Chosen by Fate

by Virna DePaul

  She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and looked up. Caleb stood there, breathing hard, his face pale and sweaty. His mouth moved, but she couldn’t hear him. The side of her face felt like someone had splashed it with gasoline and lit it on fire. Her ears were ringing from the gun being fired so close to her head. She shook her head to let him know she couldn’t hear him, but almost immediately she felt her skin cooling. Her hearing corrected, but sounds were still fuzzy.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I’m fine.” Glaring down at the man, who even now was whimpering and crying as he clutched his arm, Wraith said, “Are you still more afraid of him than you are me? Because if that’s the case, I’d reconsider your options really fast. Who sent you?”

  He didn’t say anything, but Wraith narrowed her eyes and bent closer, whispering in his ear, “Did you know wraiths live their whole lives in pain? It gives us an advantage when it comes to administering it.”

  If possible, he paled even more.

  “Not both of you,” he said. “Just you. The ghost who left the Vamp Dome.”

  Again, Wraith thought of Joanna and Michel. But then a thought occurred to her. She grabbed the man by his shirt. “I wasn’t the only wraith at the Vamp Dome that night,” she said, immediately sensing the way Caleb stiffened.

  The man looked scared, then looked away. Panicked, she grabbed the man’s hair and yanked his head back so he whimpered.

  “Wraith . . .” Caleb said softly.

  “Did you hurt her?”

  “No . . . she and the man fought back. They killed one of my men.”

  So whoever had hired him had sent three men after her. He’d underestimated her. “How did you know she wasn’t the right one?”

  “She didn’t know how to fight. Only he did.”

  “Bastards,” Wraith spit out. “Did you hurt her? Did you?”

  “No. The guy with her . . . I told you, he could fight. He protected her.”

  Wraith released his hair. Good. She just might like Michel after all.

  “What were you looking for on the bike?” Caleb asked harshly.

  “We wanted to be sure we had the right one this time. We were looking for credentials. FBI badge—”

  Hissing, Wraith extracted her knife from its sheath and flipped it in her hand.

  “This is the last time I’m going to ask. Who sent you?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “I don’t believe you.” Wraith raised the knife, but Caleb grabbed her arm, stopping her.

  “Don’t, Wraith,” he warned.

  Her eyes widened with disbelief. “He was sent to get me. Do you think I’m going to let him live without telling me the truth about who sent him?”

  “He’s an idiot. Someone’s using him. Besides, he’s telling the truth. At least I think so. But I’ll confirm it.”

  She wrenched her arm away from him. “And how are you going to do that?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked up to the man who stared fearfully up at him. “What’s your name?”

  When he remained silent, Caleb sighed. “Look, in case you didn’t notice, I’m trying to save you some pain here. If you’d rather, I can let my friend loose and let her do whatever she wants to you.”

  “Doug,” the man said quickly.

  “Right. Doug. And your friend is Emmett.”

  Doug nodded frantically.

  “Emmett doesn’t know the name of the person giving you your orders,” Caleb said. “But I need to confirm you don’t know his name, either. So I’m going to lay my hands on you, and I don’t want you to move a muscle, otherwise my friend here is going to gut you with her not-so-little knife and I’m going to let her. Understand, Doug?”

  “Yes,” he squeaked out. “I understand.”

  “Good.” Caleb laid his hands on Doug’s temples. “Ask him again,” he said to Wraith. “And ask him what he knows about the feline situation and whatever else you need to know.”

  Unsure what was happening, Wraith hesitated, then asked, “Do you know the name of the person who ordered you to capture me?”

  “No,” Doug replied.

  Wraith proceeded to ask him more questions: “Do you know about felines being raped? About a drug being used to rape felines? Did you hurt the wraith you followed from the Dome or her male companion? How long have you been following me? When did you get your orders? Do you know who I am? Do you know who I was before I was a wraith?”

