by J. C RIMELL
The sudden emotion in Cade's voice made Fleet's chest swell. So many times he wanted to tell him, explain he'd found him and thought he'd done the right thing. It hadn't been his own decision, but that of his Alpha, now the leader of the Society. Cade's mother had been a maternal, and his father a powerful Alpha who'd taught youngsters self-defense, how to track, and how to accept their wolves when the time came. Following order's, Fleet had left the boy safe and secure with the maternal, Alisha. It would only be later that the truth would be revealed and a weighty favor asked of him.
“Fleet?” Cade didn't bother formally addressing his Alpha this time, he was beyond pissed off to care.
Shadowed eyes met cold, slate gray. “I'm sorry kid, it wasn't my call back then.”
Cade crossed his arms defensively, his biceps bulging across his broad chest.
Whatever. Like the revelation could change all that now, anyway.
“Where are you going with this?” Cade's voice cut through Fleet's clouded conscience.
He snapped back to attention. “The pack needs to keep their heads, and that includes you. You're our eyes and ears on this, Cade. We need to find these killers, and I don't want you to fuck it up over some skirt.”
Cade's nostrils flared at the derogatory comment. “It's not… she's not like that.” He bit his tongue.
Shit. He muttered a low curse. Fine, he wouldn't fuck things up. He'd find the bastards that had killed his pack members and had dared to take Kit. But as long as he did his job, he was going to see Kit McCoy, whether his Alpha, his pack, or the Society liked it―or not.
Chapter Thirteen
Seth was hungry. His body was weak and deteriorating rapidly. He only had a few more hours before his host was no longer viable. He had found his host selling cocaine in a club. Fortunately, the male only sold it and hadn't taken it habitually himself. The host had served him well. A strong, healthy human male that had sustained him for three whole months without any blips.
Seth told his brothers to choose whom they wanted from the human dross in the basement. He needed air while they began the transitions. He could still taste the woman's blood in his mouth and her scent lingered in his nose like a bitter-sweet torment.
Not his brothers by birth, but by blood and oath. The circle of seven was tied to one another, swearing to protect each other centuries ago as young men. Walkers were a population that had severely diminished to the point of near extinction, the reason they had become the Brotherhood in the first place.
Though Seth led them, they all pulled their weight evenly in the group. Neither liked what had happened to them. They had little choice but to obey the bastard who's skill of tracking an individual's signature meant they could never run or hide. At least not until they rid the world of the parasite that called himself Leon, Vampire King.
It was easy to identify his brothers. Each walker had eyes identical to his own: ice blue with odd circles of black surrounding the tiny white pupil that never dilated. Once inside a new body, their eyes always stayed the same, changing the pigment of the hosts irises with their own. While the host's appearance remained unchanged, their physical strength was tenfold; one of the useful gifts they had gained from the vampire.
Their other ability as walkers was being able to hypnotize and morph into their host, a gift they were born with. These were just some of the reasons the King wanted to use them.
The brothers had been summoned and would need to travel further North where the King and his coven lived. A meeting he looked forward to about as much as a stake through his tortured heart.
He'd left the warehouse situated at the furthest end of Shadow Creek's run down harbor which was no longer used and was now sitting in the obscurity of a corner booth at Becker's Bar. He waited, nursing a cold bottle of beer while watching the toilet entrance situated to his left. It was quiet with just a few locals, most of which were guys playing pool in the back and a couple of drunks at the bar.
It wasn't long before the female of the two left her boyfriend and staggered her way to the lavatory. From her appearance, he guessed the woman wasn't from this region. She was a walking commercial for fake lips and breast implants that looked far too heavy for her petite frame, flicking long, bleached platinum hair over her shoulder as she went.
The sudden scent of cheap perfume cut through the stale air and stung his nostrils.
That will do.
