Drooping in disappointment, Red stared down at her coffee. “The sire bond.”
“It’s like a psychic cord.” He mimed a pulled string. “Sometimes it feels like a piano wire stretched too tight on one note. You can feel their emotions and will, but not read their minds. Sense their proximity even if you ignore their call. It’s like a gnat in the ear.”
Intrigued, Red set down the mug. She leaned closer. “You feel Lucas now?”
“I try not to. I’ve had secondhand guilt for a century,” Kristoff said dryly, shaking his head. Disdain lingered in his gaze as he jerked his head to the southwest. “He’s over there. Brooding. It’s better in Portland. It’s more intense when he’s close by.”
“You feel it all the time…” Red bit her lip, flushing as she thought of her night with Lucas.
“Yeah, I noticed when he was particularly happy a few days ago.” Lazy gaze snapping to her, he raised an eyebrow.
“That’s awkward.” Neck hot, Red met his gaze sheepishly. Her phone vibrated. Relieved for a distraction, she swiped to the message to see an apology from Sheila Jones, her agent at Smith and Reaper.
Exclamation points highlighted the desperation in the text. The package had been delayed again. It had been stuck in customs for weeks. Her inheritance came with a jaw dropping amount of cash and a few physical items, tantalizingly undescribed in the account inventory except for one line about a necklace. She kept thinking over and over what she might find. Her throat tightened. She didn’t realize how much she had been hoping to get the delivery. After getting kicked around for the last week, she needed a win.
“Is it Vic?”
Wiping at her cheek, she shook her head and put her phone away. “No. Nothing serious. It’s silly compared to all of this. I just had been looking forward to something being delivered.”
Kristoff inched closer to her on the couch and twisted to face her. His ankle crossed over his knee. Eyes fixed on her tears, he frowned. “I’m assuming it’s not from Amazon.”
Shrugging, she tried to play it off. The fake smile dimmed on her face. She hated talking about her family because what could she say? Her heritage was as much of a mystery as the rest of her life.
Kristoff didn’t pry as she fell quiet. He merely waited for her, holding space, his expression open.
Maybe it was the silence that made the words flow. “I keep thinking it’s from my family, but I don’t know. It could be the answer to everything I’ve been searching for… or some antiques. Mystery box, ya know?”
“Maybe a stay with family might do you some good. Get you out of LA.”
Cocking her head, she blinked. It took a beat for his sentence to even make sense to her. Had she kept the card about her family that close to her chest with him? Then again, when they first met, she hadn’t imagined she’d be crashing on his couch. “I can’t.”
He smirked, brushing his fingers through his dark blond hair. “I get it. You’re a tough hunter who doesn’t need anyone.”
“No, I mean I don’t know where they are. Who they are.” Lifting her hands in confusion, Red shook her head. Where did she even begin? “I have a big nothing in my memories about them. I keep thinking I’ll reach inside this box and suddenly remember.”
“You have amnesia.” Shifting into a cross-legged pose to match hers, he scrutinized her, forehead furrowed. He gaped like a fish, poised to speak, then stopping as if the words kept leaping away from his tongue.
The pause dragged out as they stared at each other from opposite ends of the couch.
His mouth twitched. Leaning over, Kristoff covered his lips. Laughter slipped out. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at your condition, but seriously? You’re the reincarnation of my long dead witch lover, and you have amnesia? This is too much.”
Giggling, Red put her face in her hand. She flushed even as belly laughs shook her. Smiling, she leaned her head on the couch back with a sigh. “I know. It’s fucking ridiculous.”
Gesturing to himself, he gawked at her. “How is it that I’m just learning about this plot twist?”
Red shrugged, hoping the pink had faded from her cheeks. Fighting together had made her see him in a different light. Trusting him hadn’t come easy. The realization felt odd. “I try to stay mysterious. We weren’t always on the same team.”
“You can’t claim amnesia, then stop the story.” He twirled his fingers for her to go on.
