Again, Julian prompted. Please.
After the loss of Eve, the souls had stopped pushing Aden to learn who they were. They’d been as scared about parting as Aden was. But now that the information was within reach, Julian’s fear had dissipated. He was all about the eagerness.
“Perhaps we should try again later.” Victoria scanned the yard.
“We’d get the same results.” Aden knocked again. “She’s home. I can…smell her.” He could even hear the rapid thump, thump of her heartbeat. And yeah, that was kind of freaking him out.
Junior, of course, liked the sound. Though it wasn’t a lullaby to him, as it would have been to any other newborn; it was a war drum. He heard, and he hungered, even though he’d been fed.
“If the woman is that determined to ignore us, we failed before we even arrived.” Victoria’s voice had dipped, becoming husky, like a pinup coming to sparkling life.
His intensified senses were picking up details he’d never before noticed. “All—”
No! Julian shouted. We’re not leaving.
“Not yet,” Aden said.
A relieved sigh echoed. Thank you.
“I just want to speak with you, Ms. Smart,” he called. “Please. You could save a life here.”
The next few minutes ticked by with no results.
“This isn’t working.” Victoria did her chew-on-the-lip thing. “I wish I could…but I can’t.” She blinked up at him. “You, however, can.”
“Can what?”
“Summon her. You can make her talk to you.”
That’s right. He could. He kept forgetting.
His head fell back, and he peered up at the sky. Dark velvet with pinpricks of starlight. Vast, never-ending. Like his ability. He could make anyone do anything he wanted. The same way doctor after doctor had forced their wills on him, only with pills. The same way foster parent after foster parent had expected absolute, total compliance for the “gift” of taking him in. Anything for a check, he supposed.
To do that to others…to keep doing it…over and over again, when he knew the awfulness of being on the opposite side of that stick.
It’s a good plan, Julian said.
“I know.” The more he did it, though, the easier it’d be and the more he’d fall back on it, until he relied on the ability for everything. “Just…let me think for a bit.”
Victoria understood. “You don’t like forcing people.”
“Yeah.” He pulled her to the porch swing, and they sat down, the wood swaying and creaking underneath them.
“I’ve never met anyone who resisted using The Voice before. It’s admirable.”
Frustration gave way to pleasure, and he wanted to cuddle her close. Of course, that led to another thought: he wanted to be with her again.
Next thing he knew, that’s all his mind could ponder. Sex. His first time, and he was so glad it had been with her. Someone who understood him, who knew what he’d gone through, what he was still going through. Some one who didn’t judge him and liked being with him.
“I will not talk to you about him,” a woman’s familiar voice suddenly said. “I can’t.”
Fabulous. This crap again.
And yet, there she was. From the corner of his eye, he watched Victoria’s mother twirl in front of him, her black robe dancing at her ankles. For a moment, he wondered if she were a vision courtesy of Tucker, if she had been an illusion all along. If Vlad had told Demon Boy what Edina looked liked and Tucker had taken things from there, just to drive Aden insane.
But, no. The first time the flashes came, Tucker had been with Mary Ann. Not even the demon could be in two places at once, causing problems. At the hospital, Aden had wondered if Edina appeared at times Victoria would have been—was—thinking of her. Now, he discarded that idea, too. She’d made no mention of the woman, and she would have.
What suddenly seemed most likely was his ingestion of Victoria’s blood. He’d drank from her—twice—and he still hadn’t mind-merged with her. What if this was the way their blood connection would manifest from now on?
No one else appeared in the vision, and he didn’t hear the response to Edina’s refusal to “talk about him,” but she said, “No. No! I love him, and that’s all you need to know. I’m running away with him, but I can’t take you with us, darling. Your father might let me go, but he would never let you go. He’s proven that, hasn’t he?”
She was going to leave her kid behind? Victoria behind?
“Aden?” Victoria said.
“Need a minute.”
“Oh. Okay.”
She probably assumed he was listening to the souls, and he didn’t correct her.
