Killing Time

by Elisa Paige

  Maybe it wasn’t sporting to alarm the nice humans, but it sure was funny.

  Once well clear, I allowed the bike and my form to resolidify and slowed to a legal speed. Continuing to pace myself, I planned to stay one more night on the road so I’d arrive at the isolated lodge by midmorning tomorrow. But as I rode steadily north, the temperature continued to fall and the wind increased. The chill sank deep into me, setting my teeth chattering and making me feel like I’d never be warm again. Before half the day was gone, the idea of a hot shower, soft bed and more room service was beyond my ability to resist.

  Swinging onto Highway 93 for a long stretch—and picking up a brutal headwind—I followed Nic’s instructions, the roads getting narrower and more winding until I was climbing into the most rugged mountains I’d ever seen. At first, the hassle of contending with vacationing humans’ slower vehicles was an aggravation. But then the remoteness of the area weeded out all but the most determined back-country travelers and I was able to let my nimble bike go, flying through the corners and hugging the hairpin curves.

  Late afternoon, I came to a small resort nestled above a brilliant blue lake. Pulling into the parking lot, I shut off my bike’s engine and sat, staring and wondering how the humans had managed to dye such a large body of water.

  “Grand, isn’t it?” a voice asked.

  I firmed up my camouflage and took off my helmet with cold-stiffened fingers. A blond, bearded man knelt five yards away, tying the laces of his hiking boots and regarding me with a friendly expression. “Yes,” I said. “How’d you get it so blue?”

  He laughed and stood up. “I wish I could take the credit. The water is that shade because of sediment from the peaks around it.”

  I got off my bike and stretched my stiff back, setting my helmet on the seat and keeping the human in my peripheral vision.

  “Do you need a room?” he asked.

  I studied the lodge’s thick log walls, its three-story height and considered the way it was situated—two sides protected by tall, rocky peaks, the third by the lake itself. Only the entrance was open, which meant a single point of vulnerability. Pleased, I nodded. “Yes. For one night.”

  “It’s late in the season, so I have space. If you’d come just a week ago, you’d have been out of luck.” Sticking out his hand, he said, “I’m Tanner Briggs. My younger brother, Sam, and I own the place.”

  I stared at him for a second before remembering human manners I’d observed. Giving his hand a single, decisive shake, I crossed my arms over my chest in case he intended to foist any other greeting rituals on me. “Sephti. Just Sephti.”

  Tanner’s teeth flashed white from within his trim beard. “Well, Just Sephti, would you like a queen or a king bed?”

  Resolutely not thinking about what a place like this would cost, I grinned back. “King. And I’d like room service, please. Lots of room service.”

  The man looked at me strangely, then chuckled. “I’ve always admired a healthy appetite. Come on in. I’ll get you settled and have Sam show you to a room.”

  Turned out, I’d picked a great place to stay. Brief though it was, the delay was productive and well worth it.

  I’d showered last night and again this morning, delighting in the hot water and being clean. I had a huge late lunch, a bigger dinner and an enormous breakfast, all in the luxury of my beautiful room. And I’d visited the first floor shop and replaced my worn clothes with multiple layers that included a heavenly pair of silk long underwear.

  Happy as I was with the wonderfully soft, delightfully warm outfit, it made me uneasy that nothing was black. Looking at myself in the mirror that morning, though, I had to admit I liked the chocolate brown pants and gloves, the dark red flannel shirt and the matching sweater. My new down-filled parka was a rich taupe, its slim fit still roomy enough that I could reach my bike’s hand grips without the arms binding. I’d even bought hiking boots in a soft, water-resistant brown leather. I consoled myself that all of the earth tones would work to my advantage for blending in to the forest.

  Scrubbed, well-fed, rested and comfortably toasty in my new clothes, I’d used all but the last hundred dollars of my cash. My knee was moving much more freely, with only a little twinge when I tested it. My ribs seemed to have knitted over and the worst of the aches had faded after a full night’s sleep. All in all, I felt almost normal.

