"I knew you'd know," Izzie whispered between kisses. "I knew it."
"You knew?"
"No, you did. You knew to bite me. To do this. I knew you'd know."
A startled laugh tore through his throat. "I had no fucking clue, you silly girl. I was terrified you'd hate me."
Izzie giggled, not bothered by his confession. "I could never hate you."
"He couldn't kill me like that. You didn't need to jump."
"I did."
"Why?"
"Because I love you." Izzie sat back. She was so beautiful he wanted to cry. "I love you."
For a second, a sliver of a second, Ryker would have sworn his heart started beating again. It was fleeting but delicious, and though he knew it to be a lie, the sensation that bore it became immediately permanent. A rush from which he'd never come down. She loved him.
"You love me," he repeated. "So you decided to kill yourself."
"You know what I mean."
"Hardly ever."
The words were true, but for the moment explanations didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
The worst was over, and they had each other.
Chapter Twenty-One
The strange thing was she didn't feel all that different. For whatever reason, Izzie had always assumed on some basic level that becoming something other than human altered their perception so outrageously they became a wild, bastardized version of themselves. Her body was harder now, yes, but not unbreakable. Though something seemed amiss—she never thought she'd notice the lack of a heartbeat—the energy coursing through her veins was unlike anything she'd experienced.
Ryker kept reaching for her hand or shoulder, and asked every ten minutes or so if she was all right. Izzie suspected it would be a while before he accepted her actions were deliberate. He hadn't been in her head before she made the leap—hadn't experienced her epiphany, even if he had been the cause of it.
A day had passed since Wright burst into The Wall, crossbow at the ready. Izzie spent most of that day resting and trying to reconcile her sudden hunger for blood with innate disgust at the thought of consuming it. Ryker had asked her to remain in Connor's borrowed room until her stomach felt sufficiently full, namely for fear her newfound bloodlust would render her a danger to the humans downstairs.
In the interim, he brought her entrée after entrée of normal food with some of Connor's special remedies for the newly turned vampire. Catsup, for instance, mixed with pig's blood, was the condiment of choice on bloody rare burgers otherwise slathered with cheese and vegetables. Transitional foods, Ryker explained, were all the rage with younger vampires. Their taste-buds didn't change except for the craving for blood, therefore introducing blood on familiar items made the idea of consuming it less threatening.
By the time evening rolled around, Izzie had made her way through two full bags of blood without the help of chasers. With her stomach full and her body rested, it was time to move forward. Moving forward meant one thing for now: killing Michael Prentiss.
That was one death Izzie felt she could truly relish. Whatever happened from there was in the air, unplanned and unmapped, and though uncertainty felt a little strange, she likewise couldn't deny her rush of excitement.
For the first time, the true first time, she was actually free.
The sun had just dipped below the horizon when Ryker entered the room for the last time, holding a fresh change of clothes. "Wright's coming with us," he said, tossing her his offering. "These are yours."
Izzie blinked and held up a tank top she hadn't seen in what felt like years. "These were in my duffle. The one I dropped in the alley."
"He had them. Guess he was never too far behind us."
"He's coming with us?" Izzie swallowed hard when Ryker nodded. "And he's going to be carrying his crossbow?"
"We have an understanding, he and I. He won't do anything."
"Not to me, but—"
"Not to you or me. We talked it out. Had our Kumbayah moment and all."
Izzie frowned. She'd sooner believe Jesus Christ had returned than she would Zack Wright made peace with a vampire.
Then Ryker cleared his throat and added, "I also told him I knew where his little one's staying."
She rolled her eyes. "You're a moron."
"To be fair, I know that."
"You threatened Berlie?"
Ryker shrugged. "Got shit done, didn't it? I had him call his girl and stay on the phone with her while Connor went over to get your things."
"Zack let someone he doesn't know into his room?" She shook her head. "I think he's a pod person."
"Well, he could hear her not getting killed or kidnapped the entire time."
Izzie snorted. "You're lucky you're still alive."
