“You didn’t have to wait, Julian, I told you that.” She took the sniper rifle from her pack and with careful deliberate movements pulled it apart and stored the pieces. She made a note to clean them later. Normally it was done as soon as she got home, but with Julian hovering, it was best not to remind him of what she'd been out doing.
“And who else is supposed to make sure you're safe while you’re out sniping dangerous creatures all time of the night?” His was voice disapproving.
Dalia closed the door and faced her nephew, one eyebrow lifted in disdain. “I am one of those dangerous creatures. You don’t have to worry about me.” She peeled off her leather vest. Her tank top was soaked with sweat and she looked forward to peeling it off too. She sat on one of the stools situated at her kitchen island and removed her boots. Tossing them down, she stood and gave her worried nephew a kiss on the cheek.
“Ti Ti, one day there will be a monster bigger than you, then what will you do?” He grabbed her arms to halt her escape.
“I’m done for the night. Stop worrying and go home.” She patted his cheek.
His hazel eyes studied hers as he released her arm.
“You should be out doing other things besides worrying over your elderly aunt.” Dalia teased.
He snorted and Dalia breathed out a sigh of relief as he allowed the subject to change. Her nephew was so much like her brother it brought a lump to her throat.
“Is this the same elderly aunt that wears tight leather pants and ass-kicking combat boots?” He smiled. “If I recall, your niece refuses to go to clubs with you anymore because you pull more men than she does.”
Dalia laughed aloud as she thought of Julian’s twin sister. “Well, what can I say?” She crossed the loft to her bathroom.
“On a serious note Tía, how much longer will you do this?” All traces of laughter gone, he held his bag with a white-knuckle grip.
Dalia turned to him, her face equally serious. “I'll stop the day Maksim Pontis does.” She shut the door to the bathroom quietly. Reaching into the shower stall, she turned the water to scalding.
She went out every night watching for Maksim’s goons, following every vampire with the tattoos matching hers. She made sure they weren't taking women off the street and had been doing it for well over twenty years. No one should have to go through what she did. That was her vow when she found out there were others turned vampire unwillingly. She'd spent three years watching Maksim break his weaker victims and torture the ones like her who were strong enough to fight back.
Her nephew worried about her going out every night, but the only alternative was to stay at home and allow the nightmares to consume her. Dalia figured she would rather go down fighting. Staying home would drive her insane. If the voices were any indication though, she was already losing the battle with her sanity.
She stepped into the shower and hissed as the hot water pelted her skin. Adjusting it to a cooler temperature she turned and let the water trail through her hair. It washed through the grime and plastered her curls to her back.
'Dalia, you are being stubborn let us come to you if you would prefer', the male voice cajoled. The deep timbre seduced… pleaded. Her body heated in a way that had nothing to do with the hot water.
“Leave me alone.” Dalia leaned her head against the cool tile. The voices were getting to her. It was only a matter of time before she lost her mind.
'You’re not going crazy, if you would only come meet us we’ll explain.' The female voice implored, impatience tingeing her tone.
“I said stop.” She put her head under the spray hoping to drown the voices.
“Tía? Are you okay?” Her nephew asked, banging on the bathroom door.
Dalia shut off the water and stepped from the water. She wrapped the heavy towel around her slender frame and opened the door.
“I’m fine,” she murmured. “I thought you had to go home.”
“I heard you talking to yourself and just wanted to check on you.” Suspicion narrowed his hazel eyes.
“I’m fine, tell Xavier I said hello and that I'll drop by and see him when I get a chance.” She avoided his glance.
“Mom is starting to get suspicious about why you never come by the house anymore when she's home.” He informed her as he walked to the front door.
“It’s hard to explain why a sixty year old looks twenty seven, don’t you think?” Bitterness colored her tone. “Plastic surgery is not that advanced.”
Julian shrugged. “Thank you for trusting me with your secret, Ti Ti. I'll never betray you.” He stood at the door watching her with that serious look she always associated with him and his dad.
