Night Series Collection: Books 1 and 2 (34 page)

“I don’t understand anything.” I shook my head and ran my nose along the length of his covered-up neck. Somehow he must have spelled the sweater not to move an inch, because no matter how I moved or touched him, the damn thing didn’t shift. “I don’t understand how you survived. I don’t understand why you keep just letting me walk away; I don’t understand how come there are no eyes watching us anymore. How you froze time. What are you doing to me, Billy? Why do you keep coming to me? Are you going to kill me?”

His fingers curled even harder, making me hiss with pleasure and pain. “If I wanted to kill you, I would have. Many times. You have to know the truth.”

“Then tell me.”

“Not now. We don’t have time. Look in that book.”

I frowned. “What book? You’ve seen my trailer—I have thousands.”

“The one Grace’s assistant gave you about me.” I could almost picture the amusement flickering in his dull brown eyes. I wasn’t even surprised that he knew. Billy had always seemed to be ten steps ahead of me. So rather than pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about, I shrugged.

“There’s nothing in that damn thing. A bunch of useless crap. The lines were all blacked out.”

“Not that one. The poems. Read it.”

I felt the pressure of his body shift, sensed he was seconds away from getting up. Panicked, I wrapped my legs around his waist like steel bands.

“You tell me we have to talk and now you’re leaving. Wait for me, talk to me after I’m done with her. What’s so important about those stupid poems? It’s Middle English scribbles. I’ve read the damn thing, none of it makes sense.”

He looked up and then growled. “If I keep us hidden too much longer, whoever’s tailing you will know.”

I shivered because I’d not sensed any eyes on me, not even his.

“Who? The Order?”

“I’m not sure yet, but don’t worry about it. There’s so much”—he paused and I sensed his anger in the words—“so much you don’t know. I’ve got to go.”

“No! Not yet. You’ve got to tell me what’s going on here… You’ve got to give me something.”

Then his fingers were trailing hot along my cheek, feathering down my neck, and I couldn’t stop myself from trembling, from whispering his name.

“I’ll find you again,” he mumbled vehemently. “Read the book.”

Then just like that, he was gone. My arms were empty and the streets were buzzing with noise again. Previously empty doorways were full of people, and they were all staring down at me lying on my back in the middle of the filthy, flea-infested dirt road, and the eyes that were always watching me were back.

With a snarl, I stood and dusted my backside. But I only smeared the mud worse. I didn’t even bother with my hair.

Knowing the night wouldn’t keep my secrets, I didn’t say his name again. There was something in the way he’d kept us hidden that let me know Billy’s secrets, whatever they were, ran as deep as mine. I wasn’t sure if we’d just formed an uneasy alliance or if he was still plotting to destroy me. But where he was concerned, my personal safety had always been a back-burner issue.

Thanks to Grace’s betrayal, I’d learned to listen to my gut. If I had, maybe I wouldn’t be possessed by Pestilence now, and for damn sure Kemen would still be alive. Something inside me screamed to trust Billy, and it wasn’t because he’d really given me any outward signs that I should. But then again, maybe it was just Lust coloring my better judgment.

With a snarl, I hid inside the deepest slice of shadow and traced to Grace’s, leaving nothing but the scent of sulfur in my wake.

~*~

SITTING IN GRACE'S one-bedroom adobe ten minutes later, I had to apply every bit of acting skill I had as I waited for the old bat to come out of the bathroom. Her new assistant had led me to a worn, overstuffed leather chair.

I sometimes wondered what had happened to Mary (Grace’s previous assistant), She’d been so scared of me when I’d first met her, but she was also the one who’d given me that book of Middle English poems that Billy insisted I now read.

I was in the middle of a giant effing conspiracy, and I hated with the heat of a thousand burning fires that I was too stupid to just figure it out. Grace was a rotten seed, the Order was nothing but a bunch of murderous bastards, Billy was still alive, Luc hated my guts I was sure, Kemen was dead…

I swallowed hard because that one still made me want to curl into a ball and cry.

“Pandora!” Grace’s shrill voice sliced through my thoughts. She walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her, and opened her frail-looking arms to me.

Once, I would have run to her. Hugged her with every ounce of love left in me. There used to be a time when I’d thought myself more human than demon, because of her. Because of the lies she’d spoon-fed me and made me believe.

