Dead of Night (The Revenant Book 3)

by Kali Argent

  “Whoa.” She turned and put her right hand up when Nikolai tried to follow her around to the back of the building. “I’ve got this. No help required.”

  After pocketing the key to the SUV, Nikolai slipped a similar handgun into the back of his waistband, then jerked his head toward the side of the station. “Your modesty will recover.”

  “Nik—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “You’re not going back there alone.”

  “Fine.” It was unlikely anything would happen, but he was probably right. “Turn around,” she insisted when they reached the back of the building. “Don’t look.”

  “Fine,” he echoed, moving to face the blank wall of the corner store. “Hurry up.”

  Gun in one hand, it took a little extra maneuvering to slide her jeans down her hips, but she managed without too much difficulty. They were mated now, bonded forever, and he’d traced just about every inch of her with his tongue in the past few days. Still, she was embarrassed for him to know she peed. It was so ridiculous that she had to laugh.

  “What is it?” He shuffled his feet, and the muscles in his neck tensed as he started to turn.

  “Don’t look!”

  “Kamara.”

  He didn’t say anything more, but he sounded so exasperated with her, she laughed again. “Just don’t look.”

  “I’m not looking.”

  “Don’t listen, either. Cover your ears.”

  “I’m not going to cover my fucking ears. Just go.”

  “Okay, okay, don’t get your dick in a knot.”

  Nine seconds later, she’d finished relieving herself over a circular storm drain and put her clothes back to rights.

  “Are you finished?”

  Once she’d finish buttoning her jeans, she dropped the hem of her jacket so that it fell to the tops of her thighs. “You can look now.”

  “Okay.” He sounded distracted, and instead of facing her, he angled left and headed for the back door. “It’s probably been scavenged twice over by now, but we should check it out anyway. There might be something we can use.”

  “We have enough supplies to last a week, maybe more, and if we need something, we can buy it when we stop for gas.” They were both vampires and could easily pass for Coalition supporters if they needed. Plus, this far outside of Dallas, she doubted anyone would recognize them.

  He shook his head. “We can’t buy weapons and ammunition.”

  “Shit, I didn’t think of that.”

  They had guns and ten rounds apiece, but if something happened between the border and Blue Hill, if they had to expend their ammunition, they’d be screwed. Other than soldiers and guards, the ownership of firearms had been banned by the Coalition, the law extending to Gemini as well as humans. Even the Revenant had a hard time keeping their armories stocked, so anything they could find would help.

  “You’re right,” she conceded. “Let’s go, but make it quick.” Leading the way into the building, she flinched back at the rank odor of decay that assaulted her. “Oh, that’s foul.”

  Undeterred, she pressed on, tense and alert as she shuffled deeper into a makeshift dining area with square, Formica-topped tables and overturned, plastic garden chairs. Along the back wall, a row of refrigerator cases stood dark and empty, their doors broken or removed completely. Random, useless items, like fishing lures and ceramic drink coasters had been strewn across the speckled tiles, but nothing remained on the metal shelves.

  Fountain drink machines sat dusty and unused in one of the shadowy corners, while a hot dog roller grill with a broken sneeze guard and an open cash register stood sentinel on the front counter. The cigarette rack behind the register had been emptied, except for a handful of those vaporizer things.

  Rounding the counter, she checked on the shelf beneath it for a shotgun, handgun, or even a baseball bat, but she wasn’t surprised to find it empty. “There’s nothing here.”

  Standing in an open doorway to her right, Nikolai looked over his shoulder. “Looks like an office back here. There’s another door on the back wall. Storage room, maybe?”

  “Hmm, maybe.” Pushing him between the shoulder blade, she urged into the office, following close behind. “This is encouraging.” Other than an overturned chair and a few scattered papers, the office appeared to be mostly untouched. “Look in those cabinets over there. I’ll check the desk.”

