by Jess Haines
If Royce showed up too close to dawn, the belt would lose its power and I’d be stuck at the vampire’s mercy again. I’d flee if necessary and find someplace to hide during the day, get some rest, then return the next night to fight him. And the next, and the one after that, however long it took to get the job done.
Something told me that was more the belt’s idea than my own.
That didn’t matter to me, though. What did matter was to ensure Sara was safe. I had to get her out of that place. She meant everything to me. If the vampires had hurt her, I would take Jack up on his offer to let me assume the mantle of leader of the hunters and use every resource available to destroy whatever was left of Royce and his people. After all, there were still hundreds— maybe thousands—of the leeches in this state, and they all answered to him. Something needed to be done about that.
With that in mind, I rose, knees popping, to make my way across the street. Cutting between parked cars, I rubbed my cold hands against my legs, every exhalation coming out like a burst of fog in the chill night air. The only illumination, thanks to the heavy clouds above, came from streetlights limned by a fine mist that dampened their radiance to a muted glow. The air was clammy, and many of the branches of the trees lining the street were now bare, scratching against each other like the clawed limbs of the dead.
Fittingly creepy, considering the monsters that lived on this street and how very close it was to Halloween.
I hopped up on the cement wall dividing Royce’s apartment building from the one next to it. A good ten feet off the ground, it afforded privacy on both sides, and was most likely too high for most humans to try to scale. There was too much space on either side for it to be used by anyone normal as a way of breaking in through a window. Though it was narrow, not much wider than one of my feet, it was child’s play for me to navigate. The dark was no deterrent either.
I worked my way about halfway down the side of the building before I found what I was looking for. A drainage pipe—thicker than the usual aluminum crap that most buildings had these days—was bolted to the brick. It looked just strong enough for me to use to climb to the roof.
Light as a cat, I landed in a crouch on the walkway between the wall and the building—and froze as an exterior light turned on.
There was no sound of an alarm or any change in movement inside the building that I could detect, even when straining my senses to the utmost. I waited for a few minutes to see if someone would come out to investigate, but all that happened was the light’s flicking off again after a time. When I stood up, it went on again. A simple motion detector security light. Cheap, and occasionally effective, but nothing I needed to worry about. If there were security cameras set up out here, they’d already caught me, and there wasn’t much I could do about that.
Putting any worries about the light and what it might herald out of my mind, I proceeded to climb up the pipe. Grainy rust or dirt ground under my fingers and palms, and the damp metal was bitterly cold from the rain. The grimy stuff helped my grip, and I moved as swiftly as I dared without risking slipping.
It never failed to creep me out that Royce had somehow gotten permits to hide the windows on the first two floors behind a curtain of bricks. You couldn’t tell from the inside, but out here, I couldn’t help but notice as I climbed past the blocky silhouettes.
His was the only floor that had windows, and they were lovely. Huge, ornate French doors set at intervals, fitted with an automated system of sunlight-blocking shutters, both inside and out. Some of those doors were open, and filmy curtains twitched in the breeze, sucked out into the cool night air. From memory, I knew that priceless works of art were set between those doors, each with its own soft spotlight so you could admire them individually as you made your way across the huge, open expanse leading from the stairwell to his private chambers. Right now there were no lights on inside, which only added to the creepy factor.
I kept going until I reached the roof, hauling myself over the edge and crouching there, listening.
Aside from the usual city sounds—wind rustling the trees, the soft coo of roosting pigeons, the swish of tires on concrete from passing cars somewhere nearby, and the occasional honk or distant siren—there wasn’t anything to be heard. The house slept.
Though I wanted to move silently, the roof must have been fairly recently tarred. My boots made faint crackling noises with every step, and the smell of the stuff burned the insides of my nostrils. My tread was light, but if any of the vampires were alert to intruders, they’d hear me moving around. The smell of tar might also stick to my shoes, making my work with the Amber Kiss moot.
