Stryke (New Vampire Disorder Book 4)

by Marie Johnston

  He scanned the woods. Something had arrived. Birds had gone quiet. He withdrew the phone he borrowed from Lee and sent Zoey a text.

  Look alive. They’re here for you.

  He stuffed the phone back in his pocket and removed his hat to free his horns.

  Crashes from deep in the trees echoed. Stryke shook his head. Idiots.

  He wiggled his fingers and energy danced between the tips. He narrowed his gaze and spotted dark forms darting left and right with a trajectory toward the compound.

  Stryke quit moving. He’d nail them one at a time as they left the tree line to attack the building. Then he’d circle the perimeter and destroy the rest.

  He focused his senses. The air vibrated with demonic energy and Stryke sorted out the waves. Six second-tiers, all in human hosts.

  Wait. He inhaled and tilted his head as if listening to the wind.

  Evil approached. Larger and stronger than the six he detected.

  Hypna.

  He cut off a growl. The demon bitch thought she could get to him through Zoey. Even if he hadn’t bound himself to the vampire, he wouldn’t allow his seed to be used for Hypna’s gain. He wouldn’t bring young into the world to suffer. Not much lit a fire under his ass, but suffering under his mother, then his father, had made him homicidal when it came to those who hurt children.

  A shot rang through the trees and fire lanced his shoulder.

  What the hell? He touched a hand to the area where agony bloomed. Brimstone clouded the air and he looked at his hand. Stained with red.

  Fury built. He’d stalled too long and allowed himself to be shot.

  Baring his fangs, he charged the attacker, sensing him a hundred yards away. Stryke dodged left and right. Let the fuckers try to hit a moving target. Bullets whizzed past him. There was a second shooter standing feet away from the first, and Stryke would take care of him after he ripped the head off the first guy.

  The host’s eyes went wide with fright and he spun to run. Stryke jumped him, and they both tumbled to the ground. The human was more agile than Stryke had anticipated and rolled to his back. Drawing his knees to his chest, the host kicked out. Stryke batted his legs away, but the human flipped to his side and lashed out with another kick. His foot caught Stryke’s chest and Stryke collapsed backward, trying to catch his breath. His shoulder screamed in agony at the contact.

  With a snarl of rage, Stryke lunged and tackled the human. His torso was peppered with fists and elbows, but Stryke gritted his teeth against the pain. He managed to get both hands on him and send a surge of energy into the man’s body to stop his heart.

  “Take that, Hirsh,” he snarled at the second-tier and jogged away to let the underworld reclaim his coworker.

  An itch between his shoulder blades was his only warning. Stryke dove to the ground as another bullet whizzed overhead.

  He glanced up toward the stark, gray building. Three humans were crouched at its base, searching for a way to infiltrate the vampires’ den.

  Stryke stayed low and inched to his left, circling around to attack the second shooter. Meanwhile, the sense that Hypna was getting closer and closer sent a wave of panic through him. An answering wave of energy followed his emotions.

  Wasting no more time, Stryke drew his arm back like he was pitching in a human game of baseball and flung an energy ball in the general direction of the second shooter. An answering yell of pain put a grim smile on his face.

  The ground shook with the second underworld portal opening, but Stryke ignored it and took off to deal with those who had made it to the building.

  More gunshots, larger caliber than the gun used to injure Stryke from the sounds of it. Human yells, laced with the deeper voices of the second-tiers who possessed them, filled the air.

  Stryke grinned again when he realized those shots weren’t coming from the hosts. Of course the vampires wouldn’t leave themselves totally defenseless in the daylight.

  A charcoal sedan sped down the road and skidded to a stop in front of the compound, almost ramming the Double-D’s Consulting sign. More possessed humans spilled out, but Stryke didn’t sense Hypna. She was close, though.

  A giant fireball exploded from the compound’s first-story window. It hit the car, sending it several yards backward. It landed on its wheels but took out two hosts. A massive boom had Stryke covering his ears as the car, toasted by another blast of Fyra’s unnatural fire, flew through the air. More gunshots and snow and dirt flew up where the bullets hit at the feet of the humans running for cover.

