“Couldn’t sleep . . .” came the ethereal reply.
None of them could rest. Then why not go back to work?
Real work.
Dawn gestured to Kiko. “When you’re done here would you mind chatting with me for a few? In private?”
“Sure.” Kiko raised an eyebrow at her while motioning at the table. “Breisi’s divulging the secrets of her healing goo so all of us can make it. Don’t you want to—?”
“Maybe later.”
She managed a casual smile—acting!—then went to the stairs, climbing them even as her body protested. Muscles, hurting.
Soul . . . hurting.
She avoided thinking too hard about it, instead entering the foyer, where a black-clawed iron chandelier reigned over the heavy curtain-blocked windows. An archaic suit of armor guarded a stone mantel and, above that, another portrait rested.
Right now, there was only a background column of red flame, but it usually held more. The Fire Woman, Dawn called her. She scared her with her taunting gaze.
But maybe Fire was on some job for the team since the portrait didn’t show her body. Good. Dawn could deal with most of the other Friends, but this one . . .
The scent of jasmine swept by and almost knocked Dawn over.
Okay, maybe Fire Woman was home.
FOUR
THE KIKO VIEW
WHAT’S your deal, you crank?” Dawn said as she recovered her balance.
Around her, the air was still, the scent of jasmine gone. Normally, she would’ve just rolled her eyes at something so weird and dramatic happening around the Limpet place, but now she knew better. Besides, this wasn’t her first run-in with a Friend. Not long ago, a female spirit named “Kalin” had given Dawn trouble during one of her stranger encounters with Jonah. He had ordered Kalin to subdue Dawn while initiating a discomfiting sex game that included a blindfold, and the spirit had seemed all too happy to make Dawn squirm.
Wait. Now that she thought about it, Jonah had seemed off that day, too. He hadn’t acted like the man . . . or whatever he was . . . she’d come to know.
But back to more immediate matters—was Kalin the one messing with her right now? Dawn had no clue what the spirit’s vendetta against her might be, but if that was how it was, then she wasn’t above throwing down with the ghostie.
She got into a readied stance, expecting another attack while scanning the foyer.
Kiko’s voice sounded from behind her. “I’m not gonna ask.”
Dawn relaxed, facing him as he shut and locked the door to the lab stairway. His forehead was furrowed as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants and approached.
“Just thought I’d get some practice in.” Dawn’s to-do list didn’t include complaining about a crotchety spirit. “So, you have a few minutes? I need to bounce a few things off you.”
Clearly wary, he raised an eyebrow. “Until the boss calls us together again, I’ve got lots of time.”
Here it went—an investigation that would decide everything from here on out. She was ready to play hardball if it got her what she needed.
Information about Jonah’s intentions.
“I’m leaving the team,” she said, going full-throttle bullshit. Or maybe not.
For a second, Kiko just stared at her. But little by little, his blue eyes grew wider. “You can’t do that.”
“Kik, I know you’ve got these vibes about me being the ‘key’ to beating the Underground”—he’d envisioned her covered in the blood of a vampire, victorious, no big interpretation there—“but I don’t get how that could ever happen.”
“What do you mean?” And . . . cue Slightly Panicked Kiko.
“First of all, how am I going to be covered in vamp blood if Jonah keeps us locked down in this house and away from the big fight? Doesn’t that make you go ‘hmmm’?”
Panicked Kiko gave way to Relieved Kiko. “Listen, I only saw the end result, Dawn, not how it all comes about. Is that all you’re worried about, the lack of brawling? Yeesh.”
Answer a question with a question; that was how to conduct an interrogation. “What I’m really wondering is why should I stick by a boss I don’t trust? Because you tell me to?”
Kiko opened his mouth, but Dawn cut him off.
“Weren’t you the one who just told me not to trust what I see? Excuse me if I’m confused.”
He raked a hand through his hair. A sheen of sweat formed on his upper lip. “You can’t leave, Dawn.”
“Watch me.”
