Stryke (New Vampire Disorder Book 4)

by Marie Johnston

  “Are you walking back or finding a way down to the realm?”

  Zoey was back in her seat before she could think. What if they were successful and they found a way to the underworld? The Synod wouldn’t fault her for saving Melody.

  Or would they? She was human and they would be risking a lot of their team going after a girl who might no longer be alive.

  But then to get back, what would she do? She’d had her true mate. She’d had her demon bond. Stryke said it was one and done.

  Hellfire, did she care if she made it back? She’d be on the run in the underworld…but Stryke was there. Yet he had formed an alliance with Quution and she was no longer his concern.

  “Call it in.” Creed’s hard gaze was pinned to the windshield as he flew to town to look for a host. “But tell Demetrius I’m going. I don’t care what he fucking says.”

  D picked up on the first ring. “Bishop and Fyra are gone. Where are you two?”

  Zoey’s hand tightened around her phone. “We’re going to look for a way into the underworld.”

  “Figures. The Synod’s not going to like you being this active in the field—trying to get into the underworld.”

  Her first thought was, They can suck it. But she said, “I’ll deal with it later. Melody’s a friend.”

  “And you’re working closely with a demon male you were once bonded to. Who’s admitted to killing one of our own.”

  “You heard the story,” she said quietly and gripped the “oh shit” handle as Creed careened around turns without letting up on the gas.

  “I did. I almost believe him, too. But you and Stryke have a helluva convoluted history and you’re rushing after him instead of trusting Bishop and his mate to deal with it.”

  “It’s the underworld, they’re massively outnumbered,” she said tersely.

  “You don’t have to convince me, Zoey. You’re an adult. You’ve been my friend longer than most humans live. Your mate was my friend. Stryke is not my friend, but I trust your gut. You don’t get stupid over males. The Synod may fear it, but I know you.”

  The back of her throat burned as emotion choked her. D had almost driven Bishop away because of Fyra. But here he was declaring Zoey of sound mind and body.

  “But,” Demetrius continued, “I don’t trust Creed not to drop some IQ points over this Melody ordeal. So you stick with him and you both get your asses back in one piece and I’ll back whatever you do.”

  Zoey grinned and then it faltered. Her friend had just put himself out there for her and Creed. His own standing with the Synod could be affected, and he’d almost lost it once already. But he’d throw caution to the wind over and over again for his people.

  She hung up with him and called Ophelia.

  “It’s me,” her friend answered. She almost never answered or replied to messages, but somehow, she seemed to know when she was needed.

  “We need some possessed hosts worthy of being put in the ground. We need a ticket to the underworld.”

  Ophelia was quiet for a heartbeat before she rattled off a few prime names, including Yancy. “They’re off and on as hosts for some of the thirteen. They might have some lackeys hanging around, but they also might be too attention grabbing.”

  “Cross Yancy off that list. Melody staked her.”

  “The chatterbox? Well, then… Rumor has it the primes’ brokers have been hitting up crack houses and lingering around drug dealers for new recruits. I heard Nadair mention the halfway house in downtown Freemont. You’ll find the name in the paper. It just got a huge donation,” Ophelia’s tone went taut, “from Nadair’s family.”

  “Has he been a host yet?” No one knew what Ophelia was doing, other than gathering intel for them. But she’d stuck close to her on-again, off-again lover. Zoey was going to pry as much info as possible as long as she was talking. She trusted Ophelia, though her tactics might raise eyebrows, but she’d been coming out from undercover less and less.

  “He hasn’t hosted…yet.”

  That she knew of. She’d have to sit Ophelia down and catch her up on all the latest.

  Ophelia killed the line after Zoey passed on her thanks. They had reached Freemont and Creed was already weaving through traffic to get to the halfway house. Vampire hearing could be efficient sometimes.

  Tall, glass buildings flashed by. Streetlamps lit up the roads, and traffic was sparse on this side of midnight.

  “Saving Grace.”

