But the path was clear. I had to discover who this Rowe was and stop him from making any more sacrifices. And the only way to do that was to locate the triad, or at the very least, what was left of it.
Six
My plan for the rest of the night was simple. I would return home, shower, and then hunt. I could even hunt first, and then return home to shower. I was flexible. But those plans were pitched out the window. The acrid smell of smoke tainted the air a couple blocks away, along with a rising wave of fear. This was worse than a random house fire in the early morning hours that claims the lives of the unwary. Something had stirred up the natives in an ugly way.
I ran the last blocks to the fire, to find a trio of bright red fire trucks positioned outside the Docks. Firefighters were pouring water on the flames, which were still jumping out the front door. The hoard of people standing beyond the trucks was covered in smoke and soot and blood. Women were weeping hysterically, while more than a few men were pacing, pulling at their hair in a sort of impotent rage. And others stood still, eyes staring blindly forward in numb shock, their minds refusing any further information.
This was more than just a fire cause by a carelessly dropped cigarette. I dipped into one scarred mind after another to find that several people had been murdered. Someone had come among this hardened, jaded group, cutting down people at random before setting fire to the place.
Turning my attention to the fire, I closed my eyes and quickly extinguished the flames. In a matter of a couple minutes the last tongues of fire were completely gone. It would have looked a little odd to the experienced firefighters, but no one would question their sudden good luck. I needed to get in there to find out what happened, and the fire was destroying evidence.
Pulling aside one stunned man, I convinced him to give me his shirt. Without his eyes ever drifting from the blackened building, he pulled the T-shirt over his head and handed it to me. I wiped off the naturi blood that still covered me and scanned the crowd for a familiar face. Off to one side stood Jonathan, surrounded by a small contingent of friends. His black tights were torn and his plaid skirt and white button-up blouse blackened with soot and splashed with blood. His blond wig was missing and his face was streaked with mascara-tinged tears. He would have made an attractive woman if he weren’t built like a linebacker.
With the man’s shirt waded up in my left hand, I walked over to Jonathan, who had been attending the Docks for years and knew all the regulars. His friends stepped aside at my approach, their lost gaze seeming to hold me for only a moment before drifting back to the building.
“Hey, Little John,” I said when he looked up at me. “What happened here?”
“Oh, MiMi,” he sighed, rubbing his left eye with the heel of his left hand. “There you are. They just started killing us.” His voice was surprisingly soft despite his large barrel chest, but it held a mountain of sorrow.
“Who? Who did this?”
“I—I don’t know,” he said with a shake of his head. “I had never seen them before. Two men came in. No, it was two teenagers with long brown hair and green eyes. They were…they were…” Jonathan paused and stared straight ahead, blinking rapidly for a moment as if trying to clear his vision, or maybe just his memory. “They were looking for someone. Nathan somebody, I think. We didn’t know this person, so they started—”
“It’s okay,” I said, taking his large hand in mine as his voice cracked. I could guess at what happened, but there was no way a pair of teenagers could cause this kind of damage and create this level of fear. Not even if they walked in with Uzis, and not once had I picked up the image of gunfire in anyone’s thoughts.
There was more to this tale. I didn’t think Jonathan was lying to me. His mind was just struggling to make sense of what he’d seen. Carefully, I slipped into his thoughts, reviewing his memories. Two slim, graceful figures waltzed in. Their longish blondish-brown hair fell around their faces, but I could see their almond-shaped green eyes and catch glimpses of high cheekbones. It was a safe bet that Jonathan’s mind had already blurred the sight of anything else that didn’t quite make sense to him. Naturi, possibly from the wind clan, from their graceful movements. However, their use of fire to consume the place made me wonder if one of them was from the light clan. If members from either of the two upper clans were out searching, this was serious.
“Nerian,” I whispered.
Jonathan’s hand jerked in my grasp and his gaze jumped back to my face. His brown eyes widened. “Yes, that’s it. Nerian. Do you know him?”
“He’s dead.”
Jonathan took a step away from me, pulling his hand from my grasp. “They’ll be pissed, Mira!”
“I’ll handle them.”
As I slipped away from Jonathan, I raised the enchantment back around me and wiped his memory of our conversation. Weaving through the crowd of onlookers, firefighters, medical workers, and police, I slipped unnoticed into the Docks. The walls and ceiling in the main bar were blackened by the fire, but the worst of it appeared to be toward the back.
Around me, bodies were strewn about, their limbs lying at strange angles. Some had died quickly with their necks broken. Others had been stabbed and left to bleed to death. More than a dozen were killed. It appeared that after the naturi failed to get the information they wanted, they set fire to the room that held the dance floor, and several had died in the chaos and ensuing stampede.
Walking back toward the dance floor, I paused at the table Danaus and I had sat at only an hour ago. It was blackened but unburned. Around the scar in the wood from the naturi dagger, several symbols were written in blood. More symbols from the naturi language. I was willing to bet they were tracking down Nerian through the blade.
