Heartless (Crossbreed Series Book 9)

by Dannika Dark

  “I don’t need muscles to read light,” he countered. “I’ve been working in the gym every day and eating twice my calories. It won’t be long.”

  “That is rule,” Viktor said, putting his foot down. “I have been fair to each of you when you have had trauma. Raven, Blue, and even Gem. You will accept the time I give you. Raven will be without weapons, so I want you to work with her today.”

  “Wait a second.” I got up, flustered by the idea of going in without my push daggers. “You want me unarmed?”

  “That is the club policy. The owner fires anyone carrying, so if you are caught and shown preferential treatment, it will—how you say—blow our cover.”

  Gem smiled approvingly.

  Viktor sighed and rubbed his eyes. He must have been up all night working out the details. “Use your Mage skills to protect yourself. No bloodsucking.”

  I snorted. “That takes the fun out of it. So what do you think happened to the victims?”

  “It is possible they made mistakes or tried to quit. Fighters never leave, not unless it is in a body bag. A headless or charred body would draw attention from insiders working for the police, so the person behind this is very crafty indeed. Perhaps a Chitah delivered a fatal dose of venom and sealed the wounds. I think what is more likely is that a Mage killed them. There are a number of those with rare but deadly gifts. You’re a Stealer, and your kind were once executioners. Stealing someone’s light and then their life is not as messy.”

  “You said the first girl had blood on her. That sounds pretty messy.”

  “Da. But no injuries from what they told us. We believe after she was strangled, the culprit dumped her body in the human district in hopes that she would be misidentified as human. We can only speculate what is happening. That is why we need you to go in and gather as much information as you can.”

  Blue gripped the rope with one hand. “And me? Don’t keep me home, Viktor. I’ve taken enough time off. I’m ready to work.”

  Viktor gave her a reluctant smile. I’d never met a stronger woman than Blue, and she wanted to get back into the thick of things—perhaps too quickly. Since returning from our last mission in West Virginia, Blue hadn’t acknowledged the attack that left her scarred. I felt a kinship to her for that, because I had a tendency to bottle up my rage and pain. I couldn’t imagine how the hell she was dealing with those scars, ones I hadn’t seen since that fateful night. All I knew was that they covered her torso, and her days of wearing sexy low-cut tank tops had ended—not unless she was wearing a button-up over it. Now most of her shirts had high collars like the flannel shirt she wore today.

  “If Raven leaves club with anyone, I want you to follow,” Viktor said, giving Blue a respectable role. “We cannot rely on a tracking device that might malfunction.”

  “My equipment never malfunctions,” Wyatt grumbled.

  Shepherd snickered. “That’s not what your last date said.”

  “That’s it?” Blue cocked her head. “Or am I also working inside?”

  “You will wear a small phone around your neck. Wyatt will design something that will not be a danger to your animal.” Viktor blushed and averted his eyes. “The club has a provocative dress code that I do not think you can adhere to. That is why I chose Claude.”

  Blue’s lips thinned, and she stormed out of the room. We felt the weight of her fury as the door slammed.

  Viktor clasped his hands behind his back and paced toward the door as if he might go after her, but he didn’t. “Raven and Claude will stay in separate hotels. Only Shepherd and Blue are permitted to return home. Claude will work as Raven’s partner inside the club, and Blue will follow her every move on the outside. These roles are vital to Raven’s safety. I must be updated on any new developments.”

  “And what’ll you have me doing? Helping Kira with the dishes?” Christian argued.

  Viktor spun on his heel. “I want you to create Raven’s alias. Make it believable and something she can remember. You know what men like this might ask her, and I need her to be prepared and consistent with her answers. I will give you what we know about the victims, and you can search for similarities.”

  Christian seemed satisfied with that answer.

  “Any questions?” Viktor asked.

  I sprang to my feet. “When do we start?”

  “Soon. Everyone except you and Niko can join me for breakfast. I need you sharp, and Niko will work with you. Break only as needed—we have no time to waste.” He turned his attention to Niko. “Teach her what she does not know. Without weapons, Raven must learn to control every situation.”

