“Call me, call the police, call anyone,” said Lyle. “Just get some help, girly.”
I’d kept that cell phone with me. A lifeline. And as Jacob tore apart our home and sang that goddamned song at the top of his lungs, I dialed 911.
“I know you’re in here, oh, darling wife,” called Jacob as he stumbled into the bedroom. The song ended, but Jacob had looped it, so snap, snap, snap . . . Bobby Darin began again, belting out the tune about the criminal Mack.
My heart hammered in my chest and perspiration dotted my face, dripped down my neck. Terror scrabbled through me like a plague-ridden rat, piercing my insides with tiny, sharp claws.
Glory pressed her face against my shoulder. She’d never seen Jacob in a full rage. I’d managed to protect her. During my pregnancy and for two whole years, I’d made sure her father never laid a hand on her.
I wanted to leave Jacob. Lyle was going to help me escape. I just needed some time, some money. And now, as Jacob’s heavy military boots stomped across the wood floor, I realized I’d been crazy to stay. Even another minute. What was wrong with me? I’d put myself and my daughter in danger. For what?
Oh, God.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” asked a female voice.
“My husband is going to hurt me. I have a toddler, and we’re hiding in the closet. Please help us. Please.”
“Stay calm, ma’am. I’m dispatching officers to your location.”
Knock, knock, knock. “Ooooooh, Siiiimoooone. Sweet, sweet Simone. You’ve been a very bad wife. Kitchen’s a mess. So’s the living room. And no dinner?” He made a tsking sound.
I knew that sloppy tone. My heart turned over in my chest. Shit. Oh, shit. He’d been drinking. Nausea roiled as I clutched my daughter. Dealing with Jacob drunk was a hundred times worse than when he was just pissed off.
The doorknob rattled. There was no lock on the closet. Jacob was taking his time, tormenting me, leading up to the big show. It would be my fault. I hadn’t cleaned the house well enough, I hadn’t made dinner on time, or I hadn’t recorded his favorite show. Was it so much to ask for me to be nice to him? Didn’t he provide for us? Didn’t he work hard to give me a nice home, pretty clothes, quality food? I’d heard his justifications a thousand times.
The 911 operator was still talking. I didn’t shut the phone. I put it down, out of sight.
Glory’s sniffles turned to wails. I patted her back. “Ssshh, baby. It’s gonna be okay.”
The lie felt thick on my tongue. Whatever happened to me, I had to make sure that Glory was okay.
The door swung open.
Silhouetted in the doorway was Jacob. He swayed, grabbing the frame with one hand. In the other was a half-empty bottle of Cuervo Gold. He was so tall, so broad and muscled, and handsome. Dark hair, dark eyes, slanted cheekbones, pouty lips. Underneath those devilish good looks was a real devil.
“Look what you’ve done,” he crooned. “You’ve scared our little girl. Made her cry. Such a bad mother. I should take her away. Give her to someone who’ll love her proper.”
“Over. My. Dead. Body.”
“What? What did you say?” He grabbed me by the hair and pulled. Pain raked my scalp and I screamed. I reached up and clawed his hand with my nails.
He was so stunned that I’d resisted, he let go and stared down at me. His eyes were glazed. And he smelled like he’d been rolling in garbage.
I pried Glory off me and put her down. Her arms reached up, her hands trying to latch on again. She was sobbing and chanting, “Mama, mama, mama.”
I stood up and shoved Jacob backward. The tequila bottle sloshed, and he laughed as he righted himself. “Look who’s grown a pair of balls.”
“That makes one of us,” I said.
His eyes went cold. “You owe me an apology.” He pointed the bottle at me. “Shouldn’t question my manhood. Maybe I need to show ya I’m all man. Whatcha think about that, you stupid little bitch?”
I didn’t answer, even though I was terrified. Still, I stayed between him and the closet. He wouldn’t get to my daughter. And the operator would be able to hear him.
I would keep him away from Glory until the police arrived.
All I had to do was survive long enough for someone to help us.