  I’d just started my bike when Tanner came jogging out of the lodge, carrying something and waving to catch my attention. When he reached me, he handed me a brown paper bag and grinned sheepishly.

  “I thought you might like something for the road,” he said, “so I made a sandwich.”

  Surprised, I tucked it into my backpack and slung it onto my shoulders. “Thank you.”

  He nodded, his hazel eyes searching my face. “I don’t make it a habit of nosing around in guests’ business, but there’s nothing past us except a thousand miles of wilderness before you hit the North Pole.” Tanner broke off, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Don’t go too far into the wild.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s just…well, Sam thinks it’s nothing, but I’m not so sure. The deer and elk that normally stay up in the higher ranges came down about a week ago. They were running hard. Like they were escaping. The same thing for the big predators. It kinda makes me wonder if there’s something more dangerous than mountain lions and bear up in those peaks.”

  I kept my expression pleasant. “I’ll be careful. Anyway, it’s just a short trip. A day at most. Then I’m turning south again.”

  He nodded, looking relieved. “Any chance you’ll need a place to stay on your way back through?”

  “No. Last night was a rare treat.”

  He looked away, his cheeks reddening. His diffident tone didn’t completely hide his startling interest. “We could offer reduced rates for a repeat stay. Drastically reduced rates.”

  “Still too rich for me.” I smiled to soften the refusal. Tanner was a handsome male, for all that he was human and would never survive bittern mating. Regardless, he couldn’t compare with Koda. Not by any stretch.

  “Well, if you change your mind, Sam and I will keep the lodge open until the first week of November. Then we have to close up for the winter or risk getting snowbound up here.”

  “Thanks. And thanks for the food too.”

  “Any time.”

  Roaring out of the parking lot, I renewed my climb up the steep mountain roads. I figured I’d get to the remote lodge before noon, which would give my body even more time to work on repairing my knee—the only thing I was concerned about in case things got hairy with the edgy vampires.

  After what Tanner said, I was genuinely worried about what I’d find. That an immortal as mature as Jack had allowed his mate’s presence to affect the local wildlife and tip off humans was astonishing—of all the supernatural creatures, none were better at blending in than vampires.

  I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Jack wasn’t bothering to try.

  Chapter Twelve

  I felt their sharp, lethal interest long before I saw the hunting vampires. Which was still far more warning than their mortal prey ever got. But just because I wasn’t a sensory-dull human didn’t mean I could be cocky around the world’s most deadly predators.

  Especially when I caught the sharp, metallic whiff of madness clinging to the woods as they easily paced me the last ten miles to the lodge, the heart of their territory. That I was being stalked destroyed my hope that a simple, cordial talk with Jack would give me the key to offing Philippe and the lords.

  Shortly after leaving Tanner’s place, I’d felt exposed and vulnerable, only then understanding that much of my awareness of my surroundings was dependent upon the natural world’s inhabitants. Birdsong and small animals feeding along the forest floor meant all was well in the near vicinity. Silence and watchfulness were warnings to anyone wise enough to pay heed.

  But this…this emptiness had my skin crawling, as if malevolent
eyes watched my every move and crushing jaws waited in ambush. And it was caused by the total lack of creatures bigger than a sparrow. Hell, even the sparrows were exceedingly scarce.

  Ever since I’d driven off the faint dirt track the two-lane road had become to ride cross-country, my senses felt like a hyperactive Geiger counter spazzing over the mother lode of all radioactive dumps. I was literally twitching with acute awareness that each mile I rode was a mile farther into at least one insane vampire’s territory.

  I paused long enough to fill my parka’s pockets with jelly beans, and from that point on, ate handful after handful as I rode. With no better warning than my own overwrought senses, I’d kept my form partially shaded—I wanted to be visible, not bite-able.

  Rolling the last few feet up a long winding track through the heavy trees, I parked my bike next to a silver pickup. The lodge was lovely, as was the forest setting, but I didn’t let the details soak in—I was too busy trying to look every direction at once.