  The stench of rotting flesh permeated the room, much stronger in the office than it had been out in the main part of the store, and it seemed to be coming from beyond the door Nikolai had mentioned. If she could, she’d avoid that green door with its chrome knob, but if they were going to take the time to search the place, they should at least do it properly.

  “Nothing.” Kicking the bottom drawer of the desk shut, she growled in frustration. “You?”

  Nikolai shook his head. “Mostly office supplies.”

  Huffing, Kamara looked at the green door with a mixture of apprehension and resignation. “Shall we?”

  Reaching the door first, Nikolai turned the knob and pushed it open without circumstance.

  The smell that rushed from the small closet made them both gag, and Kamara clapped a hand over her nose and mouth as she turned away. She’d been around many dead bodies in varying degrees of decomposition both as a detective and after the Purge, but she never could get used to that smell. As a vampire with heightened senses, she had to swallow several times to force the bile back down her esophagus.

  “It looks like she crawled in here to hide, but she bled out before she could find help,” Nikola said, his tone subdued. “Claw and bite marks. Werewolves maybe.”

  “Ravagers,” Kamara corrected, walking over to join him as a hollow pit formed in her stomach. “It was Ravagers.”

  Unaware of her growing trepidation, he shrugged. “It could be. Either way, she’s been here for a while. Three months at least.”

  Spotting a ripped canvas backpack with a broken strap in the corner, she held her breath and reached over the dead woman to retrieve it, then carried it to the desk where she dropped it with a muffled thud. Inside, she found clothes, a toothbrush, a half-empty bottle of water, and a Beretta Storm with an extra, full fifteen-round clip.

  Releasing the magazine, she frowned, and her confusion deepened when she pulled the slide back and found no bullet in the chamber. “This is full. She didn’t even fire it.”

  “Maybe there wasn’t time.”

  “Maybe.” She handed the pistol and extra magazine to Nikolai, then upended the remaining contents of the pack onto the desk.

  She didn’t find anything else useful—a pack of gum, a crushed granola bar, a handful of loose change, and a small, cardboard photo album with frayed edges. Picking it up, she flipped through the pages, smiling at the pictures of what appeared to be a birthday party. There were a couple of photographs tucked into the back of the book, and Kamara picked one up, studying the young woman with spiky blonde hair.

  She wore a hot pink, plastic tiara, and she smiled at the camera. She looked happy, if maybe a little drunk.

  Flipping the picture over, Kamara read the inscription on the back. It was dated a year before the Purge, and it had indeed been the woman’s twenty-first birthday.

  “Jordan Marie Pearson,” she read aloud.

  Kamara’s hand trembled so badly she couldn’t hold onto the photo. It felt from her fingers and floated to the floor, landing face down, the words on the back still visible.

  “We have to go.” Jumping over the desk, she shoved Nikolai toward the door as she pulled her gun from her waistband. “Go. Run. We have to get out of here.”

  Three feet from the doorway, Nikolai grunted when the butt of shotgun caught him in the chin. His head snapped back, and he stumbled several steps before the disorientation dropped him to one knee.

  “Drop your weapon.” A big guy with a bushy beard and beefy arms stepped into the office while another male stood guard just beyond the doorway. “Drop the fucking gun,” he repeate
d, “or I’ll blow your boyfriend’s goddamn head off, lady.”

  These guys thought she and Nikolai were human, which was likely the only reason they were still alive. Pressing her lips together to hide her fangs, Kamara held both hands up and nodded. Maintaining eye contact, she crouched to the dirty floor and set her gun on the tiles.

  “Slide it over.”

  Upright once again, she used her foot to kick it to the bearded man. She was faster than him, probably stronger. If he stooped to retrieve the handgun, he’d be distracted long enough for her to snap his neck before either he or his watchdog could fire a shot. So, she waited, watching, planning her moves in her head.

  He didn’t go for it.

  Three more men entered the room, all with rifles and shotguns, rendering her plan completely useless. The guy who appeared to be the leader kept his barrel trained on Kamara, and one of the newcomers turned his gun on Nikolai while the other two searched them.

