by Laura Kaye
“I promise we’ll come back for the cat, but we need to get over there now. They’ve found Chloe.”
“I don’t understand. Who’s found her?”
“The Order. I don’t have all the details. We’ll find out once we get there, but the description fits Chloe. And we need to get over there fast.”
Chapter Twenty
This would be bad, and Christian didn’t know to make it any easier.
He would have preferred to drop Tara at his place, where she would be safe, but he wasn’t convinced she would stay put. And Piers had been blunt; if they wanted to talk to the girl, they had better get there fast.
He cast a sideways glance at his passenger. Tara appeared so small huddled in the seat, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her face pale. He wanted to hold her, tell her it would all be all right, but he knew that wasn’t the case.
He sighed. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” He came around and opened the door for her, and she climbed out. At least she’d stopped shivering.
He led her toward the elevators and frowned as he noticed Piers in the shadows by the doors, one shoulder resting against the wall, his arms crossed. He appeared relaxed, but Christian could sense his tension. His eyes were fixed on Tara, and he did not look happy.
“What the fuck’s she doing here?” he asked.
“Just leave it, Piers,” Christian growled. “Where’s the girl?”
“You’re too late,” he said. “She died ten minutes ago.”
Christian put his arm around Tara as she sagged against him. “Thanks Piers,” he muttered.
Piers raised an eyebrow. “You brought her here. I did warn you. If she can’t take it, you should have left her at home. Where she belongs.”
Tara tugged at his arm. “Is he talking about Chloe?” Christian could hear the edge of panic in her voice. She was close to losing it. “Tell me. Is it Chloe?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well let’s go and find out, shall we?” Piers said.
Christian held her in the crook of his arm as the elevator descended deep below the building. She seemed to have gone somewhere within herself.
“Why did you bring the girl here?” he asked Piers softly. “You don’t usually bother with humans.”
“This one was a little different.”
Christian frowned. He hated it when Piers went all cryptic. “In what way?”
“Well, for one thing, she’s got Christian Roth written all over her. Literally. I thought you’d want to see. Besides, she was still alive. I thought she might be able to tell us something.” He pursed his lips, studied Christian for a moment. “You know this is shaping up into some sort of vendetta, and you’re the target. Just what was this girl to you?”
“If she’s who I think she is, then nothing. She’s Tara’s neighbor, I only ever set eyes on her once. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Like just about everything going on around here.”
The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Piers led them out and down the corridor to the medical center. He stopped in front of a door.
Christian turned to Tara. “Wait here. Let me check if it is Chloe first. If it isn’t, there’s no reason for you to see this.”
Tara shook her head. It was what he’d expected and he resigned himself to coping with the inevitable fallout. He’d seen demon kills before, and this wouldn’t be pretty. And if they’d killed the girl to get at him for some reason, they would have made sure it would make an impression.
Piers glanced between the two of them. “Christian, this is not a good idea.”
“I’m going in,” Tara said. She sounded determined and her small hand slipped into Christian’s and gripped it tight.
Piers shrugged. “Okay, but if you throw up, you clean it up.”
He pushed open the door. Christian followed him through and the scent of fresh blood hit him straight away. Fresh blood and charred flesh. He squeezed Tara’s hand.
They were in a small room, bare but for two beds and some medical equipment that had been pushed out of the way.
On one of the beds lay the naked and mutilated body of a young woman. He heard a sound beside him and reached out just in time to prevent Tara from collapsing to the floor in a dead faint. He picked her up in his arms, held her tight. Thankfully, she was unconscious. Crossing the room, he laid her on the empty bed, and she curled in on herself, moaning softly. He stroked her face, but she was still out, and he turned back to the body.
He stood over the bed and stared down at the corpse. Chloe was clearly recognizable; her face had hardly been touched, just her lips bitten through.
She’d been tortured, probably raped, though it was hard to tell because the damage was so bad. “Christian Roth” was branded into her flesh, not once but on every available piece of skin. She’d also been partially devoured, chunks of flesh bitten out, leaving open wounds. Her wrists and ankles were scarred by red raw bracelets.
“She was alive when you found her?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“Did she say anything?”
“Couldn’t really.” Piers gripped Chloe’s jaw and opened her mouth. Her tongue was missing. “Bitten off, by the looks of it.” He let her go and stepped back. “So, who hates you enough to send you this little present?”
“Probably any number of people, but why her? She’s nothing to me. Why go to all this bother for someone I hardly know? All the others were close to me; this one makes no sense.”
“Unless she wasn’t the one they were after.”
Christian hadn’t wanted to think about that. Now he forced himself. They had taken Chloe from Tara’s apartment. He was becoming more and more certain it had been Tara they’d come for.
He’d thought this was somehow linked to what they had discovered in Yorkshire. But what if it had nothing to do with who Tara was, except that she was close to Christian.
He had a vision of Tara lying across that bed, her body mutilated and burned, and a wave of fury surged through him so strong that Piers took a step back.
