Blood Captive: A Paranormal Vampire Romance (Vampire Huntress Chronicles Book 2)

by Jessica Wayne

  I fight the emotion welling up inside of me. Instead, I reach out a hand and shake his, clasping my other hand on his forearm. “I cannot even begin to tell you what your words mean to me.”

  “Any clue where to start?”

  After releasing his hand, I reach into my pocket and retrieve my phone. “There’s a lot more you need to know,” I say. “But I need to bring in Jane. She’s more knowledgeable than I am.”

  I tap her contact information as Tarnley strolls back over to my bar and pours himself a glass of whiskey.

  “What is it?”

  “We have something we need to discuss,” I tell her. “I’m texting you an address. Get here as soon as you can.”

  “On my way.”

  25

  Rainey

  I pull up beside a lifted black Tahoe. A man wearing black-rimmed aviators hops out. Wearing a fitted black T-shirt and dark wash jeans, he’s exactly the kind of person you would expect to find working security at a rock concert.

  Small, black gauges in both ears, his light hair is cropped short on the sides and combed up to a short mohawk on the top of his head. A trimmed beard covers the bottom half of his face, his mouth set in a tight line. Tattoos climb up both arms, intricate designs that catch my eye, holding my attention as he walks toward me.

  “Rainey?” he asks and removes his sunglasses to reveal cognac eyes.

  “Cole?”

  He nods and holds out a hand. “Good to meet you.”

  “You too.”

  “I’m just sorry it’s under such shit circumstances.” He nods toward the silver warehouse in front of us, and I start walking toward it, following him.

  Magic permeates the air—the pungent power encircling the warehouse. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

  “You feel it too?” he asks.

  “What is it?”

  “However they died—it was not natural.” He grips the handle and yanks the door open. “Stella?”

  The witch stands in the center of the bodies, her brightly colored dress a direct contrast with the grim scene before me. “I came to see—” her voice cracks. “So much pain.”

  Cole rushes toward her, catching the seer before she crumples. “You shouldn’t have come, Stella. That’s why we didn’t call you.”

  “They suffered greatly, Cole. All of them.”

  “Reggie?” he asks, and she nods.

  “Perhaps it was the worst for him. He came in the middle of it.”

  Tears burn in the corners of my eyes as I walk into the room.

  As a cop, I’ve seen horrible shit that would give even the most steel-backed people nightmares. I’ve seen countless bodies in countless crime scenes. But this? The thirteen women sprawled in a circle, covered in blood, and the single male—the young shifter—reaching for the dead as if his touch could save the one he loved, kills me. I feel a rage so fucking strong burn through me I’m sure I’ll combust right the fuck here.

  “This is—” Stella cracks and shakes her head.

  “I’m going to take her outside,” Cole offers.

  I nod as he passes me, Stella on his arm. Before she moves fully past me though, she reaches out and grabs my arm. “They did not die for nothing,” she says. “Make it count.”

  “I will,” I promise. Though I already fear who killed them and why. If the original witch is looking for a power boost—the women here must have nearly overloaded her.

  I start at the witch who died reaching for her lover. She’s a petite blonde, her hair matted with blood, her throat sliced open. She’s wearing a white dress just like the others, her brown eyes glassy and staring up at the ceiling. My guess is she’s no older than twenty-two.

  She should have had a life ahead of her. A love, children if she chose, and yet she ended up dead on the concrete floor of a warehouse.

  “Emmy,” Cole says from behind me.

  I glance back at him, but he’s not looking at me. His gaze is trained firmly on the dead shifter.

  “Her name was Emmy. She and Reggie have been seeing each other in secret for about two years.”

  “If it was secret, how did you know?”

  “He was my brother.”

  A wave of pain slams into me. I can feel it—potent and fresh. “I’m so sorry,” I offer and turn back to the young shifter who died beside the woman he loved. I’m surprised I didn’t see the resemblance before. But now that I know, it’s there in the shape of their faces, the color of their eyes. My anger churns, morphing into something bordering on grief. I know what he’s feeling—finding his sibling dead.

  I’ve been there.

  And it nearly destroyed me.

  “Find who did this, Rainey Astor,” he says tightly.

  “I will,” I promise. “Do you know who the other women were?”

  “Some.” He moves away from his brother, his movements forced. “I recognize almost everyone here, though I don’t know all of their names.”

  “Who do you know?”

  He points to a dark-haired girl lying to the right of Emmy. “That is Jessie Hostas. Beside her is Robin Drawl.” Cole walks around the outside of the circle and points to another woman—this one quite a bit older than the rest of the group. “That is Fleur Leramy. She was their coven leader.”

  She’s the only one not covered in blood. The only one with her throat still intact. “Do you happen to know where she lived?”

  He nods. “I can take you there.”

  “Good. I need to snap a few photos. I want to show Elijah.” I expect him to ask who the hell Elijah is, but he just nods curtly.

  “That’s fine. I’ll be outside.” Cole turns to leave, and I face the dead.

  “I’ll stop her,” I whisper to them. “I swear it.”

