Dark Warrior Unbroken

by Alexis Morgan

  Sean was darned tired of arguing. “I’m sorry, Tara, I know I promised I’d stay in, but that’s not happening. I’ve got to go out. Now.” He snatched his jacket from the hook by the door and yanked it on. “I won’t be gone long.”

  Tara, clearly distressed, tried to get between him and the door. “No, Sean. I can’t let you go out like this. Remember, you’re the one who made me promise to stop you whenever your control was this bad.”

  “Oh, yeah, I was really thinking clearly when I said that.” He tried an end run around her, but she anticipated the move and blocked him again. She knew he’d never in his right mind raise a hand against her. Trouble was, right now he wasn’t even close to being in his right mind.

  “Tara, I need to feed! How the hell am I supposed to get what I need if I stay in here?”

  “Feed from me.” She tried to cup his face between her hands, but he ducked out of reach.

  “Fuck that. I know you only want to help, but it’s not enough, Tara. Not anymore.”

  He backed away, putting some breathing room between them. “It used to work, but now it’s like offering a starving man a handful of crumbs. I’d strip your supply completely, and I won’t risk that happening.”

  She flinched, as if his words had been a physical blow. He’d hurt her feelings, but right then he couldn’t care. His body was screaming so loudly that there was no room for anything but the need to survive, no matter what the cost or who he hurt. He had to feed off somebody, to the point of almost draining them dry, and the threat to Tara and Kenny increased with each second he was caged up inside.

  He forced his next words out through gritted teeth, breathing hard as if he was running for his life. “I’ve got…to go…before…I hurt…one of you.”

  Tara’s sweet eyes filled with grief. “Go, then. But come back to us as soon as you can.”

  He couldn’t lie to her. “Can’t promise. If I kill…”

  His throat choked closed. He pressed a rough kiss to Tara’s cheek, knowing it might be the last time he saw her.

  He tasted her salty tears on his lips as he turned toward the poorer part of town, sure he’d find a donor there.

  Victim was what he really meant. His fingers curled up as if they were claws ready to rip out some poor bastard’s throat. Relishing the thought of it, he knew he was too far gone. He shoved his hands in his pockets, hoping to hide his true nature until the last possible second.

  His hunt didn’t take long. The night breeze carried the musty smell of an unwashed human body. Judging by the strength of the scent, his prey was nearby, huddled in the darkest shadows along the building ahead. Sean’s muscles cramped from the need to feed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. If he didn’t get some energy soon, he’d be reduced to crawling. He paused before crossing the street to where a dark form stretched out along the foundation of a warehouse.

  A passed-out drunk wouldn’t be much fun, no matter how badly Sean needed a hit of energy. Maybe he could harvest enough to reestablish some control, then prowl the city looking for a victim who’d be more of a challenge.

  Wait. What was that noise? Tilting his head from one side to the other, Sean listened hard. Was that a footstep echoing behind him? He’d been so focused on his hunt that he hadn’t paid close attention to his surroundings—stupid.

  Usually he didn’t have much to fear from other predators roaming the streets. Most of the time they sensed their fellow killers and gave them wide berth. But there was always someone out there who could take him out in a heartbeat and smile while they did it.

  Although Sean’s body screamed in protest, he made an abrupt right turn and walked a hundred feet before stopping with no warning. No sound of nearby footsteps; no movement in the shadows. He cut across the street at a sharp angle that led him to the corner of the warehouse. From there, he’d check all directions one last time for unwanted company before feeding.

  All clear.

  Kneeling by the pile of old blankets, Sean ignored the stench as he latched on to the back of the sleeping man’s neck. The energy was slow in coming, no doubt due to the empty gin bottle nearby. It took considerable effort, but he was finally able to establish a steady flow. Despite the taint of the man’s disease and near starvation, Sean harvested enough to soothe the jagged edges of his cravings.

  He staggered back to his feet, sick from the crappy quality of his meal, but proud of his control. The snoring bastard didn’t realize how lucky he was to be alive. As he walked away, Sean looked back over his shoulder with a shudder. He could very well end up sleeping on the streets himself if his control didn’t improve.

