Yeah, they’d helped all right.
The hardest had been seeing the light fade from her eyes, knowing she’d lost the will to live.
“You will not be going to the arena today, Venatorius.”
Surprise filled his gaze.
“Finally. An emotion,” his master chortled with glee.
He stilled, hiding his feelings carefully. “Anyone would find this action surprising, Master. You have been promising my match to the people for weeks. I do not understand.”
“Nor is it your place to do so,” his master snapped. Then he changed his tactic and softened, cupping Venatorius’ cheek with his hand. “I have been asked to stage a private fight instead. A very…profitable fight. Outside the city.”
Venatorius frowned. But curiosity got the better of him. “By whom?”
His master seemed taken aback. “Venatorius? Have I finally clawed my way beneath that skin of yours? Are you curious?”
Forcing himself into his neutral place again, he bowed. “I fight where you tell me to fight, Master. I kill what you tell me to kill. It matters not where or for whom.”
“Good. Then you will go to the baths. This evening’s entertainment must be perfect. Do you understand? Perfect.”
“Yes, Master.”
He turned on his heel and walked away. But his mind flew in a thousand different directions. Something was terribly wrong. No one had the power to disappoint the patrons of the arena and get away with it.
Whoever controlled the games controlled Rome. Even he knew this truth.
All afternoon and all evening, foreboding sat on his heart like a stone. He followed his rituals, but tonight they were edged with an unexpected emotion: fear. Not of death—a slave never feared death—but of the unknown. And when a single litter arrived to take him to his destination, he became even more uneasy. Slaves didn’t ride in litters. They walked.
And his master was nowhere to be seen.
They arrived at an estate several hours outside the city. Venatorius was taken to a small arena built into the ground. To one side of the arena, carved out of the hillside, stood a resting place for the dead. How apt.
A voice entered his head, bidding him enter. Before he even had time to question, his feet moved. Once inside, he found his master submitting to a very pale man, his master’s face a mixture of fear and ecstasy. Blood dripped down his master’s neck, twin rivulets winding down his skin.
At his entry, the man looked up. He licked his lips, then sharp fangs pierced his master’s flesh once again. Horror seared his soul.
The man pushed his master away, and a sharp stab of fear pierced his gut. Only years of training kept Venatorius from allowing this man to see. He put himself in the neutral place and stared back at the man with a faint hint of distaste. Man?
“You wonder about me, but you control your fear. Excellent.”
His heart raced, faster as the man drew closer. “My master said you wished a private fight.”
“He is no longer your master. I am.”
The pulse in his neck skittered. He swallowed hard. “As you wish, Dominus.”
The pale man stepped closer. Venatorius read many years upon his face and a certain kind of boredom that went with those years. He knew the sign well, for he had read the lack of emotion many times on the faces of the rich patrons who purchased his services.
“Come. Follow me.”
They walked into the building he assumed housed the dead. The atrium looked like any rich patron’s atrium, with flowers and couches and a small pool filled with golden fish.
Suddenly, he heard screams. Antonia? Fear shivered down his spine. Still, he lowered his head to acknowledge the change in his status and, more importantly, to hide his emotions. His new master seemed pleased.
“Venatorius. Greatest of all the fighters.” The man lifted his chin with a finger. A cold finger, the kind that sent chills down to the toes. “You know you are going to die, do you not?”
He stared into black eyes showing no warmth, no life. “Death has no hold over a slave, Master. It is a welcome release from bondage.”
“Indeed,” his new master sighed. “Perhaps not as welcome as you might think.”
“Dominus?”
That same cold fingertip trailed along his cheek. He shivered. “You’ve made me curious, slave. Tell me. What do you fear, then?”
“Nothing.”
His answer seemed to surprise the man. “Are you sure of this?”
Venatorius cocked his head, wondering. What game did this new master play? “I am.”
“Why?” he asked, his tone genuinely curious.
“Because I do not care.”
“Very well.”
