Know Thine Enemy

by Stanton, Rosalie

  "But our intention is just," Prentiss said, "We are not vampires who prey on the blood of humans, or in any way impede the progress of the human race."

  Izzie snorted. "A message that rings particularly true seeing as how you drugged me and tied me up."

  "Our goal is to integrate ourselves into your society."

  "My goal is to bash your head in."

  Prentiss smirked, but waved a hand. "Our goal, admittedly, has been met with resistance from others in the community. Vampires like your friend, Ryker."

  Izzie frowned. "What?"

  "Mr. Ryker. He is a friend of yours, correct?"

  "Is that what this is about?" she asked. "Look, I don't know that Ryker guy. He came out of nowhere yesterday and then he just kinda bogarted my table and started talking my ear off. He said he's been following me—"

  Prentiss nodded. "He has."

  "But so have you."

  "Comes with the territory."

  "The stalker territory," she muttered, "So you know Ryker."

  There was little point in asking. From the way Prentiss's expression darkened, from the deep loathing set on his face, she already knew the answer. It was the same look that befell Wright every time he thought about his dead wife or the events that had led him to the hard life he wore now.

  "We are acquainted," Prentiss said softly.

  "But he's not one of yours."

  "No. Mr. Ryker represents the very sort of monster C.R.O.S.S. is determined to eradicate. It is our intention, Izzie, to enter a world wherein vampire hunters such as yourself are no longer required to serve as guardians of the human race." He shrugged. "Ryker and those like him are of the belief that humans are below us in the food chain, and that it is our right to pick you off."

  "We believe vampires are a subhuman species," Moira chimed in. "Those who pledge dedication to C.R.O.S.S. are those who were turned against their will, or unknowing what they would become."

  Juliette nodded. "Feeding on blood isn't right."

  "There are those who believe themselves godlike for their ability to defy time, cheat death, and feast on the flesh of the living," Prentiss said. "Mr. Ryker is one of them. He is of the same breed that butchered Mr. Wright's family, and therein leading him on his dark path."

  Izzie wet her lips, the pain in her head stretching until she felt numb. Everything throbbed and pulsated. Nausea crept into her stomach. "I'm not the one you want for this."

  "No?"

  "You . . . mentioned . . . you mention Harrison. My father."

  Prentiss inclined his head.

  "Vamps have done nothing to me. Hunting is just a job. Or a favor, really. A favor to Wright. I owe him, and that's why I do what I do. It's nothing personal."

  "But Harrison Bennett did," Prentiss said. "Do something to you."

  Izzie winced and did her best to ignore him. "I'm with Zack because he saved me."

  "You're here because you're different from the other hunters."

  She frowned, her thoughts tugging her back to The Wall. Hadn't Ryker said the same thing? Did she have something tattooed somewhere? Hunters weren't typically known for their conversational skills. How anyone could determine she wasn't like every other badass in her field was beyond her, but it had definitely become a nuisance, and rendered her effectively pissed.

  "Mr. Wright wouldn't listen to us if he was the one sitting in that chair," Prentiss observed.

  "Mr. Wright wouldn't have been dumb enough to wind up in this chair in the first place," Izzie replied. "He would've nailed your ass to the wall."

  "And that's why we want you," Moira said. "You don't act before you think."

  "He does what he has to."

  "He does it for revenge," the blonde continued. "You don't seek revenge on us."

  "Not yet. Keep talking, though, and you might convince me."

  Prentiss grinned. "See. And that's why I like you."

  "I'm flattered." Izzie looked quickly to the quieter woman . . . Juliette, or whoever. She didn't like the way the vamp studied her neck. Maybe she was fresh off the tap. It could be Izzie's imagination, but the chick looked like she could fall off the wagon at any time.

  "You haven't closed your mind off," Prentiss said, drawing her attention back to him. "You're still listening."

  Izzie smiled through her teeth. "Mistake number one."

  "Our interests right now are solely in cleaning up the streets," Prentiss said. "Which is in league with your interest . . . or at the very least, the interest of your friend, Mr. Wright."

