“Think room service has chocolate cake?” Riley asked, tearing her eyes away from the bike. It seemed like whenever food was mentioned, she would get a glazed look in her eyes, like a junkie being offered a fix, which made him wonder just how often in her past she’d gone without food. Considering how skinny she was, Scott was certain that, when her metabolism and the more rigorous necessities of her job met, no restaurant’s all-you-can-eat buffet survived.
“I’ve never come across a single room service menu that didn’t offer some form of chocolate cake,” he said. “Usually at an exorbitant price.”
“I once paid twenty-two bucks for a slice of chocolate cake,” Riley replied. “Nothing is too much for my taste.”
Scott chuckled and offered her his elbow. “Well then, I’ll be awesome and make sure the Agency buys you two slices of ridiculously expensive cake,” he offered. He scanned the street and buildings again. “Hell, for all I care, you can eat just cake for dinner if that’s what floats your boat.”
Riley ignored his proffered elbow. “Better watch it. I’ll take you up on that suggestion,” she warned. She tilted her head to look at him with warm brown eyes that sparkled. His breath caught in his throat as his initial attraction to her reared its ugly head, even past the perpetual buzz of annoyance he usually felt around her.
Aw hell, he thought. He had a crush. Like he was in high school again. He mentally wrangled the emotion in check. He was there to work, not to check out the package beside him, as lovely as it may be, he reminded himself as he and Riley walked toward the rental they’d left in front of the building. He felt uncomfortable ogling Riley so soon after his wife’s passing. Sure, he and Amy had discussed their wishes if the other should die, and she’d said she wanted him to date when he felt ready. But in Scott’s mind, there was a question of being ready and of being distasteful about it. Besides, he didn’t believe he was ready to plunge into seeing women again—not yet, anyway. Which was why his attraction to Riley bothered him.
And that was completely ignoring the fact he was supposed to be keeping an eye on her for the Internal Affairs investigation he’d been forced into. He was still fuming over being dragged into that department again unwillingly, especially when Riley seemed so devoted to her job. Sure, she had an attitude problem, but he didn’t think that that was justifiable reason to put Internal Affairs on her. Unless something else was going on that he didn’t know about yet. And if that were the case…
If that were the case, maybe it wasn’t her he was supposed to be watching.
“You look like you’re thinking way too hard about something.” Riley’s voice broke through the haze of thoughts coating Scott’s brain, and he shifted his gaze back to her. “Something wrong? Or are you just thinking about the assignment?”
Scott shook his head before he realized that he’d answered two questions with one answer. He sighed and shrugged. “I was just thinking about all of that back there.” He nodded toward the building beside them. “About what Zachariah showed us and told us. What do you think of all that?”
“It was fun,” Riley admitted. “I actually feel like I learned a lot. And even if this whole Unnaturals thing doesn’t work out, hey, now I’ve got new ways to deal with my regular assignments.” She smiled. “I think I’m starting to like Zachariah, too. He seems pretty amusing, and judging by his reaction when he found out Ashton had already shown us the vampire, I think he and I might have a lot in common.”
“What, do you both have the poke-dangerous-things-with-sticks attitude?” Scott asked.
Riley laughed. “Oh, definitely. What’s the fun in life if you can’t jab a few things with sticks?” she said brightly. “You know, I thought I was going to hate this assignment. Like flat out, hardcore hate. But now, I don’t know.” She looked back at the building. “I think I can tolerate it now.”
“Yeah, same here,” Scott said. “Zachariah seems very knowledgeable. I think even I stand a chance of learning a few things—”
A faint skittering noise reached his ears, and he fell silent, turning his head to the right. He squinted into the darkness blanketing the street, even as Riley grasped his arm. “Did you hear that too?” she breathed, her words audible enough to carry to his ears. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing him to a standstill beside her.
