by Dannika Dark
I heard a loud gulp as he swallowed what was in his mouth.
“You’ve got some nerve getting in my car after calling the cops on me,” he snarled.
“Did you make any new friends in jail?” I asked, some of his greasy black hair threatening to get in my mouth. “One move and I’ll cut your neck two ways. I want to ask you something, and it’s in your best interest to answer correctly. Don’t bother going on about witnesses; we’re in a tinted car and I don’t really care. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” he bit out.
“Good. I need to know what happened to a certain Vampire.”
I watched in the rearview mirror as he furrowed his brow. “What Vampire?”
Either Salvator was the best liar, or Darius had kept him in the dark.
“The one Darius got rid of. Think carefully before you answer.”
I pressed the tip of the stunner into the back of his neck just enough to dull some of his senses and give him a taste of paralysis.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he grunted.
“Then maybe you’re not that important in the chain of command.”
His eyes flashed up in the rearview mirror. “Fuck you. He tells me everything.”
Salvator carried out human murders, so it didn’t make sense that Darius would have kept him in the dark and had one of his bumbling guards carry out the task. Either Salvator was lying, or Darius was lying.
“Tell me the truth. You have ten seconds to decide your fate. Ten… nine… eight…”
“Fuck, I’m telling you I don’t know anything about a Vampire! You’re just wasting your time.”
“Seven… six…”
“Why don’t you call Darius and ask him yourself? One of the other guards might know something.”
“Five… four… three…”
“You’re just going to have to cut me.”
“Two… one. Time’s up.”
I pressed the push dagger halfway in, and he cried out, “Wait! I know.”
I pulled out. “Excuse me? I didn’t quite catch that.”
A rivulet of blood trickled down the back of his neck, and he winced when the long blade dug into his flesh. “Darius wants me to find some guy who called him out of the blue and said he caught a Vampire driving around in one of our cars with the guard’s body in the trunk. Said he’d take care of it if Darius held a favor in his pocket for him to collect on.” Salvator tried to calm his panicked breaths. “The Vampire was buried in a cemetery, but that’s all I know.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know!” he shrieked. “What do you care about a corpse? I didn’t have anything to do with it. Darius doesn’t like being in anyone’s debt, but he had no choice. I’ve told you everything I know.”
Poor Salvator. I almost felt sorry for how easily he caved, but not sorry enough when I thought about all the humans he’d murdered for money.
“You did real well, Salvator. Take a deep breath and relax. That’s good. Lights out.”
I drove the push dagger deep, and he slumped over to the passenger side, crushing his burger sack. The stunner had penetrated his spine, but he’d survive. It took a lot more than that to kill a Mage. At least for now he was under my control, so that bought me some time. Since the front windshield didn’t have as much tinting as the other windows, I used a sunshade to give us privacy.
A phone peeked out of his back pocket, so I palmed it and stepped out of the car. As I sat on the trunk, a group of teenagers across the street caught my attention. Their boisterous laughs made me wistful, remembering what it was like to be that age when I had all the answers. Monsters didn’t exist; life would get better; and someday I would die, so I needed to make every moment count. A cold chill ran down my spine when I realized that some of that humanity was slipping away from me. Was it inevitable with immortality, or was I allowing it to happen?
“Do I know you?” Wyatt said on the line.
“It’s Raven.”
He snorted. “That’s a world record. I didn’t think I’d hear from you for at least a hundred years. I thought maybe we’d bump into each other at a rodeo and reminisce over old times when you almost got me fired. Whose phone is this?”
“A man who works for Darius.”
“Hmm. Should I ask where this man is?”
My tone became somber. “I just called to let you know that I have information on where Christian’s remains are.”
“Son of a ghost.”
Chapter 17
Two Nights Earlier
Christian cursed himself for having cozied up with Raven, imparting words of wisdom so she’d see the error of her ways. That lunatic wouldn’t know what to do with a nugget of knowledge if it hit her in the noggin.
Still. A small part of him wanted to connect with her on some level, and he didn’t know why. She had a way of looking at him with her mismatched eyes that made his heart quicken. He’d never seen eyes so enchanting. Maybe that was why he’d slipped out of his bedroom when she rolled over in his bed to face him. Christian had to remind himself that this woman couldn’t be trusted, and if made a permanent member, he was going to be expected to put his life in her hands.
After leaving his bedroom, he descended the stairs to the second floor, inviting Viktor into one of the soundproof rooms. It was a quaint sitting room—absent of windows, a fireplace, or even a couch. It looked more like a medieval chamber used to hold hostages, except for the two gold chairs and resplendent white carpet with intricate details woven into the fabric.
Viktor struck a match and lit one of the lanterns on the table between two chairs.
“Are you angry?” Christian asked, pulling a clean shirt over his head while Viktor took a seat.
“Come sit, Christian. I cannot discuss anything when you’re hovering.”
Christian reluctantly strode across the room and took the opposite chair, his legs straight and ankles crossed. “She’s a murderer. What other skills can she offer to Keystone? You can’t just choose someone because they know how to kill a man.”
