Help me!
Oh, for Goddess’s sake. I’m busy!
Eddie was used to ignoring people being irritated at him. He hadn’t survived by showing pride, or giving up. And he knew his Val, knew what she cared about, what to bargain with. He sent her a mental picture of what had happened in the lab.
The answer he got was a mental gasp. And, Get your skinny ass to Fremont Street right now!
That was fine with Eddie. That was where he liked to spend his evenings anyway.
This was not how Haven had expected to spend the evening. He didn’t mind. Martina’s nest could wait. This was still a monster mash. Monsters were monsters, and killing them was what he was good at. But he didn’t like that there were innocent civilians around. It wasn’t just the vampires that were dangerous to the people in the street. Hunting down the vampires could make for some serious collateral damage. He most definitely didn’t want that. He’d killed a few innocents in his time, and made a vow never to do it again.
He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that most of the people on the street weren’t aware they were in danger. The power outage had spooked people, but they were laughing about it as soon as the lights came on. When the monsters started running through the crowd, many assumed that they were costumed performers chasing other actors who were their “victims.” It made much more sense to believe it was all part of some performance art show than to believe the monsters were real. Nobody thought, The vampires are coming! The vampires are coming!
Partly, Haven supposed, because a hunting vampire didn’t look like the popular image of vampires, not even the ones in the Nosferatu movies. There was an animal appearance to what strigoi called the hunting mask. All the better to rend, rip, and tear. When they hunted, they didn’t want to sip your blood and make you into either Mina or Renfrew.
Haven’s real problem was knowing that hunting vampires were damned hard to kill.
He needed help, and not the Nighthawk trio currently patrolling the street. Haven didn’t know what the magic ray was that turned the local vampires lethal, but he didn’t trust it not to hit again. He couldn’t afford to trust that the next time it wouldn’t affect Valentine, Sterling, and even Char.
He moved away from the street, put his back against the wall of a building. He kept his gaze alertly on the action before him when he pulled out his cell phone and pressed a speed-dial number.
“Baker,” he said when his partner picked up on the first ring. “You still want to kill vampires? There’s a party on Fremont Street. Get Santini out of bed, and bring all your equipment. I’ve got stuff in the Jeep, but I have to get to the parking garage. Hurry.”
He put the phone away, and became aware of Char by his side as she stepped out of shadows, still in human form, but her eyes were glowing. She was royally pissed. “What are you doing?” she demanded.
“Calling for reinforcements,” was the simple answer.
“You can’t call in Baker and Santini. The three of you can’t kill real vampires.”
Haven pointed to the crowd. “Somebody has to.”
“We don’t have to kill them,” she insisted.
“Why not?” Sterling asked, appearing on Haven’s other side. The male Nighthawk radiated excitement. He grinned maniacally.
“They’re attacking humans,” Haven pointed out.
“It’s not their fault,” Char argued. “Something changed them. They can’t change back.”
“We don’t know that,” Sterling argued. “Let’s take them out.”
“You sound like you want to hunt for fun.”
“I’m a Nighthawk,” he countered.
“Well, I’m an Enforcer. We have to round them up and keep them safe until they can change back. I do not kill the innocent.”
“The people in the street are innocent,” Haven pointed out. “I defend mortals.”
“You can’t bring Santini and Baker into this.”
“We need the help.”
“I won’t let them kill my people.”
They’d had conversations like this before. Haven had an answer for her. “Vampires aren’t the only supernaturals in town, are they? Bound to be werewolves and fairies, fallens and demons hanging out in Vegas. Think that magic ray didn’t affect them? You need us on patrol.”
“Good point,” Valentine said as she came up, dragging a skinny, scraggly-looking vampire with her. The skinny vampire was hunched over and looked scared to death, but he held an awesomely large rifle clutched to his chest. “This is Eddie,” Valentine said, and patted him on the head. “An old boyfriend.”
Char looked the newcomer over distastefully, and made a face at Valentine. “Yuck,” was her judgment.