  “What?” Zoey glanced at Creed. His profile hadn’t changed.

  “That’s what the place is called. The halfway house. But I don’t know the address. Look it up.”

  She did as he demanded. This side of Creed didn’t often emerge, the bossy, intense warrior. He’d worked so hard to appear aloof and lost in his technology. But this felt more genuine. Like a little of the real Creed had snuck past a long-closed door.

  She rattled off the address and within minutes, Creed parked in a spot about a block away. Square, official buildings lined the street on either side, but smaller, more pedestrian businesses were interspersed. Freemont’s major hospital was only three blocks away, and the law enforcement center and jail were five blocks away in the opposite direction. A prime spot for a halfway house.

  “It’d be faster if we split up to search around the property.” Creed hopped out so fast Zoey had to scramble to keep up with him.

  “No way.”

  He shot her a sharp look and she shook her head.

  “The mindset you’re in, Creed, I don’t trust that’ll you wait for me before you shank the first host you find.” Or that he’d discern whether the host should remain living.

  “I just feel guilty, that’s all.” His features clouded over, his blond brows so low they cast shadows over his blue eyes. Yes, she’d need to stick close to him before he did anything they all regretted.

  They circled the house, but all was quiet for the night. The sunshine-yellow craftsman home, so different than any other architecture around it, seemed to fit in. Like it belonged and the other buildings didn’t.

  “This is fucking pointless,” Creed said as they stomped another circle around the block. “Are you sure Ophelia knew what she was talking about?”

  From the corner of her eye, Zoey detected two shadowy figures. She tapped Creed’s elbow and he glared in her direction. It was his default expression the last two hours. She cocked her head down the street and they both changed direction.

  Sure enough, a woman stumbled along behind a man. He had a firm grip on her arm and a clarity in his eyes the woman lacked.

  “Think he’s possessed?” Creed murmured.

  Zoey inhaled deeply. A trace of brimstone was in the air, but she couldn’t pinpoint which human carried it. “One of ’em is.”

  “Good enough for me.” Creed started for them, but she put a hand on his arm.

  “You know we can’t just kill her.”

  “Your boyfriend didn’t stop and check before he and his brother killed five hosts.” Creed glowered at her, his muscles bunched like he was going to break free of her grip.

  A flare of anger tightened her hold. “The demons inside were trying to kill us and them. And we don’t know whether they were coerced or willing. But I never said I agreed with it. He’s not my boyfriend and he’s not under my control.” Or the Synod’s.

  Why was that such a point in Stryke’s favor?

  He finally relaxed with a quiet sigh. “I promise I won’t kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

  She relinquished his arm and was speared with a moment of alarm when he ambled off in the couple’s direction.

  Cold air numbed Zoey’s nose and fingers. Good thing she had a stash of Gatorade in their ride. The scent of snow lingered in the night as temperatures noticeably plummeted before dawn. Scraps of paper and pop bottles littered the sidewalk, along with a thousand cigarette butts. As they neared the humans, they passed pockets ripe with human urine, a little cat piss, and a whole lotta bird shit.

  The ma
n was casting furtive glances their way and as they grew closer, the woman’s struggle was more apparent.

  “I need to go back,” she whined and shook her head, stringy hair flying. “No. No, I can’t do this.”

  Suddenly, the woman’s head snapped up and she stared straight at Zoey. Her irises had been swallowed up by darkness. “Evening.” She grinned and half her teeth were missing.

  Had to be a meth addict. Zoey crushed her pity, it did no good in a fight. They’d try to save the woman and hope her foray with a demon didn’t kick her back a few steps in her recovery.

  Zoey smiled. “Morning. We’re a little lost. Can you help us out with directions?”

  “No,” the man sneered and tried to walk around them. He kept his gaze downward. Afraid his black eyes would give him away?

  “Where’s the nearest broker?” Creed asked.

  The man froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He made huffing sounds, like he was trying to sniff out their scent but the human’s olfactory senses weren’t equipped with the ability.