His new master snapped his fingers. Two soldiers stepped forward in the torchlight. Then they brought in Antonia. She stared at Venatorius, begging for his help. He had none to give.
His new master threw her down onto a couch, where the soldiers held her, then his master leaned over and he bit her neck, blood trickling down to stain the cloth of her shift.
Venatorius hesitated. He didn’t understand. What was this new master? Why was he able to drink blood?
“Can you feel her warmth fade, great warrior? Do you not understand that I take her life inside me?
This time, Venatorius didn’t hesitate. With a roar, he ripped the monster away from the only person who’d ever cared for him. He lifted Antonia in his arms. She opened her eyes. But he was too late. Her gaze forgave him. Then the light dimmed from her eyes.
His cry echoed across the walls of his new prison. Not just a woman who’d given him caring when no one else had, but now there would be no child born of his loins. He set her down onto the marble floor as if she were a treasure. His heart beat faster and faster. His body shook. All the years of holding in his emotions exploded. His hands fisted. His legs coiled. With a great cry, he charged. He didn’t remember the rest. Only the sound of mocking laughter. Seemed he’d pleased his new master after all.
Chapter Fourteen
Several days later when Tori was just finishing her last phlebotomy, when her hands started shaking. Her heart started pounding. A picture filled her head. Mrs. Cantone. Such a sweet, innocent old lady but now with twin puncture wounds and blood dripping down her neck. A man—no, a vampire—with stark features. A thin nose; a long chin; and close-cropped, black hair like Hunter’s. A faint cock to his head which reeked arrogance.
As if he knew she could see him, he grinned.
Tori put the tube into a rack, ripped off her gloves, and bolted. Stacy ran after her. “Tori! What is it?”
No time to explain. He’d put the picture inside her head. Of that, she had no doubt even as she pounded on the elevator button. The doors opened, and she ran through them. They closed as Stacy ran toward her and Tori mouthed, I’m sorry.
He called himself Casperian.
Down to the garage. Running out before the elevator doors stopped moving. The car keys were still in her pocket. The engine growling to life, and tires squealing on concrete. Fingers drumming on the steering wheel, waiting for the main gates to open.
Hunter shouting inside her head. Tori, stop!
Fat chance.
Palisades Interstate. Route 80. Turnpike. Garden State Parkway. Complete focus because she’d never driven this fast in her life before. Tori. Stop. Please.
“Get out of my head!”
Waiting. Holding her breath each time she looked in the rearview mirror. Expecting to see a line of state troopers, lights flashing, sirens blasting. Knowing brave men would be in danger but, coward that she was, wanting the protection. Could a bullet stop a vampire?
Professional opinion? No. Slow one down? Absolutely. Stop a rogue?
Tori opened her mind. Who are you?
Venatorius and I go back an exceptionally long way.
Venatorius?
You call him Hunter.
Adrenaline rushed through her veins. How are you able to communicate with me?
She trembled, then gripped the steering wheel even tighter. If this vampire could put pictures and words into her head from a distance, did it make him more powerful than even Sam?
For a second, fear became the number one hit on her playlist as she decided to play NASCAR. Then a deeper emotion took over. Anger. Red-hot, burning anger. Because the end could never justify the means. Not ever.
Tori hated people who played with other people. She hated people who said one thing but did another. She hated people with ulterior motives who used others for their own benefit. She’d suffered from a man like that. His name was Peter. The other sorrow in her life. The bastard who’d walked out on her right when she’d needed him the most. What an imbecile she’d been —so starry-eyed and in love, she hadn’t seen the real Peter. Then she’d realized it was her car, her money, and her apartment. Because of her second job in a lab.
Funny. Or was it? How had she never seen that in certain ways she’d been just like Hunter? A puppet. A thing. A slave.