“Yeah, I did,” Scott admitted. Riley released her grip on his arm and took a step to the side, putting space between them so they wouldn’t get in each other’s way in the event of a fight. He dropped his hand to his hip, slipping his fingers underneath his shirt to grasp his Walther. The sound of scratching and skittering met his ears again. He turned on his heel, putting his back to Riley; she mirrored his movements, and together, they tried to search through the darkness for the source of the sound. “Maybe it’s a rat,” he suggested, though he was unconvinced. “Like one of those giant sewer ones.”
“I thought those were only in New York City,” Riley replied. She sounded doubtful and maybe a little bit like she thought the idea of one in their neck of the woods was more than slightly ridiculous. “I had one run across my foot during an assignment once. It wasn’t pleasant. If it is one, I want to shoot it.”
“That’s nice to know, Riley, but we need to focus here,” Scott said. The noise was getting louder, closer. His shoulders tensed as his instincts riled up, and he pulled his sidearm from its holster. “Something’s definitely out there.”
Riley gasped suddenly. “Look out!” she yelped before something leaped out of the darkness and slammed into him. He fell to the concrete, and two hands fisted into the back of his shirt, lifted him off the ground, and slung him aside. He crashed into the side of the black van with bruising force, and his breath rushed from his lungs. His pistol slipped from his hand and slid under the vehicle. He fumbled for it, dragging himself to his knees, and found himself face to face with a vampire.
There was no question that it was a vampire. It resembled the one Ashton had shown them—and Zachariah had killed in front of them—except healthier. Its gray skin was smooth and unmarred, and its blood-red eyes burned into his. He felt frozen under the intensity of its stare, like a foggy haze settling over his brain. Don’t move, something whispered in the back of his mind. Stay still. Let me—
Scott shook his head, and the voice cut off before he found out what he should let it do. The vampire’s red eyes narrowed, and it lunged at him, grabbing his shirt and dragging him in close enough to bite. He jerked back, his shirt ripping, and slammed his fist into the vampire’s face. The vampire’s grip loosened, and he fell back, his hand landing right on the grip of his pistol. Scott scooped it up, shoved the barrel of his pistol against the side of the creature’s head, and squeezed the trigger. The vampire slumped to the pavement amid a spray of black blood and didn’t move again.
Scott rolled and surged to his feet, bringing his pistol to bear. Riley faced off against two vampires, her back pressed against the side of The Unnaturals building, a look of anger on her face. Two more vampires lay dead at her feet. As he aimed his pistol at one of the vampires menacing her, two more dove from the shadows and pounced on him, driving him backward.
Divide and conquer, he thought, recognizing the tactic. If the vampires continued using moves like that, then he and Riley wouldn’t survive the fight. They were far too inexperienced at fighting creatures like these.
They were going to need help.
~*~
Zachariah waited until Scott and Riley had left through the back door before he gave up all pretense of feeling well and retreated to the office to slump over at his desk. He dropped his head into his hands, massaging his temples with his thumbs, and squeezed his eyes shut. His head hurt—his whole body hurt—and he could feel the beginnings of a fever burning under his skin. And if he wasn’t mistaken, he could hear the whispering of voices rising in the back of his mind, melodic voices that were trying to tempt him, trying to lure him to some unknown destination. But not truly unknown—he knew exactly where t
hey wanted him to go, and it wasn’t anywhere good.
Zachariah could feel Ashton staring at him too. He didn’t bother opening his eyes. The blackness inside his head was too comforting, too soothing. He recognized the sound of Ashton rifling through papers before crossing the office and taking a knee by his chair again. Screwing up his courage, he opened his eyes and looked down at the other man.
“Tell me what happened,” Ashton ordered as their gazes met. His expression was easy to read: concerned, worried, a touch of anger mixed in for good measure, and was that even a hint of…fear? No way, he thought. Fear was out of character for Ashton. He was unsure it even existed in the man’s lexicon.
“I gave you the incident report, and I’m pretty sure you’ve already read it,” he said.