  "And you're doing it by kidnapping one hunter at a time?"

  The man shrugged. "Our methods differ from town to town. Finding you here was a happy coincidence, and Mr. Ryker has clearly taken an interest in you. That makes you a weakness where he is concerned."

  Izzie arched a brow. "Don't get me wrong, but he doesn't seem like the type to have such an obvious weakness."

  "You wouldn't think so, wouldn't you?"

  "Unless you're another one of those closest cases who's read Twilight too many times. Vamps don't go moon-eyed for us puny mortals. Ryker wants nothing to do with me."

  Prentiss just grinned. "My dear, you don't know Mr. Ryker as I do."

  "What? You guys go to the same summer camp?"

  The grin thinned just a bit, and became all the more menacing. A shudder coursed through her, but Izzie ignored it. Whatever she'd said had visibly struck a nerve, and she wasn't the sort who dabbled in other peoples'—or vampires'—affairs. When it got personal, it got nasty, and she was already in it up to her hips in Wright's personal war. No way would she allow some two-bit vegan bloodsucker manipulate her into doing his dirty work.

  "Mr. Ryker and I were once very close," the vampire confessed.

  "And he broke your fragile heart?"

  Prentiss stiffened, but the disgust on his face was too genuine for a star-crossed lovers thing. Perhaps his self-proclaimed conservatism extended to bigotry.

  "Mr. Ryker is the worst sort of monster," he said. "He feigns empathy to get close, but, rest assured, Izzie, he will destroy you just as readily as he would anyone else. He only has his own preservation in mind."

  She barked a laugh. "How is this different from any other animal?"

  Prentiss slammed his hands against the table. "You're not listening!" he snarled. "Ryker and all like him must be put down. You're the professional in this sort of pest control. I have a problem and I want it fixed."

  "So you admit that this might be just a teensy bit more personal than you let on?"

  Juliette and Moira exchanged glances.

  "Let me be very clear," Prentiss said slowly as his facial muscles plainly attempting to pull his mouth into a grin. "My personal feelings have little weight on this matter."

  That grimace of his was one of the most disturbing displays Izzie had ever seen. She snickered again. "Obviously."

  "You are not the easiest girl to reason with."

  "And I wanted so bad for you to like me. Though get real—I can't imagine anyone would like being tied up by a bunch of bloodsuckers and lectured as to who the really bad guys are."

  Moira stirred at that, her expression darkening. "We're not bloodsuckers."

  "Dollface, you wouldn't be standing here if you weren't getting it somewhere, on or off the tap." Izzie shook her head. "There was this small religious sect a few hundred years back in New England. One of the tenets of their faith was they couldn't bump uglies, so guess what happened?" She paused. "Yeah, if you don't do the nasty, you can't survive. That includes you guys. Except in this case, 'the nasty' is blood and is, well, actually nasty."

  Prentiss made a sound that might have been a chuckle in a former life. "You either have utter faith that we won't bring you harm or an inflated superiority complex."

  "Can't it be both?"

  His frozen grin tightened. "We drink blood because we must," he acknowledged. "But no one here takes pleasure in the act. We survive only to reach others . . . and hopefully put an end to th
is epidemic."

  "The vampire epidemic?"

  "Yes."

  "This isn't like smallpox or something," Izzie said. "There will always be vampires who like violence and mayhem just as surely as there will always be Presbyterians. You can't just hope someone doesn't fall into their line of thinking."

  He shook his head. "If we isolate and destroy the problem, we will have order."

  "That sounds an awful lot like a dictator I've read about . . . ."

  Prentiss glared at her. "You're not interested in helping us, are you?"

  "Gee, you catch on?"

  "You truly do not want to be part of the solution."

  "Not the Ultimate Solution."

  He snickered. "Some hunter."

  "The ones you want are the ones who'd just as soon kill you as look at you." Izzie fought the urge to look at her dagger. God, what she wouldn't do… "The ones like me struggle enough to give a shit about what they do in the first place."