By now they would know that he was dead. If Danaus was as good as he seemed, he would be able to take care of a couple of naturi. Besides, the naturi had been gone for a while now, and the night was wasting away. The hunter was on his own.
Turning away from the table, I slowly gazed around the room. Faces I had seen on a regular basis during the past few years were being covered with white sheets. For so many, I didn’t know their names or histories, but they had been a part of my domain, a part of my home. The naturi had stolen them from me.
Destruction, death, and fear; that was all the naturi had to offer both nightwalkers and humans. I knew vampires weren’t a great alternative, but at least we had learned to coexist. If the seal was broken and the door opened, the naturi would reduce the world to a blackened shell much like the Docks. From that, they would build their world, one exclusively for the naturi.
As I walked back toward the front door, the table burst into flames. No evidence could be left behind of their existence. When I returned home, I would burn the T-shirt I’d used to wipe off the naturi blood. Things were beginning to spiral out of control and it was all starting in my domain—this I would not allow. I had to make plans fast if I was going to crush the naturi once again.
Seven
The Dark Room was more than a mile south of my current location, within the confines of the Victorian District, with its elegant stained-glass windows and gingerbread trim. It was the only nightclub in the region. It was also the only nightclub that catered almost exclusively to the other races, and for very good reason. When the various races got together, accidents tended to happen. During my reign in Savannah, I had burned down two other incarnations of the Dark Room because of fights and human deaths. We had finally learned to play nice together, as well as come up with some rules that worked, which included allowing the lycanthropes in the club except during the week of the full moon. Humans were allowed inside, but they had to be accompanied by nightwalkers.
I quickly walked to the Dark Room, where I knew I would find Knox. Along the way, I made several calls on my cell phone, making preparations as best I could before arriving at the club. Turning the last corner, I found a long line standing outside the club, consisting mostly of humans. Two large men with black T-shirts st
retched across their muscled chests guarded the front door. One was a werewolf and the other a vampire, there to make sure that both races were treated fairly and allowed into the club.
As I approached, the eyes of the nightwalker flared slightly in surprise and he stepped away from the door to let me pass. “Mira,” he whispered. “It’s been quiet, I swear.”
I swallowed my rude comment and walked wordlessly past him and the crowd, which was now grumbling at my entrance ahead of them. Regardless of whether it rankled my nerves, I understood the bouncer’s comments. The last time I’d shown up at the Dark Room, I had to dispose of two nightwalkers who broke some of the more basic rules of the club—no feeding immediately outside the club and no turning a human on the premises.
I quickly passed through the narrow hall that held two empty coat check rooms and paused before the main floor. The Dark Room was a sanctuary of decadent luxury within the city. The main floor was dimly lit with small sconces around the room, casting a thick red light. The walls were lined with deep booths partially hidden by thick velvet curtains. The center was a massive dance floor, where creatures now swayed and writhed to the low, almost hypnotic music that swelled in the air. Where the Docks had been filled with fast and hard beats that created an almost frantic need within its occupants, the Dark Room was a slow seduction of the senses. The Docks was made for humans who wanted to pretend to be dark predators; the Dark Room was made for predators who didn’t want to hide what they were.
My eyes skimmed the room while I lightly reached out with my powers to search for Knox. The small bar on the left side was relatively empty, but that was normal. The only ones who ever used it were the lycanthropes and the human companions of the nightwalkers. Alcohol consumption was not what kept this place open. It was an exclusive club. All nightwalkers and lycanthropes that entered the club were on a members’ list and paid annual dues. Furthermore, if they ever brought in guests, there was a second set of dues that had to be paid. Attending the Dark Room was a status symbol, a sign that you had not only achieved other status, but also acquired some wealth. And the more guests you brought, the more money you had.
Of course, paying your dues didn’t guarantee you admittance on any given night. If the place reached capacity—which was relatively low, in an effort to avoid confrontations—you couldn’t be admitted. Also, if you had recently pissed me off, you were on the no-admittance list until I said otherwise.
I stood at the entrance to the main room for only a moment before a tall, lean nightwalker stepped out of a shadowy booth and stared at me. I hadn’t told Knox I was coming, so my presence at the nightclub naturally surprised him. He tilted his head to his right before turning and walking in that direction. I cut across the dance floor, weaving through the crowd, to meet him as he opened a door at the back of the building. There were several private rooms in the club that were used for feeding and other activities. However, feeding was the only thing specifically outlawed in the main room.
As I stepped past Knox, he ran an index finger down my bare arm, wiping away some of the blood I had missed. “Looks like you’ve had an interesting evening,” he slowly drawled. “The Butcher?”
I roughly seized his wrist as he raised his finger to his mouth, halting him in the act of tasting what he assumed to be a very messy meal. “Naturi.”
Knox stumbled backward from me, jerking his wrist from my grasp. He frantically wiped his hand and wrist on his dark slacks while a string of low German curses escaped him. I gave him a few moments to collect himself.
