All That Bleeds

by Kimberly Frost

  Ox nodded gravely. “Thanks, boss, but no worries. I won’t let it go there.”

  “Man plans. God laughs,” Merrick murmured and turned to Alissa. “Miss North, I’m your escort if you need one.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  She followed him in silence. Neal’s body and two others lay in pools of blood. Her stride faltered.

  “Oh no,” she whispered.

  Merrick’s hand closed on her arm and stopped her from going to them. “Keep walking.”

  “I—”

  “You can’t help. Come with me. Let me get you out.”

  She allowed Merrick to pull her along. “He’s dead because he tried to help me,” she said, guilt and grief threatening to consume her.

  “Then don’t let him have died for nothing.”

  They exited through the glass door, and Merrick strode directly to the valet stand. “Miss North’s keys,” he demanded. The startled valet fumbled for them as several black sedans pulled up. Sirens wailed in the distance as she took the keys from the boy.

  Several men in black suits leapt from the cars.

  “Merrick,” the leader said. “What’s the situation?”

  “See for yourself,” Merrick said, walking her away.

  “I’ll take her,” the man said, gesturing for the others to go in.

  Merrick moved so that she was on the far side of his body. “Witnesses saw me walk her out. She goes back where she belongs.”

  “I have my orders,” the ventala said.

  Without breaking his stride, Merrick whipped a gun out and pointed it at the man. “And I’ve got an alley and a stubborn streak.”

  The other ventala stepped back. “Easy, Merrick.”

  “It can be,” Merrick replied. “Get the door, Miss North.” Alissa pulled open the heavy door, not sure where it led to. “I’m right behind you,” Merrick said.

  She raced down the poorly lit stairwell into an underground parking structure. She spotted her car and rushed to it. Her hands shook slightly as she opened the door. She looked over her shoulder and found Merrick approaching.

  “You’ll drive,” he said, striding around the car while scanning the area. He waited until she was in the leather bucket seat with the door closed before he climbed in himself.

  Belted in, she started the car.

  “Head there,” he said, pointing. She pressed the pedal, and the car roared forward.

  “This car’s all engine,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said, distracted by her racing thoughts. “It’s a prototype. A V-10 engine that runs principally on solar and electric power.” She was so upset; she wasn’t sure why she was talking about cars or why she was talking about anything. The image of the fallen men kept flashing before her eyes. She pursed her lips, knowing that she’d missed whatever Merrick had just said. She needed to concentrate on driving.

  “What?” she asked.

  “It’s okay,” he said, squeezing her arm gently. The touch helped focus her.

  She stopped at the security arm blocking the drive. It didn’t open. “We may have to go the other way.” She shifted into reverse as he opened his door.

  “Be right back.” He got out and snapped the wood gate, tossing it aside. When he climbed back in, he said, “At the end of the drive, turn left.”

  She didn’t hesitate. Down the drive and onto the road, she followed his instructions without question. He took them on a twisted path through the Sliver, down dark streets, through alleys and neighborhoods, but, with a pounding heart, she drove like a race car driver on the final lap. The need to get behind the Etherlin’s protective walls consumed her.

  With one last turn, the shining silver and iron gate appeared fifty feet in front of them. Halogen and ultraviolet lights blazed bright.

  Home. Relief flooded through her.

  “Stop,” he said.

  The car jerked to stillness at her tap on the brake. With adrenaline licking her veins, she felt like she’d biked to the gate rather than driven. She forced her breathing to slow.

  “Nice driving, North.”

  “Nice navigating,” she said. She glanced at him. He was handsome and thoroughly disreputable looking with his five o’clock shadow and the dark sunglasses he slid on to shield his eyes. “Thank you for the rescue.”

  “I was in the neighborhood.” He opened the door, but paused when she laid a hand on his arm. He pulled the door closed again.

  “I owe you so much. I want to give you a ‘thank-you’ gift. What can I send? I don’t know what you’d like. A car like this? A year’s supply of bullets in a rainbow of metals?”