He didn't want to take an innocent life, but he was desperate now. He felt his body tremble with the urgency. Perhaps it would be easier to trap another strong male in a body like hers, granting him another good few months before having to kill again. Convincing himself it was self-preservation, he slid out from the seat and made sure no one was behind him as he followed her into the ladies' lavatory.
His senses picked up that something was wrong with her. She had a terminal illness, and it eased his conscience further. He would gladly give her a painless ending and hope her body would last him long enough to snag a healthier male host.
At once, Seth began to chant in his ancient language, keeping his voice barely audible as he locked the door behind him. The woman came to a sudden halt, her body swayed and went limp. He braced her slender frame, catching her before she fell to the grubby tiles. Hazy chocolate eyes rolled back into her head and he continued to chant words passed down by the Ancient Ones. Seth tugged a few strands of golden hair free and tucked them into the small leather pouch that hung around his neck.
Then, sealing his mouth across her overly plump lips, his soul morphed into her body with a slow transition that was seamless, easy, he'd done it so many times before.
He'd been a strong, vigorous male. A walker whose abilities allowed him to become almost any living thing he'd wanted. Taking a small piece of an animal's pelt or fur, a strand of human hair, even scales from a snake, and his body could mutate into that same creature. He had been one of a few that still remained on earth. Now it was only him and his brothers. If there were any more, especially any females, he prayed to the Ancient Ones they would never be found.
He was found.
Meeting Valerie had been his undoing.
She had been the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Had he known she was a vampire he would have steered well clear. He'd heard stories over the centuries about the dead that fed upon human blood and roamed the earth in clans or covens, but by then it was too late. Lured by her opiate gaze, he stood little chance. His own hypnotic skill was useless against the bewitching vampire, and before he knew it, her fangs had sunk deep into his artery, lacing his blood with poison making him immobile until the change came.
Seth's body stiffened just remembering the agony, the burning volcano in his throat and lungs that ripped him from the inside out. He was locked in a small, stone room for days until she returned and took him to meet Leon, her King. He was one mean son-of-a-bitch. Intrigued by Seth's natural talents, he planned a new population of half-breeds. Half Vampire, Walker, Shifter, Human, whatever specialty he could get his evil hands on.
But there was a downside to his plan. The walker half-breeds he tried to create needed new bodies to stay alive. After capturing the walker, the venom from the vampire bite flooded the body with toxins, causing a side effect in the changing process. Having previously found a few supernatural beings before Seth, the vampires discovered after carrying out torturous tests, that the subject would be dysfunctional. Their supernatural DNA wasn't compatible and so strong it rejected the venom. Unable to change them, they were decapitated and tossed into the nearest river.
It wasn't until the Vampire King tested the walkers that they found their ability to morph into a new host enabled them to regain strength and health. But the host's body would only last a few months―if they were lucky. Humans were turned successfully. Their less complex DNA structure allowed for such a transition. Inheriting the unnaturally long life, speed, and strength that most vampires already had and needing blood to feed upon just as the vampires did.
Leon wanted more.
The Vampire King wanted the unique abilities that came with these other supernatural beings. Unintentionally and under the influence of the poison, Seth had led the King to his brothers, betraying his own kind. His brethren had forgiven this act, knowing the one they had chosen for their leader hadn't done so out of choice; his body and mind had not been his own. After the change, Seth and his brothers watched and listened with vigilance. Gained the vampires trust enough to be given free rein to go wherever they pleased. But in order to do so, there was a condition: to return every few weeks with a living human, each.
At first the brothers were reluctant. They were a peaceful breed of preternatural beings and killing innocent animals and humans were not in their nature. And even now with their poisoned hearts and their minds corrupted, they did not want to comply with Leon's request. But the brothers had soon discovered there were those among human society that didn't belong there. Murderer's, pedophiles, those who prayed on the weak. Human vermin that would not be missed.
This didn't lighten their consciences. Just to survive meant they had to take a life, and they each waited for as long as they could before having to do so. They continued to hang on to a thread of hope they would find a way to reverse the curse inflicted upon them―or kill the monster that called himself King.
