Ethan yawned again and leaned against the wall. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he looked far too tired to think straight.
“You should get some sleep,” I said. “I have more than enough weapons to last. You don’t have to kill yourself fixing them. Slow down a bit, relax.”
He smiled and shrugged. “I know. I just like making sure things are done in a timely manner.”
I returned his smile. “Still, I don’t like seeing you so tired. Someday, I might need you at your best. You don’t have to sleep during the day. You aren’t restricted to the night like I am.”
“Yeah, but when would we have these little chats?” He laughed. “I like the night just fine. There are fewer distractions when it’s dark.”
I wasn’t so sure about that but nodded anyway. There was something in his eye that said that wasn’t the entire story. He definitely wasn’t telling me something.
He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “You should get some sleep, too,” he said. “It’s been a busy couple of nights.”
“I don’t need to sleep.”
He gave me a look that said, “I already knew that,” as clearly as if he had spoken it. “You know what I mean,” he said. “You’ve got to give your head a rest or you’re going to drive yourself crazy thinking about what you could have done differently, what you should have done, what might have happened. I can almost hear those wheels turning in your head.”
I looked down at my gun. I knew he was right, but it was hard. As long as I kept working on something, even if it was as mundane as cleaning my gun, it helped ease my mind, but it only went so far.
“You’re probably right,” I said, sighing. I pushed away from the table and holstered the gun. “I need to go upstairs anyway. It’ll be light soon.”
“Really?” Ethan said. His eyes drifted toward the door where the night was quickly giving way to day. “I thought we still had a few hours yet until first light.” He yawned. “Maybe that’s why I feel like hell.”
I smiled but didn’t say anything. There was no sense in chastising him about working too hard. It was really all he had left in his life. I definitely knew the feeling.
He started up the stairs but paused halfway up. “What are you going to do about the Cult?” he asked, turning to look back at me. I saw genuine concern on his face.
“I’m going to see what they want,” I said. If nothing else, my night had ensured I had no choice. I couldn’t go on like this, searching the house like a paranoid psychopath every time I came home. “If it’s a trap, I’ll be ready.”
“Don’t let them take your weapons.”
“I won’t.”
“Good,” Ethan said. “I’m going to bed.” He turned and resumed his trek upstairs.
I watched him go with a frown on my face. I was worried about him. It wasn’t just a fear that someone would come and kill him while I was out working. That was always a risk, one we both accepted.
No, it wasn’t that. I was afraid he was pushing himself too hard to make me happy. When I took him in, I did so because we shared the same miseries, the same past. I never asked him to work for me like he did. It was his choice, always had been.
Then why did I feel so terrible about it?
I followed him up a moment later, taking all my weapons with me. I was feeling far too vulnerable to leave them anywhere but my bedside.
I passed outside Ethan’s closed bedroom door and just stood there, listening to him move around on the other side. He was humming softly to himself. It was out of tune, barely recognizable, and yet it held a sort of contentment I couldn’t quite understand.
I patted the door, quietly as not to let him know I had been listening, and headed to my bedroom to escape the rest of the day, wondering how he managed to be content when I was screwed up inside. I would give anything to know that feeling.
Somehow, I knew I was asking for the impossible.
7
The day passed slowly and I did the only thing I could do.
I thought.
Outside, the world was going on like it always had. Men and women went to work, spent time together, and more often than not, completely forgot about the horrors of the night. It was a peace I could never know.
And it wasn’t just the Purebloods who experienced this. There were quite a few werewolves who hid what they really were and went about the day like normal people. They didn’t hunt until the sun was down, choosing prey that wouldn’t get them into trouble.
But that was something I could never do. Vampires couldn’t abide the sun. How two creatures so similar had such a drastic difference in their makeup was beyond me. I sometimes wished if I had been turned into anything, it would have been a werewolf. Then I could enjoy the day, even for just a little bit. I still would be forced to hunt at night, but that would be a small price to pay for being able to stand under the sun.
Not for the first time, I wished something would happen, some change that would make all of this seem worth it. While I knew what I did was helpful, it didn’t really affect me personally in any real way. I was putting my life at risk for others. Nothing I did would change what I was, who I had become.
