Stryke (New Vampire Disorder Book 4)

by Marie Johnston

  “Your secret is safe with me, Q.” Stryke ran a fang over his palm to open a narrow wound and held it out to Quution.

  Quution recoiled, his mouth drawn down. “Are we bonding?”

  “Just making a deal. I help you get rid of Hypna, you make me your second-tier.”

  Suspicion hadn’t left Quution’s gaze. “And you protect my position?”

  “We watch each other’s backs. It’s what brothers do… I guess.”

  Blood dripped from Stryke’s palm, but Quution still didn’t hold his hand out. “Why? I tried to kill you and your female.”

  His female. Sounded right but was oh so wrong. Stryke took a breath to figure out his response. He went with honesty. “What else am I going to do?”

  “Ah, desperation.” Quution sliced his fang into his palm and smacked it against Stryke’s. “That’s something I can work with, but I must tell you, power’s not the reason I’m doing this. Come, I’ll show you.”

  His brother limped out of his cavern and Stryke eyed him. If not power, why? He trailed after Quution’s ridiculous swagger. Whatever influenced his brother would now influence him. He shook his head. Had history just repeated itself?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Zoey finished her report. Demetrius leaned against the wall of the garage bay. Rourke, Bishop, and Creed surrounded her. Zoey hadn’t bothered to call a meeting, just popped in and announced to the camera that everyone needed to convene in the garage.

  “So, what’s going on here?” She tried to keep her tone light but sounded dismal nonetheless.

  “Zoey…” Demetrius started and from the pity in his voice, she didn’t want to hear it.

  She held her hand up. “What’s going on here?”

  “The Blanchettes and Melody are in house,” Creed filled in. “D’s parents aren’t going to stay here, but they’re on guard and will flash here as soon as they feel threatened.”

  Creed spoke so matter-of-factly, like he was so over her. She hadn’t come back hoping to rekindle anything, hadn’t planned to feed her ego on Creed pining after her. But damn, he was done with her.

  Would Stryke move on that quickly? Whatever. If he did, it was none of her business.

  She was such a liar.

  Steeling herself, she eased her mind back to work. That was what she’d betrayed Stryke for.

  No, she hadn’t betrayed him. She hadn’t asked for the damn bond in the first place.

  Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Would she believe it one day?

  The only way to redeem herself to…well, herself, was to dive back into work.

  “Zoey?” Demetrius pushed off the wall and walked slowly toward her, like she was a skittish colt.

  Way to come back, roaring to prove yourself competent. Space out within ten minutes.

  “Are you okay?” Bishop asked. “Really okay?”

  Bitterness crashed into her. The guy who got to keep his demon asked if she was okay.

  Don’t think like that! She wasn’t Stryke’s, dammit. She had her purpose and it wasn’t to turn over her life’s work for a male.

  She’d thrown the bracelet on Stryke and demanded he release her so she could feel in control again. Nothing about this moment felt like she had any control, and she struggled to find a way to give the power back to herself.

  “I have a blood disorder.” As soon the words left her mouth, she wanted to swallow them back up. Her way to take the reins back was to blurt her major secret and weakness? But only Stryke had known and she couldn’t leave it at that.

  The males all stared at her.

  “Is this new?” Rourke asked in his typical dry manner.

  Zoey could’ve hugged him. He was just Rourke. This was her team and they should know a variable about her that could be life-threatening for them. They relied on each other in the field. “It’s why I drink Gatorade all the time, eat processed foods—I’m naturally low on electrolytes.”

  Demetrius’s face twisted. “Uck, your thing with the pickles and bone broth?” He shuddered. “And here I thought those days were done. All right. Give us the details.”

  Her mouth twitched. She’d been terribly selfish to keep a secret like this from these guys. “I need to constantly replenish myself, even with a steady blood supply.”

  Bishop crossed his arms. “Blood doesn’t satisfy your disorder?”

  Zoey shook her head. “Only—” She clamped her mouth shut and bowed her head.

  “Stryke’s,” Demetrius finished. “He supplied the energy you lacked.”