"He's tied up!"
"Yeah, but he's that good."
Ryker looked offended. "And I'm not?"
"You are, but he wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating you." Izzie shrugged, then threw her hands in the air. "Well, it's true! You supernatural types think you got it all figured out, but Zack's as tough as they come. I think you'd have a better chance at killing Rasputin."
"Your faith in me is overwhelming."
She rolled her eyes. "Men are so insecure." Izzie paused, grinning at his disgruntled frown. "He's coming with us."
"Yes."
As far as weapons went, Wright was definitely a good one. While Izzie logically understood they'd benefit from going in with him at their backs, the image of her old friend's arrow barreling toward her lover was something she wouldn't forget anytime soon. No matter what happened from here, something between them had broken forever. And as much as the break saddened her, Izzie wasn't sure if she wanted it mended.
"He wouldn't have killed me," Ryker said again, as though reading her thoughts. "Back there. When you jumped. That shot—"
"Was the first. I know his M.O. He would've paralyzed you and moved in for the kill. What I did stopped that second part from happening."
"And got you vamped in the process."
Izzie's eyes narrowed. "I wanted that part. You wanted that part, too."
"I wanted you like this," Ryker agreed softly. "Like me, just so I can keep you forever. But I wanted it to be your choice."
She offered a tender smile. "It was."
"How the fuck can you say that? How the fuck could you have known what I'd do? Shit, Izzie, I didn't know myself until you were in my arms." He paused. "I still don't. I just knew I couldn't let you go."
"I knew because I love you."
Ryker grew still, his eyes wide and vulnerable. Izzie would wager her whole existence no one had seen him like that. These soft looks, this openness, were entirely for her.
"I knew when I asked you to bite me again in the shower," Izzie continued. "This was always where we were headed."
"You said you didn't know what love was before."
"Doesn't mean I didn't feel it. I just didn't know what it was."
Ryker considered her for a long moment, then the shadow in his eyes drew away, replaced with the stormy cloud of endless wonder she'd grown to cherish. The same look he'd given her when he saw her on the other side of his cell, the body of the guard between them. The connection they'd forged the first night in the alley had solidified then. She hadn't realized it at the time, but it was the moment she accepted they would be in each other's lives forever.
"You understand, right?" he murmured, closing the space between them. His lips found her brow, his hands trailing gently up and down her arms. "You didn't before."
"Understand what?"
"This is it. You and me from this point on."
Izzie smiled and cupped his cheeks. "Vampire of mine," she said, and kissed him softly. "You never stood a chance of giving rid of me."
* * * * *
Though Ryker sensed Wright would keep his end of the bargain, there was no way he'd tempt the hunter by making himself vulnerable. Izzie remembered generally where Michael kept residence, and there was no re
ason to suspect the psychopath had uprooted. Per the conditions of their agreement, Wright handed over his truck to Izzie and took temporary custody of the motorcycle she'd left at the community garage near The Wall a lifetime ago. She led the way through the warehouse district, and Ryker sat comfortable with the knowledge they could run Wright down should his allegiance run out.
Once the details from Izzie's memory shifted from firm to uncertain, she parked the truck on a side street's curb, and they resumed the hunt on foot. At Ryker's insistence, Wright maintained a distance of twenty-five feet ahead of them, armed with his crossbow and responding to whatever directional orders Ryker or Izzie decided to issue. The hunter was obviously not pleased with the arrangement, but had little say.
Ryker noticed this immediately—Wright wouldn't argue with Izzie now. He could barely look at her, and when he did, the shame on his face was damn big pill to swallow. Had the circumstances been different, the hunter might be worth someone's pity. But the circumstances weren't different. No one could change the fact that Wright had aimed and fired his crossbow, and Izzie had jumped in the path. Wright had still been the piece that moved his former friend and ally toward death, turning her into the thing he hated above all else.