In an Oscar-worthy moment, she even took a step toward the door. He grabbed her arm before she could make any progress, leaving her to wonder if she would’ve really walked out. If she would’ve deserted the closest place she had to a home.
“Wait, would you?” Calmer Kiko took her hand in both of his, cupping it, begging as much as he would probably allow himself to. “I don’t know what’s been going on between you and the boss—I mean, yeah, I kinda know, and I don’t wanna go there—but I’m sure he’d do anything to get you to stay. We need you.”
“Where have I heard that before?” Time to soften her tone. “Kik, I’m not like you. I didn’t come loaded with that noble loyalty you and Breisi have. I should be out there looking for my own dragon to slay. Eva could be halfway across the country by now, far away from the Underground she turned her back on last night.”
“Look at this another way. . . . Wouldn’t supporting the boss in bringing down the Master—the thing that planned Breisi’s death—go a long way in satisfying you for now? Then you can get Eva.”
A flicker of interest lit through her, but she doused it. “I’m not stupid enough to think Jonah can go into that vamp lair and come out the winner. Have you thought about what happens if he loses? Will the Underground hunt us down for being a part of Jonah’s posse? Are we going to be sitting ducks?”
“The boss can handle any and all vamps.”
“And you know that because . . . ?”
He shuffled his oversized feet. “He’s done it before.”
Dawn took her hand away from Kiko’s. “And that’s where I have to start trusting in this whole process again. Not going to happen. I’m not staying around to be Jonah’s pawn anymore.”
Wow, she sounded pretty confident about all this—almost enough to convince even herself.
“We’re not pawns,” Kiko said, not looking at her.
“Oh? Then tell me all about what Jonah wants with these vamps. Tell me exactly why he’s going after this Underground. Something more than a pawn would know.”
Her voice seemed to bounce off the walls. She didn’t care if Jonah could hear all this. She hoped he could.
Shaking his head, the psychic looked at a loss again.
“You don’t know why,” Dawn said.
“I just feel I’m doing the right thing.” His eyes seemed so honest, clear. “It’s like the first time I caught a bad guy by using my talents—I knew I couldn’t stand by while he raped his way around L.A. when I had the power to stop him. With these vamps, how can I just sit around knowing they’re out there? How can I not help?”
“You really think the boss’s intentions are for the best, that he isn’t a megalomaniac who’s using us to take over this Underground?”
“Yes.” Kiko swallowed. “Yes, I believe in him.”
In spite of his odd reaction, she still wondered how anyone could go through life with so much faith. If there was one thing she knew about herself, it was that she was incapable of being so pure. Eva’s supposed death had warped her from the beginning, and it wasn’t so easy to change.
Kiko had eased his hand over Dawn’s again in a tacit plea for her to stop doubting, to stay.
It was time for her to strike. Now or never—before she lost courage.
“If I just knew everything you did about Jonah, maybe I’d . . .” She allowed the thought to wisp away.
Jackpot. Kiko grimaced, as if debating with himself.
“You know more than what
Jonah revealed to me last night,” Dawn said quietly, bending down to his height. “Shit, you have been withholding while I’ve been bumbling around in ignorance.”
“What I know might not be what it seems on the surface.” Like his upper lip, his hand was moist. “There was never a need for you to know what I . . . Dawn, the boss has good reasons to keep us in the dark. He’s learned the hard way with his past teams.”
Jonah had already mentioned something about this difficulty with his previous hunters. It made her wonder exactly what had occurred during his searches for other Undergrounds, what had become of the vampire communities in the end.
Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if Jonah was ruling all the Undergrounds he’d conquered. What if he was actually using this house as headquarters and the Friends as regents? What if he was a bad guy, just like Eva had said?
Dawn got back on track. “Okay, Kik, so basically, when the boss keeps information from us, he’s protecting us. I’m not so down with that kind of leadership.”
“Think about this: what if one of us gets captured by the Underground? Those vamps can mind screw. If we knew everything about the boss, they’d take that information and use it to destroy him.”
