Midnight Predator dos-4

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  The cougar moved to intercept the boy, and Turquoise pounced, throwing her entire weight against the cat’s side. It snarled, turning on her.

  Luckily, the shape-shifter was just trying to contain Turquoise as it waited for its master to appear. Turquoise was grateful for the guard’s unwillingness to harm its employer’s property, and tumbled at the large cat recklessly, keeping it occupied as Eric scaled the fence.

  The hair on the back of Turquoise’s neck rose as a familiar aura brushed her senses.

  Daryl. She turned and struck in one movement. It’s just Daryl. Not Lord, not Master. Just Daryl.

  This creature was only another leech, no matter what else he had been to her in the past. He was vulnerable, and she had spent the last two years of her life learning how to make use of that fact. Unfortunately, without a weapon, she still stood about as much chance as a Hawaiian snowman. Still, she would fight rather than submit to this beast.

  Her first blow caught Daryl in the solar plexus; it was not as incapacitating a blow on a vampire as it would have been to a human, but it did hurt, and interrupted any attack he had been making. At the same time she knocked out his knee with a side kick, striking just below the joint in a move banned from martial arts competitions because it was crippling to a human.

  Crippling for a vampire meant he stumbled. The joint dislocated, and Daryl tumbled with a curse. A dislocated knee, which on a human might never completely heal, would take a vampire two or three minutes to recover from.

  Daryl had a low pain tolerance for one of his kind; as she fought, she saw that weakness come into play. He had been startled by her initial attack, and now pain was making him take too long to defend himself.

  A fight between a vampire and a human almost always goes one of two ways: either it ends instantly, or the human dies. A vampire is stronger, faster, and can heal more than any human. If a fight lingers, the human will always tire first. Once prepared for a fight, all a vampire needs to do is wait, providing minimal exertion to defend himself.

  She had a chance for one more attack while Daryl was bent over, a side kick to his temple. It was a risky move; he could catch her foot and tear it off if he recovered enough to react. However, a broken neck would get him out of her hair long enough for her to get away.

  Daryl did not manage to turn her attempt against her, but he did get out of the way to turn her paralyzing attack into a minimal nuisance.

  Nursing his injured knee, the vampire did not bother to stand. He swiped Turquoise’s back leg out from under her before she had recovered her balance from the miss, and the only thing she could do was control the fall.

  She let herself fall away from Daryl, so that when she landed she was the perfect distance for another kick to his already broken knee.

  She turned quickly, but Daryl was quicker. Still fighting from the ground, he dragged her to him and hit her squarely across the jaw. He did not need to bother striking sensitive areas or waiting for opportunity; his strength made any blow strong enough to daze.

  Turquoise turned her face away from the blow, moving with it to absorb the brunt of the force and retaliating at the same time. Sparks crossed her vision even as her attack snapped the weak floating rib off Daryl’s rib cage, driving it back and causing him to release her.

  He rolled away, and shoved himself up. She did the same, both of them momentarily too hurt to press an advantage.

  She got to her feet first; Daryl was still struggling with his knee. He wasn’t in too much of a hurry. Most vampires instinctively discounted humans as a threat, no matter how many kills a hunter had on her record or how the fight was going. Vampires were called “immortal,” after all. No human could kill them.

  Daryl was pushing up from his knees when Turquoise repeated her earlier attempted attack, striking his head hard and fast. She felt the impact all the way up her leg as the kick made contact, the resistance of bone that gave way with acrunch.

  His neck snapped, and the vampire tumbled back to the ground. A broken neck is paralyzing to any creature, even one that can survive and heal the injury.

  Turquoise hated running, but short of tearing Daryl’s head off, she knew no way to kill a vampire without a weapon. Like most humans, she wasn’t strong enough for bare-handed decapitation.

  But retreat chafed on her nerves. One thing Crimson always taught: eliminate your enemies. Leaving prey alive gave it a chance to recover and win the advantage next time. A second fight rarely went as well as the first.