“I’ll write you every day, my darling,” Edina said. A ray of sunlight burst through the thick cloud cover and shone directly on her. Like the dust motes around her, she wavered. “I promise.”
Pause.
“Be my brave little Vicki, and tell your father I’m in my room if he asks where I am.”
Vicki. Victoria. Yeah. Aden’s stomach rolled in tune with the motes as his understanding of his girlfriend deepened. No wonder she’d used her Voice Voodoo so much. Chaos had always surrounded her. Telling humans what to do had been her way of taking charge, of finally eliciting the results she wanted.
Aden? What’s going on? Julian asked.
“Nothing.”
In a snap, the vision changed. This time, the rest of the world faded away, black walls closing in around him. No time to react. Above him was a mirrored ceiling, below him a shiny onyx floor.
He lost his connection to his own body, found himself looking through someone else’s eyes. Victoria’s eyes. He knew this sensation very well.
Just in front of him, a man Aden could only assume was Vlad the Impaler sat on a gold embossed throne. Wow, the guy was impressive. Before, all Aden had seen of him were charred remains. Now, the vampire king was a hulking, towering figure of strength, even sitting down.
He had a thick crop of black hair and eyes so blue they were like sapphires burning in a ceaseless fire. Fine lines branched from the corners of those eyes, and rather than age him, they painted an expression of determination and cruelty. His lips were a thin slash, stained crimson and twisted ruthlessly. A scar ran from the arch of one dark brow all the way to a stubborn chin.
Girls would consider him handsome, Aden supposed, in a psycho-killer kind of way. Vlad had wide shoulders, his torso bared and roped with muscle. There was a ring on each of his fingers, making him a man assured of his own masculinity. He wore fawn-colored breeches that molded to his legs and boots that tied all the way up to his knees.
“You dare to challenge me?” Though Vlad spoke in a language Aden had never heard before, he had no trouble understanding because Victoria understood. “Well, I accept.” He stood. Tall…taller…a giant of a man and solid muscle.
The vampire he spoke to was just as tall and just as muscled. “I did not doubt you would.”
“You may choose the weapon.”
Around them was a crowd of people, watching, tense, barely breathing. Except for one man. Sorin, Victoria’s brother. He stood just below the dais where the throne rested, and he was shaking his head in resignation.
Victoria was a few feet away from him. Her gaze skidded over a mirror, and Aden saw that she was a little girl, perhaps two years older than she’d been in the vision of the whipping. Her mother stood on her other side, tears streaking her cheeks, her features tight with fear.
There’d been no hint of Victoria’s emotions revealed in her reflection. She clutched her mother’s hand, however, her knuckles leaching of color. She might have looked calm, but she was a mess of nerves inside and too afraid to let go.
“I choose swords,” the man said.
“Excellent choice.” Vlad glided down the stairs to the floor. “When? Where?”
“Now. Here.”
A nod of satisfaction. “We are of one mind, then.”
“Only in this.”
Som
eone from the crowd threw a sword at Vlad and a sword at his opponent. Both caught the weapons with ease. A second later, the man lunged forward, throwing himself into the fight.
Vlad stood completely still. Until, just before the man reached him, he turned, a blur of motion, and slashed.
Blood and guts spilled all over the floor.
The man dropped to his knees, gasping, gurgling, his eyes wide. He clutched at his middle, not yet grasping the depths of his swift defeat. Without breaking a sweat or moving a step, Vlad struck a second time, and off went the man’s head.
A collective gasp sounded from the crowd.
“Anyone else?” Vlad asked, buffing his nails on the waist of his pants. “It would be my pleasure to fight any of you.”
Edina burst into sobs and rushed from the room, leaving her little girl behind. A little girl who was shaking as her father turned the force of his displeasure on her.
“Why did you not stop her? ’Tis her lover in pieces on the floor. A man you would have called Father, I am sure. A man you wanted to call Father.”
