She didn’t even know if that was her real name.
That had been a decade ago and Hope still had no answers. All she had was a nagging sense of duty—that there was some vital task only she could complete. Every day that went by that didn’t reveal her task left her feeling more restless and defeated.
There was something inside her—some forgotten knowledge she could almost put her finger on. It was there, evading her grasp, but she knew it was there. When Logan had been holding her, she’d almost been able to remember why she was here.
“I need to go,” said Hope.
Barb shook her head. “Not until we know what happened. It’s not safe.”
Hope had to find him. She had to find Logan and figure out what he knew. Maybe he knew who she was. What she was.
“I’m leaving. Bring me whatever paperwork you need me to sign, but do it fast. I won’t wait.”
Whoever Logan was, Hope didn’t want him to get far. She was going to find him. And then she was going to force him to give her the answers she needed. One way or another.
Logan met Steve and Pam in their apartment. They were fine. All three of them. Logan called Joseph—the leader of the Theronai—and asked him to send someone to guard them so they could rest. He then did what he could to remove the memory of tonight from their minds. He didn’t want them to worry—didn’t want the memory to draw more demons to them.
Tomorrow the couple would go to Dabyr, where they’d be safe. After tonight’s attack, living in the city was no longer an option for them. If Logan hadn’t been so close, if the GPS gadget on his cell phone hadn’t made it possible for Steve’s call to go to the closest Sentinel—namely Logan—things would have turned out very different tonight. It served only to display just how fragile their progress truly was.
As Logan got back in his van, the blond woman’s face danced in his head. It was strange to no longer feel weak and hungry. Even walking inside Steve’s formidable mind had been easy. There was no effort. No strain.
The power in that woman’s blood was amazing. Too bad Logan knew he had to share.
Out of habit, he turned on the engine to get some heat before he realized he wasn’t cold. Still.
Normally, the flush of feeding would have faded by now, leaving him chilled to the bone. For some reason, this time was different.
Logan dialed Tynan’s cell phone. “We need to meet.”
“Why?”
“I have blood to share.”
“A new source?” The weariness in Tynan’s voice worried Logan.
“Yes. A young woman. Her blood is strong. It’s possible she may even be a Theronai.”
“Are you sure?”
“No. Her blood is different from theirs—unlike any I’ve had before.”
“We’ll need to find her a suitable mate as soon as possible. Is she currently attached to a male?”
Logan hadn’t even considered that possibility, but as soon as he did, anger stirred inside him. “I don’t know.”
“Find out. If she is, find out if her mate is suitably blooded.”
“And if not?” asked Logan.
“Remove him from her life.”
Her face appeared in Logan’s mind, as vivid and clear as if she were sitting next to him. She had a sweet face. Kind, amber eyes the color of autumn sunset. Not only was she lovely, she was obviously caring as well. Why else would she have stayed to help him at great risk to her own life?
“I won’t do that,” said Logan. “I won’t hurt her.”
“We both know she’ll be happier paired with a mate of our choosing.”
“Who’s to say that’s true? It’s not something we can prove, simply something we tell ourselves to relieve the guilt of what we must do.”
Tynan’s voice hardened. “All of our matches are happy ones. We make sure of that.”
“What if we’re wrong, just this one time? I can’t let that happen.”
“Then I’ll send someone who can. Where are you?”
Logan debated not telling him. Only the knowledge that their race couldn’t afford any animosity held his rebellion. “Promise me you’ll be the one to come and see to her. I don’t want to entrust her to anyone else.”
“Why?” asked Tynan, his skepticism clear.
“Her blood is too pure to risk.”
“Are you certain there’s not more to it than that?”
“Like what?” asked Logan.
“Do you have feelings for the woman?”
“Of course not. No more than is reasonable.”
“You can’t become involved with her,” said Tynan. “None of us can. If she’s human, we need her to breed. If she’s Theronai, she’s off-limits.”
“I do not need you to tell me the facts.”
“You’re not detached enough. Without detachment our goals will become confused.”
Anger made Logan’s voice sharp. “I’m perfectly clear about our goals.”
“And what might those be, Logan?”
“The same as yours. Survival of our race. We’ll pair her with an acceptable mate and all will be well.”
“If she’s human, do you want to bed her first? Get her out of your system? That can be arranged.”
Said in such a cold, clinical tone, the idea made Logan sneer. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I don’t.”
“As you wish. I’ll come, sample her blood myself as soon as I can get away, and we’ll see her happily settled.”
Do you want to bed her first?
The question haunted Logan, putting into his head a possibility that should not exist. He hadn’t wanted a woman in centuries. He’d been too hungry, too weak for his body to respond in any sexual way. Until tonight.
He wasn’t weak now. Thanks to her blood, there was a stirring of something he’d thought long dead—an interest that went beyond survival. Holding her, feeding from her, had aroused him. Made him hard.
He wanted her. There was no denying it, but that didn’t mean he’d act on that desire.