  He flashed a smile.

  “Seriously. What does someone like you need? Please tell me.”

  “Another time.” His voice was smooth, but she felt a vibration that stirred her muse senses. A secret lay under the surface of his easy reply.

  She nodded absently, studying his face. “A part of my talent relies on me being able to read people.”

  “And?”

  “And you’re very difficult to read, Mr. Merrick, but you’re still part human.”

  “Again, and?”

  “I think you already know what you want. Unless it’s something you know I can’t give, ask for it.”

  “This isn’t the place.”

  That had the ring of truth. “All right.” She stretched a finger out and slid the sunglasses a few millimeters down the bridge of his nose. “If I kiss you good-bye, will you lose control?”

  Dark eyes stared into hers. “Only if you want me to.”

  Her fingertips rested on his jaw, and she leaned forward. She inhaled his breath: liquor and cloves. His vampire magnetism pulsed, making her body tighten in anticipation. She brushed her lips over his, her lids fluttering closed. He tasted of expensive scotch with a spicy hint of lime, and underneath something delicious she couldn’t name. Him, she guessed.

  Her other hand rose to his throat, feeling his steady pulse thump under her hand as her tongue explored his cool mouth. She felt the razor scrape of his fangs, and the dilemma of whether to end the kiss arced through her. Sense warred with its age-old enemy: temptation.

  She tipped her head back, sucking the drop of blood inward and swallowing it. He exhaled roughly, and she felt the rigid clench of his muscles.

  “Your control is amazing,” she whispered.

  “Seems that way, does it?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  He leaned back in his seat, pushed his sunglasses up, and took one more long breath.

  A crack of noise on the roof made her jump.

  “Took them longer than I expected,” he said.

  “What?” she asked, blinking. The car was parked in the shadows and, with the tinted windows, no one could’ve seen inside, but she had been too distracted to notice anyone approach.

  The door was pulled open and, when the ES officers identified her passenger, the muzzles of automatic weapons pressed against Merrick’s head from both sides.

  Chapter 15

  Victor Jacobi sat in a chair in the surgical intensive care visitors’ area. Cato paced back and forth, cursing and shaking his fists.

  “You have to let me go with the hit squad. I have to be there when he buys it.”

  Victor clenched his jaws, trying to control his rage. His kids attacking humans in a public place? Merrick gutting his daughter like a fucking fish? Victor wanted blood to spill till the rivers turned red.

  When the call he’d been waiting for came, it saved him from having to talk to Cato, whose head Victor wanted to slam against the wall.

  “Yes?” Victor said.

  “Well?” the voice asked.

  “No, she’s back on your side of the wall. She was armed. What the fuck was that?”

  “That’s not my problem. You’ve had her delivered into your hands twice without a security team.”

  “Well, we’re going to have to try again,” Victor said angrily.

  “I don’t think so. The Handyrock’s inciden
t will be known. There will be a security crackdown even in the Etherlin.”

  “Well, you’ll find a way around it.”

  “No, I won’t. You obviously can’t get the job done. I heard she had help from one of your own syndicate members.”

  “Yeah, we’ll take care of that.”

  “Do it, and I’ll talk to you again at some point.” The connection went dead.

  Victor shut the phone.

  “Who was that?” Cato asked.

  “Never mind. That’s my goddamned business, not yours.”

  “What about Merrick?” Cato demanded. “You can’t let him get away with this.”

  “Forget Merrick. I ordered the hit on him yesterday.”

  Etherlin Security wore navy trousers and maroon blazers with a silver crest over the heart. To Merrick they looked like overgrown prep school boys. In spite of the attire, they were well trained and well armed. There were three of them, which were odds he could survive if he took a stand, but he’d have to kill, and she’d seen enough violence for the night.

  He rested his hands on top of his head and let them take his weapons. They barked questions at him, which he didn’t answer, and he covered his smile when she defended him.

