by L. D. Rose
Dissociative amnesia at its finest.
“You’re at my . . . uh, friend’s house,” Valerie fumbled, trying to regain her grasp on the situation, but it was hard when the product of a miracle sat right in front of her. “A friend of mine. Don’t worry, you’re safe here.”
“I don’t remember what happened.” Bianca seemed utterly lost. “I just remember you picking me up. And being in a car. And moving.”
Valerie’s heart slid into her stomach. Soon Bianca would remember everything, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. “Everything’s all right now.” She sat beside the girl and took her hand, once bloody and wounded, now clean and healed. Apparently Kasen had made it a point to wipe away the blood from Bianca’s exposed skin.
Which meant she probably still had blood on the unexposed areas.
“C’mon, let’s get you in the shower and cleaned up.” Valerie squeezed Bianca’s hand and gave her a warm smile, even though she felt cold inside. “Then we’ll get you out of here.”
As to where, Valerie hadn’t a clue. Bianca couldn’t go back to her apartment in the Bronx. For all Valerie knew, Bianca’s apartment was where she’d been seized. That place was no longer secure. Nowhere in the city would be safe, not as long as Cyrus and his cronies were alive.
Valerie would figure something out. She had to.
She helped Bianca wash up in the guestroom’s adjacent bathroom, keeping the girl’s focus on their conversation so her mind wouldn’t stray. Valerie asked her about her family with the intent of finding out where they were and if they were available. Avoiding mirrors as she helped Bianca undress, thankfully the warm water washed away most of the blood and dirt before Bianca noticed.
When Bianca revealed she had family nearby, her mother and two sisters just north of the city in Ossining, Valerie knew it would be a perfect place for her to stay for the time being.
A clean pair of sweatpants, flip-flops, and a T-shirt rested on the guestroom’s dresser, Veronica’s clothes set out for Bianca. It seemed like hours before Valerie and Bianca finally left the guestroom and headed for the living room. Bianca was still a bit confused, but she trusted Valerie’s lead, following her without question.
Blaze’s voice rumbled like soft thunder from the living room. He’d made it back, safe and sound.
Relief flooded Valerie, her body relaxing from its underlying stress. Which made her all too aware of the sudden tension in Bianca’s body.
The girl abruptly stopped in the hallway, her hands beginning a low-grade tremor. Oh no, not now. Valerie laid a hand on her shoulder, leaning into her ear as she pulled back the dark curtain of Bianca’s damp, citrus-scented hair.
“It’s all right, Bianca, he’s a friend. He’s my friend.”
Bianca turned to face her, eyes glistening. “He’s your friend?”
“Now he is,” Valerie said, throat tight. God, she was going to kill that bastard Cyrus if it was the last thing she did. “Blaze isn’t a bad guy. He never hurt Elena and he would never hurt you. I promise.”
Bianca hesitated, clearly scared and uncertain, but she assented. “Okay.”
Valerie gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before they entered the room. Everyone looked up, including Blaze, who now wore a white tank top that was a little small for him, caging the ink on his chest.
Blaze went still while both Kasen and Veronica smiled at them. Veronica gave Bianca a warm, “Hello,” in an attempt to cut the tension in the air. Bianca stared at Kasen as if she recognized him, then her attention shifted to Blaze and she seemed to freeze in place. Valerie kept her hand on Bianca’s shoulder in support.
“We’re ready to go whenever you are,” Valerie said to Blaze. He didn’t react at first, guarding his emotions as usual, then he nodded.
She turned to Kasen and Veronica. “And thank you.” Her eyes settled on Kasen, the hybrid, the miracle worker. “I can’t thank you enough.”
Kasen inclined his head graciously.
“Anytime, Val,” Veronica added, her look kind, as Valerie had always remembered it to be. “We’re here whenever you need us. You know that.”
Valerie nodded before she gently urged Bianca forward. The girl continued to eye Blaze as he stood and opened the front door. His gloved hand swallowed the doorknob as he motioned for them to go first.
Bianca looked over her shoulder, back at Veronica and Kasen. The couple now stood, Kasen’s arm wrapped around Veronica’s waist. “Thank you,” Bianca murmured. The couple both smiled, exchanging glances.
“You’re very welcome,” Kasen replied. “Take care of yourself, Bianca.”
They stepped outside to find a white Cadillac CTS parked out front. Late-afternoon clouds had started rolling in. The humid air smelled of ozone, thick with the possibility of rain and thunder. Valerie guided Bianca down the front steps and onto the bluestone path while Blaze shut the door behind them.
Valerie spared a glance back at the house, a beautiful, cozy cottage in Riverdale. She would’ve never guessed the basement was outfitted with a state-of-the-art emergency room, made for the vampire victims brought in by the hybrids, and for the hybrids themselves.
It was amazing, really. This group, this Order of the Senary, had an entire underground operation that had been running for years and somehow managed to stay below the frequency of the public’s radar.
Well, for the most part.
“Is this Kasen’s car?” Valerie asked as Blaze disarmed the Cadillac and opened the backseat door.
