“You kill Sykes then, you bleeding cur?” He bared his bloodied teeth.
Johnathan blinked. This was his second time seeing blood, and he didn’t feel the slightest pull to it. His thoughts turned over. He turned away from Dodd, suddenly frantic to find Vic.
“They’ll come for you, Newman. They’ll kill them all, you murdering bastard!”
Johnathan ignored him. Dodd would spit in the face of the Devil soon enough. Instead, he followed the blood and bit his tongue hard when he found Vic.
It didn’t look right to see Vic cower. He lay barely conscious on the floor behind the remains of the settee, openly bleeding from a dozen wounds that showed no signs of healing. They must have stuck him with a dose of Judas Choice to weaken him.
Vic flinched away, one bloody hand extended to fend Johnathan off, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
“Vic? It’s me,” he said. “It’s Johnathan.”
Vic’s breath was far too ragged. Blood seeped through his fingers, pressed hard against his side. His fingernails were a dark blue-black. Could a vampire die like this? Johnathan was ashamed to realize he wasn’t sure. The Society possessed so many methods of dispatching the undead, but they always took the head to be certain.
“I’ve got it,” said Alyse. She hustled into the room, a physician’s satchel under one arm. “John, bring him here.” Alyse pointed to the settee.
Vic shook his head with a whimper. “Stay back. S’dangerous.”
“Dangerous as a cornered kitten.” Johnathan gently brushed Vic’s hand aside and scooped him up. Vic cried out at the contact, the injuries on his back bled into Johnathan’s palms. Fury burned inside him, his lungs a bellows as he carried Vic, carefully as he could, and set him down where Alyse waited. “What do we do?”
“He needs blood.” Alyse laid out tools, her manner brisk.
Johnathan picked up a length of hollow tubing with a skeptical eye. It was no syringe. “This will get him blood?”
“A transfusion.” She snatched the tubing from his hands. “He taught me how to do it. Just in case.” She broke off. Her throat worked, struggling for control. Her nostrils flared. She tore her sleeve at the shoulder seam, halfway to tying a silk cord around her upper arm before Johnathan grabbed her.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Are you truly that dense?” Alyse snarled. She attempted to shove past him and slapped at his face when he held her fast.
“Stop, Alyse, stop! He needs more blood than you can give.” She was a bird, beating herself against the bars of her cage. Her pulse thundered at their point of contact, his hands at her wrists. Her fear and desperation bruised the air.
“Then I’ll give it all!” Alyse yelled in his face. “He’s family.”
“Don’t you dare,” Vic gasped. Tears spilled down his battered face.
A shock of realization jolted through Johnathan, finally understanding the nature of Alyse and Vic’s relationship. He pulled Alyse into him, handling her like crystal, the memory of Sykes’ broken neck still raw as he held her in his arms.
“Listen to me. There will be more Hunters coming. Don’t sacrifice yourself like this.”
“Do you volunteer, then?” Alyse sobbed, her voice bitter and strained.
“I can do it,” he said, and he meant it. Alyse went quiet in his hold, trying to pull back to get a look at his face, shocked by his sincerity. But the tactical side of Johnathan’s mind quietly kicked in. If he let Vic drain him, he would merely die in the next fight or the one after that. The Society would keep sending its agents, however long it took, until all targets were dispatched. Next time, they would likely come with more men to ensure success.
Johnathan stared at the sputtering Dodd. His jaw clenched. “We do have another option.”
Alyse stiffened, only for a moment, before her gaze followed his. “He’s your man,” she said, her voice rife with disbelief.
“He’s a dead man, either way. Make use of him,” said Johnathan. “Get him set up. I’ll bring Vic over. And don’t put anything sharp where Dodd can grab it.”
Alyse glanced back at him, her expression one he’d never seen on her before. “You’re serious—”
“Go!” John snapped. He waited for her back to turn before he brought his mouth to Vic’s ear.
Vic shivered with a soft groan, likely lashed by a dozen impulses only his weakened state kept him from acting on.
“Where did they stick you?” Johnathan prayed for somewhere moderately accessible.