If someone had wanted to hurt him, they would have succeeded beyond measure. He cast another glance at Chloe and gave silent thanks that she had died in Tara’s place.
“What are you thinking?” Piers asked.
“That they got the wrong woman.” He nodded at the body on the bed. “She was at Tara’s place while we were away. They came for Tara and took Chloe by mistake. I doubt they even realized it. But it still doesn’t make a lot of sense. I’ve only known Tara for a short while. Why would anyone connect her to me or even think I cared enough for it to matter?”
“And does she matter?” Piers gestured to the unconscious girl on the other bed.
“Oh, yes,” Christian said softly. “But the question is who would know that? I will find out, and they will be very, very sorry.”
A small moan came from Tara. Christian dragged a folded sheet at the end of the bed to cover Chloe’s body. He crossed the room, sank down to the bed beside Tara, and stroked a finger down her face.
“I’ll leave you to deal with her,” Piers said. “I hate hysterical women. Oh, and Ella has the information you need, if you want to see her before you leave.”
He opened the door, but paused in the doorway. “By the way, did you mark her?”
Christian shook his head.
“Are you going to tell me why?”
“No.”
Piers opened his mouth to argue.
“Just leave it, Piers. I’ll vouch for her.”
Piers nodded once and closed the door behind him.
…
Tara didn’t want to wake up. Something terrible waited for her on the other side of consciousness, and she clung to the darkness.
But whether she liked it or not she became aware of someone seated beside her. It was Christian, and his fingers stroked her hair. It felt good and she pushed against his hand. Anything to delay the moment.
The air in the room h
ung heavy with the scent of blood and something else, like cooked meat. Icy cold washed over her and she huddled into the bed. Suddenly, she knew what that foul stench was—Chloe, or what was left of her. Beautiful Chloe, reduced to charred meat.
A roaring filled her head, and threatened to erupt in a scream of denial. Chloe was dead and before she died, she had suffered days of unthinkable torment. And it should have been her. It should have been Tara lying there.
She wanted to cry, but she was way past tears. She wanted to crawl into Christian’s lap, hide herself in his hard embrace, but nothing could ever comfort her for this. She would have to live with it forever. The pain would eventually fade, and she would be able to live again, but Chloe’s death would always be part of her, and would change her forever.
She would find out who did this and make them pay.
She opened her eyes and stared straight into Christian’s. Usually he was so careful to hide what he felt, but now he allowed his outrage to show, and beneath the outrage, she recognized fear. He was afraid for her. That’s what caring for people did.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Tara shook her head. She wasn’t sure she would ever be okay again. Easing his hand away, she sat up and forced herself to look at Chloe. Someone had covered the body with a white sheet.
She pushed herself off the bed. Her legs trembled, but she steadied herself and stumbled across to Chloe.
She stood over her for a minute then drew back the sheet. Chloe’s face was almost unmarked; her eyes closed as if she were sleeping. Tara forced herself to lower the sheet further. Christian moved up behind her but she ignored him. She needed to do this.
She touched one of the wounds on Chloe’s breasts, tracing a finger over the charred writing—Christian Roth. She turned and buried her face in his chest, wrapped her arms around him, and held on tight as if he could keep her safe in this terrible new world she found herself in. “This was my fault,” she said. “She would be alive if she hadn’t been my friend. It’s because of what I am, isn’t it? It’s somehow tied to what you told me in Yorkshire.”
“Actually, I don’t think it’s anything to do with what you are, and it’s not your fault. It’s mine. Someone is coming after me, killing the people I care about. I think they came for you because I care about you, and Chloe was taken by mistake.”
“Who would even know about me? Why would they think my death would cause you pain?”
“Perhaps because it’s true.”
The words filtered through the fog of pain clouding her mind, warming her frozen emotions.
Christian frowned. “The question is, who would have passed on that information to my enemies?” He stared down into her eyes, his own cold and predatory. “I will find out and they will pay for this. Come on, let’s get out of this place.”
Tara cast one last look at the body on the bed. “What will happen to her?”
Christian shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. This,” he gestured at the body, “isn’t your friend. She’s gone.”
“Gone where? I never used to believe in heaven and hell. Aunt Kathy called all religions fairy stories, but I believe in hell now. So is there also a heaven? Do people have souls? What happens after they die?”
“People have souls.”
“Yes,” she said, “I remember now, you told me you gave yours up when you became a vampire.”
“And there’s a heaven, though I’ve never been. It’s rumored that the higher demons came from there. Fallen angels banished from God’s sight.”
“I can’t believe that. Nothing that was once good could have done this.”
“It’s not that simple. This was an act of true evil, but not all demons would do this, and many would speak against it. All races have their share of psychopaths and killers. Humans are no different. You want a job done and they’re there for the hiring. My guess is the people that took Chloe were no more than hired hands.”
“Hired by whom?”
“We’ll find out, but until we do you stay by my side.”
She could do nothing more for Chloe here and she let Christian lead her out of the room.
Piers waited for them outside the door, his face expressionless.