“No! I—I—”
“I will hear no excuses or false denials from you.” He waved a hand through the air. “Go. Take the head and place it on a pike. The task is yours, and you will complete it or find yourself resting beside him.”
Her trembling increased as she rushed to obey, wading through things no child should ever encounter.
Aden’s first thought had nothing to do with Vlad, fighting Vlad or having no hope of winning against a man like that. His mind concentrated solely on Victoria. Knowing she had endured this undid him.
He wanted to run to the girl she’d been, whisk her away, protect her from such horrors. The man who’d just been gutted was the man Edina had attempted to run away with, leaving her daughter behind. The daughter who then had to clean up her mother’s mess. Literally.
His poor Victoria. Once he would have placed good money on the fact that no one could have a childhood worse than his. Hers had been, though. In comparison, he’d been raised in heaven by doting angels.
The scene disappeared, there one minute, a cloud of vapor the next.
“Aden,” Victoria whispered, shaking him into the present. “Someone’s coming.”
He rapid-fire blinked into focus as the front door of the house creaked open, Tonya peeking out. He hadn’t summoned her, yet here she was. Checking to make sure he was gone most likely, but whatever. He’d take what he could get.
“What do you want?” she snapped when she spotted him. She didn’t step out on the porch, but kept the screen between them. “Why won’t you leave?”
Aden unfolded from the swing. “My friends visited you, asked you about your husband—”
“Yes, and I told the girl not to return.”
“And so she hasn’t. I’m here.”
“Sorry, but I have nothing to say to you, either.”
She made to close the door, and that’s when Aden caved. Sick of waiting, sick of questions without answers and no longer willing to view his new gift as a curse, he said, “Leave the door open,” putting all of his want into the words.
Victoria had loved her Voice Voodoo, but she’d given it up. For him. Aden wouldn’t make light of that anymore.
Tonya’s eyes immediately glazed over, and she left the door alone.
Victoria stood beside him and twined their fingers, offering comfort.
“Your brother-in-law died, and he left no family behind. Do you have any photographs of him? Any personal effects?”
Silence.
“Tell her to tell you,” Victoria instructed.
“Tell me what I wish to know,” he added, wanting it, wanting it so badly.
“I—” Though Tonya’s eyes were still glazed, she found the strength to deny him. “I can’t tell you.”
A frowning Victoria shook her head. “That’s impossible. You have to tell him. He commanded you to. I don’t know anything, but even I want to obey him.”
“I…I can’t.”
Slowly Aden disengaged from Victoria and approached Tonya, doing his best not to spook her. Tonya remained in place. Though he was younger than she was, he was taller, a lot taller, and he had to look down…down…to meet that still-glazed stare. That’s when he saw something besides a glassy sheen swimming in those gray depths. Something dark, like a shadow.
Julian saw it, too, and gasped in dismay. What is that?
“Don’t know.” Aden drew on every ounce of his need for answers. He let that need churn in his voice box, until his throat nearly steamed from the burn of it, before speaking again. “You will tell me what I want to know, Tonya Smart. Now.”
The shadows coagulated, then broke apart and scattered, and Tonya relaxed a little. “Yes. I do have photographs and personal effects.”
Answers, that easily. It was as powerful and addictive as he’d suspected. As powerful and addictive as a vampire’s bite. That wasn’t going to stop him. “Bring them to me. Give them to me.”
“Bring. Give. Yes.” She disappeared inside the house.
Half an hour ticked by, and Aden began to worry that he’d lost her, that she’d shaken out of his mental hold and taken off out the back door, never to return. But then, as suddenly as she’d left, she was back in the doorway, holding a box out to him.
It. Had. Worked.
He claimed the thing with a relieved, “Thank you.”
Julian was dancing through his head. I can’t believe this! There could be a picture of me in there.
Aden balanced the box with one hand, used the other to grab Victoria and headed back to the motel to study what was inside. Hopefully, Riley and Mary Ann were just as lucky.
Or not.
