Angel's Pain (10 page)

Reaper reached out and turned the volume down. “I may not be tuned in to Crisa. But I am tuned in to you.”

“Oh, this ought to be good.”

“You're worried about her.”

She rolled her eyes, shook her head, thought about turning the music up again. Then she said, “Who the hell knows what kind of a guy that was, anyway? The one she's riding with, I mean.”

Reaper tilted his head and studied her for a second. “I prefer to think he's the kind of guy who sees a girl in trouble and wants to help.”

“More likely the kind who sees a girl in trouble and thinks he can take advantage of the situation. Maybe get laid. And maybe he's not too particular about whether she wants it or not.”

“Most men aren't like that, Briar.”

“A lot you know.”

He frowned, so she turned away, gazing out the window at the passing night. “Where the hell are we, anyway?”

“Virginia. We'll be in Maryland soon, though.”

“Fucking Maryland. Where the hell is she
going?”

He ignored her question and asked, “Most of the men you've known have been…like that, haven't they, Briar?”

“Don't start analyzing me, Reaper. Don't even
think
I'll put up with that crap.”

“Okay.” He sighed, turning his attention back to the road. But he thought he knew something. He thought he'd glimpsed one of her inner demons, and it pissed her off to no end.

“She's going after that boy she keeps seeing in her head,” Briar said, to distract him as well as herself. “What the hell do you suppose that's all about, anyway?”

“Damned if I know.” He thought about it as he continued driving. “You think he could be real? Not just some kind of delusion or part of whatever's…wrong with her?”

She lifted her brows. “She seems to think so.”

“What if she's right?”

“That's not very likely, is it? She's freaking batshit, Reaper.”

“Yeah, but she's also a vampire. So let's just say he's real, for the sake of argument. If that's the case, he's almost certainly one of the Chosen. And probably
the
one, for Crisa.”

“
The
one?” Briar asked.

“We all feel compelled to protect mortals with the Belladonna antigen. Those rare few who can become what we are. You know that,” he told her. “But for each of us there is one with whom that connection is more powerful than with any other. You know
that
, as well.”

She nodded slowly.

“So what if this boy is that one for Crisa? What if he really is in some kind of trouble, and she really is needed?”

“What good could
she
possibly do?” Briar asked.

“She can barely take care of herself.”

“And yet if we stop her from going to him, we could be interfering in something we have no right to interfere with. We could be costing this kid his life.”

Briar blinked, not liking where this conversation was going.

“Maybe we shouldn't try to take her back once we catch up to her,” Reaper suggested. “Maybe we should go with her, instead. See if this kid is for real, back her up in case she needs us.”

She glanced at him. “You really think this could be some real person and not just a figment of her imagination?”

“I think there's a chance, yeah.”

She sat still, looking at her hands in her lap and not wanting him to be right. “If one of the Chosen really was in trouble, wouldn't we both be sensing it, as well?” she asked.

“We would, when we were close enough. But this kid is apparently several states away.”

She frowned suddenly, and smacked her palm hard against Reaper's shoulder. “Stop! Pull over! Something's happening.” Her eyes were dimming, her vision closing in from the sides as the brutal throbbing deep inside her head began all over again. Not her pain. Not hers at all, but Crisa's; she knew that now.

Reaper did as she asked, pulling onto the shoulder near an exit ramp. As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, Briar opened the door and got out, wandering, hands out in front of her, nearly blind now, because the little boy's face was in her mind. His thoughts wove clearly through her psyche, just as they did through Crisa's.

I think this guy might decide to kill me. It's a shame, too, 'cause he seems nice. But he'll do whatever it takes.

And then she felt panic, and she knew that it, too, belonged to Crisa. The boy was calm. Thinking about his own murder as coolly as if he were thinking about the chance it might rain.

Briar was moving, walking, feeling for Crisa.

In the distance, she could hear Reaper calling her name, his voice urgent. And then she could feel him gripping her shoulders, holding her as she tried to pull free.

