by LJ Swallow
The knife is heavy in my hand, and I debate whether to give the weapon back. I don't need this.
"Take it, Vee," replies Heath.
Xander pulls out two more. "I don't want to use powers on the one guy, in case he's bait and there's a horde of others waiting to attack. A knife will do."
A thought strikes me as he sheathes and then tucks the knife into his jacket. Did Xander agree I could join them because he thinks we'll need my powers? Is he finally trusting my ability, despite my inability earlier?
"Plan?" Heath asks Xander.
"Stay undercover and watch what he does. If he stays inside the hall, we follow. If he comes back out, we grab him. Whoever the hell it is, they have info."
The grassed area between the car park and hall is muddy, and we squelch through, keeping to the shadows. As we move to the building rear again, Xander holds up a hand to indicate we stop. The door is ajar and the two figures appear, one dragging the other from the building. Light shining from inside casts across the pair, and my heart skips out of rhythm when I see who one is.
The brown-haired guy's wearing glasses, but that's the only Seth-like part of his appearance. Seth’s clothes are dishevelled, and he doesn't struggle against the grip the guy has around his neck. The biker guy's face illuminates briefly, impassive and unremarkable, but the strength he has over Seth isn't.
"Shit!" mutters Heath.
"What the hell is Seth doing back here?" growls Xander. "How did we miss him?"
I move to run toward the pair, but Xander grips my arm. "No. Wait."
"What?" I hiss. "Seth could be about to die!"
Heath rubs his forehead with the back of his sleeve. "She's right. Come on."
The man holding Seth drags him into the trees bordering the building. "Go after him!" I urge.
"Check the building," he says to Heath. "I'll deal with the guy and Seth. Vee, hang back and watch Heath."
Xander unsheathes his knife and walks into the shadows, his back to the wall as he creeps beneath the building's eaves in the direction of the trees. Heath takes my hand and squeezes.
"You okay, Vee?"
I look away from his concerned smile. No. I'm not the Vee who was here earlier. I’ll prove I’m stronger than her. Seth won’t die too.
XANDER
Well this adds a new dimension to the situation.
I only glimpsed his face for a few moments, but I've encountered this guy enough to know who he is. Taron, the mercenary who has the cheek to call himself a supernatural vigilante. Did Heath not recognise him too?
The last time I searched for Vee alone, I encountered Taron. I suspected, and accused, him of looking for Vee too. He refused to admit this, claiming he was searching for a rogue shifter drawing too much attention to a local pack. His job isn't too far removed from ours, and as he's a vamp against other supes, we allow him to work as long as he keeps his hands and weapons off humans.
If Taron doesn't kill humans, so why is he with Seth?
From my hiding place, I watch and weigh up the situation as Taron holds Seth against a nearby tree trunk, Seth's feet off the ground. I strain to hear their urgent voices and catch Seth's panicked tones. My muscles coil, ready to intervene and judging by what's happened to his friends, this situation doesn't look good for Seth.
Surely Taron can't be responsible for the other human deaths? The victim's injuries and taunting messages aren't his modus operandi, so what the hell is happening here?
Taron drops Seth to his feet, who grips the trunk, pushing himself back as if trying to blend in and escape. As Taron lifts his arm, hand curled into a claw ready to strike, I charge forward and slam into him. Caught by surprise, Taron loses his footing and sinks to the floor, and Seth cries out as Taron's claw-like nails dig into his arm. Seth lands on the ground too, clutching the wound.
Taron's anger shifts to shock as he looks up from the leaf-littered ground to where I stand over him. Strands of black hair escape his ponytail, and his dark eyes glitter in his pale face.
"What are you doing?" I snarl and slam a boot onto Taron's chest. "He's human."
Taron makes an ‘oof’ sound and grabs my ankle but can't move me. "I was given a job to do."
"To kill him?" I press my boot harder.
Taron coughs a laugh at me. "How's life, Horseman?"
"Safer than yours is right now." I snap my head around to Seth, whose white face matches that of the vampire right now. "Seth, get back into the hall. Heath and Vee are in there. You'll be safe."
