Bete Noire (27 page)

Finally he cut through, freeing the g
irl. She fell into his arms and he barely kept from stabbing her with the knife on accident. She was frozen for a stunned moment, blinking up at him. Then the panic hit and she tried to get away. He wasn’t going to stop her but her feet didn’t work and she ended up falling face first into a drying puddle of her own blood, sobbing.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching for her. “It’s okay.” He lightly touched her shoulder, the only skin on her back that wasn’t lacerated and raw. He shut his eyes for a moment, lamenting the pain she’d been through and hoped she could recover from it with her sanity. The crackle of quick spreading fire brought him out of his revere. He looked up and while he couldn’t see actual flames, he saw the light from them.

Damn, guess he went a little overboard with the flamethrower.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

The woman looked at him a moment and then broke down. She let out a Claire Danes “Juliet” worthy sob and collapsed against him. He sighed and held her to his chest while she cried, whispering soft soothing words to her. Though if she understood anything he was saying, he couldn’t tell. Right then, he didn’t really care. They were wasting too much time. But if he pushed her, she might fight him and he needed to get her to safety. He didn’t know how, but he had to. In the midst of comforting her, brushing her hair with his hands, Tristan noticed her ears. They were pointy. She wasn’t human, apparently. One of these seven shinwa Sebastian spoke of?

A real elf
?
Maybe
.

After a few minutes of snot-bubbling sobbing, she quieted, relaxing against him. He was about to stand them up when she slid her arms
around his waist, hugging him back. He pulled away, not wanting her to get the wrong idea but then it happened before he realized what she was really doing.

“No,” he gasped as she threw herself back. She was laid out on her back and looked vulnerable if it weren’t for that big ass gun pointed at him.

“Damn.” He put his hands up and stood slowly. She stumbled to her feet, shaking all over and staggered backwards. Her legs were trembling violently, threatening to spill her to the floor at any moment. Tristan’s gun was way too big for her hands and she had it use both to keep it held up and pointed at him—both forefingers set on the trigger and trembling as violently as her legs. She would shoot him, but maybe just on accident. 

“It’s fine, we’re fine.”

“Bad,” she said.

He shook his head and not for the first time tonight, wished he had pulled his hair back
as it stuck to his cheeks and neck. “Non.”

“Bad,” she said again louder. She was trying to convince herself as much as him.

He sighed, backing away and to the left, showing her a clear getaway. He had intended to help her, get her out to the car, put her in Ash’s long coat. Save the girl’s life. Now he just wanted to get away from her and if that meant giving up his gun, then so be it. He had a job to do and it was getting late.

“Look lady. I’m the good guy here.” He shook his head, eyes on the gun. “You can just leave if you don’t trust me.” He looked up again, meeting her teary eyes and slowly motioned towards the open doorway keeping his hands up. “I’m here for the guys who hurt you, not you. Just
go.”

She took a tentative step towards him and stopped, staring him down, taking in every inch of his face
, trying to find the lie in his words.

“Go on,” he encouraged.

She took a step. Then another. The closer she got to him, the more her hands shook the big ass gun. Tristan stood completely stoic, afraid to even breathe deeply or else she might snap and shoot him. When she was even with him there was a loud bang from down the hallway that echoed like a gong throughout the castle. The girl yelped and the gun went off.

Tristan was already falling to the ground, moving out of the way. He hit the ground and his left cheek burst into pain. He groaned and looked up in time to see the girl spin and fire at the open doorway. She screamed around the thunder of the gun going off. Tristan couldn’t be sure what the girl was shooting at, but he had a pretty damn good idea. He pulled up on a knee and touched his left cheek, scoffing when he came away with blood. By the time he looked up two seconds later, the girl was gone.

The telltale thud of his big gun hitting the ground and the sudden cut off of the woman’s screaming left an eerie cold feeling in his gut. The only sound left was the roar of fire as it ate at the old furnishings of the long forgotten castle. The fire was spreading too quickly.

