The dresser.
On my way by, my hand darted out and snatched the tranq gun holstered underneath it. My fingers wrapped around the familiar grip and I gave it a yank, spun, both hands locked, and I squeezed the trigger without hesitation.
Twice.
Two darts hit him in the chest. Perfect shot. Two should do it—hell, one should do it, as it was enough to take down anything that burned through drugs like supernaturals did.
His head rolled to the side. Eyelids dropped, rose, dropped, rose again but only halfway. He crumpled to his knees hard enough that the floor shook, vibrating under me.
And he smiled. There was a flicker of Nate there, my Nate. “I’m in love with you, you know.”
He slumped down.
My face was wet, my chest heaved—belatedly I realized I was sobbing like a fool. I kept the gun trained on him as his eyes closed at last, his expression peaceful as it had been the entire time he slept in his coffin.
What the hell had I done?
Chapter Three
Triple Date
I set the tranq gun down on the floor and rubbed violently at my cheeks. Blinked until I was sure I’d stopped crying.
Okay. So my boyfriend was a crazy vampire warlock who tried to kill me. Hardly the worst dating mistake I’d made in three hundred years.
With no telling how quickly he’d burn through the tranquilizers, first I needed him restrained, then I could get help. Decent plan and once I got my feet under me, my legs working, I felt a little more confident about implementing it. My sharp heels clicked on the hardwood, sound bouncing off the walls and too loud in the silent space, stretching my nerves even more taut. I tried the closet doors, found they opened easily—hopefully sleep killed any barriers he had up.
Clothes hung from racks on my right, all the way to the end of the room where multi-angle, full length mirrors waited. The girl who stared back at me was pale with red-rimmed eyes, splotches on her cheeks from crying, and far from the pressed, put together business woman who’d left to meet Craig earlier.
I ignored her and went to the left, where racks of shoes and drawers with unmentionables waited. And also guns, because I liked them near my expensive footwear: accessories should be sorted together. But I skipped the weaponry, rose on my tiptoes, and pulled down ropes, shackles, and chains. The real heavy duty stuff, not sex toys. Stuff I had for when the other orphaned vampires I’d rescued were a little crazy and needed a time out. I hauled the mass of it down, metal clinking and rattling, and dust puffing up because I hadn’t touched them in a while.
I crept back into my bedroom, peered around the corner. My heart eased a little because he was still out, sleeping peacefully.
My hands shook as I snapped manacles on his ankles, glancing up the whole time to ensure he slept, not even letting myself think about what I was doing. If I thought, I’d worry, and if I worried, I’d lose myself and lose time. Next I bound his wrists behind him. Fed chains through them and the ones at his ankles. Each piece clicked in place and metal shone white, harsh against his skin. My fingers lingered for a moment on his, dipping into the creased palm of his hand.
I’m sorry.
The last words I’d said to him were that I loved him. I wondered if he remembered. If he’d believed me before I attacked.
I blinked. Rolled my shoulders once, got myself together. No ball gag—not something I used much in my repertoire—but the rope was thick and serviceable. His head lolled like a ragdoll’s as I pressed rope to his lips and pushed his mouth open, tied it behind his head. Duct tape was in the kitchen—it would have to do.
I stood in a hurry, swung around, unable to stare at him. Bound. Gagged. Nate. My Nate, awake, and he’d—
Get your fucking head together and cope, you dumb bitch. Cope. I could do that.
I could.
I hauled open the door, stomped downstairs. Remembered the phone. Fished it out of my pocket as I went through the dark living room, auto-dialling Nicolette.
“’ello?” she said sleepily after three rings.
Sleeping at night like a goddamn human. She sucked. “He’s awake.”
“What?” More alert now, likely sitting up abruptly. A voice said something in the background—Peri.
“He’s awake.” I yanked open the cupboard door over the sink, shoved first aid supplies and soup cans out of the way, and my fingers latched onto the thick roll of duct tape.
“How...how is he?”