“Don’t worry so much, Julian,” she scolded. “I've actually decided to go home to mom for a couple of weeks. I need the break.”
“That’s great!” He told her, his smile genuine. “The Santiago Apóstol Festival is going on now, right? That should be fun. I wish I hadn’t taken the summer semester now.”
“Yeah, it should be. So tell your father, I won’t see him for a few weeks and that I'll catch up with him when I come back.”
He nodded and left the apartment.
Dalia sighed in the silence that followed his departure. Every year in July, Loíza had a festival for St. James celebrating Loíza’s African and Spanish heritage. It may be just the diversion she needed. If anything, it would be good to visit her mom. She had not seen her in a few months and with her mom pushing eighty she wanted to be sure she saw as much of her as she could.
Dalia nodded to herself, yes, time at home would soothe the hole in her life she was trying to deny. And just maybe the voices would go away.
Chapter 3
BRON MOVED THROUGH THE THRONGS of people gathered in Loíza for the Santiago Apóstol Festival, his eyes scanning every face. The streets were filled with natives, their dark skin matching his and telling of their African ancestry. People wearing colorful costumes and máscaras de vejigante, coconuts masks for which Loíza was known, surrounded Bron on all sides. He pushed down his impatience and focused on his assignment. He'd been searching all day, and exhaustion weighed on him.
“There are way too many people in this plaza,” he mumbled to himself, dodging a reveler wearing one of the large colorful máscaras. Bron sighed, the mask reminded him of his home in Africa, sans the crowd. A hairy hand tapped the top of his head and Bron passed another piece of fruit to his companion.
“I am not complaining, Little Lord Fauntleroy. I'm only saying there are a lot of people in this square.”
The monkey's brown tail touched Bron’s face briefly in agreement. Children stared as he moved through the crowds, his capuchin monkey sitting complacently on his broad shoulders. Little Lord Fauntleroy’s dark brown fur, looked nearly black in the night, his cream-colored shoulders and little pink face fascinated the kids as they reached to pet him. Though Bron walked quickly through the crowd, he stopped every now and again to allow them a small touch. It had been years since Little Lord had the attention and Bron sensed his pet was enjoying himself.
Eyes watchful, he scanned the crowd careful not to focus on any one person. His senses were already on overload from the sheer number of people dancing in the streets, he didn’t want the added burden of their feelings. He was there for a purpose and until he completed it, he would simply tune out the mental onslaught. That was not to say he missed the furtive glances the women in the crowd gave him, he just didn't have time to do anything about them. Bron thought longingly of the last time he had been with a woman, but gave up that train of thought with a wistful sigh. If he had learned anything during his punishment, it was restraint.
'Have you found her?' Bron recognized the touch of their oracle in his mind and he smiled. Zahra became the oracle last year and Bron was glad they found her. She would reunite the lost Aje tribe and end the centuries of punishment he and his brothers had endured. She sent him to Puerto Rico to chase down her latest lead, and to say she was anxious was an understatement.
>
'I have not, Zahra, are you going to ask me every twenty minutes?' He teased her.
'I'm impatient, my bad. I'll let you get back to it.' She told him sheepishly. 'You know you could have left Little Lord here. I would have taken care of him.'
Bron shrugged his shoulders forgetting Zahra couldn’t see the movement. 'We're fine. I thank you for the offer though. Now let me get back to my task'.
He spotted a break in the crowd and rushed to claim a spot next to a cart selling beaded necklaces.
'Have you found the girl?' The voice was gruff, the Ijoye’s impatience clearly coming through the link they shared.
'Ijoye, you and Zahra are probably staring at each other across from the dinner table.' Bron sighed heavily. They lived in the same house, and yet he usually relayed information to them one at a time, it was telling of their tumultuous relationship. The woman he was sent to find was important and he could understand their impatience, but the constant interruptions made it hard to concentrate.