Dammit all.

Still kneeling, eyes scanning for eminent danger, he reached down to his boot for the knife. Fingers had just touched the cool surface of the handle when a figure shot into the room. An instant sneer twisted Tristan’s features as Sebastian stopped in front of him, the girl held in his arms with her back against his chest. Her big doe eyes were full of tears and terror as she looked to Tristan, silently asking for help. 

“Ah!
Monsieur hunter. Glad we meet again. A terrible mess you have made with your fire toy. I will have a hell of a time trying to put it out. But, before that...” He stepped forward a single step. Tristan must have made some involuntary movement, betraying his intent to stand with the knife because Sebastian said, “Now now, you don’t want to be doing that.”

Sebastian may not have been vampire, but he’d proven to be stronger than the average human. Than Tristan.
And Tristan had only two goals in that moment, free the girl and kill Sebastian. Simple and yet—Tristan groaned as he jerked the knife from the boot holster.

The fae’s expression contorted into deep anger. The moment his hand was free of the girl’s mouth, she let out a scream. But the sound was abruptly cut off and replaced with the crack of bones. Tristan watched, horrified, unable to stop it from happening as the fae twisted the girl’s neck and ended her life.

“No!” he shouted and took a step forward.

Sebastian dropped the girl to the ground like an unwanted toy. She crumpled to his feet in a heap, her neck at an obvious wrong angle with her face well past her shoulder, backwards. Sebastian met Tristan’s gaze and the look in those brilliant green eyes was deadly. Tristan stiffened, feeling less sure.

“I had warned you.”

Tristan mumbled something about Sebastian fucking himself, to which the fae laughed and took a step towards him over the body of the poor girl he was unable to save. He frowned at her for only a moment, sorry he couldn’t save her. He looked to Sebastian again. The man was grinning happily as if he knew exactly what Tristan was thinking.

With just the one knife, Tristan knew he had to get to either his gun in the hall—therefore getting past Sebastian—or the flamethrower at his back where he left it to cut down the girl. He knew which he was going for.

He stepped backwards and Sebastian followed the movement, mirroring him. The guy wasn’t going to let him have an inch.

“Why’d you kill her?”

Sebastian raised dark brows, taking another step with Tristan. The look on the fae’s face was answer enough.

“She was innocent.”

“You think so? My, you truly are as naïve as I thought. She was nothi
ng, a whore of vampire desires with nothing to offer but her pretty life.”

“You’re a son of a bitch, you fucking two-faced elf!”

The taunt did exactly what Tristan had hoped. Sebastian jumped for him with a roar. Giving up on the idea of going for the flame thrower, Tristan charged with his knife out, positioned to take Sebastian in the heart. At the last moment, Sebastian made this graceful move, like a pirouette and twisted out of the way. The spin put Sebastian behind Tristan, pressed shoulder to shoulder. Tristan gasped as a pair of hot, slender hands grabbed his face and jerked his head back. He lost his balance as a foot took him in the back of a knee.

“Fuck!” he gasped as he went down. There was no stopping the fall. And as he landed he knew he’d lost the fight. An elbow cracked him in the middle of the forehead and his vision blinked out. Weight pressed down on his chest as the fae took a seat on him.

“Not such a strong vampire hunter now, are we?” Sebastian said in French, voice low and soft before switching back to English. He patted Tristan on the cheek. “You’re going to sleep now. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you in your sleep. That would be dishonorable after all… And don’t worry if you’re stiff when you wake, that is normal.”

Tristan groaned, wondering what the man was talking about and there was a warm chuckle as the weight on his chest let up. He had a moment to take in a deep breath before his shoulder burst into pain. An ice cold eel scaled in razor blades slithered its way through his veins. The cold burned him from the inside out. It hit his brain like dry ice, instantly cutting off all communication with the rest of his body. And as he gave over the pain, let his body shut down, he hoped that the lying bastard of a fae was actually telling the truth and wouldn’t kill him in his sleep… that was if he wasn’t dying now. Because he was pretty sure he was.