TWENTY-SIX
RILEY KICKED IN THE front door, wooden shards raining in every direction. No alarm sounded. That didn’t mean one hadn’t been tripped, but screw it. Last time he’d been in this neighborhood, playing it safe had almost killed him. Had killed his animal. So, no more playing it safe.
His hands balled into fists as he stomped into the house. He couldn’t think about the past right now. He’d rage and destroy everything in sight. “We’ve got five minutes.” After that, the authorities could arrive. “Let’s make the most of it.”
Mary Ann rushed in behind him. “So, just grab what I can?”
Joe and Paula Stone supposedly lived there. So, yeah, grabbing what they could was the plan. A plan they’d gone over several times already. He stalked down the hallway without bothering to reply. She knew the answer, she was just nervous. He wished he could comfort her, but just then, he was having trouble comforting himself.
There were only two doorways along this route. He entered the first. Master bedroom? Maybe. Small, sparse, with only a bed, a nightstand and a dresser. On the bed, the covers were in disarray, as if they’d been shoved away in a hurry. A cup on the nightstand was tipped to its side, the contents—water, from the looks of it—had dripped to the floor, where clothes were piled. The dresser’s drawers were partly open. The only window was covered by thick black paint.
Clearly no one had been here for a while. Probably since the morning he and Mary Ann had nearly had sex in the house across the street, and both their lives had changed forever.
If so, well, Joe and Paula Stone had run. For good. And if they’d run, that meant they’d known Riley and Mary Ann were coming. But how could they have known? And why run? What had they feared?
“Riley,” Mary Ann called.
He followed the sound of her voice and was soon standing beside her in the second bedroom. Toys littered the floor, a fact that momentarily rendered him speechless. “They have a kid?”
“Either that, or they have a home day care.”
“A day care that caters strictly to girls? No.” There was nothing masculine in the room. No blue, no race cars, no action figures. Just pink, stuffed animals and dolls.
“Do you think…”
That Aden has a sister? “Maybe.” Probably. And what a
way to find out. He thought back to the couple, to the truck, but didn’t recall seeing a car seat. That didn’t mean the girl hadn’t been with them. “Just…” What? He looked for a clock, couldn’t find one. How were they on time? “Go to the kitchen, go through all the drawers. Grab any kind of bill you find. Anything with a name.”
“Okay.” She didn’t run off, but stood there. “Riley, I—”
“I can’t talk about it. Just go,” he said and returned to the master bedroom before she could say anything else. Trying to force his mind to a Happy Place, he dug through the closet, every drawer in the nightstand, then searched under the mattress and bed. Nothing personal had been left behind.
Figured.
“Uh, Riley,” Mary Ann called, her voice cracking.
His back was to her, but he could sense her fear. He jackknifed to a stand and turned toward her, only to freeze, his breath icing over in his lungs.
“Mary Ann. Walk to me. Slowly.”
A strangling sound slipped from her. “Can’t.”
“You don’t issue orders, little boy. I do,” said the man standing behind her. The man pointing a gun at her head.
He was tall, blond and lean. He wore a flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up halfway on his arms to reveal several tattoos. Wards. Against what, Riley couldn’t tell. Yet. He needed a closer look. What he did know? Anger pulsed from the guy in dark, agitated waves. He’d shoot, and he wouldn’t care about the dead bodies he left behind.
Riley cursed himself for not teaching Mary Ann how to react in this type of situation. “You hurt her,” he said just as calmly, “and I’ll kill you.” That was not an empty boast.
Throughout his life, he’d done that and more. He’d never been one to strike without cause, but he’d never been one to sit back and take whatever was being served, either.
“That’ll be a little hard for you to do if you’re dead, now won’t it.” A statement when it should have been a question. “But don’t you worry. I’ll make it fast.”
The sad thing was, Riley had no argument. No real defense. Had he not lost his wolf, he would have heard the man enter the house. Failing that, he would have smelled him. Instead, he’d allowed his ex-girlfriend to be terrorized. He kinda deserved what he got.
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