“Where’s Ella?” Christian asked.
“There’s a problem.”
“She doesn’t have the information?”
“That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is? Stop being cryptic, Piers, I’m not in the mood.”
“I told her you were here to see her. She seemed surprised. Especially when I mentioned Tara was with you. And not nice surprised either. I didn’t think too much about it, but she was stopped a few minutes ago trying to leave the building.”
Christian appeared calm but beneath she sensed a raw, savage fury.
“How come they stopped her?” he asked.
“They wouldn’t have normally, but I’ve upped to emergency status. From now on, no one leaves or enters the building without my authorization.”
Tara put her hand on Christian’s arm and he glanced down at her. “What’s happening?” she asked softly.
“I think we may have found our traitor.”
“Ella?”
He nodded. Tara thought back to her meeting with the witch, that last glimpse of her as they left the building and the malicious hatred on the other woman’s face. That someone she hardly knew would hate her so much sent a ripple of shock through her. The shock was followed by a wave of rage so strong she almost staggered under the force.
“Where is she?” she snarled, and Piers glanced at her, amazement on his face. He raised an eyebrow at Christian, who shrugged.
“I’ve got her in the holding cells. She’s ranting that she hasn’t done anything, and that she didn’t know about the lockdown.”
“Maybe she needs to believe that’s the only reason she’s being held. I need the information she has first. Let me talk to her.”
“I’m going with you,” Tara said. “This is about me, and Chloe was my friend. I promise I’ll be good, stay quiet.”
She held her breath, waiting for his reply. After a moment, he nodded. “Okay.”
Piers led them into a lower area where the walls were bare concrete with fluorescent strip lighting. He stopped in front of a door and asked the guard, “Has she been quiet?”
“No, she’s been screaming to let her out. But there’s not much she can do about it—these cells are warded.”
Piers unlocked the door and Tara followed Christian into the room. Piers closed the cell door behind them and leaned against it.
They were in a rectangular room, empty but for a table and two chairs. Ella stood in the corner of the room. She was dressed in tight black leather pants and a black T-shirt and her skin appeared white against the darkness. Her eyes fixed on Christian briefly, then flicked to her, and Tara saw again that same malevolent hatred. But mixed with the hatred was shock. It was obvious Ella was surprised to see her.
Tara knew the witch was guilty—responsible for Chloe’s death.
Hatred welled up inside her. Her vision narrowed so all she saw was the other woman. She took a step forward, but Christian halted her with a warning hand on her arm.
It took a force of will to stop. Blood thundered in her veins and her breath came in quick, sharp pants. She calmed and stepped back to stand beside Piers, who took her hand in his and pulled her against his side. He stroked the skin of her palm with his thumb, which calmed her. Christian sank onto one of the wooden chairs. “Sit,” he ordered Ella.
She hesitated for a moment then sat in the second chair.
“So,” Christian said, his voice devoid of emotion, “do you have the information I asked for?”
Ella frowned as though it wasn’t the question she had been expecting. “The information?”
“The name of the warlock who made Tara’s talisman.”
Her face cleared, and she nodded. “I think so.”
“Think so?” Now his voice sounded deadl
y.
“I have it. I just can’t think straight in here.” Her eyes darted back to Piers. “Why am I in here? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Don’t worry,” Christian said and now his voice was soothing. “I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. You didn’t know about the lockdown. You won’t be here for long.”
Ella relaxed and it occurred to Tara that Christian was using his vampire powers on the other woman. It obviously occurred to Ella as well because she jerked herself upright and panic entered her eyes.
“The warlock, Ella, give me a name.”
She fought the compulsion hard. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. When she opened them, except for the nervous twisting of her hands on the tabletop, she appeared back in control. “You’ll let me go if I tell you?”
“You know that’s not up to me, but if you’ve done nothing wrong there’s no reason for Piers to keep you here.”
She seemed to come to a decision. “Jonas Callaghan,” she said. “The warlock who made the talisman was Jonas Callaghan.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded, the movement jerky. “We have a file on him. He lives in London. There, I’ve told you. Now can I go back to work?”
Christian sat back in his chair. The mask dropped from his face, taking with it all signs of civilization.
“Hey,” Piers muttered, and Tara realized she’d gripped his hand tight, her nails digging into his flesh. She dropped his hand, and he shook it. “You know you have quite a grip for a human.”
“Now,” Christian said, “perhaps we can get to the other matter.”
“What other matter?” Ella sounded shaken.
“The matter of betrayal.”
She looked around wildly. “I haven’t betrayed anyone.”
“I don’t believe you. Why were you running?”
“I wasn’t running. I just had something I needed to do. I forgot about the lockdown.”
Christian slammed his fist onto the wooded table. “Tell me,” he growled.
Ella licked her lips. “If I tell everything, will you let me go?”
“No. But I will make you an oath. We have just left the body of a young woman. She’d been tortured, raped, and mutilated. That woman’s last few days will seem like a party compared to yours if you don’t talk.”