“Yeah. Kasen is keeping the Mustang until everything blows over.”
Valerie eyed the driveway to find the Mustang already covered with a black tarp. At least someone was thinking.
She directed Bianca to the backseat, but Bianca latched on to her wrist. Her eyes were wide again, frightened, their expression a plea for Valerie to stay in the backseat with her.
Valerie looked at Blaze and he nodded tightly. She couldn’t imagine how he must’ve felt, having saved a girl who still feared him like the monsters who’d hurt her. Valerie reached out and touched his arm briefly in a gesture of understanding, but he only watched silently as they both climbed into the backseat.
He jumped behind the wheel and started the car. Low music started to play, some Dave Matthews song. Valerie could only see Blaze’s sunglasses and cheekbones as he looked back at them through the rearview mirror.
“Where to?”
“Ossining. You know where that is?”
He nodded and pulled out onto the street. Valerie relaxed a little, sinking back into the camel-colored leather. Bianca still held Valerie’s wrist, but she’d loosened her grip, and eventually let go.
They rode in silence, with Dave Matthews crooning about how funny the way life was. After about fifteen minutes, Bianca began to tremble with an impending storm of tears. And this wouldn’t be just any storm—this was a category five hurricane.
Rain fell on the Cadillac, water droplets committing suicide against the windshield, and Blaze turned on the wipers to clear them away. A sob escaped Bianca’s throat, thick and saturated with despair. Tears fell from her dark lashes, like the rain outside onto the world around them.
Valerie slid across the backseat and wrapped an arm around her. Bianca’s sobs worsened at the gesture, tears falling faster in time with the rain, and she finally surrendered. All Valerie could do was offer comfort as Bianca shook against her shoulder, like a child who’d lost her innocence far too soon. Valerie didn’t murmur soothing words or whisper reassurances, for there was nothing she could say that would make any of it right. She simply held Bianca and let her release her anguish, what she needed most.
Meeting Blaze’s eyes in the rearview mirror, their intensity tangible behind his dark lenses, something passed between them. She wasn’t sure what and didn’t care to delve into it, whether
it was shared resolve, vengeance, hope, or something deeper and more powerful than she could describe.
She just knew she’d never felt anything more right in her entire life.
TWELVE
Blaze leaned against the front windowpane of a Portuguese restaurant, smoking his umpteenth cigarette. The summer rainstorm had quickly come and gone, leaving the air thick, damp, and humid. The smell of spicy chourico and peppers wafted into his nostrils, making his stomach growl. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.
He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had blood either.
Many different flavors of people walked by, most sparing him a glance before looking away. Some women smiled and said, “Hello,” while some men stared him down as if his mere existence were some kind of insult. He stared back at them evenly, sucking smoke and contaminating their air.
Shit, if they kept this up, maybe he’d feed sooner than he thought.
No. He pushed the rogue thought away. He hadn’t had a vein in years. He only fed from the bagged stuff now and that was the way it should be. It was the leech inside him talking, and it loved to talk when he felt low. Not so long ago, it had done all the talking, but no more.
Although lately he’d done his share of listening.
Valerie emerged from an industrial gray door across the street, next to a rundown Laundromat. Bianca’s mother lived in an apartment on the second floor. Valerie scanned for him, shielding her eyes from the descending sun with her hands. He lifted his pinky fingers to his mouth and whistled. Her attention snapped toward him as he signaled her over.
He exhaled the smoke burning in his lungs and dropped the butt on the ground, even though it was only half-finished. He stepped on it, picked it up, and tossed it into a nearby iron-encased trashcan.
There would be no smoking around her anymore.
“Hey.” She managed a weary smile as she stepped onto the curb.
Blaze rested against the windowpane and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “How’d it go?”
“Well, her family was definitely happy to see her, safe and sound. They just asked a lot of questions I couldn’t answer.” Valerie frowned. “But she’ll be safe here. Or at least I hope.”
“She will.” He’d already touched base with a couple of bounty hunters in the area. Bianca would be safe. He’d made sure of it.
Valerie simply nodded as Blaze studied her from behind his shades. She didn’t question him like she always did, a sign she was either beginning to trust him or she was just too tired to ask. “How’re you doing?”
Her weary smile returned. “I’m fine. You know, it’s just . . . the way it is, I guess.”
He nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. He pushed off the wall, motioning to the Caddy. “Let’s get you home then.”
To his surprise, she didn’t object. She simply followed him to the car and climbed inside without a word. She didn’t speak again until they were on the road, back on the Sprain Brook Parkway, heading toward the Bronx.
“Did you find anything in Harlem?”
He settled back in his seat and turned on the air-conditioning. “All I found in Harlem was a fucked-up train station.”
Except for the hair-raising feeling of being watched, he had nothing. The place had been deserted. No lingering scents, no traces of humanity, no evidence of vampires, nothing. If Cyrus had been watching, it was from afar, in whatever black hole he hid in.
Tristan wouldn’t have given up anything legitimate on Cyrus, no matter what Blaze had done to him. That bastard had always been loyal to his sire. It didn’t matter anyway; the information wasn’t the reason why Blaze had tortured him. It had been a bonus, however useless it was now.
