by Deanna Chase
In a flash, her body is yanked backward before a sound escapes her throat. She’s dragged into what appears from the décor to be suite six, where we found John Pierre’s body. The door closes while Sheba screams, flailing her arms as she goes. Only a few seconds pass before we see John Pierre running back into the room. From Sheba’s disjointed vantage point, it appears he attacks whoever is holding her right as she feels a sharp nick at her neck.
John Pierre’s tackle gives her the break she needs to get away and she bolts for the door. She hears John Pierre close behind her then hears a sickening thud and a heavy thump muffled by the carpet. Sheba glances back as she races down the empty hall to see if she is still being pursued. A white-haired vampire with an angry expression and extended fangs locks his gaze on hers and all goes blank after that.
His face looks familiar, but for the life of me, I can’t place it. I focus instead on trying to restore Sheba’s lost memories, carefully rebuilding the lost scenes, so that when I let go of my control, she will remember everything. In the next memory scenes, I come across actions it may be best if she didn’t remember.
Flashes of images really. Her memory has many more holes here. A terror-filled moment with Sheba trying to scream in pain and mentally thrashing while locked inside her own mind. Her physical actions are locked down tight—she can’t control her body, but she is moving. I feel and see part of her naked form, unable to respond to her will. It moves in jerky movements and is forced through a series of sexual positions. All while her mind screams endlessly.
Blood is taken from her over and over without leaving marks or bruises. There was no need for her rapist to physically restrain or force her since she could not resist his mind manipulation. He raped her mind as well as her body, feeding off her fear as he did these heinous acts.
The black rage consuming me is familiar. I’ve seen this type of treatment before. It leaves no trace of doubt in my mind who our killer could be. I ended the same violence when I encountered it eight years ago. I will end it again now. All I have to do is track down the sick bastard to do it.
This more recent part of Sheba’s memory, of the rape and terror, I will not restore. I don’t want to see the spark of life in her go out and have the horror that I see here replace it. His abuse lasted over an hour. She does not need to relive it. Ever. I carefully wipe out all remaining traces, interweaving what I want her to know. Rafe squeezes my shoulder to let me know he agrees with my actions.
I insert a fake memory of the killer catching her and altering her mind to forget the murder, but make sure she knows what happened to John Pierre. I have to give her that. I go deeper into the snapshots to remove the most sordid parts. Examining them more this time for clearer traces of his face and details of his actions. I know who this man is, and if he gave her any of his blood, I must sever his link.
Thankfully, I can’t find a mental connection between the two. There’s no way for him to call her even if he wishes. He must not have forced her to drink from him. If I’m right and it’s who I think it is, maybe he has become so deranged he doesn’t keep his playthings anymore.
I ease out of Sheba’s mind, suggesting she rest for a while, in a last gentle push. I lower her sleeping body to recline on the couch then turn to face Rafe.
“Did you see?” My voice sounds thin and hollow.
Rafe nods.
“Could it really have been him?” I ask. “He looks so different.”
“Eight years is a long time.”
“I thought he was dead. They promised me.”
“The Tribunal of Ancients has their own rules for justice. You of all people should know that. I’m not sure what happened to him when they took him off our hands.”
I still can’t believe that fetid excuse for a vampire made it back here, but Rafe has to be right. It had to be a Tribunal ruling that saved him. “And I’m the fool who trusted them.”
Rafe fixes his eyes on mine, pulling me out of the horrible images plaguing my mind. “Now I know why Drew’s wife looked so familiar when you shared his memory with me. That dead woman is the key to this whole mess. I know it.”
Chapter Seventeen
I knew the woman looked familiar when I saw her in Drew’s mind, but I couldn’t quite place her face. The first time I saw her she was in sad shape. I blocked the whole experience because I couldn’t tolerate the images in my head anymore. It’s a difficult, and some may say a slightly unhealthy, way to live–but hey, it’s served me well over the years.