There was a raised structure with a service door to reach the air-conditioning and filtering units a few yards away. I crept along, taking care not to make noise, keeping an eye out for any security cameras I might have to disable. The overhang with the light above the security door could have held any number of traps or security devices.
At first glance, as far as I could tell, there were none. It surprised me, considering how much effort Royce made to protect the entrances below. Surely I couldn’t have been the first person to try coming in this way.
I crouched and leaned forward, tilting my head to examine the overhang above the door more closely. That’s when I spotted what I was looking for. A tiny, shining dot to one side. A pen-like security camera, angled to catch the profile of anyone who might come in or out. The light would help make for a cleaner identification. As I hadn’t stepped under the thing, it hadn’t picked me up.
Simple enough to deal with. Standing on tiptoe, I used one of the stakes to change the angle so it was looking straight ahead—at the other side of the overhang instead of down at me. That type of camera often went overlooked, but it was also laughably easy to change the angle if it was within reach. Then again, maybe Royce was more worried about those who might try to escape through this door rather than attack through it?
Unsurprisingly, the door, when I tried it, was locked. I had no equipment with me to pick it.
I could either kick it in, as it didn’t look to be thick enough to present much of a problem, or shoot out the lock. Either way, it was going to make a lot of noise, and most likely draw every vampire in the building, and perhaps some of the donors and security guards, too. Resigned, I took a step back, and prepared to kick it.
And stumbled when my foot met empty air, the door opening inward just as I lashed out.
Chapter 27
Christoph stood there, holding the door with one hand, a cookie in the other. His shirt was tucked into the pocket of his jeans, his broad, hairy chest gleaming with sweat, and his curly brown hair just as unruly as ever. That weird fetish collar I remembered from last time was still around his neck, too.
Though I’d spoken to him maybe two or three times when I’d stayed here, all I knew about him was that he was Mouse’s plaything and he wasn’t from around here.
He looked me over with minimal interest while I tried to straighten myself, and my clothes, to achieve a semblance of dignity. Stumbling in the door hadn’t exactly been my idea of a grand entrance.
“Hey. Wesley said you were trying to come in this way. There are some fresh cookies in Mouse’s kitchen if you want some. Analie just made them this afternoon.”
I stood there, staring, not quite absorbing what he had said at first. Wesley knowing I was here wasn’t good. Not good at all. Did he also know I was here to fight for Sara’s freedom, and that I planned on killing him if I could?
“Hey, you okay? Come on, get in here. It’s starting to rain again.”
With a start, I did as he said, scooting past him and into the stairwell. They must still think I was allied with Royce. He shut the door behind us and flipped a latch, following me down. My heightened senses were positively prickling with the smell and proximity of Were. The belt was stirring, wanting something to kill.
‘It’s not possible. That man can’t be one. Perhaps another is near?’
Inside Ro
yce’s home? You’ve got to be kidding.
‘There must be. It makes no sense.’
That Christoph was the source of the scent threw me almost as badly as having him open the door to let me inside. The moon was full. But ... he was ... “... how?”
He paused on the stairs, glancing at me. “Huh?”
“You’re ... are you ... ?”
“What?” He lifted an arm to sniff his pits. Made a face. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t have time to shower before I came up here. Wes caught me in the hallway on my way down from the gym and asked me to come get you.”
I snorted laughter, though I put a stop to it as soon as I got ahold of myself. “No, that’s not—I mean—are you a Were?”
I hadn’t quite meant to blurt out such a blunt question, but the belt was prodding at me incessantly, spoiling for a fight.
His expression clouded, and he hooked a finger around the collar, tugging at it. “You didn’t know?”
Shaking my head, I put a hand over where the charm under my shirt made a tiny lump. That funky-looking collar must be magic, like my charm. My necklace was supposed to protect me against the mind games vampires and magi liked to play, though there were some limits and exceptions to its powers. I could see through a mage’s illusions, and lesser vampires couldn’t beguile me with their gazes. Only the most ancient, like Royce, could toy with my mind, and then only with a great deal of effort.
