Kendra stood as well, wishing desperately there was a back door in the bar. Maybe there was, through the kitchen, but she’d rather not make such a scene as to run for it. Unfortunately, that left only one route out, and William Rynquist stood between her and it. He started toward her. Looking down, Kendra tried to brush past him, but he blocked the way with his body, glaring down at her. She held up her hands between them.
“Will, I—”
“It’s Rynquist to you, Fraccas,” he growled. Other patrons of Fletcher’s were shooting them curious glances. Two vampires at the bar had turned to watch. Apparently, William wasn’t as concerned about scenes as she was.
“Let me pass,” she said, trying not to sound like she was begging.
“Where is she? I know you know something. You and your godforsaken clan are probably in on it.”
“I don’t know anything, I’m sorry, I know you—”
He advanced again, causing Kendra to take a step back. Her back bumped into something that made a clinking sound.
“Whoops, easy there,” came Willa’s sweet voice. “Plates coming through.”
Kendra thought William was going to grab her and shake her. A desperate quality hung about his eyes and she could see the strain of the last months on his face. The circles under his eyes stood out and his skin seemed paler, translucent. He wasn’t eating enough, sleeping enough. But the anger simmered in him, right on the surface and she could feel his years wash over her and lift the hairs on her arms. He was older, stronger, and very angry.
“Rynquist,” a voice called out from the bar.
William stilled, though his eyes narrowed further. Risking a glance up, Kendra found Fletcher himself standing at the bar with a towel wadded up in his hands.
“None of that in here, mate. Take it outside and for your own sake, outside of Hadrian’s jurisdiction.”
William didn’t move away from her, showed no indication that he’d heard Fletcher. “Where is she?” he asked so quietly she almost couldn’t hear him.
“I don’t know.”
“If I find out you have anything to do with her being missing, anything at all, you won’t see another new year.” He turned and strode out of Fletcher’s, disappearing around the corner. As soon as his attention was off her, the air flowed in around Kendra again. Noise returned to normal levels.
She shuddered and forced her legs to carry her out of the bar. She’d been around plenty of older vampires—her sire was at least a few hundred years older than William Rynquist—but she’d never had one of them level all of their years at her as a weapon. It was like being forced to obey and submit to her elders. God forbid she ever meet Hadrian Catane face to face, she’d probably be leveled.
Kendra didn’t wait long after leaving Fletcher’s to shimmer out of Genocide. She didn’t want to give William the opportunity to come back around for her. She had to get back to her assignment anyway.
As she watched her targets that night, she was forced to wonder yet again where Rene Kaplan was, and if her actions had put her there. She liked Rene . . . but she trusted her sire. So she would do what her master told her, and keep her observations to herself.
Chapter 25
The silence was too much, too stark, too deep and unending. She couldn’t breathe. Shouldn’t breathe. He would hear. He would find her. Silence wrapped its smooth, soft fingers around her throat and squeezed, poured into her ears, emptied her mouth and lungs, made her eyes swim. Silence was everywhere. Everywhere air should be. Too big to hide under the bed anymore, she was stuffed in a closet, hoping, praying, begging that he wouldn’t find her. Just this one day of freedom. She would lay there all day, under winter coats and boots, behind the rifles, in a hole smelling of mud, leather, and gunpowder, lay there all day and not make a sound, not breathe too deeply, if he just wouldn’t find her.
The scent of mint seeped under the door, cut through the woodsy scents in the closet and made her stomach heave. Her throat tightened, gag reflex triggered. Her whole body was going into revolt. He couldn’t touch her. She couldn’t let him. She couldn’t bear it again.
Don’t breathe, don’t make a sound, don’t let him find you.
The door wrenched open and light spilled into dark silence.
“Sarah,” he chided, “What is it? Why are you hiding? Come out and play with me.”
She choked on the end of the silence, on the terror it brought. No, please God, no. Not again.
He reached in, hand curling about her arm and wrenching her free of the closet. “I’m not in the mood for hide and seek, Sarah. Get out here.” The mint washed over her face as he spoke. She couldn’t help it; her throat, previously closed so tight she could hardly breathe, opened on a whimper. Whimper turned to squeal, to scream. She fought. Fought and clawed and cried and screamed. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
∞∞∞
The hours before nightfall were the worst. The werewolves went to sleep in the early afternoon during the heat of the day. So too did the wildlife in the nearby forest. As the sun's rays grew long, reaching their clawed fists toward her corner of the cell, the encampment was swallowed in a deep, impenetrable silence. Times like this, if she weren’t a prisoner and was home, Rene would put in her earbuds and go to sleep. The music was a distraction, a defense against the silence. There was no such defense in her cell.
The quiet pressed in around her, mocking her, reminding her how many times she’d smugly donned ear phones and blocked it out, thinking she’d finally put it away for good, defeated the silence. All along, it had just been waiting for her. Waiting for the time when she would be defenseless so it could once more invade her senses and take her back. All the way back to her human life.