TRISTAN wasn’t dead but felt like maybe he’d been really close. He was someplace cold. Cold and achy. No, the ache was his head. Why did his head hurt? Oh yeah, that lying bastard, Sebastian, he elbowed him in the face. Asshole hit hard... for a
faerie
. And what the hell was that electricity that scorched his veins before he passed out, some kind of faerie drug?

He groaned, sitting up as he clutched his head and smacked his lips. His mouth was dry and tasted tangy with a hint of something leafy, side effects of the drug Sebastian doped him with. 

“Tristan?”

“Ash?” He forgot to breathe for a moment. “Holy shit, where—are you okay?”

He stopped when he saw where he was—really saw it. He was seated in the corner of a small square room only slightly bigger than his shoebox bedroom back in Japan. There was a puddle of dirty, smelly water gathering in the corner opposite where the stones were slightly caved in. Not all of the stink was from that water. There was a perfume to the air that spoke of dead things. Long dead. And dank basement musk. The same decrepit, moldy gray brick of the rest of the castle made up three of the walls with the occasional chip or defect. The fourth wall was lined in bars, rusted and closely spaced.

A Dungeon.

I’m in a fucking dungeon
.

“Yes,” Ash sighed, hugging herself where she leaned against a wall in her own cell.

Yes, she was fine but she wasn’t about to tell him that she was embarrassed at how easily she was caught. That she was now paying for her carelessness by being locked in the ancient castle prison, naked. That’s right, Lucien saw it fit to relieve her of not only her weapons, but her clothes too. He said that they’d be coming off soon anyway and folded them neatly as if he meant to give them back to her again. They both knew he intended to kill her.

“You have been out for some time… It is nearly daybreak. Are you all right?”

He cursed under his breath. “Yeah…,” he grumbled, rubbing his forehead where Sebastian hit him and found a knot. “I’m okay. Sebastian, he killed this woman. I tried to save her, but...” He let out a long sigh. “I lost.”
For now
. “Jesus Christ, Ash couldn’t you read his mind to know he was a traitor?”

“No.” It was short and clipped. “I told you before, the faerie have to allow us to read their mind. Sebastian had his mind closed to me the entirety of his stay. I assumed he wanted to maintain his privacy.”

“Well, shit.” He slumped into the corner, letting it hold him up. He realized all his weapons were gone—big shock—and his feet were bare and cold. At least he still had his shirt and pants. “Wait. Didn’t you read anything from his blood when you had that taste the other night?”

“While only a few vampire alive are strong enough to keep another of our kind from reading their memories while feeding, all fae have that ability naturally.”

“Damn…”

Ash gave her own dismayed sigh in answer. “Agreed.”

Legs a little unsteady, Tristan used the corner to stand. He felt weighted down on bottom and light on top. He suppressed a disorientated groan and fell against the wall even as he reached out to walk forward.

“Shit,” he hissed, forcing himself to move.

Ash moved across her cell to the wall separating them. “What is the trouble?”

He groaned again, his vision threatening to blackout. God, his ankles felt like he was wearing work-out weights. He had to look just to make sure he really wasn’t. “Nothing, just that fucking Sebastian—he hit me and then drugged me with something, I don’t know what, but it fucking hurt… felt like my veins were filled with razor blades made of dry ice.”

“I wish I could see you…,” she said softly, sounding sad and wistful.

He smiled at the honesty of it. When he reached the end of the wall he let go, falling forward into the bars. They looked old and were covered in crud that rubbed off on his hands, but they felt solid. Strong. “Can you bend the bars?”

“Do you not think I have tried?” She sounded snippy. And with due reason. While Tristan had been out for the past few hours, she’d been wide awake and thoroughly aware of their less than favorable situation. One she wasn’t sure she knew how to get them out of. At least she knew the coming day wouldn’t see her end in their windowless hell.

