by Laken Cane
I glared. “Don’t do that. Just tell me the truth.”
“If you fail, he will believe he was wrong to choose you,” Rhys said. “That you’re not the right person after all.”
“And he will kill me.”
Rhys shrugged, uncomfortable. “We don’t know, but there can be only one caretaker. If you fail your task, he may need to give the ground your blood to show it your figurative death, and he will wait for someone else.”
“This is crazy.” I tried to take a deep breath but my chest was too tight. “Is this a dream?”
“A nightmare, maybe.” Rhys stared at me, grim and dark.
“You’ll do it.” Clayton took a step toward me, then flinched and came no closer. “He is not wrong. You felt the affinity for this house. You heard his voice.”
I wasn’t convinced. The man with no name wanted me to mind the house, but he also wanted me to prove myself. “He said I could scent Madalyn. That all I had to do was go to her. But I can’t scent her to find her.” I bit my lip when it trembled.
Clayton stared over my head, his eyes as blank as I’d ever seen them. “I wish I could touch you.”
I shuddered. “I wish the same.”
Rhys drew me into his arms. “Come here.” Then he held out a hand to Clayton. “Clay.”
“No,” I said. “Miriam doesn’t allow him to be touched by anyone.”
“Miriam doesn’t scare me.” Rhys motioned to Clayton. “Come on.”
Clayton believed Rhys—or maybe he knew something I didn’t. His body subtly relaxed its straight, rigid lines, and he relented.
I wound my arms around Rhys’s waist, then glanced at Clayton, waiting to see if it were possible. Touching through Rhys might be as close as we could get for a while.
Clayton, unaccustomed to being touched gently by anyone, stepped to Rhys’s side. Rhys put his arm around the other man’s shoulders and the three of us stood in a little circle of silent camaraderie.
And nothing happened. Clayton didn’t stiffen with pain. Blood didn’t begin to pour from his eyes.
I wanted so badly to fix the brokenness in him. I wanted to steal him from Miriam and never worry that touching him would make him bleed. Never wonder if a quick kiss would be discovered, that he would be punished for it.
We’d had that, for one brief, glorious minute. I wanted it again, and I wanted it forever. Most of all, I wanted him to have it.
Rhys’s full lips curved in a smile, so close to my face, so tempting, that I couldn’t resist slanting my mouth against his and pulling his bottom lip into my mouth. I ran my tongue over it before pulling away, and when I did, both men looked at me with identical expressions of desire. Their stares were so full of heat I thought I smelled a hint of smoke when I sucked in a sharp breath.
“Trinity,” Rhys said.
“Yes?” My voice trembled. Understandable, surely.
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to do you.” I turned my eyes toward Clayton. “And I want to do him.”
Clayton closed his eyes. “Trinity,” he whispered. “Stop.”
“It hurts him,” Rhys said. “You aren’t to touch him. He isn’t to touch himself. I’m not sure you can understand what countless days of unrelenting, unrelieved desire can do to a man.”
“It would be excruciating,” I murmured.
“I’ll be your hands,” Rhys said, quietly.
I frowned. “No one can touch him. Miriam has forbidden it.”
“Miriam’s magic has nothing to do with me.” Rhys looked from me to Clayton. “Her mad reach cannot extend to me.” And before either Clayton or I understood what he was about to do, Rhys took his arm from me and turned toward Clayton. Without any discernable hesitation, he gripped Clayton’s erection. He squeezed and Clayton bowed his spine, crying out, recoiling in shock or bliss or both.
“Trinity,” Rhys ordered, then shoved Clayton back against the wall.
I rushed to get as close to Clayton as I could without actually touching him, and I began to murmur into his ear. “Close your eyes, Clayton. Close your eyes and feel me. Feel me touching you…”
And finally, he stopped trying to fight his need. His entire body shook as almost silent moans slid from between his lips.
I heard the snick of his zipper, and I slid my fingers down Rhys’s arm and covered his hand with mine.