“It was the fourteenth century,” Valentine answered. “You had to be there.” She took a quick look at the street. “Talk quick, Eddie. We have work to do.”
Eddie looked around, furtive and frantic. Haven saw that the vampire was dying for the lights, but Eddie was too scared to give in to his addiction. “Duke’s coming,” he said. “Berserk mode. He wants our blood. Wants my blood.”
“What’s he talking about?” Sterling questioned.
Haven had no trouble interpreting what the neon junkie meant. “The Enforcer of the City’s gone off like the other crazy vamps. He’s heading this way.” He focused on Valentine. “You going to stop him? And how are you going to stop more magic from pouring out of that hotel of yours?” Haven had no doubt the origin of the spell that had transformed the monsters was the Silk Road. He didn’t know if the current situation was some part of Martina’s plan, but he was sure something more was coming. He didn’t normally have premonitions, but the reality of impending doom tickled in his mind, and set his skin crawling.
Char put a hand on his arm. “I feel it too,” she whispered to him. “Something wicked this way comes.”
“It’s not my hotel,” Valentine countered. “All right, I own some stock, but I have no idea what’s going on there.”
“Maybe somebody better find out.”
She nodded to Haven. Then she looked at her troops. “All right, boys and girls. Change of plans. Eddie, give Geoffrey the gun. I mean it,” she ordered, and the scraggly vampire reluctantly replied. “Your friends will be here soon, Mr. Haven?” He nodded. “They have any experience in killing vampires?”
“No!” Char protested.
“It’s necessary,” Valentine replied.
“We’ve worked out some drills,” Haven told Valentine.
“Jebel!”
“Hush, Charlotte.”
“But—”
Valentine gave Char a stern look. “Char, you and Geoff have to save the city from Duke. Only Nighthawks are going to be able to take out another Nighthawk. It’s going to take both of you. That’s your job. Do you understand me?”
Char bit her lower lip, and her eyes flashed fury, but she gave a tight nod. “Understood.”
“Good. Now, Haven,” Valentine said, concentrating on him. “I heard you say something about a Jeep.”
“What do you need it for?” Haven asked.
“To stop the next wave of magic, of course. Come along. You and I are going to the Silk Road.”
Haven didn’t know why he didn’t argue with this high-handed woman. He didn’t know why he didn’t question her plans and decisions. He was needed here. He didn’t want to drive her to the hotel. She was already moving away from the other vampires. All he could do was dig out his car keys and hurry after.
Chapter 17
“SO,” GEOFF WONDERED as he and Char proceeded cautiously toward the entrance of the street. “How do you kill a Nighthawk?”
They’d waited for the mortal hunters to show up before starting this little jaunt. Geoff didn’t like the idea of having Haven’s buddies take over Nighthawk duties, but he did like the idea of having a few minutes alone with Char. Besides, Char had insisted that they herd rather than kill. Geoff wondered if the mortals would listen to her, but was happy not to have to han
g around to watch their backs. Finding and containing the Enforcer of the City sounded like it was going to be a lot more fun. Though it was a daunting prospect as well.
He was aware of a large shadow moving in the darkness beyond the casino lights. He was in no hurry to confront this shadow. Not without a plan of some sort first. He almost wished he hadn’t left the heavy-duty rifle behind with Eddie, but the neon junkie had had a fit about needing the protection. Char peered into the night up ahead. Her steps were as slow and cautious as his.
“My personal preference would be to call in Istvan,” was her answer. “He’s the dhamphir. I think he’s the only one with the—equipment—for the job.”
“Balls of steel?” Geoff wondered.
All he’d heard about the Enforcers’ Enforcer was rumors. He’d seen the results of the dhamphir’s work, of course, when the nests were cleaned out in Seattle. There’d been a lot of heart-free bodies lying around. But none of the executed vampires Geoff had seen had been Nighthawks. If the Enforcer of the City had disappeared, it was probable that Istvan was the cause.
“You know this legend personally? More importantly, do you have his cell number?”
