Demon's Kiss

Demon's Kiss Maggie Shayne An immortal love… Even by vampire standards, Reaper is a loner, and his current mission to destroy a gang of rogue bloodsuckers is definitely a one-vamp job. Then fate takes a hand, and before he knows it, he’s surrounded by a ragtag crew of misfit helpers: the newbie, the princess, the shape-shifter and the human healer.Seth is new to immortality, but he’s sharp and strong – and he’ll risk anything for the rogues’ strange female captive, a secretive creature he feels compelled to save. Vixen is confused by the emotions that swirl through her at the sight of her impulsive hero. She only hopes the brutal bloodthirsty renegades will leave her alive long enough to explore them. Or will Reaper himself be the one to destroy them all?A MUST-READ for fans of SHERRILYN KENYON and CHARLAINE HARRIS Multiple New York Times bestseller Maggie Shayne is one of the hottest authors currently writing paranormal romance. Her works are fresh and sexy, carrying the reader into a darkly compelling and fully realised world where vampires are creatures of the heart, not just the night. Also by MAGGIE SHAYNE DEMON’S KISS LOVER’S BITE ANGEL’S PAIN NIGHT’S EDGE (with Charlaine Harris and Barbara Hambly) Demon’s Kiss Maggie Shayne www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk/) Prologue “I need you to kill someone.” Rhiannon stood on the leaf-strewn path where Reaper had agreed to meet her, long hair and longer dress dancing on the night wind, and she wasted no time on preliminaries. As greetings went, it wasn’t the warmest one he had ever received. But it was the most common. “Of course you do,” he replied. “Why else would you have asked me to come?” Her smile was slow. Her eyes held a dangerous glitter. “Normally, of course, I would prefer to do this sort of thing myself,” she told him, moving closer. Her sleek black panther moved beside her, each step slow, sinuous, silent, its head level with her hand, bumping against it every now and then. “But the circumstances forbid it, I’m afraid.” “And what circumstances are those?” Reaper asked, curious. He began walking, remaining close to her, but not touching. He didn’t like touching. The hem of her velvet dress stirred the gold and russet leaves that lined the footpath. It was a trail that wound through a secluded park, high in the hills of Virginia, a wilderness tucked between cities, and a popular route among runners, cyclists, walkers and nature lovers. Right now, though, in the deepest part of the night, the park was deserted. The only sound to be heard was that of the wind, crackling across the few brittle leaves that still clung to the surrounding trees. She didn’t answer him, just kept walking at his side, her fingers scratching the top of Pandora’s huge head every few steps, eliciting a purr from the panther that sounded disturbingly like a growl. Reaper probed more deeply, using a tactic certain to work with the arrogant Rhiannon. He knew her well enough to know how to bait her. She was, after all, his maker. “This rogue you want killed must be the most heinous in history, if he has you too afraid to face him yourself.” She stopped walking and swung her head around, a sharp, swift movement that brought her long raven hair snapping over one side of her face. “I fear no one, my friend. And you know it. I’d like nothing better than to break his bones one by one, while bleeding him in between.” He nodded, knowing she was fully capable of carrying out the threat, and furthermore, would likely enjoy it. “So why call me?” “Because he’s not just a lone wolf, Reaper. He’s the leader of an entire pack of them, a pack who will turn on anyone who threatens their precious alpha male. And as much as I hate to admit it, I’m not a lone wolf, either. Not anymore. I have a mate, Roland. I have friends, family, now. Precious children—important children—are a part of that family.” He lifted his brows. “You speak of the mongrel twins born to the half-breed vampiress they call the Child of Promise.” Her eyes narrowed. “Be very careful when you speak about those children, Reaper. I love them as if they were my own.” He held up a hand, understanding. “I get it. You can’t risk bringing the wrath of a pack of killers down on those…special children. Well, you were right to contact me. I’m the perfect man for the job.” “You sound awfully sure of that,” she said, calmer now. She pushed her hair behind her shoulder and resumed walking, staring upward as she did. He followed her gaze. It was a moonless night, crisp and clear, with stars glittering like ice chips from a cold, black sky. The chill air tasted of apples and smelled of rotting leaves. “You haven’t even heard the details yet, so how can you know?” “Because I am a lone wolf. I have no family or friends to worry about. Nothing is precious to me, and there is no one that I love.” “Liar.” He shot her a look. “It’s the absolute truth.” “Rubbish. There’s the boy.” He averted his eyes, looking anywhere but at her. “What boy?” “Reaper, honestly. The mortal, with the baggy jeans and bad video-game addiction. Seth, isn’t it?” “He’s hardly a boy anymore. And as you’re aware, he’s one of the Chosen. You know perfectly well that we vampires have no choice where those rare humans who possess the Belladonna antigen are concerned. They can be transformed, can become like us. It’s not affection, Rhiannon. We’re compelled to protect them.” “Yes, I do know that. And I also know that for each of us, there is one of them with whom the bond is far stronger. Seth is that one for you.” She stared at him until she made him look back. “You care for him,” she accused. “I care for no one. He’s a nuisance. If I weren’t forced by nature to look after him, I’d stay a thousand miles from him at all times, I promise you that.” She thinned her lips, shook her head. “If that’s true, then I pity you.” “Don’t waste your energy, Rhiannon. I’m an assassin. I was a killer in life, and I remain one in death. It’s what I do.” “And you do it well.” “Better than anyone.” She studied him for a moment longer, then sighed and nodded. “The details, then. He calls himself Gregor, and he hunts throughout the Southeastern states—here in Virginia, the Carolinas and Georgia, that we know of—taking the innocent, the young, any victims he desires, and encouraging his gang to do the same.” “How old is he?” “No one knows. The trail of corpses—the victims he doesn’t bother trying to hide—started appearing about a decade ago, as near as I can trace.” “And who made him?” “No one seems to know that, either.” He frowned at her. “That’s unusual.” “He’s an unusual criminal, Reaper.” Reaper rubbed his chin. “I like to know all I can about a mark before I go after him, Rhiannon. Without knowing his age or the identity of his sire, there’s no way for me to begin to calculate how strong he might be.” She looked away momentarily. “Well, if it’s too much of a challenge for you…” “I didn’t say that.” He barked the words without thinking, then went silent, seeing the mischief in her eyes and the slight smile tugging at her full lips. She knew how to get a reaction out of him, too, he reminded himself. “Tell me what you do know, then.” She nodded. “I have no idea how many are in his gang. Rumors run the gamut from ten to fifty. His apparent right-hand man is known as the Jack of Hearts, and slightly more is known about him. Probably because of the trail of broken hearts and empty bank accounts he tends to leave behind him wherever he goes.” “A con man,” Reaper said. “And an excellent lover, or so I’ve been told.” “Anything else?” “Yes, and this is…disturbing. Part of his gang—the bulk of it, in fact—is rumored to be made up of…creatures unlike any I’ve heard mention of before.” He stopped walking, frowned at her. “Creatures?” “Vampires—only…not.” “Then…what?” he asked. She blinked rapidly, scratching her cat’s head more slowly as she considered her answer. “Bear in mind, this is second- and third-hand information. I only have rumors and reports to go by. But it’s said these creatures are large, powerful blood drinkers, who seem to have no thought or will of their own. They obey Gregor mindlessly—even to the point of self-destruction.” He lifted his brows. “Does such a creature exist?” “I’ve heard of vampires who’ve learned to make slaves of ordinary mortals. They do this by drinking their blood and giving them a drop or two of their own in exchange. This leaves them weak and increasingly dependent upon the vampire, much as a drug addict becomes dependent upon his chemical of choice. But they’re still mortals. Weak, eventually mindless, yes, but only mortals. These creatures are strong, large and, apparently, immortal. An entirely different breed. No one, not even the oldest among us, can guess how Gregor made them.” Reaper nodded. “Clearly, we’re dealing with a brilliant mind. I hate clever villains. What else do you know, Rhiannon?” “Not much, I’m afraid. Only that Gregor and his gang are dangerous, a pack of rabid animals. They murder innocent mortals. They bring the danger of discovery—and the wrath and hatred of those who already know about us—down on the heads of every vampire in existence. They must be destroyed. But you’ll need to be very careful.” “Not to mention very well compensated.” She pursed her lips and tugged a drawstring bag from her sash. He hadn’t noticed it there, and no wonder. It was black velvet, like the gown itself. Holding it up so it dangled by its strings from her long, dagger-tipped fingers, she said, “Very well compensated.” He took the bag, which weighed at least two pounds and jangled musically when he shook it. He didn’t bother opening it. He trusted her. If she said it was fair, it was fair. “One hundred thousand in gold. These krugerands are only the down payment. You’ll get the rest when the job is finished.” “A hundred grand, huh? You must really want this Gregor dead.” “Not just me,” she told him. “The oldest, the most powerful and the wealthiest among us have contributed to this cause, Reaper. You have their blessing.” “The blessing of the damned. That’s rich.” She tipped her head to one side, frowning. “You’re exceedingly bitter, aren’t you?” “Am I?” “I’m only trying to tell you that if you need assistance, there are many of us waiting to offer it.” “I won’t need help.” “But if you do—” “I work alone.” He turned and walked away from her. “Contact me when it’s done,” she called after him, that air of command in her voice a note that was familiar to him and natural to her. “I won’t need to,” he said. “You’ll know. I will be in touch all the same, though, to collect the rest of my payment. ” He tossed the pouch of gold coins and caught it again as he moved out of sight. 1 Seth Connor was cornered and low on energy, crouching on the top of a crumbling crypt in the middle of a cemetery. Toxic sludge had seeped in, covering the ground on all sides, so getting down and running for it was not an option. He wouldn’t last long if he stepped into that muck. Besides, he was surrounded by zombies—half-witted, yeah, but still dangerous. The sludge didn’t seem to bother them, or maybe they were just too zoned out to notice. Still, between them and the bubbling green chemical cocktail down there, he wouldn’t stand a chance. He was going to have to try to jump the gaping distance between where he was, and where he needed to be—the roof of the caretaker’s cottage. And it was a long jump. He wasn’t sure he had enough juice left in him to make it. But standing still wasn’t an option, either. He shouldered the shotgun, emptied it into the mob of zombies, who were already trying to climb onto the roof themselves, just to clear himself a path, then pushed off hard. His body somersaulted through the air, once, twice, three times, poisonous muck flashing beneath him with every flip, and then it seemed to be getting closer. Hell! He stretched, straightened, reached—and just barely caught the edge of the cottage roof with his fingertips. His legs dangled. Zombies were reaching for him, grabbing on, trying to tug him down. He kicked at them, then managed to draw his handgun. Hanging by the fingers of one hand, he peppered the bastards with lead. They fell away. He dropped the handgun—a hell of a loss, but he might be able to find another at the next level. Tugging himself up onto the roof of the caretaker’s cottage, he took a look around and saw the path to safety: a power line suspended from the roof’s far side. He headed for it, hopped on and tightrope-walked his way to Level Nine. Blowing a relieved sigh, Seth dropped the game controller onto the coffee table, stood up and stretched the kinks out of his back. It had taken a while to get through that last level, but the feeling of triumph, though bright, was only fleeting. It was a game. A fun distraction from the constant waiting that had become his life. He didn’t even know what he was waiting for. But the sense of nervous anticipation, that electrical charge just before a lightning strike, that feeling that something big was about to happen, had come on stronger today than it ever had before. He was destined for something important. He’d always known it. But he was getting awfully bored waiting to find out what it was. His phone rang. He jumped, that was how tightly wound he was. Then he grabbed it with the half-formed notion that this might be the call that would start him on his way toward whatever it was he was supposed to be doing. A glance at the caller ID box wiped that notion away. It was only J.J. calling from The Hole, the local sports bar where Seth had been promoted to manager. Sighing, he picked up the phone. “Yeah, pal, what is it?” It was always something. “Seth, I don’t know what to do, man. Tommy’s supposed to be on grill, but he went home sick. We’re out of grenadine and the dishwasher’s acting up again. And we’re packed tonight and short on staff.” “Dude, you call me every time I have a night off.” “It’s a crisis, Seth.” “No. It’s normal. A crisis is when things are unusually bad. This is stuff that happens all the time. Normal, J.J. You gotta learn how to handle it.” “I’m trying, but there’s only one of me.” Seth lowered his head, then sighed and figured what the hell. It wasn’t as if he had anything else to do. Maybe go to bed early. Maybe dream about her again. The beautiful little redhead with the eyes that looked right through to his soul. The one who had something to do with his destiny. The one he’d never met, but had dreamed of for as long as he could remember. He sighed. She would be there waiting in his subconscious, no matter what time he went to sleep. “I’ll be right over, okay? Meanwhile, call Bobbie to come in and handle the grill. She’s closest, and she always loves picking up extra hours. Call Tanya in to wait tables. She goes right by the liquor store on her way in, so have her pick up a couple of bottles of grenadine on the way, and that’ll tide us over until the truck arrives tomorrow. I’ll be there in five minutes.” J.J. sighed audibly. “Thanks, Seth. You’re a freaking hero, you know that?” Yeah. Some hero. Master of broken-down dishwashers and missing waitstaff, he could leap stumbling drunks in a single bound. He closed his eyes and shook his head, before grabbing his hoodie off the hook by the apartment door and yanking it over his head on the way out. Four hours later, the bar was closed, stools upside down on the mahogany counter, chairs upside down on the tables, floor freshly mopped and filling the