Charissa Dufour - Misguided Allies (The Void Series Book 2)

by Unknown

  “Chad?” scoffed Sam.

  “Yeah. Him?”

  “Ha! One, he’s not my boyfriend anymore. Two, no way in hell.”

  “There’s got to be somewhere else you can go.”

  Sam cleared her throat. “You don’t get it. Here in the Res, people can barely feed their own families. I already work for Heywood. I am valuable to him. If he wants me to stay within his employ, he will take me in. Anyone else will have to do it out of the goodness of their hearts… and there’s no one here with that much goodness.”

  “Then…then come live with me,” Roman said to the ground.

  “What?” Sam asked, choking on her own disbelief. “You’re joking right?”

  Roman glanced up at her. “No.”

  “I can’t leave the Res.”

  “I mean… at the Admin building.”

  “And when the project is over?”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “They’d never let me, even if I wanted to.”

  “You don’t want to?” Roman asked, stepping closer to Sam, her awkward bundle bumping into their shins and keeping him from closing the distance.

  Sam suddenly felt her face heat with a blush. Images of their last intense encounter flooded her senses. Though he was nearly a foot away, she could still feel the heat of his skin on hers, taste the salt of his sweat on her tongue, and the pounding of his pulse against her chest. She wanted nothing more than to follow him up to his penthouse and partake of all the visions clouding her mind, but the more she thought on her fantasies, the more her gift pressed against her boundaries.

  Reality came back with a painful thud.

  “No,” she said, sounding almost believable.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I don’t care,” she said, prying her bundle from his hand and walking away without a backward glance.

  As she emerged from the narrow alleyway, the cold wind slapped her in the face, cooling her heated body and reminding her how close she had come to throwing it all away. She made it to the edge of Heywood’s neighborhood before the next interruption came.

  “Sam,” came another voice she didn’t want to hear.

  Can’t I walk two feet without being propositioned? she thought to herself as she kept walking.

  A strong hand caught her arm and pulled her to a stop. She turned to glare at Chad. His timing was just too good. Had her mother or brother sent Chad after her? She was growing downright paranoid.

  “What’s this?” he asked, eyeing her bundle as though he was actually surprised to find her burdened down by her scanty possessions.

  His eyebrows narrowed as realization dawned. Chad knew the conflict between her and her father too well not to guess at what had finally happened.

  “He hurt you?” he asked, his eyes scanning across her face.

  Sam swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. She hadn’t expected Chad to worry over her wellness. Chad wasn’t the type to worry about the stressful “adult” stuff. He was a child in so many ways, naive to the cruel world around them. Or at least that was what Sam had always thought of him.

  Maybe, just maybe, she’d been wrong.

  She cleared her throat again. “No.”

  “You’re mom?” asked Chad, his brows pulling together in an even tighter frown.

  Sam felt even more tears press against her already tired, burning eyes. She tipped her head back, willing the tears into her eyes. Chad reached out and squeezed her hand.

  “She okay?”

  Sam nodded, only looking at her ex-boyfriend when she was sure her tear ducts would obey.

  “He kick you out?”

  Again, Sam nodded.

  “C’mon, you can come stay with us.”

  This finally got a reaction out of Sam. She jerked her hand free of Chad’s.

  “Thank you, but that’s not necessary,” she stated in a harsh tone. “I’m going to Heywood’s.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me, Sam,” snapped Chad, his gentle demeanor dropped. “We’re practically your family. You’re coming home with us, not some murdering vampire.”

  “We are not practically family. We broke up. Get that through your thick skull. Heywood is my employer. He’ll take me in. I don’t want your charity.”

  “It’s not charity if you’ll just marry me, dammit!”

  “No!”

  “Why not!”

  “Because I don’t love you. And you don’t love me. I’ve told you before, I’m not going to marry you just because our parents want it, just because our clans want it. Do you actually want it? Tell me the truth Chad? Do you want to go to bed with a Void?” Sam asked, spitting out the word.