  The cougar had fled somewhere during her fight with Daryl, probably distressed to see the vampire losing. Eric was waiting for her on the other side of the iron fence.

  She barely remembered scaling the fence. She remembered Eric asking if she was okay, and nodding sharply before leading the way into the forest behind Midnight. She had no idea how far away the town was, but she would not stop until they were out of Jaguar’s land.

  Later, she could examine the painful swelling of her jaw. Later, she could wash and bandage the wounds from the cougar’s claws. Later, she could pause to wonder what on earth she was going to do with a fourteen-year-old boy. Now, she just wanted to go to ground and disappear.

  They reached town at a slow limp at about noon. Eric obviously wasn’t used to so much walking, but he never complained. Turquoise’s adrenaline carried her through the many miles, leaving her with the focused energy and feeling of immortality that always followed a fight. More than anything, she wanted to go back and pound the cougar, which must have called to Daryl when Jaguar did not respond to its summons.

  Instead, she found a pay phone in some hole-in-the-wall town a couple miles down from the end of Jaguar’s territory. The street signs declared this to be Main Street, in some town called Logging.

  “Yes?” Nathaniel’s faint voice over the static-filled telephone wires was the sweetest sound she had ever heard.

  “It’s Turquoise,” she said quickly. “I need a place to stay for a couple days where I can’t be tracked.”

  “Until the waters cool?” Nathaniel responded. “I’ve got a place you can borrow. I’ll lend you some cash so you don’t get traced pulling out your funds. Tell me where you are and I’ll pick you up.”

  She told him, wondering how much this was going to cost her. It didn’t really matter though. She had made enough in Crimson—vampire hunting could be a lucrative business—that she could comfortably retire for the next seventy years if she wanted. Whatever price Nathaniel charged, it would be worth it.

  “Wait fifteen minutes so I can make a reservation for you, and then check into the inn down the street. I’m a few hours away, so you’ll have a chance to patch up and get some sleep.”

  Blissful advice.

  “I’ll see you soon,” he bid her. She responded in kind, and then found the phone dead in her hand.

  No barter, no price. Nathaniel was as proper a mercenary as there came, and when he made a deal, he kept it. He never forgot to include a price, but he had agreed to give his help without stating one, and couldn’t change the terms later.

  She would puzzle it out later. For now, she turned back to Eric. “Just a block more, and we can get some sleep.”

  The kid smiled.Smiled, after all he had been through, and despite the exhaustion that was clearly written on his features. Miracles do still happen after all.

  CHAPTER 17

  “CATHERINE, PUT THE BOY DOWN,” Daryl commanded, “and I won’t have to hurt him.”

  She reluctantly set Tommy down, though his small, trembling hand gripped hers tightly enough that her fingers were going numb. “Tommy, run,” she commanded, pushing him away.

  The boy hesitated, long enough that the creature reached forward and twined pale fingers in Tommy’s soft brown hair. “You love your sister, Thomas?” the creature asked softly, kneeling so he was looking the young child in the eye.

  “Let him go!” she shrieked, launching herself at the pair, trying to separate them. The creature simply glanced in her direction and ba
ckhanded her casually, a light tap compared to what he would do later.

  He released the boy and caught Catherine’s arm as she tried to hit him, brushing his fingers across her cheek. She jerked back from his touch. “Catherine—” he began, but before he could continue she lashed out, striking him in the throat with all the force of terror, hatred, and fury.

  The creature cursed, releasing her, and she was off in a sprint. She had barely reached the driveway when it caught up, and a shove sent her sprawling. Her palms and knees tore open as she struck the pavement, less than a foot away from her father’s body. Where was Tommy? Had he gotten away, or . . .

  “Catherine.” He dragged her to her feet, his grip on her wrist bruising. “Never hit me.” He hit back. She tasted blood in her mouth for a moment before she fell into the encroaching darkness.