place with the scent of pine cleaner. Seth was heading out for what was left of the night, which wasn’t a hell of a lot. J.J. was beside him, carrying the money pouch, which they would dump in the bank’s night-deposit box on their way to the parking lot on the corner. His out-of-control brown frizz was being held hostage underneath a worn-out, stained-up Yankees cap. He shuffled his feet when he walked, and he slouched too much. Seth thought the kid needed a lot more than just on-the-job training if he ever wanted to get ahead in life. Then again, Seth thought, who was he to talk? Okay, maybe he didn’t have J.J.’s lack of self-esteem. But he was still in a job that was going nowhere, in a life that was nothing but filler, waiting for the big fat hairy deal he’d always believed was his destiny. He was meant for something big. He knew it. And tonight it felt closer than ever. One block to the bank. J.J. was whistling the theme song from the newest Rocky film. Traffic was nonexistent, and the pavement gleamed. “Can you believe it rained and stopped again while we were in the bar, and we never even knew it?” J.J. asked. “Yep. The Hole is like its own self-contained world.” “World?” J.J. echoed. “Nah. Small town, maybe. Better yet, it’s a self-contained soap opera. It’s got all the characters down. There’s the dirty old man, Henry, who can’t think about anything but his dick and gets away with sexually harassing every female in the place because he’s a hundred and two.” “Henry isn’t thinking about his dick, J.J. He’s trying to remind himself he’s still a man. Patting a waitress on the ass when she passes close enough for him to reach is about the only way he can still manage to do that. Although, I think he’d feel more like a man if one of them would smack him, instead of smiling and patting him on the head as if he’s cute and no real threat. They could at least pretend to be insulted.” J.J. lifted his brows. “I never thought of it that way. What about Mrs. Brown?” “Shauna?” “Yeah. Everyone knows she’s married, but she comes in every night, drinks until she’s messed up, then hits on every stranger who walks into the place.” “They never hit on her back, though.” “So?” “Think about it. She’s a good-looking woman, J.J. If she really wanted to get laid by some stranger, she wouldn’t have any trouble. She’s not really trying. If anyone shows any interest, she backs off like mad, until they take the hint and leave. Then she keeps drinking until she starts crying, and then she has me call her a taxi.” Seth shrugged. “She’s miserable and just wants to be loved. If her husband doesn’t wake up, I imagine she’ll eventually work up the strength to walk. Until then, she’ll just keep being miserable, I guess.” “You really see things about people,” J.J. told him. “What do you see in me, Seth?” Seth shrugged and didn’t look J.J. in the eye, because it was such a sappy and un-guy-like conversation to be having. “A kid with a lot of potential. You can do anything you want to, J.J. You just have to grow a pair, you know? Like tonight, you could have made some decisions, solved some of those problems on your own, and taken the consequences, good or bad, yourself. But instead, you called me, to save yourself from having to take any chances.” “Why take chances if you don’t have to?” J.J. asked. “You know how I got promoted to manager, J.J.?” Seth didn’t wait for an answer, just went on. “There was a major crisis at the bar one night. Manager had a heart attack and got rushed to the E.R. Bartender was his wife and went with him. Head waitress had to drive her there. And there I was. But I jumped in and handled it. Made some calls, got some people to fill in for the bartender and waitress, managed the place myself all night, and kept things going like clockwork. Next thing I know, I’m getting a promotion and a raise. That’s why you take chances when you don’t have to. No risk, no gain, pal.” J.J. nodded. “I think I get it.” The streetlight was flickering. Later Seth would think that flickering streetlight had almost seemed like a warning. But right then, he paid it no more attention than he did the little shiver that tiptoed up his spine for no obvious reason. Then, in the next second, someone crashed into his back, slamming him to the sidewalk so hard his chin split. Then fists pounded on his head. Pain exploded behind his eyes. Shock and surprise made his heart hammer, but he reacted anyway, rolling and flinging the bastard off him, then scrambling to his feet to take a quick look around. J.J. was lying on the ground, face-up, with some big SOB kicking him in the ribs. Seth hurled himself at J.J.’s attacker with everything he had, and the two of them sailed bodily into the alley. He landed on top of the guy. The other one jumped on him before he could even draw a breath. But he managed to shout, “Run, J.J. ! Get the hell out of here! Run!” And that was it. One of the bad asses picked him up, spun him around, then knocked him flat again with a fist to his jaw. As he lay on his back in the alley, he caught just a glimpse of J.J. running for dear life, already a block away. Then the thugs—there were four of them now, and he was damned if he knew where the other two had come from—were all around him, blocking his vision. He couldn’t see anything except legs in faded, torn jeans that hung loosely, and the front ends of unlaced Columbia suede work boots, with the tongues sticking out. “Gimme the money bag, asshole,” one of the thugs said. Seth smiled slowly, but it hurt, so he stopped. He figured his lip was split, and maybe his jaw was busted, too. He wasn’t going to tell these bastards that J.J. was the one carrying the bag. Not just yet. Give the kid time to get clear. He figured his own ass was grass, either way. “Why don’t you take it from me?” he asked. “My pleasure.” The beating really began then. And there wasn’t a hell of a lot Seth could do about it. He tried to get a few blows in, tried to block the punches and kicks with his arms, but eventually he was hurting too bad and bleeding too much to do more than curl up like a boiled shrimp and wait for them to get tired. He wondered, after a while, if this was it, the big shining moment he’d always known he was meant for. Maybe his entire purpose in life had been to be here tonight, to take the heat off J.J. So maybe it was J.J. who was truly meant for something big. Maybe he would end up being president or something. And Seth was just a pawn, a sacrifice for the greater good. Damn. He had always thought it would be something more. And his biggest regret was her—the girl he’d been dreaming about for so long. Could he really die without ever once meeting her face-to-face? It didn’t seem possible, but it looked pretty damned likely. After thoroughly tapping the vampiric grapevine, Reaper’s only lead to Gregor was a spoiled rich vampiress who called herself Topaz. She lived in a mansion on Emerald Isle, in North Carolina, and rumor had it that she’d recently lost a substantial portion of her wealth to a vampire con man who’d broken her heart. No one had heard the man’s name, but his description matched that of Gregor’s sidekick. The M.O. was right, the location was right, and Reaper was pretty sure his gut instincts were right, too. The con artist must have been the vampire known as Jack of Hearts. And if he could find Jack, he could find Gregor and the rest of the rogue band. So he was on his way to Emerald Isle when the sensation hit him. First it was a sense of nervous energy, a clenching of his stomach, a twitching of various muscles, a surge of epinephrine. Fight or flight. But it came for no reason. He wasn’t in danger. No, but someone is. He felt pain, then. Excruciating pain. Not his own. And then he sensed the essence behind it, the aura that came whenever one of his kind came into proximity with one of theirs, or whenever one of his kind was in dire need. The feelings were coming from one of the Chosen. And not just any one of the Chosen. But his. Seth Connor. The young man was in trouble. And the bottom fell out of Reaper’s stomach in spite of himself. The kid was always in trouble of one kind or another, but the pain he was feeling now…This was no minor scrape. “God, now of all times?” Reaper rolled his eyes and told himself that Seth was proving to be exactly the kind of nuisance Reaper had told Rhiannon he was. He told himself that, even as he stopped everything he was doing to race to Seth’s aid. He reminded himself that there was no choice. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Rhiannon that he was compelled, as were all vampires, to protect and watch over Seth’s kind. If he could have ignored the call, he thought deliberately, determinedly, he might very well have kept on driving. Yeah. Right. And just who do you think you’re kidding, Reaper? So he obeyed his instinctive need to go to the younger man, and go fast. He took an exit, following his senses, his intuition, and as he got nearer, he realized it was a damn good thing he had. Reaper felt the cold breath of his grim namesake nearby and knew that Seth, his own charge, was near death. He skidded the car to a halt, leapt out, turned and ran, moving so quickly that he was invisible to human eyes. Moments later, he was at the mouth of an alley, where four upright men were kicking and beating one who lay on the ground, curled loosely in on himself. Reaper didn’t speak, he just moved. His first blow sent one man smashing into a wall, where his head took a chunk out of the cinder block it hit. He grabbed the second one by his nape and hurled him through the air, not bothering to watch where he came down, though he heard glass breaking. He grabbed the third by his hair and slammed his face into the ground. And then he delivered a kick to the solar plexus of the fourth that probably split his intestine apart. And all of it in the space of two seconds, possibly less. Finally he knelt beside the young man, his cast-iron stomach churning as he bent closer. Seth’s face had been badly beaten. His eyes were swollen and purple, his nose broken, lips split, jaw unhinged or broken. His own mother wouldn’t have known him. Reaper knew him, though. He knew his scent, his essence. His restless, frustrated energy. As much as he disliked physical contact, there was nothing else for it right then. Reaper slid an arm beneath Seth’s shoulders and lifted his head up from the concrete floor of the alley where he lay. His body was as broken as his face, but it didn’t show as much to the naked eye. “Did J.J. get away?” Seth asked. His voice was coarse and soft. Reaper narrowed his eyes, then probed the younger man’s mind and saw the scene unfolding through Seth’s memory. The attack. The other, even younger, man, J.J., being beaten. He saw what Seth had done, taking the attackers on himself to give J.J. the chance to escape. He could easily have gotten away himself, but he hadn’t. Reaper sensed that J.J. had. “Yes, he’s safe,” he said. Seth sighed and closed his eyes. “I’m glad.” Seth was dying. Or else he wasn’t. The decision was his. “Open your eyes, Seth,” Reaper said. “I need to talk to you.” Seth wasn’t sure if he was alive or dead. The pain was fading, and so was everything else. He felt as if he were falling farther and farther away from everything real. And then an insistent voice, a man’s voice, one that was oddly familiar to him, made its way through a long and winding pathway from his ear to his brain. “Open your eyes, Seth. I need to talk to you.” He tried to obey—something about that voice made him want to—but he couldn’t. And really, he didn’t want to, not all that much. He was dreaming about her again. She was so real, so freaking real, this time. He could feel her when he touched her. Soft skin, masses of coppery hair he couldn’t stop stroking. Her petite frame, her soft voice, the uncertainty that always seemed to linger behind her eyes. “I really don’t have time for this, you know. If you don’t wake up and give me an answer, I’m just going to have to do it without your consent.” Consent? Do what without his consent? “Seth, honestly, I’m nearly out of patience.” The man sighed, and when he spoke again, his voice was different. It held some kind of power that hadn’t been there before. “Hear my voice and obey, Seth Connor. My will is yours. Do as I say. Open. Your. Eyes.” Seth realized he was alive after all. He had to be, to hurt this bad. He supposed he had to wake up and pay attention if he wanted to keep it that way. He hated leaving his dream girl behind, but maybe this way he would get that chance to meet her for real after all. Yeah. It could still happen. That hope was what drove him to gather his strength, what little remained of it, and open his eyes. Barely. They were swollen and sore, and his vision wasn’t any too clear. But the form that took shape, very slowly, before him, was that of a man, probably no more than a few years older than he was himself, and yet way, way older in some unnamable way. “I…know you,” he managed to mutter. “I’ve…seen you before.” “Yes, you have. I pulled you out of the river when you fell in, back when you were ten or eleven. And I dragged you out of the car wreck that killed your parents when you were sixteen, just before it went up in flames. There were countless other times when I helped you out of one scrape or another. None quite this serious, though.” Seth’s mind was spinning, because all of a sudden he did remember. “How come I didn’t remember—I mean, until now?” “Because I didn’t want you to.” The guy hadn’t aged, Seth realized. Of course, he’d been beaten senseless, and his vision was blurry and it was dark, but somehow he didn’t think it was a mistake. The guy looked exactly the same as he had those other times. Dark hair, brooding features, deep-set eyes that almost looked haunted. “Who are you?” he managed to ask. “Your protector, for lack of a better term.” “Why?” “Not by choice, I’ll tell you that much. The rest will have to wait, Seth. You don’t have a lot of time.” Seth nodded, and it hurt when he moved. “I’m dying, huh?” “Yes, I’m afraid so. Your mortal life is ending. There are internal injuries. A ruptured spleen, I think, though I can’t be sure. You’re bleeding inside. It won’t be long.” “I didn’t think it would be over this fast.” Seth tried to look around, but there were only out-of-focus shapes in the darkness now. His vision was narrowing, shrinking inward, so he squinted at the man again. “What is it you want me to do, before I…go?” “I’m a vampire, Seth. I wish I had time to tell you all that entails. But I can only give you the barest of basics. I’m one of the undead. I live by night, and blood, not food, is my sustenance, though I do not need to kill in order to live. That’s a myth. I never age. I’m powerful, strong, fast. My senses are heightened beyond anything you can imagine, and there are extra ones, as well. All of this can be yours, too, if you choose to become what I am. You need only tell me.” Seth stared at him and wondered if he was hallucinating. “The alternative is death, and whatever waits beyond that,” the man went on. “The choice is yours. But you need to make it soon, Seth. You won’t be able to remain conscious much longer.” And in that moment, everything became crystal-clear to Seth. Everything in his life fell into place, all the pieces interlocking, to form the outline of a jigsaw puzzle. There were still pieces missing, almost the entire inside of the thing. He couldn’t see the