Raising Innocence: A Rylee Adamson Novel (Book 3)

by Mayer, Shannon

  It briefly crossed my mind that every time I ran into Faris, or more accurately, he ran into me, I was less afraid of him. That probably wasn’t a good thing, I was getting comfortable with the vampire. No, definitely not a good thing at all.

  He continued to hold my hand, and softened his voice. “I need your help, Rylee. You saw my memory. You see what I’m up against. I want to keep the vampire nation as it is. Out of sight. As it should be.”

  I pulled at my hand, but he only tightened his grip. “Yeah, I saw what you saw. But memories can be tricky. It’s all about perception.”

  “And what is your perception of me?” One finger trailed along the top of my hand, down around to the underside of my wrist and back up again.

  I refused to acknowledge the more than pleasant tingle it gave me. Fucking refused.

  It took everything I had to keep my heart rate under control. “That you are a master manipulator. Like all vampires.”

  His eyebrows went up. “All vampires? And how many of us have you met?”

  I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, it’s the same thing as any other species in the supernatural world. We have our quirks, each of us. Vampires are manipulators, that’s a given. It’s how I’d Track them if I had to.”

  Faris’ eyes narrowed. “How enlightening.”

  Oh shit, I should never have opened my big fat mouth. Faris hadn’t known I could Track more than individuals. I shook my head in an effort to cover my big ass blunder. “Just pointing out the obvious.” But my heart betrayed me, thrumming like it was in a freaking rock band.

  The vampire smiled at me. “I’m glad Jack Feen is teaching you. I need you at your best. Which, I suppose, must mean that I need to heal up that nasty bite for you.”

  Before I could protest, his free hand slipped around my waist, covering my hip where the bite was on my physical body. That wasn’t too bad. But the moment his lips covered mine and the little groan of pleasure slipped out of my mouth, horror hit me.

  I was willingly kissing a vampire when I was in love with Liam.

  Faris jerked back as if I’d stung him. “You would think of him, while I kiss you?”

  The rage was not expected. Nor was what he said next as he strode away into the darkness.

  “She is mine, wolf. One way or another. Rylee is mine.”

  20

  I shot straight up, gasping for air as if I’d been—

  Pamela grabbed me in a fierce hug. “You weren’t breathing, there was so much blood.”

  Everything around me moved as if on high speed, people rushing, paper crinkling, all my senses were in overdrive. The scent of blood and rot overwhelmed my nose and I covered my face. I knew I had to get up and move, this was—

  I was standing. How the hell had that happened? Chills swept through me and the taste of Faris’ kiss trickled through my mouth. Fuck, he’d imprinted me.

  Pamela was talking to me, tugging on my arm, Alex stared at me, his eyes wide and worried. All I could hear was the beat of their respective hearts. Pamela’s was wild and erratic in her fear, Alex’s beat slow as his body continued to heal as best it could.

  “Just give me a minute,” I said, waving them off. The zombie situation was more or less under control; however long I’d been out had been enough for the cops to get their asses in gear.

  It took an effort to walk slowly, to make my legs move at a normal pace. From what I understood, this would last a short time—how short I didn’t know for sure. And then it would fade and I’d be back to my regular self, whenever the hell that was going to be.

  The bathroom was empty but for one zombie who I promptly slid my sword through, removing its head with a slurping pop. I leaned against the sink and stared into the mirror, watching my breath fog it up. My eyes were still my own, a swirl of chocolate, emerald and gold.

  Imprinting was how vampires bound their subjects to them. Blood on blood was how it was done, and it was the first step in making someone a vampire. Which meant the vampire’s bite was like a poison, something my Immunity blocked. As I stared into the mirror, my hearing settled down, the smells I shouldn’t have been able to smell faded.

  Fuck me, I’d thought I was in trouble for a minute. I pulled the edge of my shirt down and traced the black snowflake etched into my skin on my chest bone. Demon venom had nearly done me in, the first time my Immunity hadn’t protected me completely. Mind you, I’d been able to keep the world from spiralling into an ice age, so I suppose that was something. But the thought that my Immunity wasn’t up to snuff again . . . I wasn’t sure I liked that. So it was a relief to feel the imprinting fade and slowly slough off.