I froze and my arm dropped to my side, hard and thick roll of tape hitting my thigh. I stared at the open cupboard, at nothing, at the dark and the faint shadow of my head there, light coming from my open bedroom doorway in the distance.
I stood in my kitchen about to put duct tape over my boyfriend’s mouth because Nate was awake and crazy and trying to kill me.
Fuck. I was not going to cry. Not.
“He’s not okay,” I said steadily, surprised at myself. Go me for sounding like an unemotional bitch.
“He’ll be fine,” she said. “It’s normal. You’ve dealt with crazy before.”
But this isn’t normal. Sure, no two vampires were alike when changed, and yeah, I’d seen a few levels of crazy, but this...everything in me screamed that something was very, very wrong with him. “I need...” Help. Help and I hated asking for it—hating not having control over this severely fucked up situation.
“We’ll be right there,” she said immediately, the rustle of fabric shifting in the background. That was the thing about Nic—she might be a bleeding heart, pacifist hippy who annoyed the shit out of me with her do-gooder-ness, but when I needed her, she didn’t question it.
“Maybe get Ry and Ellie,” I said. “Maybe Peter can...” Shit, I didn’t even want to tell Peter. He didn’t know what had happened—I’d never told him. I thought he assumed Nate was dead and never wanted to ask, never wanted to face the idea of me killing his friend.
This might shock him more.
“I’m not sure if...”
Right, if Ryann would let Ellie contact anyone—or if Ellie would even want to. He was pretty fucked up after that last possession and hadn’t worked in the seven months since. “Don’t tell them I want to talk to Peter. We’ll figure it out then.” I’d been tacking “we” onto a lot of things lately and felt like an idiot for it, but I’d done a hell of a lot for all of these people and I was cashing in all my goddamn favours right then.
He deserved no less.
“I’ll call them,” she said. “We’ll be there in thirty.” A voice murmured in the background, and Nic sighed. “Twenty.”
Peri must be driving then. “Try not to get killed.” I hung up, stowed the phone away. Realized I was still staring at the open cupboard door and squeezed the duct tape again, so hard I thought I’d crush it.
A vampire, quarter-demon, Demon Hunter-slash-nun, and psychic who could probably contact a demonologist for me. It wasn’t a plan, but it was a start.
Avengers assemble.
****
I sat on the steps that led to my loft, elbows on my knees and chin on my hands, waiting there when the elevator rumbled.
I’d changed into skinny indigo jeans and a black T-shirt—an actual T-shirt made of cotton and everything, with three quarter sleeves and a V-neck. I almost never wore such a thing but it could get messy and it was something I could trash later. My hair was bound back in a long loose braid that hung over my shoulder. I hadn’t moved a muscle in twenty minutes but I looked up as the elevator door squealed open.
Four people poured into my apartment and the place hadn’t been this full in months. I stood and stepped gingerly down the last few stairs. Light spilled from the open elevator door and I realized, belatedly, that I hadn’t turned on any lamps. Just my bedroom one burned behind me.
He was awake. Oh god.
I reached the bottom of the steps and it was Nic who headed right for me, round blue eyes wide with concern. Her hair was just long enough to collect part of it back, and it was pulled from
her face. She had a glowy thing going on now—since I’d only ever known her depressed, I hadn’t realized she was depressed until Peri came in the picture and she had someone to...bond with? Love? Or something? Fuck if I knew what attracted them and how Peri could make anyone happy was beyond me. Every time I saw the woman I wanted to pistol-whip her.
Of course, how I could make anyone happy was beyond me as well, and yet Nate had loved me. And I turned him. Shit, six years of worry and regret was piling up and I couldn’t even see straight. This was why I didn’t date men whose names I’d remember afterward.
Nic was dressed casual in light blue cropped pants and a white cotton T-shirt, always so bright compared to the rest of us. Her arms shifted, tensed, like she might hug me.
Ugh. I raised both hands and took one step back. “If you try, you’ll lose your arms.”
A half-hearted smile and roll of her eyes, then she crossed her arms at her chest. “Where is he?”
Wow, for a blessed moment there I actually wasn’t thinking about it. “Upstairs.”