  To Chad’s credit, he didn’t flinch. In fact, he actually looked as though he was hurt by her accusation.

  “You may not love me,” he growled, “but I love you. Fine. Go to Heywood’s if that’s what you want, but know that when he hurts you, you have a family to turn to.”

  With that, he turned and stormed away.

  As if on cue, the winter clouds opened up, dumping a heavy load of wet, sticky snow. The crowds let out a collective cry of surprise and began to dash for their destinations. Sam stared at Chad’s retreating back for a second before turning and continuing on to Heywood’s house.

  She reached it, wet through, and pounded on his door. A werewolf answered, staring bleary-eyed at her before opening the door wide enough to permit Sam and her now-damp bundle.

  “What do you want?” growled the female werewolf, sounding more like her wolf-self than her human half.

  “None of your business,” Sam said as she started her way up the stairs.

  The other non-vampire members of Heywood’s enterprise had never appreciated Sam, and not because she was a Void, but because Heywood had declared Sam off limits in regards to feeding. They resented her position among Heywood’s upper-echelon. She didn’t care. Let them hate her. Everyone else did too. What were a few more?

  “Heywood’s sleeping.”

  “No shit, Breena,” Sam snapped as she took the last couple steps two at a time.

  Sam didn’t worry about being quiet. In her limited experience, Heywood slept like the dead. In retrospect, he technically was dead. She tucked that thought away for later consideration, along with Chad and a thousand other thoughts, and closed the door to her purple and lavender room. Maybe she could convince the vampire to let her change the colors now that she would be staying here more permanently. Sam took a few minutes to unpack her things enough to give them a chance to dry out before leaving.

  On her way out the front door she spotted Breena glaring at her from her downstairs bedroom, positioned beside the front door in order to allow her to play gatekeeper. Sam did not envy Breena’s position. No doubt Breena was kept up all hours of the day and night watching over the door, harassing those wanting entrance, and being harassed in equal turns.

  Sam braved the snow as she charged back to the main streets. She ran southward, down to Carl’s building, jumped over a growing pile of snow, and sloshed into the half-covered courtyard. A woman grumbled at her as she slipped past her, but Sam ignored her as she jogged along the walkway, finally stopping in front of Carl’s apartment.

  Carl’s mother answered the door, a tired smile spreading across her face.

  “Sam, hi. Haven’t seen you in ages.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Harmon,” Sam said as she gave the older woman a wet hug.

  “Carl’s in his room. I’m off to work.”

  Sam nodded before heading back to Carl’s room. Mrs. Harmon always seemed to be leaving for work or just coming home. She found Carl in his usual place, at his desk in front of his forbidden computer. Sam tried not to glare at the innocuous device that had ruined her life. After all, had it not been for the small, glowing box, she would not now be kicked out of her family’s home, living with a blood-drinking vampire, and hated by the entire Reservation. Well, more hated than before.

 
Sam swallowed her anger before it could creep into her face and reveal itself.

  “Sam,” Carl said as he turned around. “What are you doing here?”

  Sam stopped in the doorway, surprised by his question.

  “I was wondering if you could work some of your techie magic,” she said, waving at his computer.

  “Oh? What for?”

  “Well, can you find anything out about the murders that have been happening in the Res?”

  “It’s not magic, Sam. You know that right?”

  “It’s just an expression, Carl.”

  Carl let out a sigh before nodding. “Right. Umm… Let me see what I can find.”

  Carl turned back to his computer and began clicking away at the keyboard. Sam took a seat on his bed and leaned back, ready to be patient. She was just beginning to drift to sleep when the clicking stopped.

  “I’m not really finding anything,” Carl said. “Just the usual fed nonsense. There was a murder. It was a mystic. Yadda, yadda, yadda.”

  “No suspects?”

  “They think it was a vampire. The usual.”

  “Do they make any mention of the two recent murders being linked together?”

  Carl stared at her for a moment before speaking. “What two murders?”