Christoph’s collar must have been enchanted to prevent him from shifting. I’d never known such a thing was possible.
That it was a spiked fetish collar only made it that much more surreal.
‘That’s unfortunate. He won’t be much of a challenge as he is. Maybe we can put him out of his misery later, after we deal with the vampires. ’
I wasn’t sure that was how I wanted to deal with him. For some reason, the belt’s bloodymindedness was getting under my skin. We’ll discuss it after the vampires are taken care of.
‘Whatever. Prude.’
Meanwhile, Christoph rubbed the back of his neck, scratching at the edge of the collar. He was reddening under his tan. “Yeah. I made some stupid mistakes. Royce could have killed me for what I did. It’s not so bad, I guess. Mouse is good to me, and I still have a couple of packmates here.”
Analie and Ashi. Some things about him and the other people in the house were starting to click into place. I’d seen the three together while I was stuck here, waiting for the blood bond Max and then Royce had submitted me to to wear off. I’d never understood until just now why Analie, Ashi and Christoph, all so different in ages, backgrounds and personalities, stuck together like glue.
‘Maybe we’ll get to fight some Weres after all!’
Inwardly, I cringed. I do not need to deal with Weres on top of vampires tonight. Cover’s been blown; this is already going to be hard enough to handle.
Aloud, I said, “That’s good that you have Mouse. She’s nice.”
Nice and deadly.
Christoph brightened, nodding. “Yeah. She’s taken good care of me.” I could only imagine. The thought of what that might mean gave me the heebie-jeebies. “Ashi wasn’t so lucky. He’s with Clarisse now, but nobody wanted to go near him after John bit him. He was kind of an asshole when he first got here, but he’s mellowed out some now that he’s used to the place.”
We were nearing the first floor stairwell by now. He took the lead, holding the door so I could go first.
Royce’s home was just as busy and just as overwhelming as I remembered. I moved forward in a bit of a daze, taking it all in.
Thad and Sebastian were sitting on the bottom steps. Thad was eating one of Analie’s cookies, his elbows propped on his knees, and his arms covered with tattoos. His twin brother—the vampire with the seawater eyes—said something that made both of them laugh. Very nearly in unison, the two noticed I was behind them and waved hello, then scooted aside to give me and Christoph room to get by.
Mouse was standing in the doorway of her apartment, her free hand moving as she signed something. Clarisse, whose Easter basket grass-green eyes were alight with mischief, was chatting animatedly with her. The Irish vampiress turned from Mouse to regard me curiously, sweeping her hip-length, black curls out of her face and giving me a fangy smile.
“Oi, lovey, where’ve you been? We’ve missed you!”
Mouse gave me an enthusiastic wave and a brilliant smile. She mouthed “hello,” then lifted the plate of cookies she was holding in her other hand and tilted her head in question.
I was torn between the desire to pull a stake and wanting to run screaming into the night. The warm welcome, as if I was some close friend or family member just returned after a long absence, was not what I wanted or expected.
Christoph elbowed past me and eagerly grabbed another cookie off the plate Mouse was holding. She beamed up at him and accepted his quick kiss as he leaned down to catch her lips before biting into his cookie, then held the plate out to me. Her thick brown hair, streaked in a few places with gray, was pulled back from her deceptively youthful face in a ponytail. I shook my head, not wanting to take anything from the mute vampire’s hands.
Wesley peered in from the foyer, his pale blue eyes glittering unnaturally. Leah, his donor, was hanging on his arm and whispering something urgently to him. The two of them had always struck me as somewhat incongruous together. He was tall and muscled, his hair short and blond, with a neatly trimmed goatee giving his handsome, angular features a roguish cast. She was short and rather plain, soft-spoken, and almost as much of a nervous wreck as Sara’s sister, Janine.