  Niko bowed.

  Holding a hand over my rumbling stomach, I asked, “Can I at least have a bowl of cereal?”

  “Food will make you slow and lazy. You must know how to defend yourself in a club without killing anyone or using your Vampire skills. But I also cannot see into the future. It is not my desire for you to fight in a cage match, but if that happens, I want you prepared.”

  Everyone got up and shuffled toward the door.

  Claude yawned noisily. “I need to call my salon and rearrange my appointments. Any idea how long this will last?”

  Viktor fell into step beside him. “That may not be necessary. You will spend nights at the club. If you have any important clients, you might be able to work them in during the daytime or reassign to someone else on your staff. I do not want you jeopardizing your relationships with important clientele. We rely on them for inside information. But do not drive your Porsche while on assignment. It’s too flashy and will not match your job.”

  I pulled off my socks and tossed them aside. “Well, Niko. Guess it’s just you and me.”

  “And me.” Christian closed the door behind Viktor and joined us.

  I stretched my arms over my head to loosen the muscles. “No Vamps allowed.”

  “Don’t be daft. Niko can’t rile you up like I can.”

  “And why would I need someone to piss me off while training?”

  “Vampires tend to show their fangs when angry, and the only way to suppress natural instinct is to control your emotions. We need to make sure you can keep your wee little fangs where they belong.” He sat down on the weight bench. “Just take a gander at those hideous sweatpants you’re always wearing. You’ll never pull this off dressed like a panhandler. Do you also plan on packing your enormous knickers? I’m sure that’ll have the lads wagging their tongues.”

  “You don’t push my buttons, Poe. That’s one thing you’ve never been able to do.”

  “Aye.” He splayed the fingers on his left hand and looked at his ring. “Too bad your da can’t say the same. Isn’t that one a pathetic excuse for a human? That morose bastard is wasting his life away in a dingy chair, hobbling around like a lame horse. Someone should put him out of his misery.”

  My fangs punched out.

  Christian gave me a sardonic smile. “Ah. There they are.” Then he looked over at Niko, who had just removed his shirt. “Looks like we have a lot of work to do.”

  Chapter 4

  I’d never been in Blue’s bedroom. Even before Kira came along, when we rotated laundry duties, everyone left their hampers or dirty clothes outside the bedroom door. There hadn’t been as many rules in the early days—before my arrival—but now most of us valued our privacy. So showing up uninvited left me with mixed feelings. We didn’t have a close relationship, but I wanted to make sure she was okay about guarding me on this assignment.

  When I tapped a glass of lemonade on the door, it sloshed on my arm. “Bad idea,” I muttered, but I was barefoot and my other hand was full.

  “Who’s there?” Blue called out.

  “It’s Raven. I brought lunch.”

  “Just leave it outside the door.”

  Viktor had ordered me to take short breaks, but this detour wasn’t about feeding Blue. The peace offering was a way inside her room. Blue’s door had a lever instead of a knob, so I pushed down on it with my wrist and let the door
swing open.

  The first thing I saw was Blue’s reflection in a full-length floor mirror to my left. Her fingers traced the deep scars through her unbuttoned blue flannel shirt.

  When she saw the door moving, she whirled around. “I said to leave it outside.”

  I thought she might try to cover herself up, but Blue kept her arms stiffly at her sides and closed the distance between us.

  My throat felt as dry as the Sahara. Maintaining eye contact, I pretended not to notice her scars. It was as if a giant monster had raked its claws over her body in a downward, diagonal slant. Because the lion had mauled her falcon, the marks were large and spread apart. One long gash traveled from her left shoulder to her right breast, but because of her bra, I couldn’t see the full extent of what I already knew. Another started between her breasts, and a third cut across her belly. From what I remembered, she also had one even lower than I could see.

  I stood there like an idiot, holding a plate and glass.

  Blue heaved a sigh and took her lunch. “Go ahead and look. There’s no point pretending they don’t exist.”