  Back to the hunt. As he walked along doing his best to look harmless, he imagined the perfect main course, now that he’d had his appetizer. Someone young and strong with the kind of energy that flowed thick and sweet through his muscles and blood, warming everything in its path.

  An hour later, he was still hunting. He’d considered and rejected half a dozen candidates. As hungry as he was for their life force, he had enough willpower left to savor his sense of superiority, knowing the choice was his to make. Some stranger’s fate was his to decide.

  Anticipation was everything, now.

  Up ahead he spotted a definite possibility. Male. Young. A big guy, the kind who carried his size like a weapon, confident in his ability to take on all comers. Poor bastard—that was about to change. The target probably had fifty, sixty pounds on Sean, but muscle power didn’t always translate as strength against Sean’s abilities. One touch, and they’d both know who was the one to be feared.

  Sean hurried his footsteps, grateful that his running shoes made next to no noise on the rough concrete sidewalk. He could probably outrun his chosen one, but he wanted a discreet takedown. The last thing he needed was a crowd while he stripped the cocky jerk bare of his ability to swagger home. When Sean was done with him, he wouldn’t have the strength left to stand.

  Sean narrowed the distance between them, but the timing had to be just right. In this part of town he couldn’t risk feeding out on the sidewalk, as he had with the drunk. The attack had to be as close to the mouth of that alley ahead as possible. He sprinted forward, hugging the building, using the shadows to disguise his approach.

  But if nature gave predators the skills necessary to survive, she’d also kept the playing field level. Before Sean could make his final approach, his intended victim did an abrupt about-face and stopped. Sean kept moving, knowing that if he even slowed down it would raise suspicions. He nodded at the guy and briefly made eye contact as he kept going until he reached the corner. Ordinarily he would have crossed against the light, but right now he was content to be a law-abiding citizen.

  His ploy evidently reassured the guy enough to start walking again, but he was far more attentive to his surroundings than he had been before. Taking him down now would be harder but not impossible, and Sean relished the greater challenge. The guy had almost reached the corner when the light changed and Sean started across the street, looking for another possible site for his feeding. Even an unlighted doorway would do, although the risk of discovery would be higher.

  Just ahead was a staircase that led down to some kind of small shop in the basement level. Perfect. He stopped to relieve himself against a wall, a habit common to late-night drunks and the homeless. He deliberately turned around as his target passed by.

  The man shot him a disgusted look. “Damn, man, zip it up.”

  “Sorry, man. I couldn’t wait.” Sean slurred the words, reinforcing the drunken image. “Hey, buddy, you wouldn’t have twenty bucks you could lend me, do ya?”

  He hurried after the guy, who predictably did his best to avoid any contact. Sean charged after him, using his momentum to carry the bigger man down and to the right, and they tumbled down the stairs to a small landing.

  The guy came up swinging his fists. “Get away from me, you crazy little fucker!”

  Sean ducked the blow, glad that the confines of the staircase limited the guy�
�s ability to maneuver. Normally Sean wasn’t one to play with his food, but tonight, each time he managed to get a hand on his opponent, he drew off enough energy to gradually leave the guy staggering.

  His coordination fading rapidly, the bigger man soon stopped fighting altogether and backed away. For the first time, he looked afraid. “What are you doing to me? What do you want?” He slumped down on the steps, still conscious, but too weak to move.

  Sean knelt beside him and ran his fingers across the man’s cheek, loving the way his victim shuddered in revulsion. “What’s your name?”

  “Randall.”

  Leaning in close, Sean whispered, “Well, Randall, I’ll tell you what I want. I want your essence.” He closed his eyes, savoring the sweet taste of high-octane fear.

  Was this what it felt like to get stoned? If so, he could understand the appeal. His new buddy Randall had fallen silent, his body folding in on itself as his strength rapidly faded. Sean snickered. Randall had strutted through town like he owned the whole fucking place; now he was just a pile of nothing.