  Stryke threw energy balls in their general direction but stayed close to the trees for cover. He didn’t need any vampire—like Creed—deciding it’d be beneficial if Stryke were hit in the crossfire.

  Blood seeped from his wound, which was already closing. Lee would have to sear several steaks to aid in his recovery. Maybe add a few burgers.

  Unless Zoey offered a vein. Stryke’s lust spiked, anticipating the act of taking her vein. The real him, drinking from her.

  It’d been erotic as hell as a passenger in Mitchell’s body, what would it be like—

  “Why the lustful thoughts, Stryke?” a female’s voice purred.

  He whirled around to face a vampire, covered head to toe in black, gauzy fabric. His nostrils flared. Hypna!

  He reached for her. One touch to electrocute the vampire.

  With that damn vampire speed, she clapped a bracelet around his wrist.

  Bile rose in his throat. He knew exactly what it was, had done the same thing to Fyra. He’d gotten a band on her that had been constructed and warded by the Circle to dampen her powers and force her to obey its wielder. But Hypna, the demented demoness, was clever enough not to use a material that could conduct electricity.

  But plastic? He hooked a finger from his other hand under it.

  “No breaking it,” she said quickly. Then ticked each command off with a finger. “No using your energy. No trying to kill me. No trying to get the bracelet off.” She laughed, an evil villain cackle. He was damned with a simple command. A band he could snap with his little finger, but under her compulsion, he couldn’t touch it. “I knew you’d hide in these trees. The prime I chose is strong, and on a cloudy day in the shade of trees, well,” a casual shrug, “you make some things easy even if you aren’t. All creatures in love are predictable enough,” she sneered.

  Anger at himself throbbed through his body. How could he have not considered…any of it? The Circle limited themselves by possessing hosts and not walking the realm in their real forms, yet they found ways to cause more than enough trouble. He’d seriously underestimated her cunning.

  The fight that had raged behind them at the building grew quiet.

  The vampire’s blood-red mouth, visible under the sheer fabric, spread in a malicious smile. “Now, do be a good little servant and go ask to get let in. Oh, and kill Zohana Chevalier and keep the plan a secret.”

  Stryke lurched forward, his body helpless to her commands. He fueled all of his energy into overriding the command, but the power infused into the delicate piece of plastic was too much for him. His energy circled like a caged tiger.

  “And pretend you don’t know a thing about the bracelet,” Hypna called in a honeyed voice.

  ***

  In Creed’s office, Zoey held her radio in one hand and fisted the other in the lightweight fabric of her pajama pants. The only thing she’d taken time to do was twist her hair into a bun as she’d run to find out what was going on. She’d skidded into Creed’s office and watched the monitor of the camera mounted above the main door. Stryke approached with halting steps. Something was wrong. She couldn’t claim to know him, but he’d carried himself with confidence during their time together. Had he been injured? He wore all black, and while Creed had excellent equipment, she couldn’t see much detail.

  He knocked. “May I be allowed inside?” His voice was tight, his mouth in a grimace. Twisting, he scanned around him, his stony glare clinging to one area of the woods. />
  “Subtle, dude,” Creed muttered and aimed another camera in that direction.

  She and Creed leaned close to the screen, squinting, as if it would help them see through the branches.

  A tall figure stood mostly in concealment, flowing black garments hanging off a wide-brimmed hat, but Zoey imagined the figure’s gaze riveted on Stryke.

  “Evil lady didn’t realize black is shit camouflage.” Creed punched some buttons that calibrated the guns they had hidden in panels outside the building. “Tell Fyra to keep her ass inside.”

  Zoey relayed the request into her radio.

  “Got it,” Bishop replied.

  Creed pushed the intercom button to talk to Stryke. “Why do you want in? Are you cold?”

  Stryke’s face contorted. “I’m…injured.”

  Her hand went to her throat. She dropped it to her side. She was not worried about him.

  “Then heal,” Creed replied in the intercom.

  Stryke took a step back, then stepped forward again. He clenched his fists and pulled his lips back in a snarl.

  Odd. It was almost like he was fighting himself.

  Stryke shook himself and craned his neck left and right. His mouth opened. Shut. Opened. Shut.