  Letting out a deep, shaky breath, I turned and made my way back to the main room. Pamela and Alex sat where my desk had been. The whole place looked like a typhoon had ripped through, followed by a Giant on a mating quest. Nothing was left untouched, people included.

  There were a few officers that had been bitten, and I could see it in their faces, the fear that they would be turned into zombies.

  “Oh, get the fuck over it,” I snapped. “You watch too many stupid B-rated movies and you think you understand the supernatural? Fuck. You have to be DEAD to become a zombie.”

  I shook my head as I walked through the room. “What a bunch of idiots.” I looked over the different zombies. Male, female, the only thing was there were no kids, just adults. All of them were way far gone, like they’d been zombies for a long time. Maybe the Necromancer was hoarding zombies. I gave a full body shiver at the thought.

  On the far side of the room the one who’d grabbed and bitten me was still twitching; they’d do that for hours even with their heads lopped off. Kind of like chickens.

  I put a hand on Pamela’s shoulder. “You did good. Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Yes, but . . . I heard the police. They said that these were people once.”

  My eyes closed of their own volition as I tried to put this as delicately as possible. She was, after all, a kid still.

  “Yeah, once. But not anymore. Whatever made them human fled when they died and then were raised by the Necromancer.”

  Her blonde eyebrows dipped in consternation. “You mean it’s okay to kill them?”

  “Yup. I’m going to encourage it. It’s good practice.” I was about to do something that any parent organization, foster care system, and every god damn therapist would have been screaming about. I slid my sword from its sheath off my back.

  “Here, take this.” I handed it to Pamela, who took it awkwardly, her eyes widening.

  “What do I need this for?”

  I pulled the other sword, walked over to the closest zombie and did the most basic of slashes, removing its left arm. I lifted my eyes to hers.

  “Practice. Go around, cut off all the limbs and heads you can. Before every slash, check to make sure there is no one close to you.”

  She caught her lower lip in her teeth and I saw her pull her back straight. One day she would be strong enough to live in this world. If I could keep her alive.

  Agent Valley came stomping in about the time that Pamela took off her first limb. With a squeal of excitement, she spun toward me, gore sliding down the blade.

  “I got it!”

  “Good job, now keep going.”

  With a wide smile on her face, she gave me a thumbs up.

  “But keep your mouth shut, zombies taste like shit.”

  Her lips clamped together, but her eyes sparkled. That was just another difference between humans and supernaturals. We thrived on magic, weapons and blood; it was in our essence.

  The FBI agent stood in front of me, and I pointedly ignored him, watching Pamela as she hacked away.

  “She’s making a bigger mess than we need,” he said.

  “She’s got good natural movement. One day she’ll kick my ass with a sword if she keeps up the practice.”

  Agent Valley grabbed my shoulder, his fingers gripping hard, pinching a nerve.

  “Is this a game to you? You ru
n off with one of the officers, kidnap a foster kid while you’re at it, and then to top it off, you piss off some Necromancer so badly he sends a small army to wipe us out via our own basement?” He wasn’t yelling; his voice was soft and intense.

  I gave him my best bitch eyes. “Let go of my arm before I have Pamela remove it for you.” His hand slowly dropped, and I dusted off my shoulder. “It’s not a game. But until you realize that things can’t be done within the confines of your rules, things will seem out of control and I won’t tell you what’s going on.”

  Jaw flexing, that tell-tale vein throbbed along his neck. “You need to catch this bastard. Now.”

  “Are you giving me free rein?”

  Boy, I couldn’t wait to hear his answer.

  He struggled, his facial muscles twitching, hands giving a slight tremor. Finally, he managed to say it. “You have free rein. Take who you need, but make it fast. Interpol isn’t happy with you—”

  “Well, there’s a surprise,” I muttered.