Okay, that made sense, but it didn’t make her happy.
“Besides,” Kiko added, “I know that, one time, there was a team member who really bungled an operation because she knew too much and decided to act on her own great wisdom instead of listening to Jonah. He doesn’t want a repeat.”
“And how many team members has he lost because they wanted to know why they were fighting?”
“Don’t know.”
“Big surprise there.” She patted his hand. “Good luck with all that, okay? I’ll be pulling for you guys—”
“Stop.” Now his face was truly scrunched, as if he were downing a bitter pill.
He didn’t say anything for a full minute, but Dawn waited him out, knowing he was close to doing what she wanted. He believed so much in his premonition about her being “key” that he would move mountains to make her stay. More powerfully, she suspected that he wanted to make up for all the psychic damage done by the painkillers he’d been taking; he wanted to prove that he was still a meaningful part of the team—a person who mattered.
She was depending on that.
When she made a show of getting up to leave, that did it. He yanked her toward the massive, curved staircase that led to the hushed second floor. When they reached the top, he guided her past the portraits of sleeping Friends: women so beautiful they made Dawn cringe in self-aware inferiority.
Finally, they came to Jonah’s office at the end of the gloomy hall, the scent of that minted something waiting as Kiko pushed open the door.
Inside, bookshelves towered, offering the scent of must. Burgundy drapes blocked the windows in fallen glory. A huge plasma television screen loomed like an eye that was closed in its own temporary slumber. Below that, a wide desk stood resplendent, the leather seat behind it empty.
Throughout the rest of the room, more portraits hovered, filled with sultry women at rest. But one painting didn’t feature a person: right now, it showed only a field of fire. Once, Dawn had seen a shape in it—but only once. The subject had been hiding its face while a red cape shrouded its body. Long, dark hair had been the one discernable feature. Even though the painting brought to mind the Fire Woman over the downstairs mantel, there’d been something slightly off. . . .
Kiko took Dawn to a door in the room’s corner. It blended seamlessly with the wall, making the entrance all but invisible.
Without any fanfare, he cracked it open, then paused. “The only reason I’m doing this is because things are coming to an end. Besides, if I know what I do, then why can’t you know the same thing, too?”
“Now you’re talkin’, Dr. Seuss.”
Serious Kiko forged on. “I think the boss has always known that I found this out, but he never did anything about it.”
Dawn caught a glimmer of—what was it?—fear? in her coworker’s eyes. It shut her up good and well.
In fact, for the first time, she wondered if there was more to Kiko and Jonah’s relationship than merely trust. Was it possible that the psychic’s obedience had been earned through some terror, too? Was it the same with Breisi?
Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to be doing this.
Kiko looked away from her and into the dark room. “This isn’t off-limits, so don’t be afraid about coming in.”
“I’m not afraid.”
A soft laugh was his first response. Then a dragging pause. Then, “I’m not sure what all of this means anyway, but . . . Ah, what the hell, here we go.”
He pushed the door open all the way and pulled her into the room with him. Her breath caught on the same time-stalled scent you would find in a museum.
Kiko hit the lights and, at the blaze of soft gold, Dawn took a step back, especially when her brain registered what she was seeing. An armory? When her eyes adjusted, she saw it was a small collection.
At the far end of the slim room, a suit of heavy leather armor stood bodiless while on display. It seemed to guard all the weapons posted on the walls and stands: bows and arrows, maces, swords, pikes, lances, spears, crossbows, staffs, muskets, and rifles—all sorts of firearms. Handheld goodies.
“Interesting,” Dawn said noncommittally. “But . . . ?”
“Here.”
Kiko led her over to the wall, where a dagger was posted. It was simply designed except for a symbol etched into the wooden hilt. A deep, rough C. An identifying mark?
He didn’t touch it. “When the boss first hired me, I was poking around the house, just like you’ve done a million times.”
Dawn nodded, finding no shame in admitting to her nosiness.