  Yep. Definitely at war with himself. Or being controlled.

  Zoey sucked in a breath. “Is he wearing jewelry?”

  Creed glanced at her with an arched brow, then understanding dawned. “You think they’re using a control device like they tried with Fyra? Are you sure that’s not just wishful?” At her hard stare, Creed tapped the intercom button. “Hey, lover boy, hold up your hands.”

  Stryke stilled and raised his gaze to the camera. He raised his hands.

  “Nothing.” Creed tapped the camera to zoom in. “Wait. Is that a clear band?”

  “It is!” Rancid anxiety washed through Zoey. Stryke was being compelled. To do what?

  Nothing good for her or her team.

  Creed relayed the information to Demetrius, who was hovering inside in the main door in case he would need to go out and fight.

  “Shoot at the vampire in the woods,” Demetrius said.

  Fyra cut in over the radio. “I’ll throw a fireball her way.”

  “No,” Demetrius said quickly. “We can’t risk a fire in the trees, especially not during the day when we’re helpless to fight it.”

  Creed’s fingers flew over the keyboards. Muffled gunfire could be heard but only because of her sensitive hearing. Zoey watched with morbid fascination as the clothed figure jerked and flinched.

  A faint shout floated through the camera’s microphone. A female. “Stryke, save me.”

  Stryke bared his fangs again, his muscles rigid. From resisting?

  “Now!”

  With a grunt, he pivoted and stormed toward the vampire. Did the mystery vampire host Hypna?

  She grasped Creed’s hand that was controlling the gunfire. The guns stopped. “We need to find out who that prime is.”

  Creed eyed her white-knuckled grip, then her. She snatched her hand back.

  Demetrius broke into the tense silence. “Why’d you stop firing?”

  Creed looked to her to answer.

  “I made Creed stop,” Zoey admitted. She had no good answer otherwise. She was almost positive that Stryke hadn’t been tricking them. Almost.

  Worrying a fang with her tongue, she nicked herself and winced. Way to be hard core. Stryke made it to the downed vampire and tossed the bundle unceremoniously over his shoulder. He stalked in the direction of the road. They were getting away and Zoey and her team couldn’t pursue.

  They watched as Stryke reappeared at the edge of the woods by the entry road and a second SUV sped toward them.

  Creed zoomed in and scribbled down the plate number. “Now to hack the database and get us an address.”

  “Send me all the details.” She breezed out of his office and back to her room.

  Changing into her work clothes, she mentally inventoried what she’d need. An open juice sat on her dresser and she took a long swig.

  A thirty-two-ounce bottle, and it was barely as effective as one drop of Stryke’s blood. Why was demon blood so good for her condition? Would Fyra’s do the same? Zoey couldn’t take the chance. No one knew about her electrolyte deficiency and as much as she adored the fire demon, Fyra spilled secrets almost as often as she left singe marks on the walls.

  Zoey trusted her team, but information like that had a way of spreading. It’d start with safer assignments, then a friendly gesture, like a shipment of Gatorade as a gift. Questions would get asked, and with her position on the Synod already in jeopardy because of Stryke, she couldn’t risk it. She and Demetrius were on the Synod because the strength of the families they came from had gotten them voted “most likely not to be ignored” by other vampires.

  “Zoey, open up,” Demetrius called as he knocked.

  She zipped out to the door, opened it, and went right back to loading her weapons and arranging them on her body.

  His face was drawn, his pale-green eyes tired. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She sensed his concern. He wasn’t physically fatigued, but his concern over her weighed on him and it was no surprise. He took on all their problems as his own.

  “I’m going after him.”

  Demetrius crossed his arms. He was dressed like her, minus all the weapons. It was daytime so they weren’t going anywhere. “To do what?”

  She slammed down a knife she’d been about to strap on her hip. “I can’t solve any of this without him. And…” Hellfire, should she even say the rest? “I can’t let him be used by the Circle. Hypna’s making him do…stuff.”

  That demon bitch touching Stryke made her fangs throb with the urge to rip Hypna’s limbs off. Witnessing him run into gunfire to rescue her, even under compulsion, wasn’t Zoey’s fondest memory. She hadn’t experienced jealously like that since…ever.

