BLACKOUT: CROSSBREED SERIES BOOK 5

by Dannika Dark

  “Fine. I’ll go.”

  “We both go,” Claude interjected. “And I drive. My car’s faster.”

  Shepherd didn’t like riding shotgun, especially in small cars. So he raised his arm, showing off the sweat stains, and took a whiff.

  Claude wrinkled his nose. When the prospect of Shepherd’s sweaty body rubbing all over his seats registered, he chewed the end off his licorice. “Never mind. You can drive.”

  Shepherd chuckled. “What’s the matter, pretty boy? You don’t like the way I smell?”

  “You slay me.”

  “Keep your phones on,” Viktor said, ignoring their nonsense. “If we hear from them or they show up, I’ll send a message.”

  Shepherd gave a casual salute when Viktor rose from the table to leave the room. He couldn’t help but notice their fearless leader had buttoned his cardigan incorrectly, because there was an extra button hanging at the bottom.

  The man had a lot on his mind.

  “Meet me in the car,” Shepherd said. “I need to go upstairs.”

  “To shower?”

  “Nobody’s got time for that. I need to grab a few weapons. Do you want me to bring you anything? A dagger? A gun? Maybe a crossbow?”

  Claude rose from the table, showing off his extra four inches of height. “Bring me a package of those little white powdered donuts out of Wyatt’s machine.”

  “Power’s out, remember?”

  “He’s got a key.”

  “Which is probably glued to his private parts. If you think you can pry that from his cold dead hands, by all means.”

  Claude lifted his chin and swaggered toward the door. “Challenge accepted.”

  Shortly after Shepherd gathered a few weapons, they hopped in the Jeep Wrangler—which looked more like a war machine, thanks to some of his modifications—and headed out in search of Christian and Raven. Guns weren’t effective with all Breed, but he still brought his Glock just in case he needed to slow someone down. Hopefully, things hadn’t gone to hell. As they drove through the human districts, looters were attempting to rip open the security gates outside liquor stores and electronic stores. They’d smashed out the windows of one place and were hauling ass with armloads of stolen goods, including giant television sets.

  One lady was pushing a grocery cart filled with meat. Shepherd didn’t know where the hell she thought she was going to keep all that stuff with the power out. Some people just didn’t think.

  Claude licked his fingers, his lips dusted in powdered sugar.

  Shepherd gave him a sly look. “How did you get the key?”

  Claude finished chewing his last donut. “Wyatt was reluctant at first. I told him I could always go to the nearest funeral home and make an open plea that if any spooks want Gravewalker services, all they have to do is come home with me and search for a key. You never saw him leap out of a chair so fast.”

  Shepherd belted out a laugh. “I’ll have to remember that next time.”

  Claude wadded up his wrapper and tossed it out the window. “I think he taught me a few new curse words. What’s a fuck nugget?”

  Shepherd pulled the Jeep up in front of Flavors, a club they frequented.

  “Someone took precautions,” Claude said, pointing out the open window at the main doors, which someone had boarded up.

  “Can you pick up Raven’s scent?”

  Claude gave him a cross look. “The only scent I’m picking up in this sweatbox of yours is body odor. Raven has on a certain perfume tonight, so I might be able to pick up the trail. Keep driving. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

  Shepherd put the car in drive. “What are the odds that your dumb ass is going to sniff them out in a city of four million? I ain’t got enough gas for this shit.”

  Claude rubbed his nose. “With your pits reeking, you make a good a point.” He zipped up his leather jacket. “Does Wyatt keep a spare hat in here?”

  “Glove compartment.”

  Claude rummaged around until he found the folded-up knit hat. He had a mess of blond hair to stuff beneath it, but once it was on, he gave Shepherd a wild look. Claude was as Chitah as they came, golden eyes so bone-chilling that most people couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a few seconds. It was like staring into the eyes of a savage animal.

  “I don’t know if sticking your head out the window is such a good idea,” Shepherd finally said, giving him the side-eye. “You know how excited you get.”