Ashton slammed the palm of his hand against the desk. The bang echoed through the room, and Zachariah jumped. “Fuck the incident report! I know you sanitize those things to hell and back because you know I read them. Tell me what happened.”
Zachariah studied Ashton’s scarred face, struggling to remember what he’d looked like before the attack. He had been handsome, he remembered, the kind of handsome that had made women and even some men stop and stare. Now, no one looked at him, except for Zachariah. He could still see the handsomeness in the other man’s features, in spite of the scars he now bore. Looking at Ashton and seeing the concern in his eye made Zachariah hesitant to tell him the bad news, but it was going to have to come out regardless. So he drew in a deep breath and glanced around to double-check that they were alone before he said, “I found a coven.”
Ashton stared at Zachariah for a few moments before shifting to take the pressure of kneeling off of his hip. “A…a coven,” he repeated. “You found a coven. An actual coven?”
“An honest-to-God, one hundred percent, fully established vampire coven,” Zachariah confirmed. “With at least one elder in place.”
“Where?”
Zachariah licked his lips as his nerves got the better of him. “In an abandoned apartment building less than two blocks from the Smithsonian’s main offices.”
Ashton reeled as if he’d been punched. “Are you sure it was a coven?”
“I was inside it,” he said. “I’m positive.”
Ashton shook his head. “Wait, you went into a vampire coven alone? What were you thinking? You could have been killed! Or worse, turned.”
Zachariah raised an eyebrow. “Wait, how is being turned into a vampire worse than death?”
Ashton stood and leaned over Zachariah. “Because if you get turned, I’ll have to be the one to kill you!” he shouted. “And I do not want and cannot have your blood on my hands!”
Zachariah drew in a breath and let it out before he replied. He dropped his hand on top of Ashton’s and squeezed as he spoke. “I’ll never make you do that,” he said before he let go. He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. “We’re going to have a problem, though.”
“What sort of problem?” Ashton sounded tired, resigned to deal with whatever Zachariah was about to throw at him.
“The elder tasted my blood,” Zachariah said. “She’s got my scent. She’s probably going to come after me.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because she let me go.”
Ashton let out a heavy breath and scrubbed a hand through his dark hair. “Got any ideas on what we should do about it?”
Zachariah sat back in his chair. “What if…what if we could flip it to our advantage? What if we could make it work for us, use it to wipe out an entire coven?”
Ashton wandered to his desk and stared at the black and white security monitors behind it. “I’m listening.”
“Okay,” Zachariah murmured. He had to choose his words carefully, because he knew that not only was Ashton not going to like the plan, he was going to get pissed that Zachariah was even suggesting it. Knowing that when he got pissed, Ashton threw things, Zachariah abandoned his desk chair and approached the other man’s desk. He stopped beside Ashton, leaning against the desk with his arms folded over his chest. Ashton wouldn’t look at him. Instead, he stared at the monitors with an intensity that stated he was trying his damnedest to ignore Zachariah and failing. That was so like Ashton, to act like he didn’t care when he cared more than any person in his line of work should have. He thought over his idea one more time, acknowledged how bad it was, and then forced himself to say it in a rush. “I think we should let me get turned.”
The muscle in Ashton’s jaw twitched, and he turned to look at Zachariah, his expression hard. “You think we should do what?”
“Let me get turned?” Zachariah repeated, trying to sound sure of his decision despite his lilting voice. As Ashton’s expression darkened, he rushed to add, “Look, look, I know it’s a bad idea—”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Ashton replied. He grabbed Zachariah’s upper arm and shoved him in the direction of his bedroom door, where they wouldn’t have to worry about being overheard. Zachariah stumbled, but the grip Ashton had on his arm kept him upright. “It’s the stupidest fucking idea I’ve ever heard in my life!”
“I’m just trying to think practically,” Zachariah said. Ashton kicked the bedroom door open. It banged against the wall beyond, and Ashton thrust him into the darkened room.
“Practically?” Ashton spat. “So it’s practical now to have a death wish?” He slammed the door, and Zachariah grabbed his wrist and squeezed.