  Nikolai’s upper lip began to curl as he watched the asshole pat her down, but thankfully, his fangs were still too short to be visible. Holding his gaze, Kamara shook her head. They were outnumbered, and the only way they were getting out of this alive was if they kept their cool, and their mouths closed.

  “Nothing personal,” the leader told her, and he sounded like he meant it. “We just want your vehicle.

  “Found the key,” one of the other guys said, pulling it from Nikolai’s pocket. “Three handguns and an extra clip,” he added. “Let’s go. It fucking stinks in here.”

  With the closet door open, the smell overwhelmed the room, which was probably why Kamara hadn’t scented the Raiders in the first place.

  “I am sorry about this,” the bearded guy said, backing out of the office after his cronies. “We’re just trying to survive.”

  Kamara said nothing.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, but if you follow us, I will kill you. Got it?”

  Hands fisted at her sides, she nodded.

  As soon as the Raiders disappeared into the main part of the store, she hurried to Nikolai’s side and crouched beside him on the floor. “Are you okay?” Grabbing his chin, she turned his head to the side to inspect his jaw. “Let me see.”

  Pulling away, he shoved to his feet and growled. “I’m fine.” After a couple of deep breaths, he pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Are you okay, cara mia?”

  “Fine, just pissed. I’m so fucking stupid.” Of course, her dream hadn’t meant much to her at the time, but now, it all made perfect sense. “Remember when is said I got someone killed in my dream?” She felt his nod. “Her name was Jordan, like the dead woman in the closet who was clearly attacked by Ravagers.”

  “There’s no way you could have known what the dream meant.”

  “You said she’s been dead for about three months?”

  “Give or take.”

  Kamara sighed. “In my dream, I was thinking that it had been three months since I’d last seen her. I was walking down a highway, no supplies, all beaten to hell and back because a group of Raiders had jumped me just over the Oklahoma border.”

  “Well, at least there aren’t any buzzards.”

  Chuckling, she pulled away and rubbed both hands over her face. “What’s the point of being a Seer if I don’t even understand what I’m seeing?”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He tilted her head up and brushed their lips together. “You figured it out in the end.”

  “Yeah, right before we almost died.”

  “But we didn’t die,” he reminded her. “You only just found out about your abilities. Give it time. I have every faith that you’ll figure out how to use them.”

  “I guess I just have to assume that every dream means something, no matter how silly or pointless it seems at the time.” That didn’t make her feel any better about what had just happened, but all she could do was try harder in the future. “What do we do now?”

  “They took our car, our supplies, and our weapons, so I think the only thing we can do is start walking.”

  “All the way to Blue Hill?”

  “Or until we can find another vehicle.”

  She wrinkled her nose. It would be night soon, and dangerous things lurked in the night. “I don’t like it.”

  “Do you have a better plan?”

  She didn’t, and they couldn’t stay where they were. The Raiders hadn’t just taken food and water. They’d also made off with the cooler of blood bags. Once they realized what was in that little box, it was possible their leader would have a change of heart and come back to finish what he’d started.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  It wasn’t just the dreams, though. As they exited the gas station and strode toward the forest, she realized the hollow pit in her stomach was still there. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t over, not yet. Something was coming. Something bad.

  Something they might not survive.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Nikolai officially hated nature.

  For two and half days, they’d followed the course of the main road, sticking to the trees whenever possible, though they hadn’t seen another living thing in miles. The first night, it had rained—cold, biting rain that stuck to their hair and stung their skin. By the time they’d found shelter in an old, dilapidated barn, they’d been soaked to the bone.

  The rain had continued into the next afternoon, making the depressing trek even more miserable. Thankfully, they’d found an abandoned farmhouse, and had been able to dry their clothes near the log fireplace. Of course, getting the fire started had been an adventure in and of itself. For some reason, he’d assumed Kamara would know how to build a fire, but after a lot of eye rolling, she’d informed him she’d been a detective, not a girl scout.