The soft light flickered in Viktor’s grey eyes, and he gave Christian a pensive look. “Do you think I make decisions in haste? She does not kill indiscriminately, and the evaluation period allows me to get a feel for her talents. I’ve never seen anyone like her before. She has potential. Raven is not as seasoned as the rest of you, but if I do not give her this opportunity, she may one day become the very person we end up hunting. Which side would you rather see her on?”
“You can’t save them all.”
“Nyet. But I was your last resort. You were each at a crossroads. What will hold someone to me if they have better options? I’m here to give each of you an opportunity to make a difference, and that means I need to be your only option. What we do is not glorious, and it requires a certain kind of… finesse that not everyone has.”
Christian tapped his fingers on the armrest. “Like turning someone’s car into a carnival of blood?”
“I need more men who have fighting skills, and you know it. I cannot continue putting Gem and Wyatt in dangerous situations. They were chosen for different reasons. And while Claude can fight, he’s my tracker and inside man.” Viktor wagged his finger. “You have expressed a desire to work alone, but you cannot be treated specially in a group of equals. You must learn to follow the same rules, and that means taking on a partner. It will do you more good than you realize. Vampires are loners by nature; I understand this, and you don’t strike me as a man who has ever trusted anyone with his life. But it’s time for you to step outside that comfortable place that limits your potential. I will not change my mind.”
Christian shifted in his chair, unsettled by Viktor’s resolve. In a perfect world, Viktor would skip the rules and pair her up with the next member of Keystone—if someone new joined their group. Viktor had never expressed how many people he wanted in Keystone, but Christian had secretly hoped that he’d be the last.
Christian tilted his he
ad to the side, searching for the right words to reason with him. “She’s a crossbreed. That’s something you should consider before making a decision. You don’t know what she’s capable of because there’s never been anyone like her. You’re only seeing one side of the coin. She’s dangerous and unpredictable.”
“As are all of you.”
“Aye, but we are not that to each other. She’s been on her own too long without any guidance. If she’s never had a positive influence in her life, she may be too far gone to save. Is it worth jeopardizing our lives for a rogue?”
Viktor laced his fingers together. “Tell me what this is really about, Christian. You are not a man who backs away from a challenge. Is it because she’s a woman? Is it because she’s a beautiful woman, and you somehow find that a distraction? What is the root of your fear? We are not angels.”
Christian pinched at the whiskers of his short beard, attempting to feign indifference. Viktor’s remark had unexpectedly struck a nerve. Misplaced affections weakened a man. And what was the point of partnering with a fetching woman he couldn’t bed?
Torture, that’s what.
He’d tried to ignore her cool confidence and dry humor that was much like his own, but the moment he spotted her vulnerable side, he wanted no part of it. Partners formed close relationships, even if they disliked each other. The last thing he needed was to grow attached to her, or even worse, watch her destroy everything they had built. Either way, this partnership had to end.
For feck’s sake, he’d tucked her into his bed.
Viktor tapped his foot on the floor. “Do you have nothing to say?”
“I need to break away from here for a while and get my head together.”
Viktor rose to his feet. “Nyet. I have a blood-soaked car in my driveway with a body in the trunk. No cleaner is going to touch that without reporting it to the higher authority. I do not trust those men with this much evidence. Cleaning a little blood off the street? Fine. That is not something they can report with much merit. I need you to take care of this for me.”
Christian rubbed his face, realizing he couldn’t hang Viktor out to dry. He rose to his feet and rocked on his heels. “Aye, I’ll finish this job as you asked. But after that, I’m taking a holiday to think about what I want to do. If I stay here another night in my current state, I might leave for good.”
Viktor sighed harshly, the lines in his face etched deep. “Very well. If you need to go away and think, I respect that. We’ll work something out.”
They didn’t speak another word, and Christian left the house in the Mage’s car. He wiped down the seat before getting in so he wouldn’t have to sit in a pool of sticky blood.
Thank Jaysus they were leather seats.
“Raven Black. What kind of name is that?” he mused.
She kept herself guarded when it came to her creation, but without knowing those details, it left Christian uncertain about her stability. Who was her maker? Where was he now? Maybe she murdered them all and her heart was just as black as her name. After all, what kind of Vampire would abandon his youngling? Raven despised Vampires, and it wouldn’t have offended him so much had she not been half.
Christian loved what he was. Eating was optional; blood wasn’t necessary to sustain life, but it filled them with power and knowledge; and he was blessed with immortality. He was stronger, had exceptional hearing, and especially didn’t mind how most Breeds avoided him. Had his maker not granted him this life, he’d be rotting away in a pine box alongside his brothers.
Although truth be told, Christian had no idea where his brothers had been laid to rest. His father and younger sister stayed behind in Ireland while the rest of them moved on in search of a better life. After many hardships, the brothers parted ways in pursuit of different opportunities. Christian remained behind in the big city, reduced to picking pockets because no one would hire the Irish. When he was around thirty-one, he met a Vampire who had offered him the unexpected opportunity of a better life. In those days, makers didn’t need to obtain permission. Christian accepted without hesitation. His brothers would have said he was in league with the devil, but what else did he have going for him?