  “And they want you gone. As in yesterday. They think they have enough information to take this guy down themselves.”

  There was a commotion at the door and we stopped talking to stare as Will limped in, aided by his sister.

  “Feels a bit like a bad joke,” I said. “A shape shifter and Druid walk into a police station recently molested by zombies.”

  Agent Valley snorted. “You forgot the part about the witch child hacking off zombie limbs with a sword.”

  I leaned back and laughed. “You have potential, Agent Valley. This is my life. Welcome to it.”

  He stepped closer to me, his face serious. “What do you need to make this happen?”

  Lips tight, I dropped my chin to my chest, thinking. I had the Druid I would need to block the Necromancer’s exit. I had a witch at my back and two shifters that would go with me, regardless of whether or not they were one hundred percent.

  But there was still that niggling piece of doubt in the back of my mind, courtesy of O’Shea. If I’d never worked with him, I never would have started to question the ‘why’ of things. The easy thing to assume was that the Necromancer was a pervert, was using the children’s bodies for things I’d rather not think about. But that didn’t explain the way the house had been set up, as if the kids were well cared for, even in death.

  “Where’s Kyle?”

  Agent Valley looked over his shoulder. “In the back office, pissing his pants the last time I checked.”

  Giving Agent Valley a nod, I strode past him, heading to the office I’d first been interrogated in. Excuse me, introduced to the ‘team.’

  I didn’t knock on the door, just walked right in, startling Kyle. He shot out of his seat, his face pale, eyes so wide they looked like he might have been doing drugs if I didn’t know better.

  “Are the zombies dead?”

  “Yes. Are you done crapping your pants?” I leaned against the table and smiled at him. He blanched even more. Good. He had a long way to go before he got back in my good books. “You need to get on your little computer and pull up some files for me.”

  Kyle nodded rapidly. “Yeah, of course. What do you need?”

  “Brittany Mariana Tolvay. She’s a kid that died a long time ago. Find out if there are any relatives still living, what happened to her, anything you can. And make it snappy, I don’t have all fucking day.”

  He scrambled to the closest computer and within ten seconds his shaking had subsided. I pulled a chair out, sat down, and leaned my head back so I could stare up at the ceiling and let my mind go blank. For just a moment, I wanted to not think about anything.

  It didn’t last long.

  Kyle pushed his chair back with a screech. “Okay, I’ve got her. She has one living relative, but I’m thinking it must be a mistake. Same name as her mother, right down to the date of birth. Year is wrong, of course.”

  I pushed myself to my feet and went over to his computer, staring at the screen.

  Kyle continued to talk, his nerves showing in the rapid fire of his words. “Brittany was killed by influenza, so was her father. Mother survived but went missing within weeks of the kid’s death.” He tapped a few keys and a grainy picture came up of a tall woman, hair pulled back in a severe bun, long dark dress that covered her from her ankles to her chin. “This is her mother. Anne Tolvay. But this is the part that gets creepy.” He tapped a few more keys and a color photo, looked like it was a driver’s licence shot, came up. The same woman now in living color. Her hair was yanked into the same severe bun and her eyes stared straight ahead, a blankness to them that I recognized all too well. I’d seen it more than once on Giselle’s face. Shit, were we dealing with a crazy Necromancer?

  I tapped the screen and the computer hissed at me, the monitor going fuzzy. I stepped back. “Where’s this picture from?”

  Kyle drummed the keys again, fingers flying. “Garden West Home for the Insane.”

  That’s what I was worried about. “Can you pull up her files?”

  He didn’t say yes or no, just got back to work. I knew from experience it wouldn’t take him long.

  The door to the office creaked open; Pamela stuck her head in.

  “Rylee, I think you’d better come out here.”

  “What now?” I grumbled, striding to the door.

  She smiled and giggled, though it was a tad bit nervous. “There’s a Harpy on the roof.”