  Turquoise woke to find herself coated in a sheen of cold sweat. She was lying on a bed in a room she did not know. The dream left a sour taste in her mouth, and agitation in her mind.

  She sat up quickly, and was rewarded by a series of shooting pains.

  Sunlight was streaming in through the nearby windows. She closed the curtains, which caused the throbbing in her head to subside a bit, and pushed her bitter history from her thoughts.

  Slowly, more recent memories returned to her. Nathaniel had picked her and Eric up, and brought them here. Driving through it, the town had seemed as familiar and as alien as all small towns were to her, though she hadn’t seen much before she had slept.

  Turquoise stood and forced herself to stretch. She walked to Eric’s room, wincing at each step she took; a glance through his partly open door revealed that he was still sleeping soundly. Then, having reassured herself that he was safe, she took a hot shower and put on clean clothes.

  “Is this yours?” she had asked, when Nathaniel had handed her the key to the house.

  He had nodded slightly. “I haven’t stayed here in a while, though. At the moment, it belongs to this girl here,” he had added, tossing her a leather wallet. Examining the contents, she had found a license with her picture on it, a platinum Visa, a bankcard, a library card, and three twenty-dollar bills. “Since you can’t tap into your accounts from here without being traced, I thought you could use a new identity with access to a little cash,” Nathaniel had explained. “I also took the liberty of swiping some of your clothing from your Bruja house; it’s in an overnight bag in the master bedroom’s closet.”

  She hadn’t ached so much then. During her sleep, all the muscles she had abused the evening before had stiffened.

  The house was a small one-story, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a wraparound porch. Though clean, it had a feeling of emptiness that their presence had not yet eased.

  The kitchen had a pale blue-marble linoleum floor, dark blue counters, and pine cupboards. The refrigerator was completely empty, and warm; Turquoise had to find the plug and turn the thing on. The burners on the stove looked unused, and the cupboards were equally bare. There were no pots or pans, no silverware, no paper towels or plastic bags, no toaster, and no can opener—a vampire’s house. Nathaniel didn’t need to eat here.

  There was, however, a phone and a phonebook. Pizza sounded like a grand breakfast. But first she had to call Nathaniel and find out what the hell was going on. She dialed his number from memory, and waited three rings before remembering that it was midmorning and Nathaniel was probably asleep.

  An answering machine clicked on, and a mechanical voice informed her, “There is no answer. Please leave a message after the tone.”

  “Nathaniel, I need to talk to you. Give me a call whenever you can.” She hesitated, and then awkwardly added, “Thanks,” before hanging up.

  Nathaniel didn’t approve of thanks. He always assured his clients that he did everything for his own gain, not theirs, and that gratitude was therefore out of place. Turquoise had believed him, until today. Twice, once when he had taken her from Daryl and now with all this, Nathaniel had helped her without asking for payment.

  Turquoise shook her head. He would call or he wouldn’t; until then, she might as well get settled and fed.

  She didn’t have long to wait before Eric emerged from his room. His stomach was rumbling as loudly as hers, and he had no objection to takeout.

  “I’ll go shopping sometime today,” she assured him, as they munched on their cheese pizzas. “If I can find a grocery store.” She frowned. “And someplace to buy silverware.” Shopping was probably her least favorite thing to do. A waste of time, by her book, it was an excellent practice in tedium.

  Eric nodded. “I saw a little houseware shop in town. We drove right past it. I can walk there.”

  Startled, Turquoise had to remind herself that Eric had been the human liaison to Jaguar’s town from Midnight. He was young, and depended on others for security, but he had taken on adult responsibilities in Midnight and hadn’t lost that experience now that he had left—temporarily anyway. Once Jeshickah was no longer a threat, Eric would probably want to return to Jaguar’s Midnight. His life was there.

  “I’ll drive you,” Turquoise offered. “I don’t want to split up.” Eric’s gaze fell, and she recognized that he was hurt. He didn’t want her to treat him like a kid. “Anyway, we need too much for you to carry it all back,” she assured him. He didn’t look like he bought the explanation, but she couldn’t soothe his ego. He didn’t think like a kid, or act like a kid, but that didn’t mean she felt any less protective.