design, the picture, only that outline, that form. For the first time he could see its shape, see that it was real. This was the destiny he’d been sensing all his life. This was the first step on the path of the life he was meant to live—the path that was going to lead him to her, at some point along the way. He was sure of it. This was the beginning of something big. And as it turned out, it was something far bigger than even he had ever imagined. “I want to live,” he said. “I’m supposed to. There’s something I have to do.” “Is there? And what would that be, Seth?” The man sounded almost amused. Didn’t matter. Seth knew it was real. “I don’t know all of it yet. There’s a girl—a woman—God, she’s something special.” “Really?” Amusement was shaded by something far darker now. “She have a name?” “I don’t know it…yet. But I know I have to find her. And I know there’s more—something major I have to do. So I’d better take you up on this…this vampire thing. ’Cause the alternative is to die, and I’ll never get it done that way.” “You’ll never get anything done that way. So be it, then,” the vampire replied. And then he leaned over, and even as Seth told himself there would probably be some far less dramatic way to accomplish the thing than the one so common in pop fiction, the man bent closer, tipped Seth’s head back and sank his fangs into Seth’s throat. He felt them pierce the skin, pop into the vein. There was pain, sharp and somehow good, and then there was the most incredible sense of release—not orgasmic, but more like a pressure cooker suddenly letting off steam. It rushed out of him, this pressure and tension and frailty, and pain, too. It rushed out of him with the blood that was rushing out of him, into the vampire’s hungry mouth. He tipped his head back farther, willing the stranger to take it all, and he felt his life ebbing away, flowing out of him with every swallow the vampire took. And then the creature lifted his head away, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and lowered Seth to the ground. Seth’s vision cleared, and he lay there on his back, in that alley full of trash, staring up at the glittering stars far, far away. “You’re dying now. Just as you begin to do so, Seth, I’ll bring you back. Don’t be afraid. Just relax and let it happen.” Seth tried to nod, but he sensed that nothing moved. Then, just before it all went black, he glimpsed her. Just for an instant. Her long, thick, copper-red hair hung over one shoulder, and her huge brown eyes pleaded with his in a way they never had before. He saw her more clearly, felt her more clearly, than he ever had. Her eyes were darkly lined, exotic and slanted. Her body was small, lithe but incredibly powerful. She was wild, he sensed, and then he sensed something else. She was caged. She was begging for someone to help her. For him to help her. It wasn’t a dream. Not this time. It was real. He was really seeing her, somehow, in his mind. It wasn’t a dream. Everything inside him reached for her, yearned for her, and then everything in him simply stopped. There was darkness, silence, no sense, no feeling, and then… Bam! Sensation slammed into him like an electric jolt. He went as rigid as a flat-lining patient when the paddles were applied. But there were no paddles. There was only a wrist, which he was holding to his mouth with both hands, and from which he was drinking just as greedily as if he were dying of thirst. He felt beyond feeling. He sensed beyond belief. He tasted and saw and heard and smelled a million, million things all at once, and knew them all. Jerking the wrist away from his mouth, pulling his head back, he sat there, blinking, reeling. “It’ll be all right,” the vampire said. “It takes some time, but you’re going to get used to it.” Somehow, Seth doubted that. “God, she’s real. I mean, I always knew it, but I doubted—I wondered. But she’s real. She’s so real, and she needs me.” The man frowned at him. “Who needs you?” “The girl,” Seth told him. “We have to find her. We have to go to her. But I don’t know how. I don’t know where she is, or—” “Okay, okay, you take it easy now. We’ll get to the bottom of this, all right? Don’t worry. Right now, you just need to…rest. Just rest and let your body adjust to the change. Okay?” Seth nodded, lowered his head, closed his eyes and muttered, “Okay.” 2 Vixen paced from one end of her cell to the other without breaking stride. Her steps were small and light and smooth, and she tended to walk on her toes. She didn’t like it here. She didn’t like the people who were holding her. She didn’t like the bars that held her captive or the fact that she couldn’t simply squeeze out between them. She could have, once. Before they made her into whatever sort of demon she had become. But she hadn’t been able to change since. “Vixen, is it?” The one called Briar leaned against the cage from the outside. Her hair was wild, wavy, thick and mink-brown, like her eyes. She was very young, must have been made into one of them at an unreasonably early age. Then again, so had Vixen herself. “What do you want?” Vixen asked. She gathered her hair, pulling it around to the front of her, so it hung over one shoulder, and stroked it. Whenever she was nervous, she tended to stroke or play with it—her way of touching her own nature, reminding herself of who and what she truly was. Not one of them. Never one of them. “It’s not what I want,” Briar said. “It’s what Gregor wants.” Vixen shrugged. “What does he want, then?” “He wants you to help him. After all, he’s helped you.” “He caged me. In this body. In this cell.” Briar shrugged. “In the cell, maybe. Not in the body, though. You can still change.” Vixen lowered her eyes, shaking her head slowly. Her throat felt tight, and odd, warm fluid filled her eyes. “I was in human form when he…bit me and drank my blood as if I were a chicken. He made me…whatever I am now. I tried to shift back, but—” “You were newly made, and you were weak and frightened. That was six months ago, Vixen. You’re stronger now. You have to try again.” Vixen looked Briar in the eye and shivered. She always shivered when she caught the scent of the darkness that lived in that one’s soul. It was cold and frightening. “Try, Vixen.” Vixen sighed and shook her head side to side. “Try, Vixen,” Briar said again, but she said it differently this time. There was anger in her voice. “Try, or go to sleep hungry again.” “I don’t mind going to sleep hungry.” Briar sighed and reached up to the wall, where the long metal prod rested on a hook. Vixen flinched, and backed up as far as her cell would allow. “Fine,” Briar said, “I’ll just play with you for a while, and then you can go to bed hungry. How’s that sound?” She stuck the rod between the bars, and no matter how Vixen twisted away, she couldn’t get beyond its reach. It touched her belly, and jolted her so hard her head snapped back and her knees buckled. She curled on the floor, trembling. “Please, don’t.” “But I enjoy it so.” Briar poked her again, in the neck this time. Vixen jerked away, and her head hit the floor. “Now, you’re going to try for me. Aren’t you, Vixen?” Vixen opened her mouth to answer, but she couldn’t get words out. Briar stabbed the rod in the small of her back, and she arched and cried out, forming the word yes on her agonized scream. When it died, she lay there on the cold stone floor, shaking uncontrollably. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll try.” “Good. I’ll give you an hour to recover. And if you make me torture you again, Vixen, it’s going to be something a hell of a lot worse than the prod. Understand?” Vixen nodded, the motions jerky and tight. “One hour.” Briar turned and walked away down the echoing stone hallway, taking the light with her. Vixen heard her feet ascending stairs, and then the slamming of a heavy door. She was alone. Her senses wouldn’t deceive her about something so simple. She was alone, here. The only prisoner of these cruel sapiens. And yet, she wasn’t alone. There was a mouse family living on the other side of the room. They’d made a nest in one of the deep chasms in the stone, and they huddled there out of sight whenever one of them came into the dungeon. But they would come out for her. Oh, they wouldn’t get too close. After all, she’d spent a good many hours of her life as one of their natural predators. But despite that, they sensed her animal nature, and her pain and distress. They were curious. They came out now, though she’d felt them coming even before she saw them. She heard their little squeaks as they conversed and began hunting the floor for any crumbs, shooting looks her way as they went. You won’t find any crumbs around here. Those ones don’t eat food. She thought the words at them, as images and ideas, not as a language. And she knew they understood. They hurried across the floor, to the loose board in the bottom of the door that led outside, and squeezed their tiny bodies through it. She hoped they would gnaw it some more as she had tried to convey they should. If she could shift, she would need the board to give a bit more to allow her to squeeze through easily—though she might be able to fit even now, if only she could change. Even when the mice were gone, she still didn’t feel entirely alone. There had been someone else. She’d sensed him all at once tonight, when one of the drones had taken her outside for a well-guarded and far too short walk. Gregor wanted her healthy—weak, and half-starved, but basically sound—until he figured out whether he could use her or not. So she was granted a nightly walk. And tonight, she’d felt him. A male. A kind one. He had seemed so very real, and so near that she had even lifted her head, sniffing the air and feeling with her senses to try to locate him, even identify him. Human or animal or vampire—she couldn’t be sure. And then she had realized that he wasn’t close to her, not physically. But in some other way, he was. Incredibly close. And he was coming—coming to help her. She had felt it, known it. He had told her so, somehow. She had closed her eyes and focused on that feeling with everything in her. “If you’re coming to me,” she’d whispered, “please hurry. If I have to stay here much longer I’ll die. Please hurry. I need you.” And just as suddenly as it had arrived, her sense of that other person, the male, faded entirely the moment she was ushered back inside, through the cellars she thought of as dungeons and into her cold cell. She hadn’t sensed him again since then. She wondered now if she had only imagined him, and she sank to the cold floor, lowering her head as despair crushed her. But she didn’t allow it to hold her in its grip. She lifted her chin, and she vowed that she would escape these creatures who held her. She was smarter than they were, more cunning, and more in tune with her senses and her instincts. If they were right, and she could shift back, then it would not take her long to make her way out of here. She would slip away at the first opportunity. And then she would be free. Free to run and play and live again. But even then, it would never be the same. She could never go back to what she was before. She knew it, sensed it. In a very real way, her life was already over. Seth opened his eyes and lay very, very still, because damn. Everything was different. “Ah, you’re awake,” the vampire said. Seth blinked, amazed, because, yeah, the guy was a vampire, and it was real and now he was…he was… “What’s wrong, Seth?” “Your voice. Dude, it’s like I can hear every vocal cord vibrating when you talk.” “I know.” “I can feel the air touching my skin.” “You can probably hear the grass growing, if you listen for it,” the vampire said. “So I’m either tripping on acid, or I’m…” “You’re a vampire. Your senses are heightened. Magnified. Everything is impacted. You’ll feel both pleasure and, unfortunately, pain, at levels almost beyond endurance.” Seth closed his eyes. “What a trip.” “An endless one,” the man said. Seth lifted his head, realizing he was in a car, and that the other man was driving. The road was dark before them, the lines flashing by at an alarming speed. “Where are we going?” A little voice deep inside told him he knew damn well where he was going. He was going to her. He didn’t know how, or exactly why, but he felt it. He was getting closer to her with every mile. “North Carolina. I was on a mission when you interrupted me, Seth. I don’t have any more time to waste.” “I interrupted you? By what, almost dying?” “Exactly.” Seth searched the vampire’s dark face, awaiting an explanation he seemed reluctant to give. Finally, the man nodded as if he’d decided on something. “There are a lot of things you’re going to need to learn in a very short time, Seth, and this isn’t the most important among them. But I’ll try to sate your curiosity all the same.” “Gee, thanks.” “You don’t need to thank me. I’m your maker, your sire. Your father, in a way. It’s my duty to educate you.” “I was being sarcastic, pal. You don’t have much of a sense of humor, do you?” “I’ve never seen the need for one.” “You ever…make any others?” The vampire frowned at Seth briefly, before returning his gaze to the road. “You have a rare blood type, Seth. It contains an antigen called Belladonna. Humans with this blood type tend to grow weak and die young. They also tend to bleed excessively.” “I’ve always had the bleeding thing. I knew about the antigen—makes transfusions tough to come by. I didn’t know I was gonna get weak and die young, though.” “You would have, eventually. Now you won’t. But you know that. What you don’t know is that only humans with the Belladonna antigen can become undead, Seth. Such mortals are known among us as the Chosen. All vampires had the antigen as mortals. And all vampires sense mortals with the antigen, and are compelled to aid and even protect them.” “You’re kidding me. Hell, that’s why you’ve shown up before. Helped me out when I got into trouble.” “That’s why.” “But…why you, why not any others? I mean, there are others, right?” He sat up straighter in the seat, surprised that the movement didn’t hurt him. Last he remembered, he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. “How many of them—of us—are there? And where are they? Are we going to meet them? Is there some kind of a—” The driver actually smiled, and it was such a stunning thing to see that Seth went silent. That dark, morose expression faded for just a moment. But then it returned so swiftly that Seth almost wondered if he’d imagined the change. “May I continue now?” the vampire asked. “Yeah. I just…There’s so much I want to know.” “And you’ll learn all of it, in time. For now, I’ll continue with the part I’ve begun. For each vampire, there is one mortal with whom the psychic bond is particularly strong. For me, that mortal is you. That’s why you’ve seen me before. That’s why I’ve helped you when you’ve been in trouble in the past. And it’s why I could not do anything but come to you again when you were near death.” Seth nodded slowly. “I appreciate it.” “If I’d had a choice in the matter, I’d likely have continued on my mission and left you to live or die on your own.” Hell, this guy was one cold son of a bitch, Seth thought. “Careful. I can hear your thoughts, you know.” Seth’s brows rose high. “You…?” “But you aren’t wrong. I am a cold son of a bitch.” “Damn.” Again the vampire smiled, just slightly this time. “I’ll teach you to block your thoughts. It’s just further evidence I made the right decision in bringing you along with me. Initially I intended to transform you and leave you behind. I only realized after the deed was done that a fledgling vampire as clueless as you wouldn’t last a week on his own.” “Hey, ease up there, pal. I think I could have managed just fine on my own.” The vampire looked at him briefly, brows raised, a look of skepticism in his dark eyes. “I’m not kidding,” Seth told him; then he turned to gaze out the window, amazed that he could see for miles, and that everything was as clear as day to him, despite the fact that it was dark outside. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this. I mean, I didn’t know it was this, but it has to be. I always knew I was meant for something big, something important.” “The girl,” the vampire said. And Seth shot him a look. The man shrugged. “You mentioned her, earlier.” He nodded. “She’s part of it. But there’s more. Maybe this mission of yours. What is it, exactly?” “I’ve got to kill someone.” Seth shivered and looked down at his hands in his lap. “Hell.” “Don’t worry. He’s in dire need of killing. And I have no intention of letting you become involved. I work alone.” “Well, you did. But, uh, I’m kind of here now, so—” “I work alone.” Seth nodded. The vamp was a cranky bastard. He realized, as the man shot him a look, that he’d heard that thought, too. Seth attempted a sheepish grin. “Sorry. This is gonna take some getting used to.” “Mmm.” “You know, I don’t even know your name.” “Reaper,” the vampire said. And that was it, nothing more. “Reaper. Huh. Well, hell, I guess it fits.” Seth was quiet for a moment; then he sent the guy a smirk. “So can I call you Grim?” “No.” Not even a smile. Seth sat back in the seat, realizing that joking wasn’t going to go over real big with this guy. He flipped on the radio and began looking for a decent station. “Reaper, you saved my butt back there. I owe you, you know. So if you decide you do need some help with this mission of yours, you just say the word, okay?” Reaper looked at him with one brow higher than the other. “Don’t look like that. You don’t know me, pal. There’s not a lot I can’t do.” “I don’t doubt it. And I’d lay odds your friend J.J. will never forget what you did for him last night.” Seth looked at him, because that statement had almost sounded…approving. But there was no sign of it in Reaper’s face. So Seth looked away, saying nothing. “If there wasn’t much you couldn’t do before, Seth,” Reaper told him, “then believe me, there is considerably less you can’t do now. There are a few things you should know immediately, however.” “Shoot,” Seth told him. “You’re extremely flammable. Stay away from fire. Sunlight will kill you, slowly and painfully. That part of the mythology is true.” “How about a stake through the heart?” Seth asked. “A stake through any part of you could kill you, but not because of the stake. We tend to bleed excessively, and bleeding out is one of the ways we can die. However, if you get cut and can stanch the bleeding until the day sleep, you’ll heal with the sunrise. Always remember that. If you can stay alive until daylight, you’ll survive.” “Okay. How about a crucifix? Will that hurt me?” “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re not devils.” “Sorry.” He’d offended the guy. Hell, who knew vampires had pet peeves? “You need blood to survive,” Reaper went on. “You can get it from blood banks. You don’t need to take victims. You’re going to feel pain a hell of a lot more than you did before. It’s one of the things that can lay you out. It can be that debilitating. But the balance to that is you’ll feel pleasure more intensely, as well. The older you get, the more intense your senses become, and your other powers, as well.” “What other powers?” “Running with great speed, leaping incredibly high, telepathy, mind control, sheer strength.” Seth smiled. He thought of his latest and most impressive feat to date. Besides saving J.J.’s life and becoming a vampire, that was. “I wonder if I could leap off the top of a crypt, somersault three times and land on my feet on a roof a dozen yards away.” “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Reaper said. “Could you do it?” “Of course.” Seth smiled a little. “Yeah, but could you do it over a toxic swamp full of zombies?” Reaper frowned at him briefly, then shook his head as if puzzled and returned his attention to the road. Seth found a radio station he liked and cranked the volume. He was surprised that Reaper didn’t reach out and snap it off again, and even more surprised to see the cranky bastard’s foot tapping in time every now and then. They rode that way for three excellent songs in a row; then the station launched into a block of commercials, so Seth turned it down. “So where in North Carolina are we going?” he asked. “Emerald Isle. Rather near Wilmington.” “Uh-huh. Is that where the guy you have to kill is?” “I don’t know.” Seth waited. Reaper didn’t say more, though. “Hey, come on, fill me in. You seem like a decent guy. You wouldn’t be after this dude if there wasn’t a reason.” “I’m a killer, Seth. An assassin. It’s what I did as a mortal, and it’s what I still do. I’m very good at it, but there are…there are things about me that make me as dangerous as hell. You’re not safe with me. No one is. Keep that in mind, and keep your guard up. Don’t trust me. Don’t trust anyone.” Seth frowned, studying Reaper’s profile. “Is that my first lesson on being a vampire?” “That’s your first lesson on being alive. It should be everyone’s.” “You’re intense, you know that? Are you always this serious? This freaking…dark?” “Yes.” Reaper glanced sideways at Seth, and then sighed. “There is a gang of rogue vampires, led by a man called Gregor, who’ve been murdering humans at will. Young, old, innocent, it doesn’t matter. They leave bloodless bodies, with fang marks in their throats, lying around where they can be easily discovered. They have to be stopped.” “Damn straight. You can’t just go around murdering innocent people.” “I’m more concerned at their lack of discretion. It exposes our existence to people who might otherwise never know of it. And that puts us all at risk.” “Oh.” Seth nodded. “So what’s in Wilmington?” “A vampiress who might know something of the gang’s whereabouts.” “What makes you think she knows?” “She’s beautiful, incredibly wealthy, and it’s rumored she recently had her heart and her bank accounts broken by the same man. That sort of game is one Gregor’s right-hand man is extremely fond of playing.” Seth nodded, and wondered if this vampiress with the broken heart was the woman he was looking for. He was still full of questions. But he decided to give Reaper a break. Then he reached up for the rearview mirror and tilted it down to check out his face. Sure, the pain was gone, but he had to be bruised pretty badly. However, when he looked in the mirror, there was no reflection. A wave of nausea rose up in him, and he pushed it down. “That’s another one of the myths about us that are true,” Reaper told him. “And your bruises are gone. They healed with the day sleep. Everything did, just as it always will.” Seth licked his lips, leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. “One more question, okay?” “Only one?” Reaper sounded skeptical. “For now.” Seth opened his eyes, wanting to see the guy’s expression for this one. “That stuff you told me about the Chosen, and about every vampire having one special one, one that he’s more connected to than any other?” “Yes.” “Well, I’m a vampire now, too, right?” Reaper nodded. “So do I have a bond with one of the Chosen, too?” “Yes. One of the Chosen—or, possibly even one who’s already become a vampire. The bond remains even after the transformation. You may not know who it is right away, but yes. There will be a powerful connection, a pull. You’ll know when that one needs you. You’ll feel compelled to help.” “Could I have felt that bond even before I was changed over?” Frowning, Reaper glanced at him. “I don’t see why not.” Seth was pretty sure he already felt it. Had felt it all his life, and then, more potently than ever, just as his mortal life had ebbed away. The beautiful thing with the coppery red hair and the huge brown eyes. She was a part of his destiny. He’d never been more sure of anything. For just a moment he started to panic. What if he was supposed to be helping her right now? What if he couldn’t find her in time? What if…? And then he felt it. Just as surely as day followed night, he knew it. They were going the right way. He was doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing. The fate he’d been waiting for was at hand. He’d never felt this way before. He knew it was dead-on-balls accurate. He sighed and tried to relax. He was on his path, on his journey, doing what he’d been meant to do his entire life. And he was going to do it right. 3 “I hate him. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!” Topaz hurled a 1945 Waterford cut crystal vase into the wall with so much force that it dented the surface before it exploded into a thousand glittering bits. It wasn’t as satisfying as smashing his face would be, though. God, when she thought about how she’d been with him, the things she’d done. She’d been utterly uninhibited, willing to do anything, try anything, experience anything, because she was sure she was safe in his hands. That he was just as enamored of her as she was of him. That he loved her. He’d convinced her of that. She’d allowed it. “Liar!” She kicked an oak rocking chair out of her path as she paced the mansion’s great room. It hit the fireplace mantel and broke into three pieces on the way to the floor. Topaz was enraged. She needed to feed the fury inside her, and stored blood wasn’t going to do. Not tonight, not with the memory of him so alive in her mind. She’d been making progress getting over him. Or she’d thought so. And then that freaking gossip of a vampiress, Dorinda, had to bring it all crashing back on her. With her, Oh, honey, I just had to come by and see how you were doing, and her, I know exactly how you must feel. All of it bullshit, all of it just a way of leading up to the real reason for her visit. which was to impart the news that Jack had been seen several times in Savannah, in the company of a very young, very beautiful vampiress no one seemed to know anything about. Dorinda hadn’t come out of concern. She’d wanted to gossip and gloat, and twist the blade Jack had driven into Topaz’s heart. Dorinda was jealous. She’d wanted Jack for herself. The lucky bitch should be grateful she hadn’t gotten him. It galled Topaz that she’d been so transparent, so idiotically in love that she’d revealed it to everyone she knew. So that when her money vanished, and her lover with it, everyone knew that, too. She’d been publicly humiliated. She’d been used. And she’d been robbed. And hurt. Though she would never admit that to anyone, ever, not even under torture. But she’d been hurt more than she had ever hurt in death or in life. And she didn’t think the pain was going to end any time soon. She had really loved the bastard. She grabbed a jacket, slung it on over her glittery tank top and designer jeans, not because she would feel the night’s chill, but because it was a cute jacket, leather with fur trim at the collar and cuffs in a shade of pale mink that exactly matched her hair. Topaz enjoyed nice things. And while she wasn’t destitute, by any means, Jack’s thievery had set her back substantially. He’d taken her for a half million, convinced her to let him invest it in something she should have known sounded too good to be true. As it turned out, it was something that didn’t even exist. “Bastard.” She flung the door open and dove into her bloodred Mercedes SL-500, and then she drove at high speeds, searching for trouble. A couple of hours later, she found it. She didn’t know what city she was in. She’d been following her senses, not road signs. There was a killer here. Yes. She would have settled for a wife beater or a child abuser, or quite possibly someone parked in a handicapped spot without a permit, but a killer was better. Less chance of morning-after doubts. She parked the car and tried to quiet her mind long enough to focus. She needed him, needed to vent the rage that was boiling over by now, needed the solace that came with the blood. Like morphine, it eased her pain. Like mother’s milk to a newborn, it comforted and calmed. Living blood, more than any other kind. And that was what she needed. It wasn’t often that the pain got this bad, but when it did, a human had to die. She wasn’t a rogue. She wouldn’t take an innocent. Not only because of the regrets that would leave imprinted on her heart, but because it would bring the wrath of the entire undead community down upon her head, and she didn’t need that. Over the years, Topaz had learned how to control the filters in her mind, to raise and lower them at will. She lowered them now, briefly, like opening floodgates to the thoughts and senses of thousands, perhaps millions, of mortals within her range. Noise came in from all directions, deafening, maddening, perhaps, given time. But worse than the noise—far worse—were the sensations. Pleasure, pain, heat, cold. And still worse, the emotions. Nearly crippling in their intensity. Hurt, grief, joy, fear, love. She wasn’t new at this. For ten years she’d been honing her skills, and now she put them to use. She filtered through the myriad signals her mind received, taking her time. She had all night, after all. She filtered out the joy, the love, the anger, until she’d eliminated everything but the fear. And then she explored still further, until eventually she felt something promising. Cold, stark fear. And pain with it. There, yes, she felt it, and homed in on it, focusing, shutting out everything else now. Not far from here. Not far at all. Topaz opened the car door, got out, clicked the lock button and turned, scenting the air now, in addition to following her sense of the woman. And then of the man causing the fear and the pain. Yes. This way. She moved, enjoying the click, click, click of her three-hundred-dollar Italian stilettos on the sidewalk. As she got closer and the signals came clearer, she moved faster, faster still, until she was only a blur of motion to mortal eyes. And then she stopped, standing beneath a fire escape, staring up at an open window. He was there. And he was busy. Topaz bent her knees and pushed off, soaring upward, landing on the fire escape right outside the window with barely a sound or an effort. She stared into the apartment. A woman was lying facedown on a pretty white carpet, while a man humped her from behind. He had a knife in his hand, and it was near her throat. Topaz climbed through the window and stood there, four feet from the couple on the floor. “Are you about done, there, pal? We have some business, you and I.” He stopped humping, swung his head up, met her eyes. His own registered shock. “How the hell—” And then anger. “Get the hell outta here, bitch, or you’ll be next.” “Oh, do you promise?” she asked in a higher than usual voice. “Come on, baby. Do me right now. I want you bad.” His eyes narrowed. The apartment was neat, and scented with vanilla. Probably a pleasant place, until this asshole had come to fill it with terror and strife. Topaz wasn’t enjoying her visit here. She didn’t intend to hang around any longer than necessary. “Put the knife down and let