It wouldn't be easy. There weren't many ways to murder a vampire, particularly one of Leon's caliber. He was over a millennium in age and had more power than any of them knew.
Snapping back to the present, Seth stared for a minute at his new reflection in the mirror, waiting for his vision to adjust. His pale blue eyes looked back at him as his mind absorbed the petite frame of his new host's body. He felt the brain tumor in an instant. The woman hadn't long to live, and it eased his compunction.
Dragging the hollow corpse across the floor, he lifted the body onto the toilet. Leaning it back onto the cistern, he was grateful he had superior strength or hauling even a used up corpse of that guy's size would have been a mammoth task. Then removing his pouch from the dead male's neck, he put it on and tucked it discreetly down the front of the baby pink blouse he was now sporting. After straightening the short black skirt and feeling the pinch of the black stilettos, he shut the door to the cubicle.
He quickly examined the narrow window and knew the petite build of his host's body would easily shimmy through the thing. The only problem might be the double D's he now stared down at. Using the hand-dryer on the wall below as leverage he hauled himself onto the ledge, and after some careful maneuvering he escaped into the night.
His throat burned.
He had to feed, and this body was a sure way he would get just what he needed to survive.
Chapter Fourteen
Shortly after 7:00 am, Cade gathered up his clothes from where he'd stashed them near the parking lot the night before. Switching on his cell phone he checked for missed messages. A call from Henderson requesting him to go over to Becker's Bar PDQ. Shoving his things into a rucksack, he ran across the street that had just come alive with early morning traffic.
Weaving through the stationary cars waiting at the lights, he was pleased to see his Harley untouched and in one piece. Shadow Creek wasn't auto theft city, but just like anywhere in the world, you left things you treasured at your own risk. There was always someone desperate or reckless and selfish enough to steal what didn't belong to them.
He straddled the seat and started the engine, the sound a pleasing song to his ears. Kicking up the stand he indicated to pull out onto the road. Every instinct inside of him desperately wanted to go in the opposite direction and see Kit. But he knew she was in good hands and he couldn't ignore the fact he had a job to do.
§
Kit felt dog tired as she sipped the Callebaut hot chocolate, her aunt had made her. It was Belgian and her mom sent it over regularly from the UK. It always reminded her of when she was little. Sunday mornings when her mom would make a big mug full of the rich drink, along with her French toast.
That was so long ago now, she thought quietly.
Sat beside Madeleine on the sofa, she tried to stay focused as the very handsome Chief Henderson and his sidekick, also a strikingly good looking man from the Criminal Investigation Department, asked her some questions.
“So just to clarify a couple of things, Kit, you'd never seen the man before?” Sidekick asked her. His voice a deep baritone, smooth and silky, reminding her of Barry White, her dad loved the soul-singer. Distracted by his voice and his soft brown, velvet eyes set into coffee-colored skin, she tried damn hard to remember what he'd said his name was.
“Um, no. Never,” she replied.
“And at the warehouse, how many people do you think were being held?”
Silver! Her mind offered at last. That was it―Detective Benjamin Silver. “I really can't say.” She quivered. “Maybe ten.” A chill licked up her spine as she remembered the red-haired woman. The smell of fear was still such a raw memory her nostrils flared. “I'm sorry, but I've told you everything. I wish I could tell you more.” The thought of those people lying there waiting for death made her feel guilty, useless. She'd escaped death for a second time and the realization was almost overwhelming, bringing Clara to the forefront of her mind with a fresh wave of pain.
Why had he let her go? Only God knew. Was it a moment of humanity? Of pity?
She shuddered and Jo pulled the crochet throw off the back of the armchair she was sitting in and draped it lovingly over Kit's shoulders.
“Thanks,” Kit whispered clutching it and drawing it tighter to her chest.