Chapter 16
From the field journal of Cpl. Braddock Linden Hayes
21 SEPT 98
We’ve decided to end it.
We’re killing innocents, or worse, bringing in the poor bastards for experimentation.
A good soldier follows his commander ’s orders. But I’d rather be a good man, damn it. Shayla would be ashamed of what I’ve been doing—and I can’t stand the thought of her hating me.
There’s only one reason our government would want to capture werewolves, vampires, and God knows what else. It’s the same reason they’ve been messing around with alien technology, the same reason they do anything: to create better instruments for war, from soldiers to machines.
We have another mission: routing a nest of vampires who’ve settled in an abandoned farm in South Carolina.
It’s the perfect cover for getting out.
Just a couple more weeks, and this clusterfuck will be destroyed. And we’ll be free.
We’ll run. But as Shayla once told me, I can never outrun my conscience. I can only try to do the right thing and hope that sometime down the line, I’ll be able to pay enough penance for what I’ve done.
Chapter 17
Wednesday, June 19
I woke up feeling like I had swallowed a bag of cotton balls. My eyes felt gritty, too. I rubbed them and blinked awake.
I was tucked into a hospital bed. I leaned up on my elbows. The room was small, white, sterile. The antiseptic smell made me want to gag. God, I hated hospitals. I’d been in emergency rooms far too often, getting injuries treated and lying about how I got them.
“Simone?”
I looked to my right. Brady was in a chair, obviously having just awoke himself. He looked exhausted. He hadn’t shaved, his hair was mussed, and his clothes were wrinkled. How long had he been here? How long had I been here?
“What happened?” I asked.
“I poisoned you.”
That wasn’t the answer I’d expected. He’d warned me that his blood was different—to use his word, infected. But how could a human blood problem affect me? I was already dead.
Memories crowded into my mind, a blur of images and sounds. Poor Shawn, so gray, collapsed against the barn. “Shawn. Is he . . . ?”
“He died.” Brady stood up, crossed to the bed, and took my hand.
“Oh, my God.” I hadn’t known him, but I still felt sorrow at his passing. “Did I . . . ? Was I . . . ?”
“He was nearly drained,” said Brady. “Same as Rick.”
I closed my eyes and tried to swallow the knot in my throat. That’s right. My donor was dead, too. He’d been such a sweet guy. I opened my eyes. “I didn’t drain Rick. Or Shawn.”
“Rick probably arrived at your house and was lured up to the barn. As for Shawn . . . whoever did it got interrupted. That’s why he was still bleeding. It’s a wonder he even lasted as long as he did.”
I remembered then the shadowy figure in the woods. The whistling as he retreated. I went cold. I recognized the tune. “Mack the Knife.”
No, no. I had to be wrong. I’d been woozy, close to passing out. I’d been thinking of Jacob is all, and my mind made it seem like the whistling was a familiar tune.
“Shawn’s blood tasted like I was drinking a garbage blood shake,” I said. “Is that why I passed out?”
“Dr. Merrick thinks it’s because of me. My blood. There’s a lot to tell you.” He brushed my hair off my forehead and then leaned down to kiss my temple. “I thought I’d lost you.”
I didn’t know how to respond, but I was grateful for his comfort and for his vigil. He really cared about me. The idea of being Brady’s girlfriend both scared and thrilled me. I needed to find a way to rec
oncile my own feelings. I couldn’t let my past ruin my future. I had to take control of my life, once and for all.
“What about my daughter? And Gran?”
“Both fine. They’ve been here to see you every day.”
“Every day?”
“It’s Wednesday night, Simone. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for three days. Like I said, there’s a lot to tell you.”
Everything he had to tell me was bad news. No one had seen Darlene, her daughter, or Dunmore since Saturday. I admitted that I’d asked Dunmore to go handle Darlene’s water problems.
On Monday night when Marissa didn’t show up for school, and Darlene didn’t answer her cell phone, a security detail was dispatched to her home.