  “Brian Peterson and Chris Green,” Sam replied as though it were obvious.

  “Oh, those two murders.”

  “Have there been others?”

  “No. No. I’ll look.”

  Carl turned back to his computer and poked around a little longer. Sam watched him, not understanding anything he did as he clicked and typed.

  “Nope. I can’t find anything in their files suggesting they are linked.”

  “Hmmm. Can you find anything about the new vampires that were just brought into the Res?”

  “In the incident reports?”

  “No. In general.”

  “Oh. Um… That will take some more digging.”

  “I got nowhere to go,” Sam said as she lounged back against the wall.

  “Well I do,” snapped Carl. “I’ve got an appointment.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry, Carl,” Sam said, climbing to her feet. “I didn’t realize.”

  “No, Sam. You never do. You just waltz in here and snap your fingers and expect me to produce results. You don’t ask, you just tell me to do stuff for you. Well, I can’t just get you information whenever you want it. You know this is illegal, right? You know I could go to Solitary for you, right?

  “Sheesh, Sam. Sometimes you can be the most selfish girl I’ve ever met!”

  Sam flinched at his stinging words. In their long years of friendship, Sam had never heard Carl so much as raise his voice, much less yell at anyone. Not even to the kids who had bullied him during their school years. She wanted to yell back. She wanted to tell them that she had just spent a week in Solitary, and many weeks before, to protect his secret. She wanted to tell him that she had lost her home, her family, and her job to protect the secret of his illegal and useless hobby, but she didn’t. She bit down her tongue, swallowed her pride, and forced the tears back.

  Slowly, Sam nodded, turned away, and left his room.

  Chapter Seven

  Sam wandered away from Carl’s apartment in a daze. In a few short hours the last of her allies had spurned her. She knew their reasons. She knew their reasons were valid, and yet her reasons were valid too. What was the saying her mother loved? Stuck between a rock and a hard place?

  Well, she was good and stuck.

  She knew hot tears were streaking down her cheeks yet again, but she didn’t care. The construction workers had left for their lunch break and Sam found herself weaving through the new plastic structures of the port, unaware of where her feet fell until her tattoo began to burn gently against her skin. Gradually, the uncomfortable heat of her tattoo drew her attention away from her thoughts.

  Sam stopped her ambling movements and focused on her gift. It had felt something too subtle for her to notice.

  There was another fae within the maze of half-built structures, and that fae was on the brink of death. The fading power coiled out toward her, as though calling her to him. Sam turned and took off at a run, her own personal hurts forgotten. She vaulted over plastic pylons, rounded immobile cranes, and ducked under low-hanging wires until she came upon the limp body of a middle-aged fae. He was slung over a half wall that looked as though it would eventually be part of a large picture window, his upper half supported by an enormous spiral of aircraft cable placed in what would be the inside of the building. One leg was propped up on a large tool box; the other hung a few inches off the ground.

  Sam didn’t hesitate as she grabbed the loose folds of his thick jacket and pressed the fabric against the bite wound to his neck, staunching the slight trickle of blood as she settled onto her haunches. A strange burn mark marred his cheek. It didn’t look like it came from fire, but Sam couldn’t comprehend what had made it.

  The fae swallowed, as though working moisture back into his parched mouth.

  “The… the…”

  “Sssshhhh,” she said. “Save your strength.”

  “The amulet.”

  “Who did this?” she asked, completely forgetting her order to save his strength.

  He didn’t answer, never getting the chance. Sam let her power out, not to take from him but to taste his fae gift and identify him. He was a necromancer—a controller of the dead.

  Though she didn’t know every fae inside the Reservation, she knew there was only one true necromancer within the walls of the Res. Sam fell onto her back side, noticing how the fae’s blood had soaked through the fabric and stained her hand.

  As Sam rubbed against the stain, a red hair that didn’t match the victim fell away. Her tired mind ran back over the quick exchange. What amulet?