The guy doesn't need asking twice. He scrambles to his feet and bolts around the corner to the doorway, almost losing his footing on damp leaves.
I look down at his assassin, pissed off there’s no fear in his passive face. "Who hired you to kill Seth?"
"No idea. My employers don't often reveal their names, do they? I didn't realise he was your mate!"
"Get up!" I demand and remove my foot. The moment Taron's on his feet, I yank him by the shirt so we're nose to nose. "Did you kill the girl?"
"What girl?"
"His friend."
"First time I've met the guy. Don't know anything about him."
This doesn't add up. I push Taron against the tree he held Seth against, itching to end his life with the knife in my jacket, but control the urge. Taron has answers. We find those first—then he dies. This rogue vamp always trod on thin ice, thanks to his activities, and he just fell through.
"How did you know Seth would be here?" I ask.
"The human? He was dumped here an hour ago—I waited for a text telling me to come. I was warned you might be around, but we have an understanding, yeah, Xander?"
I narrow my eyes. Is that why someone chose to recruit Taron? Because he's above suspicion by the Horsemen? "No."
"Hey, I helped you in the past."
I lean in and growl into his face, "Killing a human breaks our treaty, Taron."
"I didn't know he was human until I arrived!"
"But it didn't stop you, did it?" I snarl. "Tell me who hired you."
"Like I said, no fucking clue. Money is in my bank account. I do my job, and I'm set for retirement with that kind of money." Taron’s impassive attitude doesn’t change, which pisses me off more. Doesn’t he realise the shit he’s landed himself in?
I drag Taron away from the tree, then spin him around and lock an arm around his throat. "How about I take you inside and see if I can jog your memory."
Taron finally struggles against me as I half drag the reluctant vamp across the ground towards the building. He matches my height, though his slim build is deceptive. Vampires are strong. Me? Stronger. Always. The situation could’ve ended badly for Seth, but I’m lifted by the hope we could have a real lead.
5
XANDER
In the hall, a battered Seth sits on the sofa holding his arm. Poor guy looks like he's been through some shit. Either Taron roughed him up first, or someone else is responsible for his torn clothes and bruised face.
Heath wraps a makeshift tourniquet made from Seth's shirt around his arm, while Vee stands beside them, her knuckles white around the blade held in front of her.
Oh fuck, she'd better not freak out again.
"What the hell?" says Heath. "Taron? What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Nice to see you, man."
I bristle at his smug attitude. Does he really think he's getting out of here alive? I pull an overturned chair upright and shove Taron onto the seat. "Talk."
He ignores me and turns his head to appraise Vee. "This Truth? You found her, then? She's cute."
Vee points the knife in Taron’s direction. "Who is he?"
He continues to trace an interested gaze over Vee as Heath answers her. "He's a vamp. Rogue. Works as an assassin but for supes, not humans."
"Are your colleagues involved?" I interrupt. "Should I look outside for them, too?”
"Colleagues?" Taron snorts. "You mean Syv and her deadbeat friend? We're not colleagues."
I don�
��t care what he says, Taron trades information and occasionally clients with Syv and Abel. Syv’s activities are less blood-thirsty than Abel and Taron’s; she’ll kill if asked but her expertise in locating and "rehoming” magical items pays her more. Nobody knows exactly what or who she is, but we’ve never had issues with her. Abel–another vamp and a straightforward, skilled assassin. He’s hit our radar a couple of times, but is aware we watch what he’s doing.
"You work together," I reply.
"No, we respect each other's work and sometimes pass on info. No way was I sharing this job with them."
"Why?" asks Heath.
"What can I say? I had an offer too good to turn down that I didn’t want them getting a sniff of. Mine's a dangerous job, and the cash I'm being paid for this would set me up for a long time. Twenty year holiday, maybe."
I stare down at him. His hair and clothes are damp from outside, black jacket open across a black shirt. Dark denim covers his legs and his boots could kick someone into next week if needed. The dark brown eyes set in his gaunt face are rimmed by red. He pushes strands of hair from his eyes, his long nails covered in blood. "Paid for by who?"
