Releasing the Demons (The Order of the Senary)

by L. D. Rose

  “I’ve done it before, haven’t I?” His tone was hard, no longer teasing, his words carrying a ton of weight. “I’m going with you, man, whether you like it or not.” He turned his intense blue eyes on her. “Right, Detective?”

  Valerie nodded. “Right.”

  Blaze’s jaw clenched as he looked between the two of them. He didn’t object but he sure as hell wasn’t happy.

  Too damn bad, lover.

  “Do you even have access to the tunnels?” Shaul inquired. Valerie had forgotten he was there.

  “I have a few leads,” Blaze replied. “But if they don’t work, I’ll make my own access.”

  “All right.” Rome pushed off the table and straightened. “Blaze and JJ will head into Grand Central, Dax and Valerie will secure the perimeter around 42nd and Park.”

  “I’ll stand by with them,” Kasen volunteered, ignoring a sharp glare from Blaze. “Just in case.”

  Rome nodded. “Dax, Blaze, both of you need to relay everything you remember about the terminal to JJ and be sure to memorize the layout. Last thing I want is for any of you to get lost down there. Kaj, Shaul, and I will serve as backup and we’ll pick up the slack in the sweeps tonight. Everyone clear?”

  They all made various sounds and gestures of agreement.

  “Good. We’ll muster at nightfall before we move out.” Rome glanced at Jon before leveling his intense regard on Blaze. “I want a battle plan by sunset. You’re not going in there like fucking Rambo, you got me? Both of you better come out alive with that leech between your teeth.”

  Valerie looked on with a growing sense of awe as Rome stood there, looking like he’d just rolled out of bed, but he dominated the room like a four star general in a war zone. She could see it in his face—in his freaking goat eyes—that he cared about Blaze immensely. It was on all of their faces, including Jon’s. Sure, they had these crazy abilities, these so-called ‘traits,’ but they were acutely aware of their own mortality. Every day they put themselves in danger could very well be their last.

  And though it scared the crap out of her, Valerie would have to accept it because it was who Blaze was, who they all were.

  Hell, it’s who I am, too.

  “Good.” Rome inclined his head, end of conversation. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

  Blaze stood in front of the bathroom mirror, smearing shaving cream on his face. Pieces of hair stuck to his skin from buzzing his head, making him itchy all over. His temples throbbed from nicotine withdrawal and he was dying for a cigarette. If he didn’t shower and smoke a butt soon, his mood would end up in the toilet.

  Not that it wasn’t already.

  Valerie perched on the bathroom counter beside him, hugging a knee to her chest. She’d been watching him silently for the past twenty minutes. Before that, she’d explored his suite, which was a disaster, but she claimed to love it anyway. The layout looked nearly identical to Shaul’s except with a bit more life to it, done in browns and reds from what Blaze understood. Now he let her stew silently, knowing she’d been overwhelmed with information and with meeting his brothers, especially all at once. Not to mention JJ and his new vampire skin.

  Shit, Blaze had been overwhelmed too. The idea that a vampire could ‘steal’ his trait was disturbing, but worse was Cyrus, harvesting Blaze’s blood while torturing him for seven months. Of course, Blaze had been aware Cyrus and his cronies were feeding off him. After all, they’d made it a spectator sport. But he had no idea his blood would be used as a weapon. They’d framed him for Elena’s death, murdering her with the very element that fueled him.

  Fucking bastards.

  Anger flared to the surface as Blaze ground his molars, rinsing his hands off and filling the sink. This mess was getting nastier and nastier by the second. Vampires daywalking, blowing shit up, burning shit down, raising hell on earth and pissing him right the fuck off.

  “Who is he?” Valerie suddenly asked, probably feeling the heat emitting from him like a nuclear reactor.

  “Who’s who?” He swiped the razor down the side of his face, using his sense of touch to guide him. He couldn’t see his facial hair or feel his hands, so shaving depended on his face’s skin receptors. He was used to it by now, but he still cut himself often.

