Blood Hunt

by Lucienne Diver

  Fine young men? Was she kidding? Jessica said they’d been a handful even before all of this…but if they’d at least been respectful of women, whether by nature or fear of losing their privileges at the escort services, then maybe Aphrodite had seen them on their best behavior.

  “Er, they may not be quite themselves,” I said politicly.

  At that moment, Apollo’s head snapped up, his attention riveted by someone across the room, over Aphrodite’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “I see someone I have to talk with. We’ll have to continue this another time.”

  Aphrodite gave a pursed-lip pout at the clear dismissal, but Apollo was already moving past. “Later then,” she said, her voice full of promise. “Don’t be such a stranger.”

  I could tell through our link that it wasn’t one of the bloodlust-boys who’d caught Apollo’s attention, and I stood for a second in indecision. I could go after him or I could use the moment of Apollo’s distraction to search for the Roland twins myself. I hesitated, focusing on the call of the blood I’d consumed to the blood still running through Richie’s veins. My prey, it seemed, lay in the same direction Apollo was headed.

  I excused myself from the group and made to follow the path Apollo had opened in the throng when a hand to my wrist pulled me up short. My fists clenched into claws, and I knew the look on my face was anything but friendly as I glanced up ready to fight whoever held me back.

  It was Roman…Eros, pressing something into my palm. He released me before I made an issue out of it and met my glare with a wink and a dimple. “In case things don’t work out with Apollo,” he said. “My personal number is on the back.”

  My mouth fell open, but I bit back a response. There was no time and, really, I didn’t have the words for his cheek.

  I tucked the card down into my bra and kept going in the direction I felt the tug.

  Apollo had stopped beside a doe-eyed brunette with Sandra Bullock’s girl-next-door approachability mixed with Cindy Crawford’s abundance of hair and Julia Roberts’s smile. In other words, Thalia Day…in the flesh. She was smaller than I thought she’d be. Even with her sky-high heels, she only came up to my shoulders. Unlike most of the other starlets, her dress was positively demure in a pale peach fabric with shimmer but no sequins, crystals or bangles. The only embellishment was on the straps that held up the top of the dress and then…as she turned, I saw that all the detail was in the low back with more of the beaded straps crisscrossing.

  I wanted to stop. Oh, how I wanted to stop. I’d been a fangirl of hers ever since Still Waters and Becky with a Brain, which hardly anyone else even remembered.

  As I went to pass, Thalia threw her arms up and cried, “Apollo!”

  She enveloped him in such a hug I felt the smallest little twinge of jealousy. Thalia hugged with her whole body. Her whole heart, it seemed. I’d always wondered if all the warmth that came across on screen could possibly be genuine. Now I knew.

  I was nearly out of her orbit when she spotted me, freezing me in the intensity of her smile like it was a searchlight and I’d been pinned down in my escape. “And you must be Tori!” she said, releasing Apollo and clasping me in a hug every bit as encompassing as the one he’d received.

  I stood frozen in her embrace, anxious to track Richie down before I lost him again, but unable to bust free. Or maybe unwilling. Social conventions were as hard to break as other bonds.

  “Thanks for making him happy,” she whispered in my ear.

  I wobbled just a little bit when she let me go. Star-struck, I had to admit. A little overwhelmed.

  “Yeah, I get that a lot,” she said, at the look on my face. “Don’t worry, it’ll pass!”

  Someone—a small, unobtrusive man with dark hair, a close-cropped beard and an impeccable suit in a room full of tuxes—whispered in her ear, and she said, “Oh!” and smiled around, including everyone in her sweep. “Trevor says they’re opening the doors. I’m just going to pop into the ladies’ room to freshen up. I’ll see you all inside.”

  Suddenly something kicked in my chest so hard, I thought it would burst open. That call, blood to blood, was abruptly more like a sonic boom than a pulse. A combination of the proximity of Richie’s blood and my precog trying to tell me it meant very bad things…as if I might think otherwise. I whipped my head around, trying to spot him, sure he must be right behind me or somewhere close enough to kiss…or kill. Apollo caught my concern through the link and looked around as well.

