by Amie Gibbons
“She’s mine,” Truck said. “Melissa is mine.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal,” a normal male voice said. It was general American and completely bland besides sounding a little crackly.
Probably over a phone.
“No, the deal is you pay me for the information and for each one killed. There’s nothing in our agreement saying I have to give you every person I take. You get the ones I’m willing to sell. She’s mine. She’s staying with me.”
It was quiet.
“They’re hungry,” the man finally said. “They picked her. Your feelings are your problem, not ours. Set it up and sacrifice her. Do it today.”
“Or else what?” Truck asked.
They’d taken her from him. Somehow, they made him pull that trigger. Or tricked him into doing it.
And now he thought the same people were trying to take me away.
I snapped outta it and felt the branch rushing through the air, and tossed myself to the side.
The branch slammed into my arm instead of my head.
My arm exploded as the branch pulped it just above the elbow.
I fell to the ground with a bleat and rolled to the side on instinct as Truck brought the branch down again.
He missed my head by an inch.
I scrambled backwards using my legs and my right arm since my left wasn’t gonna be doing much but hurtin’ for a while.
If I had a while.
Truck brought the branch up again and that whole living thing was looking pretty iffy to me. I could only roll for so long.
I lunged to my feet and ran at him, tackling him around the waist and takin’ us both to the ground.
He grunted but wrapped his arms around me and rolled over, pinning me to the ground.
I bit his neck on instinct.
I did a good job of it, tearing into his flesh right over the carotid, worked my bruised jaw, tasted meat, and tore.
He jerked away, neck bruised but not broken, and I pushed, usin’ his momentum to flop him off me. I rolled up to my knees, looking around as Truck pushed up, looking like murder and violence locked in a human shell.
But I couldn’t run. I’d felt something hard and distinctly not natural under me when Truck rolled me over. I pushed around in the mulch and my hands finally found the gun.
Truck ran at me as I pulled the gun up.
He slammed to a stop and ran to the side, zigging through the trees before I could get my finger on the trigger.
He zipped back the way we’d came, zigzagging like I’d done, and I couldn’t get a clear shot.
The sounds of him crashing through the forest faded.
And he was gone.
I looked around for Collins.
I got up, holding my injured arm to my chest. I wanted to pass out.
The immediate danger was gone, so why couldn’t I just let go?
Oh yeah, I was in the woods, and would probably be eaten in my sleep if I did. And Collins, the were-snake or shifter or whatever he was, was injured somewhere close to me cuz he’d distracted the bad guy at the exact right moment.
You don’t let someone who probably saved your life bleed to death. It’s just bad manners.
“Collins?” I rasped, looking around. “Whatever your real name is?”
There! There were the bushes I was near.
So where was Collins?
I was tired, and hurt, and starving.
I had to get over to the cabins and find someone with a phone… and food. But first, I had to find Collins.
A crunching and somehow slimy sound drew my eyes to the left.
What the?
The glimpse I caught was of the scales disappearing as legs inched out of nowhere. The skin looked like it’d been touched with gold and the legs were thick with muscle.
It definitely wasn’t Andy, so we’d found another shifter for him to know. Hopefully this one wasn’t some psycho killer. That would be typical considerin’ how my week was going.
But shifters are rare and serial killers are rare, so you’ve got a great honking statistical improbability there.
Crunch.
I flinched with that one, some big bone reforming where it thought it shouldn’t.
Squelch.
I shivered, that was the sound of skin going back to where it belonged.
Squelpshhhhhhh.
I didn’t even want to know.
The sounds stopped and I looked up.
Wowza.
It’s nice to know that even exhausted, starving, and generally about to wave bye-bye to the conscious world, people still have hormones.
It was a great face.
No, actually, it was a near perfect face.
High cheekbones, strong nose, and square jaw. His lips were cupid’s bow kissable, and curved into an arrogant half smile. His hair was short and spiky, dyed a deep, midnight blue. The kind of blue the sky is just before true darkness sets in.
He blinked and bent down to my level and I stared at his eyes. They were a solid, pure dark gold.
Nothing human had those eyes.
I didn’t let my gaze wander down to the obviously naked body, though I knew from the small peek I’d gotten it was as chiseled and sculpted as a Greek statue.
“Are you in shock?” he asked.
The voice made my stomach clench.
And not just cuz I was starving.
His voice was just plain edible. I’m big on textures, that’s why I love silk and velvet, and his voice had some serious texture. I’d felt it through my visions of him, but that was just a ghost of the real thing. It was something about his presence, something that turned that thick black velvet voice from just attractive to magnetic.
And me recognizing him was the third reason for the stomach to bunch up.
Fear.
Cuz I knew him. He had a scar running down his right temple. The only thing marring all that perfection.
I knew where he’d gotten that scar.
I’d seen it in a vision last month.
So shock was a pretty good word for what I was feelin’.
Outta the frying pan and into the fire.