  Every woman in here—besides Fleur—was killed in the exact same way. They all wear white dresses—a symbol of purity, peace—in complete opposition to the manner by which they were killed.

  It makes my stomach churn, my chest tighten, so I quickly take the images I need before following Cole outside.

  He’s standing near his vehicle, cell phone to his ear.

  “He’s letting Josiah know what you found,” Stella says as she takes a drink from her water bottle.

  I nod.

  “Could you feel their pain?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “No, but I will find who did this.” I reach forward to rest my hand on her forearm. “And I will bring them to justice.” I don’t tell her that I fear I know who committed the horrible crime in the warehouse behind us and that, while I promised the dead women I would stop her, I’m not entirely sure I can.

  Stella smiles softly. “I know you will find out. And I look forward to the day.” Before I can remove my hand, she grips it with hers and stares at me. “Oh, child.”

  “What?”

  A chill surges through me even as sweat beads on my skin. All originating from where her hand is touching mine. My mind flashes back to Doloris branding me in Salem, and I fight to pull my hand away.

  Even as I pull, her grip grows tighter.

  “You don’t know what’s coming, do you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She leans in closer, her snow-white eyes wide. “Darkness. You won’t survive it.”

  Finally ripping my hand from her grasp, I stumble backward. Stella shakes her head, her eyes clearing as she looks upon me with sadness.

  “What the fuck does that mean? What darkness?”

  “It is going to swallow you whole, Rainey Astor. And it will consume all those who you hold dear.”

  “What’s going on?” Cole demands as he rushes to my side. He looks from me to Stella, probably trying to figure out who was the offending party.

  “Nothing,” I lie. I’m sure he heard the warning, shifter hearing is on the same level as vampires and hunters, but thankfully he doesn’t press.

  “If you’d like to go see Fleur’s place, we need to do it now. Josiah said word is already spreading, and her
place is going to be swarming with witches looking to collect relics they believe hold any trace of her power.”

  I nod, though I don’t immediately tear my gaze away from Stella.

  Darkness is coming, child.

  Her warning fresh on my mind, I force myself to turn away and head for my motorcycle.

  Fleur’s place is only about five blocks from the warehouse their bodies were discovered in. From the outside, it appears like any other house on the street.

  Pristine siding, green grass, bright floral blooms in boxes near the front door. Hell, her house even has a worn tire swing hanging from a large tree on the lawn.

  But the moment we step over the threshold, I can see just how twisted the coven leader was. Antique photographs are pinned to nearly every inch of her pale-yellow walls. And every single one of them features the same woman—a brunette with dead eyes.

  And I say dead not because she’s actually deceased but because the evil is apparent even in an image of her.

  “Rainey? You may want to take a look at this.”

  I turn toward Cole and focus on the wall directly behind me. “Holy shit.” Images of Delaney and me are scattered over the wall. Some are of us together, some of me at work, going home, at the bar. Hell, she even caught a few of me while I was in disguise.

  “What the hell is she doing with pictures of me?” I reach forward and pull a newspaper clipping from the wall.

  Rookie detective busts drug ring.

  Detective Rainey Astor made local history this afternoon when she uncovered a thread that led to the discovery of the largest cocaine business in Billings’ history. Astor has been an officer with the Billings Police Department for over a decade but just made detective last week.

  The image accompanying the article is one I remember well. Mainly because it had been taken the day I buried my sister. I’m still wearing the black dress I wore to her funeral.

  I’d gone straight to the precinct from the burial and threw myself into work. I’d already submitted for the warrants, and they’d come through that afternoon.

  “Seems she had a thing about you and Del.”

  I glance over at him, unsure why I’m surprised. It seems Delaney knew everybody and told me about none of them. “You knew Delaney?”

  He nods but doesn’t elaborate. “Any idea why Fleur would have these pictures?”

  “I have no clue.” Amongst the photos and newspaper clippings detailing my career is a copy of my birth certificate and a detailed map of the stars on the day I was born. It seems Fleur has been tracking me for my entire life, though I have no damn clue why.

  Why the hell would the head of a witch coven be tracking the birth of a hunter? Could it be because of the Lunar Divide? Because of my ancestral link to the original witch?

  You know why, a voice whispers. You must embrace it.

  I shake my head.

  “You okay?” Cole asks, and I nod.

  “Let’s go see what else this witch knew.” We move deeper into the house, but for the most part, everything else is typical.

  Dishes in the sink, food in the refrigerator. Unmade bed, dirty clothes in the bin.

  Nothing that suggests this woman knew she was going to die. Hell, her coffee mug is still sitting beneath the drip, the timer set to six a.m.

  So either she had no idea she was not coming home, or she made zero preparations, which is possible, but not probable based on my experience. Most of the time, if someone knows they won’t be coming home, there are signs.

  A finalization of what they know.

  It typically only happens with supernaturals—seers in particular.

  I head back through the house toward the garage. As I move, I take note of the framed photos on the walls. After stopping in front of one, in particular, a group shot framed in gold, I study the faces.

  Every single one of the women in the image was at that warehouse.