  Ignoring the obvious was futile, so I broke eye contact and slid my gaze down to the grotesque trails that navigated over the valleys and mountainous terrain of her body. “They look better,” I said truthfully. The last time I’d seen them, they were open and bleeding.

  Blue gave me a curt look and marched over to a table in the right-hand corner. She had a small desk similar to mine. In fact, all her furniture was nearly identical—just a different layout. Located on the second floor, her square room sat on the west side of the mansion, giving her two windows on the northwest adjoining walls. Opposite the door was a black armoire, and her bed was located in the northeast corner, a dreamcatcher pinned above the headboard. The fireplace on the east wall got plenty of use judging by the soot sprinkled about the hearth. But it seemed strange that she didn’t have her bed closer to it or at least a chair. Watching the flames could be therapeutic, but maybe her therapy was flying around the property.

  With her shirt still unbuttoned, she took a seat in the desk chair and ate her grilled cheese. It was the same sandwich I’d often made for my father—a little mayonnaise on both sides, a pinch of sugar, and Texas toast.

  “I’ve been in the gym all morning,” I began. “When I went upstairs to get a drink around noon, Wyatt said you didn’t show up for breakfast or lunch.” I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. “I feel shitty about the whole thing. You should be the one working inside the club, not Claude.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said matter-of-factly. “I just need to get over it.”

  “Anyhow, I thought I’d bring a peace offering. My dad used to love ’em.”

  Blue held out half her sandwich. “Do you want some?”

  I fanned my shirt, still cooling down from the fight maneuvers I’d been practicing all morning. “I can’t eat. Viktor thinks it’ll slow me down.”

  After another bite, she set down her sandwich and angled her chair toward me. “Hunger motivates a person. Viktor’s always right.”

  Silence blanketed the room. My gaze again fell to her scars through her open shirt.

  “It really doesn’t look as bad as it did before,” I heard myself say. I cringed inwardly and chose to elaborate. “The ointment Shepherd used must have helped. At least the skin closed up.”

  Blue touched her grey feather earring and stared at the wall. “I’m a monster. Had this never happened, Viktor would have put me in the club. Claude will have your back, but he’s not a woman. I would have been able to get workers and customers to confide in me. No matter how you slice it, these scars are a hindrance.”

  “Don’t take it personally. We all have physical traits that eliminate us from certain jobs. Christian can’t even go into the club.”

  Blue played with a small pocket on her right thigh. “I guess.”

  “Why do you like pants with so many pockets?” I asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

  Daytime Blue had a particular style that was different from nighttime Blue. She loved knee-high boots with dark jeans but also wore cargo pants and combat-style boots. Not the heavy ones with chunky soles, but the ones that were feminine and ideal for running.

  She opened one of the pockets and pulled out a thin wallet. “Who needs a purse to lug around when I’ve got these? Hands-free. If I’m chasing someone with an axe, I don’t have time to worry about who’s going to hold my purse.”

  I chuckled softly. “That’s pretty smart. Maybe I should rethink my wardrobe.”

  Blue didn’t seem especially hungry, but she finished her sandwich.

  I drifted over and leaned against the edge of her desk. “I know what you’re going through right now.”

  Blue swallowed her bite and dusted off her fingers. “I doubt that.”

  “Remember when I was sold to my Creator? That really messed with my head. I didn’t want to take any time off or show my emotions to anyone. I was afraid Viktor might think I wasn’t cut out for this job anymore.” I folded my arms and stared at the bright windows. “Viktor’s not trying to shield you from getting your feelings hurt. Put yourself in his shoes. He needs a Mage, and he also needs a second person who won’t stand out or distract customers—for any reason.”

  She hooked one arm over the back of her chair. “We’re trying to bait someone who runs cage fights. Wouldn’t a scarred woman be a sign of a warrior?”

  “There’s a stigma, and you know it.”

  “Thank the fates I don’t care about stigma. Don’t you find it infuriating? Scarred men are warriors. Scarred women are victims.”

  “Smart people know the truth.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s always going to hold me back.”

  I lowered my head. Even though I wanted to make her feel better, there was no denying that her altered appearance would change everything. “I’m sorry.”