“Thigh,” he gasped out.
“Damn,” Johnathan muttered. He glanced at Vic’s trousers. There wasn’t time to namby-pamby about.
Vic’s pants had enough tears for him to seize a gap and tear it open, exposing the violated thigh from groin to knee. He hissed through his teeth in sympathy at the sight, the veins blackened around the injection site like a poisonous lightning strike. There was a fast, if unpleasant, method of removing the poison, just as one would remove the venom from a snakebite.
“What are you doing?” Vic wheezed.
“Shut up before I lose my nerve.”
Johnathan closed his mouth on the wound. He ignored Vic’s tiny sound of surprise, prayed Alyse kept busy, and filled his mouth with poison so potent it burned like acid on his tongue.
He lifted his head long enough to spit on the floor. Johnathan would know the moment he hit clean blood. If the poison was bad, vampire blood was ten times worse, like sliding a razor blade down your throat, too potent for human senses to adapt to. That was what he expected, which was why a taste he hadn’t expected made him break off.
Quickly, he spat out the mouthful, his thoughts a tangled mess while the wound on Vic’s thigh sealed. Vic heaved a breath. His other wounds were already closing as well. He still needed blood, badly, but when he clutched Johnathan’s wrist, his grip was iron.
“You—you—” he sputtered. “How did you know to do that?”
With his free hand, Johnathan wiped at his mouth. “Extensive training.” He stopped, a moment of clarity born from his twisting fever dream.
This was how they killed Sir Harry.
How they kept him so still to force a scared boy to end his keeper. He shook the pall of bitterness off. Sir Harry was now, firmly, his past, and he would not let that guilt weigh him any longer.
“Allow me to whisk you away, my dear damsel.” Johnathan lifted Vic off the settee and carried him across the room. Dodd was blessedly unconscious when they got there, though Johnathan suspected that had to do with the table leg in Alyse’s lap.
“The mouth on this one,” she muttered as Johnathan set Vic down. “Oh good, you prepped him for me.” She held an alarmingly large needle in one hand, ready to plunge it into Vic’s now-healed thigh. Alyse blinked at Vic. “You look remarkably better. Blood will fix you right up.”
Broken necks, gut shots, poisonous wounds, and it was the sight of that ridiculously large needle plunged into Vic’s thigh that made Johnathan’s head swim. He sat down on the floor hard enough to bruise his tailbone.
“Damn.” He squeezed his eyes shut when the attached tube filled with blood from the unfortunate Dodd.
“John.”
He held his breath, risking a peek at Vic. Alyse cradled her friend’s head in her lap, the embrace more motherly than intimate. There was no intimacy in her gestures, her hands stroking Vic’s hair, her expression one of pure concern and worry. Johnathan stared, wondering when he’d internalized the fact Alyse was an ally and not competition for the affection of the man between them.
Vic grabbed for his hand, his grip still terribly weak. “Thank you.”
“This is my fault,” said Johnathan. “I sent for them.”
“No,” said Alyse. She inhaled a shaky breath. Vic wrapped his other hand around her wrist, connecting the three of them. “You did what you thought was right.”
“Some good it did me,” said Johnathan.
Johnathan bowed his head, lifting Vic’s hand to bru
sh a kiss over his fingers. Relief was a palpable drug, elation blooming as Johnathan watched the slow rise of color in Vic’s face. He caught the small smile of approval on Alyse’s face before his mood darkened. Yes, they had survived, but he’d led more danger to them. He’d failed to act on his theories and instincts until it was too late, unable to grasp the clues to his condition thanks to the demonic influence that hung over Cress Haven like an executioner’s blade.
Vic caught his gaze. “I didn’t realize you were the target until it was too late.”
“Neither did I. I think that was the demon’s intent. But Evans…I think he knew,” Johnathan replied, more certain than ever that his mentor had a heavy hand in the matter, though the pieces still didn’t quite connect. The core of the mystery plagued him. Why was Evans involved? Why was any of this happening? What part did his mentor ultimately play?
“How?” Alyse clutched Vic closer to her. “How could he know? I thought this demon only targeted women. Why would it go after you, John? And why didn’t this Society bully stop it?”