Rhys’s hand was the only barrier between Clayton’s flesh and my fingers, and I slid my hand up and down his warm, hard, familiar length, and I whispered into his ear, and I helped him find his release.
I met Rhys’s hot, dark stare, and we bonded in a different way as we helped Clayton achieve something he could not achieve alone. And in the end, when Clayton groaned and ejaculated his seed all over my hand, I lifted it to my mouth and both men watched as I licked it off.
“Fuck, Trinity,” Rhys said.
He walked away, but not before shooting me a smile that nearly set me on fire.
“Rhys,” Clayton called, as Rhys opened the front door.
Rhys hesitated, then turned his head to look at his friend. He opened his mouth, and I was nearly certain he was about to apologize, but before he could, Clayton spoke again.
“Thanks.”
“Not a problem, man.”
We left the way station to go prepare for the night ahead. I would retrieve Angus that night, or likely, I would die.
And I couldn’t die—not yet. My supernaturals needed me.
Almost as much as I needed them.
Chapter Sixteen
On my way home, Crawford called. I glanced at his name, hesitated, then ignored it. I did not have an update to give him—not yet. Maybe he was calling to apologize, and if so, he could apologize to my voicemail. The captain was all sorts of weird lately, and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with it.
I had to get the blood off me. It was sticky, stinky, and cold. I felt bad for the rooster. If Nadine and Himself had needed some sort of blood sacrifice, they should have used their own.
I also felt bad for Rhys’s car. Rhys had tossed me a blanket to sit on, but still. I was a disgusting mess and some of that mess was getting on his nice car.
Clayton sat in the back, staring out his window, and none of us said a word until Rhys stopped in front of Angus’s house. As I climbed out, Clayton leaned forward to peer up at me. “We’ll see you tonight.”
I nodded but didn’t even try to hide my uncertainty. “I hope so.”
“Do you want something for your anxiety?” Rhys tried to appear calm and confident, but I could see his worry, just as I could see Clayton’s. And it was made worse because they couldn’t go to the island with me. I was on my own. And I had no idea what I was doing.
I couldn’t even take Silverlight.
I shook my head. “No. I just…” Then I took a deep breath and shut the car door. There was nothing to say. I had to go after Angus—the strange, powerful old man had said I should. There wasn’t much time left to chase after the elusive Madalyn with the hope that Judge Bennett would make good on his promise. My nose had failed me.
I stood in the shower ten minutes later, washing blood from my skin, hope in my heart despite the fear. Himself had said I should go after Angus tonight. The man knew things I didn’t. If he thought there was a chance I could free Angus, then there was. Even if I didn’t have a lot of faith in myself, I couldn’t really doubt the old man.
I might not succeed, but there was a chance.
The blood and the incantations—maybe those had been for protection. Maybe they would make me stronger. Invincible.
Sure.
I smiled and climbed from the shower, taking time to caress Silverlight as she lay small and silent on the sink. She hadn’t had a lot of action lately, with the vampires dwindling away to nothing.
Amias had told me once that the more I used her, the stronger she’d get.
I called Rhys.
“Trinity?”
“Your friend Alejandro.”
“What about
him?”
“Can I trust him with Silverlight?”
He was silent for a second, then, “You absolutely can.”
“Then can you call him and ask him if he’ll go with me to the island tonight?”
“I called him after I dropped you off. But you can’t take weapons on the island, Trinity. You know that.”
“There’s a checkpoint just after the dock. If Al stays on the dock, no one will check him for weapons. If things go sideways, Silverlight will be near. I just don’t feel right leaving her behind, Rhys. Not tonight. I’m going to need her.”
“Sweetheart, you’re going to need Alejandro. And he will not stay on the docks holding your blade while you traipse off to face the night alone.”
I sighed, then hung up.
He called right back.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Wear the pin tonight, Trinity. Will you do that for me?”