“Stop slamming things. You’ll hurt yourself,” he ordered. Ashton snarled and wrenched his wrist free, then shoved him against the wall by the door. Zachariah’s head banged on the sheetrock, but he bottled down the pain. “Calm down, Ash! Think! You know the lore! You know how this goes,” he pleaded as Ashton glowered at him. “If an elder turns me, it’ll give us an in into the coven. And that will give us the chance to destroy it from the inside out. And if we kill the elder that turns me, then the lore says I’ll turn back.”
“But there’s no guarantee,” Ashton said. He gripped Zachariah’s biceps, his fingers digging into the muscles, his expression pained. It was then that Zachariah realized how much the idea had hurt the man. “There is no guarantee that that will actually work. We’ve never found anyone who had that happen to them. It’s just lore, stories, hearsay. I don’t know if I’m willing to risk you on rumors.”
“Well, we’ve got to stop them,” Zachariah said. He looked away from Ashton, studying the immaculate, militaristic neatness of the man’s bedroom. The bed was made, the sheets flat and tucked and folded how they should have been, the objects on the bedside table lined up precisely. The door leading to the attached bathroom stood open, and he was sure the bathroom was just as squared away. Ashton never left things out, not in his room, and not on his desk, which was a far cry from Zachariah’s apartment and desk—both of which looked like the aftermath of a paper bomb explosion. “You know we have to stop them,” he said as he turned his gaze onto Ashton. “You know that better than I do. And you know that this is probably the best chance we’re going to have to drop a real blow onto those sorry sons of bitches—”
“Stop,” Ashton interrupted in a sharp, cracking voice. “Just stop. Don’t say anymore. I can’t…I will not allow you to do this.” He loosened his grip on Zachariah’s arm and shook his head. “That aspect of the mission will not be sanctioned by The Unnaturals, and I won’t allow it. I swear to God, if I find out you willingly went to that elder and allowed it to turn you, I will kill you myself. I won’t like it, but I’ll do it. I promise you that.”
“I have no doubt about that,” Zachariah admitted. He shifted against the wall, lifting his arms and pressing his hands to Ashton’s chest, pushing him back so he could step away from the wall. Ashton let him do it, his lips pressed together as he waited for Zachariah to continue. “Look, Ash, it was just a suggestion. A really stupid one, now that I think about it,” he said. “That’ll make the Agency paint a target on my back, and that’s the
last thing I want. I love working too much, and I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize that. Especially not by doing something you won’t sanction.”
Ashton stared at him, his arms still crossed as if he were hugging himself. Then he sighed and shook his head, stepping back and dropping his arms. “Come in the bathroom,” he said. “Let’s get a look at your neck and get it properly bandaged like you should have let me do before the meeting.” He snorted. “Knowing your luck, you’ll be the first person on the planet to ever die from an infected vampire bite if we don’t do something about it.”
Zachariah chuckled and started to follow him into the bathroom. “What can I say? I like to be the first, and I have a lot of firsts under my belt.”
“Among other things,” Ashton said with a hint of a cheeky grin on his face.
Before Zachariah could reply, the familiar sound of gunfire broke the air. They froze, and Zachariah looked to Ashton, eyes wide. Ashton bowed his head as if he were trying to pinpoint the sound’s location. “Where is it?” Zachariah demanded.
“Right outside,” Ashton said. He limped to the bedroom door and flung it open. Zachariah followed him out, and they stopped in front of Ashton’s desk to examine the security monitors. Zachariah dismissed the ones that were either an interior view of the warehouse or an action-less street view. He spotted a monitor on the bottom row that showed something suspicious and jabbed his finger at it.
“There!” he said, recognizing the back of the building by his motorcycle parked in the edge of the frame. He went back to his desk and snatched the weapons he’d taken off before the meeting, starting to put them in their holsters and sheaths.
The Unnaturals (The Unnaturals Series Book 1) Page 12