“Traveling with Vic, I spent the last year trying to figure out who I am. Then I come to LA and I get my first real clue. I tried to hustle Smith and Reaper for a credit card and they discovered I already had an account—a trust. This is my first actual connection to my past beyond the boots Vic found me in.”
“You had the black lyre tattoo when he found you?” Kristoff touched her left shoulder shyly.
“Yes, and we’ve already tried researching it. Didn’t come up with anything.” Red faked a cool that she didn’t definitely did feel. Her heart tightened in her chest at his touch. “Judging by the scars, well, I can piece together what happened to me. Just not who I was.”
“Does Lucas know?”
Red nodded. She had told him by the Hollywood Sign after a failed attempt to consult an oracle about her origins. She had been avoiding the amnesia topic for weeks until Lucas got the truth out of her. “Eventually, people pick up that you’re missing years of personal and cultural milestones.”
“I can see why you don’t do small talk.”
“My mother was a witch, and hers was too.” Red said. In the early days, she had chased every clue like it had been stolen from her. The disappointment had crushed her until she’d just stopped looking. It was only words from beyond the grave that made her try again. She didn’t know why she felt the need to confess this to Kristoff. “I learned it in Oklahoma City. Kurt and Sancha had cleaned out a coven there. The ghost of their patriarch told me. A line of witches. Me.”
“Of course, you’re made of magic.” Kristoff grinned, nudging her knee with a playful shove.
Blushing, Red hid her face by looking away. “He told me my mom didn’t want to be a witch. I like to think she decided to do something very human-centric instead, like be a doctor or a teacher. Maybe my dad wasn’t a mage and they ran off to be together.”
“You want it to be romantic.” He needled her gently, but his smile was genuine.
“I want it to be ordinary.” Red laughed, shaking her head. “I want Sunday mornings where Dad makes pancakes while Mom sings along to the radio. Maybe she was the one who got me hooked on Tom Petty. I don’t know.” She looked down, smile fading. “It’s not like that box is going to tell me.”
“No, but I hope it does tell you something.” Kristoff tipped her face up. His brushed his thumb along her jaw before pulling away as if unsure.
His touch lingered on her skin. Red took a deep breath, wetting her lips. She faced demons every day. She sat with one now. A different fear hovered over her. Staring into Kristoff’s chiseled face, she had opened the door to her deepest secrets.
Red had invited an unsouled vampire in.
Chapter Twenty-One
January 27th, After Sunset, Club Vltava, Sunset Strip, Los Angeles, California
Balancing three thermoses tucked under one arm, Red flipped a disguised switch in the fuse box with the other. Triggered, a shelf covered in plastic gallon jugs swung open on the back wall to reveal an entrance to a gray cement room. Snoring echoed out.
She walked inside the hidden room. Three large cells dominated one side. Iron shackles hung on the other. Bare bulbs hung from a ceiling covered in black foam panels for soundproofing. The last occupants, former minions of Michel, had already been evicted the hard way.
Kristoff owned the whole building which included offices in the middle, gallery on the ground floor, and Club Vltava on the top. The investor brochure in his office didn’t include the cells off the underground parking garage. Was it too last season to match the modern luxury of the floors above? The porcelain s
ink, iron bars, and large drain in the concrete floor looked like the height of fashion for a black ops site.
In the far cell, Sal slept on a bench, arms over his chest, face still healing.
Shoulders hunched, Quinn stared at Selene from the middle cell.
Prone on the ground in a black satin shift dress, arms over her head like a swimmer, the raven haired vampiress bit her lip. She rolled over on all fours, her big eyes mischievous as she matched Quinn’s gaze. “Look at who wandered into the zoo.” Rising to her knees, Selene flashed her left fang at Red. “Come to feed us, dearie?”
Avoiding direct eye contact, Red gave the first cage a wide berth as she went to the center cell.
“Ignore her.” Shaking his head, Quinn strode to the edge of his prison to meet Red.
Sheepishly looking around at Sal and Selene behind bars, Red set down two thermoses on the floor. She hadn’t thought that one through. “I think I’ll let someone else give that to the others.”
“Good idea.”