  Doug denied knowledge of the drug rapes or Wraith’s identity, and he denied hurting Joanna or Michel. He said he’d gotten the call about her just after Knox’s wedding. The message had been passed along anonymously, after he’d received five hundred dollars on his front stoop with the promise of five hundred more.

  “Five hundred dollars?” Wraith asked in disbelief. “For a total of one grand?” She glared at Doug. “I’m insulted.”

  “Ask the same questions again,” Caleb said.

  Wraith repeated the questions. Doug repeated the answers. This continued approximately ten times. In the meantime, Wraith watched Caleb. He’d closed his eyes and his body had relaxed. His breathing evened. His color returned to normal. He looked utterly at peace. More precisely, he looked zoned out. As if he’d left his body and gone someplace else.

  She didn’t like it. It scared her.

  “Caleb?” She prodded him for what had to be the fifth time.

  He didn’t answer.

  She grabbed his arm and shook him. “Caleb. Caleb!”

  Doug’s eyes were bouncing back and forth between them, and Wraith spared a glance for him when she sensed his muscles stiffen. “Don’t. Remember what he said about me and my knife.”

  He immediately looked down at the ground and remained still.

  “Caleb—” When she turned back to him, she gasped.

  His eyes were open. He was breathing hard. He released Doug and stepped back. “He’s telling the truth, Wraith. I promise. He’s told us everything he does know. He knows nothing about the feline situation. He and his friend are hired muscle. Sent to track you down and immobilize you. Killing you wasn’t on the program because whoever hired them knows you can’t be killed. But you can be contained, and that’s what he wanted. Now we need to go. Let the police deal with him.”

  It was only then that she heard the sirens wailing in the background, distant but getting closer. Caleb must have called them. She swallowed hard, trying to get over the shock of seeing Caleb go into some kind of truth detector trance. That hadn’t been in his files under the heading of “special gifts,” but she didn’t doubt he had the gift. If he said Doug was telling the truth, Wraith believed him.

  Caleb was watching her carefully, in particular the hand that held her knife. What, did he think she was still going to use it now that there was no reason to? Is that what he thought? That she killed because she liked it?

  With a flurry of questions beating at her and making her feel disoriented, she sheathed her knife, noting Caleb’s almost-imperceptible sigh of relief as she did so. Doug made one, too.

  They both pissed her off.

  She looked down at Doug and said, “Guess you’re going back to jail after all, Doug. Dream of me while you’re there, okay? And next time you talk to your boss, tell him I’m going to see him really soon.”

  FOURTEEN

  For Wraith, returning to Los Angeles was a lot like returning to prison after twenty years of incarceration followed by one short month on parole—equal parts depressing and comforting.

  She knew this town. Knew what to expect. How to maneuver. The best places to go to hide out. The few places she could go for help or a quiet moment of peace.

  Driving along Franklin Avenue made her feel like she’d returned home—only home was an insane asylum where she not only believed the other patients were trying to kill her, but that the medical staff was, too. Everyone was a threat as far as she was concerned.

  It was no wonder she jumped when Caleb gently pulled
on her jacket sleeve.

  “We’re here,” he said quietly.

  She nodded and opened her door to step onto the sidewalk outside their hotel. It was a step up from the rat-infested apartments she’d rented while she’d lived here, but it wasn’t exactly luxury living, either. “You’d think as a former boyfriend of the feline princess, you’d warrant enough clout to at least get us into an Embassy Suites,” she said nastily.

  Caleb pressed his lips together but didn’t reply.

  She didn’t blame him, but it still pissed her off.

  After their run-in with Doug and Emmett, she’d had tons of questions about Caleb’s ability to discern the truth and if he had other abilities she didn’t know about. But he’d shut down and hadn’t wanted to talk, no matter how often she’d tried to get a rise out of him. That had included making several nasty allusions to his former relationship with Natia, the feline he’d danced with at Knox’s wedding. Every time she acknowledged the existence of that previous relationship, however, she only ended up hurting herself.