  “That’s so weird, Creed,” Zoey said with false wonder. “I’ve never run across a broker who’s possessed himself.”

  The man released the woman and faced them. The lady followed suit, probably stood straighter than she had in years thanks to the second-tier inside her ignoring her aches and pains and debilitating cravings.

  A knowing glint lit the man’s eyes. “Vampires. I thought I smelled waste.” He straightened his threadbare coat. “Yes, well, your kind tends to prefer being behind the scenes.”

  “What’d you promise the human?” Creed asked.

  All right. That was direct, but Zoey waited for the answer.

  The man grinned, displaying even, white teeth. His hair looked vibrant and healthy, and he stood with confidence. He was definitely the slick broker.

  “I only needed to ask. Don’t you just love it when hosts cooperate—”

  Creed withdrew his knife and buried it in the human’s throat mid word.

  The addict snarled and leaped toward Creed, but he shoved her off. Relief washed through Zoey. She flashed behind the woman and wrapped her in a choke hold. She fought, but even with the demon’s help, she couldn’t compare to Zoey’s strength. Once the familiar groaning signaled a portal opening, Zoey thumped her on the head and pushed her as far away as possible.

  She flashed by Creed just in time for him to take her hand and jump into the blackness.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The trip to the underworld was seconds longer and highly more disconcerting than a flash. When Zoey flashed the great distance to the Synod, it only required milliseconds longer than a trip across town and an extra bottle of Gatorade.

  Aw hell. The Gatorade. Well, she had Creed. And Stryke was down here somewhere. She knew without doubt he’d help her—because that’s who he was.

  He’d been listless in the underworld most of his life because he had serious hero tendencies and had been born in the wrong life to help.

  Or had he?

  If Quution was to be trusted with his intentions, then Stryke was the perfect demon for the job.

  The feeling of weightlessness ceased and a dim cave formed around her. Or she formed in the cave.

  “You okay?” Creed asked, rubbing his head.

  She almost chuckled when she realized she was rubbing her own temples. She clocked in to her body—no weakness, the light-headedness was fleeting, and her salt cravings were idling. “I’m good.”

  “Fuck, where are we?”

  Faint torchlight flickered from the hallway, or whatever was outside the opening, but it was enough for her acute eyesight to make out the empty cave they were in. A rectangular slab was attached to the far wall, and a fetid smell emanated from a hole in the ground in the corner. She wanted to gag, wouldn’t be surprised if fumes wafted up from the opening.

  “Is that the shitter?” Creed went over to check. “Uck, yeah. Is this, like, the underworld equivalent to an efficiency apartment?” He turned back to her. His eyes went wide, and his hand landed on the butt of his gun.

  Zoey spun around, ducking at the same time. It was her first mistake. The second-tier they’d driven back down here had his head lowered to spear her with his horns. Unlike Stryke’s warm-chocolate horns, this male’s horns were blood-red with spikes up and down the sides like thorns.

  She flung herself backward, but the spikes caught her across the forehead. Searing pain ignited from the wound. She palmed the knife in her tactical belt and buried it in the male’s gut.

  He roared in pain and dropped to his knees. She withdrew her knife and readied for another blow, but Creed was already next to her, burying his knife to the hilt in the male’s eye. The male dropped.

  Creed wiped his hands off on his pants and eyed the body. “Can they come back from that?”

  “Dunno.” The male was smaller than Stryke, with the typical humanoid form of a second-tier, but not as…pleasing as Stryke’s. He was as naked and pink as the day he was spawned. “What about those bugs Bishop said eat carcasses?”

  “I don’t want to wait around to find out.”

  Zoey ran her forearm over her brow. Dammit, those wounds bled horribly. She squatted down and grabbed the male’s feet and dragged him to the hole in the floor.

  “Good idea. No being would want to come back from that. Leave my dagger in him, though, to make extra sure the bastard stays flushed.”

  Together, they wrestled the body into the latrine.

  Zoey was breathing hard and regretting it by the time they were done. She swiped her forehead again. Her sleeve came away saturated with blood.