'She is in the other room. Fine, we will strive for more patience.'
'Thank you, that way I won’t have to repeat everything twice.' A glimpse of a familiar tattoo in the crowd caught his attention and Bron tensed. He cut his link with the Ijoye.
“Hold on tight, Little Lord.” His expression was fierce. Most of the crowd parted as he pushed his way through them. He was single-minded in his pursuit; blocking out everything but the familiar tattoo he glimpsed...
There.
He spied the person moving between a restaurant and small house. He frowned. The tattoos covered a very feminine shoulder. There were female Ajo, the tribe's natural enemy, he just was not prepared to engage one in battle while hundreds of people stood around. People tended to intervene when a woman was being attacked. Humans had no way of knowing the vampire like creatures were dangerous regardless of their sex.
Bron sped up, catching up with her behind the restaurant. She turned around and he stared at the beautiful, familiar face.
Well, Hell.
“Dalia?” he whispered, shocked. She was the woman he was sent for, his chance for redemption with the tribe. His mind reeled. To bring an Ajo into the tribe would put him far from the atonement he sought.
It would cause a riot.
Yet, on his mind was not how she would affect the tribe, but the way her sultry eyes held him captivated. The picture he had of her in his mind did nothing to convey the energy that positively crackled around her. He stood stunned by her beauty, missing the booted foot that kicked out and caught him in the stomach.
Little Lord screeched and scrambled from his shoulder as Bron doubled over, more from surprise than pain.
“Stay here,” he ordered his pet and once again gave chase. She was quick, dodging through the crowd and down back streets. She was definitely a native. Bron lost sight of her as she darted in front of traffic and disappeared behind a cantina. He returned to the restaurant aggravated. He dreaded telling the oracle he lost her. He held out his hand for Little Lord and made his way back to the beachfront condo he rented for his stay.
“This stays between us amigo.” No need for everyone to know a female got the drop on him. As it was the monkey's chattering felt mocking and he didn’t like it one bit. The beast in him paced his subconscious and fought to be released. Bron kept a tight lid on it. He had no intentions of losing control.
The woman he sought was Ajo. That changed the entire situation. The Ajo were created with power stolen from his tribe and their goddess, how could she be the chosen one? The Ijoye would have to be told.
He narrowed his eyes and thought of Dalia. Her brown eyes were the color of whiskey, framed by dark lashes. Her oval face was flawless and smooth, unadorned by make-up save her full lips, which were glossy and pink. Her thick dark brown hair flowed down her back in a riot of curls. Bron clenched his hands to stifle the need to feel the texture of her hair. He was intrigued and damned, all by one woman.
DALIA TELEPORTED from the Plaza to the edge of the festivities and walked quickly through the thinning crowd. Her eyes darted to make sure she was unseen. Her steps slowed as she approached Loíza Aldea, one of the oldest neighborhoods in Loiza. She moved between the houses quickly, taking shortcuts she used her whole life.
Dalia kept to the shadows between Doña Pancha and Don Frank’s house, careful not to wake them. The last thing she needed was the neighborhood busy body running to her mom with tales. She may be pushing sixty years on this earth but she still had a healthy dose of fear and respect for the two pillars of the community.
She pushed her hair back from her face and thought of the man that chased her. His voice had been haunting her for the past six months and she couldn’t believe he was here. A shiver ran through her body despite the summer heat. His appearance blew away the mental picture she'd constructed of him. His voice was a wet dream and finally having a face to match that voice would fuel Dalia’s daydreams for weeks to come. Smooth, dark brown skin, tall, muscular frame; his eyes were nearly black, lit with an intensity that seared Dalia. She only got a quick glance at the rest of him but the way his jeans fit assured her that the rest of the package would be equally enticing. She walked to her mother’s house on the edge of the Barrio and entered the small hut without knocking.
She and her brother had both offered to move their mother into a better part of Puerto Rico, but this was where her mom and dad raised their children, where her mom buried her father, so Isabelle would not leave.