“Of course.” But when I strode from the bathroom and looked on the nightstand, the pin was nowhere to be seen. I yanked open the nightstand drawer and rummaged through the items inside, but the pin was not there. “Shit!”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s gone! The pin isn’t here, Rhys.” I straightened and squinted at the wall, trying to remember if I’d put it somewhere else and just forgot.
“It has a mind of its own,” Rhys told me, calmly. “It’ll turn up before you leave. I’ll make sure you remember.”
I frowned. “What the hell kind of jewelry has a “mind,” Rhys?”
He chuckled. “Our kind, honey.”
He wasn’t wrong.
When I got dressed for the night, I chose a bright red top. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest choice—not if I wanted to blend in—but Angus loved red. So I dressed for him.
There were still a few hours before nightfall, and I needed to work off some of my restlessness. I sheathed Silverlight and jogged down the stairs. I’d grab a bite to eat and then see if I could pick up Madalyn’s scent. How much easier would everything be if I could find the judge’s wife?
As I walked to the kitchen, I called Shane, a little surprised when he answered.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” I hesitated. “Where did you go?”
“I had to take care of some things.” He didn’t elaborate.
“Fine. Al and I are going back to the island tonight. Do you—”
“I know. I’ll be there before dark.” He hung up.
“Asshole,” I muttered, as I walked into the kitchen.
“Asshole,” a squeaky voice parroted. She was a tiny three-year-old with white-blonde hair and huge blue eyes, and she couldn’t have looked less like Angus. Her mother sat at the table with two women I didn’t recognize and all three of them clutched their little ones and glared at me.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Alice, don’t say that word,” the kid’s mother told her. “That’s a bad word.” Then she looked at me. “You should watch your language around here. There are too many little ears in this house. You can’t—”
“Oh shut up,” I snarled.
“Shut up,” Alice agreed.
I shoved a frozen sandwich into the microwave, then crossed my arms and turned to glare at the silent women while it cooked. No one said a word.
I couldn’t wait to get out of that house. There were just too many people. Too many kids, too many women, too many nannies. I didn’t belong there.
The silence continued until I yanked my sandwich from the microwave, wrapped it in a napkin, then strode from the room.
I heard the angry murmur of voices the second I walked out.
“She has to go,” one of the ladies said, making no attempt to keep her voice down.
And she was right. I did.
I ate my sandwich in my car, chased it down with a bottle of warm water, then drove toward the city.
Before I left Bay Town, though, Miriam Crow called me.
I took a deep breath, then answered, my stomach tight. “Hi, Miriam.”
“Come visit me, darling.” Her voice was bright but as usual, it couldn’t quite hide the dark undertones. “I need to talk with you before you go to the island.”
I sighed. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Perfect!” She hung up.
I wished the necromancer hadn’t been so…nice. She was interesting, strong, funny, and intelligent. She was sweet and compassionate, and she’d have done nearly anything to protect me and her supernatural friends.
But she was also all twisted up inside, full of wickedness and insanity and darkness. She was quite the sadist. And unfortunately, the object of her torment was Clayton. He was her slave, and she hated him above all things.
I had no idea how to free him. If I wasn’t careful, he would suffer for my attempts. But there was a demon inside him—an incubus—and that demon held the key to his freedom. The incubus—Seth Damon—was biding his time. But for what? If I thought about it for too long, it began to terrify me. Part of me believed that in the end, the demon was going to free Clayton by killing him.
“Shit,” I whispered, and squeezed the steering wheel. I did not want to lose Clayton.
By the time I reached the Bay Town Business Park, my stomach was gurgling with stress and my head ached from worrying—not just about Clayton but about the looming trip to the island.
There was excitement there too—Angus might be coming home. Angus would be coming home. And I kept that thought grimly at the front of my mind. I was going to bring Angus home.
I glanced longingly at Stark’s Pizza, which sat quiet and empty in the early part of the day, then headed a few doors down to Miriam Crow’s office.