“Briar!” Has hand came across her face, the sting just sharp enough to pull her back into herself. The voices faded, and the feeling of panic along with them, but she still felt Crisa's pain.

Blinking her eyes clear, she lifted her head to see that Reaper was standing in front of her, hands on her shoulders, eyes staring into hers. On the highway just beyond him, traffic blew past. Vehicles in every one of the three lanes, speeding along at eighty miles per hour and raising a breeze that whipped her hair.

“Are you all right?” Reaper asked, and from his tone she gathered that he'd repeated the question more than once already.

Staring at him through wide eyes, she shook her head. “No. Wh-what…?”

“You jumped out of the car and started wandering. I thought you were going to walk right out into traffic. What the hell happened?”

She looked at where the Land Rover was parked near the exit ramp, then saw that she was standing in the small triangle of grass between the exit lane curving off to the right and where the main highway stretched ever forward.

“This is where they turned off,” she said, pressing a hand to the top of her head, as if she could soothe the throbbing pain that way, then moved toward the sign until she could read it. Baltimore. Then she turned back again, and bent down, hands to the grass. “She got out for a minute. She thought the ride was over, but then she got back in and went with him again.”

“So she's going to Baltimore, then? That must be where the boy is,” Reaper mused. “But if so, I wonder why we aren't sensing him yet?”

“No.” Briar shook her head. “No, that's not where she's going. North, she keeps thinking. Farther north.” She looked at the sky. “How long before sunrise?”

Reaper looked at his watch. “About an hour.”

Briar nodded firmly. The motion hurt, and she stopped, wincing, and rubbed her aching temples.

“She's more capable than I gave her credit for, then. She stayed with him so she could find a place to rest for the day. She'd intended to let him go on his way—to Baltimore. Yes. And she was going to try to find another ride to take her farther. Closer to…Byram.”

“Byram?” Reaper asked.

Briar shrugged and massaged the back of her neck in an effort to relieve the pulsing pain in her head. “Must be the boy's name. Anyway, she realized it was too close to dawn, so she decided to ride into the nearest city with the redneck and find a place to rest.”

“And you know all that…how?” Reaper asked.

She shifted her gaze to meet and hold his. “My blood is in her veins. Part of me is traveling with her. Part of me has
become
her. I feel everything she feels right now.”

“Including her pain.”

“
Especially
her pain.”

Reaper slid his hand to the back of her neck, alternately squeezing and then relaxing his grip, and she would have shaken him off, except that it felt so good. She was in pain. She would take any relief she could get.

“We should find a place to rest ourselves,” he said.

“Might as well take the same exit, stay as close to her as we can.”

He opened the passenger door and held it as Briar climbed back in. In a minute they were moving again, taking the same exit Crisa had.

He drove until he saw series of chain hotels, then pulled into the parking lot of the first one they came to.

“She's not here,” Briar said.

“No, but we are.”

“We still have time,” she argued. “We could follow my sense of her a little farther and—”

“She's going to head right back to the highway in the morning, Briar. You said yourself, she wants to keep going north.”

Sighing, she lowered her head in defeat.

“Let's get settled in. We'll use the extra time to check in with the others, see if any of those leads on Gregor have panned out, and get the room secured against sunlight. Okay?”

She wasn't having an easy time being patient. But then again, when had she? “Okay. And then…maybe you can tell me the rest of that story you started earlier.”

“What story would that be, Briar?”

“The one about the woman you say you loved and killed. Rebecca, wasn't it?”

He averted his eyes, getting out of the car. She got out, too, and they walked toward the entrance. Every click of her shoes on the sidewalk was like a tiny nail spiking into her brain.

“I don't talk about that,” he said.

“Oh, come on. You know you want to. I'll tell you about one of my kills, if you want.”

He slanted her a sideways look. “I really don't want to hear about you murdering the innocent, Briar.”