  Claude rubbed his smooth chin. “Afraid I’ll flip my switch and damage your precious car?”

  “Maybe.”

  Claude had flipped his switch around Shepherd but luckily never attacked. He described it as being able to see and hear what was happening but having no control. That didn’t exactly sit well with Shepherd. If Claude wasn’t in control, then that meant his primal side was. Chitahs had animal instincts like Shifters, but they didn’t shift. Some speculated that Chitahs might be mutated from Shifters, becoming a species in which man and animal had merged into one.

  Shepherd tightened his grip on the wheel. “If you get a whiff of one female in trouble and smash through my windshield to get to her, I’m making you pay for damages.”

  “Stop the car.”

  Shepherd slammed on the brakes.

  When Claude got out, Shepherd thought he was going to storm off. Instead, the man climbed onto the hood and mounted the roof.

  “Jesus fuck,” Shepherd muttered, throwing open his door. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Claude looked like a runner at the starting line. His nostrils flared as he raised his head. “They probably went to one of our hangouts. Just circle the area, go to the next, and let me do my thing.”

  “I don’t have a roof rack for you to hold on to,” Shepherd pointed out.

  A look of irritation flashed in Claude’s eyes. “Then drive slowly. I’ve got long arms, so keep the front windows open, and I’ll be fine.”

  Shaking his head, Shepherd hopped in the Jeep and coasted down the road. Claude had a point. If Christian and Raven were still in the city, they might have walked to a regular hangout. Scents faded by the minute. Since Claude had a keen sense of smell, it was worth a shot.

  Shepherd hadn’t seen a cab driver since entering the city. If something had happened to Christian’s car, they were probably stranded. Nobody wanted to be out in this mess, especially when traffic lights weren’t working and people were driving like assholes.

  After a short drive, they reached Nine Circles of Hell. It hadn’t been a hangout until Hooper and Gem started seeing one another.

  Damn. What a fucking shame about Hooper. Shepherd hadn’t known the guy very well, but he’d seemed all right. Had a job, kept his nose clean. Yet none of that mattered in the grand scheme of things. Innocent people were cut down every day for no good reason. It made you question the point of life.

  His thoughts steered briefly to Maggie, but instead of lingering on her as they usually did, he thought of the boy.

  His boy.

  Shepherd’s chance at being a dad was over. That ship had sailed. But buried beneath all that common sense was another voice, one that whispered dark ideas in his ear late at night.

  Kill Patrick.

  Steal the boy.

  Leave Keystone.

  Every day he stayed with Keystone presented another opportunity of running into Patrick. Going to that Valentine’s party had done a number on him, especially after the explosion. He didn’t need a constant reminder of what he’d never have. How was he supposed to move on and forget?

  When the crowd thickened, he slowed his Jeep. Unable to see what was going on, Shepherd turned left to avoid trouble.

  “I need to leave,” he mumbled to himself.

  Thoughts of his son were consuming him to the point that he couldn’t focus on his job. Did Patrick scold the child? Punish him? Force him to read emotions he didn’t want to? It sure as hell wouldn’t be long before he started telling the kid lies about Shepherd. This was one big clust
erfuck. Kidnapping an official’s child would automatically brand him an outlaw, wanted dead or alive. The boy would grow to resent him, and they’d always be in danger from either Patrick’s men or bounty hunters. Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t do anything about it.

  He clenched his jaw, realizing he was returning to the same conclusion—he had to leave Keystone. If he stayed, it wouldn’t be long before he did something stupid. Either that, or his own personal shit would become such a distraction that he’d put his team in danger.

  Something thumped against the car, and he blinked, snapping out of his daze in time to see a body go spiraling toward the curb. He’d accidentally clipped a pedestrian. Shepherd slowed to a stop and looked back to see if he was okay. The man sat up, rubbing his noggin. Unless he was a Relic, he’d be fine.

  As soon as Shepherd took off, he heard shouts overlapping from behind. When he stopped, the brake lights lit up a group of angry men who were swarming together and heading for his Jeep.