  They were respectful toward her, but also tried to hustle her away. She stood her ground. If he’d been in their place, the temptation to pick her up and transport her bodily into the Etherlin would’ve been pretty strong. As soon as the Sliver police arrived, she’d be taken to the station for a statement and stuck on the dangerous side of the wall. If he’d been ES, they wouldn’t have been standing around in the street.

  One of them pressed an earpiece and took a step back. A moment later, he explained the situation to whoever was on the other end.

  “Yes, sir.” He turned. “Miss North, let’s get you back into the Etherlin. Why don’t you drive your car through?”

  “What about Mr. Merrick?”

  “Director Easton would like to talk to the ventala. We’ll escort him to the post.”

  “He’s not a prisoner. He saved my life and, likely, the lives of my aspirants. Give him back his weapons and let him go on his way.”

  “Director Easton—”

  “Doesn’t have jurisdiction out here and can’t detain Mr. Merrick. Let him go.”

  “I’m sure he won’t mind accompanying us.”

  Alissa marched over to the one holding his weapons, retrieved them with a firm jerk, and walked them to Merrick.

  “Mr. Merrick, I apologize. Thank you for seeing me safely home.” She handed him his guns and knife. “Good night.”

  “Night,” Merrick said.

  Taking note of the fact that ES had their guns on him again, she said, “I’ll wait here until you’re safely on your way. Take my car.”

  The stone-faced looks of the ES guards made him smile.

  “I’ve got my own way home,” Merrick said, tucking his weapons away as he disappeared down the alley.

  He waited until she was safely on the other side to make his way south toward the creek. He paused periodically to be sure he wasn’t followed. Near the water, he stripped down to the superfine neoprene he’d worn under his suit. There was a slice through the fabric where Tamberi’s knife had cut him. She was becoming as much of a problem as Cato.

  He wiped down the weapons and then dropped them and his suit into a Dumpster. An expensive loss, but there was no help for it. If he went home to drop them there, he’d risk being picked up by the police for questioning, or by the syndicate for a brutal interrogation and probably worse. He had other plans for his night.

  He ran a hand over the chest of his wet suit, feeling the packet that was sealed against his skin. It was critical to his plan. He hoped the amulet’s magic wouldn’t be affected by extreme temperatures.

  He climbed through the trees growing up from the bank, and his bare feet sank in the damp ground. He stretched his muscles and lowered himself into the cold water. As a half-vampire, he could tolerate the cold better than humans. He knew from experience he could still concentrate and function when his body temperature dropped as low as twenty-six degrees centigrade. Extreme heat was a different story. The hot springs had nearly boiled the flesh from his bones the last time he’d tried to cross this way.

  He took several deep breaths and submerged. He swam down to the barrier between the Etherlin and the Varden. He’d cut through two iron rods on his trial run. Now he slid through the opening without a problem. He swam more than a mile without surfacing. If he’d come up for air sooner, the sensors monitoring the water’s surface would’ve triggered a security alert that meant visible and ultraviolet lights turning on, security camera activation, and a team of Etherlin Security being dispatched to hunt for him.

  If this had been a short trip, as when he’d come in for the demon, he could’ve blown a hole in the wall, gone over it, or used any number of other methods for gaining entry. Getting in wasn’t that hard. Getting in without anyone knowing he was in: that was very difficult.

  His muscles burned, and his heart rate increased. Merrick dove deeper. The water got warmer, then hot. He felt for the rock opening but couldn’t find it.

  He dragged his hands over the surface, cutting one of his palms. He was in the right place and should’ve felt it.

  The ache in his muscles worsened as his temperature rose. His skin burned and stung. He realized that rocks had fallen and covered the mouth of the underwater cave.

  He worked quickly to shift them, his body hungry for air. His pulse throbbed in his throat. He made an opening and rammed his body against it, pulling himself forward. His shoulders wedged between the rocks, and he couldn’t move.

  He kicked hard with his legs. Even ventala couldn’t go without air forever.

