Blood Moons (36 page)

326

Blood Moons

by Alianne Donnelly

She found what she was looking for. Grabbed the knowledge and passed it on to Nell. To Brendon Z, she said,

"I don't play well with others."

"That was a mistake, bitch,"
he said, his voice shaky.
"Just
for that, I'll pay extra attention to my new guest. And I'll be
sure to tell her she has you to th—"

Dara shut him out. She stumbled out the door, dizzy and disoriented, falling to her hands and knees, but she got right back up and hobbled in MacMurphy's direction. They didn't have much time. Brendon Z was probably already on his way out the door. If they had any chance of catching him, it was now.

MacMurphy met her halfway, looking as if he didn't know whether to hug her or strangle her. "Already sent a squad.

You know, ever since you showed up, I've had this wonderful dream. It involves you leaving."

The light in the hallway blinded her. Her head was splitting open and images of Brendon Z clawing at his own face kept flashing across her eyes every time she blinked. It was just like that first time again, and Dara had a flashback to gasping for breath in her dark apartment, clutching the phone to her ear while she squeezed her eyes shut to block out the blood all over her walls. Knowing so much more about the killer now, she could still hear the voices he heard.

All of it was so overwhelming, the only thing she could think was,
They're going to get there too late again...

MacMurphy caught her when her knees gave out. "Jesus, lady, how the hell did you manage to survive this long?" He picked her up and Dara had to clench her teeth to keep from 327

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throwing up. The door opening and slamming shut again nearly ruptured her eardrums, but then it was finally, blessedly dark.

"Put me down."

"Will you relax? I told you we've got a team on it."

"That's what I thought last time."

She tilted away from him until he was forced to set her down. Dara sank to the floor, pushed away MacMurphy's helping hands. There was no time to waste. "Get in touch with your team. I say move, they move. No questions."

MacMurphy swore and moved away a little to do whatever psychic mojo he did to contact his people. His voice faded away as Dara retreated into her mind. Hours of practicing came down to this. One chance.

She lowered her shields by degrees, seamlessly dissolving one after the other. The indestructible wall became thinner and softer until it was little more than a gossamer veil over everything. Dara let it dissolve into mist that gently wafted away, leaving her with an unobstructed path to the killer. He hadn't noticed anything yet.

Dara pictured his mind as a screen with thousands of images. She selected away those that made no sense, internal musings of a psychopath. She screened out thoughts of revenge and violent scenes of what he planned to do to his victims.

Brendon Z was looking at something. Dara zeroed in on what he saw, stretching the image until she could see every detail.

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Out of nowhere, Tristan's shields slammed down all around her so hard she nearly passed out. "
No!
" she screamed. He'd trapped her in her mind and cut off her connection to the killer.
Nononononono, not again!

"Dara, what is it?" MacMurphy was there again, his hands on her, lifting her up. Her head was spinning so badly she couldn't tell up from down. "Talk to me!"

"He's in a transport, headed south on Leese Street." She described the type and color, and the buildings she'd seen him passing.

MacMurphy relayed the information to his agents. "Can you track him?" he asked her.

Dara shook her head. "I l-lost him." She didn't have it in her to try to get through those shields. Tristan had effectively shut her down—and taken away any chance they'd had to catch this guy.

"What? How did you lose him?"

"It's complicated."
Very complicated
. Tristan was close enough to mess with her mind again, which meant he had to be on Earth. Just the thought of it made her heart race with anticipation and dread. How the hell did he get here? Had he even left anyone alive back on Niren Colony? She moaned. "I think I'm gonna throw up."

"Here, get up," MacMurphy said, helping her to her feet.

"Just breathe nice and deep, and imagine a pretty place far from here."

Dara glared at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said, her jaw clenched. "Did they find him?"

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He sighed. That meant bad news. "No, he got away somehow. But they did find the woman who belongs to the severed finger. She was close by. A rookie picked up on her panic and led the cops to some back alley hostel. They're questioning everyone."