Chapter seventeen
“That was a nice fight,” Carvi, vampire king of Miami, said, voice gentle as his eyes searched mine. “I’m obviously not rescuing the damsel in distress.”
“Were you planning to?” I croaked.
He rocked back. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he repeated before muttering something in a language that was definitely not English. “You were screaming for help so loudly I couldn’t ignore you. And you have a gift for persuasion.”
“You heard me!”
I couldn’t help the grin.
Still, he wasn’t kiddin’ when he said he was a bad guy.
At least to the Nashville vamps.
“And I still need your help,” he said. “Can’t get that if you’re dead.”
“Oh, okay. Long as you don’t hurt me.”
“Why would I hurt you? I rather like you.”
I shook my head. “Call Grant?”
“Sure. I’ve got a phone in my car, and we need to leave. I don’t know where that man went. I own some property about an hour from here.”
“I need to get home. Everyone’s worried.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “You’re really out of it.”
I was?
Yeah, I was.
“I haven’t eaten in nearly a day,” I said, the world going fuzzy. “So if you’ll excuse me, Mister Carvi.”
My vision darkened and he looked positively shocked for a second before everything went black.
###
My eyes snapped open so fast it was like they were programmed and I was suddenly awake.
I figured I’d drift back in slowly. I also figured I’d be waking up in the hospital.
In mysteries whenever the person passes out at the end of the adventure, they always wake up in the hospital.
No such
luck.
It didn’t have the gross antiseptic scent of a hospital and the pillow under my head was hard and smooth as a rock.
It moved and I looked up into Carvi’s solid chin.
He shifted beneath me again and I realized I was sitting in his big naked lap with my head resting on his still chest.
“Oh!” I jerked away from his very built chest, blushin’ so hot you could’ve cooked an egg on my face.
Wait a second. I was touching him, and I hadn’t gotten my First Impression.
I always get a First Impression.
I pressed my hands to his skin.
“What?” I hissed.
“That’s what I was going to say,” Carvi said with that rich voice. “Now that you’re finally conscious, do you mind telling me how you knew my name? What are you?”
“I’m a Leo, what are you?” It just came out. “Okay, I’m not, I’m actually a Taurus. That’s just what my mama says whenever she wants to explain her behavior.”
“Cute.” He shifted me like I was a pillow so I was perched on one knee, like he was the Roman statue Santa Clause. I very specifically kept my eyes up on his face. “What are you?”
I grinned like a fool cuz I didn’t know what to say.
“Nice smile, I’m still waiting.”
“I’m a psychic. You know that.”
“Yesssss. But you have no clue how to navigate your powers, had no reason to be looking into me, and you knew my name without even touching me. You’re more than just a psychic.”
“Ummm. I’m not sure... Hey! I’m not all thirsty and starving anymore.”
I ran through a mental checklist. Still hungry, but not about to pass out starving. My face, arm and feet didn’t ache with bruises and cuts, and my throat felt fine.
“You gave me blood, didn’t you?” I asked. “That’s why I feel all healed and stuff.”
Again, I got that twist of those curved lips and wrinkle around the eyes that said I’d surprised him. “You do know about vampires.”
I nodded and held up my hand. “Right. Introductions. I’m Ariana Ryder. It’s nice to meet ya in the flesh. I think I told you, I’m with a section of the FBI that deals with the supernatural. We’ve worked with vamps before. And I did know who you were cuz of a vision, but it was from another vamp in our nest. I’m not gettin’ anything off you. But how were you out in sunlight?”
I wasn’t really lying… much.
He stared at me.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“An out of the way house I own, it’s one to two hours from Nashville.”
“Weren’t you gonna take me home?”
He leaned forward until his forehead was near touchin’ mine and his eyes bored into me.
“I will,” he said. “When I get some answers.”
He wrinkled his nose and jerked back. “By the way, you reek.”
“I showered and brushed my teeth this morning,” I said, “Maybe the run did me in. Sorry I didn’t shower, but ya know, busy runnin’ from a psycho and all that.”
Where was the feistiness coming from? I could go all compliant and bendy with a human psycho to survive, but not with an obviously powerful vamp who could tear off my arms and beat me to death with them?
Carvi just smiled. “Is that my blood in your system, or are you always like this?”
Ohhhh. Right. The blood.
“Can your blood alter moods?” I asked.
“Only a little. It’s more like it works with whatever emotions you already have. You’re afraid, and sick of it, so you’re acting out. I already said I won’t hurt you. I just want to talk to you and get your help. After you clean up.”
He stood and I tossed my arms around his neck to keep from falling.
I shouldn’t have bothered. His arms held me like I weighed no more than a new born babe.
“Clean up?” I looked around.
We were in a nice living room, with comfortable looking leather couches and hardwood floors. It looked a little sparse, but there were a few stuffed animals and a toy keyboard in the corner.
“Does someone else live here?” I asked.
He nodded. “I have renters. They keep the house up and run the farm for me.”