And that was the thing. Why did I do what I do? I always looked down on those Purebloods who risked the night, putting their own lives at risk, for what? A fun night out with danger lurking around every corner? A chance to play supe without actually becoming one? Or was it more, a deep-rooted wish that a monster would strike out and end some unnamed torment?
Was it really so different from what I was doing? I was risking my life every time I went out. If someone were to ask me, I would say I didn’t want to die. But was that really the truth?
I wasn’t sure. You didn’t go walking into a vampire House alone if you didn’t have a desire to die, even a small one.
I rolled over in my bed and stared at the wall. None of this was helping. I was mentally torturing myself for no better reason than to forget the real problem I was facing.
The Luna Cult.
I knew I was crazy to even consider walking into their Den, weapons or no weapons, without knowing exactly what they wanted from me. There were rumors that they had one or more werewolves in their midst, rogues who had managed to escape the grasp of vampire Houses. If that was true, I was in for some serious trouble. No wolf would ever want to deal with a vampire like me.
I had been doing this for a long time, killing vampires and werewolves, never once considering that one of them might not be as bad as they seemed. I could see no way in which the Cult would ever want to befriend me. It was more likely they wanted me dead.
And there was only one way I was going to find out.
By the time the sun was down, I was dressed in my work attire, pacing. I felt constricted in my black leather; but when hiding in the dark, black was the obvious choice. Sometimes I wished I could just wear jeans and a T-shirt when on the job. It would be far more comfortable that way, but the thought of trying to get bloodstains out of blue jeans was enough to keep me from really considering it.
Besides, it was a fashion statement. I had to look good when I was killing someone. It was only polite.
I checked to make sure the clip of my gun was full before slamming it into place and holstering the Glock. I had both of my knives hidden in their sheaths at my belt, and my sword was hanging at my side.
Everything seemed in order, yet I still felt overwhelmingly underequipped. I was taking a risk going to the Den. I felt as though I should be taking far more firepower with me to balance out what would inevitably be a severe numbers disadvantage.
I slipped three extra packets of silver dust into an inner coat pocket on a whim. The stuff bothered me just as much as it would another vamp or wolf, but at least I would know to close my eyes and look away when the packet was broken.
I headed downstairs, looking like death in leather.
Ethan was waiting in the dining room for me. Worry lined his every feature, and he was absently playing at the collar of his shirt as he drank a cup of black coffee.
“I’ll be fine,” I said before he could say anything. “You know I’m used to this sort of thing. I have walked into rooms full of vamps and wolves and come out of it unscathed. This should be cake.”
“I know,” he said. “But the vampires and werewolves never know you’re coming. The Cult will be ready for you.”
“You’re the one who suggested I listen to their messenger.”
He smiled. “I know that, too, but still ...”
I patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. It’s just a bunch of Purebloods. They might be crazy, but they’re still Purebloods. I can handle them.”
“I wish I could believe that,” he said, his face turning troubled. “It was just too easy for them to find us, to get inside. Could crazy Purebloods pull that off so easily? I checked the locks. None of them was busted or turned. All the windows were latched.”
I glanced at the door and frowned. I hadn’t thought about how the Cultist had gotten in. We didn’t have a security system installed. Neither of us wanted the cops coming to the house if something were to happen. There would be too many questions, especially if the perpetrator turned up dead.
But even without the security system, the locks were the top of the line. There was no way anyone would have been able to pick them, and I sure as hell didn’t forget to lock up before leaving. I’m far too paranoid for that.
My gaze traveled to the windows, but they were no help either. Bulletproof glass with heavy-duty locks on the inside made those puppies as hard to penetrate as the doors.
“Did he find the key?” I asked thoughtfully. It stood to reason that if the Cultist had indeed followed me home at some point, he could have seen one of us remove one of the keys. I never used the front door, but that didn’t mean Ethan didn’t.
“Could have,” Ethan said, taking a sip of coffee. “I plan on changing the locks anyway. We can’t let this happen again.”
“I’ll collect the keys and bring them in before I leave. You’ll have to let me in when I get home.”
“That could work ...” Ethan said. “For a little while.” He peered into his mostly empty cup. “Of course, they might have copied the key, so it wouldn’t matter if you brought them all in or not.”