At just under six feet, Knox had a lean, narrow build, a mix of bone and hard muscle. He was nearly two centuries old, still somewhat young, but very powerful and intelligent for his age. But that was no great surprise considering his maker. Valerio very rarely converted a human, but when he did, it was always with a great deal of care.
Knox moved into my domain less than two decades ago, and has served as my nightwalker assistant almost that long. While we had no official name for it, he served as a type of second-in-command. His mere presence helped to maintain the peace. Yet, I never used him as an enforcer. While he was more than strong enough for the task, I preferred to handle such things personally.
“The Butcher is in league with the naturi?” Knox asked when he was finally calm again.
“Actually, the naturi was a gift for me,” I said with a light shrug. I turned and walked past the black leather sofa and matching chair to the far wall. Putting my back against the wall, I slid down until I was seated on the floor with my knees bent before me. I was tired and needed a few moments to think.
Knox pushed the ottoman closer to me with his foot and sat on the edge. “He comes into your domain, kills five nightwalkers, and then gives you naturi as a gift. Forgive me if I’m slow, but what the hell?”
“It’s more complicated than that,” I murmured, dropping the bloodstained T-shirt I’d been carrying next to me. I threaded my fingers through the thick charcoal-gray carpet that stretched through the room and helped to muffle our conversation.
“I sincerely hope so,” Knox said.
Resting my head against the wall, I looked up, watching him brush some sandy blond hair from where it fell across his forehead. I had grown accustomed to his dry wit and calming influence during the past few years. It took a great deal to rattle him, but it appeared that the naturi was one of those things, given the lines of strain around his mouth. I was grateful Valerio had at least taken the time to educate Knox on that dangerous bit of history.
“I have to leave town for a while,” I said, pulling my fingers into a loose fist. I hated not being here if the naturi were running around my domain, but they had to be stopped, and the answers I needed could not be found here.
“Are you leaving because of the Butcher or the naturi?”
“Both. While I am gone, spread the word that I want everyone pulled close to the city. No one is to hunt alone until I return or send word that it is safe. And do not mention the naturi. I don’t want a panic.”
Knox rubbed his temples and forehead with one hand, staring off into space for a moment. “This will make things…difficult.”
I knew what he meant. While we frequently congregated at the Dark Room, nightwalkers were solitary, independent creatures by nature. Forcing vampires to stay within close proximity for an extended period of time was asking for trouble. But telling them that the naturi were close would only make matters worse.
“I hope to get this taken care of as quickly as possible. Where is Amanda?”
“Concert at SSU,” Knox quickly replied, referring to Savannah State University. The college was relatively small, but frequently played host to a variety of bands, both known and unknown. The college also made for a great feeding ground for nightwalkers. “Do you want me to summon her?”
“No, talk to her after the concert, fill her in. Get her to help you keep the peace.”
While they looked nothing alike, I frequently referred to them as my Doublemint Twins because they both had the same shade of blond hair. Amanda wasn’t quite fifty years old, but had taken to vampirism like a fish to water, seemingly without the struggles many her age went through. I had no idea who her creator was. She had simply appeared in my domain ten years ago and seemed to instantly fit in. Of course, her sunny yet positively brutal personality won a special place in my heart. Despite her youth, she managed to keep a tight rein on some of the younger nightwalkers. If Knox was considered my second-in-command, then Amanda had managed to quietly attain a type of sergeant-at-arms position.
“What about the Butcher?”
“He will be gone from my domain before I leave.” I hadn’t yet decided how I would take care of the hunter, but I would not leave him here while I was away. Right now, he was balanced between too dangerous to leave alive and too important to kill. I was still waiting for the scales to finally tilt in one direction.
Knox opened his mouth to say something, but the words were halted by a knock at the door.
“Use your best judgment.” By the finality in my tone, Knox knew he was being dismissed. The blond vampire nodded once and then left the room as Barrett Rainer entered.
Given his broad shoulders and somewhat stocky build, it was no surprise that Barrett Rainer was a werewolf. The man was more than 250 pounds of pure muscle, but he moved with a subtle grace, dancing between animal and man. What was surprising to most was that he was the head of one of the most powerful packs in the country. The Savannah pack wasn’t the largest—that honor belonged to a pack in Montana—but its members had been carefully bred, trained, and in some cases selected for their strength, speed, and intelligence.
And at the top of the heap was Barrett Rainer with his burnished gold hair and copper-colored eyes. Like his predecessors, Barrett had been groomed since birth to assume his current role. Of course, the Savannah pack was unusual in that since its very beginning, it had always been run by a member of the Rainer family.
It was this steady consistency over the years that had enabled me to strengthen the relations with the lycanthropes in the area. In most cases, nightwalkers and shapeshifters didn’t generally play well together, as each side attempted to carve out a territory of its own. Only through steady negotiations with Barrett, his father, and his grandfather had I been able to work out a stable peace. That’s not to say we didn’t have our occasional scuffle, but at least it wasn’t the secret wars and strained truces found in other regions around the world.
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