  “Hector.”

  He looked at her through the mirror that nearly took up the entire wall. She sat between the double sinks scooped into the long marble surface, putting her less than two feet away and close enough to feel her body heat.

  He dunked the razor in the bowl of water and swished it around. “I told you—”

  “No, I mean, who is he really?” Her beautiful eyes probed him. “What did he do to you?”

  Unwanted memories swelled, making his head throb harder. He didn’t want to talk about this, not now. The meeting stirred up enough garbage and he wanted it to go away. But who was he kidding? It would never go away. Not until everyone who was part of it burned to ash. Preferably by his own hand.

  Maybe then he would find peace.

  She brings you peace.

  Blaze shaved carefully, feeling his way, keeping his eyes on her. Valerie waited patiently, unwavering, expecting an answer. Even now her presence calmed him when he would’ve been tearing down the walls in the gym, looking to beat on something, anything, anyone.

  Like Hector had with him.

  Snapshots invaded his brain, a fist of brass knuckles coming down on his face, a nylon garrote wrapped around his throat, crushing his windpipe. He’d been strangled, pistol-whipped, and pummeled into oblivion by that motherfucker. Where Tristan had been more methodical and preferred to use whips, Hector had been explosive and enjoyed using his fists. Tristan showed him pain; Hector showed him death. He’d pushed Blaze into the arms of the reaper several times, to the point where even Cyrus had to restrain him. Hector wanted to kill Blaze more than anything in the world and there’d been times Blaze wished he had.

  At least the torment would’ve stopped.

  “He beat me like all the rest,” Blaze finally said, knowing his answer was terse, but it was the best he could do right now. “He didn’t give a fuck about torturing me for information, he just wanted to break every bone in my body.”

  Valerie looked away, but her delicate jaw had tightened. “And the rest? Is that why they hurt you, because they wanted information?”

  “Tristan wanted to hear me scream, Ling wanted to get off.” His words were harsh, brutal, but what they’d done to him was just that. “Nabila wanted the information.” In fact, she’d done the waterboarding, the denailing, the pitchcapping. “Cyrus, well, he just wanted to see me break.”

  He just wanted to turn me into a monster.

  “It’s funny, ‘cause he barely laid a hand on me.” Blaze kept on shaving, though he should’ve stopped since the razor shook. The words poured out of him now, like sewage into a swamp, contaminating the air. “It was all psychological with him. Sleep deprivation, sensory deprivation, mock execution, all of that bullshit. He wanted to watch me fall apart and he sure as hell succeeded.”

  Blaze swallowed hard, feeling his blood pressure go through the roof, taking the air temperature with it. His heart and head pounded and his breath grew shallow, bordering on hyperventilation. He dropped the razor and braced his hands on the sink, bowing his head as he tried to calm down, tried to collect himself.

  He felt as if he’d been eviscerated, his guts torn out and strewn all over the room.

  The pain was unbearable, consuming every last morsel of his civility, his fangs throbbing with their own pulse. Blaze had never experienced blood starvation like this before, as if a pit bull had his insides between its jaws and shook him like a dying weasel. His teeth chattered but he sweated profusely at the same time. He felt like he had glass in his veins, like his entire body was imploding and exploding, an
d he could do nothing more than curl up into a ball on the dirty floor, praying for the agony to stop.

  A door opened and he heard a dull thump as the scent of a scared female filled his nostrils, twisting his entrails in a vise grip. He could smell her blood, her sweat, her potent fear, and it made his mouth water. She landed within arms’ reach as she gasped desperately for air, trying to speak, to scream, to breathe. She crawled toward him blindly but Blaze saw her clearly, so clearly, like a glowing angel in the dark.

  “I suggest you feed, hybrid.” Chimola’s booming voice injected him with hatred, making him ball his chained hands into fists. “She’ll die anyway, so make good use of her. The blood of a corpse isn’t nearly as satisfying.”