“Come soon,” said Logan. “I don’t know how long they’ll keep her at the hospital. She was too weak for me to remove her memories, so that must still be done.”
“You won’t lose her. Her blood is yours now.”
Which meant he’d be able to find her if he chose to do so. Always.
Already the temptation to do just that was something he had to actively resist. “I have one quick errand to run, and then I’ll be off. I can’t stay and help you.”
“You mean you won’t stay,” said Tynan.
“As you say.”
Logan hung up the phone and drove toward the address that had been written in blood on his bathroom mirror. As he passed through the frozen streets, his mind filled with thoughts of what might await him. Would it be a home filled with people who could feed his race? The location of a gateway into Athanasia they could access? Even a group of humans willing to help them without all the coercion and lies would have been a welcome sight.
When he pulled up in front of the run-down building where he’d fought earlier tonight, and read the address, his excitement died.
This place, this Tyler building, did not house the savior of his race. It was simply an empty structure, void of hope. Worse yet, it was entirely possible that it had been a trap—that the creature he’d fought tonight had been sent here to wait for his arrival and had caught Steve’s and Pam’s scents as they’d passed by earlier.
Logan’s throat burned with anger as he stared at the run-down building. Power raged inside him, tempting him to raze the thing to the ground.
He could do it. He had enough strength now.
But if he did, he’d waste all the power she’d given him. He couldn’t do that, no matter how angry he became. Self-control was as vital to his people’s survival as blood. All the Sanguinar knew that, and those who didn’t had died. Or been killed.
Logan wasn’t always proud of the choices he’d had to make over the years, but he was still standing, as were m
any of his kind. Without those unpleasant choices, the Sanguinar would have been long extinct. And if that happened, it would be only a matter of time before the Theronai and Slayers fell as well, and the human race was left with no protectors.
The ends justified the means. It had to. After all the things Logan had done, it simply had to.
Chapter 4
Hope couldn’t sleep. As tired as she was, every time she closed her eyes, she saw Logan’s face. Beautiful. Suffering. Powerful.
She wished she didn’t know his name. Somehow, knowing made him seem more real. Without that scrap of information, it would have been easy to pretend that everything that had happened tonight was a figment of her imagination.
Heaven knew her mind wasn’t exactly a fortress. Whatever had stripped her life’s memories away had left its scars. She saw things that couldn’t possibly exist. Felt things that could not be real.
And right now, she was sure she could feel Logan’s presence nearby, moving about the city. There was a warmth emanating from him, like sunlight on her skin.
Part of her willed him to come closer so she could bask in that warmth, while the saner part of her wished he’d just go away—so far she couldn’t feel a thing.
Hope rolled onto her side, facing him. “You’re not real,” she whispered into the darkness of her bedroom.
Somehow, saying it out loud only made it worse. Something had happened tonight that put her in the hospital, and if she couldn’t even trust herself enough to believe what she saw, then she was much worse off than she thought.
Something was wrong with Sibyl. Cain knew it. She hadn’t come out of her room since her parents’ deaths two weeks ago. She’d hardly spoken to him except to tell him she was fine and to ask him to bring her some of her mother’s clothes.
Everyone mourned differently, and the distance that had been between Sibyl and her mother was no doubt adding to the pain of grief now. Perhaps Gilda’s clothes gave Sibyl some kind of comfort. Cain deeply hoped so.
At least she’d been eating. The trays of food he’d left at her door were always returned empty. If not for that, Cain’s fatherly instincts would have kicked in and he’d have removed her from her room by force.
So far, it hadn’t come to that.
Cain retrieved the empty tray and rapped softly on her door. “Sibyl.”
“I’m sleeping.”
No, she wasn’t. He could tell from her voice she was wide-awake. Cain had been watching over her for centuries and she couldn’t fool him with such a bad lie.
“You need to come out. We need to talk.”
“Talking changes nothing.” Her voice sounded odd and deep, as if she were sick, only she never got sick. She had to have been crying.
“You’re wrong. You of all people should know how powerful words can be.”
When Sibyl was eight, she’d promised her mother she’d never grow up. And she hadn’t. Centuries later, she was still trapped in the body of a child.
“Go away. Please.”
Cain sighed. He was a patient man. He’d give her more time. Just not too much. Staying locked away in her room like this wasn’t healthy. He loved her too much to let her destroy herself with grief.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he promised. “We’ll talk then.”
And if not then, he’d keep at her until she relented. Little Sibyl was nothing if not stubborn, and it was Cain’s job to see to it that she didn’t suffer because of the inherited streak.
One way or another, she was coming out of that room and facing reality. And when she did, Cain would be there for her as he always had been.
Sibyl held her breath until she heard Cain’s heavy steps fade as he moved down the hall.
She almost asked him to bring her more food, but she feared he’d figure out that something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Sibyl tugged on the sleeve of Gilda’s gown, trying to hide her wrists. They were all wrong. Bony. Too long. Everything about her new body was wrong.
She took a lurching step forward, tripping on her own feet. As she caught herself against the dresser, she knocked over the trinkets that sat atop it. A small crystal box shattered against the floor.
