by J. K. Beck
“You into suck or puncture?” she asked. “Oh, and I guess John-O told you my rates, right? And I don’t do more than two pints. Makes me too damn woozy, you know?”
Considering he doubted she had two pints of blood in her entire tiny body, he certainly did imagine.
“I make my living selling this,” she said, gesturing to her body. “Pretty much any way you want it. I don’t do drugs, and if you want a fuck, you gotta put some jammies on your hammie. But that’s about as safe as I get, you know? I mean, hell, if I wanted to play it safe, I coulda got a job waiting tables. Let some wanker grab your tits, and he’ll double the tip, too.”
He’d been lost then, the daemon tormenting him, gathering strength, and though he had no memory of the actual act, he was certain that he’d been the one who’d killed her.
He’d killed Alexis’s sister.
Finding Alexis wasn’t a gift—it was a goddamn punishment. Bringing him so close to a woman who made his heart swell for the first time in centuries, only to find out that the vampire she was hunting—the one she’d rearranged her entire life to find and to kill—was him.
“Serge?” Alexis sat up, alarmed. He was just standing there, his back to her, his body frozen. “Serge, are you okay?”
After a moment, he turned and looked at her with haunted eyes.
“What is it?” She got out of bed and went to him. “Is it your daemon? The beast?”
He laughed, hard and bitter. “The daemon? Yeah, you could say that.”
She didn’t understand what was going on, and she cast about her room, trying to figure out what had happened as cold fingers of fear clutched at her. Everything had been fine until he’d gotten out of bed and then asked about Tori’s picture—
Tori.
Her stomach twisted as trepidation rose. Surely not …
But it made sense. Oh, dear God, it all made sense. She’d gone after Tori’s killer in that alley and Serge had been there, too, hidden above her.
The world seemed to turn to red and then gray. Her knees gave out and she started to fall. He was there, then, moving to her side in a flash, holding her up.
“No!” She jerked free, falling, then half crawled and half ran to the bedside table. She ripped open the drawer and snatched the gun she kept there—the one loaded with wooden bullets. “Goddamn you! You killed her! Oh, my God, please, please, tell me you didn’t kill her. Tell me you didn’t kill Tori!”
She was crying, but even through her tear-blurred vision she could see his face, and the pain on it was clear. He didn’t need to speak. She knew the answer.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’m so damn sorry.”
She held the gun out, and it trembled in her hand. But she couldn’t fire. Couldn’t do anything but collapse to her knees and weep.
“You shouldn’t have to bear this,” he said. His voice was raw, gravelly with pain, but still firm and deep. “I wasn’t here, Alexis. We never met. You won’t remember me or the pain. I know you can’t forgive me, but at least I can give you this.”
Her mind. He was trying to mess with her mind.
“No.” The word wrenched out of her, and she realized she’d raised the gun again. “Don’t you take this from me. Don’t you try to make me forget.”
She saw the shock register on his face and she held tight to the gun. This was the vampire she’d been hunting. The one she’d sworn to kill. A murderer. A monster.
Serge.
Again, she dropped the gun. “Get out,” she whispered.
“Do it,” he said. “Do it now. Fire the damn thing. Dammit, Alexis, you know what I did.”
She couldn’t. Not him. Not Serge.
She tossed the gun aside. “I can’t. Not you. Not ever.”
“Alexis …” His voice was heavy with pain.
“It wasn’t you. Something inside you, yes, but you’ve fought it. You’re not a monster.”
“The hell I’m not.”
“You think I don’t know evil? I’ve looked it in the eyes. I grew up with it.” She thought of her parents. So cold to her. So vile to Tori. “That isn’t you. You fight it. You don’t embrace it.” She drew in a breath, her lungs feeling like cubes of ice. “No, Serge, you’re not a monster. But I don’t think I can look at you, either. I don’t think I can—” She swallowed. “I can’t be with you. Please. Please go.”
“I have a hundred regrets, Alexis. But all of them pale in comparison with this.”
She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear to see her own regret reflected in those eyes she’d come to love. Instead, she crawled into bed, buried her face in the pillow, and stayed there long after she’d heard his departing footsteps and knew that she was once again alone.
“Turn here,” Jonathan said from his seat beside Derrick. They’d forgone traveling as mist so that they could communicate, and now they were in Derrick’s Jaguar—he’d acquired a taste for fine cars once he’d learned to operate the things—and were heading to the woman’s house. Their little female problem. The bitch that Derrick intended to kill.
Jonathan had done well. He’d returned from Bella’s with a name—Alexis Martin—and an address.
“That’s it,” Jonathan said. “The third one on the left.”
It was a stately home. Two stories, manicured lawn, pleasing architecture. Who would have thought that the bitch vampire hunter would live right here in the heart of suburbia?
He smiled, thinking of the gossip her brutal death would bring to this quiet street. Who said Derrick never did anything for humans? He was about to provide them with a grand spectacle.
Another car approached from the opposite side, then pulled into the drive and parked.
“Dammit.”
“Should we go in anyway?” Jonathan asked. “Just two guys,” he added as two men in suits stepped out. “How much trouble can they be?”