  “Close now,” I said. “I’m going to follow Thalia to the ladies’ room.” The precog had kicked up at her announcement. Either the danger was to Thalia and I’d be there to protect her or it was to me and maybe I could lead the bloodthirsty brothers off to somewhere isolated and take care of the problem. Richie said he’d be coming for me. Maybe he thought getting me somewhere public would hamstring me. I wouldn’t want to go all gorgon in the face of so many cameras. But he and Ian would be captured on film as well… Of course, if “Richie” wasn’t in control of his own body, maybe the power calling the shots didn’t give a hot damn.

  “Go,” Apollo said. “I’ll keep watch out here.”

  The man in the suit started to usher others toward the door, and I heard Apollo make some excuse, but I was off like a shot in the direction Thalia had gone, cursing that I’d already lost her. The crowd had swallowed up her petite form, and I wasn’t tall enough to see over them.

  My ankle twisted as I swerved suddenly to avoid crashing into a tuxedoed gentleman built like a linebacker.

  “Hey, pretty lady, what’s your hurry,” he asked as I grabbed on to a bicep the size of my head to steady myself.

  I sent him a smile of apology, nearly breaking my neck I had to crane it so high, and released his arm to stumble off. If I could have kicked the shoes off, they’d have been long gone.

  I hit the art deco bathroom door and burst my way through. Inside was…no one. No threat. No battle. No starlet even.

  “Thalia?” I called.

  “Um, yeah,” she said, with an undertone of what the hell in her voice.

  “Just checking,” I said feebly. “Show’s about to start.”

  I started in on the buckle of the sandal on my twisted ankle. When danger struck, I wanted to be ready. It meant leaning temporarily up against the wall for support. If I’d been smart, I would have moved away from the door first, but I’d been so sure everyone else was headed into the theatre…

  The door smashed open, bashing my hip rather than hitting the wall. The blow overbalanced me in my one-footed stance and sent me reeling. I stumbled a few steps until I caught myself on a sink and looked up to see two demonic faces behind me in the mirror. The Roland brothers, suited up like ushers and each leering like a devil on a bottle of diablo sauce.

  I wanted to yell to Thalia to stay where she was, but if they weren’t aware of her already, I wasn’t going to call her to their attention.

  “You boys are in the wrong bathroom,” I said instead, hoping to warn her to stay right where she was.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” one said. I could tell instantly that it was Ian…or whoever was riding along on his soul. The pull of Richie’s blood gave him away. He was the twin closest to the door…between Thalia and escape.

  Worse yet, he was the brother with a wedge in hand, which he kicked into place to jam the door shut and keep out any hope of reinforcements. A blow rocked the door just as he got the wedge into place, and I could hear Apollo calling my name, but I didn’t have a second to respond.

  Ian launched himself, coming at me dead on; Richie rushed me from the left. I dodged right, and my stupid ankle turned beneath me again. I vowed that if Apollo wanted to take me out in public again, he could damn well do it in combat boots. But that wasn’t going to help me now.

  There was only one thing to do—take footing out of the equations. I chanted the spell under my
breath and felt the pleasure-pain of the wings bursting forth, unfurling and stretching in relief at their release from captivity.

  The brothers had pivoted on a dime and were coming at me again, though Ian was a half-beat behind his brother, having checked himself momentarily at the sight of the wings. I flapped them hard, blessing the high ceilings, which gave me the room to launch. I kicked at Richie’s hands, knocking them away as they tried to latch on to my feet and yank me down, then kicked off his head to leverage a blow at his brother, catching him right between the eyes.

  If my wedges had been steel-toed or otherwise weaponized, they have packed more of a punch, but at least his head jerked back with the blow, and his eyes when they latched back on me were not entirely focused. Still, his grasping hands found my ankles and he yanked to pull me out of the air. I kicked hard, but he held on tight. The next thing I knew, he had a grip on my calf and then my thigh, pulling me down hand over hand. My wings beat frantically, but it was no good.

