ethan.
“Did you happen to find anything out about the stuff in the syringe?” I’d given him the briefcase last night as soon as I’d gotten home. I figured he might have some luck identifying what was inside. I’m not sure how it would help, but the more we knew about the Left Hand, the better.
“Not yet,” he said. “I’ll keep working on it.”
I nodded and continued upstairs.
I entered my room and closed the door behind me. I leaned against it and sighed. I might have come clean with a few things, but there was still quite a lot I’d left out. They deserved to know about Baset and Mephisto.
About Adrian.
I could feel him out there and wondered if he was thinking about me. I knew his intentions were impure, knew that he was far more dangerous than a lot of people gave him credit for, yet there was a comfort there, knowing he’d protect me even if I didn’t actually need it.
I’d never become his mate. He could take that dream and shove it up his ass for all I cared. I doubted I could even bring myself to like the guy. He was a pompous ass who was as creepy as hell with his blank stares and emotionless voice.
But maybe, someday, when I wasn’t so preoccupied with everyone trying to control me, I could learn to trust him. Stranger things have happened.
17
Anton Green lived in a surprisingly nice neighborhood. The lawns were manicured, houses were of moderate size, and welcome mats sat on nearly every doorstep. There were motion sensors outside all of the houses, and I caught a glimpse of something near one door that looked like the barrel of a gun poking out of shrubbery.