Even though she was no longer a hunter with the church, there was only one reason she’d reach out to him. “This can’t be a social call.”
“I’d like to tell you I’m only calling to say hey, but you’d know it was bullshit. Never could lie worth a damn.”
“Not to me anyway.”
“You were always like another brother. Always there when I needed you.”
Friend or not, quasi-brother or not, he might as well cut her off. Didn’t need to waste his time or hers. “I’m not a hunter anymore, Naomi.”
She didn’t even pause. “I need your help anyway.”
He didn’t pause either. “I can’t.” Despite the fact that she’d left her calling as a hunter behind, he didn’t delude himself that she’d call and ask for any other kind of assistance. She probably didn’t know the extent of his defection.
“You have to. You’re the only one I trust.” A note in her voice pulled at him. She could have said a hundred other things and he’d have been able to hang up the phone without guilt. She said the one thing that kept him on the line.
Colin rubbed his temple with his free hand, and glanced again at Ivy. “Tell me.”
“Thank you.” She said it on a sigh. Her words came in a quiet rush as she explained the reason for her call.
When her voice trailed off a few minutes later, he told her quietly, “I’ll come as soon as I can.” He didn’t have to think about it or run it by the others. Going wasn’t a question.
Ivy looked up when he put the phone down. “What is it?”
He met her gaze and tipped his head slightly. “An old friend. She’s in some trouble.”
“She?” Ivy raised an eyebrow and folded her hands on top of the book she’d been reading only a moment before. “Do tell me more. An old flame?”
“Hardly.” He smiled and ran a hand down her glossy black hair. “Naomi Rand is a retired hunter.”
“A pretty hunter?”
He laughed and appreciated how Ivy’s question made him feel. “Don’t worry, love, I’m not her type.”
“Oh, you’re sure about that?”
“One hundred percent.” He kissed her ear and whispered, “She’d be more interested in you.”
Ivy laughed. “Well, then I think I like her already. She’s obviously got good taste. When do we leave?”
“We?”
Surprise had her brow wrinkling and her lips pursing. She pushed back in her chair, her dark eyes studying his face. “Of course, we. You go, I go, real simple. What’s the problem?”
“Ivy, this is a cross-country trip. Naomi is in Washington, DC.”
“And your point would be?”
He knelt next to her and took her hand in his. Her skin was smooth and smelled of something sweet. When she turned those sexy, smoky eyes on him, it was hard to tell her no on just about anything. Then again, he would never knowingly put her life in jeopardy, and that’s exactly what he’d be doing if he took her cross-country.
“It’s too dangerous for you and I won’t put your life at risk. I almost lost you once, and I have no intention of doing it again.” Just the thought made him sick to the stomach.
She pressed her lips to his hand. “I love it when you get all knight-in-shining-armor on me. Sexy.” She kissed him on the mouth. “But not to worry, handsome. I have a plan.”
He rocked on his heels and laughed. “Of course you do.”
*
Despite her hasty retreat to put distance between herself and Naomi Rand, Tory took her time walking back to the Woodley Park Metro station. It was quiet this time of night, the residential neighborhood shrouded in darkness. It was a lovely area with older homes spaced closely together and surrounded by tidy fences and tiny yards. Large trees formed a canopy over her head, blotting out the majority of warm moonlight trying to shine through the boughs heavy with leaves. If she ever could have had a regular life, a home in a neighborhood like this would have been wonderful. Even though it could never be, she didn’t stop dreaming of it.
She could theorize that she returned to the church again and again because she was so fond of the area. The theory was crappy and untrue. That she kept returning to the National Cathedral unsettled her. Like the church was going to magically reveal the answers to her. Not a chance. Whatever was going on with the New Testament making its way to her had nothing to do with the National Cathedral and everything to do with her past. Nobody associated with the church could help her, nobody alive anyway.
If Roland was still around, he’d know what it all meant. He had a way of cutting through the bullshit to reveal the truth. Better yet, he’d know what to do. Of course, if Roland was still alive, the book wouldn’t be a mystery. It was like a big circle that kept going around, everything connecting to each other but never really revealing a single thing that might help.
At the Woodley Park Station, she hopped on the Metro and made her way back to Union Station. Only a few other people were on the Metro this late at night…or rather this early in the morning. It was a nice ride and she sat back, her head against the window. She even liked the smell. Somehow it made everything feel real, as if she was still a part of the human experience. It was an illusion, of course, but she liked it anyway. Selective denial was a great tool for maintaining long-term positive mental health.
The LOC was a short walk and she didn’t bother to look for Belle. She’d be off to one of her hidey holes by now, tucked away with her treasures and, hopefully, some food. She tried to look out for her but she could do only so much. For whatever reason, she was drawn to the troubled woman. Throughout the years, she’d encountered hundreds of the mentally ill. Until Belle, she hadn’t felt compelled to protect a single one. She didn’t dig too deep to find out what was different about her. Suffice it to say she was unique and Tory wanted to keep her safe. As she walked toward her office, she prayed Belle would stay out of harm’s way.