Her feet were bare. She had nothing that would fit them anymore. If she stepped wrong, she was sure she’d cut herself.
And she was sure she’d step wrong. Her body was no longer her own. It was this odd, alien thing that kept thwarting her every move. And the hunger was nearly unbearable.
The only thing that dulled it was the thought of her parents lying crushed under all that stone.
Cain hadn’t told her that part, but he hadn’t needed to. Sibyl had known it would happen all along. She’d known they’d die. That her sister, Maura, would be the cause of it. She’d seen all that in her visions. And she’d mourned for them a long time ago.
What she hadn’t seen was herself, this gangly body and the loss of her ability.
The future was no longer her domain. She couldn’t see it. Couldn’t gift it to others. It stretched out, bleak and unknown, as if she were some normal person.
Without her ability, that’s exactly what she was. Normal. Nothing special.
Sibyl couldn’t even reach Maura anymore. Not even through the doll.
For the first time in her life, she was truly alone. Truly afraid.
“You look like you’ve been run over by a truck,” said Jodi. Her blond hair was pulled up in a ponytail that stuck out through the back of a KC Royals baseball cap. Giant silver hearts swung from her earlobes.
“Gee, thanks,” said Hope.
The workroom of the studio was Jodi’s territory. She framed and matted all of Hope’s portraits and photographs, and the woman had an eye for the job. What had started as a friendship forged during a business management class had bloomed into a growing business for both of them. Hope snapped the pictures; Jodi took them and created art.
Morning light streamed in, glinting off the tools lined up on Jodi’s workbench. The walls in here were covered in beautiful pieces—little instances of people’s lives that would live on for as long as the ink and paper lasted. Memories that could not be erased.
Hope’s friend, roommate, and coworker ran her blade down the mat, making a perfect cut. “I call ’em like I see’em. No one’s going to want their picture taken by a woman who can’t even keep her eyes open. You should call it quits and take a nap.”
“I only have one more appointment today. I’ll manage.”
Jodi grinned, waggling her pale eyebrows. “So, where were you last night? Or should I say this morning?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
Hope considered blurting out the truth. Sadly, she couldn’t think of a way to say it without using the word vampire, so she resisted the urge. “I met this guy and lost track of time.”
“Uh-huh,” said Jodi, her tone disbelieving. “One has a tendency to lose track of time when one is macking on some hot guy. He was hot, right?”
Logan’s face flashed in her mind, all perfect symmetry and stark angles. Just the thought had her fingers itching for her camera. She could take a great photo of him. Except she wasn’t sure vampires could even be photographed. Or that he was even real.
It had taken all morning, but she had convinced herself that last night’s events were nothing more than a bizarre dream. There was no horrible monster. No beautiful Logan. All those events were simply something her mind had constructed to combat her fear of going near the Tyler building where she’d been found a decade ago.
“Hello. Hope. Are you in there?” asked Jodi, waving her hand in front of Hope’s face. The large silver heart ring she wore caught the morning light and left little spots floating in Hope’s vision.
“Sorry. I’m just tired.”
Jodi took Hope by the arm and led her out of the workroom toward the stairway that led to their shared apartment upstairs. “Go to bed, girl. I’ll wake you up as soon as your one o’c
lock gets here.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe a nap would clear her head and rid her of the last remnants of a man who couldn’t possibly exist.
Madoc stepped into Joseph’s office unannounced. His black hair was a mess, as if he’d just gotten out of bed. “There’s a naked man at the front gate. He’s a Slayer.”
Shock raced through Joseph, silencing him for a moment. Why would their enemy be at the gate? Was it some kind of trick? Custom dictated that a party offering to negotiate would show up naked as proof they were unarmed, but after so many years of the stagnant war between them, why would the Slayers want to negotiate anything? “What does he want?”
“He asked to talk to you. Do I let him in or do I kill him?” Madoc’s blunt features were expressionless, as if he truly didn’t care which of those alternatives Joseph picked.
“Is he alone?”
“No. There are some men sitting in their vehicles at the main road. The only person at his side is one very pissed-off woman.”
A woman? If one of the Slayers had found a female Theronai, would they have stuck to the old laws and brought her here? It wasn’t likely, but it was possible, and with all the women popping up lately, Joseph refused to take any chances. “Let him and the woman in, but only them. Make them walk. No vehicles past the gate. Alert the men to be ready for trouble. Meet me at the front doors.”
Madoc nodded and left.
Joseph combed his fingers through his hair and straightened his clothes. It wouldn’t do his people any good to show up looking like the insomniac he was.
He hurried from his office, his mind spinning with possibilities. By the time he wound his way through the building, a dozen men were waiting for him at the front doors. They were all armed and their faces were grim.
He addressed them, looking each one in the eyes. “I don’t want any trouble. Keep your swords sheathed unless I order otherwise. If this is a trick, we’ll make sure it’s the last of its kind.”
Blood Hunt Page 4