“Oh, hell, none of them are innocent.” She sighed and shrugged, and as they entered the hotel lobby, she went on, speaking mentally now instead of aloud.
Fine, we won't exchange kill stories, then. I'll give you something else in exchange for you telling me about Rebecca.

What?

Sex.

He swung his head toward her so fast the motion drew notice from the desk clerks and a couple relaxing in one of the overstuffed chairs in the lobby seating area. It had been almost unnatural, that movement. Especially since none of the onlookers had heard a word of the exchange.

She smiled slowly, in spite of her throbbing headache.
You want it, don't you?

He just held her gaze, then turned, stepped up to the desk and said, “We need a room.”

“Check in time isn't until—”

“We'll pay extra. Just check us in now.”

“All right, sir. Would you like a king or two doubles?”

“King,” he said, glancing at Briar once more. “One bed.”

“Two beds,” she corrected, then added silently to Reaper alone,
I said I'd fuck you, not sleep with you.
She sent him a sexy wink, then looked away and tried not to feel her stomach tightening in need and delicious anticipation.

But she felt it anyway.

S
eth and Vixen flew to Dallas, rented a car and went straight from the airport to the address mentioned in the news report. It was one of many dormitory buildings at a private college, and it was completely surrounded by yellow police tape.

Vixen touched Seth's arm, then met his eyes. “I don't think I can go in there.”

“Yeah. The death energy is pretty overwhelming, isn't it?”

“It was brutal, what happened there.” She closed her eyes and felt the panic, the pain, the fear, that had swept through the building such a short time ago. She felt the blows, saw the blood that even now stained the walls and floors. “They didn't die in the ecstasy of a vampire's embrace,” she whispered. “They were brutalized, savaged. And yet…”

“And yet there were vampires here. But the energy is off.” Seth dragged his gaze from the building, focusing on his beloved mate instead. “Stay here, out of sight. I'll go in, take a quick look around and come right back.”

She shook her head. “I'll go with you.”

“You don't have to.”

“I want to.” She slid her hand into his, and they exploded from the sheltering trees in a burst of vampiric speed, to keep from being seen by anyone who might be watching. And it was quite apparent to both of them that someone was. Even though it was the middle of the night, this place was a crime scene and probably the talk of the campus. The door burst open as if caught by a freak gust of wind, or at least that was how it would appear to human eyes, and then they were inside.

Seth pushed the door closed, and the two of them moved through the entryway, up the stairs and along the halls. None of the doors were closed tightly, much less locked. It was, Vixen thought, probably too much trouble for the investigators to have to unlock them every time they returned, and they were no doubt far from finished processing this crime scene.

“Three girls died in this one,” she whispered, standing in the hallway outside the slightly open door, head down, eyes closed.

Seth peered inside, but she didn't have to look to know what he saw. Flashes she tried not to see snapped through her mind. The blood spatter on the far wall. The thickened puddle of it that had dried on the floor. The stains on the bed.

“Two more there,” she said, pointing. “There was more than one attacker. Not humans, but not vampires, either—or not exactly.”

“I know exactly what they were,” Seth said. “I've fought those bastards before.” He met Vixen's eyes, his own filled with anger.

 

“Drones,” Topaz said. “A half dozen of them, and maybe more.”

She and Jack were at the house in Oklahoma City where the mass murder had taken place. The scene had been cleaned up, but thirteen victims had been killed there, and the energy their passing had left behind was laced with panic, pain and horror.

“I don't get any sense of Gregor, though,” Jack said, as they moved through the house. “I don't think he was even here.”

Topaz turned to face him, staring into his eyes while seeking inwardly for an answer. “But we know he commands an army of them. Do you think these drones acted of their own accord?”

“I don't know what reason they'd have,” Jack said.

