Blood Hunt (36 page)

Anger was gathering inside him, threatening a storm. “I wish you were. I never would have been drawn to you, never would have lain with you.”

She let out a scoffing bite of laughter. “You’re even colder than I thought. Here I was, all moon-eyed, thinking I was falling in love with you. I had no idea of the man you really were.”

“That’s because I’m not a man. You’d do well to remember that.”

“That’s it. I’m out of here.” She stormed off, but her anger supported her only so far. Her knees gave out and she started to crumple to the ground.

Logan caught her and pulled her against his body, hating the immediate reaction she caused. He’d had her only moments ago and yet he was already aching to slide inside her again. He could smell the scent of their bodies mingling, becoming something darker and more intoxicating. The muskiness of his seed was deep within her, and any Sanguinar or Slayer who met her would know in an instant that she was his.

Not that she wanted to have anything to do with him. The way she was twisting the truth about made it seem ugly and sinister. Project Lullaby was nothing like that. It was necessary.

He needed her to see that. To know it. She didn’t understand the kind of suffering they endured, because if she had, she wouldn’t have been so quick to judge him. They didn’t kill people. They worked themselves sick ensuring that their subjects were happy and healthy.

The scales were even. And soon, she would know it, too.

Chapter 24

L
ogan’s hold on Hope tightened and he pressed his hand to her temple. She could feel his anger vibrating through his body, but that was just too bad. She didn’t have time for him or any of his tricks.

She tried to pull away but his grip was too tight. She willed one of those surges of adrenaline-induced strength to fill her, but nothing came. A second later, all thoughts of struggling evaporated.

A strong, solid presence filled her, and she recognized it easily. Logan.

Normally, she felt a gentleness surround him, but not now. His presence was draped with purpose, like a man on a mission.

“Feel,” he ordered.

And she did. She was swept up in a wave of memories and sensations unlike anything she’d ever felt before. There was hunger. Mountains of it. So much that it ate away at her sanity, making her cry out in agony. Her belly churned and nothing could fill it but ancient, powerful blood.

But there was none to be had. A hopeless desperation descended on her, driving strength from her limbs and the will to live from her soul. She was so hungry and yet there was no more food. There would never again be more food. She was going to die here, now, and it couldn’t come soon enough.

Hope pleaded for death to take her, to end the relentless gnawing in her guts and the weakness that robbed her of the ability to do more than sit and stare, helpless and useless, while people around her died.

She couldn’t go on like this. What was the point of living if all that life had to offer was hunger and weakness and death?

And then she felt it, a faint stirring of hope, a dim light gleaming on the horizon of her suffering.

Blood. Rich, powerful blood. She could make it, grow it. It would take time. Centuries, perhaps, but for the first time in memory, there was a chance.

Hope reached for that chance, grabbing onto it with both hands. It slipped through her fingers, intangible and insubstantial. It flitted in her vision, teasing her as it darted around, never fully in sight.

But she could have it. She could have that blood. All she had to do was one little thing: Create families.

It didn’t sound so bad. Surely, she could find people who would love each other, people who belonged together, who would be happy together. The search would be hard, but the reward would be survival. She would hold each new life in her arms and cherish it for the blessing it was. It would never go hungry. It would never die of disease or sickness. She would be there, right by its side, seeing to its needs.

She had plenty of money, so that was no issue. None of her children would live in poverty or squalor. She’d see to it that they got a good education and made a place for themselves in the world so that when the time came, they, too, could help create a new and precious life.

And while she knew she’d have to take their blood to survive, she’d be careful about it. She’d screen them for disease and heal any injuries she found. She’d imbue them with long lives so their cells would not age and die as a normal human’s would. She’d do everything in her power to see them happy.

All she needed in return was the power to help them—the power only their blood could give her. It didn’t seem too high a price to ask. After all, if she didn’t do this, the dark things in the night would find them and eat them. If she wasn’t strong, she couldn’t keep them safe, and she desperately wanted to keep them safe.

As the idea sank in, she turned it around, looking at it from all sides. It didn’t seem nearly so terrible as it had before. The faces of dozens of people filled her head—all of them had been touched by the Sanguinar. They’d been paired up; they’d been fed on. None of them seemed to show any signs of abuse or neglect. They were . . . happy with the arrangement.

Who was she to say they weren’t?

Hope felt Logan’s presence release her, and with a little pang of regret, she let him go. The images he’d shown her were still a part of her, as was the memory of that hunger. If he’d endured that kind of torture, it was no wonder he’d been desperate to find any means necessary to escape it.

But what if all that mental hocus pocus was just a lie? What if he’d planted it to sway her opinion? “I want to talk to them,” she said.

“Talk to whom?”

“The people you’ve manipulated.”

He flinched at her wording, but she didn’t back down. She couldn’t. If she let up even a little, she knew he’d find a way to break through her defenses.

“The couple who was attacked the night we met. They were paired by me. Will that suffice?”

She nodded, remembering how concerned the man had been for his wife. She’d had no idea they were some of Logan’s “subjects.”

