Nico reached out again, tentatively, but when he found the same energy he knew so well waiting for him, he visibly relaxed and echoed Miranda’s careful probing, comparing the landscape he had learned inside and out with the current reality.
“All right,” Nico said. “Show me, my Lady.”
David didn’t have the Sight unless they brought him along into theirs, so he had no idea what they were looking at when they looked into the Web; to an outsider it would look like they were just sitting there staring into space, or more accurately at his sternum.
He felt Deven’s eyes but couldn’t meet them.
“Were you aware of what you were doing?” Deven asked suddenly.
David swallowed and tried to articulate it. “Yes. And no. Mostly I felt like me…except when I fed. Every time, it got worse. I felt the hunger all the time, and it kept getting stronger and stronger. The stronger it got the less control I had over it…even before the benefit.”
“How many of those victims did you kill?”
David had heard Deven interrogate enough people to recognize the tone. Unlike most of those unfortunate souls David had no intention of trying to beg or dissemble his way out of it. Even if he’d been idiot enough to try he knew it wouldn’t work. Holy being or not Dev was a predator, and he could smell blood a mile away.
“All of them. Except Luisa. Any one of them could have been the one that infected me with that thing. Everything after that starts to blur…it was just one human then another, as many as Novotny could bring me. I tried…at least mostly…to be discreet.”
“Where did they all come from?”
“The list we made with Maguire…most of them anyway. A few were random on the street. I barely even remember those. They could have been anyone. But when I was here…home…I could hold it together. I could pretend someone else was doing it.”
“Until tonight.”
David nodded. Nico was listening keenly even as he sorted through the strands of the Web. For his benefit David went on, quietly, praying the right words would come. “I don’t remember going to town or coming back. I remember feeding. And feeding. I don’t know how many…and I was still hungry, and just…angry. I don’t know why I was so angry. Everything went red…and I could see what I was doing, but it was like I was watching myself, unable to stop, unable to do anything but watch.”
“That was the spell,” Miranda murmured. “Ratcheting up underlying anger and fear to an obsessive fever pitch. It did the same thing to the humans, only a lot faster because they’re so much weaker. It worked more slowly on you…the way it was designed to.”
“You said the Prophet wants you,” Deven prodded. “How do you know?”
David blinked. The truth was he didn’t know. He couldn’t remember what had driven him to say that as he lay on the floor. “I’m not sure.”
“I think I might know,” Nico said. “You’re right, Miranda…I see it.”
“What is it?” David asked, his pulse skyrocketing again, the panic squeezing his throat. “Is it another spell? What is it?”
“Calm down,” Deven said shortly. “Ground. You owe us that, don’t you?”
The word were as sharp as a slap; he obeyed again out of instinct.
“Can you break it?” Miranda asked Nico.
The Elf was silent for most of a minute. “I can.”
“I’ll anchor you, then, if—”
“No.”
All three of them looked at Nico. The Elf’s jaw was set, and when he looked into David’s face, his dark violet eyes were hard. They stared at each other again for a long minute.
“You hurt me,” Nico said coldly. It was like a stake of ice to the heart.
“I know. I’m sorry, Nico, I—”
The Elf shook his head. “I don’t want an apology. I want to know you won’t ever do anything so stupid again. I want to know that you trust us—that you understand we are stronger together, and that you have neither the obligation nor the right to act on our behalf.”
“I do. Tell me how I can prove myself and I will.”
Nico considered him, weighing, evaluating. “I want you to do something for me…and you’re not going to like it on any level.”
“Anything.” He put the full force of emotion behind the word.
Finally, Nico nodded. “I want you to save my brother.”
“How?” Miranda asked.
Nico was still looking into David’s eyes. Still weighing. Was there hope there that they could ever reclaim what David had destroyed?
Did it even matter anymore, if this was what Nico wanted of him? Whatever it was, he’d do it or die trying.
“By giving the Prophet what he wants,” Nico said. “You.”
*****
“Out of the question.”
“Miranda, I don’t think you realize—”
“That you want payback? That you’re willing to use guilt to coerce someone you supposedly love to walk into the lion’s den when he can barely stand? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“We may never have an opportunity like this again. If this works we can stop this whole thing before anything else happens, before anyone else has to die. Isn’t that our purpose here?”
“Our purpose is to work as a team. Not to…”
David let the argument drift out of his mind; he no longer had the energy to follow it. He sat on the couch, mostly dressed with his coat in his lap, fingers refusing to cooperate as he tried to fasten a com around his wrist.
He was weak. His entire body shook on the inside as if he’d worn every muscle to a frayed string and they were popping one by one. He could barely concentrate…and he was hungry…so hungry.
For the first time in his life as a vampire that hunger scared him. If he started feeding, could he stop anymore? Was Nico right…was there still a beast crouching inside his head waiting for the taste of death to lunge forward and destroy what was left of him?