her go.” “I’ll cut her. I’ll cut her fucking throat if you don’t get out of here.” As he said it, he gripped a handful of the woman’s hair and lifted her head. The blade was pressed to her neck. She had a little too much makeup on, and some of the mascara was running under her pretty blue eyes. Big earrings, big hair, tiny skirt, and a top that was about the size of a Band-Aid. Probably a prostitute, a classy one, judging by her good looks and her apartment. But to jerks like this guy, a whore was a whore, and this one deserved whatever she got. “I’m out of patience.” Topaz lunged forward so fast that he could not possibly have seen her move. To him, it must have seemed that she just disappeared, then reappeared an instant later right beside him as his knife went sailing across the room and right out the window. It cleared the fire escape, and by the time it clattered to the ground below, Topaz was picking him up off the woman, one hand clasping him by a large handful of his thick head of hair. The woman tugged her tiny, tight skirt down as she scrambled to her feet. She ran to the door and was out of there without bothering to say thanks. But that was okay. Topaz had her prize. She turned the man to face her. He wasn’t struggling. He was scared. Clearly, he’d picked up on the fact that she wasn’t exactly human. Finally. It had taken him long enough. But at long last he knew something was off. “What the hell do you want?” he asked. “I want you to look me in the eyes and say you’ll never hurt me.” He frowned. “I won’t.” “Say it.” “I’ll n-never hurt you.” “Tell me I can trust you.” “You can. You can trust me, I swear.” “Tell me you love me. Call me baby.” “I love you, baby.” “You fucking liar.” She jerked him to her, and sank her teeth into his throat so deeply she scraped bone. She didn’t drink, she gorged. She feasted. She tore his flesh, and she enjoyed every minute of it. As she drank she saw them, the women he’d raped in the past few years. There were dozens. Most of them alive. But he’d killed the last three—no, two. Only two. The one tonight was supposed to have been number three. Well, no more. When she’d drained him, and his warm blood was flowing through her, soothing her, easing her rage, she felt every tense muscle in her body uncoil. She felt release. Relief. And it was good. She flung his considerably lighter corpse over her shoulder, anchored him there with one arm and swiped her lips with the back of her other hand. Then she climbed out the window with him, jumped easily to the ground and headed back toward where she’d left her car. If anyone saw, they didn’t speak. It wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where people were likely to butt in, and she was moving so fast it was unlikely mortal eyes would be able to tell what she was carrying. She flicked the button on her key ring, and her trunk popped open. Then she tossed the body inside and slammed it closed. She knew a nice swamp where he would sink out of sight and probably not emerge for a good century or two—if ever. Topaz got behind the wheel, started the engine and said, “That could only have been better if it had really been you, Jack.” She tried really hard to visualize herself ripping into his jugular and sucking him dry. But instead she imagined sinking her teeth into him in passion, not anger, and sipping from him while he slid his cock into her and drove her wild. God, it had been so good with him. It had never been that good before. She didn’t imagine it ever would be again. And instead of feeling better, she just felt more pain. Oh, the rage was gone. She’d sated that. Temporarily. But not the hurt. Nothing could ease the hurt. How could she still want him, even while wanting to kill him? “Maybe I’ll just have to kill him, then. Thanks to that gossipy bitch, I have a pretty good idea where he is.” Unfortunately, there wasn’t time for traveling tonight. It would be daylight by the time she dumped the body in the swamp and made her way to the safety of her home. She put the car into gear, spun the tires a little as she pulled away from the curb and cranked the volume on the MP3, choosing the playlist she’d named Madder than Hell. The first song to come on was Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughtta Know.” Fitting. …you told me you’d hold me until you died—till you died—but you’re still alive! She was going to do it, she thought. She was going to find him, hunt him down and make him pay. Make him suffer the way he’d made her suffer. Sure, she’d been too devastated at first to think of vengeance. But that part was over. Now she was just fucking angry. She was going to kill the bastard, and while she was at it, she was going to get her money back. Tonight, just as soon as the sun set and darkness fell, she was going on the hunt for Jack Heart, to make him pay for what he’d done to her. No one treated her that way and lived to tell the tale. No one. 4 Roxanne O’Mally was twisted into what a nonpractitioner would have called a human pretzel when the broomstick standing beside the front door tipped over. Well, tipped over wasn’t really what it did. It hurled itself to the floor as if bent on suicide. She frowned, then slowly untwisted, rose from her yoga mat and padded barefoot, not to mention stark naked, to the broomstick, bent and picked it up. “Company coming,” she muttered. But the emphatic nature of the message seemed to suggest there was more to it than just the traditional signal of a toppling broomstick. Roxy would have told herself she was being overly nervous, except that she’d been having odd feelings for days, and bad dreams three nights in a row. An evil spider weaving a web in the middle of a busy sidewalk. A bear trap set and baited in the heart of a wildlife preserve. A sense of someone waiting around a corner, just out of sight, someone dangerous, about to spring, but not on her. Roxy reclaimed her unfinished drink—a tall glass still half full of her own special blend of vegetable juices and empowering herbs. “Let’s just see about this,” she said as she pulled on a satin robe, slid her feet into matching slippers and scuffed to the table in the middle of her rain forestlike living room. She had filled the place with man-sized waterfall-fountains, tub-sized misters and more plants than furniture. She kept the humidity level at eighty percent in here. God, she loved her home. Taking a seat, she sipped her drink, then set it down, picked up the tarot cards and began to shuffle as she thought about opening herself to messages from spirits. Then she laid the cards out in a careful pattern. The Hermit. That card usually indicated an inner journey. But the thought that came to mind when she saw it was of her dearest friend. The other cards that fell around it, though, didn’t make sense. He was surrounding himself with…family? But he didn’t have family. He was a loner. Someone was conspiring against him. He was in danger in the near future, but also… “Right now.” Roxy jumped to her feet, raced to her bedroom and pulled on clothes just as fast as she could. A flowing skirt, a clingy Lycra top, a pair of bamboo sandals. She hoped it was a warm night, and pulled on a black felt shawl as she raced outside, deciding the car was a far better option than the van. She didn’t know exactly where he was. But they had a bond, and she was counting on it to guide her to him. God, just let it be in time. Vampires, she thought, rolling her eyes. Sometimes they were more trouble than they were worth. “It’s going to be daylight soon,” Reaper said. “Can you feel it?” Seth frowned, and searched his senses. “I feel…something.” “Describe it.” “It’s kind of…dense. Heavy.” “Yes, that’s the lethargy. Be aware of it, always. You must never be caught by the sun’s rays. They’ll burn you alive, Seth.” “Okay,” Seth said as the vampire steered the car onto an exit ramp. “So we’re gonna find someplace to hole up for the day, then?” “Yes. Tonight will be soon enough to visit this vampiress.” “Cool.” Seth supplanted his impatience by conjuring images in his mind of where they would spend the day. Some crumbling ruin, an abandoned warehouse, maybe a crypt in a cemetery. “So tell me something, will you?” he asked. “I might.” “How long have you been a vampire? I mean, are you, like, centuries old?” “Do I seem old to you?” “Well, you seem pretty wise and pretty powerful, so yeah. I guess that makes you fairly old. That’s not an insult, is it? I mean, to a vampire?” “Age is power. To call a vampire old is to call him powerful. It’s not an insult.” “So?” Reaper looked at him, narrowed his eyes, then nodded once. “I’ve been a vampire for a little more than a decade.” “Who made you?” Tipping his head to one side, Reaper seemed to study him, then said, “I suppose I had all the same questions when I was newly made. I wanted to know if the way I’d been brought over was unique or fairly common, what others had experienced, how many of us there were and how far back we went.” “So? You gonna tell me?” “I don’t know how many of us there are. I don’t know how far back we go, though I’ve heard at least as far as there has been recorded history, and beyond that, who can say? I can tell you about my transformation, though.” “Yeah?” He nodded. “I worked for…the government. In a covert capacity.” “You said you were an assassin,” Seth reminded him. “Military? CIA?” “I could tell you, but then—” “You’d have to kill me.” Seth grinned. “You actually made a joke.” “Just because I don’t use it often, doesn’t mean I lack the capacity for humor,” Reaper pointed out. “At any rate, I was on assignment in the Middle East, and I was ambushed by a small, disorganized band of extremists. They got lucky. I took a dozen bullets, maybe more. They left me for dead, lying on a dusty street in Syria. The shooting spree had frightened any potential on-lookers into hiding. I was alone and dancing with death right then. And that’s when she came.” “She?” Reaper smiled a wistful smile when he said the name. “Rhiannon. Most incredible creature you’ve ever seen. You want old, that one’s old. Her father was a freaking pharaoh.” “No way.” “I swear. Her real name was Rianikki, the way I hear it. She changes it every few centuries when she gets bored. And she gets bored easily. She’s got a hair-trigger temper and paper-thin patience and a black panther for a pet.” Seth smiled slowly, fascinated, dying to hear more. “So she leans over me, and she says to me, ‘I was honestly having a wonderful evening—it’s open mike night at the Kazbah, you know. But you had to go and get yourself shot, didn’t you? You couldn’t have waited? Even another hour?’ “Hell, I couldn’t talk. I just lay there with my mouth open, wondering if I was hallucinating her, or if she were an angel, or maybe a demon, come to take me to the other side. But she keeps talking. She says, ‘You’re gonna be dead in about a minute, my friend, so you need to think fast. You can become a vampire, like me, and live. Or you can die. And I’d take time to explain to you all that being a vampire entails, but there’s no time. Some of the mythology is true, some isn’t. All in all, I think it’s a wonderful existence. Eternal youth, strength and ever-increasing power. No more sunlight, but that’s a small price.’ “I really thought I was losing it. But she just leans closer and says, ‘Time’s up. Yes or no?’ I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. And then she said, ‘Fuck it, then. I guess I get to decide.’ And she sank her teeth into me, and—Well, you can figure out the rest. I woke up a vampire.” “Wow. That’s…that’s incredible. Is she—is she around here? Will I ever get to meet her?” “I have no doubt you’ll cross paths with Rhiannon one day. But no, she’s not in the area at the moment. I took on this mission partly so she wouldn’t have to. She has…other things going on that need her attention right now.” Seth frowned as Reaper stopped the car at a traffic light and put on his left-turn signal, which would take them into the parking lot of a Motel 6. He blinked, and said, “You’re kidding, right?” “About what? Rhiannon being too busy for this right now?” “This,” Seth said. “You’re serious? We’re staying here?” “Why not?” “Well…I don’t know. What about the windows? Won’t the sun get in and toast us?” Reaper reached into the backseat for what looked like a gym bag. “Duct tape and heavy black fabric. I never travel without it.” “Note to self. Get a gym bag and watch reruns of MacGyver.” Reaper frowned at him, clearly not getting the joke. Seth just shrugged. “Never mind.” The signal changed, giving them a green arrow to make their left-hand turn. Dropping the bag, Reaper turned the wheel and pressed on the gas. Neither of them saw the semi coming until it hit them, and then there was nothing but noise, shattering glass, groaning metal, squealing tires, the stench of hot rubber and a whole lot of hurt. A crowd was gathering by the time Seth opened his eyes, picked up his head and tried to get his bearings. A woman was making her way through the bystanders, coming closer, shouting at them to get the hell out of her way. Seth couldn’t see her. There was smoke and it was kind of— Smoke. Hell, that couldn’t be good. Seth turned in his seat to mention it to his companion, but Reaper was out cold, and Seth smelled blood, thick on the air. “Oh, shit. Reap, come on, man. Wake up.” He shook the limp shoulders, but nothing worked. Then he saw where the blood was coming from. A jagged piece of metal was sticking out of Reaper’s thigh, blood oozing from around it. The woman who’d been doing all the shouting was closer now, rapping on his window. “Get out of there! It’s gonna go up.” “Give me a sec.” He released his seat belt, then Reaper’s, then took his belt out of his belt loops, wrapped it around Reaper’s thigh, just above the wound, and pulled it tight. Any tighter and he would have risked busting the femur. Gritting his teeth, he yanked the metal out. Blood oozed all the same. He had to stop it. Hands pounded the glass again. “You need to get out now.” He ignored the woman, grabbed the duffel bag, and wrestled with it until he got the duct tape out. Then he tore off a piece with his teeth and used it to tape the gaping skin together. A second piece, and a third for good measure. The smoke was thicker now. His lungs were burning. The woman was tugging on the passenger door, but it wasn’t giving. The driver’s door was no good, either, mashed up against a telephone pole. He leaned back, braced his feet against the door, and yelled at the woman to stand back. She did, and he kicked with both feet. The door popped open, almost easily. Hell, he’d forgotten about how much stronger he was now. He put his back to Reaper, pulled the man’s arms around his shoulders from behind, and, with people reaching in, pulling to help, he managed to get them both out of the car. They’d moved about thirty feet away, into the darkness lit only by the glowing lights of other vehicles, when Reaper’s car blew to hell and gone, the explosion knocking Seth to his knees, with Reaper still on his back. And then that woman was there. “Come on, boy. Come with me. Daylight’s on the way, and so are the police and paramedics.” Seth stared at her, shocked. How could she know daylight was their enemy? She had long carrot-orange hair—not coppery, like his dream girl—that curled from top to bottom, and it was impossible to guess her age. There was something about her, some familiar feeling, almost like a scent. “You’re just a fledgling, aren’t you?” she asked Seth. “I’m Roxy. I’m one of the Chosen—that’s what you’re sensing. Raphael is my friend.” “His name is—” “Raphael Rivera, aka Reaper. And only his best friend would know that. Now, come with me, while they’re all distracted by the explosion. Hurry.” She helped him to his feet, Reaper still on his back, and led him toward her waiting car, shouting, “I’m a doctor, clear the way! I’m a doctor!” as she went. She opened the back door, and Seth eased Reaper in, onto the rear seat. The bleeding hadn’t started up again, so Seth got into the front, and then Roxy was behind the wheel, driving so fast that Seth felt himself gripping the dash until his knuckles turned white. Reaper moaned from the backseat when she took a corner too fast; then he spoke. “Roxy?” “Yeah, it’s me.” “No one else drives like that.” She laughed softly. “Are we being followed, Roxy?” She glanced up into the rearview mirror. “What do you think I am, an amateur? Why?” “Because that was no accident. It was a vampire—not quite a normal vampire, but a vampire all the same—driving that rig that hit us. And it was deliberate. ” Roxy frowned and swore, using a streak of profanity Seth had never heard from the mouth of a female in his life. Then she said, “Who are you going after this time?” “A rogue gang led by a man called Gregor.” “Those assholes?” She shook her head. “What do you know about them?” Reaper asked. Roxy shrugged. “Only what I’ve heard. They’re skilled, they’re mean, and they outnumber you.” “You know where they are?” Reaper asked. “No. But when you leave to find them, I’m going along.” “Absolutely not.” She met his eyes and smiled, a slow, sexy smile that seemed to speak volumes. “You’re telling me no? Since when has that ever worked?” Reaper closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto the seat of the car. “Who are you?” Seth asked her at last. She smiled. “I’m Roxy. I’m the oldest living human with the Belladonna antigen. At least, as far as I know.” Seth lifted his brows. “But I thought we—they all got weak and sick and died young.” “All but me.” “How old are you?” he asked. She fluttered her lashes. “How old do you want me to be?” Seth’s throat went dry, and Roxy released a bark of laughter and slapped her own thigh. “Don’t worry, pup. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” She gave him a wink, then bobbed her head toward the windshield. “Here we are.” Roxy’s place was a tiny cottage that looked like something out of a child’s fairy tale, all cobblestones and little green shutters, flower boxes overflowing with fragrant herbs, gardens flowing like colorful streams around the place and between the flat stones that formed a meandering path to the front door. She parked her car and glanced nervously at the sky. “Best get him inside, son, before dawn.” “I can manage on my own,” Reaper said. But his voice sounded so weak and pain-racked that Seth thought he might as well have said, “I can’t lift my little finger without help right now.” “Fortunately,” Roxy said, “you don’t have to manage on your own. You’ve got Seth now.” She smiled at Seth, and there was so much affection in the look that he wasn’t sure if she was hitting on him or just being friendly. The woman was a puzzle. He had no idea how to take her. He didn’t ask, though. Just got out, opened the back door and got a grip on Reaper’s shoulders, so he could help him inside. “Right through here,” Roxy instructed. From the waist down she was wearing a long, flowing skirt in bright splashy colors. From the waist up, she wore what looked like a leotard. Skintight, revealing a figure that was close to perfect, short-sleeved, with a V-neck all plumped full of cleavage. A moonstone glittered from a long chain, resting between her breasts. She jingled when she moved, and he realized it was due to the ankle bracelet she wore, along with flat, woven sandals that looked to be made of straw or something. Seth looked at her face again, baffled by his inability to guess her age. She just smiled more warmly and tipped her head, so her hair fell over one cheek. “This way. Put him in the guest room. It’s actually a walk-in closet, but I keep a bed made up in there for my undead friends.” She opened a door and stood aside to let Seth pass, with Reaper’s arm drawn around his shoulders. Reaper was silent, except for little grunts of pain every time he put weight on his leg. Seth figured it was taking all the guy had just to stay conscious at this point. He helped Reaper ease his way onto the twin bed that sat at the back of the large-closet-slash-minuscule-bedroom. Roxy hurried away, then came back a second later with a porcelain basin full of water and a basket full of other items. She sat down on the edge of the bed, put the stuff on the nightstand, then went to work with a pair of scissors, snipping the leg off Reaper’s pants, so she could better get to the wound. “Duct tape,” she said, eyeing the patch-up job Seth had done. “Hell, I don’t know if I can even improve on this. It’s not bleeding.” “And it’ll heal as soon as the sun comes up, right?” Seth asked. Roxy nodded, dipped her washcloth in the basin and began washing the drying blood off Reaper’s thigh. “You should drink, Raphael. You’re as weak as a kitten from the blood loss.” Reaper met her eyes, then shifted his gaze to her neck, where it lingered and became suddenly intense. Seth felt hot under the collar and thought maybe he should leave the room. Roxy said, “In your dreams, Raphael. I have bags in the fridge. I can heat it first, if you’re craving a little warmth, though.” She glanced at Seth. “Come with me, and I’ll get you some, too. And then you’d best get to the basement. There’s another bedroom down there. You’ll be safe and comfortable.” Seth nodded, still not clear on what the relationship was between Reaper and Roxy. They seemed close. Almost intimate. He wanted to ask but sensed he wouldn’t get an answer. And it was none of his business, anyway. He followed Roxy into the kitchen. She stopped at the fridge, turned and faced him. “He’s not going to want you to stay with him.” “I know.” “You have to stay anyway. He’s going to need you, Seth.” Seth frowned, searching her face. She had eyes as deep and dark blue as sapphires glittering up from the depths of the sea. They were fringed by the longest black velvet lashes he’d ever seen on a woman, and all that hair, all that long, curly red hair, seemed too soft to be real. “Are you listening, Seth? This is important.” He focused on her eyes again. “I’m listening. He’s going to need me. But how can you know that?” “Look around, Seth.” He did. The place was cozy and completely cluttered. There were bundles of herbs hanging upside down from every possible location in the kitchen and beyond it, in the little dining room and the sitting room, which were really one very large room with two parts. He saw a crystal ball on a glass pedestal all by itself. Incense was burning, sending spirals of fragrant smoke throughout the place. Chimes and sun-catchers and plants hung near every window. The dining-room table was covered with tarot cards, spread out in a mystical and complicated pattern, their images graphic and somehow disturbing. Seth took it all in, and then returned his attention to her. “I know,” she said. “The same way I knew to be where I was when you had that accident that wasn’t quite an accident. I know him. I’ve known him since he was a little boy at the hematology clinic where we were both patients. I already knew I had the Belladonna antigen. And I knew what it meant, though the doctors didn’t. I was a student of the occult and the paranormal even then, you see. An expert already. Raphael didn’t know anything. He was just a child with hemophilia and a rare blood type. I’ve been watching over him ever since.” “Kind of the opposite of the way it’s supposed to work, huh?” Seth asked. “I mean, don’t vamps ordinarily watch over the Chosen?” “There’s nothing ordinary about me, young man. And you’ll never meet one of the Chosen who’s anything like me.” “I totally believe you.” That comment brought a quick smile to her lips. Full lips. Moist. Nice white teeth behind them, too. Little laugh lines appeared at the corners of her eyes when she smiled, and when her expression turned serious again, he could still see the tiniest traces of them. “I’m going with you on this mission, Seth,” she said. “Raphael is a loner, and he’s going to fight us. But he has two partners now, and we aren’t going to take no for an answer, are we?” “I owe him my life. And this mission is leading me someplace I need to be. So, yeah, I’m in.” He thrust out a hand. “Shake on it.” Roxy smiled slowly, and closed her hand around his. She squeezed, and said, “Mmm. Strong. I like that.” She released his hand, handed him a glass and said, “Come on, Seth. I’ll take you to bed now.” He thought his feet would be glued to the floor, but they moved to follow her as she pushed open a door and descended a set of stairs down into the dark basement. He watched the sway of her hips, the play of her long thick hair over her shoulders, and he wasn’t sure whether he was hoping for or fearing whatever might happen at the bottom. Sure, she wasn’t his dream woman. But she sure as hell was something. It didn’t matter, though. She simply pushed open another door, flipped on a light and stood aside to let him pass. He walked into the room that was to be his. She said, “Good rest, Seth. And don’t worry about Raphael. I’ll see to it he’s safe until sundown.” “Good night,” he said, out of long habit. He was going to have to stop doing that, he thought. A vampire should say good day or good rest or something, not good-night, not when he was forever going to sleep in the morning. Roxy stepped out of the room and closed the door. Seth thought she had to be old enough to be his mother. He also thought he could develop a serious case of lust for her, if he let himself. He got undressed and slid into the bed. But as the day sleep came in like a dark wave to claim him, it wasn’t Roxy’s face he was seeing in his mind’s eye. It was that other face, that frightened, innocent face with the exotic eyes pleading for his help. 5 Reaper was lying in the bed, as instructed, surrounded by the freshly laundered scents of the white sheets and leopard-print comforter, when Roxy returned with his sustenance. She handed him the glass, and he drank and prayed she didn’t want to stay and talk until the sun came up. She sat down on the bed, though, so he figured he was doomed. Still, it wouldn’t be more than a few minutes before dawn came and saved him from her knowing, probing mind. “You’re fuming,” she said. “I don’t like being attacked by my own kind.” “Bullshit. You relish a good battle. You’re fuming because you needed help tonight.” He slid her a look. “Don’t go there. I didn’t need help.” “No? You know you would have died in that car, Raphael. You were bleeding out, unconscious and about to go up in flames. Your stubborn fledgling hunk refused to leave, even though he could have been toast.” He nodded. “You don’t have to sing his praises to me, Roxy. I know he has the soul of a hero.” “Really?” She seemed surprised to hear him say something nice about Seth. “You think I would make a vampire out of an ordinary human? Even one with the antigen? No, he’s special.” “I agree. You, um, might wanna think about telling him that.” “And let it go straight to his head? Please.” “You’re a mean bastard, you know that?” “I’m mean? Could you have teased the poor kid any harder, do you think?” She shrugged. “I was only being myself.” “Right. It’s not your fault young men want you.” “All men want me, hon. Young, old, humans, vampires. There are dead men who want me. Is it any surprise your young Seth wants me, too?” “Don’t—” She shot him a look, a dangerous one. And he knew better than to presume to tell Roxy, the most independent female on the planet, not to sleep with his pain-in-the-ass charge. She slept with whomever she wanted. And God help anyone who presumed to judge her for it. He licked his lips and started over. “Don’t break his heart, okay?” “I’m not planning to jump him, Raphael. He’s got important work to do, and a night of my incredible body would only distract and confuse him.” “Important work, huh?” “Hell, yeah. He’s on a mission, that one. I don’t know what it is—don’t think he does, either—but it’s practically sparking from his aura. Something big is in store for him.” “So he keeps telling me.” “Believe him.” She got up from the bed. “Sleep, now. At sundown, the van will be packed and ready to go.” “Roxy—” “You don’t have wheels of your own anymore,” she reminded him. “You can’t go on foot, after all.” “I can get a car.” She shrugged. “Fine, get one. I’ll follow you.” She reached out a hand, as if about to lay it over his, but then she hesitated, because she knew he disliked touching unnecessarily. Drawing her hand away, she went on. “I know you hate accepting help, Raphael, but you’d damn well better believe me when I tell you that just this once, you need it. I feel it all the way to my gut. You’ll die if you don’t let Seth and me go with you.” “And you and Seth could die if I do.” “We won’t—” He reached out and grabbed her hand, maybe just to show her how damn serious he was about this. “You know what I’m capable of, Roxy. You’re the only one who knows. Anyone who’s near me for any amount of time is at risk.” “All the more reason to take me along. I won’t let you hurt him. Or me. Believe me, I can handle you.” “No, you can’t.” He released her hand. The sleep was coming on strong and fast, but he had more to say. “I’d planned to come to see you while I was here. I’d planned to ask you to keep Seth, teach him until he’s ready to be on his own.” “Yeah, I already figured that out. But it’s not going to work. We’re going with you. If you’re so worried that you might hurt us, then I’ll see to it we’re both armed.” “You wouldn’t be willing to shoot me. I know you—” His eyes fell closed. He opened them again. “You’d be too afraid of killing me.” Again his eyes closed. “You let me worry about that. As if I’d hesitate to kick your oversized ass to the grave and back if I thought you were gonna hurt me. Hell, Raphael, don’t kid yourself. Now, get some sleep.” He tried to reply, but the sleep was on him before he could make a sound. Vixen waited in the cell, wondering what was taking so long. She still wasn’t sure she could do what they asked of her, but she couldn’t stand any more torture. Why these people delighted in causing pain, she could not fathom. Their footsteps came, just minutes before dawn. Briar was not alone this time. The one called Jack was with her. Longish brown hair, shot through with streaks of blond, parted on one side, so that it tended to fall over his eyes. An unshaven look that was always just that. Never more, never less. As if he meant it to be that way. Light blue eyes, almost shockingly pale. Jack looked at her, smiled slyly, shook his head slowly. “Damn, she is a pretty thing, isn’t she?” He stuck his arm between the bars of her cage and made smacking sounds with his lips, like calling a pet. “Come here, hon. Let me feel that silky hair, hmm?” She backed up to the far wall, her eyes wide and darting from Jack to Briar. Of the two, it was the female she most feared. “Fine,” Jack said. “Your loss, babe.” Then he turned to Briar. “So what is it you wanted to show me?” “She’s not human.” “No, not anymore. Not since