  Blaze didn’t even have the strength to respond, his world narrowing down to the warm body in front of him. She smelled so sweet, so rich, and God, he was hungry.

  “Show her mercy, if you will,” Cyrus added with a low chuckle. “You’re good at that.”

  The door slammed behind him, leaving Blaze alone with the dying human. His blood roared in his ears as her gasps became louder and more labored, turning into hisses. Her fingertips brushed his face before she collapsed into a wheezing heap, her coconut scent crashing over him like a tsunami.

  He managed to unfold himself from the floor and then he was on top of her, his chains rattling with every movement. She barely resisted in her weakened state, her eyes going wide with profound terror, the whites showing around her dark irises. Tears fell from her eyes and pooled in her ears, burning hot in his vision. Her frantic heart pounded against his chest as he clawed his way up her body. His weight made it even harder for her to breathe and her eyelids fluttered, ready to pass out.

  She wore a jacket that held the scent of winter and Blaze nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply. She had soft, curly hair and her skin smelled of tanning lotion. The tiny voice of his conscience screamed bloody murder in the back of his head, but that part of him was no longer in control. The pain and hunger had turned him into a ravenous monster, seeking nothing but survival and relief.

  Her pulse slowed and became feather-light, and just before she breathed her last ragged breath, he sank his fangs into her warm throat. Blood rushed into his mouth, hot and salty, coppery sweet like he’d imagined. He let out a rumbling groan as the pain began to recede, the black tide pulling back from shore. Her blood filled his belly, sedating the pit bull, loosening the vise, and washing the glass out of his veins. Her heart stopped but he kept on feeding, unable to let go until the leech was sated. It was only when the blood ceased flowing that he finally released her, slowly coming back to his senses.

  Hazy reality swirled through his mind before the fog cleared, and when he looked down, he saw the lifeless face of a girl no older than sixteen.

  Horror sliced through him as his fangs retracted, the leech tucking away and leaving the human half of him to deal with the grisly consequences. Blaze quickly lifted himself off her and knelt beside her, his hands shaking as he cupped her doll face.

  “Wake up,” he croaked, but she wouldn’t. Her body cooled before his eyes, going from red to purple and fading to black. “Oh God, please wake up!” He picked her up, cradling her in his arms, feeling an entirely new kind of agony that hurt worse than any physical pain he’d endured. His chains jangled like laughter as he rocked back and forth, bellowing in anguish as he wept over the body of a child.

  Eventually, he stopped crying. And he never cried again.

  Valerie touched his arm, dragging him back to the surface, keeping him from drowning. He flinched at the contact, and she released him for a beat, but he let out a pent-up breath, inviting her back. She ran her hand down the length of his arm in a long stroke and settled at his elbow, right above where everything went numb. She squeezed there gently, her touch soothing him like nothing else could.

  “You don’t have to tell me—”

  “He made me do terrible things,” Blaze murmured, staring at the dripping faucet, unable to look her in the eye. The expression of horror on that girl’s face was branded into his brain for all eternity, the first of many victims under Grand Central Terminal. “Things I can never forget, things I can’t even talk about. And when I came back, when Dax brought me home, I was never the same. I didn’t know how to live anymore. I tried to go back to my normal routine, tried to adjust to the simple day-to-day things, but I couldn’t. That’s when I really broke apart. And it wasn’t just a crack or a fracture. I fucking shattered into pieces.”

  Valerie feathered her thumb against his skin, turning a valve inside him, letting the pollution wash out. “So instead of trying to cope, I became an addict, a thief. Heroin to slow me down, cocaine to speed me up, booze when I ran out of either. I robbed innocent people so no one could trace the money, so no one could figure out where I got the junk. And I got it from everywhere, anyone willing to sell it. What you saw back there in that conference room, that trust, is incredibly fragile, a fucking Band-Aid over the knife wounds I left in them. I never intended to hurt them, but when you can’t remember three years of your life, you’re bound to have done something you regret.”

