Harlequin Nocturne January 2014 Bundle: The Vampire HunterMoon Rising

by Michele Hauf

  Chapter 19

  The alpha and his minions had been gone ten minutes. CeCe had done little besides stare at Marc since. His eyes closed, he waited for her to decide her next move.

  She stepped closer. She knelt and ran her hands over his body, over the chains. He opened his eyes; she was watching him.

  “The pack is my world,” she murmured...apologized.

  She’d decided, then. He kept his eyes closed.

  “Without them, I’m nothing.”

  He opened his eyes again. The statement was absurd. He couldn’t believe she believed it, but he could see by the stress pulling at her face that she did. He rolled his eyes upward and stared at the ceiling.

  He was in no position to play counselor.

  Her fingers slid under the chains across his chest. He glanced down, not knowing what to expect. She found the lock the werewolves had used to secure the chain and jiggled it. When it didn’t give, she changed tactics and tugged on the chain.

  The metal links pulled tight across his back and dug into his shoulder blades. Her lips formed a line and she pulled harder, managed to pull the loops an inch, maybe three, away from his body.

  “Hold still.”

  She cursed and gripped the chain tighter. Her knuckles white, she jerked again. After a second, she rolled back onto her heels.

  “I can’t get it loose enough. I thought with slack I could get it over your head.” She was mumbling, more to herself than him. Aware of that, he didn’t try to reply. Not that his reply would have been understood. Not with the chain still gagging his mouth.

  “There must be something we can do. Try to get on your knees.” She rolled him onto his stomach. He wormed his way to his knees. The process was awkward and uncomfortable, and under other circumstances, when his life wasn’t at risk, would have been embarrassing.

  “Now the bed.” She grabbed the chain from behind and used it as a handle to help him stand. Soon, he was facedown on the bed. He rolled over and she pulled him to his feet.

  Upright, but still draped in chain. He couldn’t fight; he couldn’t run. The entire exercise felt worthless.

  He growled.

  She ran her fingers through her hair and scanned the room. Her gaze stopped on the bed, on the stake.

  She slipped on the leather glove the alpha had worn when handling the stake and picked up the weapon. Then she kneeled at his feet and looked up. “Don’t move.”

  She positioned the stake, then struck the head with the mallet. With the first hit, he felt the chain loosen. With the third the iron gave and the garlic-laced restraints clattered to the ground.

  He spit out the strand that had been shoved into his mouth.

  CeCe rose to stand beside him, the stake in hand. The weapon that had almost been the instrument of his death was instead the instrument of his release.

  He held out his hand to take it.

  “What now?” she asked.

  He rolled the stake so the broken vampire symbol was on the top and ran his thumb over it. A chill raced through him, a cloying chill, the kind you couldn’t shake off. No, he decided, fighting off the need to drop the thing, the feeling was worse than a chill...it was empty and hollow...a lack of feeling, but then the feeling shifted. Elation shot through him.

  It was death and power. He was strong...invincible. He wanted to prove it, wanted to kill...

  He looked up, at CeCe.

  Her eyes widened. She slapped his hand...sent the stake sailing across the room.

  Marc felt as if he’d been sucker punched. He gasped and bent at the waist.

  “What?” CeCe placed her gloved hand on his back. “What happened?” Her voice was edged with panic.

  She’d seen...

  “It was designed to destroy us.” The words were difficult to get out. He wanted to lunge across the room and grab the stake, wanted to touch it, to own it, to master it. But the feeling wasn’t normal, wasn’t right.

  He couldn’t look at CeCe, not yet. For a moment, he had wanted to kill her, destroy her, see her blood coating the stake. He couldn’t face her yet; couldn’t stand to realize that the thoughts had gone through his mind.

  “The vampires?” she asked.

  “No.” He shook his head. “All of us, the werewolves and the vampires.”

  “But it saved you.”

  “You saved me. The stake wanted to use me.” He closed his eyes and stood. He felt shaky and drained...dirty.

  “You haven’t touched it, have you? With your bare hand?”

  She shook her head. “It was in Russell’s chest when I found him. I pulled it out, but with a cloth.”

  “Don’t.” It was all he could say, all he could think.

  They stared at the stake as if a viper had just entered the room.

  Finally, CeCe spoke. “What do we do with it?”

  They couldn’t leave it behind, couldn’t risk another vampire or werewolf finding it.

  “It needs to be destroyed.” He pulled his gaze away from the glistening silver. He still longed to touch it. He curled his fingers into a fist. He understood now why the werewolves feared it.

  “The stake pushed someone to kill Russell, didn’t it?” CeCe asked.

  “Yes.” After holding the thing, feeling the swell of need it created, the need to kill, Marc understood what had driven the killer—far better than he liked. “What we don’t know is where it came from.”

  “Did Russell or the killer bring it?” CeCe added.

  “And why was it left behind? If you hadn’t knocked it from my hand, I don’t know if I could have let it go.” He clinched his jaw.

  She ran her fingers down his arm, light and gentle. “I don’t believe that.”

  “You don’t believe I would have killed you?”

  “No.”

  Trust, pure and clear, shone from her eyes.

