by Laken Cane
When I finally climbed under the covers, clean and so very, very tired, I was sure I’d drift right to sleep.
But after forty-five minutes of exhausted wakefulness, I dragged a pile of covers and my pillows to the closet and pulled the door shut after me.
Everyone—and everything—was shut out, and I was safe.
I slept.
Strangely enough, I dreamed not of Angus and the potential scorching hot sex, nor of Copas and my perceived betrayal, nor even of my own brokenness and the fact that I’d done something too awful to contemplate in protecting Amias.
I dreamed of Rhys Graver and the foam-carrying incubus, who, in my dreams, were one and the same.
When I awakened, I opened my eyes to find the closet door open and Angus crouched in the doorway, watching me. “Trin,” he said, when I opened my eyes. His voice was calm, but his eyes were mournful.
I sat up, angry because I could feel the heat of embarrassment climbing my cheeks. I glared at him. “What?”
He stood. “Shane’s back, honey.”
“Okay,” I muttered. “He’s alive. He’s alive.” I shoved the covers aside and jumped to my feet, and he stood aside as I strode past him. “What time is it?”
“A little after noon.”
I rubbed my arms, then turned to look at him, almost afraid to ask the question, but I needed to hear the answer more than anything. “Is he…?”
He shrugged, then grinned. “He’s raging, but he’s no vampire.”
I was afraid to believe him. “How do you know?”
“For one reason, he walked into this house under his own steam. If Amias had turned him, he’d be out of commission for at least a couple of weeks while his master…” He shrugged. “It takes a while for a vampire to transition. And he came in a couple of hours ago, Trin. In the daylight.”
“Oh, my God.” I reached out to clutch his big arm. “That’s great. That’s unbelievable.” His muscles rippled under my fingers and I realized suddenly that I was touching him. I dropped my hand and crossed my arms.
“He was being a pissy little bitch, of course.” Angus gave a tiny shiver and stuck his hands into his pockets. “But he and I had a nice long talk. He’s calmed down.”
I frowned. “I saw his attack. He lost so much blood. How is he okay?”
“The vampire got to him fast, I guess. Copas is weak, but he’s stubborn. He’ll be fine.”
“Amias fed him, didn’t he? He had to. Shane lost so much blood.”
“Most likely, but that’s a secret he’ll carry to his grave. I wouldn’t go asking him about it if I were you.”
I snorted and dashed away the tears of relief standing in my eyes. “I’m not stupid.”
“Another thing,” he said.
I sighed. “Of course there is.”
“Clayton is downstairs. The man with the Foam of Aphrodite is indeed an incubus. What do you know about these demons?”
I shook my head. “Not a lot. Offspring of a demon and a human, sucks out a person’s life force to live.” I shrugged. “Not much else.”
“Get dressed. Come down for breakfast. Clayton will explain everything he learned and some of what he suspects.” He eyed me. “Your heart is too soft, Trin.”
I paused on my way to the dresser. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You can’t change what Clayton Wilder is.”
I pulled open a drawer and rifled through it to keep from looking at him. “And what is he?”
“He’s the necromancer’s property. And he will be until she lets him go back to his grave.”
“What if she never does?” I murmured, surprised at the little flare of grief that sparked inside me when I thought of Clayton dying.
“Then he will belong to her forever.”
I grabbed some underwear from the drawer, then slammed it shut, barely noticing when Angus’s stare lingered on my silky panties. “That’s not right. There has to be a way to help him get his freedom.”
“Trinity, he killed her daddy.” He finally looked away from my undies when I wadded them up inside my fist. “Tortured the man. Miriam watched the whole thing.”
The blood drained from my face so suddenly I swayed. “What?”
He nodded, solemnly. “She was little more than a kid. Neither man was aware of her. She hid in the kill room, terrified out of her mind, and watched as Clayton tortured and murdered the man she loved most in the world. That broke her mind, Trin.”
“My God,” I whispered.
I only realized I was crying when Angus slid his thumb through the wetness on my cheek. “He’s hers, sweetheart. And she deserves to keep him.”
I nodded, then turned abruptly and slipped into the bathroom. The horror of the world was sometimes too overwhelming. Too dark.
I let the hot water rush over my back and did with Miriam’s story what I did with my own. I beat it, subdued it, and hid it away in as deep a corner of my mind as I could find.
There wasn’t really any other way I could live with it.
By the time I joined Clayton downstairs, I was calm and even slightly cheerful. But I couldn’t look at him the same way I had.
I knew I never would.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The huge house was mostly silent, though I heard a vacuum cleaner somewhere in the distance, sucking up the debris left behind by a dozen kids.
Clayton sat tall and silent at the large table, and after I poured myself a huge mug of coffee and grabbed a package of cookies, I joined him. The house possessed a large, formal dining room, but nearly everyone in the house preferred the kitchen and the battered old wood table to the dining room. That particular room was utilized for large Thanksgiving and other family dinners, when the children’s mothers and extended relatives descended upon the house.
“Angus says you have new information about the attacker,” I said.
“Yes,” Clayton responded when I sat down. “I do.”