  “They love you, Blaze. Even I can see that.”

  “I know. That’s why I stopped. That’s why I’m trying to pay back the money, to give it to those who need it most. Homes, Elena. Money for food, for rent. When I stepped out of my own head and realized I was destroying everything and everyone around me, I stopped. If it weren’t for Rome and Kasen, I would’ve eaten a bullet, made it easy on everyone. Kasen weaned me off the drugs and Rome helped me get through it mentally. I’ve fallen back down a few times since, but they always help me get back up.”

  “How long have you been clean?”

  “Two years.” He finally scraped up enough courage to look at her. She’d scooted closer, her eyes piercing his soul and leaving a mark. “I’m still trying to put myself back together and it’s been harder lately.” He swallowed hard, feeling extraordinarily vulnerable. “But you’ve made it easier.”

  Valerie smiled, one of those gorgeous, heart-stopping smiles that had lured him in the first place.

  Shaving cream dripped onto Blaze’s forearm and he lifted a hand to his face, trying to catch it. “I’m making a mess.”

  “Come here.” She pulled him toward her and picked up the razor he’d dropped in the sink. He settled between her legs as she reapplied the shaving cream, smoothing a hand over his skin. He sighed as he closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation as her warmth filled his heart to the brim. She carefully finished what he’d started, and it was in that moment when he realized he was madly in love with her.

  “No one’s ever done this for me before,” Blaze said a bit hoarsely, covering her knees with his hands.

  “I used to do it for my dad when he couldn’t anymore.” Valerie leaned over and rinsed the razor before setting it down. “But he had a lot more hair than you,” she added with a chuckle, handing him a towel.

  He wiped his face and murmured, “Thank you.”

  She trailed a finger along the line of his jaw. “You’re welcome.”

  Blaze dropped the towel before he framed her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, pouring all of his emotion into it. She returned it with the same fervor as she wrapped herself around him.

  Even after everything he’d told her.

  After everything he’d done.

  They could very well die tonight, as they could die any night, but somehow this was different. Somehow he was more afraid, not at the thought of death, but at the thought of losing her—at the thought of never seeing her again.

  So he showed her exactly how he felt, in the shower, in the bedroom, in the kitchen.

  And he didn’t stop until sundown.

  SIXTEEN

  Valerie stood at the far end of the conference room while Blaze went over the battle plan
with Rome. Jon drew a schematic out on the marker board in black, adding Rome’s suggestions in red. Kasen and Dax stood beside her, listening intently, arms folded over their chests. All the men wore black battle uniforms with bulletproof vests, and they were armed to the teeth, loaded with artillery.

  Similarly garbed in a black, long-sleeved shirt with her vest over it, baggy pants and sneakers, Valerie slipped her PPK into its holster at the small of her back. She had her Beretta at her hip and a set of blades on her person, one strapped to her ankle, the other to her wrist. Once they hit the city, an M4 carbine assault rifle would be added to that collection.

  Earlier Blaze had shown her their armory and she couldn’t believe the amount of weapons the room contained, nearly as many as the station. Far more than only six Knights could utilize. She couldn’t even name some, while other weapons were from different parts of the world. Some were ancient, most modern. They even had prototypes that looked as if they’d been pulled from science fiction movies. She’d never seen anything like them in her entire life.

  Her father would’ve loved them.

  Blaze caught Valerie’s attention from across the room and smiled as Rome and Jon argued over something. His opalescent eyes were exposed, something he did more often around her lately. He winked and she winked back, grinning at him despite the cold lump of dread in her belly.

  There’d been an intensity to the way they’d made love, as if it were the last time they’d be together. She relished every moment of it, but it scared the hell out of her. He’d confessed so much to her, pouring his heart out, opening himself raw, and taking her breath away. Drawing her even closer to him. She wanted to heal him, to strip away all that pain, but it wouldn’t be easy. It would take time and she was more than willing to stick around for it.