The woman from eight years ago, Angie, was the mate of a sadistic vampire. He’d kept her mind and will completely locked deep inside her head, and did whatever he wanted with her. When I first greeted the couple in the lobby of our inn, I had no idea what was going on. At the time, she pulled away from my handshake and I didn’t push trying to read her. I figured I would greet her later and see more then.
On their first night at The V V Inn, her then-husband, Ivan, a vampire about a hundred years old, requested a donor be sent to their suite. Debi, the employee who went, was the first ever to use the panic-button bracelets. Ivan attempted to force Debi into a mind-controlling stare. Debi had the wherewithal to trust her instincts and hit the button right when he locked gazes with her. When I answered the alarm, she was stripping out of her clothing.
That in itself wouldn’t have been a reason to worry, but the blank stare combined with the call for help prompted me to reach out and touch her to see if anything was wrong. Once I uncovered what Ivan was doing, I pinned him in place with my will. My next touch of Angie revealed her horrible plight. Ivan raped and tortured her for a full year with no one in their seethe the wiser. His control over her was so complete, he spoke through her and guided her actions in all matters.
But she was aware. And he knew it. He fed off her fear, disgust, and shame. Over the course of the year, he escalated what he made her do.
Their mate bond ensured she could never leave him. What was meant to be a gift of trust and love had been warped beyond any semblance of normalcy. Their minds were so interwoven through the mate bond ritual, that if the bond were to be broken, only the vampire would survive. When Ivan finally tired of her, he could find another victim to torment for years but ultimately Angie would perish.
So appalled by what I saw, I did what I often do—acted on instinct and damn the consequences.
I severed their mate bond, like a surgeon wielding a scalpel. Something, according to our ancients, cannot be done.
The ensuing mess and involvement of the Tribunal was horrendous. I even altered Ivan’s mind to make him think Angie had died during my rescue of Debi. It was touch and go there for a while on what his punishment from the ancients would be. I was assured the verdict for his horrendous abuse would be death. That will teach me to trust a bunch of old, pompous, undead assholes again.
I spent the next few days erasing and healing Angie’s mind. When Angie eventually left us, she was a new woman. I alone remembered her previous pain. It turned out exactly as I’d hoped.
“What are the chances this is not Ivan?” Rafe asks.
“I was wondering the same thing. I erased the location of the inn from his mind. Remember?”
“It was the smart thing to do—the only thing to do. It was a precaution in case they didn’t kill him.” He pauses and considers a moment. “Could you have been discovered in his mind—you know, tampering with his thoughts?”
“No, absolutely not,” I say with utter conviction.
“Hmm…”
Rafe apparently has his doubts, but that’s okay. I know the extent of my skill, and I’m not going to waste my time trying to convince him right now. Jackass. “I did not erase all his memories from that night, only the location of the inn. It was the easiest way to go unnoticed in my tampering.”
“Okay, then. Where does that leave us?” He ticks off on his fingers. “The Tribunal didn’t kill him,” one finger goes up. “He has somehow made it here,” second one follows. “And his for
mer wife’s second husband is a guest with us.” The last annoying finger goes up, and I have to hold back the desire to reach out and break it off.
I hate it when the obvious is pointed out to me in a neat, little numbered format. I really don’t see how it helps me solve the problem.
“Earth to Dria, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Damn him. Of course, with my snide rambling thoughts I’m not thinking, period.
“I bet Ivan tracked Angie down after he served the sentence the tribunal gave him,” he says. “Or he escaped, and then went for Drew after he killed Angie.”
“Yes, yes, logically that makes sense. But you’re forgetting an important step. How did he know where to find Angie?” I raise my eyebrow in a challenge. I know what he’s thinking and I’m going to force him to say it, the rat bastard. “He had to know about Angie to track her to Drew.”