  Marc relaxed. He believed it too...but still the desire had been strong, nearly impossible to fight. If he hadn’t known CeCe...loved CeCe.

  He faced the word. He loved her.

  “We have a...connection. If we didn’t...” He glanced at the stake.

  “You’d have killed me.” Flat truth. It didn’t seem to bother her, not as it bothered Marc. “You’ve said whoever killed Russell knew him.”

  “I still think they did. They just didn’t―” he stopped himself from saying the word “―care enough to overcome the stake.”

  “But maybe that’s why it was left behind. Maybe the killer cared enough to run when they realized what they had done.”

  “Maybe.” It made sense. Because while a part of Marc wanted to hold the stake again, a bigger part of him was repulsed by it and what it had tried to make him do.

  They took the stake with them when they left. Not wanting to touch it, Marc had watched as CeCe wrapped it in a cloth and tucked it into a bag that she slung over her shoulder.

  While she was doing that, he had grabbed his laptop. He had no time to check in with the Fringe now, but as soon as he could establish an internet connection he would. He needed to find out what was going on, who had sent the vampire he’d left on that rooftop and why.

  He was afraid, however, he already knew. Russell’s killer knew the power of the stake, but who else did? Who else might be out there hunting it? And how far would they go to get it?

  * * *

  Marc didn’t bother locking the door behind them when they left the motel. There was nothing of value inside, and odds were good that he wouldn’t be coming back.

  CeCe had slung the bag containing the stake over her shoulder. She ran her hand up and down the cord. “I have a car at my hotel. You can use it.”

  “Me?”

  “It’s old and not worth much, but it should get you away from here.
I’ll tell Karl...something.”

  It was dark now, had been for a half an hour. As was typical of Cave Vista after dark, the street was quiet. Maybe a hundred yards away, a dog sniffed around a car, but there was no other sign of life.

  She stepped off the curb and headed toward an abandoned side street.

  Marc grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. “I’m not leaving. Not until we figure out how to destroy that.” He pointed to the bag. And he wasn’t leaving without CeCe.

  She shook her head. “I found it—I brought it back here. I’ll figure out how to get rid of it. You need to leave. If Karl discovers you’ve escaped—”

  “Your alpha will have to catch me to kill me. Besides, this is what I do.” He shoved his sleeve up so his tattoo was fully visible. “You want to know what this is?”

  CeCe’s lips parted.

  “I’m a regulator, part of a group of regulators. If my guess is right, that vampire you killed isn’t alone. There will be more, all searching for that.” Again he looked at the bag. “I’m not leaving until it’s destroyed or put far out of any werewolf’s or vampire’s reach for good.” He understood now the drive of the vampire Van Bom had told him about, the vampire who had taken the stake and disappeared. Perhaps he had been the hero of the story, not the villain as Van Bom believed.

  “But Karl, the pack...they will...”

  “This isn’t a werewolf problem.” Not solely.

  He lifted his laptop case. “I need to check in, and do some research, see if I can find anything that tells us how we might destroy that thing. There’s a coffee shop down there.” He gestured to a building not far from where he’d seen the dog. “They have Wi-Fi. With any luck it’s an open connection and strong enough I can tap in from the alley. I’ll see what I can learn, then we can decide what to do next.”

  He left CeCe standing in the street, knowing that if he did make contact with the Fringe and a contingent was dispatched to Cave Vista, he would have to send her back to her pack.

  There wasn’t a single member of the Fringe who would understand, tolerate even, what he and CeCe had between them. Sending her to her pack would be his only choice.

  * * *

  As Marc walked off, CeCe wandered farther down the street. Marc’s motel was in a sparsely populated part of the town, not that any part of Cave Vista was booming.

  She stared into the window of what had once been a souvenir shop, but now seemed to be a storage area for some kind of junk store. Or maybe it was a junk store. It was hard to tell.

  She pressed her hand against the glass and leaned closer, trying to decide for no good reason what the business actually was.

  From above her there was a noise, a rock or nut skittering across the flat asphalt roof.

  The junk shop forgotten, she stepped backward, out into the street.

  Standing on the roof, silhouetted against the moon, was a man. He raised his arms and moved to the edge. Then he smiled. Silver fangs shone from his white face.

  A vampire.

  And based on his choice of dental work, not one friendly with werewolves.

  Her wolf growled and moved forward, but CeCe kept her at bay. The opportunity to talk would be lost with a shift, and this vampire might know something she and Marc could use. She had killed one vampire in human form; she had to believe she could kill another.

  The vampire walked to the edge of the roof and kept walking. Without pausing his steps, he dropped down in front of her like a spider on a strand of web, slow and controlled, his arms extended and a fang-revealing smile on his face. “Where’s the stake, wolf? We checked your room, checked the other wolves we’ve found and left...but we haven’t checked you. Not yet.”

  Other wolves. Karl. Robert and Logan. Were they safe? Dead, drained, like Russell and Neil?

  She stepped to the side and let the bag that held the stake slip down her arm, until the cords were in her hand. “I wouldn’t think vampires would be fond of stakes,” she replied.

  He laughed. “No, but they can be useful, and I’ve come for the one you have.”