  All of a sudden, they were no longer alone. A pair of familiar feet appeared at Sean’s eye level. Son of a bitch, why was Kenny running loose at this hour of the night?

  “Go home, kid—this is none of your business. And Tara won’t like your being here.” God, his stomach was churning. Maybe he should have eaten some real food before hunting.

  “Tara doesn’t know. After you left, she went to bed looking scared and upset. I waited until she cried herself to sleep before sneaking out to find you.” Kenny knew better than to touch Sean’s skin directly, but he got a grip on the back of Sean’s jacket and gave it a strong yank. “Come on, Sean. Let go of him. You’ve had enough. Leave some for him. Remember? Like you told me the other night—dazed but not dead.”

  Sean tried to bat the kid away. “Go away. My business. Not yours.”

  “I’m making it my business. You kill that guy, and the police will be all over us.” Kenny struggled to get Sean up onto his feet. “Come on, it’s time to go home. We both know how much Tara will worry until she knows you’re okay.”

  “Can’t go home. Too dangerous for her. You, too. Want to kill somebody.” Sean staggered to his feet to face Kenny.

  For a skinny kid, Kenny was proving to be hard to evade. It didn’t help that the whole world had decided to rock and roll beneath Sean’s feet as he pulled himself up the stairs with Kenny still holding on to his collar.

  “Come on, Sean. We need to get out of here. The cops cruise this area a lot.”

  The situation suddenly hit Sean as funny. His laughter sounded odd, out of control and shrill, but he couldn’t seem to stop. Kenny pulled Sean’s arm up around his shoulders and helped to keep him steady as they trudged down the street.

  “Uh, Sean? Could you pipe down a bit? We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves right now.”

  “Okay, shhhhh,” Sean muttered, holding up his finger across his lips. “I’ll be quiet. Just put me down so I can sleep.”

  “When we get home.”

  Why wasn’t the kid listening? “Can’t go there, Kenny. Not safe. Don’t want to hurt you or Tara.”

  Kenny let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, I know, you’re the badass killer. But you still have a lot left to teach me, and you promised. Besides, I’m not going to take on all your chores just because you want to go on a rampage. So shut up and keep walking.”

  Sean had left something important behind. What was it? Oh, yeah—not what. Who. He tried to turn back toward the staircase. “What about my friend Randall? He tasted so good. You should try him.”

  Kenny jerked Sean back around. “Thanks for the offer, but you’ve had enough for both of us. Now keep moving. We need to get home before someone finds him.”

  “Okay.” Sean started laughing again. God, he wished he could stop. “We could go back and wrap him in plastic wrap like we do leftovers. You know, save him for later.”

  Kenny laughed, but kept hauling Sean in the direction of their apartment. “Gee, Sean, that’s a great idea. When we get back to the apartment, I’ll see if we have enough plastic wrap.”

  Sean smiled. “That’ll be good. Tara will like not having to fix dinner.”

  “Sure, she’s going to be real happy about all this. She’ll be dancing in the streets when I tell her what happened.”

  For the first time since plugging into Randall’s flow of energy, Sean’s mind started to clear. What the hell had happened?

  He asked the first question that popped into his head. “How did you find me, Kenny?”

  “I followed your scent. It wasn’t hard to do.”

  “You’re too young to be wandering around the city this late at night. I should kick your ass for sneaking out.” He would, too, as soon as he could walk without Kenny’s help. “Remind me to do that first thing tomorrow.”

  “Sure, that’ll be right at the top of my To Do list. Keep walking—we’re almost there.”

  They finally turned onto their street and entered their apartment building. As they staggered down the dim hallway, Sean blinked several times. There was definitely a feminine form outlined in the doorway. Crap, this couldn’t be good.

  “Uh-oh, Kenny. Looks like Tara’s up.”

  “Looks like.” Kenny chuckled. “And for once, she’s going to be more upset with you than with me. I can’t wait to hear what she has to say to you.”

  Sean frowned. There had to be other options. “Maybe we can sleep outside tonight. Tell her we’re having a campout.”

