by L. D. Rose
Scars, brands, oil, acid. Tar, goddamn it. Kaj had camouflaged him the best he could, covering him with ink and art, but Blaze could still see it. Every time he looked in the mirror, his own ruin laid bare to his eyes. He still craved the drugs and the feelings—or numbness—they brought on. He still craved the kill, the blood, the pain. And for a long time, he couldn’t resist them. He was still fighting, still healing. Still trying.
Cyrus had nearly destroyed him. Physically, mentally, and spiritually.
You will find him. And when you do, you’ll make him suffer like you did. You’ll make him suffer like Elena did. Then you’ll do what he didn’t. You won’t make the same mistake he did.
You will kill him.
“Need a spot?”
Dax’s reflection approached from behind, barefoot, bare-chested and wearing his gi pants. Palms and wrists wrapped in tape, ready for sparring, Dax’s angular face filled with concern and something darker. Anger. Guilt. Although his hatred for Cyrus ran nowhere near as strong as Blaze’s, his brother wouldn’t have any qualms about stringing the leech up by his intestines and feeding him his own shit.
After all, Dax had found Blaze in that godforsaken hole beneath Grand Central Terminal, crucified against a wall with his blood draining into a bucket like a stuck pig.
If Dax was here, that meant the meeting had ended. Rome had called a muster, but Blaze refrained from attending. Rome hadn’t objected. He’d known better.
Blaze eyed Dax briefly. Not so long ago, he would’ve refused his brother’s help, told him to fuck off and leave him alone. He would’ve resented Dax, would’ve resented them all for leaving him to rot in a concrete grave. Even though Blaze knew they’d tried their best, that they’d searched every inch of the city for him during those horrific seven months, he would’ve rejected their hands outright.
But it was different now. He was different now.
“Yeah,” Blaze finally said. “I could use one.”
Dax smiled a little, his relief obvious. “Kasen’s been looking for you, but I knew you’d be down here. He wants to check you out when you’re through.”
Blaze shifted his exposed eyes back to his own reflection. A couple of burn wounds here and there. A rip-roaring headache. For surviving a car bomb, he was doing all right.
Better than the mangled clerk at the tow yard’s front desk. Or any other employee who’d happened to be there when the bomb had been planted.
“I’m fine,” Blaze replied firmly as Dax braced his forearms on the barbell. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
Dax chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”
Blaze went horizontal again, looking up at his brother’s face. “How’d the meeting go?”
“Well, it was no walk in the park, that’s for sure. Rome wants to redirect a few of us to hunt down Chimola, but he said to check in with you first. He thinks Konstantinov is behind this, so he wants to get his hands on one of the Temhota and do some questioning.”
Blaze hadn’t even thought of Konstantinov. Of course the Sire of New York City would be involved. “Alek’s getting soft, sharing his hunting ground.”
“Rome thinks they might’ve struck a deal. He’s bent on finding out what it is.”
“Aren’t we all?” Blaze raised the barbell as Dax spotted him. He pumped it easily, a bit calmer now that his brother was here.
After ten reps, he propped the weight back up and Dax asked, “How’re you doing?”
Blaze sat up. “Well, it’s no walk in the park, that’s for sure.”
“Look man, I want in. Whatever you’re planning. Let me help you.”
Blaze plucked his water bottle off the floor and unscrewed the cap, watching Dax’s tense face in the mirror. He gulped down half the bottle, remembering the thirst, wishing he could forget it. “I need to figure some shit out. But once I do, you’re in, no doubt.”
Dax smiled and this time it reached his eyes. “Thanks, man.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Thank me when that motherfucker is ash and dust.”
“Hey, screw this weightlifting shit.” Dax cocked his thumb at the sparring mats. “You need to fight.”
Blaze lifted his eyebrows. “Are you crazy? I’ll kill you.”
“I doubt it. Besides, I need to do a little knocking around myself. And Kasen’s here, just in case. He wants to see you, so let’s give him a reason.”
Blaze nearly laughed out loud, the urge bubbling up inside him for the first time in days. Dax had a few screws loose, but hell, didn’t they all?
He stood and faced his brother, leveling a finger at him. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Trust me.” Dax grinned with anticipation. “I won’t.”
EIGHT
Valerie sat in a booth at the far corner of Bella Vista, the same booth where she’d interviewed Bianca only twenty-four hours ago. Bianca wasn’t working today, however, but the other girls were glad to see her. They’d greeted her with open smiles and free coffee, asking how Elena’s case progressed. Valerie didn’t have the heart to tell them the case was closed, that no justice would be found for Elena, and her death was ‘just another vampire attack.’
At least they hadn’t forgotten about Elena, unlike the rest of her department.
The early morning light cast a glare on Valerie’s laptop screen, so she drew the blinds. She intended to spend most of the day finding out what the hell the Order of the Senary was and how to track down the Knight brothers. She’d contacted the local FBI office a little while ago to see if they had any information concerning the mysterious government organization. They didn’t, of course, or so they’d said. Even if they did, she doubted they would tell her.