Detective Silver's cell buzzed. “Excuse me a moment.”
Kit's gaze followed him as he stood to his full height, guessing he was easily six and a half feet of solid muscle that moved with far more grace than a guy of his size should as he exited the room.
Jack Henderson's intelligent eyes studied the young woman with care. He knew both, Kit, and her aunt reasonably well. The Café was a regular stop off whenever officers were in the area. They made the best pecan pie and lemon cheesecake on the goddamn planet. He also knew she was telling the truth. She'd narrowly escaped, and it was a miracle she was still alive.
“Well, it seems to clarify why there's been such an increase in missing person reports over the last month.” Henderson dragged a hand through his mop of thick black curls, attracting the stare of all three females in the room. “So, I hear you've met some of the soldiers?” he asked, sliding his little black book in the inside pocket of his beige, corduroy jacket, while his observant, emerald gaze wandered over Kit's face. She was as pretty as an angel, and he could see the reason for Cade's obvious attraction to the girl.
The bad boy wants the good girl next door.
And he couldn't blame him, but he sure hoped like hell Cade wouldn't do anything stupid. The Society wasn't very forgiving if rules were broken.
Kit nodded, her mind flashing back to the fight between Cade and a guy called Gunner, Madeleine had later informed her.
“Boss.” DC Silver re-entered the room. “Looks like we're needed ASAP down at Becker's.”
Henderson got up, three sets of eyes glued to him as he straightened his jacket. He was as tall as his comrade and together they looked a formidable pair. It was quite something, but then they were male shifters and they sure as hell didn't come in small packages.
“Here's my card,” he said, handing it to Kit. “If you remember anything else, no matter how small or insignificant you think it may be, you can call me day or night on either of those numbers.”
“I will. Thanks.” Kit took the identity card and traced her thumb across the bold lettering before taking a moment to memorize the two numbers. A gift she'd had ever since she could remember, her mind was her very own telephone book.
Jo returned a minute later, having seen the officers out. “There's a squad car parked out front with two cops and Chief Henderson said it will be there all day. So you don't need to worry bout' a thing,” sh
e reassured her. Kit caught the unsettling look in Madeleine's eyes. Perhaps being part of a special operations unit meant she was privy to a lot of stuff, information kept well out of the public domain. After all, until last night Kit had no idea the soldiers were actually a special team working from a secret base in the area. How many residents in Shadow Creek knew anything about it?
“You look like you could use some sleep,” Madeleine hinted. She wasn't wrong as Kit staggered to a stand. “I suggest you take a long hot bath and get a good few hours shut-eye.” Gathering her things Madeleine got ready to leave. “I'll come by later this afternoon to check on you.”
“Thank you, but honestly, I'm fine.”
“I'll be the judge of that,” she said, giving the young woman a stern glare from cinnamon eyes that just seemed too soft to be threatening. “Get some rest, doctor's orders.”
Kit watched from the porch as the nice doctor climbed into the Black SUV before heading back inside. Then, before heading up the stairs to her room she went into the kitchen to see Jo.
“Please tell me you haven't called my mom and dad.” The last thing she wanted was to have them worry and ask that she return to the UK. Even after what had happened, she still didn't want to go back there, her life was here now.
“They have a right to know,” Jo said, breathing out a shaky sigh. Kit studied her mother's twin. They shared almost every physical resemblance, apart from the texture of their hair and a slight difference in height. Jo looked tired, Kit thought, as she examined the dark shadows beneath her hazel eyes where she'd obviously not slept. Her golden, brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail with loose tendrils framing her oval face making her look flustered.
Kit breathed a sigh of relief. “Look, I'm fine. I'm in one piece. What good will come from telling them?” She leaned achy muscles against the doorjamb, watching as Jo busied herself scrubbing the marble work surfaces with an aim to kill every possible living germ and Kit along with it. The smell of disinfectant was making her feel queasy, the sting settling in the back of her throat.
