Numb and bewildered, hands shaking ever so slightly—and not from the cold—he retrieved the flamethrower from the storage compartment and slipped into it. He tossed the car keys in on the passenger side floor and turned to go to the castle. By the time he turned around again Ash was gone. He let out a long breath, feeling the pain in his chest increase and his eyes start to burn. He shut his eyes for a moment, turning his face to the sky to let the snow melt on his hot flesh.
With a long, dejected sigh he started down the driveway to the building. The only sound was the soft crunch of the freshly fallen snow under his boots and his raging pulse as it pounded through his skull. He moved forward quickly and quietly, skillfully keeping himself upright on the unsteady terrain and through the snow. As he traversed the way to the castle, he kept an ear and eye out for Ash, not finding a trace of her anywhere. She was a true hunter, a dark predator. She could be inches from striking and he would never know. Even with the snow, she was too good for him to find her. Not a trace.
The back of his neck tingled again. He felt watched, exposed… hunted. He was sure it was just Ash, but he had to look anyway. There was no one there. The thought that if Ash could hide this well than so could Lucien didn’t comfort his uneasiness in the least. But he had a job to do and dammit he was going to do it, with or without Ash. He’d take care of her later. That was, if there was a later.
19: Inside
THE back of his neck was still tingling as he stood at the base of the broken steps to the front entry. He shrugged off the feeling of eyes on him as looked up at the old castle. Anyone could tell that it was once a beautiful building, a building where great things happened inside its massive walls. A home befitting of royalty. Now it was nothing but a pile of old stones, crumpled and forgotten. It seemed like a sad fate for such a regal structure.
And now, it’ll be Lucien’s tomb.
The moon was full and bright, the snow amplifying its brilliance. He had no flashlight to help him see and hoped that he could navigate once he went inside. Apparently, there was something in the moat—a large splash of water breaking through the ice sounded to his left. He stiffened, listening carefully for any sign that he may have been found out. Ten seconds passed.
Fifteen.
Twenty-five.
Silence.
Tristan let out his held breath, relaxing some of the tension in his shoulders. The relief was short lived though. A hand touched his arm, and he cried out in surprise and spun, lifting the gun he didn’t even remember reaching for. He tripped over a piece of rubble hidden under the snow. With the extra weight of the flamethrower on his back he wasn’t prepared for the imbalance and fell straight down onto his ass. He blinked wide eyes up to Ash, her hand suspended in the air where his arm had just been.
“Holy shit, woman. I almost shot you.” Not that it would have mattered. Would have only pissed her off and made him feel really terrible.
She frowned down at him and dropped her hand. “You really must be quiet.” She stepped around him, having no trouble with the broken steps, mumbling, “Some hunter.”
He groaned, rolling his eyes as he put the gun away. She knew she would catch him off guard. Damn vampire probably had been waiting all this time for the perfect moment to scare him. He stood, brushing the cold dust off of his clothing with a sigh, wondering what her problem was. Yeah, a vampire and Uruwashi “dating”, or whatever, posed its own set of relationship problems, but this wasn’t the time to sort them out. They had a serious job to do. The last thing either of them needed was to be distracted by their own anger with one another.
Ash slipped into the castle through the front doors. They were nearly fifteen feet tall and sturdy oak. A hinge on one of the doors was broken at the top and the bottom was pushed in just enough for a person to slip in. Lucien’s doing no doubt.
Tristan eyed the small space, wondering how the hell he was going to fit as he slipped off the flamethrower. He pushed the weapon through the crack and half expected Ash to take it the rest of the way. He scowled when she didn’t and positioned his shoulder into the crack and started to wiggle his way in, pushing the flamethrower back as he went. The sound of the metal canister scraping on the stone was like nails on a chalkboard and made him cringe. With his taller height and girth, he wasn’t sure he could fit at all. After a minute of struggling he finally pushed in, but not without its price.
Inside, he stopped, still sitting on the floor and touched fingers to his chest where it burned. He sighed when they wetted with fresh blood. “Damn.”