They found Dunmore in the kitchen, facedown in two inches of water. The kitchen pipes had busted, just like Darlene had said. If I’d hoped to hear that Dunmore was just fine, it was in vain.
Dunmore, too, was dead. Worse, he hadn’t met his end accidentally. No. He’d been killed and drained.
“Vampires don’t feed on lycans,” I said. I felt sick to my stomach. “The Ancients made a pact with the lycanthropes and Roma to never feed on their kind.”
“I know. Patrick told me that most vampires uphold the pact,” said Brady, “but there are those who don’t.”
I knew from my Vampire 101 classes that any vampire caught drinking lycanthrope blood was punished. Sometimes the offender was handed over to the lycans for judgment. No member of the Consortium would dare to drink a lycan’s blood.
With Patsy birthing the loup de sang, everything would change. A whole new race of blood-drinking lycans would change the rules for all of us.
My thoughts circled back to Darlene. What had happened to her and her daughter? Then it occurred to me that I’d been the last person to see the woman alive.
“Maybe she left,” I offered. “Just moved away or something.”
“Do you really think that’s what happened?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. But it’s better than the alternative.”
The door swung open and Dr. Merrick entered. She smiled, her gray eyes filled with sympathy. I’d always liked her. She’d been very kind to me and Glory.
“How are you feeling?”
“Dead,” I said, “but in a good way.”
She chuckled. Her gaze skated to Brady. “Did you tell her?”
“Not yet.”
“Does this have to do with his blood?”
Dr. Merrick nodded. “I think Brady can explain it best. I’ll leave you alone for a little while. Then I’ll check on you, try to get you out of here, okay?”
I nodded, feeling relieved. I did not want to have to stay in this room for another night. I wanted to go home to my family. I wanted to hold Glory and see with my own eyes that she was okay.
Dr. Merrick patted my arm, then left quietly.
“You want to call them?” He flipped open his cell phone, pushed a speed-dial number, and handed it to me.
Hearing Gran’s voice was like hearing a choir of angels. “I’m so glad you’re okay, honey! We’re gonna come up,” she said.
“I’m getting out of here. I’ll call you when we’re on our way. Tell Glory that I’m coming home. That I love her.”
“I will. See you soon.”
I ended the call and handed the phone to Brady. He put it away, then sat on the edge of my bed and held my hand. His expression was carefully blank. I hated when he did that. I had the worst poker face ever. I worked hard to maintain the facade of my happy-happy, joy-joy, but I’d never mastered the ability to show no emotion.
“This whole thing started more than ten years ago. I used to work for a covert government organization that targeted and destroyed paranormal beings.”
I stared at him, openmouthed. “You used to kill people like me?”
“We were told your kind were domestic threats. It’s true we killed supernaturals, but we also captured them. Instant death was preferable to being poked and prodded by the organization’s scientists, believe me.”
Brady clutched my hand, and I could see in his gaze that he wanted me to believe him. Maybe even absolve him. It must’ve been really difficult for him to talk to me about his past. I squeezed his hand, hoping to reassure him. He flashed me a tight smile.
“I got out. But not before they tried to kill me and my team. We went in supposedly to destroy a nest of vampires. Instead, my team died in an explosion set off by my superiors. That’s when I found out about PRIS, and later, I joined up with Elmore and Dora.
“The night of the explosion, I snuck back into the facility and destroyed as much as I could. I set the lab on fire, shot up the computers, and stole as much technology as I could find. I promised myself to use all my training and all their goddamned toys to protect people, all people.”
That explained his unusual weaponry and how he knew how to build the Invisi-shield.
“What does this have to do with me drinking your blood?”
“Part of the preparation was the absorption of nanobytes. Tiny robots that repaired our systems, gave us extra strength, boosted our senses.”
“So you’re a vampire without actually being vampire?”
“Yeah. Sorta. Three different types of these ’bots were shot into us over the course of nine days. It took three days after each treatment for our bodies to make nice with our new pals.”
“I’ve been out for three days,” I said. “I’ve absorbed the ’bots into my system? I’m not even alive!”