“Damn,” Valerie murmured and looked away, out the passenger side window.
Blaze glanced at her, sensing her disappointment. He wondered how many times she’d been let down before, how many cases she’d lost, how many deaths had gone unresolved. Too many, he’d bet.
“Cyrus used to have a hideout underground,” Blaze offered hesitantly, switching into the high-speed lane. “I doubt he’d go there again, but I can always take a look.”
“Underground? Where?”
“Grand Central.” Memories fought their way to the surface, but he kept them at bay, focusing on the road.
“Grand Central? How? It’s completely destroyed.”
“The tunnels and platforms are still preserved. Cyrus gained access to them and took his nest down there a while back. He was there for at least a year. Maybe two.”
Valerie turned toward him, giving him her full attention. “How do you know this?”
Blaze shifted uncomfortably, his heart pounding. He stared straight ahead, unable to look at her, and set his jaw. “Because I was down there with him.”
She stilled. 3 Doors Down sang quietly in the background as the Caddy hummed along the Bronx River Parkway. A fist clenched around Blaze’s stomach, his muscles tense as iron, encasing the trashcan of his guts. He was dying for nicotine, anything to calm him down. He turned up the AC instead, still unable to look at her in fear of what he’d see. Dark voices of the past whispered in the back of his mind, pushing against the recesses of his skull.
“You were a prisoner?” she finally said, the words cautious, low.
A morbid urge to laugh bubbled up inside him. “That’s putting it nicely.”
“When did this happen?”
“Five years ago.” Five years, three months, and twenty-four days.
“How did you get away?” Her tone became soft, gentle. He couldn’t decide if he liked it or hated it.
“Dax . . .” he trailed off, his voice failing him, sucked into the back of his throat. Then, without warning, Valerie cupped her hand over his, where he tightly gripped the gearshift. He glanced down at it, her small, smooth, feminine hand atop his big, scarred, leather-bound fist. He wished he could feel it.
Wished he could feel anything.
Blaze cleared his throat, resettling himself. Her touch balanced him somehow, infused a little more courage into him. “Dax found me. Cyrus vanished. I’ve been hunting him down since. Now he’s back for me, I know he is. The messages, the murders, all of it—he’s out for my blood. All of this is because of me.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“The longer he’s out there, the more people will die,” he pointed out. “I know my brothers can take care of themselves, but it’s everyone else. People like Bianca, like Homes, Elena. And you.”
Her hand fell away from his. He glanced at her. She stared at him intently, if a bit indignantly. He pictured her green eyes flashing, maybe darker, maybe brighter. He’d guess brighter. “I chose to be part of this, Blaze.”
“But you don’t have to—”
“But I want to. What, you think I’m just going to cower in a corner and hide until all of this passes? Hell no. You should know me better than that by now. You think I’m going to let you do this alone?”
“I have my brothers.”
“I know your brothers have your back, but they’ve got the rest of the city to protect, too. I want to be part of this. And no offense, you’re not getting rid of me, whether you like it or not.”
His lips twitched. She noticed and responded with a slow grin. “Unless you sic Rome on me. Apparently his scrubbing is quite efficient.”
“Well now, come to think of it, I just might.”
Valerie whacked his arm. “You better not! I’ll hunt you down and arrest you. Again.”
He laughed, unable to help himself, the phantoms receding into the black swamp of his past. “How will you if you won’t remember me?”
Her smile faltered. “I don’t know, Blaze. You’re hard to forget.”
“It’s the tattoos, isn’t it?”
She chuckled. “No. It’s not that.”
He met her gaze, feeling that curious tightening in his chest again. “Well, you have the option.”
She tilted her head with narrowed eyes. “You’re serious?”
He nodded. “If you want to forget it all, forget everything that happened, you can. All you have to do is ask.”
She looked away, back out the window. “Would you prefer I forget?”
“No. I mean, I just want to leave it open. It usually isn’t an option for most, but it is for you.”
“Well, you can close it. I have no desire to be scrubbed,” she bristled. “I don’t want to forget what happened to Elena, or Homes, or Bianca. I want to know that goddamn monster Cyrus is out there and I want to find him. And I don’t want to forget you.”
He glanced at her with raised eyebrows. His lips curved at how she kept her eyes locked on the window, her cheeks glowing like miniature suns. Softly, she added, “Or your brother Kasen, or VK. Besides, I’d like to keep my mind intact, thank you very much.” She lifted her chin, sweet and defiant.
Blaze chuckled, turning his attention back on the road, cruising into Marble Hill. He circled around her block once before he pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex, sliding into a visitor’s spot.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” he offered as they got out of the car.
“I never took you to be the chivalrous type,” she quipped.
“I like to try new things.” They walked up the brick side path, moving past the sliding glass doors of her apartment and the lone bench outside of it. The shades were drawn and nothing seemed out of place. The sun hovered over the horizon, turning everything a warm red-orange. Sunset, his favorite time of day.