  The sense of explosive motion brought me around to face a slim, black-haired male leaning laconically against the truck’s shiny side.

  “Hello, little fae,” he purred in a faint Southern accent that did nothing to hide the menace in his icy blue eyes. “What’s brought you calling on such a lovely autumn day?”

  “I assume you’re Jack?” I was careful to hold my ground and keep my posture relaxed, confident. I could feel his predator’s senses focused on me and knew he heard my rapid heartbeat, although I hoped he didn’t interpret its crazy speed as fear-induced. Nothing enflames a hunter more than fear in its intended prey.

  I’d learn more from Jack if I wasn’t overly busy trying to keep him from killing me.

  He cocked his head. “You know my name.” Smiling unpleasantly, he let me see his fangs extending. “My friends don’t know any fae and my enemies don’t know about this place, although they do consort with your kind.” His voice oozed derision.

  I sighed. This wasn’t starting out well.

  “I’m not fae. I’m bittern. And unless you want your last sight to be of your heart exploding from your chest, I’d suggest you not bite me. My blood is toxic.” I tossed the last few words over my shoulder because I could sense his unseen mate circling me. “Nic Harfang and Siska gave me directions so I—”

  Jack’s head whipped toward me. “Now why would the bastard who made me vampire and his pretty little fascist send us a toxic treat?” His lips drew back from his gleaming teeth. “Maybe so Kate and I would bite you? It’d clean up the problem we pose, but I wouldn’t have suspected Siska of such deviousness. He’s more of an in-your-face kinda jackass.”

  I kept my voice level. “If any of us wanted you two dead, why would I have warned you about my blood?”

  He laughed mockingly and shoved away from the pickup. Pacing around me in the deceptively languid way of large hunting cats, he drawled, “No one likes to get bitten, sugar. Maybe you’ve had a change of heart.”

  Turning to face him as he moved, I tried again to be reasonable. “You don’t want me here, and believe me, you’re not my idea of restful company. So give me five minutes of your time and I’ll be on my way.”

  Jack growled a warning. “You won’t make it to within a foot of your bike.”

  “Fine.” Having had enough of my failed effort at civility, I bared my own sharp teeth at him. “I have busted my butt trying to find you. So can the bad-ass routine, tell your rabid mate to stand down and answer three questions.”

  Probably it was the comment about his female that pissed him off most, I decided as I fully shaded in the nanosecond it took Jack to lunge at me. The enraged vampire tore around, snarling and swinging, while I waited for him to calm down. Finally, panting with fury, he said in a low, angry voice, “Cute trick.” Stalking over to my bike, he lifted its four hundred-fifty pounds with ease. “Come out, come out, wherever you are or I’ll crush your precious motorcycle into a big, shiny ball.”

  “What makes you think I care?” I taunted past my suddenly dry mouth.

  “Am I wrong?” he taunted back.

  Grinding my teeth, I firmed up my form just enough for him to see my outline, then sidestepped immediately, the speed of his mate’s charge blasting through the space I’d—sort of—occupied. “You play dirty,” I acknowledged. “Guess that helped you get along with Philippe for all the years you took his orders.”

  Jack went rigid and I held my breath, waiting to see what he’d do to my poor Ninja. “What do you know about Philippe?” he snarled.

  “Enough to know he needs to die,” I snarled in return.

  The vampire gazed at me consideringly. “What makes you think you can kill him?”

  I cranked a haughty eyebrow. “It’s what I do.”

  Jack barked a laugh and lowered my motorcycle to the ground. “Nice bike.”

  “Thanks.” I was facing him, watching his expression and painfully aware of the chaotic emotions tearing through him. At the same time, my senses were stretched taut, trying to track his fast-moving, feral mate. “So. My questions?”

  He meandered back and forth in front of me, gazing at me sidelong with each pass. “How long can you stay misty like that?”

  I shot back, “How long can you keep your presence up here a secret from the slayers? From your own Ancients?”

  Not answering, he lowered his head and his hands curled into fists.