Another roadblock, another challenge.
It wasn’t like she didn’t have time on her side. After all, she was on ‘leave’ now, wasn’t she? She had all the time in the world.
She scowled as she pulled up the Google search engine and began her cyber hunt, coffee steaming in hand, determination reloaded.
She’d get to the bottom of this.
The previous day’s events replayed on a loop in her mind. She’d finally conceded Rome had wiped away the memories of all her colleagues. She’d seen vampires do the same with their victims in order to cover their tracks. All the symptoms had been there; the confusion, the conviction of something that wasn’t real, even with the evidence right in front of their faces. Everyone, even those who weren’t there when Rome had arrived, had been scrubbed squeaky clean.
Everyone except her.
What hurt most, though, was how her own partner thought she was crazy. Geoff was bad enough, but Deron? He didn’t remember any of what they’d been through in the past few days.
Did that mean Rome was a vampire? He obviously had the power to enthrall an entire building full of people. The only vampires she knew who could pull that off were Sires. Did that make Rome a Sire? Maybe. But if he was, then he’d somehow evolved the ability to daywalk.
Which meant humanity had lost their only advantage over the leeches.
The visitor’s log had no trace of Rome’s visit, because the page with his signature on it had gone missing. Elena’s file had been rearranged, so someone had shuffled through it. Which was impossible in the short span of time the file had been out of Valerie’s sight, with so many people bustling about.
Unless Rome had stopped time altogether. Hell, if he could scrub minds, why not? Sure, it was ridiculous. Absurd. Unreal.
But Valerie had officially lost her grip on reality when she met Blaze Knight.
Google gave her nothing on the word ‘senary’ except for the numbering system. She tried ‘Order of the Senary.’ Nothing. She stared at the screen, trying to conjure up some mighty revelation, when she thought of the symbol on Blaze’s left bicep; the tattoo that loo
ked like an emblem. She googled ‘coat of arms’ and came up with several links. She clicked on ‘Images’ and scanned the countless varieties of crests, pages upon pages long. But hey, she had all the time in the world—
Someone slid into the seat in front of her, and it occurred to her the coffee shop had gone silent. She’d been brooding so intently, she’d foolishly lost all awareness of her surroundings. Her intuition knew exactly who it was, and when she lifted her eyes, she found her intuition to be absolutely spot-on.
Blaze Knight, reality thief extraordinaire.
Valerie’s heart pounded, her body sounding the alarms. He didn’t look much different than the day before. Tank top, sunglasses, cut-off gloves, all still in place. Except now he seemed even more dangerous. It was the aura around him, the vibe, the energy.
The heat.
Or maybe it was because he wasn’t goddamn human.
Fear rose in her throat and she forced it down, contemplating whether to throw her coffee in his face now or later. The girls were probably scared out of their damn minds, but she wasn’t about to take her eyes off him to find out.
“Morning, Detective.”
Valerie clenched her jaw, anger blooming in her chest. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming in here.”
He sat back, relaxed yet guarded, like he’d been in the interrogation room. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Oh, really? How did you know where to find me?” The blinds were drawn. There was no way he could’ve spotted her.
Unless he’d followed her.
The corners of his mouth lifted just a touch, barely noticeable. “I had a feeling.”
“Or did your brother tell you? I’m sure he’s good at extracting information, isn’t he?”
Blaze didn’t flinch. “My brother did what he had to do.”
Valerie leaned forward, lowering her voice, bordering on a growl. “So what the fuck are you then? And don’t you dare tell me human, ‘cause I don’t eat bullshit.”
He edged closer, bracing his big, inky-scarred forearms on the table, coming closer than she would’ve liked. His cologne invaded her nostrils, the scent rich, dark, and smoky, like the frankincense and myrrh they’d burned at her sister’s funeral.
“You’re right, Val, I’m not human. But I’m not your killer either.”
“Do not call me that.”
“What, Val? Isn’t that what everyone calls you?”
“Yes, but not you.” She shut her laptop, putting it to sleep. The last thing she needed was for him to find out she’d been looking for him. Her eyes flicked to the tattoo, the enigmatic sphere on his bulging left bicep. Crimson, navy, and black twisted into an archaic pattern that looked nothing like the images on her screen.
“Take a walk with me,” he said.
“Hell no.”
“Take a walk with me and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
Valerie studied him, searching his hard-edged face for any sign of deceit. He seemed as blank as an empty canvas. She dared to look at the girls and found them back at work, although they stole glances at her every chance they had. Their fear was palpable in the tense air of the coffee shop and the patrons were beginning to notice.
“I’m completely unarmed,” Blaze added, as if to reassure her. “You’ve got nothing to fear.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” she lied right through her teeth.
He smiled that infuriating little smile. “Then what are you waiting for?”