  Eric’s houseware store proved a success; they found all they needed to stock the kitchen easily and hit the grocery store next. Turquoise wasn’t a picky cook—she usually ate cereal in the mornings and something canned in the evenings—so Eric insisted he would cook. She trailed along behind, unable to stop herself from scanning the aisles as if looking for threats.

  Her eye paused at a boy about her age, who looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t place him. He was browsing the Asian specialty food section, but happened to glance at her as she passed.

  The boy did a double take, and then turned. Turquoise started to fall instinctively into a fighting stance before she reminded herself that this boy was human and she was in a public area.

  “Cathy?” His voice held surprise, and wonder. “I haven’t seen you since . . . I guess since I went away to college. How are you?”

  She looked at Eric as if for help, but he was without answer. “I’m okay,” she answered vaguely.Who was this guy?Clearly, someone who had known her before Daryl. So many memories from that time had faded, unnaturally so. “How are you?”

  “I’m okay,” he answered, apparently unaware of her discomfort. “Graduated last spring. I’m a history major.” He laughed. “For all the good it will do me.”

  History . . . yes, she vaguely recalled a friend interested in history. Oh, she did remember this guy now. She had dated him, when she had been a junior and he had been a senior. But she could not for her life remember his name.

  He had been away at college on her eighteenth birthday, when all hell had entered her life.

  “Where are you now?” he asked.

  “What?”Great, intelligent conversation, Turquoise.

  “You were looking at Smith when I fell off the edge of the earth,” he reminded her cheerfully. “Did you end up going there?” She was spared the need to respond when the boy noticed Eric. “Is that Tommy?”

  Turquoise shook her head, and her voice was just a little too sharp as she answered, “No.” Seeing the boy’s confusion, she lied, “He’s the neighbor’s kid. I’m baby-sitting for him.”

  “Oh. That’s cool,” he answered.

  She had to get out of here. The last thing she ever wanted to do was chat with Greg.

  Greg. That was his name. Randomly, she remembered helping him with a senior prank. They had stolen one of the dissection rats from the bio lab, put bread around it, covered it with plastic wrap, and planted it in the middle of the sandwich bar in the cafeteria. What kind of bad l
uck had put him into her path now?

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  The words came out a little sharp. Greg looked startled, but responded with the same light humor. “I’ve got an apartment in town. I know, I said I’d never live in a small town, but I guess I was wrong.” He checked his watch, and winced. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll give you a call sometime. We should get back in touch. Do you live nearby?”

  Didn’t he know Catherine Minate wasdead? Her body had never been found, of course, but she was as dead as any corpse in the ground. Turquoise still had some of her memories, though all of them had faded to a frightening extent, but she was not the innocent, mischievous girl who had planned pranks and gone to parties with Greg.

  “I’m in town, but I just moved in. . . . I don’t know the number.” That at least was honest.Please, leave me alone, she added mentally. If she hadn’t been worried about running into him again, as she was likely to do if they were living in the same small town, she would have lied.

  She did not know why she felt the incredibly strong desire to run, but at the moment, she wanted to flee from this specter of her past.

  “Oh, well, my apartment should be in the phone book,” Greg said, undaunted. More quietly, he added, “I’ve missed you, Cathy.”

  So have I, Turquoise thought. She missed Cathy Minate more than anyone else could.

  “I’ll see you around,” she said as Greg hoisted his basket of groceries.

  “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

  She fled the aisle as soon as he had turned away. Quickly Eric finished shopping, and just as quickly they paid and hurried to Turquoise’s car.

  “So who was that?” Eric asked.

  “An old friend,” Turquoise answered vaguely. She looked at the store, but could not see Greg from where they were parked.

  Eric turned toward her with worry drawn on his face. “He talked like you two were close.”

  “He and Cathy were close,” Turquoise amended.