  “Ain’t gonna happen. Time to face the music, killer. You might kick my butt tomorrow, but tonight you’re going to be the one with bruises.”

  There was no escaping the inevitable. Sean pulled himself free of Kenny’s grip. If he had to come crawling home, he was going to do it standing on his own two feet.

  The dream started well enough. Lena was hanging with the guys at the fire station, waiting for the next call to come in. None of them liked paperwork and used any excuse to avoid it. Right then, they were taking turns flipping playing cards into Coop’s boot. She’d just had a run of five in a row. Ha! Let them beat that.

  Coop’s worn face was creased in a smile. The pencil pushing would get done eventually, but he was the first to admit that sometimes they needed to play. Once they blew off some steam, they’d get back to business.

  Suddenly the clock on the wall started spinning and spinning. Then random images flashed in front of her eyes, fading as fast as they came. They started with the fire, the big one where three people died. She’d tried so hard to solve that case without using her secret talent. Sometimes peeking at a scene with it helped, but she couldn’t solve cases with knowledge that she couldn’t document or explain.

  With the big fire, though, temptation had proved too strong, and she’d cheated. Because of her weakness, more people had died. Her fault. Her fault. Her fault. The refrain of blame would end if she could wake up, but when she was awake, Coop was dead and buried, draining her life of joy.

  Yet this time, her awakening was different. When she stirred, a strong arm shifted, pulling her closer to a banked fire, where she was warm, safe, and protected. She surfaced long enough to recognize the source: Sandor. Her lips curved in a contented smile. Her lover had been amazing in his determination to please her.

  He’d kissed her long and hard and in places she’d never been kissed with such focused intensity. The sex had been way better than good, from that first hurried coupling when they’d barely shoved clothing out of their way, until the last time, when they’d been too tired to do more than move slowly and savor the experience.

  She cuddled closer against Sandor’s side, hovering in the world between dreams and reality. She breathed in his scent and smiled at the tattoo on his bicep. She’d seen something like it once before, but she was too sleepy to remember where. Why had he chosen such an odd design? She softly traced its outline with a fingertip and felt a slight buzz. How strange. Curious, she trie
d it again, this time covering the incredibly detailed tattoo with the palm of her hand.

  As soon as her skin flattened against his, a terrible darkness, roiling and blacker than black, roared up to suck her down into a nightmare world. Tentacles of pain and fear with a touch of madness plucked at her, pinning her down and holding her prisoner. She couldn’t move, couldn’t run, couldn’t breathe; couldn’t even close her eyes as a horror show played out in her head. Animals suffered. Fires flamed hot and then faded, each bigger than the last.

  People dancing, dancing, frantic and terrified as the walls around them dissolved into flame. One bright light, cool and soothing, led the dance. The fire screamed out its fury at being cheated of its due as one by one the dancers disappeared into the light.

  The fire finally burned out, leaving only the skeleton of a building. A single man wandered through the bones, jotting down notes, taking pictures, reading the story carved into the remains by the heat and the hatred. Coop. God, she knew what happened next. She’d watched it all play out when she visited the arson site, but this time she wasn’t a mere observer. Now she was seeing Coop through the eyes of his killer.

  She tried to scream out a warning, but she could only whimper as the killer’s hand—no, her hand—lashed out to knife her friend. The sick sat isfaction from watching Coop die in the ashes horrified her soul, while the arsonist soaked it in with such joy.

  It got worse. A woman’s agonizing death, then a boy’s. She screamed in her sleep. Their spirits remained trapped in the hell of their torment, because their killer swallowed their pain as he used them as test subjects to prepare for his real targets. Finally, gloating and bloated with darkness, he stood ready to fight. His opponents filed into a small room, one by one. People she recognized. Kerry Thorsen. Ranulf Thorsen. And Sandor Kearn.

  She ached to scream, to warn them of the monster they faced, but they already knew. The terrible knowledge was written in their grim expressions and their determination to fight. An old woman appeared at Lena’s feet, more dead than alive, yet she still burned with the same blue light that had fought the flames in the dance club.