"I said I have no fucking clue."
"The money magically appeared in your account?" says Heath derisively.
"Half did. The rest arrives once I provide evidence the job's done."
"He's lying," says Vee. "Taron met the person, but doesn't know who he is."
"Who? Demon? Human?" I snap
Taron shrugs, then tips his head towards Vee again. "Do you know how to use the knife, sweetheart? You don’t look like you’d be much help to anybody.”
Fuck this. I punch Taron in the face, bone cracking on bone, but he just wipes the blood from beneath his nose and laughs at me.
"How many humans have you killed?" I snarl.
"None. This would be the first. I didn't know he was, or I wouldn't have taken the job!"
"But you didn’t walk away, Taron.” I jab a finger into his chest. "You could've walked away. Stupid move, man."
"Who was it you saw?" interrupts Heath.
Taron rocks the chair back onto two legs. "Human. Maybe? I dunno, hard to tell sometimes. The guy was tall. I think."
"You think?"
The bravado drops from his expression and his brow knits. "I'm not sure, he looked..." He hits the side of his head with a palm as if attempting to push a thought into place. "Tall. Hair was... Dunno." He blinks. "I can't picture him anymore."
"Oh yeah, how fucking convenient." I reward his lack of information with another punch.
Taron's head reels back and the chair almost tips. He rights himself and scowls at me. "Beat the shit out of me if you want, but I don't have any answers."
"Bullshit," I growl.
I rub my knuckles and stand over him. The guy knows who we are, and he'd be stupid to fuck with us, but he's bloody trying. I'm tempted to cover that sneering face in more blood, and if he doesn't talk soon, I'm going to lose my shit.
Taron jerks and his eyes widen, before he takes a huge gasping breath. Huh, I didn't hit him that hard.
"Just talk, Taron, and we might be nicer to you," says Heath.
"Speak for yourself," I mutter.
Taron heaves another breath and squeezes his eyes closed. "Fuck!" His body jerks again and trembling runs through his arms, spreading to his legs. What the hell? He doubles over and attempts to clutch the sides of the chair, and wheezes.
I step back. This isn't a performance for us. "Taron?"
He lifts his head and stares at Seth who returns his terrified look. "Chaos. It's fucking chaos," he rasps out.
"Yeah that's one word to describe the situation," snorts Heath. "You have no idea the shit you're involved in."
Taron continues to choke as if I held my hands around his throat. He shakes his head, eyes bulging as he drags nails at his chest and scratches until blood seeps through the shirt. Taron tugs in desperation and rips at his collar as if the material suffocates him.
Shit. Magic? How much time do we have? "Is anybody else coming here?”
He shakes his head and jabs a finger at Seth as garbled sounds come from his mouth.
"What? Is he in danger? Who wants him dead? Tell us!"
Heath approaches and places a hand on my arm. "I don't think we'll get any more info out of Taron."
I drag both hands though my hair and swear.
Vee steps forward and breaks her silence. "What's that?" She points at his shoulder with her knife.
Taron's torn shirt reveals the edges of a glowing mark on his chest, above the collarbone. I pull his shirt further to one side ignoring his desperate whimpering as he grips at my wrist.
A circular, runed symbol I've never seen before glows white with an intensity to match the light Heath can produce. I've seen runes branded on creatures many times, but scorched or drawn, not this. I'm no expert, but I don't recognise it either. Fae or demon runes have hallmark symbols incorporated, but there's none in this simplistic one.
"Who did that?" I ask, but Heath's right. Seth isn't about to answer any more questions.
The guy's energy ebbs as his eyes well with blood, and when he opens his mouth to speak blood gushes between his lips. I've seen vamps die many times, usually when I slice their heads off, and I give them clean deaths. Instant. If I'd want to torture one, I'd skewer their dark hearts and watch as the creature drowns slowly and painfully in its own blood.
Like this.
But he wasn’t injured when we found him, and his self-inflicted scratches didn't do this. What the fuck is happening?