  Desperate for oxygen, his body took an involuntary breath and water gushed into his lungs.

  Once she’d closed and locked her front door, Alissa walked into the family room with its bamboo floors and butter-colored silk drapes and pillows. She sank down onto the eco-friendly oatmeal-colored couch, trembling with adrenaline and a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. Plagued by regret over the Handyrock’s incident, excited by the drive and the kiss with Merrick, and concerned about the encounter with Etherlin Security, she folded her hands on her lap but couldn’t remain still. She rose and paced the floor.

  When she reached the edge of the room and turned for the third time, she was startled to find her father standing in the doorway. He’d showered, shaved, and slicked back his wet hair, which she took as a good sign. He wore hunter green flannel pajama bottoms and a Peter Max Earth Day T-shirt under his worn navy blue bathrobe. His pockets bulged with pens and Post-it notes and scraps of paper.

  “Hi, Dad. Have you been writing?”

  “Still am. And you? Are you working?”

  She smiled. Her dad was one of the few people she knew who understood that staring out windows and thinking could be serious work.

  “Would you like to write here for a little while? I’d enjoy the company.”

  He took out a pen, slid it behind an ear, and sat in front of the recycled-wood table. From his pockets, he extracted sticky notes and bits of paper, uncrumpling and arranging them. She sank down on the couch and curled into the cushions.

  She looked at the various colors of her dad’s notes, watching him move the Jadar River note to the beginning as he mumbled bits of the story of a young soldier who would try to secretly shield his lover’s brother from being killed during the Srebrenica massacre in Bosnia. And of the aftermath…the emotional devastation of not succeeding, of having his lover find out that he’d participated in the genocide of the lover’s people.

  Her father rearranged the scenes of moments of normal life interspersed with events like digging up the mass graves to redistribute the bodies. She closed her eyes as her dad narrated, his prose as fluid and devastating as ever. He would take his readers on an amazing and raw emotional journey if he could shake his madness and stay an author long eno
ugh to complete it.

  She rose and retrieved a netbook from the corner table. She powered it on, created a file, and typed as he dictated. At moments, he paused, and she whispered magic-laced encouragement and suggestions.

  Forbidden love was fragile enough, but when the truth of the soldier’s hand in the brother’s death broke over them, the lovers screamed recriminations at each other, their hearts shattering into too many pieces to ever be fully mended.

  All the precious loves that Alissa had been unable to hold on to came rushing to memory. Her mom hanging, Cerise’s back as she rushed out of the dance studio, her father fleeing unseen ghosts down empty hallways while Alissa called after him. And then there was Merrick, whom she wanted but could never really have except in dreams and letters.

  The tragedy at Handyrock’s rose in her mind, too. Just as in her father’s story, in the coming days, families would bury their young sons. Tears spilled, and her throat contracted. She wished she’d never gone to the Sliver. She closed the netbook and set it on the table.

  “Stop. Please stop,” she said.

  Awakened from the fever of creation, her father, slightly misty-eyed himself, blinked and looked at her.

  “What’s wrong? Not good?”

  “No, it’s amazing. Too good. I’m feeling sad, and the story…it’s too much tonight.”

  He sighed and nodded. “Nature’s first green is gold. It’s especially hard to lose the young. I mourn them—the ones I sacrifice for the story’s sake.”

  “Tell me an old story, Dad. Tell me ‘The Poison Cupcake.’ ”

  “Ah,” he said softly. “A different type of story, that.” He rubbed her ankles, cleared his throat, and began. The voices of her favorite childhood characters from the stories she and her dad had written together filled the air.

  The stories featured an exiled princess named Briselle who lived in a mobile home with her affectionate aunt, uncle, and cousin. In each story, Briselle was drawn into some drama. In Ohio, Briselle rescued children who’d been kidnapped using a magical merry-go-round. In Texas, she thwarted a terrorist plot to blow up a football stadium. In New York, she foiled an assassination plot while staying at the Waldorf Astoria.