  "There are none like you," Juliette offered, the hungry gleam still present in her eyes. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but either way, the lady gave Izzie the wiggins. "You're the first without a vendetta. A reason to do what you do. We thought you could help us."

  "Sucks to be you," Izzie replied. "So, what? Is this the part where you kill me out of mercy?"

  Prentiss's eyes narrowed. "We don't kill here," he said. "I told you, human life is something we consider precious."

  "So that's it?" Her hands flexed. She took another glance around the room, but nothing had revealed itself since the first look, and her head still ached. "You just kidnapped me to give me a sales pitch and now I leave . . . no harm, no other stuff?"

  The look on the vampire's face clearly betrayed he would like nothing more than to leap down the length of the table and ravage her throat, but he hid it behind another tight smile.

  "That's right," he said. "If you feel there's nothing you would like to do for us, then you're free to go."

  "After I'm untied."

  "That's right."

  "And I won't be asked to make a blood donation?"

  "We don't drink human blood," Prentiss said. "Our supply comes from butchers willing to give us a cut of their stock. Pig, cattle . . . we eat whatever we can, so long as it didn't come from a human host."

  "You know," Izzie said. "Piggies have feelings, too."

  He ignored her. "If you think you might reconsider—"

  "I won't."

  Prentiss huffed and waved a hand. "Very well. Juliette, if you will."

  The dark-headed female at his right nodded and slowly made her way around the table, focused intently on Izzie's face. Izzie returned the stare with all she could muster, though she wouldn't deny the nervous thrill that rushed down her spine as the woman neared. Now or never, if the girl wanted a bite. It didn't help that Juliette possessed a pair of disturbingly large brown eyes—the sort that seemed ordinary but became unsettling the longer they remained attached to one object. By the time the vampire was within reach, a bone-rattling shudder had racked through Izzie's body, but she refused to look away. She wouldn't give Juliette, or Prentiss, the satisfaction.

  At last, Juliette looked down, her hands prying at Izzie's bonds.

  "Here you go, dearie," she purred. "Good as new."

  Izzie shivered, her aching skin humming with relief as the ropes fell away. She glanced at her dagger, and though her hand ached for the familiarity of its smooth handle, she kept herself from seizing it. No sudden movements seemed to be the best bet—she wouldn't believe they truly intended to let her walk out the door until she had put at least three county lines between them.

  "If you reconsider," Prentiss said, "we'll leave word at The Wall concerning how you might find us."

  Izzie paused. For whatever reason, she'd assumed The Wall was Ryker's sanctuary. If they had informants from within Connor's place, there might be nowhere safe for the mysterious vamp to hide. At least not in this town.

  Then again, it wasn't any concern of hers.

  Not really.

  "Yeah, well," she said, shaking off the thought as her fingers inched toward her blade. "I'd say don't hold your breath, but something tells me that won't be a problem."

  Prentiss smiled thinly. "It's been a pleasure."

  "There's a word for it."

  "Don't forget your knife."

  Her feigned aloofness vanished the second he referred to the blade. Izzie fisted the handle and relaxed. She glanced at Juliette and smiled faintly before turning back to Prentiss.

  No sudden movements.

  "Don't worry," she said. "Never go anywhere without it."

  "Yes," Prentiss replied, his tone ominous. "I know."

  * * * * *

  He didn't like this.

  Ryker didn't know how long he'd stared at the sliver of sidewalk where Izzie's scent hung the heaviest, annoyed with himself for caring but unable to stop his inner cricket from singing.

  He hadn't intended to come out this way at all, but Connor had asked him to lock up the front, which typically meant ensuring the rowdier customers hadn't made a mess outside. The sweet, natural aroma of a young woman was something no vampire could resist. It was the first thing he'd noticed about Izzie, the first thing he'd committed to memory. Her scent. Her pure, undoctored, all-female scent.

  Women nowadays bathed in perfume, and while he understood the appeal to human males, such fragrances were often an affront to his super-heightened senses. Izzie smelled like soap and toothpaste. Either she knew what attracted the seedy underbelly of the demon world, or she didn't care to scrub down in frilly foam or whatever else the girls of today enjoyed. Ryker liked it. Were circumstances different, it likely would have led him straight to her throat.