“Dalia, hija, is everything okay?” Her mother didn't bother to get up from bed. She was used to her daughter's odd hours.
“Estoy bien, mama,” I’m fine, she told her mother. “Go back to sleep.” She stood silent and listened until her mother’s breathing evened. Satisfied she moved through the back door to the room she had built in her mother’s back yard. The outer appearance was the same as the other huts scattered throughout the neighborhood. No one would guess the walls were reinforced and the room rigged with NASA quality security.
The inside of her room was sparse, only a bed in the corner and a small table with two chairs on the other end. The bathroom tucked into the back of the room was standing room only, housing a narrow shower and separated from the rest of the place by a thin white sheet. No one entered this room so she didn't worry too much about its size or privacy. The indoor ac unit hummed quietly as the door sealed behind her.
She sat in one of the chairs and thought of the man she met tonight. He knew her by name and that did not sit well with Dalia. Her cheeks heated as she thought of how her name sounded rolling from his lips. She shook herself to banish thoughts of him from her mind. It was hard enough getting his voice out of her head, seeing him in person would be no easy image to forget. Who sent him and how did he find her?
Dalia stood intending to hit the shower, even though it was early morning, the heat and moisture in the air plastered her tank top to her skin. Dalia cursed when she realized dawn had crept in while she sat thinking of the stranger. She walked to her bed on wooden legs, the sun sapping her energy and making it hard to get those final three steps. She collapsed on her bed, unable to stop sleep from claiming her.
Chapter 4
BRON STALKED THROUGH THE CROWD, his senses bombarded by the crush of human bodies lining the streets. The parade was in full swing despite it being late evening and emotions ranging from lust to excitement assaulted Bron on all sides. Snatches of conversation floated to him making it hard for him to focus. He'd lived in solitude for too long, filtering the noise was taking more concentration than he imagined. He massaged his temples glad he left Little Lord in their room, it would be one less thing to worry about. Now that he knew what she was, he didn't bother leaving his room until the sun set. He intended to find Dalia tonight and he didn't want any other distractions.
He stopped when he came to the church everyone in town called Espirito Santo; the church was the oldest on the island and many worshippers had passed through its doors. He didn’t know how
he knew, but he felt Dalia’s presence as he walked around the building to the back of the church.
She stood at the back doors, her lovely face torn. She was wearing a white skirt that flowed to her ankles. An occasional breeze molded the skirt to her body showing off curves that made his mouth water. The yellow strapless top she wore displayed her tattoos and Bron found himself longing to trace his fingers along the sweeping lines that represented his goddess’s warning.
He watched her silently; wondering at the battle he could feel her waging within. He sensed she wanted to go in, but she didn’t think she was worthy. A part of him wanted to know more, but didn’t dare intrude on her thoughts. She walked in and Bron waited a few minutes before strolling in behind her. He kept his body still, blending into the shadows of the church. Dalia's steps were determined as she stopped in front of the altar. Lighting two candles she knelt and prayed.
Forgive me for the lives I have taken.
Her thoughts were jumbled, that single prayer the only thing he could pull from her mind. Intrigued, he frowned, edging closer. His beast moved restlessly through his body in alarm, a hint of its power running along Bron's skin.
Her head turned and those haunting eyes stopped him in his tracks. He held up his hands in the air, his eyes never leaving hers, as he fought to keep his curiosity from showing.
“I have not come to fight with you this evening, Dalia.” He lowered his voice so as not to alarm her. Her eyes hardened with his use of her name. Somehow he had made another misstep.
She stood and turned her body to face him. “What have you come for then?”
Her husky voice moved through Bron’s body, leaving a trail of fire. His beast moved again, this time in interest. He could hear the impatience in her voice when she addressed him.
He put his hands down. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
She snorted.
Bron found himself charmed by the sound. “I didn't mean to get on your bad side yesterday.” He tried to lighten the tension.
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