Scarlet Revenge

by Sheri Lewis Wohl

  “I don’t have to understand, and I don’t. You don’t owe these freaks anything. You never did a single thing wrong.”

  That’s where he was mistaken. What happened that night years ago wasn’t just wrong; it was unforgiveable. She’d become a hunter to destroy monsters. It had never occurred to her until the last swing of her sword that she’d become one. What was it that Nietzsche had said? “Be careful when you fight the monsters, lest you become one.” Nietzsche knew what he was talking about and it hit awful close to home in her case.

  “I…” The ring of Nathan’s cell phone interrupted her.

  “Detective Rand.” He held the phone to his ear. His expression darkened even more, and Naomi dreaded what she might hear. When his gaze met hers, chills ran up her spine.

  “I’m on my way.” He put the phone in his pocket and took a last swig of his coffee before tossing the cup into the trash.

  “Another one?” Naomi asked, even though she knew.

  “No, not another one. Another two.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “I can’t do this.” Tory shoved the chair away from the desk at the same time she slammed the laptop down.

  Everyone turned and stared at her. She didn’t blame them. They were in Naomi’s office furiously finishing their search of the records she’d pirated. They hoped to find more that would point the way, but so far tonight they weren’t making much ground.

  Her frustration was almost crippling. Tory’s throat tightened and she tried to blink back tears. It didn’t work. Despite her best efforts, she began to cry. Not her grandest moment.

  Naomi came over and put her arms around her. Tory appreciated the gesture even if it didn’t help keep her from becoming emotional. Everything welled up inside and she was powerless to stop the avalanche. Every person had her breaking point and apparently she’d just found hers.

  “What’s wrong?” Naomi whispered in her ear. Her soft breath was warm and comforting against Tory’s skin.

  “I know,” Riah said from across the room.

  Tory peered up and saw Riah’s face. She did know. She could see the shadows on her face, the same shadows that were wrapping around Tory’s heart. They had more in common than just blood.

  Riah explained. “You have to understand what we’ve been through. The years we’ve survived and how we’ve had to survive.”

  Tory nodded and stepped out of Naomi’s embrace. “I get what you were trying to do. I even understand the church’s so-called mission to cleanse the earth of evil.” She looked between Colin and Naomi.

  Riah was nodding. “And don’t get us wrong, there is evil among the vampires—terrible, terrible creatures that shouldn’t be allowed to survive. But they’re the exception rather than the rule.”

  Tory took a breath. “Not all vampires are bad.”

  Colin leaned back in his chair and looked up at Naomi. “I don’t think anyone in this room refutes that. At one time we didn’t understand, but we’re all on the same sheet of music now.”

  “We know that,” Riah said with a smile. “We wouldn’t be here together if we didn’t. It’s just that going through these files for us is more personal. It’s not a case of reading accounts of what happened to some random individuals.”

  Tory was nodding now. “We knew many of these vampires. Some were even our friends.”

  Tory’s thoughts turned to Becca Sontag. Hers was the record she’d been reading when it finally became too much. Becca had been a sweetheart, a breath of fresh air in a world ruled by darkness. They’d met about a hundred years ago in Sweden. With her light-blond hair and pale-blue eyes, Becca had looked like a beautiful porcelain doll. They’d become immediate friends, and when Tory left for the United States, Becca remained in Sweden. Even though Tory had cut off contact with all her vampire friends, she’d just assumed Becca was still doing well. She never hurt anyone and never, ever fed on humans. She always thought her friend would be fine because she never gave a soul any reason to hurt her.

  Now she knew different. One of the church’s hunters had taken Becca’s head some fifty years ago. The hunter, brand-new to the church, made Becca his first kill. As Tory had read his detailed report, she couldn’t miss his pride about his first successful eradication. It made her ill. For him to kill Becca was a bit like taking a lamb to slaughter. She never would have harmed the hunter, yet just because of what she was, he’d taken her head and then bragged about it.