Tristan looked to the door, longingly. He
knew
. He knew it was futile, but he had to do it. He dragged himself over. When he got there, he felt her, the faint hum of vampire. It was so familiar and welcomed that he smiled, sighing wistfully before he grabbed the door bars and giving them a hard shake.

Ash felt Tristan’s presence too through the wall and when she spoke again she sounded less agitated. Vampire may have felt cold to Tristan, but to Ash the Uruwashi felt warm. Like being wrapped up in a thick blanket that smelled like your favorite thing. “Locked.”

“Had to at least try,” he grumbled. He’d be angry with himself if he didn’t. It’s like locking your keys in the car—you just know all the doors are locked, see the little alarm light blinking at you, mocking and yet, you still
have
to test the door. All of the doors, even the trunk, because maybe, by some otherworldly miracle, you’d get lucky and find one that opens. That was the will of determination.

“I understand.”

Tristan sighed and rested his head against the bars, too tired to hold himself up anymore. There were cells across from his, all empty, their doors propped open as if teasing him. As far as he could see there was nothing but dank empty cells and deep shadows.

“Ash?” he whispered.

A pale, dirty hand shot out the cell to the right of his. He gasped, diving for the corner. He reached out, their fingers barely about to touch and electricity shot through him at the familiar feel of her smooth, cold skin. She may have decided she was done with him, but he was still lost on her. He needed her just as much as she needed him, only Tristan was still willing to admit it.

“Look, Ash, I know this is isn’t the time for this but we have to talk. Well, no. Just listen to me, that’s all I ask. In need to tell you
some things.” 

“Tristan—” she breathed a moment before the presence she felt coming interrupted her.

“Mon dieu, I hope it isn’t too important,” the smug French accent echoed down the hall.

Tristan jerked back, pulling his arm back inside his prison, but not before pranging his elbow on a cross bar. He moaned, holding his arm to his chest as he fought with his balance. He could stand on his own but it wasn’t easy. If he had to fight, he knew he was toast.

Ash’s hand disappeared back into her cell and the lying bastard faerie himself appeared before Tristan’s cell. He was still dressed in the same uniform he’d been wearing since his arrival—black slacks, white button-up, non-descript tie—but now his clothes were all askew. His shirt was untouched, his tie hung in a loose noose around his neck and the blood, it was everywhere else, matted the man’s shiny black hair to his head, staining his cheeks, neck and hands. With his hair like that, Tristan saw the man’s ears for the first time. They were pointed, just like the woman from upstairs.

“I really must thank you,” he said to Tristan. “If you hadn’t insulted me, I might have had to find a less effective way of denying Ash my blood. Lucien would have been most displeased with me if she had shown up well fed and with the power to level this place.”

“Sebastian,” Tristan hissed. “Why’d you do it? Why’d you betray us?”

From the other cell Ash gave a deep sigh, almost groan. Tristan stiffened. He knew that sigh all too well. She was about to lose her consciousness to the sun. Anxiety surged through him, making
the swaying steady just a little as the adrenaline helped him get a grip on reality. She would be defenseless within moments and despite his one-up on her, being conscious, he was defenseless too. There was no way he could fight in his current condition. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. The moment the fae got close enough for him to get his hands on…

Sebastian’s bright green eyes flicked to Ash for a moment and then back on Tristan. He smiled, showing all of those pretty white teeth. “Sorry
, but I lied. You understand, Lucien is my real Master. Yukihime had sent that half breed bitch upstairs as your attendant. I had wanted to enjoyer her longer, but after that mess you made with your little fire toy—amusing monsieur hunter, terribly amusing—I had no choice but to kill her fast. Ah, but I did find a great deal of joy in dissecting her. I never really knew how much blood my kind held... the elixir of life as they say.”

“Bastard! That woman didn’t deserve—“ He bit back his anger, telling himself he had to remain calm and maybe he’d glean what he wanted to know. “What is it you get out of all this anyway, huh? Lucien promising you immortality?”