As the years went by, muddy roads and horse-drawn carriages transformed into paved streets and motorcars. As the cities became more populated, they came alive at night—more anonymous. Anyone could blend in.
Even a Vampire.
Christian wondered what his maker would think of him driving a stolen car with a dead body in the trunk. Not that Ronan was a pious man, but he believed everyone was born with a greater purpose.
“Is this what you have to look forward to?” Christian asked whimsically. He drove the car through the broken gates of the oldest cemetery in the city. “Meet your new partner, Christian. Isn’t she a bonnie lass? Nothing to worry about. She’s bright, gifted, and a murderous lunatic. You’ll be spending the next century cleaning up her messes and dumping bodies. Every time she screws up, you’ll have everyone judging you for her actions.”
He slowed down, accidentally driving over an old gravestone that looked more like a rock.
“You’re a fecking moron if you keep this job,” he growled to himself. “She wouldn’t bat an eyelash if you turned up missing or were burned at the stake. She’d probably bring the marshmallows. Viktor, you’re such an eejit for trusting a woman like that.”
When he reached a private mausoleum in the oldest part of the cemetery, he threw the car into park and shut off the engine. Christian knew this spot well. He’d not only filled some of these graves with notorious killers, but it was a peaceful place to come and think. Staring at the crypts and gravestones reminded him that he needed to do something valuable with his time. They say the dead don’t speak, but they do if you listen hard enough.
Just ask Wyatt.
Christian popped the trunk and got out. An owl hooted in the distance, and animals scurried about in the underbrush of the surrounding woods. The smell of moss, decomposing leaves, and wet earth hung heavy in the air. He rubbed his nose with the sleeve of his shirt, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing for a miracle. Keystone was an exceptional group, and he’d had high hopes for a lasting career.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
Christian suddenly lurched forward, pain lancing through his chest. Within seconds, his muscles seized from the unmistakable power of impalement wood. A black cloth covered his head before he slid off the trunk and fell onto his back, the wood pushing through the front of his chest.
Someone had managed to creep up on him, but he hadn’t heard the sound of human heartbeats to tip him off. His attacker tightened the cloth on his head by wrapping something around his neck, likely a rope or cord.
Fecking hell!
He listened to their footsteps moving toward the mausoleum up ahead. The door opened, and then a stone slab made a gritty sound as it moved. The person returned and lifted Christian with ease. Whoever it was didn’t seem particularly muscular, but they were certainly strong enough to move swiftly without a single muscle trembling. Unless she was flat chested, he had ruled out a woman.
Christian was immobile but still able to feel himself being placed inside a coffin with the dearly departed lying next to him. He waited for the man to speak but heard nothing.
That unnerved him more than anything. Men had a tendency to make a grand speech before committing murder or an act of revenge. Did he know this guy? God knows Christian had pissed off enough men in his time.
So it left him bemused when they laid him inside a crypt with a skeleton and covered it with the stone lid.
Then the door to the small mausoleum closed.
And a car drove away.
Christian was too stunned to even curse in his head. Whoever this shitebag was, he was a clever one. Christian cleared his mind, waiting for the car’s return. After an hour, the permanence of his entombment became a grim reality.
Trapped in a tomb with Martha Cleavy.
He’d specifically chosen this
grave to bury the body in because he thought Martha could use some company. This dried-up husk of a woman had once told Christian that he’d never meet a woman he deserved, that all he was good for was cleaning the horseshit from her boots. That was before he’d become a Vampire, back when he was just a young man trying to earn a few coins to better his life. Martha took pity and hired him to clean the muck and filth off her boots and horse’s hooves. He soon realized that this spinster had an ulterior motive—to seduce him, promising a higher position in her house if he’d only put forth a little “appreciation” for her kindness.
That was what Martha did. She found strapping young men who were destitute—men who were desperate enough to prostitute themselves to a plain woman with a stern face. And from what he’d heard, none of it involved the act of sex. Perhaps it did for some, but he suspected she wanted to avoid the risk of pregnancy or disease. One man told him that Martha had asked him to scrub her bedroom floor in the nude, while another mentioned something about kissing her fanny whenever she walked by him and lifted the front of her skirt. And in Irish speak, a woman’s fanny isn’t her bum. Before anyone in good society would catch on, she’d quickly discard those men like yesterday’s trash.
After he turned her down with an insult that she had a horse’s fanny, Martha did everything in her power to ensure that no one else in the community hired him for any odd jobs. Christian went two weeks without food, eating stale bread that a baker had tossed out for the dogs. That was when he resorted to a life of crime.
Martha said with absolute confidence that he would eventually come to his senses and lie with her, to which Christian replied, “Over my rotting corpse.”
Little had he known it would be hers.
Fecking Martha.
Even her coffin still bore the faint smell of her cheap perfume. If he could move, he would have rolled his eyes in the back of his head.
Viktor wasn’t going to call in a search party. Christian had led him to believe that he might not be returning as a member of Keystone, and Viktor wasn’t the sort of man who would browbeat him into staying. Everyone had the option to leave, but it came at a price. Viktor would just assume that Christian had fled to avoid having his memory scrubbed of everything he knew about Keystone.