“Could you make any more noise? Honestly.”
He sighed again before giving a grunt as he stood. A part of him had wished she’d just gone ahead without him, just so he wouldn’t have to listen to her bitch. The part of him that still held hope was glad. He took it to mean that she still cared. She cared but there was something larger at work making her drive him away from her.
“You are making entirely too much of a ruckus, Tristan,” Ash hissed and sniffed loud enough for him to hear. “And you stink of fresh blood.”
“Listen,” he whispered, leaning over her. “I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you but I’ve had it. I’m going to kill this son of a bitch real quick like, with or without your help, and then you and I are going to have us a nice chat. Understand?”
“I do not know what you mean.”
She tried to turn away, but Tristan stopped her by grabbing her elbow. “Yes you do,” he hissed near her ear. “Look, I know our relationship isn’t perfect, but seriously, who’s is? Instead of trying to talk to me, which you never fucking do by the way, you’re just happy to write me off. I’m worth more than that, Ash. And don’t think you’re so fucking clever. I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to push me away. On purpose. Now, I don’t know why, but—” He stopped suddenly as his anger just let go, another emotion overtaking him.
Ash looked up, meeting his eyes. She was close enough to kiss, all he had to do was lean down a few more inches. His chest tightened. How he wanted to kiss her, hold her, whisper in her ear all the things she deserved to hear. Things he should have told her already.
Voice less angry and a little shaky he said, “I don’t know why, but you’re breaking my heart. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
Her mouth drooped into a deep frown, eyes heavy with regret. She took in a deep breath and looked away. “We should hurry. He will know we are here soon and I am starting to itch with the coming sun.”
Itch? He wondered if that was an actual description of what the sun coming up felt like for them or a metaphor for something else.
He let go of her arm, his fingers still tingling with the contact as she pulled away from him. And as he watched her walk away, he wondered if that would be the last touch he ever gave her, the last words they ever spoke to one another. How could he leave things like this?
“Fuck my life,” he grumbled and slipped the flamethrower back on. He really didn’t have time to overthink anything. Kill Lucien and get out before the sun. That was his only objective right then. Oh right, and live. But that was just implied, right?
Inside was just as cold as out and twice as drafty. But Tristan wasn’t cold anymore. Fighting with Ash got his adrenalin going and he felt on fire. The grand foyer was… grand. The ceilings were more than two stories tall, making the air above him feel endless. He could almost imagine the grandeur of it with furnishings. As it was now, it was a sad, broken world of grey. Off the main entry area there were steps that led up, all of them crumbled to the first floor making it impossible to go up that way. Corridors broke off in every direction and he followed Ash down the one to the right.
Broken bits of stone from the walls the size of luggage, remnants of massive tapestries, Queen Anne style furniture, and gilded candelabras lined the hallway. He was so fixated on his feet and where he was putting them, that he hadn’t noticed when Ash stopped and he ran right into the back of her. They were at a crossway, they could keep going st
raight or turn right. He looked down the new hallway. It looked exactly the same as the one before them.
Great.
Ash never bothered looking at him as she said, “We should split up. There are many rooms in this castle, he could be in any of them.”
“Can’t you sense where he is?” he walked around to face her.
She shook her head. “I cannot.”
“Why not?” he hissed. He didn’t like the idea of splitting up at all. Not for his wellbeing but hers and the fact that she couldn’t sense Lucien worried him. Ash’s answer was a huff and crossed arms over her chest with the accompanying sneer. “Fine. What happens if I find him before you do?”
She blinked once, it was a long slow blink like she wasn’t expecting him to say that and her vampire mind just couldn’t process the answer fast enough. “You figure it out, you are the vampire hunter.”