  Demetrius gave her a look that said, And that bothers you? “She may not touch him. If they’re still in this realm, she can’t access her venom. If they go back to the underworld, then she might leave him be, sexually at least, since he can’t finish. Torture’s still on the table, I’m sure.”

  “How do you think she’ll torture him?” Zoey shook her head. “Does it matter? He’s going to get hurt because of me.”

  “He’s going to get hurt because he’s a demon.”

  “Would you say the same thing about Fyra? She likes him, that has to mean something.”

  Demetrius rubbed his eyes. “Look, Fyra’s standards are different, we all know that. And Stryke hasn’t proven himself like she has.”

  “Fuck, Demetrius. It’s like you with Mitchell all over again.” Zoey gasped at her outburst and put her hand over her mouth.

  “I had nothing against Mitchell.” Demetrius paused. “But like I said then, he was dedicated to you, not to the mission. I couldn’t know that as soon as you were threatened he’d throw the rest of us under the bus to save you.”

  “How dare you say that?” Zoey crossed to him and shoved a finger in his solid chest. “He died for the cause. You’re still here, spending each day with your lovely mate, while Mitchell’s nothing but ashes.”

  Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she refused to let her dear friend see her cry.

  “Stryke isn’t Mitchell,” Demetrius said softly. “We don’t even know how much of what he says is true. You’ve saved me with your blood and I didn’t taste brimstone like I did when Calli was bonded.”

  “Stryke’s brimstone isn’t overpowering in the first place.” She sounded like a petulant child. Her blood hunger roared back as she recalled his addictive taste.

  A contemplative gleam entered Demetrius’s eyes. “He admitted as much.”

  She shrugged. “Must be an energy thing. But I can’t cut ties with him while he’s in Hypna’s control. She’ll keep coming after us. At least since he’s convinced he’s in love with me, he can help us fight her. Who know
s, maybe he’ll realize that once he’s free, he’s not interested.” Her heart constricted, threatened to cut off her breathing.

  It was the stupid bond. She wasn’t going to risk everything for a demon, no matter how well he kissed.

  “Take Creed.”

  She cut Demetrius a sharp look.

  Demetrius sighed. “Yes, I know about the thing you two had going, but I trust him not to be impulsive as far as the demon’s concerned. Rourke’s going, too, because I need a level head with you two. We get Stryke, we sever the bond, and we get him away from us.”

  “Agreed,” she said before the bonded part of her could argue.

  Chapter Seven

  Zoey peered through night-vision goggles. She was planted in a snowbank, stretched out on her belly, wearing her standard black garb. The cloud cover over the nighttime sky cast shadows over their surroundings, concealing her better than moonlight.

  Unfortunately, none of it would help with infiltrating the prime dwelling she surveyed.

  A stretch of midnight-blue water sat between her and the house.

  A private island. On a lake. Owned by a female named Yancy de Mornay, who had set up no-flashing wards over the entire island. The wards ebbed out over the shoreline and made Zoey’s skin itch.

  One of the things Zoey loved the most about her job was that the primes’ money couldn’t protect them from her and her team. It couldn’t protect them from the Synod. However, money could build an island with the equivalent of a damn moat.

  She stared through the goggles while Creed swore next to her. A hulking, dark monstrosity of a house had been plunked in the middle of the waterlocked landmass. Raggedy trees that had lost their leaves for winter, but wouldn’t look much better with them, filled the perimeter between the building and the water’s edge.

  “How the hell do we get to that?” Creed dropped his goggles but stayed positioned in the snow.

  Rourke shook his head. “We get wet.”

  Zoey had come to the same conclusion. Boats couldn’t sneak up on the place. Cold water was an effective barrier for humans. But for vampires, it’d just be a frigid swim. Slightly less pleasant than lying in snow in the middle of the night. Could she pack a couple of Gatorades to guzzle after the trip? The energy of keeping herself warm, even as a creature who couldn’t be killed by cold, could mortally deplete her. She would come out the other side, lie down for a nap, and not wake up until someone shoved a bleeding wrist in her mouth.