  “The hatred in these things,” Riah pointed to the computers, “is hard to stomach. We’ve always been aware of the church and its hunters. We always knew to watch our backs. Reading the actual accounts and absorbing the enormous volume of hate is something quite different.”

  “Destroying vampires like Pierre and Rodolphe makes sense,” Tory added. “But reading about gentle souls wiped out simply because of what they were instead of what they’d done, well, that hurts.”

  Naomi’s eyes met hers and they were filled with sympathy. “There but for the grace of God go I.”

  Tory’s eyes filled with tears again and she nodded. Naomi understood.

  *

  In the lovely house he’d commandeered, Vlad rose from the king-sized bed and stretched. He looked forward to tonight’s games and he had such plans for his next round. He’d managed to strike terror into the hearts of the humans in the nation’s capital, and now it was time to strike a heavy blow into the heart of his one and only. All the groundwork was in place, all the chess pieces appropriately played. His next move: checkmate.

  He showered and stood in the closet studying the vast array of choices for tonight’s attire. Norman, his reluctant host, certainly did have excellent, not to mention expensive, taste. He settled on a pair of black slacks, a gray shirt, and a pair of black alligator loafers. They fit as though they’d been made just for him. Fortunate for him, not so fortunate for Norman. He smiled broadly.

  Speaking of Norman, he walked to the guest room and opened the door. Deathly pale and motionless, Norman was spread-eagled and naked, his hands and legs tied to the solid wood bedposts. Vlad waited for a moment, watching until he saw the telltale rise and fall of Norman’s chest. Good. After he’d fucked Norman a couple of times, he’d fed on him. Keeping him alive for snacking was a stroke of genius, particularly when he didn’t want to go out for dinner. He had things to do, and finding a proper dinner could take longer than he wanted to spend. Norman made for the perfect solution.

  After dinner, he wiped his mouth and made sure he hadn’t dripped anything on his clean shirt. Granted, there were plenty of crisp pressed shirts in the closet. He just didn’t feel like changing. He liked what he had on.

  He made his way through the house to the door leading to the basement. Flicking the light switch, he walked slowly down the stairs. His footsteps, though quiet, brought the anticipated sounds of struggle. Humans were so unsurprising. Didn’t take much to wind them up.

  The fat one, Vi something or other, was as still as stone—a big stone, that is. Tied to the chair, she stared at him with a gaze black and hateful. From all appearances, Fatty didn’t like him much. BFD. It wasn’t like he wanted or needed more friends. Ha.

  Wasn’t good for a meal either. Just the thought of draining her made him sick. Too much fat in her blood for his tastes, and sinking his fangs into her soft, fleshy neck disgusted him. His palate was far more refined; he preferred delicacies like coifed and manicured Norman.

  Getting her down the stairs was a huge pain in the ass. To have carried her down would have been way more effort than he’d cared to expend at the time, so he’d ended up simply grabbing her by the shoulders and dragging her down one bumpy step at a time. The bruises on her legs were still a nice dark shade of black and blue. He suspected beneath the mop of mousy hair that should have been cut off a long time ago, her head looked about the same.

  Little Red, on the other hand, was a completely different story. That one he’d tossed over his shoulder like a bag of feathers and carried her to the chair
she was now bound to. She was in pristine condition, just in case. She was a hot number he wouldn’t mind fucking before he drained her. With that flaming red hair and slim, hard body, she was a full-meal deal. He had every intention of enjoying her bountiful attributes before he served her up.

  “Ladies,” Vlad said as he stood in front of them, legs apart, hands behind his back. “For tonight’s entertainment, we will be visiting an old friend of yours. Now, which one of you wants to go first?”

  He studied them intently while they both stared back at him with eyes brimming with fear. The gags prevented them from answering, though he thought their eyes told him all he needed to know. “No preference? Well, then how about you?” He took a couple of steps closer to Fatty. Fatty, Fatty, two by four…

  Red started to squirm, tossing her head from side to side. She struggled vainly against the restraints binding her to the chair. Like she’d have a chance in hell against him even if she could break free.