The fae gave a little cock of his head to the side. “Immortality? Truly you can’t be so naïve to think such a thing exists. Besides, I know how to live as long I wish without turning to such… primitive dealings.”

Tristan frowned, not understanding. Ash never said anything about fae being immortal, just long lived. “Then what? Why come play perfect servant with us? Was it just to fuck with us? Spy?”

Sebastian smiled, a crooked, shit-eating kind of smile that gave Tristan a chill. “It is the nature of my kind, mousier.”

There was a heavy, annoyed sigh and then Ash’s strained voice saying, “Faerie cannot help but put their noses into trouble. I should have known better. How foolish of me to
not think beyond the obvious.”

Tristan’s breath caught, having not realized she was still awake.

Sebastian took a few steps towards Ash’s cell. Suddenly on high alert, Tristan flung himself against the bars and reached out as if he could stop the fae. “Hey! Leave her alone.”

Sebastian
only gave him a passing glance. “There is no reason to worry. I shall not harm her.” He turned to Ash again. The look on his face was considering as he looked her over. He spoke to Ash again, in French. Somewhere in there was Tristan’s name. Ash’s answer was a sharp and definitive, “yes.” Sebastian laughed, speaking in his soft, reserved French again.

Worried, Tristan spoke over him. “Ash. Ash? What is he saying?”

She cut off Sebastian’s smooth speech with her own harsh, angry words. The fae frowned hard and took a step back. Her hand, finger pointed at Sebastian, shot through the bars. “And that is what will happen to you before I allow you to parish,” she growled.

Tristan raised his eye brows, blinked once, twice and then grinned. She just threatened Sebastian on Tristan’s behalf. It made him happy to know that she still cared enough to threaten bodily harm for his sake.

Feeling stupidly confident, Tristan barked, “Hey, elf.” The fae snarled, baring those blocky, human teeth. “You’d better watch your elfy ass, she’ll do it too.”

Sebastian curled his lip back and let loose with a string of curses. Some were in French, some in English, others in a language Tristan had never heard before. But all of them made Tristan grin, knowing he hit a very raw nerve. The fae’s face started to flush bright red. Not the blush he had worked up when he was pretending to be oh-so-modest in the hotel, but true anger. Still cursing like a drunken sailor, Sebastian spun on his fancy patent leather shoe heels and stormed down the hall to the right, the direction of the exit.

Tristan reached a hand outside of the bars and waved to the fuming man’s back. “Bye, bye,” he said in a mocking voice.

Something solid and heavy slammed. The sound echoed through the whole subterranean room.

Tristan let out a long groan, lowering himself to the ground, suddenly exhausted. The effects of the drug were still in his system and the loud noise didn’t help. “Hey, Ash?” he whispered.

“Here,” she said sounding as if she were forcing herself to speak. “I am here.”

He sighed, shutting his eyes. His head spun worse, but his eyes felt better. He gave a little moan against the vertigo and then said, “Thank you.”

“What?” Her voice was high and full of surprise. “For what?”

“For defending me.”

“You did not understand a word of that,” she answered sounding a bit surer.

He chuckled softly and then sighed as the spinning started to settle. “I still got the gist. Thank you.”

“I—it was nothing, Tristan. Really.”

He smiled, knowing better and sat silent for a minute. “Can I ask you something?”

Ash was nearing her limit. She was terrified to let the sun take her as much as she wanted to give into it just to have a reprise from the pain it wrought on her cognizance. “Yes?”

“What about your powers? Can you use your earth power to get us out?” They were surrounded by earth.

She sighed, turning her back against the wall separating them so that
they both felt each other’s presence. “
Seikonō
.”

He opened his eyes, though there was nothing worth looking at. “What?”

“Our powers, as you call them... we call that manifestation of our spirit
motonō
for base abilities like telepathy and glamour, and seikonō for the more powerful elemental gifts.”