  Thus, when he stepped outdoors, he couldn't help but drink in the lingering hint of her scent.

  Something had happened here.

  "Evertin' all right?"

  Ryker shoved his hands into his coat pockets and kicked the curb. "The girl."

  "Whut?"

  "Izzie. She came out this way."

  "Right." Connor huffed in agreement. "After she din't eat no food."

  Ryker domed a brow and favored his friend with a slanted look. "That wasn't personal, you know. The girl's a hunter. She probably doesn't make a habit of taking food from strangers."

  "Coulda taken it from me."

  "Yeah, but she didn't know that."

  Connor gaped at him for a minute then furrowed his brow as though he hadn't considered this before. "Err. Right."

  Ryker inhaled and nodded, his attention returning to the slab of pavement where Izzie's scent was the strongest. "Something happened here."

  "Happened?"

  "Yeah. Girl like that doesn't stop to fumble for her keys. She made tracks to get away from me and stopped a hair outside the door?" He shook his head. "Something happened here. She ran into something."

  "Or sumfink ran into 'er."

  That might have been the most intelligent thing Ryker had heard the other man say. He nodded and looked to the numerous shadows and alleyways in which a predator might hide.

  "Ya tink sumfink grabbed 'er, is that it?"

  "Maybe." He didn't like jumping to conclusions.

  "'Nother bloodsucker, ya tink?"

  Ryker frowned. No, that didn't make sense. None of this made much sense. The odds of a vamp making a random successful grab of a talented hunter were steep.

  "No."

  "Coulda followed her."

  "I followed her. If someone else was on her tail, I would've known."

  "Ya tink?"

  The note in Connor's voice lent him pause, but Ryker decided not to pursue it, or Izzie's mysteriously hovering scent.

  Perhaps he was thinking too hard. After all, it had been over a century since a woman had stirred in him more than a mere passing interest. The most action he'd seen in years was the blood he nursed off a willing neck before bringing his bedmate to fruition. Izzie was different. She knew wha
t he was, yet she wasn't afraid or disgusted. Even as a hunter, she didn't reach for her weapon unless she was under fire.

  Perhaps that was why he was concerned.

  Perhaps.

  Either way, she was a clever, resourceful girl. He wasn't one to worry, and he definitely didn't want to start now over someone he'd just met.

  Not now. No. Though something told him if she didn't show up by the following evening, his answer would change.

  Chapter Five

  The mind was a funny thing.

  Izzie's childhood, for the most part, was nothing more than a blur of images and sensations. Memories of her later years—the last spent as Harrison's daughter—were more concrete. The line separating what she imagined and what she knew was real had solidified somewhere between the ages of ten and thirteen. Granted, she didn't particularly care to reflect on the life she'd left behind, but she had learned how to compartmentalize. How to preserve the memories she needed and lock all the others away.

  Her mind felt fuzzy when she pried open her eyes the next day. She blinked and yawned, her skin humming, her heart pounding, and a sense of dread pooling in her belly. A few moments passed before the night returned in all its confusing glory.

  Izzie sat up, looking from one corner to the next. This was her motel room—the same one she'd awakened in the day before. Her duffle bag sat where she'd left it, as did the crossbow she'd inherited from Wright and the clothes she'd worn last night. On her nightstand lay her dagger. Everything else looked in place. Everything else . . . .

  "The fuck." She threw her legs over the side of the bed. Another moment passed before the haze faded, and then the rest came flooding in. Leaving the warehouse where Prentiss and his friends had held her, spouting peace theories and making offers. She'd taken a complicated way home and doubled back a time or two to ensure she wasn't followed, though something told her it was for nothing. If one vamp could get a beat on where she and Wright were staying, others could, too.

  Wright had been in by the time she got back, but she hadn't stopped in to say hello. She knew she'd get her ass handed to her when they next spoke and decided it would be better to put a few hours sleep between being kidnapped and explaining where she'd been. Wright's head would spin around but she had no control one way or another.