  Claude knocked on the hood. “Better get a move on. They’re pissed.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  When a baseball bat slammed against the back end of his Jeep, he almost got out to kick some ass. But his team was more important than his ego, so instead he got the hell out of there.

  Until he looked in the rearview and saw them flashing after them.

  “Fffuck.”

  Millions of people in the city, and he hit a Mage.

  Shepherd made a sharp right turn, careening through the streets like a juggernaut. One of the men reached his door and tried to open it, so Shepherd took out his gun and fired a warning shot right in the man’s arm.

  Up ahead, a roadblock. Cars were stopped at an intersection, drivers yelling at each other. Shepherd had no choice but to stop. Claude suddenly ran down the hood and jumped, clutching a light pole and scaling it to the top. Watching the pretty boy in action was a fucking sight to behold. He was swinging from poles like Tarzan. Shepherd didn’t need to see Claude’s face to know that his eyes were black and his canines out. Claude moved like a jungle animal when he was in primal mode. Another Chitah chased after him, and when Claude reached the opposite intersection light, he turned around, and they collided midair. The two men fell to the concrete below, but Shepherd didn’t have time to watch. The man he’d struck with his Jeep had yanked the door open.

  “Got a problem, Mage?” Shepherd aimed his gun and fired. The bullet struck the man in the shoulder, knocking him back.

  Shepherd jumped from the cab, his black boots hitting the concrete with a commanding thud. “This isn’t gonna end pretty.”

  Claude rose to his feet, blood staining his face. His eyes locked on a man rounding the front end of Shepherd’s Jeep. Claude’s mouth widened, revealing all four canines. With alarming speed, he torpedoed after the man, who flashed out of sight.

  Shepherd drew back when the Mage he’d shot grabbed his arm holding the gun. A blast of energy jolted through Shepherd, causing him to drop the gun. The energy wasn’t strong enough to knock him out, but it still hurt like hell. Maybe it had to do with the guy’s injuries, or maybe he was just a weak-ass Mage. Regardless, it pissed Shepherd off.

  With his good hand, Shepherd casually reached behind his belt and pulled out a serrated stunner from the leather sheath. “Shouldn’t have done that, compadre.”

  He wielded the blade just as the Mage blasted him in the chest.

  Chapter 9

  I wasn’t sure if it was adrenaline fueling my veins or Mage light, but the four men approaching us from across the street were about to require a pain prescription. They were eyeballing me as if I were some kind of Mage juice box.

  Most men crashed into each other like a couple of apes, but I’d learned through Niko that doing the opposite was sometimes more effective in combat. Make them think you’re going in for a collision and then execute another maneuver. With a firm grip on the handle of my stunner, I streaked toward one and ducked. When I circled behind him, I plunged my knife into his kidney. The Mage fell like a stone, and I regretted not having armed myself with more weapons on my first real date with Christian.

  “One down, three to go,” I announced.

  Christian threw a deadly punch at one of the men, who spun around like a top. The Mage clutched his shattered jaw before pulling healing light from one of his buddies.

  Bastards. I hated cheaters.

  Two men flanked Christian. One of them put on a show, flashing around until Christian gave him his undivided attention. The one behind him reached in his coat pocket and pulled out what appeared to be impalement wood.

  The moon and stars supplied enough light for me to see that the man coming at me appeared no older than twenty, but this wasn’t his first rodeo. He looked confident and experienced, and the worst thing I could do was underestimate my opponent. He didn’t look like a Learner, especially the skilled way he gripped the blade in his hand. Probably a stunner.

  And I could use that stunner.

  This guy wasn’t too big, but he looked to be five feet eight inches of pure dumb. Tough guys could kick ass, but a jughead with no common sense could still lose a fight no matter how big and bad he was.

  My brain switched gears, and I settled on a new tactic. I flashed toward him like an inexperienced Mage, sharpening my light and filling my hands with energy. Only a novice would knowingly juice up another Mage with his light. As soon as I blasted him, he reached around and drove that stunner into my back. It would have been pointless to fight him for the weapon. This way he was practically giving it to me.