  I cursed myself as a fool. I’d become so reliant on my supernatural arsenal, I’d forgotten the one absolutely mundane weapon I carried. I snapped open my little clutch, grabbed my pepper spray and dropped the rest. Before the contents hit the ground, I had the safety thumbed off on my canister and the stream aimed at Ian’s face. I let loose with a burst, right in his eyes, and he screamed—one part fury and two parts pain.

  He let go to claw at his face, and I kicked off, hoping to gain height before Richie could grab me in his stead. I nearly managed it, but he leapt up and grasped my shoe, twisting and yanking me down, a snarl on his face. Ian stumbled to the sinks and opened the faucets, splashing frantically and cursing at the burning. I knew from experience his face would be on fire.

  I decided screw it and let myself drop like a stone. Richie couldn’t handle the unexpected weight and had to let go. As soon as I touched down on the floor, I grabbed his head in both my hands and head-butted him full force. Pain bloomed, but I’d always been hard-headed, and he was the one to stagger back in pain. I followed up by mashing his instep and letting loose an uppercut to the chin. He wavered but didn’t go down. Tougher than I’d thought. Preternaturally tough, as though he’d gotten something from Set’s talismans besides bad dreams and bloodlust.

  I planted my feet and whirled like a dervish, wings and feet flying, giving added force to the roundhouse kick I planted in his stomach. He grunted and toppled, but I didn’t get to watch the fall. Ian hit me out of nowhere, tackling me at the waist, taking us both down to the floor. My right wing took the brunt of the fall, and I felt something snap between us. The pain flared like a supernova, but I grabbed Ian back, wrapping my arms around him and grabbing one of my wrists with the other hand to secure him tight. Locking him up like I was a human twist-tie.

  “Run!” I yelled to Thalia, while I had both brothers down.

  Apollo, I knew, was on the other side of the door. Maybe security as well. If Thalia could get it open, this could all be over. There was a split second’s worrying delay, and then she burst out of the stall, running for the door.

  Richie twisted like a snake, grabbing for her even in his pain, but he missed, and Thalia came down on the palm of his hand with the heel of her spiky shoe.

  He howled and retracted the hand, cradling it against his body, and that was all I could see before Ian, eyes red and squinted shut with pain and swelling, reached blindly for my face and got a thumb hooked up into my nostril. He jabbed it in, and it hurt like hell, tearing sensitive membranes…and then burning them up with the pepper spray he’d tried to wipe away from his face which had transferred his hands. Immediately, tears filled my own eyes, and my nose welled with something a lot grosser.

  I heard Thalia struggling with the doorstop, and pounding from the other side of the bathroom, which probably wasn’t helping. Richie must have jammed the wedge in good.

  I wanted to help, but Ian was now fighting like the Tasmanian devil on speed. I knew from my experience with Richie that my gorgon glare couldn’t penetrate Ian’s crazy, but still I watched for his pepper-burned eyes to open enough for me to give it a try. The other option was my blood. If I could get it into his bloodstream through one of his already vulnerable membranes, I could turn him to stone, but I didn’t want to do that except as a last resort.

  Just to be ready, I bit down on my cheek and tasted blood. It filled my mouth with a tang. Meanwhile, I squeezed Ian tighter and rolled toward Richie to grab him before he could recover enough to try for Thalia again. But grabbing him meant readjusting my hold on Ian, and it gave him just enough space to reach up between us—groping at my breasts, I thought at first, before I realized it was something that rested against his own chest he was going for.

  Set’s amulet? I knew what the coins did, but had no idea about the amulet.

  In the very next instant, I found out.