  “I’m not your enemy, Jack,” I said softly.

  He glared at me, fangs bared, before forcing himself straight. Passing a hand over his face, he sighed. “Right now, we have nothing but enemies. Ask your questions, Not-a-Fae and then get the hell off my mountain.”

  I wasn’t going to get a better invitation.

  “What are Philippe’s security measures like?” I asked, excitement at finally getting some useful information ramping up my pulse.

  “What you’d expect from a paranoid madman.”

  I stifled a sigh. “For example?”

  Jack’s eyes tracked in a fast line past my shoulder and I stiffened against the urge to turn, already sensing how his mate was lining up for her next charge. What I hadn’t anticipated was the desolation filling his gaze.

  Clearing his throat, he looked back at me. “The bastard travels with at least eight vampire guards at all times. He is a hedonist and stays only in the finest hotels. His trips are abrupt, unplanned and the routes he follows, random. Without even the hint of a pattern.”

  I thought out loud. “How is he doing that? Even the most careful person can unconsciously trip himself up. Return to a favorite place. Shop in the same store.”

  Jack’s attention strayed to a point high over my left shoulder, as if his mate had taken to the treetops. “Not him.”

  My awareness screamed a warning and I faded fully, vaulting to the pickup’s bed on the same breath. A blond streak dropped onto the spot where I’d been standing. She stood frozen for the merest second, her pretty face flushed with the rage of a failed attack. Her eyes showed no sign of intellect—there was only animal need and cunning, no hint of a person within. I blinked and she blurred into motion again, her extreme speed rocking the truck in her wake.

  As if nothing had happened, Jack said, “Philippe doesn’t need to rest. Neither do his guards. So you can forget catching any of them napping. Because they are hunted by our Ancients and Rome’s most zealous slayers, they’re constantly primed for attack.”

  Disappointed but not really surprised, I sat on the truck’s raised side. “Is there no place that he favors? Nowhere he relaxes?” I let my outline become visible again.

  Jack’s gaze settled on my throat and the hummingbird-fast throb of my pulse. “When he isn’t traveling erratically, Philippe goes to ground in one of nine residences.” Jack’s voice became soft, vague. As if the entire conversation were of little import to him. Shrugging one shoulder, the dark-haired vampire sighed. “So far as I know. There could be more.”

  “Where are his homes? How often does he go to them
?”

  In the same dreamy tone, Jack said, “Philippe keeps a residence in St. Louis and one in New Orleans, in addition to at least seven that I know of scattered across Europe.” A brief smile bent his lips. “Poor little Not-a-Fae. His homes are like fortresses, each with a barracks full of guards. Now that he’s allied with Reiden, Philippe has things besides vampires patrolling the extensive grounds. And you’ve asked me more than three questions.”

  “Just one more.” I waited until the pale eyes rose to meet my gaze. “Do you want Philippe dead?”

  Jack’s breath caught. “More than you can imagine.”

  “Then help me figure out how to get at him,” I said, intensity making my voice rough.

  He shook his head, not in refusal but in frustration. Leaning back against the pickup, he stared at the pine needle-covered ground. “I’ve done a lot of things I regret, Not-a-Fae. Each weighs on me. Each and every one.” Jack thumped his fist softly against the truck’s side and I was impressed by his control, since he could’ve thrown the five-thousand-pound vehicle forty yards if he’d wanted. “But the things that bastard has done…”

  Silently, I watched the black-haired vampire wrestle with memories, anguish clear in the sharp angles of his face.

  After a long moment, Jack’s haunted eyes turned toward me. “If I could figure out how to kill him, I’d’ve done it a long, long time ago. He’s twice as strong as any immortal three times his age and all I can think is he’s feeding on an Ancient, although which one of the Five would tolerate it, I have no idea.” His gaze flicked upward and he cursed. “Kate! No!”

  A huge tree fell toward the pickup and would’ve crushed the bed but for Jack’s intervention. Between one blink and the next, the pine was safely grounded twenty feet away.