Yet there was love there, too. Love that death couldn't eradicate, even when death came back. Whatever else, Ryker was certain Wright's affection for Izzie—be it romantically inclined or, as he now suspected, more like love between siblings—would never falter because of what she'd become. He might hate what she'd done in the steps between, but things were never coated as wholly evil or wholly good.
And perhaps, in pulling the trigger, Wright had finally caught a glance of his reflection.
Either way, Ryker had nothing on which to substantiate his theories, and he was the sort of guy who went for cold hard facts rather than speculation, especially where the permanent sort of death was concerned. He and Izzie remained evenly spaced behind Wright, she armed with her dagger and Ryker with Bessy leaning against his shoulder.
"We're getting close," Izzie whispered. "These buildings all look the same."
He nodded. While he might not have had the luxury of a personal tour, he did have over a century of sniffing out his enemies under his belt. And Michael's odor grew heavier with each step, almost offensive to the senses. Either his cousin wasn't using the scent-camouflage he'd relied on before, or assumed Ryker was far enough away not to hide anymore.
Izzie froze without warning, raising a steady hand and pointing to a building across the street with a bright green door and a crumbling veranda. "There."
"You sure?"
"No. It just looks more familiar than the others."
Ryker shrugged. "Fair enough."
Izzie broke away from his side then, racing to catch up with Wright. Ryker watched her take the hunter's arm and steer him in the indicated direction. Her movements became more pronounced, more confident. As though the closer she came to the building the more certain she was it was the right place.
"Three of them," Izzie said as Ryker approached. "The two women and Prentiss himself."
"Might be more now," Ryker replied.
Wright wore a scowl. "You brought me out here for three fucking vamps? Are you shitting me?"
Ryker shrugged. "Call it a workout."
"Let's hope for more. I need to kill things."
"Anyone ever tell you you're an angry person?" Izzie asked.
Her tone was light and her eyes sparkled, but Wright's visible discomfort at the question stalled any humor her words might have evoked.
Instead, he shrugged a shoulder and replied, "Hear it every now and then."
Ryker eyed the crossbow in the hunter's arms. "Just make sure you don't aim that at a friend, friend."
Wright didn't respond, but for a shadow of a second, Ryker would have sworn his mouth tugged upwards in what could only resemble a grin.
The man nodded at the door. "Anyone gonna knock?"
"Knocking is for the civilized. Last I checked, drugging me twice and selling me to mad scientists isn't civilized." Izzie tried the handle but it was predictably locked. She shrugged, raised a leg and punched her foot at the knob, kicking it in with a fierce explosion of splintered wood and dust.
"Well, that's one way to do it," Ryker murmured.
Izzie nodded. "Think they know we're here now."
"Element of surprise, Izz." Wright shook his head, stepping over the threshold and into the shadows. "Not exactly stealthy."
"For three fucking vamps?" she mimicked in a falsetto. "Are you shitting me?"
"Element of surprise," the demon hunter repeated, his tone somewhat strained. "No matter how many vamps."
Izzie shrugged and smiled, a large, toothy smile that showcased her newly sharpened fangs. Ryker had only seen them but twice throughout the day, and hadn't realized she already had mastered drawing them out without the promise of sex or blood to coax her. "I am the element of surprise," she said.
Whatever Wright had been about to say fell to the wayside the next second. He whirled around and took aim, firing blindly into the darkened space at his left. Something grunted from the shadows, and then the hunter was gone, on the trail of a wounded vampire.
"That was fast," Ryker said.
Izzie blinked and met his gaze, then her attention drifted to something over his shoulder. The next thing he knew, she had flipped over him, her dagger painting invisible strokes in the air as she clashed headfirst with one of the vamp bitches from the alley.
Ryker's shoulders dropped. "Fuck."
He'd seen her in action before, watched her as she handled herself among a bunch of loudmouthed predators who probably deserved the death he'd prevented her from giving them, but whatever he'd stumbled upon that night had nothing on this. Izzie became a blur, ducking, blocking, rolling, kicking and biting. She sliced and slashed, drawing bloody red lines across the blonde vampire's face, digging her blade into soft tissue. Ryker lingered just long enough to see if she needed help, but it seemed foolish getting in the middle of a one-sided slaughter.