  All at once, Thalia got the wedge free with such abruptness that it slid across the floor. The door burst open, spilling in our reinforcements…but the real explosion came from right beside me. Right about chest level. It blasted the entire room, blowing me back against the wall until I hit with such force it seemed I’d crack open. If I’d thought my pain was supernova before, I’d been mistaken. This blast was a world ender.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I woke to a bright light shining in my eyes, and the very first thing I did was flashback to Poltergeist. Hadn’t the creepy medium lady said not to go into the light? I didn’t see that as a problem. Light was pain. I tried to flinch away from it, but someone was holding my eyelids open and maybe even my head in place. Which meant that I still had eyelids and a head and, now that I thought about it, an entire body that seemed made up of more pain.

  “Now follow the light,” someone was saying, but it had become torture. My eyes burned, and regardless of whatever held them open, I squinched them shut so hard my tormentor had to let them go or do me damage.

  My reward was blissful darkness and a downgrading of the pain in my eyes. Everywhere else was still screaming.

  “Okay then,” said the person behind the light—EMT? Paramedic…? “—at least tell me what day it is.”

  I had to think about that, and it scared me. And then…and then I remembered it all. The premiere, the fight, Thalia, the wings…

  Oh gods, Apollo was going to kill me. This whole thing was supposed to lay speculation to rest, not provide incontrovertible proof.

  I tried to move, tried to flap, to see whether they were still in evidence or whether, mercifully, they’d faded with my consciousness, but my body felt flattened, compressed, as if the explosion had crushed me like a soda bottle and I hadn’t expanded back into my regular shape. Since my more dormant gorgon genes had activated, I’d experienced a lot of strange things, including the amazing ability to rebound from just about anything, but it still took some time, and while I recovered, the Roland brothers were getting away.

  My eyes seemed to work anyway. I forced them open again and looked around the room, as much as I could from my prone position knocked flat against the back wall. Knees right in front of me, belonging to whoever had tortured me with the bright light. Other feet over by the doorway. Black shoes, shined but not shiny. Security? Law enforcement? I couldn’t look high enough to find out. No Thalia. Not that I could see.

  “Thalia?” I asked, ignoring his question about the day of the week for my much more pressing concern. My chest ached with the effort to force air up into my vocal chords, and in the end I couldn’t manage very much. The word was barely a whisper.

  “What?” the EMT asked, leaning down, first looking into my eyes and then resting his ear centimeters from my lips.

  “Thalia Day…where?” I ran out of breath and thus sound and waited for a response while I tried to recover from the effort.

  The EMT pulled back again and looked into my eyes. I could tell it was bad. He seemed to be gauging how much I could take, whet
her he dared tell the truth.

  I begged with my eyes.

  “Gone,” he said, as gently as he could.

  I heard the sound of squeaky wheels coming from the entrance into the bathroom and shifted my gaze to see more shoes and a gurney coming at me.

  “This is going to hurt,” said the guy by my side. “We have to get you onto a back board. There’s no telling how much damage there is. And the police are going to want to talk to you, to see what you remember.”

  I shut my eyes again. Gone. Thalia was gone. Somehow I knew he didn’t mean escaped. Like me, she’d still been in the room when Ian had triggered the explosion. Muses weren’t invulnerable. There was no way she could have walked away under her own steam. Which meant the Roland boys had taken her with them. Given their track record for murder and…worse…time was ticking away. We had to find them. Had to save her before they could do their worst.

  The person who’d come in with the gurney—a woman this time I saw, as her face appeared above me, biting her lip in concentration—helped the other EMT get me onto the backboard. I could tell from their movements that my wings weren’t getting in the way, which put at least one worry to rest. They must have vanished on their own once they weren’t needed…or maybe retracted self-protectively at the explosion. So the EMTs made short work of lifting me up onto the gurney and whisking me out through the door.

  Apollo waited in the hallway, held back by security, along with others from the premiere who’d decided the real-life action was more intriguing than that on screen. But the other faces were a blur. I was riveted on his—the fear in his eyes, the pain I felt through our link, which, for all I knew, was a feedback loop of my own. I was almost past the point where I could see him, since the board immobilized me, and I couldn’t have twisted my neck even if it would obey when he pushed his way right past the security guard and ran up beside me, taking my hand even as the female EMT tried to block his way.