  She nodded, couldn’t speak past the tightness in her throat.

  Bishop slapped a meaty paw on her shoulder. “Well, that sucks.”

  She snorted and patted his hand. Her thoughts exactly.

  “But, Zoey,” he leaned down and spoke gently, “he held too much power over you with the bond and his blood. A relationship must be equal.”

  Hellfire, Bishop could nail the undercurrent of an emotion. Blinking back the burn of tears, she refused to cry in front of anyone. “Anyway, I don’t think he’s a threat to us. He’s the most ambivalent creature I’ve ever met.”

  “A male like that won’t lay down and die,” Demetrius said. “He’ll find another cause to stroll behind until things aren’t looking his way again.”

  The way Bishop and Demetrius spoke painted Stryke in a whole new light, but it’d confirmed to Zoey that she’d done the right thing. She couldn’t be Stryke’s everything, and he couldn’t be hers.

  Zoey cleared her throat to keep her voice from cracking. “So that’s done. I guess I should ask if I should find another place to stay.”

  “Why? Like I’m going to kick you off the team for that after we’ve worked together for decades.” Demetrius shook his head. “Fuck, Zoey. No. Okay, here’s the update. Hypna’s tried to hit us once here, she’ll do it again. Her vampire host, Yancy, slipped out of her restraints and was gone by the time we went back for her. Probably had more humans helping her, or Hypna sent her second-tiers to free her. Who the hell knows, but she’s gone. Creed’s already put up some surprises in the trees and a couple of extra cameras.”

  Creed pinched the bridge of his nose. “Those kids, though. Melody’s gotta watch them better.”

  Zoey’s brows shot up. Never had she heard so much censure from him.

  A muscle tensed in Rourke’s jaw. “Melody and Grace’s parents are watching them every second.”

  “Obviously not.” Creed’s voice rose and he closed his eyes briefly before resuming. “They’ve gotten out twice already, and the way Melody rushes out after them gives me a damn heart attack.”

  “Yeah,” Rourke’s right eye twitched, “and you yelling at her totally helped.”

  Creed threw his hands up. “Instead of two kids to worry about, now I have to corral a frantic human. Meanwhile, the kids are flashing to their home and all over the fucking woods to play hide and seek.”

  Zoey listened to the two bicker about Creed’s treatment of Melody. Had she only been gone two nights? She’d come back and the dynamics had changed. Rourke and Creed were butting heads. Creed and Melody had drama, apparently.

  Demetrius and Bishop exchanged looks like this argument was getting old.

  Zoey sighed and squared her shoulders. “All right. D, you and I need to notify the rest of the Synod and update them. I’m staying.” The words left an acrid stain on her taste buds. “Creed, afterward, I need to be updated on the changes.” She spun on her heel to head to her apartment. “I need fifteen minutes, D, and I’ll meet you in your office. Rourke, maybe Grace should have her brother over for a fun sleepover, then the next night, have Ari over. That way, you can divide and conquer the kids. Bishop, stay cool.”

  Bishop coughed a laugh. She wasn’t used to being the one cracking jokes, either, not anymore. As she breezed into the empty hallway, her smile faded. She was going to her empty apartment.

  How had she never noticed how empty her life was before? Work had fulfilled her as much as it could in her w
idowed state. And it had. Just not anymore.

  She charged into her apartment and slammed the door. In her bedroom, she dropped to her knees and wrestled a plastic tub out from under the bed. Ripping the top off, she tensed, ready for the memories to assault her.

  On the top of the clothing packed away was her favorite nightshirt. Mitchell had joked about petting her pussy whenever she wore it. On the front was an outline of a fancy, white cat. The image was filled with downy soft fur that was fluffier than the rest of the fleece material. Sleep was heaven in that thing.

  She ruffled through the rest of her items and gave up. Heaving them out of the box, she plopped them on the bed, then sorted each item into piles. Finding space in her drawers wasn’t hard. She chuffed quietly to herself. Like the rest of her life, her furniture was empty, too.