  21

  The rooftop was solid, at least; it would take Eve’s weight. The Harpy was, to say the least, bedraggled. She was soaked through, her feathers having lost their luster in what must have been a knockdown, drag out flight across the Atlantic to make it here this fast. Alex bounded, the best he could in his injured state, around her.

  “Evie, Evie, Evie!”

  Pamela stood back by the door, her eyes wide with awe. I’d asked her to wait for me there and she hadn’t argued. I couldn’t blame her; a Harpy was nothing to take lightly.

  “Eve, I told you that you didn’t need to come,” I said, throwing my hands into the air. “The case will be over in a matter of hours. What the hell were you thinking?” I wasn’t doing my best imitation of calm, but I couldn’t help it. The last thing I needed was another lost soul to deal with. The case was difficult enough as it was.

  She clacked her beak at me, eyes narrowed. “You are my mentor. I should be with you.”

  I took a breath and held it. I could do this; I could be a mentor.

  Right.

  “How did you make it here so fast?” I asked, looking her over. She was dehydrated, her legs were paler than usual, and the exhaustion all but rolled off her.

  “I flew straight across.”

  My jaw dropped. “Eve, you could have died!”

  “And you could die without my help,” she said, her voice dropping. “You are my family now, you and Alex. No clutch will want me; I have no true training. Not even what Eagle has taught me will be enough for me to stand through the Proving Ceremony.”

  She’d mentioned this ceremony once before, then brushed it off. Apparently, all Harpies had to prove their abilities. Without training from another Harpy, Eve would never survive the ceremony. She was a complete outcast, as was Alex. As was I.

  I scrubbed my hand over my face. “Thank you.”

  Her head snapped up. “Why would you thank me, are you not angry now?”

  “I am angry, but . . . you’re right. Family comes first.”

  The corners of her mouth at the edges of her beak lifted, a Harpy’s version of a smile. “Good. Now, what can I do to help?”

  “Just” —I lifted my hands— “wait here and rest.”

  Again, her eyes narrowed, and my struggle with staying calm lost out. “Eve. You will wait here and rest until I say so. Don’t fuck around with me.”

  The Harpy bobbed her head once. “Fine.”

  “Fine.” I spun on my heel and strode to the door leading to the stairwell, where Pamela was waiting with it propped open. A soft sniffle f
rom behind stopped me cold. Shit, Eve was crying. Again. Who knew a Harpy could be so damn emotional?

  “Eve, I am glad you’re here. Just . . .” I glanced over my shoulder to see her hunched down under an awning on the roof, curling her head underneath her right wing.

  Alex stood between us, his eyes sorrowful. “Evie sad.”

  I made a decision, maybe not the best one, but one that would keep her busy and it might even help. “Eve, as soon as you can, make a circuit of the city. We’re looking for zombies, disturbed graveyards, and O’Shea.”

  Her head snapped up. “O’Shea?”

  I kept my voice even. “Milly has him. So if you see them, keep your distance.”

  “I can go right now—”

  “No, rest first, and then go.”

  Giving me one last bob of her head, no more tears followed, thank the gods.

  Alex, Pamela, and I headed down the stairwell, the echo of our footsteps bouncing wildly around us.

  Kyle met us half way up. “I’ve got the files you wanted.”

  Trotting down the rest of the stairs, I slammed open the stairwell door into the main office and jogged to the office. On screen was Anne Tolvay’s picture again, her file in black and white.

  I read out loud, mostly because I could barely believe what I was seeing.

  “Tolvay believes herself the mother of a child dead over a hundred years ago. Insists that she can raise the dead, has tried to kill several nurses just so she can prove that she has the ability to raise them from the dead.”

  Kyle stepped up beside me. “That’s nothing. Check this out.”

  He moved the mouse and clicked it on the next page.

  “Tolvay escapes after claiming she can save children from death; claims she can keep them alive forever.”

  “Is there anything else?” I asked, my mind reeling with the information.

  “Well, there’s lots in her files, but do you need more?” Kyle made a move as if to show me another page, but he was right. I didn’t really need anything else.

  I waved at him to stop. “No, this is enough. But . . . .”