“And I came across this hovel.” Kiko gestured around. “As you can imagine, I got kinda excited.”
“You started touching everything.” Dawn knew that Kik had a definite hard-on for warfare; this was a guy who splooged like a porn star when she used her whip chain, for God’s sake.
But then she understood what he was getting at. “When you grabbed stuff, you sensed images or feelings through touch.” Besides having telepathic and precognitive talents, he had psychometric powers, too.
“Yeah, I got a reading. Someone was holding on to this dagger throughout the memory. The rest of the objects in here come up empty. I can’t get a damned thing from them.”
“ ‘Someone’ was holding it?” He’d made the word sound spooky.
Sweat had really started to bead over Kiko’s upper lip again. He fidgeted, and Dawn wondered if he was nervous or was feeling the effects of his cold-turkey pill withdrawal.
“I’m not sure who’s in this vision,” he finally said, coming to stare at the dagger. “I’m not really sure I want to know.”
Gaaaaah.
But she couldn’t help wondering if Jonah had been so lenient about Kiko’s touchy curiosity in this room because any residual readings the psychic was bound to come up with didn’t concern the boss much. Shouldn’t that make her feel better?
Then why keep these weapons?
“So,” she said, forcing herself to move on, “if this memory has nothing to do with the boss, why are you sharing it with me? How’s that going to make me stay?”
“I’m showing you what I do know, and that I’m not covering anything up. And . . .” A drop of sweat trickled past his mouth. “I’m not even sure it’s not the boss in the vision I got from this dagger.”
Okay. Freaking out now.
“Once,” Kiko added, “I dragged Breisi up here and actually took her into the memory with me. She didn’t last through hardly any of it.”
It took Dawn a second to comprehend that. Breisi, who had the calmest guts out of any team member, save for Jonah.
Kiko kept on going. “She told me never to bring her with me into a vision again. That’s why I don’t allow you guys to ride my skin, to touch me while I get readings. It�
��s too much for most people to handle.”
Now Dawn wondered if he was just scaring her off. Good try. “Are we going to do this or not?”
“If I have to.”
She wanted this, the answers—any answers. If she experienced what Kiko had, maybe she could decide for herself whether this vision belonged to Jonah. After all, he’d been inside her. Wouldn’t that give her judgment an advantage over Kiko’s?
She moved to the dagger, holding out her hand, pulse banging.
“I’m ready,” she said, oxygen tangled in her lungs.
Without preamble, Kiko took her hand and put it over his own, almost belligerently, as if he hoped he would teach her a lesson.
As he touched the dagger, ice thrust into her chest, her head, and she jerked back.
But she was unable to disconnect from what she was seeing. . . . Sitting at a long dining table in a room composed of stone, torches flaming to provide light that wavered over the tapestry-ridden walls—sanguine hunting scenes.
There were many men at the table, all facing front, all silent as they watched whatever was playing out before them. Rough men, bearded and leathered, hunched over their dinner plates. Meat and grease clung to their facial hair.
Looking down, she saw that her hands weren’t her own: they were big, strong, callused, one of them gripping the edge of a wooden table as a plate of half-devoured lamb and bread waited for her to finish them off. Her . . . his other hand was clenching a dagger, and it was coated with strands from the meat.
Then a blast of something coppery, something foul—feces and urine—hit her full force.
Slowly, she raised her gaze from the table, and she saw the reason for the stink. A nude man, drenched with blood, his mouth stretched open in sheer terror. His wrists and ankles were tied to two posts, blood and waste dripping from his body to the ground. One eyeball hung out of a socket, and upon closer look, the skin had been flayed from his legs.
Next to the victim, a commanding man stood. It wasn’t that he was tall; no, in fact, he was built like a cannon, strong and stocky. But his face—his face. The thin shape of it boasted a long nose with flaring nostrils and large green eyes that left no doubt as to who was in charge. He held a bloody dagger as he assessed his prey.
Break of Dawn Page 4