Still, as she passed Belle’s favorite hiding spot, she couldn’t help but look. It was empty. No sign of her. A twinge of unease rippled through her, and for just a moment she paused, thinking about what she might be able to do. That equated to a big fat nothing. She had no way of knowing where Belle might be and no way to track her down. Rather than dwell on something she had no control over, Tory hurried up the street. Plenty of work was sitting on her desk, with only a few more hours left before she’d need to return to her beautiful brick house. Maybe she couldn’t control much else, but she could take charge of the work she was hired to do.
Sounded good, except she didn’t feel like working, especially after her encounter with the lovely minister over at the cathedral. Naomi Rand intrigued her. Well, intrigued her and pissed her off. She still bristled when she thought of the passive / aggressive accusation about the New Testament. To even think she would ever steal a book was absurd. She revered books and had never once in her long life considered appropriating one that didn’t belong to her or her employer.
Then again, in Naomi’s defense, it was pretty weird to show up at the church holding a centuries-old volume. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she took off with it in the first place. Well, that wasn’t quite true. The fact was, she hadn’t been thinking at all. Pure reaction had propelled her and the New Testament out the doors of the LOC and across town to the cathedral. Everything after that had just sort of happened like an avalanche that couldn’t be stopped.
Tonight was a bit of the same thing. Despite everything sitting on her desk, she kept losing her concentration. She couldn’t get her head in the game no matter how hard she tried or what deadlines were staring at her from the calendar on her wall. When she left her office, she’d fully intended to simply take a walk and clear her head. A bit of fresh air was a common-sense approach to improving her focus. Why she’d headed straight back to the church again mystified her. Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own.
Even when she was standing on the steps of the cathedral, she figured it didn’t matter where she went to
puzzle things out as long as she did. The cathedral was as good a place as any. Right?
So far, however, it wasn’t going so well. She wasn’t any closer now to finding answers than she’d been an hour ago. Bottom line? Whoever was screwing with her was doing a damn fine job. Throw in the distraction of the gorgeous pastor who kept popping up and things got that much more convoluted. So, running away from Naomi like a scared cat wasn’t as much a coward’s way out as a head-clearing option. Except wasn’t that why she’d stepped away from the LOC in the first place? To clear her head? Oh hell, she couldn’t win. She didn’t like it.
As soon as she’d stepped out of Union Station, the wail of sirens filled the night air. Not unusual and, with the pervasive police presence on the Hill, a frequent occurrence. A person—a vampire—simply grew accustomed to the sound. She started walking, hands stuffed into the pockets of her pants. The closer she got to the LOC, the louder the sirens became.
As she crested the rise at Constitution Avenue, at first she thought something was happening at the Capitol Complex. Not too terribly unusual there either. People, especially the disgruntled or unbalanced, often focused their aggression on the beautiful, but secure, complex. Typically, the problem was handled quickly and efficiently. Another half block down she realized the problem was somewhere beyond the Capitol Complex and on the other side of the street—the same side of the street where the Library of Congress was located. The twinge that she’d first experienced at Belle’s empty hiding spot returned. This wasn’t one of those quick or easy situations. Too many lights. Too many cars. Way too many uniforms.
Tory walked briskly, her eyes focused on the flashing red and blue lights that cut through the darkness like lasers. After all this time, she should be accustomed to the violence that was an unfortunate part of the city. Not yet. Hopefully never. And tonight, the sight of those flashing lights brought a sick feeling to the pit of her stomach.
In front of the Library of Congress, police and emergency vehicles fanned out to create a wave of pulsing light and sound. Her step quickened. Despite the dread pooling in the pit of her stomach, she hoped to slip by unnoticed and get back to her office. Or, for that matter, slip in and back out without attracting attention. She didn’t want to find herself stuck in her office all day. She could survive it; she just preferred to keep her schedule intact and be long gone by the time the nine-to-five bunch showed up. Safer for everyone, particularly considering she didn’t keep a supply of blood in her office.
At the corner, Tory started to turn in the direction of the employee entrance and then paused. Something wasn’t right here. It wasn’t the standard crime scene she was accustomed to seeing. She gazed up, focused her eyes, and caught her breath. For a minute nothing registered and then it hit her. She trembled, her knees nearly buckled. Some sick bastard was making a statement, and she had a terrible feeling the statement was directed at her.
Slowly, she backed away. Her breaths were so short and shallow it was all she could do not to lose it. Her only hope was to blend into the shadows before anyone noticed her or she did something really stupid like pass out.
By the time she got to the employee entrance, she was steadier on her feet but tears streamed down her cheeks. She managed to pass her badge over the keypad sensor, open the door, and slip inside. In the hallway, she leaned heavily against the wall and pressed her hands to her face. As tears continued to fall, she wondered if she’d ever be able to erase the sight of Belle’s lifeless body stretched out on the steps of the library.