  Absently, she wondered if that’s why she kept doing it.

  “Dex and Mahone are going to meet us at the Bureau’s local headquarters. I need to shower and get a meal first. How much time do you need?”

  “You know I don’t eat, Caleb. Are you implying I need to bathe?” she asked mildly. “Or was that an invitation to join you for either of those activities?”

  He tensed, stopped, then turned to face her. The expression on his face actually made her take a step back. “Careful, Wraith. It’s been a long day. Don’t push me unless you want me to push back.”

  She glanced away and swallowed hard. “I can leave in twenty.”

  “I’ll need closer to forty-five. Then we can share a cab—”

  “You know, why don’t I meet you there? I have some things to do. People to see.”

  “Would those things and people have anything to do with Ramsey Monroe?”

  She smiled thinly. “Heard about him already, have you? So I guess it was Mahone who wanted me to come back, and not you, after all?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that, Wraith?”

  “No. Do you really expect me to tell you who I’m going to see? Or is there some other reason behind the third degree? You obviously thought I was willing to kill old Doug in cold blood. Are you afraid I’m an accessory to the feline rapes somehow? That I’ll tip Ramsey off? Because—”

  He turned away. “Go. See who you want to see. Given the fact someone’s gunning for you, I’d feel better if you’d wait for me, but I have a feeling that doesn’t make a difference to you, now does it? And believe it or not, I don’t have the energy to argue right now.”

  The weariness in his voice made her frown. “Are you feeling okay? Maybe we should take more time before seeing Mahone. You can rest.”

  Facing her again, his brow quirked. “Worried about me?”

  She was. Very worried. Couldn’t he sense how worried she was? Apparently not. “Worried you’re going to get Lucy or me killed. You’re our backup, remember?”

  “The last thing I plan on doing is leaving you hanging. In any manner whatsoever.” With those enigmatic words, he strode into the hotel lobby, leaving her standing on the sidewalk to follow or not. She stood there for several undecided moments before catching the doorman’s eyes.

  Caleb made it seem like walking around L.A. was dangerous for her. What, did he think Doug and Emmett were the first individuals to hunt her down? Hell, she had plenty of enemies, and she’d always handled them alone. She couldn’t get used to relying on Caleb now. Didn’t he understand that?

  “I need to leave my bag before I check in. Can you take care of it?” She handed the bag to the doorman.

  “I can get you a claim ticket—”

  She shook her head as she walked away, still troubled by the exhaustion that had suddenly seemed to hang on Caleb, from the lines near his eyes to the slowness of his movements. That wasn’t natural for him. Usually he was so amped up with energy it made her, a creature who didn’t even need to sleep, tired. Was the change related to his death mark? Or maybe she was mistaking the weariness for something different altogether. Maybe he was simply tired of her. Tired of her needling him. Tired of her prickliness and bitchiness. Tired of her.

  Pressing her lips together, she shrugged before making a right on North Virgil.

  After retrieving a pack of her favorite cinnamon gum from her pocket, she popped a piece in her mouth. Then she put on her earphones and switched on her iPod. The tunes of Bob Marley immediately calmed her, and she jacked the volume up even more, knowing from experience that the blaring sound wouldn’t distract her from any potential threats. Soon, her strides lengthened, carrying her away from the human who made her long for things out of her reach and feel an emotion she tried so hard to keep away—regret.

  Whatever. If he was tired of her, maybe he’d leave her alone and let her get her head on straight. Finish this damn assignment and move on.

  As soon as she knew he was safe, that is.

  After all, he still bore that damn death mark, and she didn’t know what the hell that meant anymore. But she wasn’t leaving him until she figured out why the damn thing had appeared and how she could get rid of it.