  “Oh, you don’t approve?” He moved next to Red and ran a finger down her cheek. She jerked away, the abrupt movement sending her chair over sideways. Her head hitting the floor made a loud thump. She grunted and he hoped she hadn’t hurt anything important.

  Squatting next to her, he laid his hand against her smooth white cheek. “Don’t worry, pretty, I’ll be back for you.”

  Standing up, he stepped back over to Fatty. He untied her hands from the chair back, intending to retie them before he dragged her back up the stairs. Before he could, she lashed out and sliced his face with her nails. The fucking fat bitch drew blood!

  He roared, drew his arm back, and backhanded her across the face. Her scream was loud even beneath the tape as she toppled over sideways and banged her head on the concrete floor. She groaned and the fight appeared to go out of her. With satisfaction, he saw blood on her face too. He tied her hands together again, pulling the nylon rope tight enough that it would hurt like hell. Yeah, that was gonna leave a mark.

  His grip on her legs was vise-like as he repeated the process so that she was completely freed from the chair but still tied up. He made damn sure while he was doing it she didn’t have a chance to kick him in the crown jewels. Even after he hit her, he wasn’t convinced the fight was out of her—not until he had her trussed like up a Christmas turkey. Satisfied she wouldn’t be able to misbehave again, he grabbed the rope at her legs and began to drag her toward the stairs.

  He glanced back and smiled at Red. “See you soon, beautiful.”

  Red was crying when he turned out the lights.

  *

  Naomi had the urge to throw up. Why she had even allowed herself the fantasy that something could come of the attraction between her and Tory, she couldn’t comprehend. Bottom line, she knew better. No way on this planet could she ever make her life right.

  She’d never achieve atonement, even with all the years of work at the cathedral. Love was absolutely out of the question. People—vampires—could never love someone like her. The best she could hope for was to help the ones she could and make sure she never harmed another as long as she was allowed to live.

  If she had any doubts about whether she had a chance for change, Tory and Riah had promptly put them to bed. Of course they would be hurt by what the church had done to them and their friends. As instruments of the church, she and Colin had no right to ask for their forgiveness or even their friendship. Understanding, if they were lucky. Forgiveness, never—it was an unattainable fantasy.

  She needed air. Quietly, while the rest were still talking, Naomi slipped out of the office and walked outside to the deck. The evening air was cool and clear, and she propped her hands against the deck railing as she breathed it in. Fireflies danced in the grass, providing a light show she’d normally find entertaining. Tonight it just made her sad. How she wished things could be different.

  “What’s wrong?” Tory’s voice came from the doorway.

  Naomi turned and pasted on a fake smile. “Nothing. Just wanted a little fresh air to clear my head. Too much information to process in there.”

  Tory’s eyes grew serious and she put both hands on her hips. “Bull. What’s wrong? Spit it out, Rev.”

  Truth? Nope. When all else fails, lie. Not exactly the best course of action for one who worked for a church but sometimes unavoidable. “I’m just overwhelmed like you are.”

  Tory walked over and put a hand on Naomi’s cheek. “I repeat, bull. Tell me, I’ll understand.”

  Naomi smiled. How many times had she said the same thing to a troubled soul who came to her at the church? “You are an interesting woman.”

  “You mean for a vampire.”

  Actually, vampire wasn’t anywhere in her mind at the moment. “No, I mean as a woman.”

  A tiny smile ghosted across Tory’s face, gone as soon as it appeared. “It’s been a long time since anyone has classified me as simply a woman.”

  “I don’t think you’re simply a woman. I think you’re much more complex.”

  “And you like it, right?”

  The insecurity rolled up in the question surprised Naomi. Tory always seemed like the ever-confident woman to her. Being so comfortable in her own skin, even if it was hundreds of years old, made Naomi envious. Finding a place of comfort had taken a very long time for Naomi and, honestly, she wasn’t so sure she was there yet.

  “Of course I do.” No lie there. So far she hadn’t found anything about Tory she didn’t like.