  Creed frowned and touched his fingertips to the skin around the wound. “You’re not healing yet. Do you think he had some sort of anti-coagulant?”

  “That’d be my luck.”

  “Totally would.” He used his backup knife to cut the seam by his shoulder, then he ripped his sleeve off and handed it to her.

  She used it first to clear the drops of blood rolling past her brows before tying it across her forehead.

  She glanced at Creed. “Do I look badass?”

  “Like Rambo.” His smile was gone as soon as it had appeared, and he went to inspect the mouth of the cave.

  It was good to have her friend back. Would’ve sucked to have lost him, too.

  Speaking of males she’d lost, time to find Stryke.

  Creed signaled the all clear and they crept into the passageway. According to Bishop, and she could see it was obviously all accurate, the underworld had few identifying features. It was caverns and dirt and tiny roots sticking out of the walls. Torches dotted the underworld system, casting soft light and even more shadows throughout the passageways.

  She let her senses flare. Could she sense Stryke? Melody? She’d been incredibly close to Stryke, had fed from him. Closing her eyes, she listened for an inner thrum, an intuitive suggestion, hell, just an itch on one side of her body.

  Nothing. She blinked her lids open as sadness engulfed her. For months before Stryke had charged into her life and dragged her unconscious body away from a portal, she’d been plagued with a sense of anticipation. Afterward, when her feeling had come to fruition, she’d been confused, upset, and…secure, filled with a sense of rightness and finality that she…dammit, that she absolutely missed.

  “Fuck. I don’t know. This way.” Creed chose to take a right and stalked off.

  Scowling at his back, her frustration with herself swelled. Stuck in the underworld, unable to make a damn decision. This wasn’t her. She’d always been confident and focused. Now, she dithered about whether to take a left or right and the significance of not being able to decide.

  She squared her shoulders and palmed her dagger, afraid the noise of a gun would attract too much unwanted attention. Brimstone clogged her nostrils and she wanted to gag as they walked through intermittent pockets of rotting-garbage stench.

  They approached a fork in the path. Skittering sounds e
choed from one side. Creed ducked into an opening on their left and Zoey slipped in behind him.

  No torches glowed in the cave they’d popped into and they were shrouded in darkness. The scratching grew closer and Zoey could make out garbled words from a rough female voice.

  “She said you were propositioned when you were last in the realm.”

  “She knows not what she speaks,” a male with a high-pitched nasal voice replied.

  The female coughed, or maybe it was a laugh. “That’s true, but she’s been after you for a while.”

  The male’s derisive chuckle was loud in Zoey’s ears as the couple passed in front of their hiding spot. “Lover, she’s after everyone.”

  “True. She is shameless. ’Tis what most males like about her.”

  The voices faded and Zoey was tempted to step out and stare after them. She’d caught a glimpse of bipeds as they’d crossed the opening but couldn’t see much beyond that. Her best assumption was that they were two second-tiers in a committed relationship.

  How odd.

  She’d thought Fyra was an oddity. Then Stryke had come along. And Quution, whose sincerity was yet to be tested. Now, a couple who seemed more concerned about infidelity than cruelty.

  Creed shot her a look with an arched brow like he’d been thinking the same thing. Zoey shrugged and peered out. Clear.

  They resumed their search, pausing at the fork. Another right? Left?

  The couple had left a trail of brimstone musk. Zoey wrinkled her nose. Had they just fucked?

  It was stronger from the left passageway. She and Creed simultaneously readjusted their trajectory to the right. If the two demons hadn’t been worked up about anything, hopefully nothing of interest lay in that direction.

  More of the same greeted them. Frayed roots, torches, stench, and enough sulfur smog to burn her nose hairs.

  How had Stryke maintained his pleasing wood-fire scent surrounded by this smell?

  How would she manage to get a damn thing done thinking about Stryke all the time?

  She was about to brush off her thoughts when a faint electrical sensation thrummed down her spine.