  Whatever the vampires had taken from the necromancer, it held substantial power. What would a necromancer have that vampires would…?

  Sam paused in her deliberation. Vampires. Dead vampires.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  Sam flinched, banging her head against the wooden saw-horse she was leaning against before looking up into the eyes of an irate FMB officer.

  “Afternoon, Captain Reynolds,” she said.

  “Don’t ‘afternoon’ me, Sam. What the hell is going on here?”

  “I just found him, sir. Tried to stop the bleeding,” she replied, showing him the smeared stain on her palm.

  Sam assumed pure honesty was her best option in this case.

  “Get up,” he ordered, fingering his sidearm.

  Sam swiftly obeyed, raising her hands in a “surrender” pose.

  “Oh, put your hands down,” he spat. “Did you see anything?”

  “I found him like this. The only thing I touched was his jacket, using the fabric to try and stop the flow of blood.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “He said ‘the amulet’ before he died.”

  “Why is it that you always seem around where there’s trouble?” Reynolds asked, an unusual smile pulling at his lips.

  Reynolds wasn’t unattractive, as far as humans went. Unlike most feds, he worked out on a regular basis, with a slim body hidden under the layers of his winter gear. All the same, he was identical to his brothers-in-arms—bloated with power.

  “It’s not like I plan it,” she said, all the little alarms in her head going off at once.

  Something about the arrogant, angry fed was different today.

  “You know I could put you in the box for lying to me.”

  “I told you the truth. Besides, you could put me in Solitary for any reason at all.”

  “True,” he hummed, stepping nearer with an off-putting smile. “Of course, there is something you could do to keep in my good graces.”

  Sam felt her stomach drop into her knees. “And what is that?”

  “I think you know.”

  She swallowed the bile rising in her throat.
She had to be smart. A direct rejection would only anger him, and an angry Reynolds was the last thing she needed. If she was going to help Heywood solve these murders she needed to be outside of solitary confinement. Maybe, just maybe, if Reynolds thought he had a chance with her he wouldn’t throw her in the box.

  “Why would you want me?” she asked, trying her best to act coy, though she had never done so before.

  Chad had never needed coy from her, and there hadn’t been enough time with Roman for anything close to foreplay.

  “I’m sure you can guess,” said Reynolds, closing the gap and brushing a lock of white hair out of her eyes. “Your very alienness makes you intriguing.”

  Sam tried not to cringe at his attempt at a compliment. She knew she looked unusual for both a human and a fae, but she didn’t want to be reminded of the fact.

  “So are you really saying what I think you’re saying?” she asked, all attempts at seduction lost.

  Reynolds rolled his eyes.

  “Sheesh, Sam. Do I have to spell it out for you?” Reynolds asked. “I take you as my mistress and you stay out of solitary confinement.”

  Sam swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. She could practically hear Heywood telling her to take the offer, and the idea made her sick. The very thought of Reynolds touching her made her stomach turn. But a free pass within the Reservation would make her job that much easier. It wouldn’t keep the guards from shooting her if she tried to escape, but it would keep her from time served if she were caught trading drugs or collecting blood from their various pick up points along the wall. Heywood’s greed would push her into it if he knew about Reynolds’ offer.

  “Can I think on it?” she asked to give herself more time.

  Reynolds smiled, his hand still cupping her cold cheek. He let his fingers run down her neck, slowly pulling it away. Finally, he nodded.

  “Sure. But don’t take too long. Now get out of here before I call this in.”

  Sam bit down on her lower lip and nodded before jogging away.

  Her mind spun as she worked her way northward toward Heywood’s house. What was she going to tell him when she got there, assuming he was even awake. Obviously she would have to explain about her parents and the latest murder, but what about Reynolds? Did he really need to know that a fed wanted to strike a deal of an unsavory nature? Her gut told her not to tell and, generally, she trusted her gut. Heywood would want her to accept Reynolds’ offer, and that was not an option. Not even for Carl could she lower herself to become a prostitute.