But I knew the opposite to be true now. I wasn’t human. Not really. I never would be. She’d played me for a fool, and all I wanted to do was shove my claws through her chest and rip her heart out. Make her hurt in the same way she’d hurt me.

Lucky for her, Billy had gotten to me first. Made me see I needed to focus and put petty things like revenge off, at least for a while.

Plastering a smile on my face, I stood. “Grace.” I forced warmth into her name and walked to her side, where I grabbed a hold of her elbow and helped guide her to the chair I’d been previously occupying. “It’s so good to see you.” I smiled.

Why hadn’t I noticed the shifty look in her pale blue eyes before? Or the way her pulse increased by a notch, booming like a bullet’s ricochet in my ears?

But even as I asked it, I knew the answer. I’d seen it happen in a million different ways in a million different people. Because when you wanted to believe something, you would. I wasn’t fooled anymore, though I wondered what she would think if she realized the shoe was now on the other foot?

How she must have mocked me to my back, thought me a stupid idiot. I’d heard her tape recording—it’d been sent to me by the Gray Man—her laughing into the line, calling me a fool desperate to believe she actually loved me.

I smiled wider, exposing the full length of my fangs, and experienced a cheap thrill when her eyes widened slightly.

“Always good to see you,” I said, acting the part of the loving adopted daughter I’d once foolishly thought I was. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was scouting the village and heard rumors that I was trying to follow up on, lost track of time.”

Grace cleared her throat and sat. Her smile wasn’t as wide as I usually remembered it. Her skin was definitely more yellow-looking. An obvious sign of a failing liver. Grace was old and would probably die of natural causes soon. But only if I let her. I hadn’t decided yet.

She lifted a hand. “Much better furnishings this time, no?”

She referred, of course, to her previous digs. The place Mary had decorated. It’d been a hideous amalgam of Christmas and gaudy Liberace rolled into one. This small adobe structure wasn’t much to look at on the outside, but inside it was clean. The floors were a sandy-hued tile, the walls stucco, and there were exposed wooden planks in the ceiling. Traditional woven tapestries decorated the walls in a colorful burst of pinks, teals and oranges, and extremely fat beeswax candles lit the sparsely decorated room. There was just the couch I sat on, the leather chair Grace sat on, and one floor rug.

“Better,” I agreed. I’d always been of the less-is-more variety.

“Aye.” She nodded, but I sensed she wasn’t altogether here. She was more distracted than normal, and I’m sure I knew why.

I wasn’t supposed to have survived my night in Hell. And I probably wouldn’t have if Billy hadn’t been there. I saw that night so differently now, when at the time I’d been confused as to whether he meant to kill me himself or rescue me.

The last place in the world I wanted to be was here now. I wanted to talk to Billy, wanted to figure this impossible situation out, which meant I had to be perfect.

“Grace, you’re distracted.” I smiled sympathetically. “What’s the matter?”

Her eyes jerked back to my face and she shook her head. “You always were good at reading me.”

I shrugged and wondered if she knew that the night I’d returned from Hell I’d hovered over her bed with a knife in my hand, ready to slit her from neck to sternum. “You’re like the mom I never had, Grace. I just worry about you.”

“That’s nice.”

“Sooo…,” I drawled when another ten minutes passed. What was up with Grace? She was definitely not on it tonight; it had to be more than just the fact that I’d survived her betrayal. No, she was definitely off her game. “Where’s you’re assistant? Shouldn’t she be bringing my files? You told us to come to Mexico. Something to do with zombies, right?”

Jerking as if she’d been slapped, Grace rubbed her forehead with the back of her liver-spotted hand. “I gave Lupe the night off. But you’re right.” She nodded. “I am distracted and not just about the case.”

Feigning interest, my brows twitched. “Oh? What’s the matter?”

Her smile was weak, never reaching her eyes. “Just a phone call I got before you arrived.” She swished her hand.

When you live as long as I have, you come to learn tells pretty well. Most of them, believe it or not, are fairly universal across distance and language barriers. Grimaces for bad smells. Eyes widening for a lie. Swallowing compulsively from nerves.

She was moistening her lips and swallowing hard. An obvious sign that she was nervous about something. Very nervous.