“How are you holding up?” Red held a steel thermos of blood between the bars for him. He had locked himself up. It probably didn’t make it easier.
“I’ve been in worse cages.”
“I don’t like seeing you like this.”
“If they manage to steal my soul with some invention, you’ll be glad I’m in here and not free on the streets.” Shoulder drooping, Quinn took the thermos and set it down on a metal bench in his enclosure.
“The crescent wanes…” Selene tilted her head, mouth pursing as her eyes grew larger. Fleeting micro-expressions twitched at her brow and lips as if she were reacting to rapid events. Her limbs stiffened as she lay on the floor.
“What’s happening?”
“She’s seeing,” Quinn said softly. “This could last a minute or days. It was like this even when she was alive.”
“I read the Brotherhood’s file. Given to druids, her family thought she was a changeling.” Red could see their point, feeling unsettled by the wide gaze staring beyond them into the cosmos. Selene’s powers hadn’t died with her. Red knew from the Dreamland how far the seer could spy. “The Brotherhood thought she could be a hero. She was in training.”
A haunted timbre came into his voice. “She had run away to try to live a normal life. Stop being a seer.”
“Then you made her insane.” Red knew the rest of the story of how Quinn had earned the ire of the Brotherhood forever. Many dark beings tried to kill Heroes. Few had made an elaborate production of mentally tormenting them.
“She already walked in moonlight and whispered to the trees. The thrill of having to stay one step ahead of her sight fueled the obsession. What she had left of sanity, I took.” Quinn shook his head. “I wanted to preserve my woodland muse.”
“But first, you destroyed her life.” Brow lifting, Red studied the slender vampire in the throes of her vision.
“No, I made her love me,” Quinn said. “Then I killed her bard and anyone that loved her besides me. In 280 years, I’ve done a lot of evil. The very worst was to her.”
Chilled, Red rubbed her arms to ease her goosebumps at his dark tale. She was already convinced that him without a soul equaled bad times. “When we were fleeing Slab City, what did you mean by not losing your soul again? Does Vic know?”
Quinn nodded. “It was before Vic. When Alaric rose in rebellion against the Blood Alliance ten years ago, he tried to get his generals back. I was one of them.” Eyes narrowing and voice fervent, he reached through bars to touch her shoulder. “If they steal my soul, put me down. My family won’t be able to do it. Neither will Vic.”
Shaking her head, Red backed away. His words stabbed her heart. He couldn’t have been serious. She put up her palms. “Don’t talk like that.”
“Promise me.”
“You won’t become that monster again,” she insisted, waving the idea away. Acid washed up her throat. Killing him was out of the question.
“I’m always the monster, Red.”
“You try to be a man. That means something.” She put her hand on her thumping chest. Tears built up behind her eyes. “At least to me.”
Knotted brow relaxing, Quinn nodded. A phantom smile lightened his face. “You’ll do the right thing. Whatever happens, make sure Lucas doesn’t do anything rash.”
Now that was a sore topic. Red shifted on her feet. “I haven’t been able to do much about that lately.”
“Selene threw him, but that doesn’t change how he feels about you.”
She glared at him. They’d had hearts to hearts about her love life before, maybe more than even Vic or Lucas might have guessed, but she wasn’t in the mood. Especially when it was packaged with an assisted suicide request. “He’s showing it in some weird ways.”
“He’s trying to save you from Selene and her from the world.” Quinn gestured to his progeny in the other cage. “Be gentle with the lad. He’s fallen for you, Red, and it scares him.”
A hum of a familiar electric motor echoed in the room. It was enough to dislodge the settling gloom. Grin popping up on her face, Red spun around. “Vic!”
Concern creasing his forehead, Vic nodded a manly nod of significance at Quinn as he wheeled toward them. His lip puckered in distaste at the sight of Selene. He frowned, tilting his head up to check out Sal sleeping in the far cell. Bundled in his brown bomber jacket, he glanced around, gesturing to the wall opposite the cells. “I like the giant candlesticks next to the manacles. Really ties the torture room together.”
Striding over, Red wrapped him in a hug. She punched his shoulder lightly. “You’re already back and you didn’t tell me?”