“I don’t know.” Johnathan truly couldn’t answer those questions. He found himself torn between the need for answers and the pain they would bring. “What happened to the beast?”
“It was a bit of a cluster when you went down,” said Vic, his voice strengthening slightly as he shook off the final traces of poison. “But I think a couple of the Society agents peeled off in pursuit. I took you and ran. I knew they were coming. You were dying, and I refused to let them take you.”
“But I didn’t die,” said Johnathan.
Alyse looked at him, the mark of exhaustion smudged beneath her wary eyes. “Are you sure of that?”
He swallowed. He couldn’t truly answer that either. “What happened?”
Vic pulled the needle from his thigh and sat up. Johnathan failed to look away, pressing a hand to his mouth to keep from retching.
“I’ve never seen a fever like that,” said Vic, his skin still too pale. “I thought I would watch you burst into flames, but you stubbornly clung to life.” He paused. His fingers flexed. “Until you didn’t. Your body started to give out. Your skin started to crack and blacken. Your heart stopped beating. You were losing.”
“But I—I came back.” An impossibility.
Vic shook his head and looked away. “I don’t know how. I was certain you would burn to ash, same as poor Mary Elizabeth, but it stopped.”
There was a beat of silence. “That can’t be good.” Johnathan held up his hands. They were covered in dried blood and dirt but appeared whole and healthy. “It seems I didn’t wake up a demon’s servant either, like Lydia Fairchild. What does that mean?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” said Vic.
“Dammit, more questions.” John looked at the ruin of Vic’s home. His gaze skirted Dodd’s quiet form. “We can’t stay here. Evans will send more men. They will go on the hunt as well, especially after they find their dead brethren.”
Alyse bit her lip. “Where the hell are we going to go?”
“There is no we. You’re going to go to your family and make sure they’re safe,” said Vic.
“They’ll be perfectly safe.” Alyse stuck out her chin. “Don’t you dare try to keep me out of this, Vic. I’m not some wilting fair maiden in need of rescue.”
Vic took her hands. “I know you’re not, and that’s why you need to do the most dangerous job.” She drew herself up at Vic’s words. “I need you to watch Evans and his men.”
“But don’t interact,” Johnathan interjected. It was a sound task to keep Alyse out of immediate danger.
“They don’t care about me,” she said.
“Actually, they do,” said Johnathan. “A fiend’s companions are considered traitors to their species. If they believe they can reap answers from you, they will go after you.”
Vic shot Johnathan a horrified look. “On second thought,” said Vic, “come with us.”
Alyse punched him in the shoulder. “I knew you were trying to keep me out of danger.”
“We do need eyes on them. We need to know when they mobilize.” Johnathan avoided the venom in Vic’s glare. Alyse had beyond proved herself able. “It will be dangerous, and if they see you, they might kill you or use you as bait.”
“I don’t agree to this,” Vic snapped.
Alyse ignored him. A grin lit her face. “Where shall I report in, sir?”
Johnathan’s mouth set in a hard line. “Do you remember where you found us in the wood?”
“Oh, bother.” Vic scrubbed his pretty little forehead.
“And I’ll need a fresh shirt, please.” Johnathan glanced down at his bare chest.
“You’ll have to borrow one of mine,” said Vic, his mouth a pinched line, belying his displeasure.
Johnathan frowned when Vic stalked from the room. “I didn’t expect him to be so upset.”
“He’ll get over it.” Alyse snorted. “He can’t protect me forever, which is why I am leaving before he comes back.” He turned back to her, meeting her solemn gaze. “Try not to be too reckless, Johnathan.”
It wasn’t until Alyse left to play spy that Johnathan turned to the agent watching him. Surprised the vile man had remained quiet, it was possible Dodd was too weak to spit his usual bile.
“Would you like last rights?”
Dodd wasn’t a religious man, most of the Society agents weren’t, but every man deserved a final send off if they wished.
Dodd coughed weakly, the fire in his eyes smoldering with unspent rage. Between the bullet and the impromptu transfusion, the man was only alive through sheer stubbornness. “Filthy traitor.”