I can’t deny that got my curiosity burning. Very few things had ever made Grace this way. She was the quintessential example of cool under fire.

“My documents are over there.” She pointed a gnarled finger at the pitifully tiny kitchen counter. “Next to the hot plate. Can you grab them?”

I quickly retrieved the papers and started thumbing through them. Same routine as all the other times before. “So what’s up, Grace?”

“Zombie hive has activated for some reason. We’ve kept an eye on this part of the region for a while, suspecting that perhaps the hive might be planning something.”

You might hear hive and feel a little confused. Point in fact, zombies are not the mindless killers books have made them out to be. They do have a pack mentality, but they only attack when ordered by their creator or, as they refer to her, their queen. Of all the paranormal baddies in the world, zombies were pretty all right by me. They liked to eat brains and mostly kept to themselves. But if you didn’t bother them, they usually wouldn’t bother you. Unless of course you were dinner and well… then all bets were off.

But knowing that, I couldn’t help but think of the conversation I’d heard back in the bar. True, zombies ate humans for food, but they didn’t usually go around leaving disfigured corpses in their wake. If they were gonna eat ya, trust me, there’d be nothing left. Sort of like lions in the wild, they didn’t kill for fun.

I flipped through the pictures of bodies, most of them with limbs missing and heads cracked open, brains oozing out of them, reminding me a little of a mealy watermelon, except more putrid-looking.

I’d seen worse.

Lifting a brow, I flipped to a particularly gruesome image of a desiccated corpse, maybe in his fifties. I had to judge that strictly off the liver marks on his hands. His head was gone—there was only a neck, a torso, two arms, and one leg. None of it attached, however. The rib cavity had been cracked open and two of the ribs had clearly been gnawed on.

“Lovely.” I slipped the picture back into the folder. “They’re getting a little sloppy though, aren’t they? Not usually their style.”

“Mm.” Grace nodded and smoothed her silvery-white flyaways.

She obviously wasn’t in the mood to make small talk, and honestly, neither was I. This was straining the limits of my patience. “Orders?”

Shaking her head, her gaze turned back to me. What was making her so damned distracted? Stretching my senses, I listened for the not so obvious. Last time I’d been to one of Grace’s safe houses, I’d failed to note the portal to Hell she kept hidden in her bedroom. Clues like that would have spared Kemen his life, would have made me realize who my true enemy was.

I wasn’t making that same mistake again.

It was a common misconception that the entrance to Hell was coated in fire. Not true. Hell was cold. Bitterly, brutally cold. The type of cold that sank into your lungs like a parasite and froze you from the inside out.

I’d experienced that type of cold only once in my life, but ever since Pestilence infected me, my body was acting weird. Because the next time I’d come across the portal, I’d felt nothing. Not a buzz or flicker of awareness. That same nothing was what I was feeling now. I got the feeling that I could no longer sense it because Pestilence had been a full-blooded lower-caste demon who wouldn’t register Hell as anything other than home, permanently nullifying my ability to feel for it.

Jutting my jaw, I realized I should have asked Luc to attach the infrared. We’d discovered that pure-blooded demons—Lower Caste and High Caste, or LCDs and HCDs—and the Nephilim transmitted color on a different spectrum and that tiny black box had also picked up an anomalous marker when I’d walked into Grace’s home. In hindsight we figured out that what it had actually picked up was the gateway.

If I hadn’t been so freaking determined to get away from Luc this afternoon, I might have thought this through sooner rather than later.

“Aye.” She nodded and then shook herself like a dog coming back to its senses. “The zombies. Hives rarely stay put in any one place too long, it’s how they have successfully managed to remain hidden in big towns. But the circumference of their movements has been fairly consistent. The very final picture is an aerial shot of the Sierra Madre range.”

Yanking the picture out, I studied the overhead and widespread shot of rugged peaks and winding valleys dotted over with shrubs and trees.

“They are somewhere within the red circle.” Her fingers fluttered in the direction of the picture.

“Grace, our carnival is parked at least a day’s travel from this area.” My impatience was clearly evident.

Her look was bland as she said, “Dora, you know Mexico like the back of your hand. It is nothing for you to work the carnival at night and search out the network of caves during the day.”