“I am armed,” she warned him, acutely aware of the .380 PPK tucked snugly in the waistband of her jeans. “If you make one wrong move, I’ll kill you.”
His smile faded. “I know.”
Valerie stared at him for the space of a few heartbeats, considering her options. She couldn’t just walk away from him now. So she grabbed her laptop and stuffed it into its case. It would be a pain to carry around, not to mention a liability if he decided to try something stupid.
“I need to drop this off at my car first.”
“I’ll stay here.”
“No,” she replied abruptly. His dark eyebrows rose above his shades. No way was she leaving him here with the girls so terrified of him. Who knew what he’d do? “You’re coming with me.”
“Whatever you say, Detective.”
She stood, throwing the nylon strap of her laptop case over her shoulder along with her messenger bag. Her hands were free except for the coffee, but she tossed it out, even though it was half full. And she needed her caffeine, damn it. Thanks to him, she had to go without.
Not like he wasn’t already at the top of her shit list.
She indicated the door. “After you.”
He stood, towering over her like a skyscraper. He kept up the staring contest before he gave her his back and headed for the door.
“Valerie.” The girls’ whispers chorused her name, anxiety in their voices. “Don’t!”
She hushed them as she followed him out, lifting a finger to her lips. She mouthed the words, “I’ll be back,” before she waved them off and stepped into the thick heat of the morning.
Damn right, she’d be back.
Blaze was already smoking, leaning against the brick wall by the glass door. Valerie kept her distance and watched him carefully, noting how the sun made his tawny skin glow gold beneath its rays. If he was a vampire, that sun-kissed skin would be erupting with blisters right now, and he would be screaming until kingdom come.
He couldn’t be a vampire. He just couldn’t.
“My car’s down the street,” she said.
He blew a plume of smoke away from her, in the direction of the morning breeze. At least he was considerate. “Which way?”
Valerie motioned in his direction. He pushed off the wall and turned with an odd grace for his size. Her adrenals pumped harder. She’d seen that kind of grace before.
Blaze walked slowly, but his stride was long. She stayed behind him and off to the side, keeping pace with him. Parts of the serpent inked on his back peeked out from behind his tank top, a single reptilian eye watching her. If he had any firearms on him, she couldn’t tell, although blades were a different story.
Those could be anywhere.
“So, are you going to stare at my back the whole time or are we having a conversation?” he asked, his black gravel voice holding a hint of amusement.
“Stop at the blue Charger.”
He did, turning around to face her. Valerie popped the trunk and pushed her laptop inside, all the way toward the rear where it was darkest. She wouldn’t be long anyway and it wasn’t stifling out yet.
“Nice car.”
“Not mine.”
“Still nice.”
“Not as nice as a Chevelle.”
“So?”
Valerie slammed the trunk, done with the small talk. “What is the Order of the Senary?”
Blaze did a quick scan of the area, puffing on his cancer stick. They were mostly alone, except for a few locals strolling about. It was obvious he was uncomfortable with this.
Well, she wasn’t kicking back with a margarita, either.
He didn’t answer until they started walking again, and this time, she kept by his side. “We’re a group of operatives,” he said, voice low.
“Like black operatives?”
His lips twitched. “I guess you could say that.”
“Who are your targets?”
“Vampires, of course. Alek Konstantinov in particular.”
“Konstantinov is everyone’s target.”
“We’re a bit different than everyone else.”
No kidding. “How?”
Blaze crossed a side street, neglecting the bright orange ‘Don’t Walk’ sign like any good New Yorker. “Th
ink back to when you were a kid. A scandal broke out on the news and stuck around for a couple of years. It was about human and vampire genetic experimentation, and it was called the G-Fusion Project. You remember that?”
Valerie stopped dead in her tracks, right in the middle of the street, the information hitting her with the force of a slap. Her mind instantly put the puzzle together but she didn’t want to believe it. It was easy, too easy, a perfect explanation for everything that had happened since she met Elena’s corpse.
Deron’s rescue, Blaze’s DNA results, Rome’s mind games, the daywalking, and even all the stories she’d read about. Superheroes with unearthly powers, characters right out of comic books, never appearing by day, only from dusk until dawn.
Just like their enemies.
Yeah, she remembered the G-Fusion Project, because the press release was right around the time her sister died.
Car horns blared and a leather bound hand took her by the arm, forcing her legs to move. Although Valerie resumed walking, she recoiled at his touch, yanking her arm away as her heart jackhammered in her chest. Her mouth had gone dry and she couldn’t speak for the life of her. She just gawked at him as he continued onward, his jaw tensing from her reaction.
“I’m taking that as a yes,” Blaze muttered as he stepped onto the sidewalk.
“You’re a mutant,” she blurted and immediately regretted the words as they spewed from her mouth. “I mean, you’re a—a—”
“Hybrid,” he said quietly, dropping the cigarette butt and stepping on it. “I’m a hybrid.”