Clayton opened the door before I reached it, then turned and walked away. Miriam sat behind her desk, tapping at her computer, and Clayton went to stand against the wall behind her.
Miriam looked up. “Sit, sweetheart. Would you like some coffee? Some cake?”
I shook my head. “I’m too anxious to add caffeine to the mix.” I sat in the chair before her desk, then reached up to rub my temples.
“Clayton, get her something to help.”
I dropped my hands into my lap and watched him as he walked from the room and into the hallway, his stride sure and his back straight. I remembered his face when he’d had his release. Images of his cock in Rhys’s hand—and my hand—stole my breath. His groan, so heavy with sex, played like echoing music through my mind.
He didn’t look like he was in pain, but if he’d gone back to Miriam’s with the slightest hint of joy or relief, she would have known. And likely she’d have rectified the situation.
She was watching me when I looked away from Clayton’s retreating body. “Clayton told me about your encounter with the Prince of Darkness. I swear, I miss all the fun.”
“Prince of Darkness? You think Himself is Satan?”
She laughed lightly. “Not really. I just think that title suits him.” She left her desk and came to sit beside me. “Trinity, I wish you hadn’t wanted the house. You’ll be changed if you live there.”
“What do you mean?” I didn’t pull away when she reached over to take my hand. Miriam was a touchy-feely sort, and I’d grown used to it.
“I don’t want you to become the Princess of Darkness, I suppose. You’re full of light and beauty and goodness. I just don’t want to see you change.” Then she smiled, but it was a sad smile. “You’re already changing. Already becoming…bad.”
I squeezed her fingers. “I’m not going to become bad. You’re just projecting.”
She waved her free hand, frowning. “Psychobabble.” She hesitated, then looked down at our entwined fingers. “My father was a psychiatrist.”
I leaned forward. “How is that possible? Wasn’t he a supernatural?”
“Oh. No, I was adopted when I was small. He was fascinated by me. You see…”
“Go on,” I urged, when she hesitated. I was fascinated by her.
The batt
le to talk about her life was there in her eyes. She wanted to, she didn’t want to. Finally, the part of her that needed to confide in another person won out. “When I was four years old I resurrected my dead cat. I was weak, at that young age, and I didn’t do a very good job of it.”
Clayton slipped back into the room and she stopped talking long enough to give him a nod. He handed me two small tablets and a bottle of water, but he didn’t meet my stare.
I didn’t ask what the tablets were. He wouldn’t give me anything to hurt me, and my head was throbbing. I took the pills as Miriam continued with her story.
“After I brought the cat back to life, my minders saw the potential in using me to make some money. You have to understand, it was a different time then. You think things are bad now?” She shook her head. “They’re better than they were. For us, I mean. Back then, we had absolutely no one. At least now…”
I wondered once again how old she really was, but I wasn’t going to ask her.
She took my bottle of water and drank, then wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “See,” she continued, “there aren’t a lot of necromancers in the world, just as there aren’t a lot of bloodhunters. We’re special, you and I.”
I swallowed. “What’d they do to you, Miriam?”
She squeezed the water bottle, making it crackle, then studied the floor. “They locked me in a cage and sold tickets to curious humans. Sometimes the humans wanted to borrow me, and they paid my minders extra for that.”
I closed my eyes. The pain in my head was easing already, but Miriam’s words made my stomach tighten into angry, horrified knots. “What of your birth parents?”
Miriam shrugged, her face carefully blank. “I came from the ground, I was told. I had no parents. My beloved father saved me from the cages. From the humans who took a damaged, wretched child and turned her inside out. He bought me from them, and gave me the only love I ever knew.”
She turned her head slowly to look at Clayton.
He stared at the floor.
Chills raced through my body and I began to shiver. I touched her cheek to bring her attention back to me, and for an instant, her eyes shone with a feral madness.
I cleared my throat. “Let’s not talk about it. It’s too upsetting for you. Why did you want to see me?”