“Surprise! It was to me too.” Vic chuckled through his teeth before he flopped his hands up in resignation. “You know Lashawn. Had to get back to the office. He’s not like me. He’s business in the front and the back.” Brushing his hand through his mullet, he grinned at his own joke. It faded as he looked to Quinn. “Red, could you give me a moment with the old man?”
Red patted Vic on the shoulder before leaving the men to their bromance. She left the secret door in the supply closet open before stepping out into the underground parking garage.
Head bowed, Lucas strode up to her, hands in his pockets. “Red.”
“You’re up early.” Red tried to play it cool, but she still didn’t know what to even think about him. Mostly she was worried. He had been impulsive trying to keep his family safe before. Now, with the Dague closing in like a charging horse without a rider… He had gone off-grid to hunt Selene. It had infuriated her—still did—but she had collected a few secrets of her own in the last few days too. She let her arms fall to her sides and turned to fully face him. They couldn’t keep butting heads.
“I do wake up before sunset… sometimes.” Lucas quirked his lip up in a ghost of his usual impish grin. “I’m sorry, love. Family can make you crazy. I mucked it up. Everything.”
“I’m sorry about Selene. I don’t know what it must feel like,” Red admitted, trying to put herself in his place. The vampire had a hidden desire to comfort and care that made him cook her popcorn and cuddle her during movies. It was how he loved. His family meant so much to him, it was natural he would want to protect his sire. She might not have liked how he had run off, but she knew his heart was in the right place.
Shaking his head, Lucas furrowed his brow. His gaze unfocused, lips tightening. “I can’t lose Quinn too. I hated that bastard for the first twenty years of unlife. Now, he’s my best mate. If it wasn’t for him picking me up in the ’30s and the ’50s…” Shrugging, he sighed, eyes rolling in black self-deprecation. “Oi, it was rough in the ’80s too. Good music, bad times.”
Touching his arm, she leaned closer. She forced optimism into her tone. “Worst case scenario, we’ll get a soulmancer. Father Matthew will wake up eventually. Even if that fails, I bet that there’s a coven or alchemist who saved a rogue soul spell before the Blood Alliance destroyed them all. I could do it.”
“No.”
Gray eyes darkening, Lucas took her hands. His perpetually mussed black hair flopped as he shook his head. “Soul magic is a rough trick. We won’t get to that point.”
“You’re right. We won’t.” Squeezing his hands, Red shot him a small smile. It wavered, but it was genuine.
“These are monsters under my bed that I never wanted you to see.” Lucas rubbed her wrist before lifting it to his mouth. He kissed her pulse sweetly. His gaze softened on her. “I lost the plot out there.”
His kiss sent a small current down her arm. She leaned closer. “I already accepted your past, Lucas. You don’t have to leave half-cocked when history says hello and goes on a rampage.”
He kissed her wrist again, grinning against her skin. “This is what I can’t understand. You always seem to see something in me.”
“There’s so much in you.” She put her hand on his cheek before smoothing back his errant locks. Her smile softened.
“Mostly shit.” Chuckling, Lucas leaned into her hand. “It makes me sound like a knob, but I want to redeem her. She made me. If I could help make her better, maybe I would be better. Worthy.”
The heart of a Victorian poet lay underneath the punk leather. Plucked from mortality at his peak, his high cheek bones, mischievous lips, and stormy eyes would always make him stand out in a crowd. Tonight, weariness peeped through the perfection of his immortality.
Cradling his face, she studied his brooding expression. “You are worthy. What do you mean?”
“I put on a cape eventually, but it was a long time before I got my shit together. I’ve made a dog’s dinner out of this unlife of mine,” Lucas confessed.
Biting back a dry chuckle, she shook her head as she caressed his jaw. “You have a soul. It doesn’t mean you have it figured out better than anyone else.”
He pulled her hands to his lips. His eyes were sad as he stepped away. “It’s not a failure to launch situation, ducks. The demon doesn’t go away because you have a soul. It’s just chained. I have to be better to touch something as good as you.”
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