He leaned towards her, angry. He wished she’d stop lying, lying to them both. “Oh yeah?” he growled and Ash backed up, but he kept following her. She sneered up at him, backpedaling. Her back hit the wall behind her and she grunted with surprise. He put his hands to either side of her head on the dirty wall. “And what if he bites me, darling angel fangs? I just bet you’ll regret not sinking fang into me while you had the chance.” God. He knew he was being a total dick but he reached his limit. People did crazy shit when they were scared.
She frowned, her whole face falling with the expression. She was on the verge of tears as she looked away from his angry gaze. He was taken back—she still cared.
“You shall be fine, Tristan.” She met his eyes. The sorrow, the angst in her expression made his heart drop into his belly. Everything inside ached from the look in her eyes, that hurt.
She whispered, “Of anyone… it is you, Uruwashi. You are one to have faith in.”
That was the longhand of Yuki’s own words. How many times now since meeting her less than two months ago had she told him, “I have faith”? More than he could remember.
While he was still in his own thoughts, Ash slipped under his arm and past him. He frowned at the empty space, still unsure of what to say.
“Be careful,” she said softly and then was walking away from him. Somehow, their parting felt final. Why did it feel like she was saying goodbye?
“Ash, wait, there’s something I want to tell—” He turned around to find himself alone. She’d already disappeared into the shadows. Sure he didn’t believe in religion, but he still said a silent prayer that he’d see Ash again.
Down his section of corridor there were two doorways. Just past them, the hallway turned right. He pulled his gun and held it poised as he passed the first doorway. The door was open, showing a large room of nothing. The room had once been fitted with plaster and exquisite wall coverings, delicate and massive furniture alike, rugs and window coverings, but most of that was gone now. Either worn away by age or vandalized. A lone old, crumbling fireplace stood sentinel now over the lost grandeur.
A quick glance out the tall windows, all of the glass miraculously still in place, showed the snow falling faster, heavier than when they first arrived. Hell, even if they did beat the sun, they might not beat the snow. The Bugatti was not meant for adverse weather.
He moved on to the next door, the one on the right. This one was shut. He stopped and looked down at the handle. He wasn’t sure why he stopped exactly, except that he was having one of those feelings again. Itchy, just like Ash had said. He felt itchy all over like there were ants crawling over his skin, but on the inside. After a steadying deep breath he flung the door open so that the wood door juddered against the wall. His bad feeling was unwarranted.
Tristan let go of his held breath in a heavy sigh and continued his search. Blood pounded in his head, filled his ears. He was getting close to… something. The feeling had nothing to do with the Uruwashi in him. Maybe it was the other half of him, whatever that was. Or just simple instincts telling him danger danger.
He’d just turned a corner and came to a jarring stop. Startled, he sucked in a gasp as he looked into a face he knew. The two men stared at each other for the space of a breath before Tristan asked in a breathy whisper, “What the hell—” only for his words to be cut off when the other man tackled him.
Tristan released a cry that emptied his lungs. Or maybe it was that shoulder that caught him right in the solar plexus. He was knocked off balance but managed to keep from falling straight back onto the highly compressed tank of gasoline. He did however fall to his ass with a jarring impact, sliding back and smacking his head against the wall.
While he was disoriented, the other man flung himself onto Tristan, pinning him to the cold stone. Still groggy from smashing his head into the stone wall, Tristan groaned and struggled blindly under the weight of the other man. His arms were grabbed and pinned over his head. Tristan stopped struggling and looked up into those angry grass-green eyes trying to understand. Of course there was only one answer.
“You son of a bitch, Sebastian! You’re with Lucien!”
20: Sabotage
OUI, mon seigneur!” came Sebastian’s singsong reply. The bite to “my lord”, its sarcastic nature, wasn’t lost to Tristan even in his confusion.
He struggled with the fae. He had no idea the small man was this strong. “What the fuck happened to your loyalty! Your pride?”
Sebastian laughed, his breath minty and green smelling. “I had told you I was careful and calculating, didn’t I? And my loyalty is still what it was. But I have my own goals regardless of who holds my leash.”
“And what loyalty is that? To Lucien?” The angle was bad with his arms over his head like this, but Tristan fought it away, pushing and groaning with the effort. “He’s trash!”