“Sort of,” Char answered. “And he was in Chicago the last I heard. Doubt he could make it here in the next few minutes.”
“Too bad. Is he good in bed?”
“What?”
He laughed as she stopped and turned to glare at him. It annoyed him that she always chose not to recognize when he was teasing. “I see you don’t know.”
“Of course not. We do not have sex with our own kind.”
“Which is stupid if you think about it. Not only stupid, but disgusting.”
“Not committing incest is disgusting? You’re sick, Sterling.”
“You liked kissing me.”
“We aren’t talking about that.”
At least she didn’t deny enjoying the kiss. “The point is,” Geoff went on, “sleeping with mortals is what’s wrong. Never mind incest, isn’t our kind’s having sex with a lower form of life what’s really sick? Maybe taking mortal companions is supposed to be some kind of punishment for our original sin. Do you believe we should be punished for some mythological wrongdoing by the first vampires? What’s that got to do with us?”
“This is no time to argue philosophy. Besides, if we don’t take companions, how can we make other vampires?”
“Has anyone tried the old-fashioned method in the last few thousand years?”
“Vampires can’t have babies.”
“But we aren’t vampires. Maybe Nighthawks can reproduce biologically instead of magically.” He took her arm and turned her toward him. “You want to give it a try?”
“I want to kill a Nighthawk tonight,” she said. “And not necessarily Duke.”
Geoff was undeterred by her animosity. “Besides, there wouldn’t be any incest involved.”
Shock radiated from her like sonar waves. “We were both made by Jimmy Bluecorn!”
Jimmy had really made an impression on the girl. “Made vampires by Jimmy,” Geoff clarified. “But not Nighthawks. Jimmy didn’t see you through the change to Nighthawk, now did he?”
“No, but—”
“Valentine is my bloodmother. Fond as I am of her, and hot as she is, I wouldn’t dream of having sex with her. That would be yucky.” Char looked confused, and he could tell that he’d finally said something that had gotten through to her.
“I—” she began.
But the screaming coming toward them with the force of a freight train cut her off. The conversation was abruptly interrupted as the evening’s crisis intruded once more.
Geoff heard the pounding of footsteps under the screams. At least two people were coming toward them. The screaming woman’s fear perfumed the air, and the hunger radiating from the vampire turned the night grim and ugly. Geoff had seen an innocent woman killed by vampires once. There was something inside him that wouldn’t let it happen again.
“The innocent are not strigoi prey,” Char said, plucking the thought from Geoff’s mind.
He and Char shared a quick glance, and then moved to put themselves between the woman and what hunted her. Geoff could smell the sickness of the hunt-changed female that came toward them. Unlike Char, her illness and what had been forced on her didn’t stir any compassion in him.
“Nobody ever gave me a silver knife,” Geoff told Char. “What do I do?”
“Fangs and claws,” she answered, crouching, changing. “Fangs and claws.”
Geoff concentrated on the fangs, the claws all right, not his own, but the ones coming toward him. And on the glowing beast’s eyes full of cunning and hunger. It was a mistake to meet the creature’s eyes.
Hunger flashed between them. Hot desire—for blood, for sex, for meat. “Yours,” Geoff said, the memory of Moira’s death blocking the baser needs that called to him.
The mortal woman between the Nighthawks and the vampire stopped screaming. Geoff didn’t know if she saw him and Char or not. What she did was fall to the ground, and roll, getting out of the way.
The vampire started to lunge after her. Char sprang forward. Geoff was less than a heartbeat behind her. They struck in unison, claws and fangs. It was the vampire’s turn to scream. Char’s claws dug through flesh, and ribs. Geoff came in through the vampire’s spine. Bones cracked loudly. He and Char’s hands closed together around a beating heart. Their gazes met over the body, eyes glowing with hunter’s fire.
After you, Geoff thought at his hunting partner, and loosed his hold.
Char didn’t act the lady. She let him back off from the body. She took the heart out of it, and let the dead creature drop at her feet. It was the sexiest move Geoff had ever seen.