Chapter Seven
Finding Nathan in her doorway yet again didn’t surprise Naomi. He blew through her door, spilled coffee from the paper cup in his hand all over her floor, and made a halfhearted attempt to clean it up. Mopping the floor hadn’t been on her to-do list for today until now. At least it wasn’t carpet and he did manage to keep most of the coffee in his cup. Small favors.
His face was pale, serious. “Meme, you gotta give me something.”
And that would be what? She turned away from him to stare out her window. “I can’t give you something I don’t have.” She would help him if she could. Protecting her congregation was important, but so was stopping a killer, whether human or not, and frankly, the pressure he was putting on her wasn’t helping.
“Shit, this is going to get ugly.”
A shiver rippled through her body and she closed her eyes. That was a mistake. It blocked the sight of the setting sun but not the visions of red that filled her mind. “I know,” she whispered. “I just don’t know how to stop it.”
People were getting nervous. Worse than that, angry. In a city this size, anger was a very dangerous emotion. Once before, she’d witnessed firsthand what happened when that kind of mood blanketed a city. She didn’t want to see it again.
When she was a hunter everything in her world was black and white. She knew who was good and what was bad. Made her life simple and her decisions easier. These days, all that black and white was long gone. It seemed that all around her were shades of gray, and that’s where she found so many generous souls who deserved her respect and protection. Unfortunately, she was among the minority, and those who were growing restless with the lack of progress toward capturing a killer had the potential to be as dangerous as the killer they sought. The mere thought of what could happen sent waves of apprehension surging through her body.
“Don’t any of them know who it might be? Anything about someone or something going off the deep end?” His words were sharp.
She shook her head, opened her eyes, and turned around to stare at her brother. The story about the homeless woman left on the steps at the Library of Congress had been on every channel and on the front page of the newspaper. The words vampire and serial killer punctuated just about every sentence of the various newscasters. It wasn’t good for a whole bunch of reasons. In the old days she’d be gathering her weapons and heading out for the hunt, jacked up and ready to kill. Now, she worried about how to protect those who looked to her for salvation. They put their trust in her and she didn’t want to let them down. She’d done that once and she vowed never to do it again.
Naomi tried to explain to him. “I asked everyone that I know well and even some I don’t. No one has a clue and they’re as scared as you are. As I am. Nathan, everyone knows what this means and what could happen.”
“Yeah, Meme, but do you?”
Was he serious? Her shoulders stiffened. Nathan, of all people, should know better than to ask her that question. “That’s a stupid thing to throw at me. Trust me, I have a much better idea than you what this could mean. I’ve seen it up close and personal.”
“Maybe that was true at one point. But—” he said very softly as he laid a hand on her shoulder, “you walked away a long time ago. You’re not exactly on the front lines anymore.”
She twisted to dislodge his hand. That he was able to so accurately zero in on her weaknesses irritated her. She’d think her own twin would be a little more diplomatic. “You’re right. I’m not on that particular front line anymore. I gave up the sword, literally, but the damage had already been done. Years of memories can’t be washed clean or prayed away. They’re with me every day and every night. I see the damage I caused in faces of the preternaturals every time I look at them. I have to live with my sins, but I’ll be damned if I’ll stand by and watch others be victimized by ignorance or fear.”
He sighed and stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He looked haunted and she suspected she looked exactly the same. “And despite all of the years of seeing with your own eyes the destruction caused by vampires and other unnatural creatures, you have this sort of Pollyanna attitude that the preternaturals can be trusted. Or even worse, that they’re the same as we are.”
Would he ever…ever…understand? “They are and they deserve the same respect and shot at redemption.” She believed that with every fiber of her being. She had to, because if they weren’t worthy of a chance at redeeming themselves, where did t
hat leave her?
The haunted expression fled, replaced by hardness. “They aren’t the same as humans and never will be. You can preach all you want, try to bridge the gap between humans and preternaturals, and it’s not going to change a damn thing. Vamps are going to feed on human blood and werewolves are going to snack on human flesh, and that’s only two of these creatures. This rash of murders is putting this city one hair’s breadth away from setting off a war. Too many will die if that happens.”
“I won’t let it happen,” she told him, tears beginning to form in her eyes. Why couldn’t she ever reach him? More than that, why was his heart closed? So long ago, he’d been different, happier, loving. Along the way somewhere, he’d walled up his heart to everyone, including her.
Nathan shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes. “You can’t stop it.” He snatched his jacket from the chair he’d tossed it on when he first came in, then headed to the front door. “You couldn’t stop it when you carried weapons at your sides, and you sure as hell can’t stop it now with your words of God and forgiveness.”
“You’re wrong,” she said to his back.
At the door, Nathan stopped and turned to look at her once more. His eyes were dark and angry as they met hers. It was a look she knew well and tried to avoid whenever she could.
“Don’t do anything stupid. You might have God on your side, but without that sword you tossed aside, you’re just another meal to this monster. I don’t want to have to positively identify your body because you end up as a midnight snack for the bastard. You’re still my sister, and while I respect what you do, if I have to choose between human and preternatural, you know which side I’ll come down on.”
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