  I let my knees turn to spaghetti noodles, and I fell to the ground, faking paralysis.

  “Got her!” he boasted.

  No matter how many times it happened, I never got used to a knife in my back. Being immortal didn’t remove pain, but when you no longer feared death, it was amazing the things you could do.

  I grimaced against the concrete, my hair obscuring my view of the action. I needed to stay absolutely still for him to buy my act. Otherwise, I’d lose my only chance to take him out.

  Where the hell is he? Has he turned away yet?

  Christian must have caught on to my plan. After I heard a body hit the ground, he said, “Only two of you left? Have you ever fought against a Vampire and won? Do you know how easily I can compress your skull? That’s right, boys. Keep coming.” And right then, I knew he’d diverted all attention away from me.

  I reached over my shoulder, but my fingers barely touched the handle. Then I tried grabbing the dagger from underneath, but it was impossible to reach.

  “Ohhh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” I growled.

  Of all the places he could have stabbed me, he chose the one spot on my back least likely to get scratched when I had an itch. I tried propping my elbow against the concrete to force my arm higher, but it wasn’t enough. I sat up, blinking at the two men surrounding Christian.

  One flashed at him and brought down the stake. Christian parried the attack, the wood splintering against his shoulder but not sinking in. When he raked his hair back, his lips were curled in a snarl, fangs gleaming in the moonlight. I wasn’t sure if it had to do with someone almost nailing him with impalement wood or tearing his favorite suit.

  Christian locked eyes with me as I stood up. Something inexplicable transpired between us, as if we were connected in a way that transcended thought. Succumbing to that instinct, I flashed into his arms.

  Without missing a beat, Christian reached behind my back and yanked out the dagger. I nearly collapsed from the pain, but knowing what had to be done, we simultaneously turned, our backs united.

  Christian went for the big guy wielding the impalement stick. Eager to have my revenge, I lunged at the jerk who’d stabbed me in the back.

  I leapt into his arms like a child, wrapping my legs around his waist and locking my ankles. He didn’t have time to react before I sank my fangs into his neck. The Mage bellowed, yanking my hair in a desperate grapple to pry me off.<
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  Resisting the force of my head being pulled back, I drank hard and fast until his knees buckled. When he fell onto his back, I quickly let go so my arms wouldn’t get pinned beneath him. His blood wasn’t vile with dark deeds like other criminals I’d taken out, but it was no cabernet sauvignon, either.

  I slammed the man’s palms against the concrete, locking my fingers with his and squeezing them tight. “Lights out.”

  My palms heated when his Mage light pulled to the surface and entered my body. I understood why juicing could be an addictive pastime. Dark light from evil men made me sick, but this guy was probably going along with the herd. His light wasn’t pure, but as it poured into me like a river of raw power, I got a buzz that made me tingly all over. When I felt his core light just within reach, I pulled hard until a loud crack sounded, light snapping against my palms like a whip.

  I sat back, blood still wet on my tongue. Foreign energy tangled with my own, its presence as pervasive as poison ivy.

  The man’s eyes widened when he felt his immortality slip through his fingers. No pity lived in my heart for any man who would stab me in the back.

  I wondered if he was a Healer, because I felt the wound in my back seal together from the introduction of his core light. Now fueled with energy, I stood up and watched him scuttle backward before running down a dark alley.

  When I looked back at Christian, he was hunched over a body. With a slow and deliberate turn, he stood up and held out his hand. In his palm, a heart.

  He tossed it at my feet. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  My Vampire sexuality mystified me. Christian offering me the heart of an enemy sent a thrill between my legs like nothing else. The gruesome visual would have sent a normal person running, but moonlight painted everything a different color. Christian inhabited my heart. I’d never had anyone willing to kill for me—no one except for my father. And yet time and time again, Christian was by my side.

  I put away lost memories and reveled in the creation of a new one. This intimate moment we shared of fighting to keep each other alive was everything. The romance, the laughter, the rooftop dinner, the kiss, and even the danger. All the dots connected. No holes, no missing pieces—just one fantastic evening that was intact and all mine.