  My external scars were miniscule in comparison. I had marks from an old Chitah bite on my hip, but my Keystone tattoo covered the ugliest part of it. While Blue expressed concern that her scars would ruin her career, it ran deeper than that. She was still a knockout, but her life hadn’t gone back to normal, even around the house. Wyatt didn’t ogle her body like he used to. At least, not for the same reasons. The world would treat her differently. Men would treat her differently. She’d never liked the attention, but now she had to deal with a different kind of attention.

  Blue stood and crossed the room. Her button-up dropped to the floor, and she reached inside the armoire and chose a sleeveless black shirt with a high neck. It was formfitting and accentuated her full breasts, yet it cloaked her scars. Then she turned around and put her hands on her hips, making the point that she could have rocked a sexy look on this mission. The scar on her shoulder was visible, but she easily covered that with her long brown hair.

  I heaved a sigh. “If what you’re wearing is considered too much for a club like this, what the hell am I going to be wearing?”

  “Shy?”

  I snuck a bite of her sandwich. “You’ve seen my wardrobe. A short black dress is about as sexy as I get. And how am I supposed to put up with lewd remarks and people leering at me without getting pissed off and showing my fangs?”

  Blue returned to her seat and sipped her lemonade. “Christian didn’t have any advice? He always keeps his cool.”

  I gave her a mirthless smile. “He spent all morning teaching me how to control my anger.”

  “And?”

  I pushed off the desk and headed toward the door. “If you find a stake in his chest tomorrow morning, it wasn’t me.”

  Christian propped his elbows on the booth table and watched Niko eat his ham sandwich. On the heels of a new assignment, everyone else must have cut their lunch short to get back to their duties. When he, Raven, and Niko had emerged from the gym for their afternoon break, Wyatt was the only person left in the dining room. He’d briefly chatted with them before heading upstairs with an e
nergy drink in his hand. Niko made himself a plate while Kira cleared the table. What a strange lass. Always consumed with work, her hair pinned up or tied with a kerchief. Servants were common in the world of mortals, but times weren’t as hard as they used to be. Christian had once been a servant, and he’d never choose that life again. It was a humbling position, one that required silence, loyalty, and obedience.

  Raven whooshed out of the kitchen with a plate and glass in hand. “Be right back. I’m taking this up to Blue.”

  Christian noticed a guilty look on her face. According to Wyatt, Blue hadn’t come down all day. She was vexed about the assignment, but Viktor’s options were limited. He couldn’t send Blue into the fire like that. It wouldn’t be fair to Keystone’s mission, and it might traumatize the poor lass if some wanker made crass remarks. Only customers wore latex suits to those clubs. Employees were scantily clad, and there was no way Blue could hide her scars.

  Christian lifted his glass of whiskey and took another sip. This was their first break and chance to eat. Not that Christian ever ate at the table, but he enjoyed a glass of alcohol. Right now he needed it.

  “You shouldn’t feel guilty,” Niko said as he finished his sandwich. “Taunting Raven had to be done. She isn’t like every other Mage, and she must learn to control her Vampire nature. You’re the only one who can mentor her. She didn’t receive that guidance from her maker, so you and I have a role to play.”

  “Aye.” The whiskey slid down Christian’s throat and warmed his belly like fire. “We like to have a go at each other every now and then, but that was torturous.”

  “But necessary.” Niko moved his hand across the table until he found his napkin. “She’s intelligent enough not to take it to heart. Raven isn’t impulsive, but she’s reactive. I’ve watched her light, and most things don’t bother her the way they would others. But everyone has a weak spot, and you need to root that out of her.”

  Christian stared into his glass. He’d certainly learned Raven’s faults. While she brushed off insults left and right, she was fiercely protective of her father. She also didn’t like anyone treating her differently because of her gender, so Christian had used those weaknesses to push her buttons. He could have gone deeper by bringing up Fletcher and attacking her mother’s memory, which would have been unequivocal trigger points, but he couldn’t bring himself to stoop that low.