At last, I looked at him. I tried to keep my emotions out of my face but was pretty sure I was unsuccessful when he studied me for a few seconds, then gave a small sigh.
A light in his eyes seemed to flicker like a sputtering candle flame, and then it was extinguished, leaving only a dull emptiness behind.
Maybe I’d been the only person who’d ever been in his corner—at least since he’d been brought back. Maybe I’d been the only person not to look at him with contempt. Maybe I’d been the only person who looked at him the way a woman looks at a man.
And maybe he was sad to see that go.
I couldn’t feel bad about that. I couldn’t.
But fuck me if I didn’t.
Peppered in with the judgment were the memories of how he’d touched me, how his lips had felt against mine, how his voice had sounded when he’d whispered my name.
God. God.
“What did you find out?” I asked, my voice a little hoarse. I dropped my gaze, unable to think clearly when the remembered heat of him was fierce enough to burn me.
“Trinity,” he said, quietly. “Someday I’ll—”
I shook my head hard to dislodge the images. “What, Clayton? What will you do? Convince me that torturing a man in front of his daughter doesn’t make you a monster? I don’t want to hear it.” I sat back and crossed my arms. “Just tell me what you found out about the demon. He’s the only asshole I want to think about right now.”
He inclined his head. “He’s definitely an incubus.” He slipped his hand into his suit jacket and emerged with a folded piece of paper. “The name he uses is Seth Damon. We traced him back sixty years. Back then, he didn’t kill his victims. He took what he needed and left them alive, as most incubi do. The victims would have thought they had the flu for a week or two afterward. This drawing came from one of his later victims—he nearly killed her but she escaped with the help of her boyfriend.”
“I glimpsed his face.” I stared down at the drawing. In the picture, he looked…human. Surprisingly normal. Handsome,
with intense eyes and short, dark hair. The face I’d barely seen had been…terrible.
“That’s his façade,” Clayton said. “Some humans believe vampires can’t be photographed, but they can. Demons can’t be photographed. At full power, he could change his façade to look like anyone he wanted. If he’s sick, he’ll stick to the easiest disguise, which is the one you’re holding now. And it’s beginning to crack.”
“That’s why he wears the hood,” I said. “To hide his face.”
He nodded. “He no longer has the energy to maintain it. At least not all the time.” He took back the drawing, then continued. “If we don’t find him before the humans discover the foam, there will be trouble. He’s not going to leave Red Valley.”
“Because of me.”
“Yes. And because his time is running out. I think this is his last stand.”
We stared at each other in silence. I didn’t see worry or doubt in his eyes, but I knew mine would be full of both. Clayton believed he and the others could really help me defend myself against a hungry, desperate demon.
I wasn’t so sure.
“Some time ago,” Clayton said, “he came and never left. I don’t think that was his choice. I think he’s stuck here, and in order to go home, he has to generate a huge amount of energy.”
I nodded. “Energy from a hunter.”
“No. Energy from a bloodhunter.”
“And because we’re so rare…”
“He’s fixated on you. He’s found you, and until we kill him, he will be a threat to you. But there’s a problem.”
“Demons can’t be killed,” I murmured.
“Exactly.”
“Then what do we do?”
“I’d like to find a way to help him return to his world. A way that doesn’t involve him killing you.”
“I would like that as well,” I acknowledged.
He gave me a ghost of a smile.
I didn’t return it. “Do you have any ideas about how to do that?”
He hesitated. “No. I’ll let you know when I do.”
His hesitation made me think he knew more than he was telling me, but I didn’t press the issue. “Anything else?” I asked.
He stared over my head, his eyes about as blank as I’d ever seen them. “Miriam has not retracted her orders that I protect you.”
I dunked a cookie into my coffee. “What happens if you disobey her? Will you die?”
He laughed, a sharp, humorless bark of sound that was nearly sharp enough to cut me. “I would have disobeyed her long ago if death were the outcome.”
“The reward,” I realized.
He lowered his stare to mine. “Yes.”
I released a soft breath, suddenly tired. “Life is hard.”
That time, when he laughed, it held genuine amusement. “At times.” He sobered. “It has been a very long time since I laughed, Trinity.”
And despite everything, I softened once again toward the man who was Miriam’s nightmare. But only a little. Thank God, only a little.
I put the conversation back on the demon. “How do you think he makes the foam?”
He shrugged. “The Foam of Aphrodite has always been immersed in mystery. It’s believed that it was originally created by the faeries, and the demons stole it, then modified it. We think it’s made from sperm and blood, some of the energy they steal from their victims, and the…magic, you could call it, inside them. ”
I stood abruptly and carried my empty mug to the sink. “So we have a face and a name for him. We just have to figure out how to ship him back to his world.”
“We have to keep you alive,” he said.
I rinsed my cup, then put it in the drainer. “That, too.”
My cell vibrated and I pulled it from my pocket, then put it to my ear. “Captain.”
“Frank,” he reminded me. “I wanted to touch base.”
I hesitated. “I picked up Gray’s tracks but lost him in the woods off Raeven’s Road.”
“The two dead humans,” he said. “Stark called me.”