“Farm?”
“Yeah. You know, chickens, cows, crops.”
“Why does a vampire own a farm?”
He walked us into a hall and through the first door on the right into a bathroom.
“For the same reason anyone does,” he said. “You grow crops and breed animals to sell them, and humans keep living because they have food to eat. This is a small-ish wheat farm.”
“Why here?”
“Because this is the closest place I own that is also unoccupied at the moment. The family is on vacation.”
“Oh, okay. Oh yeah! Did you call Grant?”
He nodded. “I did. Had to call the FBI and jump through a ton of hoops to get to him.”
“And?”
“He was upset when I said he got his psychic back when I got some answers. That man is one rude fucker.”
I snorted.
“But, we can talk in a bit. No offense, mei vegrandis lea,” Carvi said.
Huh?
“But I won’t be able to concentrate with that stench,” he finished. “I don’t need to breathe and it’s still leaking in through my nostrils. The family has basic toiletries so you can wash, and there are even spare toothbrushes and mouthwash. I’ll see what I can do about finding you some fresh clothing but you are quite a bit smaller than Mrs. Stockert, and their oldest girl is much smaller than you.”
He sat me on the edge of the tub and his hands went for my shirt.
“Whoa!” I grabbed his wrists.
Not like that would’ve stopped him if he wanted to ignore me.
“Hold your horses, buddy. I appreciate the help, but I can undress myself.”
I have never seen anyone’s lips pull off such an arrogant sneer so beautifully. “You sound offended, Ariana.”
I didn’t like how he said my name, makin’ it obscene.
“I’m only trying to help,” he said.
“Well, I don’t strip on the first date.” I frowned and pointed to the door. “And if you want my help with something, you better not try anything.”
I sounded like Mama when she’s scolding and I struggled to hold onto it.
Because Truck, despite the crazy and bought magic, was way less dangerous than this guy.
“Usually it works the other way. I seduce and then people help me.” He gave me a smile probably meant to melt me down to my dirty, bare feet, and I shot him a scowl for his troubles.
“You play nice now, you hear?” I said in my best Mama tone. “You helped me so I’ll probably help you, dependin’ on what you need, but I’m seeing someone, so there’s no seducing.”
“Oh no, there’s always seducing,” he said before walking out, shutting the door behind him. I locked it.
Not that a lock would keep a vamp out, but it made me feel a touch better.
I stripped down and stepped back into the tub, turning the faucet.
Hot water!
I melted into it and was in heaven.
I didn’t feel like crap. I was warm. And I was getting clean.
My brain could finally try to work through everything that’d happened. Everything I’d seen. Carvi was Collins, and could walk in the daylight easy as any human.
Hell, easier than some of us northern European types judging by that tan.
Truck did have some kinda deal goin’ on, but I couldn’t quite tell with who or for what. They’d said something about a sacrifice, but he never did anything ritualistic.
At least, not on the tapes.
Maybe it was something that had to be done before, but not near the victims, so he could do it whenever and however he wanted after that.
He hadn’t wanted to give them Melissa; he’d loved her, but he still killed her.
And, exactly what did whatever that voi
ce was get out of sacrifices anyway?
What did any crazy old religions get outta them?
Ancient people sacrificed to appease the gods, feed them or prove their loyalty or something.
So, what?
Truck was sacrificing his victims to soul eating gods or something?
Or at least beings that called themselves gods.
“Demons,” I said out loud. “Somehow he’s feedin’ souls to the Other Side, and they… send money back? That doesn’t make sense. How would they even have money in this dimension?”
“For the same reason anyone does.” Carvi’s voice echoed through my mind. “You grow crops and breed animals to sell them.”
And the vamps in the Nashville nest all had businesses or jobs, ways to make money. And the person talkin’ in my vision after the big melty voice was perfectly human.
What if demons had people in this world? People who ran businesses for them?
Or even other things.
Having demons in politics would sure explain a lot.
The thoughts poured through my head too fast to keep track of and I had to take a breath and hold myself under the hot water for a moment to calm down and see the puzzle pieces.
Okay, from the top.
They could get humans to help them in exchange for power; those humans could run businesses and be their liaisons to this world, use that money for resources and power (the human political kind) and use those to get souls, and feed them back to the Other Side.
Wait. How much was I assumin’?
Did demons even eat souls?
“Yes,” a voice inside that wasn’t mine said.
“Carvi?” I asked out loud.
“What?” came through loud and clear. “You project.”
“You’re the one thinkin’ this?”
“More along for the ride and trying to help navigate.”
That should’ve bugged me more than it did.
“Demons eat souls?” I asked.
“Same as we eat blood. They just don’t need a lot to survive. To build strength though? Fuck yeah. If your boy was hired by one, it means that one is smart, smart enough to know humans will kill each other for all kinds of reasons and to capitalize on it. All the smart ones over there try.”
“You sayin’ this from experience?”
He chuckled low and deep. “You have no idea.”