“Besides, they don't have brains enough to do
anything
of their own accord.” He stepped over a broken vase. “They didn't drain the victims. There's blood everywhere. Like they were in a rage, but we both know those lummoxes don't feel enough to work up a good anger over anything. They only do what they're told to do.”

“So Gregor told them to come here and kill those people.” Topaz gazed around the room. There were still half-f glasses on the table, trays filled with finger foods, bowls of already stale chips and souring dip. The sound system on the far wall had a red light flashing on and off incessantly. Someone had apparently hit the pause button, instead of Stop.

She could look at the floor and see where and how each and every body had fallen. And she could have sensed that even without the bloodstains and chalk outlines that marked the spots.

“Why would Gregor send his drones out to commit apparently random mass murders?”

Her cell phone rang. Swearing and looking around quickly, as if in fear of being overheard, Topaz tugged it from her bag and flipped it open, then glanced at Jack. “It's Roxy. What's up, Rox?” she said into the phone.

“It's a diversion,” Roxy said. “It has to be. Wait, I've got Seth on the other line. I'll bring him in.” She clicked a button, activating her phone's three-way calling feature. “Listen to me. You're finding the same messes at both crime scenes. I can't sense things the way you can, but I don't think this was a vampire.”

“It was the drones,” Seth said.

“What we can't figure out is why,” Vixen added.

“You can't?” Roxy asked. “Listen, think about it. Who commands an army of drones?” She answered her own question before either of them could get a word in.

“Gregor does.”

“But none of us are sensing Gregor's presence,” Jack said. “I'd know if he'd been here.”

“Maybe not. Maybe he's found some way to conceal his presence,” Seth offered. “He
has
to be behind this. Lurking somewhere, pulling the strings.”

“I agree,” Roxy said. “Look, find shelter for the day. Ilyana and I will keep driving straight through—we'll head to Oklahoma City first, because it's closer. We should be there before the day's out. We'll pick up Jack and Topaz then head down to meet you and Vixen in Dallas. From there we'll plan our next move. All right?”

They all disconnected, and Topaz turned to Jack. “I don't have a good feeling about this,” she said.

He slid his arms around her waist, pulled her close. “It'll be okay. Roxy's right, we need to find shelter before sunrise.”

She nodded her agreement, but tipped her head up for his kiss before pulling from his arms and turning to look at their surroundings. “This house isn't exactly isolated,” she said softly. “And we can't very well hole up in the basement, not with the police likely to return,” she added with a look through a window at the yellow tape that surrounded the place.

“Wouldn't want to take shelter too close, anyway. Those lumbering bastards could be lurking.”

“Wouldn't we sense them?”

“Not if Gregor the Great taught them to shield.” Jack clasped her hand as they started back toward their rental car, and she caught him wrinkling his nose as he reached for the door of the ordinary-looking compact.

“Missing your Carrera?” she asked.

He met her eyes, smiled a little sheepishly. “I'm not a snob. But this is a major step down.”

“You're not a snob,” she agreed, as she opened her door and got in. “But you're
such
a guy.”

 

In his mansion, Gregor sat at a horseshoe-shaped desk in what had once been Eric Marquand's basement laboratory, computers all around him. He'd taken all the equipment from Dwyer's office, the stuff he used to monitor Crisa, and set it up here, right beside his own systems.

But it wasn't Crisa he was focusing on just now as he watched the blips move along the screen. Two separate maps filled his monitor, each one with a tiny light blinking as it inched along the spiderweb of lines that represented roads. His subjects were on the move, in search of shelter. His drones had done well, surprisingly well, in planting the GPS tracking devices on the vehicles without being seen or sensed. When the members of Reaper's misfit gang stopped to rest, he would know exactly where they were.

And if all went as it should, they wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

The abduction of his only son hadn't interfered with the elaborate plan he'd spent endless hours concocting. He couldn't allow it to interfere. He would deal with Dwyer and bring Matthias back all in good time. But nothing would delay him in his quest to lure Reaper and Briar to him—alone—to receive their well-deserved punishment.