The creature that the Prophet had so cleverly installed in him had been more than a devil on his shoulder; it had been a carrier for something far worse. If indeed Agnilath wanted David’s body as his host, he would need a way to catch the Prime. With so much security and so much strength, trying to overpower David from the outside was a tricky proposition that stood to waste a lot of time and magic. Better to go from the inside…to distract his lovers with violence and fear and then yank the leash, dragging David to him.
It was efficient, smart, played to David’s weaknesses. Rather brilliant, all things considered.
Worst of all Agnilath could activate it at any second, as soon as he realized his creature was dead and they were onto him. The longer the Tetrad waited to act on their knowledge the less leverage they had.
“He needs rest,” Miranda insisted. “We can lock him up and let him sleep a day. Agnilath won’t try to draw him out while the sun’s up unless he wants a roasted host. It’s a risk, but we risk far more by letting David go while he’s this vulnerable. Look at him, Nico!”
David let the sounds flow out again, instead focusing on the sound of his own breath, trying to stay grounded. He had no idea what it was safe to think; they were working on the assumption that the connection would be triggered by feeding, based on how it was attached to him, but they could be wrong. He of all people understood now how a blind eye could cost them all their sight.
A shadow moved before him, and quietly, Deven knelt at his feet, taking his hands and silently finishing the work of clasping the com.
“Your hands are shaking,” Deven said softly. “I’ve never seen them shake before.”
“I’ll be fine,” David replied, just as softly. “I can do this, Dev. There’s no more time to lose.”
Their eyes met. For a moment it was as if the moment fell away, and with it the decades of pain and loss between them, leaving only those first years they’d spent wound so tightly around each other. No Signet bond, no wedding rings, no promises; only love.
>
“I can make this right,” David told him. “I won’t fail you.”
Deven touched his face, holding his eyes, searching…then shook his head as if clearing it of fog and turned toward the others. “No,” he said sharply.
Miranda and Nico both went silent and stared at him.
“This is ludicrous,” Deven said. “I know it’s a good plan. I know what’s at stake. But it’s too big a gamble when the gamble is David’s sanity, let alone his life. Miranda’s right, Nico—look at him. He can barely dress himself right now much less head for the fight of his life. We’re reacting, not acting, and it’s going to lead us all to disaster. What happens if our timing is off, and the Prophet gets what he wants? Do we kill David, and ourselves, to stop him?”
“We don’t have to,” Nico said, looking away. “I can remake the bond, if I need to. I’ve been studying it. I can make sure we’ll survive, if…”
“Don’t you dare,” Miranda said.
Nico looked over at her, clearly surprised at the quiet menace in her voice.
“If we go through with this and it goes south, don’t even think about breaking him off of me. If the alternative is living bound to you, if you’re the one who gets him killed…I will gladly go down with my Prime.”
Nico had gone pale, but said, in a whisper, “As you will it.”
“That’s enough…from both of you.” Deven stood, squeezing David’s hand before turning to the others. “I’m not letting him take a step out of this room until we’ve talked this over more. Once he’s had a little rest David could piss out a better plan than this one. After the last twenty-four hours I don’t think—”
Once again, David didn’t hear the rest…but this time he didn’t tune them out. Instead, he forced himself to his feet and Misted out of the Haven before they could stop him.
Chapter Sixteen
The first thing to do was feed.
The second he came out of the Mist he knew it was the last one he had in him; whether he could control his hunger or not there was no other choice.
Wavering on his feet, David stepped back out of sight, letting his senses come into focus to listen for a human passing by. Even exhausted, a hunter’s instincts never wavered. He only had to wait a few minutes.
Hyde Park, a neighborhood not far from UT campus, was a bustling hip community with lots of pedestrian traffic. He’d aimed for a street just on the edge of the area where by now the population would be sparser and someone could vanish without causing a scene. He’d always loved hunting here…lots of healthy young humans, full of vigor and excitement, still young enough to dream of changing the world before it changed them.
It was a strange thing, sometimes, to walk among humans, watching them carry out their short, hurried lives without any idea what might happen to them while they rushed from one place to another. This one might be on her way to break up with a boyfriend; that one might be pondering astrophysics or the latest idiot politician’s idiot gaffes. Any of them could carry in their minds a cure for some devastating disease, or a novel that would shift the entire culture.
Before long a young male caught his eye; alone, no dog, distracted by whatever he was listening to on his phone. Fit, but not strong enough to pose a real challenge even to a vampire half-dead on his feet.
The problem, of course, with feeding around here was that most of the young tended to be decent people, or at least had enough potential to work through their silly seasons and grow up to be decent people. If he had to kill, he was better off among the rich.
Luck, or something, favored him for a change. As the boy grew closer David managed an empathic sweep, and realized right away he’d struck gold. This one was a serial rapist—not that he’d ever call himself that, of course. That was what women were for, right? All the other men he interacted with online agreed. Men had to wake up and realize they’d been fooled into trying to please what was, essentially, a brainless toy.
Well, at least if David was going down, he’d take this piece of shit with him.