  Once the task was done, she stared at her dresser for a few minutes. What had she been expecting—a profound change in her mentality?

  Disgusted with herself, she stomped into the bathroom. At least her appearance wasn’t as ghastly as she’d feared. Most of her hair was secured in the bun and she had a few smudges of black on her face. All the damage had been on the inside, in so many ways.

  She washed her hands and watched the water carry the grime away, swirling down the drain. The water ran clear for several seconds before she switched off the faucet. But she didn’t move. Her gaze was riveted on the empty sink. It rinsed clean. Why couldn’t she?

  Because she wasn’t made out of porcelain. Stryke had gotten to her.

  She backed up to the wall and sank to the floor.

  He’d constantly put her first, not just with her body, but with her wants and needs. At times, it’d seemed like he’d known her better than she did. Her mind argued the reasons why—deception, underhandedness, trickery. But the part of herself she’d lost when Mitchell died, Stryke had fought for. And it wasn’t from guilt. The only guilt she’d sensed from Stryke was how much his actions would hurt her.

  She pressed her palms against her eyes. But Bishop was right. The demon’s single-minded obsession with her wasn’t healthy. She couldn’t trust it. He’d given her the gift of discovering that her life didn’t need to be an isolated endeavor filled only with duty and work, but she couldn’t accept a male who didn’t fight for a cause. Especially not one from the underworld. So many reasons to fight against oppression and evil, and he’d just coasted through until he’d seen her.

  Blowing out a hard breath, she put her hands on the countertop and heaved herself up, feeling like she’d tripled in weight.

  She scrubbed her face, straightened her hair, and brushed off her clothes. Adjusting her gear, she gave herself a steely-eyed look of determination. It was time to get back to work.

  ***

  Quution hovered in the shadows and made room for Stryke to sneak a peek. The chamber Quution had brought him to was unnaturally dark. They lived in a dark world already, but one of the Circle had gone out of their way to conceal what was held here. Where torches lined the walls of the rest of the underworld, they were missing here. The energy of several wards traveled up and down his spine. In addition to being hidden away in the maze of the underworld and left with no chance of light, this chamber was guarded.

  “Lest you think you’re the only reason I want to destroy Hypna, Brother.”

  Quution managed to always sneer at that word, like he didn’t want to get used to it. Stryke didn’t care either way. He was back to the days where all the fucks he gave couldn’t fill the palm of his hand.

  Or was he? Part of him had to admit he wasn’t just here out of curiosity.

  “All I had to do was threaten a tiny part of Hypna’s world and she turned to this.” Quution extended his hand and wiggled his fingers. He’d donned another set of fake claws and they waggled as Q manipulated the wards around the cave to send a tiny energy ball shimmering into the middle of the open expanse.

  Stryke jolted. The place was larger than he’d anticipated, but that wasn’t what shocked him enough to rock him back on his feet. The place was littered with bones. Tiny little bones that had belonged to small humanoid beings.

  “Babies,” he breathed. Nothing Stryke had witnessed in his life sickened him as much as the sight before him. Piles and piles of baby skeletons were stacked as if they’d been discarded without thought, which was likely true. Various stages of rot were evident in the top layer of corpses. A rectangular, rust-covered platform rose from the floor in the middle of the cavern.

  Bile crawled up his throat. Demons consumed without discretion. If these had been human babies, there’d be little left, but human babies were more trouble than they were worth, a horde of humans hunting for the baby snatchers when the little things were only a mouthful.

  These remains were second-tier babies.

  Quution stepped forward, his expression as grim as the situation. Stryke eyed him with clarity. This had been a test. How much would Stryke give a shit? He doubted Quution would’ve reneged on the deal they’d made, but Stryke’s status would’ve been more of a gofer than a partner.

  “I stumbled across this after I recovered from our sire’s attack.” Quution slowly swung his hand in an arc to highlight every morbid stack of remains. “The first thing that struck me was that not even the scarabs had cleaned up the leftovers because the chamber had been warded so well against bugs—why? Perhaps the wards were meant to keep everything out, or they were afraid of what was in here getting out. Unlikely, given the victims. I determined they were afraid of their secret leaking. After all, even demons would question their own young being murdered and not consumed.”