She didn’t eat the heart, but squeezed it hard in her fist. Blood pumped out, staining the sidewalk and walls to either side. It covered Char’s clothes, and she held an arm over her face to keep the blood off her muzzle and out of her eyes. She held on to the heart until it stopped beating, then threw it away in a hard lob that bounced the dead muscle off a wall and into the gutter.
Geoff licked his lips, wanting to taste the hot blood and heart meat, but he understood why Char didn’t consume the prize. The creature had been a neon junkie to begin with, then changed helplessly into hunting form by magic. Why take even a faint risk of infection for a snack?
He wanted to taste her too, to lick the blood off her face, and the black shirt that didn’t show the red stains, and to mate. He loved the way she reacted with merciless instinct when the time came to act. She was a woman of compassion and a stone killer all at once. Damn, that was hot!
Char changed back into human form with such speed that Geoff had trouble following it. Not all that practiced in the transformation, it took him a long moment of hard concentration to change back, and it hurt a little.
“Damn,” he muttered when he had a mouth that could form words again.
He looked around for Char, and saw her starting to kneel by the hunched form of the mortal woman. The woman sat up as Char knelt, and everyone’s attention was drawn to the mortal man dressed in black leather who ran silently up to them from the direction of the chase.
“Della?” the newcomer called. He rushed up to the woman. “Baby, you okay?”
“Santini?” Char asked, jumping to her feet. “Santini?”
“You’re late!” Della shouted, letting Santini help her up. Once on her feet, she smacked him on the shoulder. “That was not how the plan was supposed to go!”
“Got tackled by a fairy—or something,” Santini explained to his angry bride. “Baker had to drive the bastard off with a flamethrower.” He talked as he patted her down, brushed her off. “You’re okay, right? No bites?”
“I’ve been bitten plenty of times,” the former companion reminded her husband. “But not by that loser.” Della turned to look at Geoff and Char. “Thanks.”
Char angrily faced the mortals. “What the hell were you doing? Using Della as ba
it?”
“Yep,” Santini replied. “Second time in the last half hour. Sorry it didn’t come off like clockwork this time, baby.”
Della’s anger at her mate seemed to have passed. She patted his bearded cheek. “At least I’m okay. It’s a good plan.”
“Gotta go,” Santini said to Geoff and Char. “Can’t leave Baker holding the fort.” He took Della’s hand and they started back the way they’d come. “Thanks for the help,” he called as they left.
Geoff looked down at the dead vampire, mind racing. The critter had been set up, trapped. Not a bad idea.
“Bait,” Geoff said thoughtfully. He glanced over his shoulder, into the darkness where the city’s Enforcer wandered, hunted. Geoff could feel the bespelled Nighthawk’s searching hunger. He wasn’t looking for just any victim. The need in Duke was specific. Not for Chinese, or for pizza, but for—
“A Nighthawk,” Char said, grabbing Geoff’s arm. “He wants a Nighthawk.”
Geoff smiled slowly. “We can give him one.”
“Bait,” Char agreed.
“Eddie,” they said together.
Ice flayed the skin off Ben’s back as he crawled out of the cage, but he accepted the pain for the chance to get to freedom. Besides, the vicious cold almost felt good in the rising temperature of the room. It was raining in the room now, and steam was rising. He had to get out. He had to get out now. Rain wasn’t going to save him.
He thought he could save himself. Thought he knew how, when he could think at all—’cause his brain was trying to go away. Animal easier. The longer he was in beast shape, the more beast he became. Smart beast, he told himself. Remember you’re a smart beast. Try to be.
He had to get to Reese. Magic was in Reese. Magic had to die. Reese had to die.
Despite the fear, despite the pain, Ben smiled at that. Hunter’s mask wasn’t made to smile, but the snarl that pulled at his muzzle would do.
He wanted, needed to run once he’d managed to crawl out from under the bottom of the cage. Tough as his skin was, his hands were shredded. Broken claws were growing back, and the regeneration brought nothing but more pain.
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