Peri’s heavy steps thumped next as she walked to Nic’s side, her girlfriend’s total opposite. Black army boots, black cargo pants, and a black cami. That there had to be the attraction: dark and light, black and white. Balance. Peri kept her hair short and wild, and dark eyes dragged over me. Nic might be glowy, but Peri never softened. At all. Nic said she had nightmares, violent ones. I didn’t doubt it at all. Of course, I had nightmares too and you didn’t see me stomping around and being emo about it, but to each her own.
Behind them were Ryann and Ellie, also strangely opposite but still fitting, somehow. They both looked older, more tired, than they had a year ago, which was sad since both kids were in their twenties. Ellie went straight for the kitchen in search of a drink. Whether he knew or not what I’d ask him to do, I didn’t know, but being anywhere near me and Peri usually caused him some distress while sober.
God. It was like some weird, triple date. Except my companion was batshit crazy and not in the let’s sing songs by Air Supply during karaoke kind of way.
I sighed, shook my head, and focused again on Ellie. “Check the fridge. There’s even ice.”
“Sweet!” His voice was strained though. Older. His mind was okay now, I thought, but by the glare Ryann was giving me, I knew his recovery likely didn’t matter; in her opinion, he shouldn’t be risked regardless. Ice clinked in a glass and a bottle settled on the counter.
“You woke me up,” Peri said, voice dry and humourless. “Got bourbon?”
I nodded. “Fuck you very much too, and sure, go help yourself.” And stop staring at me. God, it was creeping me out because she had one of those steady stares of a killer. I generally lacked empathy, sure, but I’d been human once. Peri, I was pretty sure, never had.
She trudged off with steps far too loud for the shortest one among us, and gave Ellie some berth when she reached the kitchen. Just being in our presence was bad enough but if he actually touched me or Peri sober, it might damn well kill him unless he was really drunk. She flipped on the light over my unused stove and hunted down the bourbon.
A paper bag crinkled in Ryann’s hands as she approached and held a package out for me. “I picked it up at Nic’s request.”
Well, wasn’t she Miss Conversation tonight. What “it” was, I didn’t know, so I took the bag and opened it. Several long slim bags of thick red liquid waited inside. Blood. “I have some—”
“You do, but it’s on ice,” Nic said. “This is fresh. It might be easier to take warmer.”
Right. I should just throw up my hands and let her at it because she was a lot better than me. More maternal, more patient. But no, I turned him. I...broke him. My responsibility.
Nerves were rattling in me, starting down deep, and if I didn’t get it the fuck together, I’d start shaking. I slipped out one of the blood pouches and handed it to Nic. “Heat it up and grab a straw from the drawer. Check the temp—not too hot.”
She nodded and grinned. “Not my first time.”
Of course.
Just me and Ryann now, damn nun staring at me like she expected me to ask her to rob a bank. Or not go to church or something equally horrible. Tension thickened and simmered in the air between us. I clutched the bag tightly in my hands, squeezing, blood giving gently beneath my fingers, and tipped my chin over my shoulder. “C’mon.”
She followed without a word as I climbed the stairs. Light bounced on the wall from the cross at her throat, sharp like knives. I’d left my bedroom door open just a crack and I eased it the rest of the way.
He was on the bed—or what I’d managed to put back together. The headboard was trashed. Frame had a few screws loose and I couldn’t remember where I put my tool box, so I’d wheeled it off to the side and just put the thick mattress and box-spring on the floor. Remade the bed with fresh linens, taking my time to press every corner just so. And then I’d picked up his body, and rested him on his side so hopefully the knot of his hands bound behind his back wouldn’t be too bad. His head had sunk down on a pillow and eyes were closed, long dark lashes brushing his cheeks.
So peaceful.
“You had to gag him?” Ryann said softly.
His eyes shot open and dread sank in my gut.
Ryann took a step back; my hand jutted out and snatched her arm, holding her in place.
“Yeah,” I said. “Warlock. Magic requires words. He can’t do anything to kill us tied up, sure, but he could very well freeze time or teleport himself somewhere and that would mean we’d lose him and he’d be tied up, stuck somewhere.”