And it wouldn't be long.

 

Reaper watched as Briar came out of the hotel bathroom. She wore a hotel-issue white terry robe that came only to mid-thigh, and was toweling her riotous curls as she moved. It was dark and wild, her hair. And he thought, as he watched her move across the room, that
she
was dark and wild, as well.

She sat on the first bed she reached. He was standing near the window, which faced due north, out of reach of the sun's direct rays. There were three layers of protection, besides. Vertical blinds, sheer curtains and heavy damask draperies. They would be safe here.

“So?” she asked.

“So…what?”

She stopped rubbing her hair, tossed the damp towel onto the floor and leaned back against the headboard.

“You going to tell me about Rebecca?”

He nodded slowly. “I've never talked to anyone about her, you know. But for some reason, I think I want to tell
you
.”

She lifted her brows, eyeing him in a way that suggested she thought that was strange but said only, “Why?”

“I think it's because I want to make sure you know just how dangerous I truly am, before this…this thing between us goes any further.”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “There's no
thing
between us.” Then she let her gaze slide down him and looked directly at his zipper. “Not yet, anyway.”

“You do that a lot,” he said.

“Do what?” She was looking him in the eye again.

“When the conversation veers toward anything deep, anything real, you shift it to something sexual.”

“And sex isn't
real?”

He said nothing. She sighed, reached over and grabbed a hairbrush from the nightstand. Then she folded her legs on the bed and began brushing her hair, not looking at him again as she spoke. “You're the one changing the subject, Reaper. Who was Rebecca?”

He drew a breath, because he hadn't lied when he'd said that she should be warned. Because despite her denials, there
was
something between them. And there was going to be a lot more, if he could ever break through the barriers she'd spent a lifetime building up. Maybe by telling her this story, he would make her more likely to share something about her own deepest pain with him.

Because he knew she was in pain. A lot of it. He'd never seen anyone in as much pain as Briar, or more in denial of it.

She sent him a look.

She was waiting. All right, then.

“Rebecca was my wife.”

Her brush hovered in the air near her head. He thought it shook a little. Was her hand trembling in reaction to his revelation?

“I married her before I knew what the Agency had in mind for me. We both knew there would be months of separation as I went through my training. But neither of us knew that I wouldn't be the same person when I returned.”

“What was she like?”

“She was…you'd call her soft, I think. She was sensitive, emotional, cried all the time. When she was happy, when she was sad, when she got nervous. There was a vulnerability about her.”

“She was wearing a kick-me sign, huh?”

He glanced at her. “I guess you'd see it that way.”

“If you're vulnerable, you're just asking to get hurt,” she said. She finished brushing her hair and tossed the brush onto the nightstand, then took a pack of cigarettes from it and shook one free. “What did she look like?” Then she held up a hand. “Wait, wait, let me guess.”

“Okay, guess.”

She lit her smoke, dropped her lighter, took a long drag and leaned back again, stretching her legs out on the bed. “Probably could have been a model. Tallish. Not too tall, though. Probably stick-thin. Small tits. But perky, I'll bet.”

She took another puff. “Blond?”

Reaper stared at her. “That's very good.”

“She probably never smoked, rarely drank, and when she did, one or two would do her in. And she considered swearing to be a sign of a lousy upbringing, a lack of class or intelligence or just bad manners.”

Now he narrowed his eyes. “How are you getting all this?”

“Easy. Just imagining my polar opposite.” Shaking her head, she said, “I hate women like that. Weak, needy, always playing the victim. She must have driven you crazy.”

“I loved her.”

“Sure you did. So then why'd you kill her?”

He averted his eyes, maybe a little too quickly. She'd hit him where it hurt.

“Let me guess. You said you came home from your training a different man from the one you'd been before. And from then on, every time you went out on a mission, went out to assassinate some dictator, killing for a living, you came back a little colder. A little harder. A little more distant.”