  The contradictory nature of her thoughts had her cursing beneath her breath. Caleb had gotten under her skin just like the damn cat that she’d left with the waitress at the diner. The two of them had seemed happy enough when she’d checked on them, and the waitress had promised to take care of the cat. Wraith knew it wasn’t a promise the waitress intended to break, given Wraith’s threat to come back if she discovered otherwise. Still, it hadn’t been easy driving away from the kitten. She actually missed the comfort of stroking its soft fur.

  Again only wearing her leathers, she even missed the coziness of that damn poncho.

  She’d miss Caleb even more when he was gone.

  She walked a few more blocks until she reached her destination, an isolated area of town under a section of the 101 freeway. The littered streets were lined with auto repair shops, chain-link fences, and taxi cab companies. There were few trees. Nothing resembling a haven or sanctuary.

  She pocketed her earphones and stared at the structure to her right.

  The familiar brick building was still covered with grids of smoky glass windows. A large maroon awning directed visitors to a front entrance, but there were no signs identifying what they might find inside. From the outside, at least, nothing about the place had changed.

  Wraith walked up to the solid black door and yanked. Locked.

  She skirted around the building toward the back entrance, walking through a carpet of shrubs that clawed at her leathers. Sure enough, the back door was propped open and she could hear the rattling of dishes and the low murmur of voices from inside.

  For a moment, she hesitated, wondering how smart it was to go digging into a past she’d tried so hard to forget. But she was back in L.A. for a reason. She knew perfectly well her ties with this nightclub were why Mahone had sent Caleb after her. It was where the second feline rape victim had been attacked, and there was no way Ramsey would let something like that happen in his place without following up on it. So get your ass up there and talk to him, she told herself.

  Wraith strode toward the door and stopped just outside. Inside, several Hispanic men stopped washing dishes or prepping food to turn and look at her. By their wide-eyed gazes, it appeared Ramsey had decided inviting one dead chick into his establishment had been more than enough and hadn’t done so again. She wondered if he still had a thing for vamps.

  “Hola, señors,” Wraith said, her Spanish accent flawless. “Dónde está su jefe?”

  One of the men pointed to a set of interior swinging doors, and Wraith walked past them. “Gracias,” she drawled, grinning darkly when she caught the gaze of one of the men attach to her ass. She might be a freak, but she was sexy enough to warrant a second glance. Some things never changed.

>   When she pushed open the interior doors, Wraith whistled, impressed despite herself. Apparently, the club scene was doing right by Ramsey. The last time she’d been here, the cavernous interior had been respectable but streamlined. Nothing fancy. Now, the space was highly stylized. Ultramodern. Slick. It sported at least three levels, with travertine floors and glass railings, dark wood, stainless steel, halogen lighting, and plush velvet accents.

  Wraith slowly walked the floor. There were two bars, each with a black granite top that reflected the mirror of glasses overhead. Several doors peppered three long corridors, opening to spacious, soundproof rooms where private business could be conducted if that’s what someone had in mind.

  All in all, very upscale. Classy.

  But it still smelled the same. The rank odor of cigarette smoke and lingering sweat—even blood—made Wraith’s stomach turn.

  “Well, well. Do my eyes deceive me, or am I being visited by a ghost? The Ghost of Christmas Past, here to show me the error of my ways? Or perhaps a ghost who’s learned from her own mistakes and decided to come crawling back where she belongs?”

  Stiffening, Wraith slowly turned. She smiled at the were standing several feet away from her, but didn’t move to embrace him the way she instinctively wanted to. “Crawling, Ramsey?” She pressed her lips into a pout. “I thought you knew me better than that.”

  “Ah, that’s right.” He leaned casually against one of the bars. “Crawling wasn’t your thing. Usually you were immobile when you were on all fours—isn’t that right, Wraith?”

  His soft, taunting words immediately made her want to bash his face in. But even worse, a part of her instantly pictured her in the position he described and felt a hint—the barest hint—of longing. It was pathetic, she knew, but she chalked it up to a Pavlovian response. If Caleb O’Flare tempted her with pleasure, Ramsey Monroe would always be the male who tempted her with pain.