Dara inhaled and held her breath for a few seconds, fighting back the bitter sense of defeat. They'd saved one.

And that
one
shouldn't even have been involved to begin with. Dara had no idea how strong Tristan's shields were and she was in no condition to fight them. Wouldn't be for a long time, if the way she was feeling now was anything to go by.

When he lifted them—
if
he lifted them—would her link to Brendon Z still be there?

"I want to go home." She wanted to fall apart and cry.

Preferably in a dark corner somewhere, without witnesses.

"I'll take you to your room."

"No,
my
home."

"Dara, I'm not letting you go anywhere alone, you understand?"

If there was something in this whole damn mess of a situation that she was 100 percent certain of... "Trust me, I won't be alone tonight."

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330

Blood Moons

by Alianne Donnelly

28th day of the 4th Blood Moon, 3028, just after
midnight

Dara didn't ask how he got into her building, or how he unlocked her front door. When Tristan appeared in the doorway of her bedroom, she needed him to tell her just one thing. "Why did you do it?" She wanted to yell the question at him, but her head hurt too much. She was reduced to whispers. And that one came out sounding broken.

Desperate.

She felt utterly betrayed and helpless. Her one chance to put an end to this, and he'd taken it away from her. A tyrant imposing his will on his subject. She should hate him. She should be scared of him. There was no way he'd been released from Niren Colony officially. How many bodies had he left in his wake this time? How many had stood in the way of him finding her?

Was Dara going to have even more blood on her hands now?

The thought sickened her, made her curl up tighter, until her muscles cramped.

But, looking at him, she somehow
knew
, without him having to tell her, that it wasn't like that. This time was different. He hadn't been hunting a villain, but his mate. She could feel the guilt rolling off him in tidal waves. Tristan would not cause her pain if he could do anything to prevent it.

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Knowing this as surely as she knew her own name, the emotions that most overwhelmed her at the sight of him now were relief and a tainted sort of peace. For a moment, one moment too long, Dara let herself be selfishly glad he was there. Even with everything else going on, Tristan dispelled the emptiness that had been draining her. She craved the feel of his arms around her, but didn't dare reach out for it.

Tristan crossed the threshold, pulled the blanket off her bed, and wrapped it around her. He gathered her into his arms and picked her up from the closet floor where she'd sat in a near-fetal position for so long her body felt stiff and cold.

He didn't tuck her in, but sat on the bed with her in his lap.

Dara hated how good it felt to be in his arms again. Hated that when he rubbed his chin and cheek against the top of her head, she wanted to cry again and let him shoulder all her aches and pains. She had no right to feel sorry for herself.

And he had no right to try to make her feel like it was okay to break down when he was the one who'd messed everything up in the first place!

Tristan smoothed her hair and rocked her as if she were a frightened child. It made no sense, but Dara's headache began to ease. Her eyelids drooped. Dara recognized the subtle compulsion, but was too weak to resist it. She wanted to sleep until none of it mattered anymore. She didn't want to hold anyone's life in her incompetent hands. No one should have to shoulder that kind of responsibility.

When she forced her eyes open, her walls were painted red with blood.
Death shall come to those unworthy of life
was scrawled across her mirror. Dara flinched and turned her face 332

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into Tristan's chest. The voices were back again. Dozens of them, hissing through her mind like death carried on the wind. Hands trapped inside the blanket, she couldn't even cover her ears to shut them out.

"Shhh," Tristan soothed, settling his big hand on the back of her head.

All of a sudden, she felt a warm breeze cut through the voices, silencing them. She smelled fresh-cut grass and a lake. Dara peeked out cautiously and didn't see her bedroom anymore. She was sitting with Tristan on a lounge just outside her bungalow, looking out at the lake and the forest beyond.

"You are everything that's ever been good in my life," he told her, his deep voice rumbling in his chest at her ear.

