by Devyn Quinn
Reyen reached for the bottle, helping himself to a healthy slug. “Serafina was a remarkable woman,” he said when the bottle came down. “You were lucky to have her as long as you did.”
Maddox frowned and shook his head. “It wasn’t long enough.”
“You had twelve good years together,” his friend reminded him. “And you knew it wouldn’t last. Even if she hadn’t been killed by those murdering bastards, she was still human. There would have been a time when you had to put her in the grave and walk away. At least she went out fighting.”
Maddox gasped, close to choking on the sob of sheer loneliness and despair welling up inside his soul. Memories. Those wispy, insubstantial images lingering in his mind were all he possessed of the woman he’d loved most in this world.
“She wouldn’t give up the hunt,” he said. “Even though she knew she wasn’t as strong as she’d been in her youth, she wouldn’t stop. I begged her to, you know. But she hated staying home and tending the hearth.”
Reyen took another long drink. “In her heart she was a warrior, even though she was a woman.” He paused a moment, then added. “I liked her.”
“Do you think she hated me before she died?”
“I think she knew you were trying to get to her.”
Breathing heavily, Maddox’s heart beat double time in his chest. It hurt, an ache that refused to be dulled no matter how much booze he swilled. Cursing the pain, he lifted the cigarette to his lips and sucked deeply on its filter. The tar was going directly to his lungs, and he began to cough violently.
Reyen bared his teeth. “Smoke another one, you dumb bastard.”
“Don’t guess it’ll kill me.” Maddox snuffed out the remnants. One would think to exist forever, to be eternally untouched by time’s decay, would be a magnificent experience. Not so. Although he didn’t age, his mind, his psyche, was doomed to chip away. In many ways it was a horrifying, long disintegration.
“You can leave at any time.” His gaze searched for and found the .38. “I have something else to do.”
Reyen shook his head. “You Frenchmen are such drama queens.” Sticking out his hand, he turned up his palm, showing the symbol tattooed into his palm. “You seem to forget we swore an oath, never to be broken. We are brothers under the skin, and a man doesn’t let his brother fall.”
Maddox turned up his own hand. His palm was similarly marked. As Palindromes, as the Sons of Light, they’d sworn to fight to their final breath to take down the Telave. Yet his addiction to the bite had hobbled him, making him a weak and ineffective ally. Even when Serafina was alive, he’d craved the forbidden. But he’d never let himself fall to the lure.
Not until after her death.
Drowning in a well of misery and sorrow, he’d sought out the very thing Serafina had despised. In many ways it had been an attempt to punish himself for failing to rescue her. If the Telave wanted to kill him, he’d give them ample chances to accomplish it. Any one of them could have ripped out his throat at any time.
And he would have welcomed death.
“I’m not worth—” he started to say.
Reyen cocked a brow. “Saving?” he retorted sarcastically. “No, I don’t suppose your sorry ass is worth the dynamite it would take to blast you to hell. But if you blow your brains out, that makes Sam the number two man.” He grimaced. “And you know how the little bastard gets on my nerves. I’d have to kill him, and that would leave only one Palindrome watching New Orleans.” He threw back the last of the whiskey. “Man, that’s too much work for me.”
Reaching for a fresh cigarette, Maddox studied the stubborn features of his friend. “Your sentiment overwhelms me.”
Letting his hand drop, Reyen chuckled. “Yeah. Whatever. What you need to do now is climb on out of your self-pity pool and get your ass cleaned up. As long as those things are out there, we still have work to do.”
Maddox supposed that was better than pulling the trigger. He’d fallen—hard. Now it was time to pick himself up, dust off, and put his balls back on. “What about Jesse?”
“She’s your problem, man.” His big hands flexed. “The minute I catch the little bitch alone, she’s a goner. You were doin’ okay until you got a whiff of the demon inside her.”
His words brought Maddox’s hackles up. Unlike some men, he didn’t throw away a woman he’d bedded. Once he made a commitment to a woman, he was in for the long haul. He just wasn’t sure he was fully committed to Jesse yet.