“That’s an exaggeration, right?”
“Remember how little they taught you back at your hunting church?”
She nodded in my peripheral vision.
“Times that by a thousand. Those are just the things I’ve seen him do and he was out of practice.”
“Wow.”
Yeah. That’s my guy. My impressive, crazy guy. I sure know how to pick ’em.
I set the paper bag on the dresser, pulled out one of the sloshing bags of blood just in case he turned out to want the room temperature variety. Nic didn’t feed from humans—well, probably Peri, and it was likely a sexy thing I so didn’t want to know about because I felt like I’d raised Nic and I hated Peri—so she and other vampires had a supplier in town with the local Vampire Blood Association. Blood obtained from willing human sources, screened for drug use as feeding from a heroin addict could give us a rather unpleasant addiction—that sort of thing. And handy when you had to feed a starved, frenzied new vampire who would take the head off a live victim.
I approached the bed, blood in hand, and he watched every step I took. The crackling in the air rose sharply, his eyes swimming with magic. Muscles twitched under his bindings and I suddenly hoped he didn’t have any particular spells for breaking out of manacles.
Guess we’ll find out.
“Something goes bad,” I spoke to Ryann as I kept walking, “he does something to me, you do not stake him. You find a way to fix him. Got it?”
She said nothing.
I glanced back at the kid, her big eyes staring past me at him. “Seriously. If it was me there, I’d say do it. Not him, though. He’s a good guy. It would net you seriously bad karma with your god.”
Ryann sighed, shook her head, blondish curls bouncing. “Wrong religion. My God has nothing to do with karma.”
“Whatever, dumbass. It’ll send you to hell immediately. Do not pass GO, do not collect two hundred dollars—just hell where your tender Christian flesh will burn and be molested by Satan. Don’t hurt him.”
Her lips parted to likely bark a comment at me. Closed. She took a deep breath. “Okay.”
Well, that was something. “You know I’m going to ask him to contact Peter.”
She nodded. Chin lifted defiantly.
“And he’s going to do it.”
“It’s his choice—”
“Yes, and he will agree, because he’s that kind
of guy. Peter won’t hurt him.”
“Peter won’t, but you have no idea what opening up to these...these things does to him. Is doing to him. How hard it is to turn things off—”
Whine whine whine. “You’re right. I don’t know. And I don’t care, so save the speech for someone with a dose of empathy in their genes. Nate needs Peter which means I need Peter.”
“I know you...” She trailed off, stared down at Nate sadly, sympathy all over her expression. “I know you wanted me to see him, to see how much help he needs, so that I’ll—”
“Bringing you in here has nothing to do with gaining your sympathy. I don’t care if you sympathize. I’m not even going to bring out the ‘I helped Christian and saved your life and faith’ card.” I took one step toward her, my shadow cutting across her innocent face, and let my voice turn to ice, all sharp and frozen, piercing. “I brought you up here so you could see, firsthand, that I will do anything to fix him. Anything at all. I will chain you up and toss you in the garage and keep Ellie here until he does what I tell him to, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. So be on my team or be against it. But I do not want your motherfucking sympathy because it’s not doing me any good.”
Steps clattered on the stairs outside my room and Nic stepped through the doorway; I spun back to the bed, braid beating my spine, and crept the rest of the way to him. Nate looked up at me, just haunting insanity in his eyes. His gaze locked on the blood in my hands and whatever remained of his mind, I knew he recognized it—knew he wanted to feed.
“This is warmed,” Nic said softly and I heard her approach. She set the pouch down on the nightstand and a juice box straw with a pointed end beside it.
I sat on the edge of the bed, mattress firm and not dipping under me. God, he remained so beautiful. Thinner. Darker circles under his eyes. Hair needing a wash. Crazy gaze probably eyeing the best way to kill me. Still beautiful, achingly so. Probably prettier than me and it was a wonder my ego would take loving someone better looking than I was.
Exhumed Page 3