“Well, I’m sure Evans will put a bullet through my skull when he catches up to me.” Johnathan knew it was coming. He wasn’t supposed to survive last night or this attack. He hoped to save Cress Haven before his borrowed time came due.
Dodd choked out a laugh in a gush of too-dark blood. “Oh no, boyo, the doc has some grand plans for you.”
Johnathan’s blood chilled, which was saying a lot at the moment. “What the hell does that mean?”
But Dodd was already gone, the leer on his face slowly going lax in the fade of death.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“What makes you think the fairies will talk to us a second time, John?”
“Call it a hunch?” Johnathan didn’t have a clue what he was doing. He sure as hell didn’t know if he could find the shimmering portal again, but the fairies knew about demons, and he would get answers, dammit, if he had to nail their slippery tongues to the nearest tree stump.
“Even if we do find them,” said Vic, who kept pace without a single hitch in his breath, “their clues are about as clear as mud. Maybe, and do let me finish, if we got your Dr. Evans alone—”
“Absolutely not.”
“I say, let me finish,” said Vic. “We get him alone, we might be able to convince him to focus on the true threat—”
Johnathan slid to a stop, his borrowed shirt so tight it nearly tore at the seams. “If they were fighting a horde of demons here, Evans would still stop mid-battle to remove your head from your shoulders. You can’t coax him or bribe him or use your compulsion, Vic, because he doesn’t see you as anything but a monster to be dispatched, even if you had valuable information to offer him.”
Vic threw up his hands. “You sent for the bastards, John, which I supported until they proved so bloody unreasonable.”
Johnathan’s head dropped. “I didn’t expect Evans to come himself. There are a dozen field agents that should have been sent in his place, any of them far more flexible to an unusual situation.”
Vic frowned. “Didn’t you say he brought you here?”
The thought made Johnathan stop walking, overwhelmed by the dreaded crawl of implication. Johnathan didn’t think it unusual at the time. Evans was his mentor. He personally chose Johnathan’s solo assignment from a pool of several recent incidents. That was before Alyse told him that Evans had been to
Cress Haven over a year ago. Before Mrs. Fairchild described the stranger who set her husband on the path to his doom, the recognizable details Johnathan scoffed at, unwilling to connect the pieces because he couldn’t bring himself to think of Dr. Evans as a villain. What purpose did Evans have to bring him here?
He’d avoided the question because he didn’t understand it. But to Johnathan, it wasn’t the most troubling aspect of his situation. There was that moment, removing the poison from Vic’s system, when Vic’s blood hit his tongue—
“John.”
He startled at Vic’s voice. “What is it?”
“We’re here. You led us right to it.” Vic looked at him, his expression difficult to discern.
Johnathan glanced at the surrounding trees. The area was vaguely familiar, but there was no shimmering portal in the air. “How can you tell? There’s nothing here.”
“Exactly my point. This is a fool’s errand. Neither of us have any secrets left to barter. We’re not interesting enough to tempt them again.”
“Maybe we should have brought Alyse,” Johnathan mumbled.
Vic shoved him right off his feet. He landed in a flurry of dead leaves and bracken as Vic got in his face, features rigid with anger. “Don’t you think you’ve put her in enough danger?”
Johnathan slapped the ground, struggling to stand. The movement was too much for the strained seams at his shoulders, which promptly ripped under both his armpits.
Vic’s mouth pinched. “And you owe me a new shirt,” he hissed.
Johnathan sighed and stayed on the ground. Might as well enjoy the fresh breeze through the torn seams. He was sweating like the Devil breathed down his neck. It was apparent his brush with death took more of his stamina than he realized.
“She’s more capable than you give her credit for.”
Vic drew back. His anger burst like a deflated air bladder. “Because of the company she keeps? She has no training or supernatural ability to bolster her, John.”
Johnathan glared at him. “You know, it’s actually not all about you. Alyse has good instincts and a strong will.”
“She’s human. She shouldn’t be tangled up in demonic murders and vampire hunters—”
A Bargain of Blood and Gold Page 22