Jesse didn’t know it, but his recent sex life resembled the Sahara—a long dry stretch of self-deprivation. Something in her had triggered a break in his rigid denial of pleasure. During their lovemaking, he’d been willing to surrender himself, body and soul. For a moment his need had been naked and totally exposed.
“That wasn’t her fault.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” Reyen shook his head.
“Bringing her in was the worst mistake you ever made. You wanted her. I could see it in your face the day you told me about her.”
“She’s got . . . something. I can’t explain it, but there’s a connection between us.”
His black eyes narrowed. “Bullshit. If you’d get over that twisted S and M hang-up you’ve got for a vamp’s bite and simply bang more chicks, your mind might work right.” His thick brows arched upward. “You falter again and you won’t have to blow your own brains out.” He cocked his thumb and forefinger into a gunlike shape. “I’ll take care of that for you.”
Maddox stiffened. “Is that a threat?”
Reyen smiled, slowly, ominously. “It’s a promise, my brother.”
Maddox swore under his breath. A hot welter of resentment rushed to fill the void so recently drained of desperation. The man who supposedly has his back would be just as glad to slide a knife right through his ribs.
“Some fucking brother you are,” he replied wryly.
Chapter 13
The portion of the Central Business District closer to the Mississippi River and upriver from Poydras Street was known as the Warehouse District, because it was heavily devoted to warehousing and manufacturing. Over time, the district fell and became semiderelict, resulting in a renaissance of redevelopment. Many of the old nineteenth-century warehouses were converted into hotels, restaurants, condominiums, and art galleries. More than a few were claimed for private use.
Sam Chen was one of the people who’d claimed one of the old warehouses, converting it into his own work and living space. The first level was half garage, half laboratory, filled with the odds and ends of his tinkering to produce better and more effective weapons against the demon undead.
The second level was a maze of storage rooms in the process of being demolished and turned into an apartment. The place was half-finished, a jumble of building materials and personal possessions.
Jesse had to admit the room Sam had let her stay in was a huge step up from Maddox’s cramped underground abode. The old warehouse had once been used to store merchandise for a shoe store. Sam was slowly demolishing the individual spaces, intending to turn the place into a wide-open loft. He still had quite a maze to work through. The storage spaces he hadn’t yet gotten around to knocking down were lined with stack after stack of shelving, which wasn’t so bad, considering it gave her somewhere to stow her stuff.
Sam had generously furnished the space with a camp cot, sheets, and a couple of blankets, along with a small packing crate to use as a bedside table. For a nice touch he’d even added a rug to cover the bare concrete floor.
Although this section of the warehouse was mostly blocked off from the living quarters Sam had staked out for himself, that wasn’t a problem. At the end of the corridor was an elevator that led to a first-floor bathroom that was part of the space Sam used as a garage. There were only a sink and a toilet, but Sam had rigged a hose and nozzle to fit over the sink’s faucet, creating a shower of sorts. Since the walls were brick and the floor was concrete with a drain, it didn’t matter if anything got wet. It was a
nifty way for someone to wash up without having to go upstairs and use the bathroom.
Jesse loved the room. It was better than anywhere she’d stayed, and for the first time in ages she felt safe—really safe. When living on the streets, she’d made it a point never to stay in the same location more than a few nights. Hunting down a new place to stay was tough. She wasn’t the only homeless person on the streets, and the competition for all the good spots, such as under an apartment stairwell or in the niches around the public library, were usually taken by canny squatters who intended to settle in and stay awhile.
The door swung open. Sam poked his head inside. “Come on, Jesse. You can’t keep hiding out here. You’re going to have to talk to Maddox, so you might as well get it over with.”
Jesse shook her head. “No, I really don’t want to see him.” Since telling Sam they’d slept together, she’d felt like a whore. Even though Sam had gently clued her in to Maddox’s addiction, his explanation hadn’t made her feel any better. She was hoping they had had sex because he truly desired her.