  Every single one except a woman with short blonde hair at the edge of the photograph. I pull out my phone and take a picture then head toward where Cole called me. I find him staring up at an attic pull-down inside the single-car garage.

  “Smell it?” he asks.

  I inhale deeply, my enhanced senses not picking up anything. “I don’t smell anything.”

  He studies me curiously. “You’re a hunter.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you don’t smell that?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm.” Without elaborating, he grabs the ladder and starts climbing.

  I close my eyes and attempt to sense whatever the hell it is again, but there’s nothing. For good measure, I try to take in the sounds around me, outside of this house.

  But once again, there’s nothing.

  What the hell?

  “You’re going to want to see this,” Cole calls down at me.

  I shove the panic at my seemingly lost senses down, setting it aside for later. Could be a totally normal explanation for the loss of my senses. After all, I did nearly die last night. Maybe the toxin still hasn’t worn off? Or maybe the house is spelled?

  The old wooden ladder creaks as I climb. When I get to the top, Cole offers me his hand, but I ignore it and climb onto the wooden platform. The place is pitch black, which is unusual. No streaks of sunshine sneak through vents that should have been present to keep the airflow in the attic.

  “I can’t see anything.”

  Cole taps the screen of his cell phone, and light floods the room.

  My mouth falls open, my heart rate rapidly increasing as I take in the disturbing sight before me.

  Ashen-white bones cover every inch of the surrounding walls. They’ve been meticulously organized, care and effort taken to line the entire attic space, running from the floor to the ceiling. A chill runs up my spine, the feeling akin to what I imagine people feel descending into a catacomb. Only there, you expect to see bones.

  “You couldn’t smell the death?” Cole asks, and I shake my head. “You can’t sense their power?” he asks.

  “No. What were they?”

  “Witches, shifters, vampire—” He trails off and inhales, his cognac eyes brightening with the shifter power in his blood. “I even sense a fae.” He steps forward on the wooden platform of the room. “I’ve heard rumors of dark witches gaining power from bones, but I’ve never seen it.”

  “How the hell did she manage to capture and kill this many supernaturals and not end up on the Immortal Council’s radar?”

  “It’s possible that she found them already dead,” he says. “She wouldn’t have had to be the one to make the kill in order to capitalize on it.” He glances around, his light shining over the dead. “There must be over three dozen bodies up here. And based on the scent? Not all of them have been dead long enough to warrant only being bone. She must have stripped them magically.”

  “Witches can do that?” I’ve never heard of the ability to dissolve skin, muscle, or any other tissue, but based on the number of bones here—I can’t imagine that was the difficult part.

  Especially if Cole is right and there’s a fucking fae. How would she have managed to get her hands on a fae?

  “Dark witches can do just about anything,” he tells me. “And Fleur was into some dark shit.” He uses his phone light to creep forward toward an altar on the opposite side of the room.

  “Careful,” I warn and pull out my own cell. “I’m calling Elijah, he needs to see this.”

  “Is everything all right?” Elijah asks on the first ring.

  “I’m fine, but I have something you’re going to want to see. Can I text you the address?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “Great. I’ll do it now. Get here as soon as you can. We’re in the garage attic.” I end the call and fire off a text with the address before returning to my study of the room. Death lingers in this place, its chilling fingers wrapped around each one of these bones.

  And while I may not have my enhanced senses, I don’t need them to know that thes
e souls did not die peacefully, and they sure as hell aren’t at rest now.

  “Rainey?”

  I jump. “Shit, Elijah. How the hell did you do that?” Turning, I shine my light over him just as he’s climbing the attic steps.

  “I ran.”

  “You’re going to get spotted one of these days.”

  “Unlikely. What the fuck is this place?”

  “You sense it too?” Cole asks.

  Elijah nods. “You belong to Josiah’s pack?”

  “I do.”

  “Cole met me at a crime scene this morning,” I fill him in. “Thirteen dead witches and one dead shifter.”

  “Thirteen?”

  “Thirteen,” I confirm and pull up my phone to show him the images from the scene. Elijah studies them, face taut. “Sacrificial ritual,” he says tightly. “I’ve only ever seen one that size, and it sent an entire village into ruin.”

  “The only woman without her throat cut is Fleur Leramy. This is her house.”

  Turning his attention away from the images I took earlier, he begins to move about the attic space, examining it using the beam of Cole’s phone light. “So many dead,” he whispers. “Shifter, vampire, witch—”

  “Fae,” Cole adds. “There’s fae up here too.”

  “Fuck. How did she get her hands on fae bones?”

  “My guess is she somehow stumbled onto it when it was already dead. I knew Fleur, albeit not well, but I doubt she’d have the power to take on a fae and survive.”

  “All that power released into Billings.” Elijah turns to me. “How do you feel?”

  “Fine, why?”

  “You nearly died last night,” he says nonchalantly, but his eyes avert quickly, something not typical of the man I’ve grown to know. I stare at him as he turns away. What are you keeping from me?

  “Motherfucker,” Cole growls.

  I rush over toward him, Elijah beside me, and stare down at the book centered on the altar. It’s a list of names, most of which I don’t recognize. “What are these?”