  “Yes, why not consume them and hide the evidence altogether?” Stryke wanted to gag just asking, but he had to make sense of what had gone on here and Quution seemed to have worked through all the answers.

  A gleam darkened Quution’s lilac eyes. “As gluttonous as our kind can be, not even they can eat this much without hurting their girly figures.”

  Stryke nodded. “What about the parents? With all the young in here—we’d have too many second-tiers missing.”

  “Unless they’re in on it. More power for their Circle member, more benefits for the servant.”

  That was despicable. “There’s only a handful of beings involved then.”

  “I’ve pinned Hypna, of course. After her brother’s demise at Fyra’s hand, she’s been frantic to seize power. But it’s not just her. This is one of the secrets all Circle members are initiated into. However,” Quution stabbed his finger in the air, “I was not—my power already threatens them. I refused to be patient. I can’t put a stop to this if I don’t know enough about it.”

  Stryke glowered at the platform that must be the alter for sacrifice. Bits of information clicked into place. “This is why the Circle has made such progress infiltrating the human realm in the last few decades. They’ve been stealing second-tier babies to harvest power from them.”

  Quution’s casual shrug wasn’t what Stryke had expected. “Part of that is the vampires’ own hunger for power. But it doesn’t change that the thirteen need a prime vampire host who can handle their power. They still have to be summoned, and if they walk the realm in their own bodies, well, what dies in another realm stays dead. But,” he flashed a sly grin, “I would guess their plans for all-world domination would be expedited if they didn’t need the approval of their host, if they could, essentially, do what you do, only with more force and less finesse.”

  Those greedy bastards. When images of him being poisoned and secured in Hypna’s dungeon bombarded his brain, he froze. “They aren’t just stealing the babies. They’re birthing them just to sacrifice them, like their own sacrificial factory.”

  “Ding, ding, ding. What better way to keep it on the down-low? We might assume they ate their own young but not sacrificed them to absorb their powers. Demons don’t mind a little cannibalism, but don’t you dare try to get ahead by stealing powers.”

  A moment of panic burned through Stryke’s g
ut. “I’m still Hypna’s servant until you officially transition control.” Fuck, he hated feeling this damn powerless, would love to cut ties to the underworld altogether. Hellfire, he would abandon every other second-tier without a second thought, but not babies. Blame his rough start in life for making him a softie where vulnerable creatures were concerned.

  This practice couldn’t be allowed to go on. The mounds of bones mocked him. The complete disregard for life. All this had been going on under his nose. His own brand of energy demon was becoming rare. Was it because they were being killed for their power?

  Quution grinned around his prosthetic fangs. “We know Hypna won’t give up. Once she learns you’re no longer bonded, she’ll render the underworld to ash to get with your child. But that problem will solve itself when we kill her.”

  “We kill them all and create our own Circle?” That plan would be an instant death sentence if any of the other twelve caught wind. Hypna might be a one and done, but once the others started to fall, Q and Stryke’s longevity would be instantly shortened.

  Q’s smile turned wicked. “It’ll get easier as we implant our own members on the Circle. Sprinkle in a few second-tiers and I doubt they’ll take kindly to their babies being power factories.”

  Stryke rolled a droll look toward his brother. “I’m not as confident in the altruism of my brethren.” Once the oppressed population of the underworld sniffed a way to get ahead, they wouldn’t give it up.

  “You and I are horrified. You’re friends with Fyra, a former second-tier. What would she think?”

  Stryke chewed the inside of his cheek. Sweet brimstone, could they really pull this off?

  Quution lightly patted him on the shoulder, keeping the sound down to not set off the wards. “We only need a few strong, morally solid-ish members to plant on the Circle. Then we can keep balance down here and,” Q pointed to the ceiling, “up there.”

  “And we’d spend our life defending this realm and the creatures down here. We’ve never had a government with that goal before.”