Rafe adds a little warily, seeing the heat in my gaze and the anger below the surface, “Which only would have worked if he got through your mind wipe of the events…”
“No! That. Did. Not. Happen.” I’m emphatic on this point, and I won’t budge. I know it didn’t go down that way, but he’s going to think I’m paranoid when I tell him what I truly think. My heated voice causes the sleeping Sheba to stir, so we rise and move into the kitchen to give her some peace.
Once there, Rafe takes a seat at the table. “What other alternative is there?” he asks, in a calm, reasonable tone one might use to address a maniac in a hostage situation.
Prick. I’ll prove myself right, in time, if not right now. But this is one time I wish I were wrong. “I think someone on the tribunal set me up.”
His expression turns pensive, like he’s debating the idea. He shakes his head and meets my angry stare. “No, Dria, I don’t see it happening. There are too many variables in that scenario. You make a huge assumption to think the ancients could be that corrupt.”
“Some of them have been in the past,” I say.
That gets Rafe’s attention. I don’t talk much about my twenty years as an enforcer for the Tribunal. “How long ago did you serve them?”
I cross my arms over my chest and look out the window into the snowy darkness. “Serve is not the right word, really. I took direction from them to hunt down particularly bad cases.” The sparkle from the rope lights dances in the windowpane, and a sigh escapes me at the simple beauty. “It was about four-hundred and fifty years ago, and my full powers had manifested about sixty years prior to that.”
“How many of them had you killed by the time you left?”
My head whips to him. I’ve never discussed this before, and his question has caught me by surprise. “How did you know?”
“You always get sad and distant when you talk of your past. I knew you must have left bodies behind.”
My eyes fill with moisture, but not a tear trickles. “I killed two of the worst ancients. After I drained them, I made them crawl into the full sun when their guards weren’t around. Both deaths looked like suicides, and I spaced them about a decade apart.”
“You’re very lucky.” He comes over, placing his arms around me in a hug. “They never connected it to the ‘Red Death’ rumor from the devastation in your first seethe?”
“No, I made sure my first name, Ceara, died with that seethe and made myself over in the fifty years after. We’ve gone over this before, Rafe. Why bring it all up again?” I pull away from his warmth and lean against the counter.
“You’ve never talked much about your time as an enforcer and I think it has colored your opinion of the Tribunal of Ancients.”
I snort through my nose at that one. “The Tribunal is necessary, I get that. But they are not all sunshine and daisies. Believe me.”
“I do, but in a thousand years, they have done a lot of good too. Kept the worse bastards from continuing on and have worked to hide your kind from detection.”
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I note the time, and realize I’m about to be saved from discussing any more of this unpleasant topic. I push away from my position next to the sink, grabbing the phone as I go. Punching in Jonathan’s number, I wait for him to pick up while responding to Rafe. “Yeah, well, looks like they didn’t do too well with this bastard. They let him go.”
Jon answers after the third ring, recognizing my voice right away. “I ordered breakfast for you before we head up to suite six,” I tell him. “But it’s kind of redundant now.”
“What is? Why?” Jon asks.
“ ’Cause we figured out who did it and why. Come on over. We’ve got a lot to fill you in on.”
I hang up, turning back to Rafe. I see he’s still unconvinced with my conspiracy theory. I shouldn’t dig, but I do anyway. “You’re remembering the polite faces of the Tribunal members during the dealings with Ivan. One of them must have had a hidden agenda… obviously.”
“We’ll talk it over with Jon when he gets here, okay? Maybe he’ll see something we’ve missed.”
“It’s a moot point anyway, isn’t it? We’re going to sniff the room in a minute and then the rest doesn’t really matter, does it?” A smug smile hangs on my face. “The scent will match Ivan and you’ll be groveling in apology.”
There’s a knock on the entrance door to our suite. “Is that the breakfast you mentioned to Jon?” I nod and Rafe heads to get the tray.
By the time he sets up the table with the contents from the tray and pours coffee from the carafe, Jon arrives at the back door. He looks fresh-faced and spectacular this morning. I bet he hooked up with one of his fellow employees last night when he cut out of here early. Good for him. It appears to have softened the tension he had last night after he stumbled on Rafe and me coming up from the basement.