“If they’re aligned with our girl, possibly too much. Don’t discount the situation. She’s killed enough members of the League to be taken as a serious threat. If her visitors know how to wield a stake, we’d be foolish to go in now.”
“So we wait?”
“We wait.”
Alexis moved through the house numb. Serge. All this time, the vampire she’d been hunting was the man she loved.
And God help her, she did love him. She wanted to hate him—she really did. Wanted to beat on him and batter him with all the horrible, hateful emotions she’d built up inside her. He’d killed her sister, after all.
Except he really hadn’t. He’d been a different person back then; the Serge that she’d come to know had been buried deep within a tortured soul. He was a man who’d paid a dozen times over for the crimes he’d committed. A man who’d never stopped trying to become better, not even after thousands of years. It was awe-inspiring, and she had to wonder if she would have had that kind of strength, or if she would have simply let madness take her, let herself slide into the black, sloughing off torment and living only to exist. To kill.
She shivered, because that wasn’t Serge. He may have fallen into darkness, but he’d managed to climb out of it.
No, she thought. Serge hadn’t survived the encounter with Tori any more than Tori had. The Serge who’d killed her sister didn’t exist anymore. And the Serge who existed now was the man she loved.
Love, however, wasn’t always enough, and she’d spoken the truth when she told Serge that she wasn’t sure she could look at him again. Would she see Tori every time she looked into his eyes? Could she stand being that close to a reminder of the family she’d lost?
She hugged herself, pulling the sleeves of the ratty, comfortable sweatshirt she’d tugged on tight around her. It was late, well after two in the morning now, but she still eyed the phone. Leena wouldn’t mind if she called so late, but she hated to wake her friend. Especially since Leena seemed so touchy and out of sorts lately.
Alexis frowned, undecided, then jumped when her doorbell rang.
Serge?
No. She didn’t want it to be Serge. She needed distance. Time to think. Time to heal.
Maybe it was Leena. Maybe she’d caught a vibe and had come over to comfort Alexis.
“Who is it?” she called as she approached the door. Then she peered through the peephole right as her old boss, Tony Gutierrez, looked straight into it.
Surprised, she opened the door. “Tony, I—”
“Alexis Martin, you’re under arrest for impersonating a federal officer.” He exhaled loudly. “Shit, Martin, I flew in today so that I could do this instead of some agent you’ve never met. You gonna invite me in, or do I have to plow through the bullshit on your front porch?”
In shock, she stepped aside, ushering him in, along with the unknown agent who accompanied him. She felt nothing, she realized. Was she still numb from Serge’s revelation, or from this horrible new reality? She’d known the possibility of getting caught existed, of course. But she’d never really believed it would happen.
“How?” she managed to croak out the word.
“You showed up at Edgar Garvey’s house flashing that fake badge. Dammit, Martin, what the fuck have you been up to—no, shut up and let me Mirandize you.”
He rambled off the familiar words, then asked her if she understood. She heard her voice saying that she did and that she wanted a lawyer. But the words were hollow. She didn’t really want anything except Serge’s arms around her telling her that somehow, someway, it would all turn out all right.
From the roof of the neighboring house, Serge watched and listened. Arrest. Counterfeit badge.
Goddammit, this wasn’t good. And once again it was his fault. Edgar had caught Derrick’s attention when he went out flashing a police sketch of Serge, after all. Somehow, everything he did circled back to stab Alexis through the heart.
No more.
He couldn’t give Alexis her sister back, but he could negotiate her freedom.
The price would be steep, of course. But for Alexis, Serge would do what he had to do, even if it meant selling his soul.
Serge stood outside Luke’s house, the surf pounding behind him, the windows brightly lit in front of him. He breathed in the salty air and told himself he was a fool for hesitating. This was Luke, after all. A man who was closer to him than any brother could be.
And yet that was part of what fueled his hesitancy. Because deep in his gut, Serge knew that he should have come to his friend before. Should have told him what was happening, listened to his advice, and taken whatever help he could offer.
He hadn’t been able to see that path, though. Not then, when all he could see was the beast within him. Alexis had changed that—she’d shifted the lens through which he looked at himself—and for that, he owed her the world. More than that, he loved her.
Alexis.
She wouldn’t be scared—she was too strong for that. But she would be frustrated. He stood still, reaching out, seeking her through the blood connection. It was starting to fade, but he could sense her just enough to revel in the connection and to confirm that his suspicions were right. Not fear—irritation. At the system, at herself, and worry that she’d screwed up and that her mission to take out the rogues had been permanently compromised.
Not if I have anything to say about it.
Determined, he strode to the back door. It opened just as he was about to knock, and he found himself face-to-face with Luke, who looked at him with flat, emotionless eyes.
“You are a goddamn fool.”
Serge grinned. “Good to see you, too, brother.”
“Dammit,” Luke muttered, then pulled Serge into an embrace. Fast and quick, but the emotion was real, and when he pushed away, Luke kept his hands on Serge’s shoulders, his eyes on him. “For months, I was afraid you were dead.”
“There were days when I wished I was.”
“You spoke to my wife. You entrusted me with CeeCee. And yet this is the first time I’ve laid eyes on you in over a year.”