  Tory’s eyes were a bit haunted. “The hesitation I hear makes me nervous. Did I do something?”

  Do something? No. Reveal a painful truth? Yes. But it had nothing to do with Tory and everything to do with the choices Naomi had made through the years.

  “Let’s just chalk it up to this whole situation. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling really overwhelmed.”

  “Amen to that, sister.”

  “Come on.” Naomi pushed away from the deck rail. “Let’s go finish this thing.” Standing out here, hiding essentially, wasn’t helping anyone, and she needed to be of assistance, not a hindrance.

  “Probably a good idea.” Tory touched Naomi’s cheek. “Let’s go lend our collective hands.”

  Ivy came running out just as they started to go in. “Hurry.”

  Naomi picked up her pace. “What’s wrong?”

  “Adriana’s having one of her new psychic moments.”

  Naomi and Tory looked at each other, then turned and ran to the office right behind Ivy.

  Adriana was sitting, Riah’s arms wrapped around her. Both of them looked up when the trio ran in.

  “We’ve got a problem,” Adriana said ominously.

  “Tell us.” Naomi didn’t like the odd catch in Adriana’s voice.

  “He’s got Viola.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Tory thought her legs would give out. “What? How?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around the possibility that Viola was in danger. Sunny and Viola were supposed to have flown out yesterday. How could he have gotten Viola? And what about Sunny?

  “It has to be Pierre.” She hated to admit it but she couldn’t pretend any longer. Pierre had proved years ago he would use anyone to get to her. Roland was a prime example. If he thought for a second it would upset her to take Viola and Sunny, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

  Thinking of what he might do made her sick. Remembering what he did do nearly made her vomit. The most humane thing would be to simply kill them, but he was never one to do the simple or humane. If he turned Viola or Sunny as he’d tried to do with Roland, she would put a stake through her own heart. She couldn’t be responsible for yet another’s destruction.

  “No.” Riah shook her head. “It can’t be Pierre. I came across an entry for him in 1958. A hunter by the name of Clark something or other. He’s long gone unless somebody faked the kill.”

  “Clark Rockford.” Both Colin and Naomi said the name at the same time and then looked at each other. The identical frown on each face didn’t instill her with
confidence. They knew something about this Clark, and she had a hunch it wasn’t a good something.

  “What’s the deal with Clark?” She wanted to believe someone really had put Pierre down. She wasn’t harboring a great deal of optimism, given the grim expression Naomi turned her way.

  “Clark is one of the old guys.”

  “And?” “Old guy” didn’t mean anything to her.

  “And let’s just say that while he was a competent hunter, he didn’t always get his man…or woman.”

  Riah protested. “But I read a rather detailed account about Pierre’s destruction.”

  “Not surprising,” Colin told her. “Clark always said he got the vampire even if he really didn’t.”

  “He lied,” Tory said flatly. Her nightmare seemed likely to become her reality, her escape from Pierre just an illusion.

  “More than once.” Naomi shook her head. “Clark has a good heart but he sorta sucked at being a hunter. Top that off with an ego that wouldn’t let him acknowledge failure and it all equals unreliable reports. He was one of the old boys’ club. Even so, the church retired him after some of his falsified reports came to light.”

  “So he is still alive and after me.” She knew it. Turning Roland hadn’t been enough to punish her. He’d tracked her down and was trying to destroy her whole world.

  Riah let out a long breath. “That’s not a good thing.”

  “Hey, wait.” Naomi held up a hand. “We said he sometimes lied. Not all the time. Pierre could still be dead.”

  She appreciated Naomi’s attempt to keep her positive. Wasn’t working for good reason. “Recent events would seem to confirm Pierre’s kill as one of the fabricated events. He’s still out there and he’s after me.”

  Tory sank to an empty chair and ran her hands through her hair. She had to think, had to outthink Pierre. She’d spent so many years trying to erase him from her memories it was almost painful to let him back in. A cold band seemed to tighten around her heart.