Hanging up his coat, Jon turns to us, giving me a once over. “I heard what happened in the bar last night.” He smirks and adds, “News travels fast in this place.”
Er, which part is he referring to? Good God, it seems like last night went on forever. I raise my eyebrows to indicate he’ll need to let me know what the hell he’s talking about.
“Good thing you’ve got lots of skirts, eh?” Jon raises his eyebrows with a wiggle. “Charlie certainly loved retelling that part over and over.”
Oh, my ass on display. Great.
I shrug my shoulders. “Glad to be a constant source of amusement for the ex-lumberjack.” My face remains neutral. In the big scheme of what has happened, that detail seems inconsequential. “Rafe, would you mind filling him in on all that has happened? I want to clean up and get ready for the day.”
Rafe nods and digs in to his food while it’s still steaming. I leave the men and contemplate what I'm going to wear. I'll be meeting Asa today and will have to give him a tour of the place. Plus, I’ve got a tea scheduled with Olivia, and a nooner tour with Liam and his mate on the fun floor.
Dressing in layers sounds like the best approach. I strip off everything and take the fastest shower I can. I pull on a black lace Merry Widow with matching thong panties, pairing both with sheer black stockings to complete the first layer. Next, I choose a snug, soft gray, turtleneck cashmere sweater with a below-the-knee charcoal, pinstriped suit skirt. The nice part about the skirt is it will hide most of the thigh-high, patent leather black boots I’ll be wearing.
Zipping up the second boot, I take a last look in the full-length mirror before heading into the kitchen. It’s a fine line between intelligent innkeeper and a moment’s transformation into a sexual dynamo, but I think I did a good job this morning. I fluff up my hair and give it a good shake, ready for whatever rolls my way in the next few hours.
After grabbing my cell phone and the notebook containing my thoughts on the crime, I check my watch as I stroll into the hall. I’m happy to see it is almost eight and I’m right on time. Being late drives me nuts. The sounds from the small kitchen are of plates clanking and chairs scraping.
“How was breakfast, boys?” I ask, feeling cheerier than when I went in to change.
“Great.” Rafe pats his full stomach. “Paul is one of the best additions we’ve made to this place. When is his contract up?”
“His latest two-year contract expires the end of next season. You worried he’ll leave us?”
Jonathan snorts at that. “Where else can a chef earn two hundred K to cook for a max of thirty people a day? For that matter, who the hell pays the basic ground crew and maids a hundred? No worries on that front, Viv. They’ll stay as long as you want.”
I look over and raise an eyebrow. “Are you complaining? You earn more than both of them put together. If you want a salary adjustment, just say the word.”
Jon holds up both hands in a stop gesture. “Nah, don’t get hasty there, lady. No complaining, simply pointing out the employees have plenty of incentive to stay. Loyalty through excellent pay and great working conditions can go a long way in today’s economy, and you two provide both.” He winks. “And then there’s the perks the guests add. Never a dull moment here, that’s for damn sure.”
Rafe stands, pushing in his chair. He glances over his shoulder to the slumbering Sheba on the couch. “How long is she going to be out? I don’t want her in our suite when we’re not here.”
“Can you give the front desk a call and have someone take her back to her room?” I answer. “She’ll be out for at least six more hours.”
Jon surprises me and says, “I'll take her up. She’s staying on the second floor where we’re going, right?”
He walks across the room and gently slides his hands under the voluptuous curves of the cocoa-skinned beauty. “You did the right thing, Viv. Rafe filled me in. There was no other way you could have gone.”
I grunt in response. “Yeah, but I’m still shocked it’s Ivan. I really thought he was dead. What are your thoughts on how he found us?”
Jon stands, cradling the woman to his chest. He looks at Rafe, making brief eye contact before replying. “I think it will be interesting to see what we smell in the room. Let’s get a move on and I’ll share my thoughts when we’re done.”