  Eventually, they’d figured it out, and the rest of the night had passed without much incident.

  The new day had brought warmer temperatures and clearer skies, but it had done nothing to improve Nikolai’s mood. The farmhouse had been supplied by a well, which meant they’d had access to water in the morning, but they hadn’t been able to find a single container to carry any of it with them. They’d also had no luck in locating food, weapons, supplies, or anything else they could use.

  His stomach ached and growled, reminding him exactly how long it had been since he’d eaten. Worse, his throat felt raw, his muscles ached, and he’d been battling a migraine for the past eighteen hours. More than food, or even water, he needed to feed.

  Glancing at his mate from the corner of his eye, he sighed. They both needed blood and soon.

  Kamara’s olive skin had turned ashy, and her cheekbones protruded sharply beneath her skin, creating dark hollows around her eyes. He’d offered her his wrist twice since they’d started their journey, but she’d refused him. Granted, he didn’t look much better than she did, but he’d been a vampire for a lot longer, meaning he didn’t need to feed as often. There was also the fact that he loved her, and he’d do anything for her, even let her drain him dry.

  His brother and sister would have supplies, including fresh blood bags, but he and Kamara were still two days from the rendezvous point. Part of him hoped that when they didn’t show, Syrus and Veronica would come looking for them. Another part of him—the part that had spent his entire life protecting his siblings—hoped they’d return to their safe house and stay out of the entire mess.

  “These ghost towns are always eerie,” Kamara remarked as she shuffled along beside him. “It’s sad. You can piece together the lives people had here, but it’s gone now. All of it, just poof.” As she blew into her fist, she unfurled her fingers, making the act all one motion. “Where are we anyway?”

  “There was a sign about a mile back said Brookfield. Have you ever heard of it?”

  “Nope, but maybe that’s a good thing. It’s not on the main road, and while it’s clearly deserted, it doesn’t look trashed like the other towns we passed. Maybe it hasn’t been cleaned out by Raiders a
nd scavengers.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  The town didn’t look like much. Single-story buildings lined a two-lane road with wide cracks and deep potholes. The signs over the shops had faded with the years, but he could still make out a few of them. Bella’s Bakery sat next to a hair salon called Southern Sass. The next store looked like it might have been boutique, and beyond that, a coffeehouse named simply The Bean.

  The opposite side of the street contained a strip of hardware, feed, and liquor stores. The division made him chuckle.

  “Coffeehouse and hardware store,” Kamara announced out of the blue. “They seem like the only two places worth searching.”

  “I doubt you’re going to find a double roast espresso, cara mia.”

  His mate snorted. “While that would be fabulous, I was thinking we might find bottled water.”

  “Good point, but in that case, we should try the bakery as well.”

  “Couldn’t hurt, but we should hurry.” Tilting her head back, she stared up at the brilliant blue sky and shook her head. “What do you think? Three hours? Maybe four?”

  Nikolai glanced at the sky as well, but looked down just as quickly when the sun burned his retinas. “Probably closer to three.”

  With that thought in mind, they started inside Bella’s Bakery. There, they found overturned chairs and muddy footprints made by bare, human feet, but nothing else of use. They skipped the hair salon, traveling down the debris-strewn sidewalk to the little boutique with its naked display window.

  “What are you doing?”

  Kamara frowned as she reached for the door handle. “Clothes, blankets, maybe a backpack,” she remarked, leading the way inside the store. “We might find something useful.”

  As it turned out, she hadn’t been wrong. The place had been picked over more than once, but they did manage to salvage a leather backpack with a six-hundred-dollar price tag, a fleece throw blanket depicting little cartoon snowmen, and three pairs of clean, dry socks.

  The backpack they’d found purely by accident when Kamara had thrown open the curtains to give them enough light to search. There it had been, dusty and crumpled, sitting half-hidden by a bookshelf behind the drapes. The socks they’d taken off headless mannequins, and the blanket had been sitting right out in the open, neatly folded on an old rocking chair.