The fae laughed and there was that earthy, minty scent again. God, what was that? “I don’t have to explain anything to you.”
“No,” he groaned, “’course not. He’s only using you anyway, like the kitsune.”
Sebastian lost his amusement then. He looked down right peeved.
Good.
“That is none of your concern.”
Tristan gnashed his teeth and tested the fae’s hold again. As expected, Sebastian immediately tightened, securing Tristan’s wrists over his head. The knees pinning Tristan’s hips down tightened too. The man may have been “petite” but Tristan saw the potential strength the man could wield the night he saw him shirtless. And, well, he was a shinwa, not human.
“I saw how upset you were with Lucien about the kitsune. Don’t think I didn’t see the seething look you gave him back at the hotel.”
“That is none of your concern!” Sebastian shouted, spitting on him. While the fae was still flustered under his anger, Tristan tried his hold again. He ground his teeth and lifted with his arms. Sebastian may have had the advantage of leverage and his surprisingly heavy bodyweight, but Tristan had the advantage of double jointed elbows. Thanks to Ash and their endless sparring lessons, he knew how to use the abnormality to his advantage. A quick twist of his arms around the wrong way loosened the fae’s grip. Green eyes went wide in alarm as Tristan wrenched his wrists free.
“Ha!” Tristan yelled in his excitement and swung out. His fist caught Sebastian in the chin, snapping the fae’s head to the side. At the same time he caught Sebastian with his other fist from below. The fae’s head rocked back, taking his body with the movement and he fell backwards. With a few precious seconds to act, Tristan scrambled to his feet, almost forgetting to compensate for the weight of the flamethrower and reached for a weapon.
The fae moved slowly as he stood, rubbing his chin with long fingers. His green eyes fell onto the gun pointed at him. He dropped his hand away in an annoyed gesture, but he smiled as he met Tristan’s gaze. “I am no vampire, monsieur hunter. Do you really intend on shooting me?”
Sebastian was right. He wasn’t human, but he wasn’t a vampire either. That meant, traitor or not, the man wasn’t on Tristan’s docket for the dead. After this was a
ll over Tristan had some serious moral mapping to do to decide if all shinwa deserved his form of justice. He needed to know where the line was that he couldn’t cross to protect his kind. When did protecting the human race turn to simple cold-blooded murder? Besides, the fae was unarmed. That had to mean he was just meant to retrieve Tristan for his Master. Lucien didn’t want him dead. Not yet anyway.
Sebastian’s stance relaxed and his face lit up, making those green eyes shine in the dim light. He was damn near smug as if he knew exactly what Tristan was thinking. “That’s right. You cannot kill me, I heard that about you. You target only vampires. That’s very naïve of you, thinking that only one of seven races living outside of human law need to be policed. And that doesn’t even account for those other things not human or shinwa…” He laughed, it was condescending and arrogant. “And to think, you hadn’t even known what shinwa were before I told you. I really hadn’t believed Lucien when he said you knew nothing, even after two months with a vampire mistress. But it seems he was correct all along. You are a newborn babe, so innocent. It’s really very sweet in a horrible way…”
The fae was really starting to piss him off. The gun in his hand started to shake. It was partly the extended time he had to hold the big ass gun up, trained on the fae. The other part, he could admit to himself, was the anger taking hold, fogging everything. “You always talk this much?”
“I’m sorry, ami,” he said mockingly. “I don’t mean to make fun. I just find the whole situation extraordinary. Besides, you can relax. Your big gun looks mighty heavy. I’m not here to kill you. No, no, Master has plans for you and the woman. I was only ordered to...” He paused, putting a hand to his chin in thought. His eyes unfocused as he tried to remember. “What was the word...,” he mumbled. “Ah! Yes, I was ordered to wrangle you, monsieur. It’s such a lovely American term, it’s it? Wrangle. So simple, yet full of implications.”
Bete Noire Page 24