David was in command of his faculties—at least as far as he knew at the moment—and would in most cases have eased the human’s passing if for no other reason than to keep him quiet.
After the week he’d had, however, he was disinclined to be so generous.
He dragged the human away from the street, into a side yard among the overgrown shrubbery of people who had better things to do with money than hire gardeners.
The human died struggling violently, terrified, trying to scream but unable to make a sound. David had never really learned much of Miranda’s empathic offensive strategy but it was easy enough to create a private hell for the waste of skin whose death brought back the Prime’s strength. The rage that had consumed him while the creature had control was hardly gone, and letting it drive was a delicious feeling, even as it was terrifying.
For all their pretense of sophistication, they were vampires, after all.
How does it feel, boy? How does it feel to be used up and thrown away? To be afraid, but unable to fight a force bigger and stronger than you? How does it feel to be treated like garbage? That’s what you are, you pathetic child. Die in the gutter the way you deserve.
He let the body fall to the ground in a heap and leaned back against the fence, breathing hard, smiling. There it was again—that feeling of rightness, and righteousness. Such an easy high if you were willing to commit murder.
David relished the boy’s death flooding through his veins, soothing the itching glass-shard hunger and giving him strength. He drew the power through his body, letting it straighten his spine, lift his hanging head, gather his hands into fists. It healed him almost fully; if he were to find another, just one more, just one…all he needed was one more and he’d be at a hundred percent, then nothing the Prophet could do would…
He never completed the thought. Something reached out over the miles and seized his mind where he’d deliberately left it vulnerable. Even as he realized he knew that presence, had felt it in every step from the moment the spell had activated, his will caved before it.
Come and get me, you bastard.
David’s body was restored, but underneath the fury and death, his heart felt hollowed out and raw, and sad…so sad. Whether things went as they were supposed to or not, he had a sense—prophetic, perhaps, or just a tiny flash of sanity in a life gone abruptly insane—that some part of him was not going to survive the night.
And so he waited, five minutes into ten, eyes closed, listening for footsteps. He knew Miranda was trying to find him, but the power that gripped him from the inside was blocking her. He couldn’t have called for help if he’d wanted to.
He didn’t hear footsteps. Instead he heard gunshots.
By the time he realized what kind of bullets were hitting his body, he was already screaming.
*****
“They have him,” Miranda whispered, half-sobbing. “Oh, God, they have him. They’re hurting him…we have to hurry.”
Dev and Nico were both pale, faces tight with strain, as they tried to do what Miranda couldn’t and keep David’s suffering separate from themselves. But she knew what those bullets felt like…she could feel them as if they were still in her own body…and they were doing it to David, who was still so hurt…he never should have left…
For a moment she wasn’t sure she could go on; it had hit so suddenly, as had the realization that she couldn’t reach her husband, couldn’t comfort him, couldn’t even say she was coming. Whatever the Prophet was doing to him, he was alone. That was the worst part, he shouldn’t be alone—
“Miranda.” Deven tapped her cheek firmly—not a slap, but enough to get her attention. “You can do this. We can do this. Together. I’m not going to let him die—trust me if you trust anything.”
He held onto her and kept her attention, breathing with her for a few seconds to steady her before steering her toward the car. “We can do this,” he said again. “You are Quee
n. You can do this.”
She nodded. “I can. I can. I am…okay. I can. Let’s go.”
*****
“At last…we’ve been waiting for you to arrive.”
The four guards who had dragged him into the building and down dozens of stairs to what had to be two or three levels belowground hauled him up to his knees. He could feel blood pouring out of the bullet wounds, as the bullets themselves kept squirming through his flesh, inching their way toward organs, one already rubbing up against a lung…the pain was beyond agony, it was enough to drive anyone insane. He had tortured people to this point over the course of hours, not minutes, and by then they were nearly incoherent, nothing but drool and piss begging to tell every secret they’d ever heard.
Justice for them, he supposed. No more than he deserved by now.
A hand seized his hair and pulled his head up. The blurry world around him was thrown into sharp relief.
“Kai,” he whispered hoarsely.
“Don’t insult me, boy,” the Prophet snapped. “You know my name. Say it.”
He fought for a breath against the bullet that had just pierced his lung. “Agnilath.”
“Good boy.” The Prophet looked at the guards. “Get him on the table.”
They all but slung him onto a broad stone slab, and with a few efficient knife swipes, one of them cut through his clothes while another fastened heavy chains to his wrists and ankles as well as another to his neck. A third guard removed his wedding ring, Signet, and wrist com.
The human held the com up to the Prophet, who snorted; the guard produced a hammer, set the com on the stone, and smashed it.
It was hard to tell what Agnilath was actually doing, but it sounded like he was changing clothes off to one side of the room. “This chamber is magically shielded,” he said. “Your helpmates won’t be able to track your bond in here, and as long as that little toy of yours is out of commission and your phone is dealt with—” David heard another smash, and winced in spite of everything— “we shouldn’t have any aggravating interruptions.”
Shadow Rising (The Shadow World Book 7) Page 32