"You're all I have."

"Then, to save me, you sentenced a young girl to death."

The sky above her darkened with ominous thunderclouds. A threat of storm, a hint, but not the storm itself. Not over her.

It was a wordless communication to make it clear that, for her, Tristan would have sacrificed anything. Whether she wanted him to or not. Where her safety was concerned, he would be relentless, merciless. Dara greedily took what he gave, for once feeling as if nothing bad could touch her, because he wouldn't let it. Even while she hated him for what would happen to Katie now, it seemed Dara was still the coward she'd been all her life.

A girl will die. Because of me.

Tristan tightened his hold on her, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "No, baby. Not yet."

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His touch, his voice, made Dara feel precious, cherished.

Protected for the moment from the things she didn't want to face. But she couldn't forget them, and Tristan didn't try to make her. "He got spooked," she told him. "He'll move up his plans."

"No, he won't. He has something to prove now. He won't do anything until he's good and ready, just to show you that he can. He'll want to see the stars above him before he makes his move. That gives us an entire day to track him."

Tristan's voice was full of lethal promise when he said, "And I'm an expert hunter."

Tristan tucked Dara safely in bed. His little warrior heart.

He left her dreaming about her castle, filled it for her with an army ready to do battle, but took away the enemy at the gates. It felt so fucking good to be able to touch her, hold her again, that he didn't want to leave the bed. By the time he made it to the bathroom, everything from the last week caught up with him and his hands began to shake so much he could barely turn on the hot water for a shower.

Tristan wasn't sure exactly how he got here. He had vague recollections of waking up in the cage, sensing a terrifying void where Dara should have been. He'd managed to retain his senses long enough to find out that she wasn't dead, but back on Earth—
to hunt a killer without him.
He figured that must have been when he'd lost it, because after that, his memories were hazy.

He remembered Amelia showing up at some point with a bag and a gun. Then nothing but strange faces, staring back 334

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at him in frozen horror. Brief glimpses of stars all around him and a destination marked on the shuttle's flight plan.

He must have lost his mind a dozen times during the flight.

Alone in a shuttle big enough to transport an army, the cavernous chambers filled with echoes of nothing. In that total isolation, Tristan had had nothing except the beast raging inside him. He thought ... he thought he recalled mangled bunk beds, shredded mattresses, and warped metal scrap. His hands bloody, but healing. Tristan's rational mind hadn't stood a chance against that maelstrom. It had peeked out a few times, beheld the mindless destruction, and turned away.

He'd just barely stopped himself from destroying the shuttle's navigation systems. And even then, it was only because he'd begun to sense Dara again.

Having gone days without sleep, his body was now weak and starved, his mind exhausted from the constant internal battle. Tristan was almost sure he hadn't killed anyone but, given his landing, that wasn't a certainty, either.

As the hot water scalded him, he remembered the terrifying minutes when he'd entered Earth's atmosphere and felt Dara searching for the killer. Tristan could already feel how far beyond her limits she'd pushed herself. She'd have knocked herself into a coma if he hadn't stopped her. His claws dug into the shower wall and he anchored himself with them when his knees became weak. Once again, he tested the shields he'd placed around her. They held strong.

He rubbed a hand over his chest. It had been feeling tight and choking him ever since he'd awakened in that cage. He'd 335

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beat his fists against it often in that shuttle, just needing to take one full breath. It hadn't worked. When he'd found her huddled in the corner, in the dark, he'd thought his chest would burst.

Tristan turned off the water and hurriedly dried himself. He didn't like not having her in easy sight.

But when he came out of the bathroom, she was still there, sleeping soundly and the tightness finally began to ease by miniscule amounts. The fridge was almost empty, except for a few take-out boxes. Dara hadn't been staying here, but at that telepath central place, so she hadn't bothered to stock up on food. He ate what he could find, needing the sustenance, and tossed the empty boxes into the trash. They'd have to go out for breakfast.