“You woke up, baby. And that means the ’bots have been accepted by your body.”
“I don’t feel any different.” I didn’t. I felt like the vampire I was three days ago. “What could they possibly be doing in there? My organs don’t work. I don’t have a viable circulatory system. I only have blood when I feed.”
Speaking of which, I was starving. My expression must’ve given away my thoughts.
“You can only drink from me,” he said. “Dr. Merrick thinks the ’bots have made other blood incompatible. A defense mechanism.”
I leaned against the pillows and tried to absorb everything. Crap. People were dying or missing. Brady was some sort of cyborg. And now I was, too. I’d never be able to take another donor. Brady was human. What if he died? Would I die, too?
Again Brady seemed to read my thoughts. He nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that, too.” He sucked in a breath. “I don’t see any alternative. You’ll have to Turn me.”
“Uh, no.” I sat up and brought his hand to my lips. I kissed each knuckle. “I don’t want to risk Turning you just to make sure I have dinner for the rest of my unnatural life. We’ll figure out something, Brady.”
“Maybe I’d want to hang around for other reasons.” He took my face into his hands, his gaze tender.
“Like what?” I asked.
“You.” He kissed me softly. “I think forever with you would suit me just fine.”
My heart trilled. And that familiar sensation of heat (okay, lust) swept over me.
“You need to drink, don’t you?” Brady lay down next to me and gathered me into his arms. He angled his neck so that it was flush against my mouth.
My fangs popped out.
I sank them into his artery and drank. Now I knew why his blood had that metallic taste. All the same, his blood was richly satisfying, and in no time at all, I’d finished my pint.
I stretched against him, languid. His erection brushed my belly. Startled, I looked down at his jeans, then back up at him.
He grinned. “You turn me on.”
“Me? Or my fangs?”
“All of you.” His hand fell to my hip, still tucked underneath the thin sheet. I wore one of those hospital gowns that opened at the back. I had nothing else on except my panties.
His other arm was tucked under his head. He seemed content with that one simple connection. I, on the other hand, felt like wiggling closer and doing things I really shouldn’t.
“I wa
nt to talk to you about Shayla,” he said.
The mention of another woman’s name instantly doused my ardor. “Who’s Shayla?”
Eep. I sounded jealous and suspicious.
He knew it, too. He grinned. “She was my sister. My twin. When we were seventeen, she was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia. She should’ve survived it. Eighty-five percent of those diagnosed with ALL do survive. But four months later, she was gone.”
“Oh, God, Brady. I’m so sorry.” I kissed his collarbone and smoothed my hand over his scruffy face. He looked at me, and I saw the sorrow in his eyes.
“The day she found out, she insisted we go get tattoos.”
“Really? Where’s yours?”
“Used to be here.” He raised the hand cupping my hip and showed me his wrist. I saw only a small mass of white scarring. “Two hearts linked together. When I joined the PET, they removed it. We weren’t supposed to have any identifiable marks—plausible deniability and all that shit.
“She wanted to be a vet, and I wanted to be an architect. After I lost her, I decided not to go to college. Without Shayla, life was just gray.”
“You were really close.”
“Yeah. We’d been best friends our whole lives. After our parents died, all we had were each other. I never imagined that I’d have to live without her.” He sighed. “I joined the Army. It was an impulsive decision, but turns out I was pretty good at being a soldier.”
“I’m sorry you lost your sister,” I said. “I’m sorry she died, Brady.”
He brushed his lips across mine. “I never thought I’d find someone else I could talk to the way I talked to her. I could pour my heart out and know my secrets were safe.” He kissed me again. Lust fluttered anew. “That’s how I feel with you, Simone. Safe.”
I felt such awe that he trusted me with his secrets. Yet I wasn’t sure I deserved to be Brady’s confidante. He didn’t know about my past, and I didn’t think I could tell him. I didn’t want that look that was on his face now, the one that was so warm and . . . well, loving . . . to be wiped away.
Over My Dead Body Page 11