Voices whispered off the walls, not there, but there. In her mind, but more real than real. Haunting her. Calling to her. Mocking. No escape. A hundred years had passed since her last panic attack, but the mind was a funny, delicate thing. She heard a name from the past bouncing off the walls, smelled the sickly sweet spice of peppermint. Before long, Rene was shuddering against the wall, trying desperately to calm her mind and body, convince them, rationalize, she was okay. He wasn’t here. The silence couldn’t deliver her up to him.
No use. She curled up in the corner, turned in on herself, and prayed for sound. Any sound. Except she couldn’t breathe, because if she did, he would find her.
∞∞∞
Will sat stiffly upon the chair he’d been all but threatened into. Scratch that, he’d been threatened too, if that raised eyebrow from Estrada meant anything. And it always meant something.
To her right stood the light angelic, Connor, in what used to be Damon Reine’s place. The contrast was so startling, Will had to work not to do a double take. Damon Reine was all darkness. He ate up the light in a room and gave nothing back. The light angelic’s presence by contrast cast a crisp glow through the room and seemed to raise the temperature a few degrees.
It made his leader look even more stunning and otherworldly than usual.
“William,” Angela said. She was the only one who called him exclusively by his full name. It made him feel like a child at Sunday school who was always in trouble with the pastor. “It’s time you accept the facts.”
The facts. Inwardly he scoffed. The facts were that no one knew what happened to Rene, why she was taken (other than the werewolves’ claim that she’d killed one of their own without cause—which might be true, but couldn’t be proven), or if she was still alive. But as time passed and there was no sign of her, the others began to accept that she was gone for good. Just another in a long line of werewolf casualties. Another brick in the wall of hatred that grew ever taller between their two species.
“I’ve decided to assign you elsewhere. I don’t think being in Abandon is good for you at this time.”
Looking down at his lap, Will closed his eyes and started to count to ten. He couldn’t snap at Angela Estrada. She’d probably bury a stake in his chest faster than he could be
g forgiveness. Abandon was being rebuilt as they spoke. Not that he’d been much help. Will had been scouring the woods in every direction nightly, looking for any sign of her. He’d found the crushed remnants of her cell phone a few weeks before and had taken off in that direction for hours. He found nothing. He went that way for the next week, expanding his search, fanning out in every direction.
Still nothing.
It was as if she never existed. And to the occupants of the immortal world, it would soon seem that way. A mere two hundred and fifty years wasn’t enough to leave a mark on their society.
Only Will and Serena would really remember her. Serena, busy with the rebuild of her clan and town, managing a leader younger than she was who still hadn’t appointed a Second. She was too busy to look for Rene, but her eyes followed Will’s movements. Waited for word. Grew dimmer every night he had nothing to tell her.
“You need a break from Abandon, and a break from Discord.” Angela continued.
“So where do you propose to send me? Genocide?” At least there he’d be able to put out feelers in the darker circles of society. With the beings who might know werewolves, though they’d be hesitant to admit to it.
“Malevolence, actually.” Angela picked up a letter from her desk and held it out to him. “Jarrod has expressed interest in having a Risqueen emissary, and I think you’d be a good fit.”
“Malevolence,” Will repeated, raising horrified eyes. “You want to send me to Ireland?”
Estrada waved the envelope in front of him until he took it. Will didn’t bother to open it, he just stared down at the crisp cream paper.
“William, it’s time.”
His fingers curled around the envelope, crinkling the straight lines of it. He looked up, glancing over at the angelic in the corner of the room. Even dressed in a long sleeve plaid button down and light blue jeans, the creature was far from looking normal. Enormous white wings rose behind his back like a frame to his person. Eyes so light they seemed to glow watched Will without expression. After a moment, he seemed to register Will’s regard and cracked a very small smile.
Estrada noticed their interaction and raised a brow at her heavenly companion. “Is there something else you think he ought to be doing?”
The angelic’s smile broadened slightly as his gaze flicked to Estrada then back to Will. “He knows what he needs to do.”
“Follow my orders. Right, Connor?” Estrada glared at him.
Conspicuously silent, the angelic didn’t look at her again.
The problem was, Will didn’t know what to do. He’d done everything he could think of. But going to Malevolence . . . that was giving up. He absolutely couldn’t give up. “May I think about it?”
“This isn’t a suggestion or request, William. You’ll report to Jarrod and Ember the night after tomorrow.”
“Estrada—”
She stood up from her desk, leveraging her entire five-foot-four inch frame over the desk to glare at him eye to eye. “William Rynquist Mathew Risqueen. Take your orders and go. I have nothing further to discuss with you.”
Will stood up, clenching the envelope in one hand as he pushed his chair back toward her desk with the other. Sparing one last look at the angelic, he bowed his head to Estrada and walked out of the office. As the door closed behind him, he allowed himself a small growl of frustration.
He knew what to do, did he? Well the joke was on the angelic, because Will had absolutely no idea what to do.
∞∞∞
Wind and branches tore at Kendra’s clothes as Fin darted from Genocide into the surrounding forest fast as his legs would carry him. She held tightly to the scruff of his neck, momentarily afraid of falling from his back, before she remembered she was immortal now, and not nearly as breakable.