The blood continues to flood from Taron’s mouth and pools on the floor. He stares back at me, immobile, the expression telling me he’s aware as we are he won’t survive.
"Kill him,” whispers Heath. "I don’t want to watch this.”
I waver. He means Vee shouldn’t watch this. I've dealt with Taron as an uneasy ally. We don't get along, but until today, I thought we were on the same side. Maybe it’s not too late to get info from him.
What the hell is the mark on his shoulder?
Distracted by my thoughts, I don't have a chance to respond when Vee steps between us, holding her knife horizontally. I reel when she shoves the blade hard into Taron's bloodied throat, remembering the day outside, when I showed her the knives and told her she could kill or defend herself. But this isn't self-defence.
Taron's head separates from the neck as if Vee sliced through butter, the way I told her when she was hesitant back then. The blood flow stops, cauterised by the silver in the knife as it does with the species, and she stares down as the head tumbles to the floor. Taron's body slumps and he rolls from the chair.
Holy shit.
His hands begin to shrivel as the decay from death held at bay for years takes hold, and I whip out my phone to photograph the mark that killed him, before his body disintegrates
I wait for Vee to collapse back onto the sofa beside her human friend, but she remains upright, staring down at the scene in front of her. Seth groans and drops his head onto the sofa arm muttering, breathing laboured in panic.
Heath joins in my stunned staring at Vee. Turning away from the body, she drops the knife to the floor and looks to me. The last time we were here, and she witnessed death, Vee's eyes filled with terror.
This time they glitter in anger, and in them, I recognise myself.
"He killed people, now I've killed him," she says in a low voice. "He was going to kill Seth.”
I look to the ceiling. Vee helped end his suffering, but would she have ended his life anyway? Did her need for revenge take over, and she lashed out without thinking?
I don't need to ask myself these questions because I'm acutely aware of the answers.
When War takes hold, thinking switches off.
6
VEE
Seth walks into the farmhouse, hesitant as he looks at the surroundings, holding his hand over the wound. Xander walks ahead and Heath hangs back with us. Is Se
th's pale face due to the wound or his nerves around the guys? As he's about to be interrogated by Xander, probably both.
Ewan appears in the doorway and halts for a moment as he sees Seth, welcoming face switching to narrow-eyed suspicion. "So this is the elusive DoomMan, huh? What happened to your friend?"
Ewan strides over and I stand between him and Seth. "He's injured, Ewan. Back down." Ewan's eyes flick over Seth's bloodied jacket. "We found him back at the hall."
Seth rests against the wall, perspiration covering his pallid face. Heath managed to stop the bleeding, but I'm worried by the amount of blood soaking through his shirt.
I place a hand on Seth’s in an attempt to comfort.
"Was that his teeth?" asks Ewan.
Seth shakes his head and grimaces. "Nails."
"He needs medical treatment," replies Xander. "But we didn't want to leave him at the hospital. I'm not letting this guy out of my sight again."
"Yeah, I agree we should talk to Seth before he disappears again," says Ewan in a low voice. "I'd like to hear what happened to Casey, and where he's been today."
"Xander's right.” Joss nods at Seth. "What if the demons succeed in killing him next time?"
Seth takes a sharp take of breath. "Take me to a hospital. I don't care."
I expected Xander to be the one reluctant to allow Seth into the house, not Ewan. He’s never met the guy; he shouldn't form an opinion until we talk.
"Yeah, but we don't let people on the property," says Ewan to the guys. "That was always our rule."
This conversation's pointless. Seth needs help, and the other guys clearly don't want to. "Joss.” I take Seth by his uninjured arm. "He needs help with his wounds."
Joss helps me guide Seth into the kitchen where he sits him at the table. I look away as Joss peels away the blood-soaked shirt tourniquet and studies the wound. "That's a hell of a gash."
Seth forces a smile. "Fucking hurts."
"Vampire," I say.
Joss's head jerks up. "Vampire? Is that who's killing people?"
"Xander doesn't think so."