Gregor changed her.” Briar shook her head. “Not even before. She’s a shape-shifter. Spent half her time as an animal.” Jack grinned. “Right. Briar, have you been feeding on crack addicts tonight or what?” “Gregor knows. That’s why he wanted her. He had me stake out the places where she tends to show up when she’s in human form and tell him her habits, so he could follow her. He set a trap, caught her in it when she was an animal, then waited for her to shift back and transformed her.” Slowly Jack’s smile died. “He didn’t make you do it for him? You know, he didn’t have you suck her blood and then make her drink yours…?” “No,” she said with a disgusted look. Jack pushed a hand through his long hair and shook his head. “Damn, that would’ve been hot.” “She’s a shape-shifter. Are you even getting this?” He shrugged, then looked at Vixen. Then, frowning, he really looked at her. His brows drew together. “Vixen. And that hair. And those eyes.” He glanced at Briar again. “You saying she’s some kind of a fox?” “Pull your hair back, Vixen. Show him.” Vixen lowered her head, but not in shame, for she knew no such thing as shame. But she hated defeat. She hated obeying the girl with the blackest heart in all the world. Still, she pulled her hair back, and Jack looked, and then his brows shot up. “Are her ears slightly…pointed?” “Mmm-hmm. And now she’s going to try to shift back into her animal form. If she can still do it, she can be of invaluable help to Gregor. I mean, can you imagine the places she could get into where we couldn’t fit? Hell, we could set her loose inside a bank, then have her shift back and let us in after closing.” “Gregor’s got more money than God already.” “You can never be too rich,” Briar said. “You ready, Vixen?” “I think so.” “Then do it.” Vixen nodded and sank down onto the floor. She lay down on her side and pulled her long, copper hair around her face. She closed her eyes and pretended to will her form to change. But in fact, she wasn’t willing it at all. She didn’t know if she could change, but she wasn’t going to do it just for them. Especially not for Briar. She had to wait, because she wasn’t sure she could fit between the bars. So she had to wait. She lay there for several minutes. “Dammit, Vixen, do it,” Briar snapped. “I’m trying…” “This is bullshit. She ain’t a damn fox.” “She is, I’m telling you. Do it, Vixen!” Vixen said nothing, just lay there, trembling, because she could feel Briar’s anger, and when that one got angry, it didn’t go well. “You are gonna be so fucking sorry,” Briar whispered. Vixen heard the keys in her cell door. Yes. Finally. Vixen focused. She honed her energy and saw herself in her mind’s eye as a fox, running free, and then she felt her body shrinking, growing smaller, vanishing into her long protective hair, until the hair was her tail, curled around her body like a warm coat and covering her face. She’d changed. Just as Briar swung the cell door open and came charging inside, probably to hurt and punish her, she sprang onto her toes, her clothes falling away behind her, and darted right out of the cell, racing between Briar’s feet, dashing past Jack, who jumped and dodged her as if in fear for his life. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she heard him say as she raced past. “Don’t just stand there laughing, get the damn thing!” She didn’t know which way to go and sought wildly for some means of escape. There! The door, and that gap in the bottom. Please, let her fit! She ran up to it. Then the door swung open, and the master himself stepped in. She darted fast, intending to race between his feet and outside before the door swung closed, but Gregor was faster. He grabbed her by the tail as she rushed past and lifted her high. “Well! So she can still do it after all!” Vixen twisted her little body around, and sank her claws into his arm and her teeth into his hand. She sucked blood from him as he howled, and a hunger reared up inside her such as she had never known. They’d been starving her to keep her weak. She drank all she could before he flung her away so hard that her body slammed into the stone wall and sank to the floor. Energy spent, she felt herself changing again, becoming a woman. A vampiress. She lay there, naked, her head aching, her tailbone throbbing, the taste of Gregor’s blood on her lips. “Jack, toss her back into the cell. Briar, you have some explaining to do.” “I didn’t mean to let her get out,” she began. “Not about that. I understand you sent one of the drones on an assignment last night, without clearing it with me first.” Jack scooped Vixen up into his arms, and she remained limp, not because she was acting, but because she was exhausted, half starved and in pain. He seemed to try to be gentle with her, as he carried her into her cell and lowered her down onto the cot that was the only piece of furniture. “You said this person, this hit-man vampire, was coming after you,” Briar said. “I caught wind of where he was, and I didn’t see any reason to delay and risk losing track of him again. So, yeah, I sent a drone to take him out.” “Well, the drone failed. Any task that takes thought isn’t exactly their forte. But that’s irrelevant. Next time, Briar, do not even think about giving orders. I’m in charge here, not you. You have no authority.” “But…but—” Vixen heard pain in the dark one’s voice. She was hurt and confused. The black-hearted bitch deserved it—and more. “The thing is, Briar, I want him to come after me. I need him. Alive.” Briar blinked slowly. “Well, you could have just told me that.” “Easy, Briar,” Jack said. “Haven’t you figured him out by now? He operates on a need-to-know basis. And you didn’t need to know. Just like I didn’t need to know about our guest here and her special abilities.” He looked at Gregor. “Even though I’m his right-hand man. Right, Gregor?” Gregor shrugged, but the look in his eyes was chilling. “You complaining, Jack?” “Not me. Not a chance. You’re driving this rig, and I’m content to sit in the passenger seat and ride along. Always have been.” Gregor grunted but said nothing more. Instead, he looked down at his hand, which was dripping blood. “Briar, come with me and patch this thing up before I bleed out. Damn. Good thing it’s almost dawn. Jack, you see to the vixen here. Make sure she’s staying put for the day. We can use her.” He took Briar by the arm, and left the horrible underworld where Vixen was forced to exist on stale air and darkness. Jack closed the cage door, double-checked the locks, and then she heard his footsteps moving away. She expected that to be the end of her torment, but no. Only moments later, she heard his return, caught his scent. Her cage opened once more. If she’d had the energy, she would have shifted again and tried to escape. But she was so tired. She opened her eyes, saw Jack come closer. He was hesitant, as if he were approaching an animal that might bite, which was probably wise of him, because that was what she was. His gaze kept lowering, sliding down her nude body, but he seemed to be trying to keep it from doing so. She didn’t feel any shame about her form, or any shyness. It was just a body, after all. He had a blanket and pillow under one arm, and a glass of red liquid in his free hand. He held the glass out. She took it, noting how quickly he jerked his hand back. Sniffing, she wrinkled her nose, but drank, too hungry to be fussy. Then she handed the glass back to him, and he gave her the pillow and blanket. She tucked the pillow under her head, spread the blanket over her and curled onto her side. “You’re welcome,” he said, an odd tone in his voice. She frowned and lifted her head to look at him. “When someone does something nice for you, Foxy, it’s customary to say thank-you. And then they say, ‘you’re welcome.’” “Oh. And you consider bringing me this blanket and pillow and that blood, to be nice?” “Well, yeah.” “I’m being kept prisoner in a cage against my will. If you want to be nice, let me go.” He lowered his head. “Man, I can’t do that. Gregor would have my hide.” “Then don’t expect my thanks.” He shrugged, turned slowly and started to walk out of her cage, but then he stopped. “If you’d escaped tonight, you would have died, you know.” She frowned and looked up at him. “You’re a vampire now. It’s almost daylight. If you go outside in the sun, it’ll burn you alive. We can’t tolerate it, Foxy.” She blinked three times, weighing his words. “Are you saying this so that I’ll be too afraid to try to run away again?” “Why would you be? You’d just try it by night.” “Are you forgetting that I’m in this place where I can’t tell day from night?” “Sure you can. When day comes, you fall asleep. It’s irresistible. You feel that coming on, you know it’s almost morning. When you wake again, it’s just past sundown. Understand?” Tilting her head to one side, she said, “Why are you helping me?” One corner of his mouth pulled into a half smile. “I have a weakness for pretty women. And you are a—Well, hell, you’re a fox.” She frowned at him, unsure why he was stating the obvious, but he just touched his forehead as if it were a way of saying goodbye and turned to leave her alone. He locked her cage again on his way out, though, the bastard. 6 “This thing is going to get us noticed—and probably killed—before we get within a dozen miles of Gregor’s band,” Reaper said, eyeing the vehicle Roxy had pulled out of her garage—where it had been, understandably, hidden—and parked in front of her house. He wore a look of distaste mingled with utter horror. The customized conversion van was something to behold, and while Seth believed Reaper was a miserable curmudgeon about a lot of matters, he totally agreed with him on this one. “No,” Reaper said. “Absolutely not.” Roxy glanced at Seth, as if seeking a second opinion. “Well, it’s not exactly…inconspicuous.” He wondered for just a second if he would be just as tactful if she wasn’t such a hotty, then wondered why it mattered. She certainly didn’t seem to care. Shirley—and that was the van’s name, as its custom license plates attested—was yellow. Canary yellow. Its—her?—sides sported murals depicting fields full of sunflowers, and the rear window was decorated with a translucent sunset. “She’s just what we need,” Roxy said. “Look, we can rent a car or something for short trips once we get where we’re going. But for getting there, and for emergencies, she’s freakin’ damn near perfect. Just look here.” She pulled open the side door. There were four rows of seats, all sporting black seat covers with giant sunflowers in the center of each one. They matched the floor mats. Of course they did. Seth managed not to groan aloud as he poked his head in, then stepped up. The van was tall. Most people would be able to stand up in it, though for Seth and Reaper it required significant stooping. “There are only three of us,” Seth said. “Why do we need all this room?” “Never mind that,” Roxy said quickly. “Take a look at this.” She went around to the back, opened the two rear doors, climbed in and pushed a button. The rear-most seats folded forward and down, then lower, tucking themselves neatly into the floor. Then Roxy lifted a piece of floor mat, tugged a handle hidden beneath it and the floor folded up, revealing a nearly full-sized bed underneath. She met Seth’s eyes and grinned. “Built-in coffins. This baby can sleep three vampires under the floor, well hidden. And we could close the floor over them, and put three more on top, because the windows tint all the way to black at the touch of a button.” Seth glanced at Reaper and saw that the man was impressed in spite of himself. There was a slight edge of approval nudging its way into his grimace. “There’s a minifridge,” Roxy said with a nod, “so we can take a supply of that Kool-Aid you guys love so much. Her sides are reinforced steel. Bullet-proof. She’s got a Hemi under the hood, and all-wheel drive so we don’t get stuck. Big ground clearance for a van. She gets terrible gas mileage, but let me tell you, Shirley will fly. And to top it all off…” She moved to the center of the van, gripped a handle mounted to the inside of the sliding side door and lifted. The inner panel of the door slid upward, revealing a cache of weapons stored behind it. Shotguns, rifles, handguns and several odd-looking little weapons that looked like dart guns. Boxes of ammo lined a number of small built-in shelves, and holsters and clips hung every which way. “What are those little ones?” Seth asked. “I call ’em Noisy Crickets,” she told him. Seth laughed out loud, shaking his head, and muttering, “Good one, Roxy,” between chuckles. He was just getting it under control when he noticed that Reaper hadn’t so much as cracked a smile. “That was a reference to Men in Black,” he told the sour-faced vamp. “The movie? You know, Will Smith, Tommy Lee Jones?” No reaction. “Hell, don’t you see movies at all?” “No.” Roxy handed one of the tiny weapons to Seth and took a second one off the wall for herself. “These shoot tranquilizer darts. I have a supply in the fridge, measured, loaded and ready to go. Seth, the only way Reaper will agree to let us come with him is if I can convince him that you and I will be perfectly safe. And the only way I can think of to do that is to give him our word that we will each carry one of these with us at all times. It needs to be loaded, and we need to carry spare ammo on hand.” Seth took the tiny weapon and turned it this way and that, looking it over. It seemed pretty simple and straightforward. “Why do we need tranquilizer darts? You guys expecting to run into a herd of angry elephants or something?” “Those darts aren’t for animals, Seth,” Roxy explained. “They’re for vamps. They’re doped with the only tranquilizer that will work on you guys. The only one I know of, at least.” Seth frowned, then nodded. “I guess we could use it against the rogue vampires if we had to. Yeah. Not a bad idea.” He looked at Reaper again. The man was oddly silent. “Don’t you want to carry one, Reap?” “The tranquilizer isn’t to protect you from the rogues, Seth. It’s to protect you from me.” Seth started to laugh, thinking the miserable fuck had actually made a joke. But there was a grimness in his tone, a darkness in his eyes, that had the laugh dying in Seth’s throat before it was even born. His smile faded, and he searched Reaper’s face. “What the hell are you talking about?” Reaper lowered his gaze. “I’m not going to go into detail or bare my soul or my history or my flaws to you, Seth. This is not up for discussion. It’s my personal business, and it’s off-limits. I will only say that if I should ever turn on you in an apparently mindless burst of violent rage, you will need to act and act fast, or die. If it happens—if it even looks like it’s happening—use the tranquilizer. Don’t hesitate.” Seth opened his mouth, then closed it again as question after question tried to get out. Why would Reaper turn on him? What the hell was he talking about? Did he have some kind of split personality-Jekyll-and-Hyde thing going on, or a brain tumor or what? But Reaper wasn’t going to tell him any more. He’d made that clear. So Seth settled on one question, the only one he thought might elicit an answer. “Can the tranq do you any lasting harm?” Reaper looked at Roxy for the answer. “No,” she said, and she said it firmly, with a shake of her head that had all that long hair swinging. “It’ll knock him cold, and he’ll wake up with a hell of a hangover. That’s