“You know why.”
“I have my suspicions,” Luke confirmed.
“I’ll tell you everything, but there’s something I need first.”
“Tell me one thing. Have you harmed any of the humans?”
Serge almost sighed in relief. He could handle anything, he thought, except for Luke to play the fool. To pretend he wasn’t suspicious of his friend, when he knew damn well what Sergius had once been. “I have not.”
Luke nodded slowly. “All right. Tell me what you need.”
“There’s a woman,” Serge said, though words were inadequate to describe Alexis. “She needs help.”
“I see.”
“See what exactly?”
“In your eyes. I see the way I feel when I look at Sara. Or am I wrong?”
“No,” Serge admitted without hesitation. “You’re not wrong. You told me once that Sara eases your daemon. Alexis does the same for me.”
“And is that the only attraction?”
He couldn’t help it; Serge laughed. “No. Most definitely not.”
Luke’s grin matched his. “Glad to hear it.” He paused only slightly. “It’s complicated, though. With a human.”
Serge thought of Tori. Of the chasm that had opened between him and Alexis. “More complicated than you know.”
“It usually is.” Luke looked at him, his gaze missing nothing. “So tell me how I can help Alexis.”
Serge did, explaining how she’d been arrested. And then—a sign of faith in his friend—he told him the rest. “She’s the one who’s been killing the rogues. Well, the rogues who’ve been staked, anyway.”
“A vampire hunter? You’re right. It is complicated.”
“She hunts rogues because one killed her sister. The girl was found in New York,” Serge continued, forcing the words out. “Near an abandoned subway station that had been expertly converted by some sort of mechanically inclined squatter.” He’d worked his ass off to make that old station a home. It had taken him a full week just to do the floors.
Luke gaped at him, obviously having grasped the bigger issue. “Does she understand our nature? Does she know how the daemon once consumed you? How you fought? How much you’ve won?”
“I’ve told her, yes. Does she understand? She says she does, but also that she can’t be around me. There’s too much pain. I can’t blame her, and I also can’t stop loving her, and I certainly can’t stop protecting her. I want you to get her out, but be warned—hunting rogues has become a mission with her. She won’t stop simply because it’s a vampire who frees her.”
“The PEC has no jurisdiction over humans who kill rogue vampires. You can rest assured that she won’t end up in a PEC cell.”
“Good.”
He looked hard at Serge. “You say she’s responsible for the vampires that have been staked. Tell me about the ones that have been desiccated.”
Serge hesitated. “What is it you think you know?”
“I think I know quite a bit. That you’re behind those deaths. That you’re hunting rogues.”
“You always were too perceptive by half.”
“What I want to know is why.”
“I have to feed, Luke, and I will not feed off the innocent.”
“Feed,” Luke repeated. “And yet you don’t take the blood. Orion says it remains intact, albeit powdered.”
“I take their life force.”
“I saw you do that once before. During the curse.”
“I’m happy to say I have very little memory of what I did during that time.”
“So explain to me. How is this happening? I thought the curse was lifted.”
“It was,” Serge began, then told Luke what he’d told Alexis the night before.
“I wish you’d come to me before.”
“What could you have done?”
Luke’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Done? I don’t know. If nothing else I would have helped you carry the burden.”
“I should have,” Serge agreed. “But now I come to you with
a new problem, and I’m not asking for something intangible like support. I need to know: Will you help her?”
“It’s not the PEC that’s arrested her, Serge. Last I checked, I wasn’t employed by the FBI.”
“You’re the Alliance chairman, Luke, don’t play naïve with me. Get on the phone. Call the FBI director. Hell, call the president. They know the truth. You can have her pardoned. You can have her transferred to Alliance jurisdiction. You can get her out of jail.”
“You’re right, of course,” Luke said. “And I might be persuaded to do just that.”
“You’d demand a price from a friend?”
“If it’s in that friend’s best interest, absolutely. Especially if it benefits me as well.”
“You really have become a politician.”
“The mantle’s uncomfortable, but I’m getting used to the burden.” He stepped off the deck and into the sand.
“Let’s walk.”
They walked in silence until Serge couldn’t take it anymore. “What do you want me to do?”
“For one thing, I want to pardon you.”
“Don’t.”
Luke eyed him warily. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“It would be a politically foolish move.”
“Apparently I’m not the keen politician you think I am, because it seems perfectly reasonable to me.”
“Luke …”
“Hear me out. I’m not making a grand gesture. I want something in return.”
“What?”
“You,” Luke said.
Serge stopped, oblivious to the surf rolling in around his ankles. “What?”
“I want you working for PEC.”
Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. “Say again?”
“It makes perfect sense. You’re in a unique position to work any undercover job we need.”
Slowly, Serge took his head. “To do that, I’d have to kill.”
“That’s what death row is for,” Luke said reasonably. “Let those creatures pay the price for their crimes by fueling our best warrior. It’s the perfect solution. Say we need to get an agent to go undercover, but all of our operatives are known. Say we need a werewolf or a jinn. You become our executioner. Take the life from a death row inmate, become that creature, and slide into the undercover position.”