“Fin,” she shouted at him. “Stop!” Honestly, why did she feel like that was all she said to him? He didn’t slow. Whether that was because he couldn’t hear her over the wind or he just ignored her, Kendra didn’t know. She tried pulling on his fur, but he only growled and sped up. After a minute, she realized what direction he was heading and cursed. He couldn’t take her to the werewolves’ encampment. If she was seen there again, her sire would be very angry, and her master worse.
She closed her eyes tightly and said a silent prayer to the universe. Then she let go. The werewolf shot out from underneath her as the wind resistance grabbed her and hurled her to the ground. Kendra rolled a few feet before her body hit a log and stopped. She bit her lip, moaning as she rolled to her back and looked up at the canopy of trees. A rock dug into her back and there was a stinging in her arm. Looking down, she found a stick about half an inch in diameter sticking out of her bicep. With a grimace, Kendra reached down and grasped the stick, clenching her teeth as she tugged it out of her arm and tossed it a few yards away.
Thick, dark blood oozed from the wound for a moment, then slowed as the muscles and skin started to reknit.
Footsteps in the undergrowth made her glance up. Adrenaline started to pump faster in her veins. The dark wolf trotted back up to her. His worried brown human eyes looked her over.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Fin?” she shouted at him, rising to her knees so that her head was level with his.
He shook his head and whined, stepping closer.
“Ugh!” Kendra picked up a handful of leaves and dirt from the forest floor and hurled it at his face. “You’re such an idiot.”
With a growl, he stepped back and the next second he was human. “I just saved your life! Again.”
“Oh my—” She stood too, throwing up her hands. “How many times do I have to tell you? I can look out for myself!”
“That vampire was going to—”
“Errin Kaye wouldn’t hurt a fly. Instead of saving me, you’ve now exposed yourself, and me. My master is going to lose it.”
“Kaye wouldn’t tell him, would he?” Fin asked.
“Kaye is not the one I’m worried about. Do you realize how many vampires probably just saw you running through Genocide? You do realize that my master has spies everywhere, don’t you? If one of them saw you, saw me with you . . .” Kendra shuddered. This was bad. Very, very, bad. She started dusting off her clothes as she turned back toward Genocide.
“Hey,” Fin caught hold of her arm. “Wait, you can come back with me. If it’s really as bad as you say, I can protect you.”
Kendra laughed without humor, shoving his hand off her arm, then shoving him again in the chest for good measure. “You’re a fool, Serafin. A fool and a child. Do you think he can’t find me anywhere? Do you think you would stand a chance against him?”
His jaw clenched with anger even as those deep brown eyes filled with hurt. He was just a kid, a puppy, and she’d kicked him.
Kendra shook her head at him again. She wouldn’t apologize. He needed to hear some hard truths before he got himself killed. “I’ll go back and face my punishment. You’d better go back to your pack and find an alibi. I can only lie for you so many times.”
Chapter 26
She was going to die.
Only two voices protested the town’s nomination.
The vicar told anyone who would listen; it wasn’t right. It wasn’t good. This wasn’t what good Christians did.
They ignored him, same as they did every Monday through Saturday.
Ira was the other voice lifted in her defense. He started a brawl when they came to collect her. The young women of the village sighed and pressed hands to their bosoms. Look how he cared for her, they whispered, what a fine thing. What a good man.
Sarah didn’t fight the butcher or blacksmith when their firm grips took her by each arm. She walked placidly beside them. She only looked back once.
Saying goodbye.
Saying a prayer of thanks. God had finally heard her. He had finally said, “Yes.”
That’s what the vicar didn’t understand.
This was right. This was good.
She would never
see Ira’s face again. Hear his voice. Smell the mint leaves he liked to chew.
Death would free her.
∞∞∞
Rene’s finger dragged through the dirt, creating whirls and dips, angles and pivots, as she leaned lazily back against the hard rock wall. Above, the sound of the prison door opening and footfalls on the steps. She kept her eyes on the dirt, on the design she etched out there.
The now familiar scent of werewolf intensified. She knew without looking up that one of them was Silas. Using the heel of her hand, Rene smoothed over part of her drawing and altered it slightly. Even as he stopped in front of her cell, she didn’t look at him, working diligently on her task. Much better, that really captured his personality.
“Dinner time already?” she called sweetly, even though she didn’t smell any humans with him. Despite the fact that she was starving, Rene was glad. It took too much out of her to be gentle these days, and the emotional strain of the humans he brought her . . . she’d never had any idea of herself as particularly merciful or moraled, but her time with the werewolves had taught Rene that even she had her limits.
He didn’t respond. Not that she’d expected him to. She didn’t recall Silas saying one word to her the entire time she had been incarcerated. Giving the dirt one last whirl of her finger she said, “There! Pretty good, if I do say so myself. What do you think, Silas?” Finally she looked up to see him staring in at her. The other werewolf, also in human form, stood back a ways behind him, obscured in the shadow. Silas’ gaze flicked down to the dirt, the drawing of a somewhat Rene-looking figure (the boots had turned out quite well) attacking and draining the blood from a very Silas-looking wolf. She beamed up at him like a five-year-old showing off her coloring.
Weaken the Knees (The Immortal World Book 6) Page 22