I hesitated. “The humans…”
“They’ll serve as further cautions to those who think it might be fun to hang with the monsters.” His voice was brusque, and maybe even a little bitter. “They need to know it’s not so fun to bleed and die.”
I nodded, though he couldn’t see me. “I’m going back out tonight. I’ll be in contact.”
“Thanks, Sinclair.” He cut the connection.
I slid my phone back into my pocket. It wasn’t likely Shane was going to be up for a little tracking so soon, even if he were so inclined to give me another chance. It didn’t matter. I’d feel better going alone. Less risky that way.
At least for my partner.
“I’ll be with you,” Clayton said, as though he knew exactly what I was thinking.
I only nodded. He had his orders, and if I refused to let him go along, he’d simply follow me. No sense wasting my time or breath arguing about it.
“Clayton,” I said. “If the demon stays in Red Valley, dead human bodies will start piling up. Can we blame it on the vampires?”
“We can try.”
If the humans believed the vampires were responsible, the heat would be taken off the supernats. The vampires were hated and persecuted anyway, and they deserved their hard lives. They ate humans. They became infected and went nuts and tore people up. I could understand the hatred.
But the supernaturals of a city played by the rules.
I shuddered, imagining Angus’s children hauled in, separated, and imprisoned if things started going sideways. Their freedom was tenuous, and they lived with an insidious, creeping fear and insecurity I could barely comprehend or imagine. Every single day of their lives.
The supernaturals just wanted to live their lives. For the most part, they hurt no one, and I would do everything I could to help funnel the blame from them to the vampires.
We could tell the humans an incubus was on the loose, but they’d want someone they could catch. Someone they could see, and someone they could hurt—so until we contained the demon, the humans were getting the vampires.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Crawford wants me to bring Gray to him,” I told Clayton. He rode shotgun as I drove us through the city, searching for the familiar misty trails that belonged to Gordon Gray. “He and his family want to face his niece’s murderer.”
“They want to torture him,” Clayton said.
I nodded. “True enough. But I can’t bring myself to care.”
He looked at me, and his eyes held a grim smile. “If you become close with one vampire, you’ll begin to care about all of them. Your indiscriminate killing and torture of vampires will come back to haunt you.”
I frowned, angry that he would make me consider something that should have been an impossibility given my history.
But I’d protected Amias, and things had changed.
I had changed, and we both knew it.
Still, I wasn’t ready to admit it. “Not going to happen,” I muttered. Then, “Your feelings for Miriam don’t make you hate all women. Or all supernats.”
“I don’t hate Miriam.”
“You’d have to,” I scoffed.
He kept his silence, and I didn’t press. How could he not hate Miriam? She enslaved him. Humiliated him. Hurt him. Of course he’d hate her.
Reluctantly, I turned the car in the direction of Raeven’s Road. I didn’t want to go back there, but that was where I’d pick up his scent. Somewhere in the woods off that road, Gordon Gray was hiding out.
I just had to find him.
Then I had to try capturing him without killing him so the captain and his family could get some revenge. It wouldn’t bring back Lucy, but it’d give them a little satisfaction. Maybe.
“Best case scenario,” I said, more to myself than Clayton, “I’ll find his den, then go back when he’s sleeping to silver him. When the sun goes down, I’ll take him to the captain.”
My cell rang and I dug it out of my pocket. Clayton grabbed the dashboard when I glanced down at my phone and nearly ran us off the road, but I pretended not to notice.
“Captain?” I put the phone on speaker.
“We have a dead body,” Crawford said. “CSI is done, so you can come have a look.” He gave me the address. “I’m hoping you’ll get his scent and track the bastard down. This has priority, Sinclair.”
I understood. His need to avenge Lucy and appease her family was important to him—very important—but catching the vampire currently killing the women of Red Valley was crucial, and it was urgent. “Of course,” I said. “You’re there now?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m on my way.” And maybe I was a little relieved at the delay in traipsing back down Raeven’s Road.
“Sinclair,” he said, before I could end the call.
Something in his voice made my stomach tightened and my heart begin to beat a little too fast. “Yes?”
“A substance was discovered on one of the bodies.”
Clayton and I traded dread-filled stares. “What substance?” I asked the captain. As if I didn’t know.
“A drug that’s been banned for decades, and one that hasn’t surfaced in all the years I’ve been on the force.”
The Foam of Aphrodite. They’d found it.
Unfortunately for the supernaturals, they’d found it.
And that was going to change everything—a lot sooner than we’d believed.
“I’m on my way,” I repeated. I glanced at Clayton as I pushed the phone back into my pocket. “This is bad.”
He nodded. “The vampires aren’t killing the Red Valley women. The incubus is.”
I smacked the steering wheel. “Shit!” Then I frowned. “But there were fang punctures on the bodies. They were drained. The incubus couldn’t have done that, could he?”
“Maybe,” Clayton told me. “But I don’t know why he would.”
“I’m going to have to tell the captain about the incubus. If I don’t, they’ll start looking at the supernaturals.”
“If there’s no incubus to give them, they’re going to be looking at the supernaturals anyway.”
When we arrived at the scene, there was a small crowd of people standing outside the taped-off area, most of them craning their necks to get a glimpse of the corpse.