He wanted the demon, she thought. Not me. It was really a kinky situation—a slayer who got his rocks off by making it with vamps.
She drew in a painful breath. “What’s the point?” she asked. “I can’t give him what he wants.”
Sam walked over and sat down beside her. “At least give the poor schmuck a chance to apologize,” he said. “Believe it or not, he’s struggled with this a long time. In a lot of ways I believe it’s been his only coping mechanism in dealing with Serafina’s murder.”
Jesse nodded slowly. Yes, she now knew a good part of Maddox’s history, which included the Creole huntress who’d helped him understand his origins as a Palindrome. She’d kept him from slipping into the dark world of the Telave and those who served them.
It was a struggle Jesse could sympathize with. But if she agreed to go back to Maddox, would it just be a case of the blind leading the blind? Could one partner avoid temptation when the other was so eager to embrace it?
She frowned. “I understand he’s got issues. We all seem to.”
“Which is why we all need to stick together,” Sam reminded her. “It isn’t as if we have a terrific support group who understand what it’s like to go out and kill demons. The hours are bad, the pay sucks, and there’s no health insurance or other benefits.”
She grimaced even as she laughed. “Then why do you do it?”
“Honestly?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. Honestly.”
“I don’t know about Reyen or Maddox, but I do it because it means I was picked to make a difference in this world. I mean, think about it. Out of the billions of men born through uncounted millennia, I was born with a genetic structure able to resist the invasion of a demon. That’s something amazing if you think about it.”
Jesse considered his words. “Yeah, I suppose it is pretty awesome not to be human.”
Sam shook his head. “It’s not just the fact that I get to be a little stronger and faster than the average guy. I mean, when that demon went inside me, I was sure I’d have to kiss my ass good-bye.”
She allowed the ghost of a smile to play around her lips. “Except you were tied up and couldn’t do that,” she reminded him.
Sam laughed. “Yeah, well, that, too. Anyway, when you live through something that intense, you have to start looking beyond your tiny space in this world. I was born to make a difference. It’s nothing I chose to do. It’s something I was called to do, by a force much larger and greater than me.”
“Then you believe the end of days is coming?”
“Not coming,” he corrected her. “I believe the dark days are here. We’re living them now. But I don’t believe it’s the end of all mankind. Evil is flexing its muscles, and only those who are strong and fight back will be left standing in the end. It’s those people, I believe, who will rebuild what’s left of our civilization after the fighting is done.”
Jesse pressed a hand against her chest. “I don’t guess there’s a way I can go AWOL from this outfit.”
Sam laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You have done what I have seen no other human—especially a woman—do. Whatever grace protects you, it’s a strong one. I believe you’re going to be a force to be reckoned with.”
She sighed. “I don’t feel like a force.”
Sam stood up. “Well, you can’t be a dynamo if you won’t come out of your room. Come on. The guys will be here soon.”
As much as she hated to admit it, Sam Chen was right. Hiding and cowering like a little girl wasn’t any way to get anything accomplished. She’d done nothing wrong. The best way to get past her embarrassment and shame was simply to look Maddox in the face and forgive his lapse into weakness. At the core, they were, after all, human beings. If she couldn’t find that bit of humanity within herself, she might as well be one of the vampiric undead.
Jesse forced herself off the cot. “Let’s go.”
She followed Sam down the long, cold concrete corridor of the warehouse. They passed a short staircase that led to the first floor and turned into an area that had once served as office space. Most of the walls separating the rooms had been removed, creating a wide-open living arrangement. A nice open kitchen was separated from the living room by a butcher-block island that also served as a small bar.
“Want something to drink?” he asked, heading toward a small dorm fridge centered in the heart of the hollowed-out block.
Jesse smiled. “I’ll have a soda, if you have it.”
“Make yourself comfortable,” he invited.
“Thanks.”