I frowned at that. One copy could become two, could become three. There was no telling how many keys were floating around if they had copied one. Hell, they could have taken the key to the back door and I never would have known. I used the back door less often than the front.
My eyes traveled from the glass door to the trees beyond. The land sloped away, and all I could see were the trees surrounding the property. Anyone could be out there, watching. Waiting.
I shivered. I had always thought of the trees as protection. Now, they were a potential hiding place for someone to watch the house unobserved.
I pulled the blinds closed, cutting off the view. “Let me get the keys.”
Ethan remained seated as I went out to gather the three keys hidden around the house. They all were in their places, but that meant little if the Cultist had brought a stolen one back. The front-door key was under the outside light, which swiveled up to reveal the small compartment. The back-door key was hidden just the same. I even brought in the key from the garage, even though I doubted anyone could get in that way.
I entered through the back door and tossed the keys on the table where Ethan still sat. His coffee mug was empty and he was sitting back, lost in thought.
“I will definitely need to change the locks,” he said without looking my way. I wasn’t even sure he was talking to me. He had that faraway look in his eye I had become accustomed to. He was thinking pretty hard. “I think I know of a way to do it without keys.”
I didn’t ask how. He had his ways. He had fixed up the Honda, my gun, and had figured out a way to make silver swords that would cut right through a vampire’s spine. I wasn’t about to question him on anything. The guy was a genius as far as I was concerned.
I reached into my coat pocket and removed the note the Cultist had left me. It was crumpled from the constant fingering I had done during the day. The scrawl on the page was hard to read, but there was no doubt as to where I was going. I had the address committed to memory since the first time I saw it.
“You better get going,” Ethan said, rising. He took his empty mug to the sink and set it facedown inside. “I’ll probably be working all night again and want to get started right away.”
“Okay,” I said. I rested a hand on his arm as I worked my way past him to the garage door. He smiled at me, but it faded before I could look away. He was troubled, scared for me.
I didn’t blame him. I was scared for me, too.
The garage was as I had left it, the Honda the only vehicle in the place. Even though I had just been in there to retrieve the key, I felt watched, as if someone was hiding in the deepest, darkest corner. I knew it was my imagination, knew I was alone, but I walked around the garage anyway, checking to make sure no one was there.
A partly full gas can was sitting on the workbench amidst a smattering of tools that I had never touched. A light layer of dust covered most of the things in the garage. Only the bike was clean of dust. Ethan rarely came to the garage, even when he needed to work on the Honda. Most of the time, we worked the heavy motorcycle down into the basement and he would take it the rest of the way down to his workshop on his own.
I got down on my knees and checked under the bench, then went ahead and checked every pipe on the motorcycle to make sure nothing was stuffed inside or hidden under the seat. I scoured it, certain I would find a bomb or some sort of tracking device.
There was nothing.
I shook my head, angry at myself for being so paranoid. Again. Just because one guy got in didn’t mean the entire world was out to get me.
Of course, the moment I let my guard down would be the moment someone planted something under my seat.
I slipped on the bike and started it up. It sounded loud in the closed garage. I pressed the button for the garage door and it opened slowly, revealing the night-shaded driveway inch by inch.
I walked the bike out, still feeling as though there was something I was missing somewhere, some important piece of the puzzle that would make everything clear. I had no idea what it would be. I wasn’t even sure there was anything to worry about.
A blast of cold air swept over me, causing me to shiver. Just great. It was going to be a cold night. Just what I needed.
My gaze swept over the yard, down to the trees that hid the road from view. I fully expected to see someone moving, some glint of glass from binoculars, anything that would let me know someone was out there. As far as I could tell, the night was empty.
I hated feeling this way. I had no idea what I was walking into, which was something I wasn’t used to. I liked everything to be planned out ahead of time. Walking into the Luna Cult Den without an inkling as to what they wanted from me was a far cry from a precise plan.
There was nothing I could do about it. The Cult knew where I lived. I had to do this or else they might never leave me alone. The thought alone was enough to cause my blood to boil.
I lifted my feet and gave the Honda gas. Gravel spewed from beneath my tires as I shot down the driveway.
Yeah, I was angry. I just hoped the Luna Cult was prepared to deal with the monster they invited to their home.
Then again, maybe not. It might make me feel better to knock a few heads around.