Peter. Proposing on the beach during a vacation she’d paid for. Then getting back home and counting the days after her period. Realizing what being pregnant meant and how overjoyed she’d been, only to become confused when Peter hadn’t shared her joy. The complete and utter shock of his reaction creating such emptiness when he’d gotten so angry. He’d started screaming at the top of his lungs, then he’d stared at her in complete disgust. He’d wanted her to take care of the problem right away. He’d wanted her to get rid of the baby.
And that was when she’d realized. No symbiotic relationship here. Peter was and had always been a total and complete parasite. He’d used her to get what he wanted. A free ride. With the side dish of free sex.
What an incredible actor! How had she not known? Then again, as she examined the past, she realized just how he’d trained her. When she’d done something for him, when their world had been about him he’d heaped praise and affection. When she’d contradicted him, when she’d defied him? He’d showed such cold disdain, such drawn out indifference that she’d be forced to give in just to feel warm again.
How could she have been so stupidly innocent? He’d used her and taken everything he’d wanted and discarded her like the piece of garbage he’d thought she was. God, it still hurt, adding to an already unbearable agony. And yet he’d given her the greatest joy she’d ever known, her daughter, Kelly.
Tori glanced in her rearview again. Still no cavalry. Which made her grateful and disappointed, all at the same time. However, by now, Hunter had to be following.
Hunter. Tori thought about how he must have felt, without choice and without hope, simply accepting the unacceptable.
Masters. They were nothing more than overblown bullies believing they held the power. Had Casperian been Hunter’s master? Was this what the vampire had meant by “going back a long way”?
Slaves. Hunter living the unlivable. Fighting back the only way he knew how.
Obviously, this Casperian wanted to hurt Hunter, even after two thousand years. A long time to hold a grudge. Which meant this Casperian was one pissed-off vampire.
And yet, she asked herself, shouldn’t Hunter be the one holding the grudge?
Tori pulled off the parkway, raced through the toll, took corners way too fast, and continued to gun the engine. She ran two red lights and sped down Main Street, turning onto the street for her development. Tires screamed as she pulled into the parking lot for her townhouse. And then it hit her.
Trap!
Of course.
She slammed on the brakes and hit the high beams. He didn’t even try to shade his eyes. Tall, thin, his bearing aristocratic, this was same person as she’d seen in her mind. Casperian had his arm draped casually over Mrs. Cantone’s shoulders.
“Don’t hurt her.”
Whatever are you going to do to stop me, my dear?
All the way down the parkway Tori had believed she was right. She had to believe she was right now. “Power only exists as long as the threat exists.”
He reared back. In surprise, for sure, but Tori almost thought he was going to laugh. No, guffaw. He didn’t. Instead, he stared. Really.
Tori threw the car into Reverse. She began to back up slowly, never taking her gaze off the pair in front of her. Casperian finally let go, and Mrs. Cantone fell to the pavement. Tori prayed she didn’t break anything.
Dense fog rolled in from the ocean, a typical fall night at the shore. She thought about driving toward the marsh, wondering if the sea could hide her.
Thud.
Right on the top of the car. In the time it took to form one thought. Whoever was on the top of her car, he had to be one of Casperian’s men. Tori hit the accelerator really hard.
Thud.
Another vampire. Obviously they were playing with her.
She put the car in Drive and hit the accelerator again. Her tires squealed and rubber burned, then she slammed on the brakes and threw the car back into Reverse. One soldier lost his balance and rolled backward down the hood.
She nearly smiled. “It’s called inertia, fellas.”
The other punched down on the roof, metal screeching as indented. “Uh-oh. Not a bright move, guys. Hunter really likes this car.”
She threw the car into Drive again, swerved and pulled a one-eighty. Defensive driving school—something they wouldn’t know about—and then nothing. She wasn’t moving. They were holding the car. Fine. She let up on the accelerator. Again, they’d forgotten their science. As soon as they let the car down and it touched ground, Tori hit the gas. Tires squealed once more as rubber hit the pavement, and the car shot forward. One of them must’ve realized she might get away and ran in front of the car.