Jesse looked around. Comfortable didn’t begin to describe Sam’s digs. A theater-sized wide-screen television ruled over a comfortable array of couches and chairs, an eclectic mix of pieces rescued from secondhand shops and lovingly restored into mint condition. The walls of a third office still stood, converted into a bed-and-bath combination. The windows were covered with blinds, which were usually let down and closed. On the outside, thick black bars were welded across the glass. Not only was the warehouse wired with an elaborate alarm system, but Sam had also taken the extra precaution of having blessed items embedded around the foundation. The uninvited weren’t welcome, be they human or demon.
Shelf after shelf of books held a curious collection of literature, most of which concerned vampires and other demonic entities. Many of the books were written in Chinese, Sam’s native language.
Though she found his book collection impressive, it was nothing compared to the weaponry taking up half of one wall.
With envy in her heart, Jesse scanned the various models of swords he’d collected, along with an impressive assortment of uncommon blades. He even had a crossbow, which she thought was awesome. A few handguns rounded out his collection. Each piece looked deadly, and there was no doubt in her mind that Sam knew how to use each one with deadly precision.
Drawn by their beauty, she studied them closely. Her gaze settled again on a piece she’d noticed before. It was unusual, consisting of three long serrated blades attached to some sort of grip intended to fit around the hand and wrist. The weapon was obviously a custom job and probably expensive. It reminded her of something one might see in a samurai or science fiction movie. A matching dagger maybe twenty inches long completed the set.
Jesse’s heart dripped with envy. Damn, she wanted that piece. Unlike Maddox, she didn’t care for guns; she didn’t like the look or sound of them. She had to admit she was more like Reyen, who seemed to prefer the stealth and skill wielding a knife entailed. She didn’t mind looking demons in the eyes as they died.
Sam delivered her drink, which he’d thoughtfully poured over ice in a frosted glass. “Here you go.”
Jesse accepted his offering. “I like your collection,” she said. “Very impressive. Do you use any of them, or are they just for show?”
Sam shrugged. “Thanks. I’ve used every piece at one time or another before I found the weapon I prefer to us
e for slaying.”
“So what’s your weapon of choice?”
Sam grinned. “A Beretta M9 with hollow-point silver bullets, specially made by yours truly. Reyen likes to watch the heads roll, but I’m just as happy taking them down with minimum muss and fuss. Smack them in the head and heart and they’re down, I guarantee. Even if you miss—and that’s hard to do—the silver acts as a paralyzing agent. They’ll just lie there, bubbling and oozing until they bleed to death. Then they just collapse into goo.”
Jesse took a sip of her soda. “Ah, mmm. Interesting.” Maybe she’d misjudged Reyen when she’d mentally compared him to the kid who used to sit in a corner and pull the legs off insects. Apparently Sam Chen had a little bit of a cruel streak, as well. Maximum suffering seemed to be his goal. Of course, she could see the value in both methods.
Sam studied the wall. “If you’re going to do this, you’re going to have to decide what works for you.”
“Maddox gave me a switchblade,” she volunteered, and produced the slender blade from her hip pocket. A touch of the button flicked it open.
“Nice if you’re up close, but why anyone would want to be, I don’t know.”
Pressing the tip of her knife against her thigh, Jesse pressed the button again, folding the sharp blade down. It had taken a couple of days’ practice for the move to look smooth and unaffected. Putting the weapon away, she pointed toward the set of claws that had drawn her eyes. “What’s that?”
Sam’s eyes widened with pleasure. “Ah, the Pantera Claw. One of my favorites.” Plucking it off the wall, he fit the grip over Jesse’s right hand. Once the leather strips were tightened into place, the three blades fit snugly between the fingers, giving the user greater control.
Stepping back, she swished her hand through the air. “Man, now I know what Wolverine feels like. This is fucking awesome.” She felt like a kid in a candy store who had a whole ten-dollar bill to spend on anything she wanted.
“The blades are spaced so they slide through the ribs for maximum penetration.”