Izzie had been deadly as a hunter. Now she was death incarnate.
The air split apart then with the wail of a familiar voice, sending tremors through the walls and rattling the floor, pulling together in a mess of syllables and outrage. Above all, he heard, "Niles!"
It was almost over.
The stomping of feet thundered toward him. Ryker swung around and aimed Bessy into the dark, firing blindly. He heard rather than saw the shot connect, felt the impact as his bastard of a cousin staggered into view. He fired again before their gazes connected. Michael's eyes were wild and feral, a bloody crater residing now in the space near his heart. It wasn't enough; Bessy couldn't kill his kind—the most she could do was slow them down.
"Just couldn't stay away, could you, Niles?" Michael roared. His legs might wobble, but they were determined to close the space between them. "No. Had to go and fuck up a good thing."
Michael swung but he had no coordination. Ryker ducked, swung, and aimed again. Red splattered, and a chunk of the bastard's arm disappeared.
"This is what you do?" Michael screamed. "You deny me peace? You murder Caroline and—"
"Oh, fucking stuff it!" Ryker snapped.
Then Izzie appeared behind Michael, her arms linking around his throat and her legs wrapping around his waist. The bloodied dagger remained in her hand. "Your friend ran away," she said, her voice low. "Seems she lacked faith in the cause."
Michael thrashed wildly, but Izzie didn't relent.
"It's good," she continued, "I didn't want to kill her, anyway. I have a soft spot for brainwashed groupies."
"Fucking bitch!"
"You wanted me here," Ryker murmured, stepping forward. "You've been trying to get my attention for years."
"I wanted you dead," Michael sputtered. "You deserved death."
"But you didn't kill me. You sold me. And her. An innocent girl."
"Caroline was innocent!"
> "Caroline was dying, you twit. Do you think she'd still be alive if I hadn't done what I did?"
"She deserved a better fate!"
"Yes, she did." Ryker caught Izzie's gaze and held. "We all do."
For a second, a split second before she drew the blade into Michael's chest, Ryker felt a twinge of regret, of kinship for something he wouldn't again touch.
It wasn't enough to come and demand vengeance for a debt—and fuck knew both he and Izzie deserved their pound of flesh for what Michael had sold them to—but demanding it like this felt caustic and brutal, felt much more like the actions of a monster than of the man he tried so desperately to be. For whatever else Michael had done, Ryker shared the guilt. He had made his cousin into what he was. Built him from the second he didn't seal his fate that night in the Natchez cemetery.
The man Ryker had known in childhood had died in the war, died alongside his sister and mother. Whatever he was now was a demon of a different color. Though Ryker wasn't responsible for his actions, he was responsible for him in some small way. For the rabid creature he'd become.
And then the universe aligned with itself and provided one of those perfect moments—a time when masks fell aside and people were revealed for who they really were. The steely, spiteful look on Michael's face blinked out just an instant, and he caught a glimpse of the frightened boy captured beneath the hatred and fury.
The boy said, "Please, Niles. Please."
He wasn't pleading to live. He was begging to die.
And that was one thing Ryker owed him in full.
* * * * *
Izzie swore to herself this would be her last. The last time she went out with a mind to kill. The last time she added new bloodstains to her dagger. Judge, jury, and executioner wasn't a role she welcomed—it never had been. Yet even as she knew she deserved whatever she took for what they had sold her into, deciding fate wasn't something she was cut out for.
Prentiss was dangerous. That much was certain. Anger and resentment had fueled his search for over a century, and there was no reason to believe he'd stop with Ryker. Thus when Prentiss bowed his head and asked for death, she tossed her lover the blade and let him give it. But that was it. Death had been too much a part of who she was. She didn't want to be that person anymore.
Know Thine Enemy Page 24