God, they could move fast.
Tori didn’t stop. Wasn’t going to.
The soldier jumped out of the way at the last second. The car bumper caught his leg as she sped by. Tori could almost feel the crack as his leg shattered. He cried out, then he was shouting curses.
One down. For a minute anyway.
She punched it, tires continuing to scream as she pulled back onto Main Street. The diner. The police station. Innocent lives. But she had no choice.
Do you really think human guns will stop me?
She tore into the lot, slammed on the brakes, threw the car in Park, jumped out, and ran into the police station.
“Jeez, Doc. Where’s the fire? You okay?” Sergeant Wilkes asked, frowning, his features filled with concern.
“Someone’s following me. They were in my parking lot. Three men. My neighbor…she’s over seventy.”
Those words were all she had to say. Sergeant Wilkes got on dispatch. Pronto. “Dispatch. Seargeant Wilkes. Ten-ten in progress. Oceanview Estates. Herbask. You copy?”
“Herbask is en route. ETA two minutes.”
“Three men,” Tori gasped, her heart hammering. She closed her fingers into fists to stop them from shaking.
“Elderly female versus three males,” the sergeant continued. “In the parking lot. Dispatch, send EMS.”
“Got it.” The sergeant repeated what she’d said, then let go of the radio. “Who are they, and are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, but Mrs. Cantone… I had to draw them off. Some kind of gang. I had to get them away from her. Once you see my car, you’ll understand.”
He nodded. And then it hit her. “Shit!”
Sergeant Wilkes stared. “What’s wrong, Doc? Sounds like you did the right thing.”
Hunter. Stay away! He’s using me as bait.
Did you think I didn’t know? Do I look like a fool?
Where are you?
“Here.”
Tori looked up, never more grateful to see anyone in her entire life. But Hunter ignored her. “Sergeant Wilkes? My name is Hunter Pierce.”
Tori couldn’t help herself. She ran into his arms. They banded around her, and her whole body shook. His cheek rested on top of her head
for a moment, then he gently pushed her away. “My car is outside. Here’s my license and registration. My people have already contacted Mrs. Cantone. She’s fine and resting comfortably in her home.”
“Your people?”
“I’m in private security, Sergeant. Elena DeArenas from the governor’s office asked me to look into gang-related incidents in this area. I’m afraid I, uh, ruffled a few feathers, so to speak. The leader of this gang knew the doctor and I are dating, and they seem to have sent me a warning.”
The dispatch radio barked. “This is Herbask. We’re at Oceanview. Bunch of suits and SUVs all over the place. No gang members in the area. You want us to stay?”
The sergeant handed Hunter back his identification. “Seems you have things under control.” Then he sighed and said to the officer, “Herbask. Wilkes. Make a few extra rounds tonight. Make sure they don’t come back.”
“My people will still be there.”
“Appreciate the help. Would’ve been nice if someone had let me know you guys were down here though. You know?”
“Indeed, Sergeant. But you must understand, the fewer people who knew, the less chance someone would have finding out the truth. And you’ve already seen the consequences.”
Tori watched Sergeant Wilkes nod. “However,” Hunter continued, “now that you know, I trust you’ll forget about our visit? After all, I’m supposed to be undercover.”
“Not sure how you’re gonna be incognito now with all the ruckus,” the police officer muttered. Then, he seemed to pause and agreed. “Gotcha. Sure. No problem.” Sergeant Wilkes looked over at her. “You sure you’re okay, Doc?”
Tori wondered. Did vampires have the ability to plant suggestions too? “I’m fine now, Sarge. Thanks.”
“Thank you for all of your help,” Hunter echoed. “I’ll be sure to mention your cooperation.”
Wilkes preened. “No problem. Thanks. ’Night.”
Hunter grabbed her arm and pulled. He squeezed until he nearly cut off the blood flow, not to mention the pain. “You’re hurting me.”
Honorable Rogue Page 11