all.” Seth nodded and faced Reaper again. The guy looked really miserable. As if even broaching this subject was ripping into his guts, and Seth hated that. He needed to lighten things up. “Okay, then. I got it. I just need you to make me one promise.” “And what would that be?” Reaper asked. “If I misread you and shoot you by mistake when you weren’t actually intending to eat me for lunch, you can’t be mad at me when you wake up.” Reaper scowled at him. “Dude, I’m serious here. If I have to worry about being wrong and pissing you off, I’ll hesitate, and you’ll have time to rip me a new one before I pull the trigger. So you have to promise.” Eyes narrowed, Reaper nodded. “All right. I promise.” Seth grinned. “Man, this is great. You so much as look at me funny, I get to pop you with the Noisy Cricket. And you can’t even get mad about it. You are so gonna regret this.” “Seth.” It was a warning, Reaper’s tone dangerous. “Whoa, that sounded menacing. Did it sound menacing to you, Roxy?” Seth glanced at the gun in his hand. “Maybe I should shoot him now.” Reaper glared at him. Seth lowered the weapon and wiped the grin off his face. As usual, his attempts at humor were hitting a brick wall. “Hey, come on. I was kidding. I’m not gonna pop you with this thing. Come on, man, don’t look like that.” Sighing, not saying a single word to Seth, Reaper climbed into the van and took a seat all the way in the rear. “Let’s get going, Roxy. We need to see this Topaz woman before we can go any farther.” Roxy handed Seth a holster. She was already wearing one of her own, with a tranq gun tucked into it. Then she closed the weapon door and climbed up into the driver’s seat. Seth took the one beside her. As she backed the van out of the driveway, Seth glanced at her and whispered, “I was kidding.” “Hey, I thought it was funny as hell.” He smiled, relieved. “Does he ever lighten up, Roxy?” “Not that I’ve ever seen. But I’ll tell you one thing.” “What’s that?” “You’re good for him. Real good.” “Hell, he can barely stand me.” “Trust me, I know these things.” Reaper sat up straighter in his far backseat and said, “People, I am a vampire. I have preternatural hearing. I could listen to your entire conversation from a half mile away. From here, it’s as if you’re on a loudspeaker.” Roxy looked over her shoulder at him and said, “Fuck you, Raphael.” Then she grinned and sent Seth a wink. “Yep, you’re gonna be good for him.” Topaz had packed several bags and dressed to kill. She wore a short skintight black dress, with a chain-link belt draped around her hips, black thigh-high stockings with seams up the back and lace on the top, and opentoed spike heels with straps that criss-crossed once, encircled her leg just above the ankle and buckled there. They had twenty-four-karat gold heart charms dangling from their straps. Her hair was sleek and smooth, and her makeup perfect. She looked so good that Jack would probably weep when he saw her. Bastard. She was stacking her bags near the mansion’s front door when she felt the presence of another vampire—no, two of them—nearby. And one of the Chosen, as well. Instinctively, she ducked to one side of the door, to get out of plain sight, and peered out the window. Yes, three people, two men and a woman, were standing near the end of her curving white gravel drive, just waiting there. She squinted, and spoke with her mind. Come any closer and you’ll regret it. The reply came immediately, from a man she didn’t know. We only want to talk to you. It won’t take long, and we’re no threat. And I’m supposed to take your word for that? Any vampire who trusted unmet, undead strangers was asking for trouble, Topaz thought. And she was not stupid. I wasn’t transformed yesterday, you know. We need to ask a few questions, that’s all. It’s about a man who calls himself Jack of Hearts. Her reaction was so instinctive that she couldn’t hide it. A surge of emotions—passion, pain, desire, anger—all twisted up into one ball of feeling, just welled up and burst from her, and she wasn’t quick enough or disciplined enough to hide it in time. She knew they’d felt it. Damn. She tried to pretend it hadn’t happened, tried to move quickly past it, but she knew she wasn’t fooling them. Why do you want to know about him? Because I’m looking for the leader of the rogue gang he’s rumored to be running with. They’re dangerous, Topaz. Deadly, to humans and vampires alike. They’re even hostile toward the Chosen, or at least that’s what the rumors claim. I need to know all I can about them before I get too close. She swallowed the sudden dryness in her throat and looked at her bags. She’d been just about to go storming into the midst of a rogue gang? A murderous rogue gang who killed their own kind? Jack was running with a rogue gang? That was so not Jack. And damn, from what she knew about rogue vampires, she was pretty sure she could have gotten herself killed tonight. Sighing, she opened the front doors and stood between them, staring down the driveway at the three who waited there. “Come in, then,” she called. “Since you may have just saved my life, I suppose I owe you a favor.” Seth saw the woman standing in between the open doors. She was backlit, and the total effect was as if some kind of goddess had just flung open the doors to heaven and invited them in. Her shape was willowy, slender, graceful. Long arms and legs, long neck, long hair. Gorgeous. And yet his first reaction to seeing her there was one of almost crippling disappointment. She wasn’t the woman he’d been searching for. He could have wept, but instead, he lifted his chin, determined to press on. The sense that he was closer to her than ever, and still on the right path, was the most comfort he was going to get right now. So he clung to that and got on with the business at hand. They trooped up the driveway, and he was finally able to see more than just her silhouette. She was of medium height, with the youthful face of a prom queen. Her hair was long, perfectly straight, satiny smooth and the color of melted milk chocolate—the same color as her eyes. She had Cupid’s bow lips, high cheekbones and a dimple in her chin. She was beautiful, in the most classic definition of the word. “My name is Reaper,” the boss said, but when she reached out to shake his hand, he just stuck his into his pocket, ignoring her offer. Seth thought he was a moron. Not liking physical contact was one thing—he’d already picked up on that quirk of Reaper’s in the short time he’d spent with him. But to avoid the touch of a woman who looked like this one…well, hell, that wasn’t quirky, that was just plain crazy. “I’m Topaz,” she said. “We can sit, if you like.” She waved a hand toward a small sitting room, just off the foyer. They went in, each taking a comfortable spot. Seth picked a love seat, in hopes she would sit beside him. She didn’t. Reaper took a rocking chair near the gas fireplace, which Topaz turned on with the touch of a button. Roxy plunked down right on the stone hearth, probably cold. She should have said something when they were standing outside, Seth thought vaguely. Topaz remained standing while Reaper spoke. “I don’t want to keep you, so I’ll come straight to the point. I’ve been hired by some of the elders of our kind to deal with a man called Gregor, who is leading the most notorious rogue gang we’ve ever come across. Jack of Hearts is reputed to be Gregor’s right-hand man.” She lifted her perfectly arched brows and studied his face. “And you’re telling me this why?” “You know him, this Jack of Hearts, correct?” She shrugged. “I might.” “It’s rumored you were recently robbed of a great deal of money by your former lover. Since that seems to be this Jack’s modus operandi, I thought it a pretty safe bet he was the one.” He shrugged. “How many vampire con men are there, after all?” “They’re all con men, in one way or another,” she muttered. Reaper frowned. “Okay. You’re right. I admit it was Jack. And, yes, he was my lover. But how do you know I’ll help you? What makes you think I won’t rush off to warn him?” Reaper smiled slowly. It wasn’t a happy smile; it was a scary one. “I felt your reaction to hearing Jack’s name. You don’t want me to kill him in the process of taking out his boss. I figure I can bargain with you for his safety.” She lifted her brows. “You’re right,” she said. “I don’t want you to kill him, but only because I want to do it myself.” Seth had felt the rush of energy blasting from her at the mention of Jack’s name, too. And while he wasn’t as adept at reading other vamps as Reaper was, he’d always had a knack for reading people. He thought she was lying. It hadn’t felt like a rush of murderous rage to him. It had felt like a rush of pain of the heartache variety, and an all-out effort to hold back a flood of tears. She changed the subject. “So who are these two?” she asked. “These are my…” Reaper hesitated, as if he couldn’t quite think of the right word. “Friends,” Seth filled in, sending Reaper a disgusted look and getting to his feet to offer his hand. “I’m Seth. I’m new to all this undead stuff.” Topaz shook his hand and said, “You’re kidding,” in the most sarcastic tone he could imagine. Hell, was it that obvious he was a newborn? Then she turned to Roxy. “And you are…one of the Chosen, but…there’s something different about you.” “Roxy.” She didn’t offer a hand, and didn’t get up from her spot near the fire. “And everything about me is different.” “What an odd little band,” Topaz said. Then she shrugged, as if that was all the consideration she was going to give to that subject. “You were about to go somewhere,” Reaper said, with a glance at the luggage stacked near the front door. “Yes. I was going to hunt Jack Heart down—and that’s his name, by the way. Jack Heart. This Jack of Hearts nonsense is nothing but vanity. At any rate, I was going to hunt him down, get back the money he stole from me and then kill him. But I had no idea he was running with a pack of rogues.” “So you know where he is, then?” Reaper asked. She studied him, and took her time about answering. “I might.” She shrugged. “I must admit, I’m glad you came along when you did. I was walking into a dangerous situation without a clue it even existed. I could have been killed if I’d tried to get to him alone.” She looked at Reaper, then at Seth and Roxy, and back at Reaper again. Seth could almost see the wheels turning in her mind. And then they seemed to click into place. The slightly irritated, out-for-vengeance woman scorned melted away like the outer wax of a candle. Topaz smiled all of a sudden, and it was a huge, bright, entirely false smile that was enchanting all the same. Her eyes took on the sparkle and innocence one would expect to see in the eyes of the prom queen he had already mentally compared her to. The aura of being a dangerous predator might have never existed. “But now I don’t have to go alone.” “Oh, no—” Reaper began, but she cut in immediately. “I have to tell you, Reaper, this doesn’t sound at all like Jack. He’s no rogue. A total bastard, yes, but there’s not a violent bone in his body. He’s a con man. A lover, not a fighter.” She sent him a sheepish, almost shy look as she said it. “That’s good to know—possibly more than I need to know, in fact, but thank you all the same. However, you must understand this, Topaz. All I want from you is Jack’s location. If you could just tell me where—” She wasn’t paying attention by this point, but was, instead, leaning past him to look out through the door and down the drive to the end, where they’d parked. And then she was speaking again, her tone so innocent that surely not even the most gullible man on earth would have bought into it. “Oh, look at that van! God, that is so cute! And there must be plenty of room. Sam, why don’t you—” “Seth,” he said. She blinked at him as if not understanding, so he clarified. “My name. It’s Seth, not Sam.” “Whatever. Be a doll and carry my bags out for me. Isn’t the timing perfect? You don’t even have to wait for me to get ready.” She clapped her hands together and turned her full-high-beam smile on Reaper again. “Here I am, all packed and ready to go, and you guys show up like a limo service or something. This is great.” She played the spoiled, rich airhead well. But Seth saw right through it. She’d revealed her truer nature when they’d first arrived—when she’d threatened to kill them if they came any closer. This friendly, bubbly ditz routine was for the birds. “We are not taking you with us,” Reaper said, using his darkest, most bone-chilling tone. Thank God, Seth thought. Reaper wasn’t falling for it, either. Topaz’s false smile died. Her brows lowered. Her eyes grew dark and dangerous, and in that instant the transformation was so complete that Seth half expected a ghostly wind to start blowing through her hair as lightning flashed behind her. “Oh, yes, you are,” she said. And her tone was every bit as chilling as Reaper’s had been, and every bit as sincere. “Because I am not going to tell you where he is. I’ll give you directions as we go. If you want to find Jack and this gang he allegedly runs with, you’re stuck with me.” Seth grinned then. He couldn’t help it. The prom queen had Reaper over a barrel, and she wasn’t one bit afraid of him. He had to like that. And he wondered how long it had been since Reaper had come across so damn many people he couldn’t bully with his nasty-ass temper and big bad routine. Reaper glanced his way, and he wiped the grin off his face in a hurry, but not before it had been seen. Seth sent a quick glance Roxy’s way, just to see if he could tell what she thought about all this. She was studying Topaz as if trying to figure her out. Seth couldn’t tell if she admired the woman’s moxy or hated her guts. Roxy met his eyes, read his questions and shrugged almost imperceptibly before returning her attention to Reaper. “We’re wasting time,” she said. “Raphael, I don’t see that we have a choice. And standing here arguing isn’t going to do any good. You can see she’s not going to change her mind.” “Absolutely not,” Reaper said. Seth tugged his Noisy Cricket out of his pocket. “Here,” he said, handing it to Topaz. “You’re gonna need this.” Topaz took it from him, a tiny gun just the right size for her small hand. “What for?” “We’ll explain later.” Seth scooped up half her bags and started trudging toward the van. Topaz picked up the smallest of the bags, a tiny pink suitcase about one foot square, and carried that. Roxy followed, carrying nothing. She would be damned, Seth thought, before she would wait on a woman who was capable of waiting on herself. A few minutes later, the three of them were in the van and looking back toward the house. Reaper was still standing in the open doors, blinking at them in disbelief. “Grab those last two bags, would you, hon?” Topaz called. “And lock up on your way out.” She looked at Seth, who had retaken his seat up front after stashing her bags. “Do you mind terribly, Steve? I get carsick in the back, so I’m going to have to insist on riding shotgun. ” She was turning up those eyes again. “It’s Seth,” he said. “And you can quit the sweet-shallow-princess bit, Topaz. It won’t work on me.” But he got out and climbed into the next set of seats, as Roxy sent him a look that said, “Gee, thanks.” Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/maggie-shayne/demon-s-kiss/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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