Wesley hushed Leah and gestured me closer, calling out to Mouse. “Hey, it’s your turn. Take over, will you?”
Mouse shrugged, passing Christoph the plate of cookies (much to his delight), and headed up to take Wesley’s place guarding the front door. I stayed where I was, indecisive, as Wes and Leah approached. Now that they were closer, I could hear what she was saying, her whisper-soft voice stuttering around her request.
“Oh, come on. Please say it, Wes? Just once, for me? Please?”
He gave a long-suffering sigh and cupped her cheeks, looking down into her eyes. “As you wish.”
The girl nearly swooned, I swear. Though after he said that, I could see why. The dread pirate resemblance was positively uncanny. With a giggle, she gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, then rushed off, barely giving me a glance as she passed. He watched her go with a look of bemused tolerance, shaking his head.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he wandered closer to me, no doubt to find out what had finally prompted me to return.
I might as well start somewhere. Facing him, Mouse, and Clarisse all at one time would be suicide—they were all ancient vampires, hundreds of years old, though you couldn’t tell it from their current antics—but it didn’t look like I had much choice. Perhaps if I could take him out first, I’d be in a better position to handle dealing with Mouse and Clarisse.
I was not looking forward to fighting with Mouse. I’d seen her move. She was more proficient with a blade than anyone else I’d ever seen, her soccer mom figure and looks otwithstanding. Outside the movies, I hadn’t thought swordplay like hers was possible. With her inhuman speed added to her skill with a blade, she was like a hellish cross between a whirling dervish and a blender set to purée.
The belt was positively itching to get started.
“Did Mr. Royce know you were coming tonight? Why didn’t you just come in through the front door?”
My fingers twitched as I fought the urge to grab a stake. “No, he didn’t. And I didn’t want to be seen.” I literally had to force myself to clasp my hands in front of me to keep from grabbing a weapon. “Is Sara in the apartment?”
He shook his head, frowning. “No, she’s not here.”
My heart did a flip-flop at that. Wes didn’t seem to notice.
“Where is she?” I asked, doing my best to keep my voice low and level so it wouldn’t come out as a demanding scream.
>
“I don’t know. Mr. Royce didn’t say.”
It felt like my stomach plummeted all the way to the basement. If I’d been walking, I might have fallen over. As it was, I stiffened, losing all sense of balance at his words.
“What?” The word hardly made it out as a whisper. “What did you say?”
Conversation in the hallway died down, the others looking our way, curious. Sensing something was wrong. The silence was so profound, I could hear the sound of a TV coming from somewhere on the second floor, previously unheard over all of the chatter.
They’d done it. They’d done what Royce had promised would never happen. The vampires had hurt Sara. Taken her away. Used her as Royce had intended to use me.
My muscles began to go into spasms of their own accord. Though my first reaction had been sickness and fear for Sara, a righteous anger was quickly burning those lesser emotions away. Wesley stiffened, gauging my reaction with mixed wariness and confusion. Everyone in the hall had fallen silent, watching as I fought and lost an inner battle over whether or not to draw a stake.
The belt won. Wesley’s eyes widened, and he took a single step back as I drew a stake, throwing my head back and arching as I howled a mix of loss, fury, and a righteous need for the hunt.
Much like my battle cry when I had faced Dillon, this sound was never meant to come from a human throat. It rent the air like a physical blade, cutting through the silence and driving the vampires back as if I were chasing them off with crosses and holy water.
It didn’t stop until I ran out of air. And I only waited a moment, getting into position to attack Wesley, who was holding his ears and looking just as stunned as the rest of the vampires in the hallway.
“Jesus, lady,” said Thad from somewhere behind me, “chill the fuck out.”
With a snarl, I launched myself at Wesley, driving the stake forward—directly toward his heart.
Chapter 28
Wesley moved like he’d been expecting the attack. His arm came up to block me, shoving the stake off course and making a play to seize my exposed throat.