  “Why?” And how had he known about it? Even Marc hadn’t known she had it, not until a few minutes earlier.

  She let the bag sway as she spoke, tested its weight and estimated her aim. She needed to be closer, but if she moved, the vampire would attack. She had to be certain she was ready, and she had to get as much information as she could first.

  The vampire prowled to the side, circling her like a lion waiting to pounce. “Is that it? There in the bag? Give it to me and perhaps I’ll let you live. Perhaps I won’t drain you completely.” He smiled again; she couldn’t miss the flash of silver covering his teeth.

  He was getting too close.

  “That is a tempting offer,” she murmured, then she sprang forward, whirling the bag as she moved. The vampire moved too, but she was ready. She smashed him in the face with the bag. His fangs caught in the material, slicing it. The stake fell to the ground. Barehanded, CeCe grabbed the weapon. Her hand wrapped around the leather-covered hilt, and her thumb brushed the silver. A shock shot through her, reverberated along her bones. She held on.

  “You look comfortable with that, wolf. Too comfortable.”

  The vampire was right. As CeCe held the stake, energy snaked around her wrist, seemed to hold the weapon in place. She didn’t know that she could have dropped the stake if she had wanted to, but for now she had no desire to be free of the weapon.

  She lunged. Her arm swung up and down, striking at the vampire. He dropped and hissed. One of his silver caps fell to the ground. CeCe danced forward and smashed it under her shoe, then just as quickly dashed back.

  She smiled. With the stake, she had the upper hand. She was strong, stronger than a thousand vampires. She could kill this one. She would kill him, for no other reason than to rid the earth of one more of the parasites.

  Parasites. The word her mind had pulled out shocked her.

  Marc was a vampire. She didn’t think of him as a parasite...a monster.

  Her hand trembled, the stake shook. She gritted her teeth, tried to organize her thoughts, separate fighting this one vampire that had attacked her from hating all vampires.

  But she couldn’t; her concentration wouldn’t hold. She would think of Marc, then her hand would burn, itch with the need to taste vampire blood.

  She stared down at the stake, horrified. Marc and Karl had both told her not to touch it with her skin and now she knew why.

  The stake wanted this death, wanted the death of all vampires.

  And werewolves too.

  It wasn’t just the symbol for the vampires that was incised on its side. The sign for werewolf was too.

  The stake was working with her now, helping her, but it could just as easily turn, perhaps even urge her to use the thing against herself.

  The vampire, seeing her indecision, rushed forward. Afraid now of both the stake and the vampire, CeCe swung with her unarmed hand. She caught the vampire in the mouth.

  Silver sliced her skin. She flinched and jerked back. A jagged line of blood marked the silver cap’s path down her arm. The sick feeling that always accompanied any touch of silver wound through her.

  She swallowed, tried to force back nausea and sudden lethargy.

  “First taste,” the vampire whispered. Her blood streaked across his cheek. He ran his finger through it, then sucked the digit clean. “Wolf. I’ve never tasted it before. I want more.”

  And the stake did too. Her palm sweated and her hand shook. Energy fed by hate flowed into her; the nausea disappeared. The lethargy did too.

  She stood frozen, confused and torn. There was no doubt this vampire meant to kill her, no doubt he had zero reservations about her death. A week ago she would have felt the same about him.

  But the stake cha
nged that, knowing it wanted her to make this kill, knowing it was screwing with her mind, made her reluctant to do what any other wolf in her situation would, what any rational being in her situation would.

  She was tired of being controlled by what others and now this thing wanted of her.

  “Give it to me,” the vampire demanded again. For a second she considered it. For a second she wanted nothing more than to rid herself of the hideous weapon, but as her fingers loosened, as she imagined handing the stake to the vampire, a new realization hit her.

  If touching the tool with her bare hand did this to her, filled her with hate and the desire to destroy, it would do the same to the vampire.

  And he would have zero qualms about using the weapon against her, against all werewolves.

  She had to stop him, but she couldn’t do it with the stake, not the way the stake wanted her to.

  For her new plan to work, she would have to be strong and she would have to be quick.

  She sucked in a breath and tossed the tool in the air. She caught the stake by its wedged silver end. Then before she could think again, before the magic or curse of the stake could put more thoughts into her mind, she jumped forward and rammed the weapon’s butt into the vampire’s temple.

  He staggered, and she lunged again, struck again.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close. Sank his now unadorned fangs into her neck. A cry escaped her lips, but she didn’t let the pain stop her. She slammed the stake into his temple again and again, continued until her arm ached and she knew she had lost. Knew if she wanted to live, she had no choice but to let the stake have what it wanted, to let it taste blood.

  Chapter 20

  Marc strode into the dark. The buildings blocked the moon’s light, and the alley was quiet—peaceful with no sign of life, not even the dog Marc had seen earlier.

  Dark and quiet, a vampire’s dream. He felt his body and mind relax.

  Feeling more under control, he found a deserted box and flipped it over to use as a makeshift desk, and then he turned on his computer.

  As he had guessed, the coffee shop’s wireless was available here, and they hadn’t bothered to turn it off for the night. He logged in to his internet call service.