He pulled out his phone and dialed. “Steve, are you all well?” He listened for a moment. “Good, that’s good.” His eyes met Hope’s. “I was wondering if you had a moment to speak to someone for me. Just answer her questions with the truth, please.” He paused. “No, your vow of secrecy does not apply to Hope. You may speak freely.”

Logan handed her the phone. She put it to her ear, half expecting a trick. “Steve?”

“What can I do for you?”

She didn’t dare blurt out her real question, which was whether he knew he’d been manipulated. “How did you and your wife meet?”

“Uh. Logan set us up.”

“Can you be more specific?”

He hesitated. “My sister was dying. Car accident. Her brain was swelling and she was in a coma. Logan came into her room and said he’d help in exchange for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“He wanted me to meet Pam, though I didn’t know her name at the time.”

“Did you find that odd?” she asked.

“Yeah, but I was kinda out of my head with worry. Nothing made any sense at the time. She was my kid sister. My responsibility. Mom and Dad were gone and I was the only one left to take care of her, but there was nothing I could do.”

“So you agreed?”

“Yeah. I was desperate. I thought it was worth a shot—a hell of a lot better than watching my sister die.” He pulled in a deep breath. “So I agreed. It was the first night Logan took my . . . you know.”

“Blood?”

“Yeah. He took my sister’s, too. Whatever he did after that must have worked. The swelling went away. She woke up. She’s a medical student now.”

“And Pam? What happened when you met her?”

She could hear a smile creep into his voice and a distant quality filled it, like her presence on the line was suddenly unimportant. “She was my other half. A part of my soul I hadn’t realized I lost.”

A sense of jealousy filled Hope, but she ignored it. No sense in being jealous over something artificial. “How long have you been together?”

“Five years. Married three.”

“And you have a baby on the way?”

“Yeah. A son.”

“Did Logan order you to have children?”

“What?” The way he squawked the word made it sound like her question was ridiculous. “Of course not. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Didn’t he tell you that’s why he put you together? So you could have babies and he could drink their blood, too.”

“Listen, lady. I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but Logan’s not like that. He’s a good man. He’s nearly killed himself helping me twice now. I owe him everything, and I know without a doubt that when my son is here, Logan would do the same for him.”

“But what about the blood?”

“What about it? It’s no big deal. Doesn’t even hurt.”

“Are you going to let him have your son’s blood?”

“The minute he’s old enough to handle it, you bet your ass I will. None of us have been sick a single day since we met Logan, and the one time I fell and broke my leg, he came right over and patched me up so I wouldn’t miss any work. Sure, the whole magical thing is a little far-fetched, but as far as I’m concerned, I don’t know how a CAT scan works, either. It’s all a mystery to me. Logan just happens to be better, faster, and a hell of a lot cheaper. I don’t care what anyone says. He’s a fucking superhero.”

What could she say to that? Either Steve was being completely honest with her and he truly didn’t mind the arrangement, or he was so brainwashed he didn’t even know the truth.

Hope knew which one she thought was more likely. The man had been way too smooth to be reciting things he’d been force fed.

Which meant she had a lot to think about. She didn’t like Logan’s tactics, but that didn’t mean everyone hated them. Steve certainly had benefitted from Logan’s interference in his life.

And she remembered how bright Steve’s love for his wife had shone in his aura. That was not something that could be faked. His love was real. He was connected to his wife in a way Hope could only dream about.

But she didn’t dream about it with this Eric guy. She’d lied about falling in love with Logan. She wasn’t falling. She’d fallen. Past tense. She’d thought that his manipulative ways would have kept it from happening, but they hadn’t. If anything, the things he’d done to others had only cemented her feelings.

Not only did Logan have to fight for every drop of blood, he also had to take care of every life he touched. On top of that, there were people like her whose mistrust probably didn’t make his efforts any easier.

She opened her mouth to apologize when Nicholas burst out the front door, his face grim. “You need to come inside. We have a situation.”

Logan tensed beside her and took a protective step closer, scanning their surroundings.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m so sorry, Hope,” said Nicholas. “The shelter and your studio. They’re both on fire.”

 

Hope stared in horror at the TV screen. One side showed an image of her studio. Firefighters blasted it with thick jets of water, but it seemed to be doing little good. On the other side of the screen was the homeless shelter where a reporter stood out front.

The reporter’s words slid past her, not sinking in. All she saw were the flames rising up in the background as the fire crews worked to control the blaze. Huge plumes of black smoke billowed from the barred windows.

She scanned the surrounding crowd as the camera panned across the scene. She searched for a glimpse of Sister Olive or any of the regulars who visited. There was a growing group of people outside gawking, but she recognized none of them.

Fear weighed down on her, making it hard to breathe.

Logan’s arm slid around her shoulders. She huddled against his side, waiting for someone to tell her this was all a mistake. “Where are the people who were inside?”

Nicholas sent Logan a meaningful look—one she didn’t understand.

“What?” she asked.

Sympathy filled Nicholas’s gaze. “They don’t know about your studio, but the reporter said the fire at the shelter was obviously arson. The doors were barricaded from the outside.”

The significance of what he said sank in, freezing Hope from the inside out.

It was cold tonight. The shelter would have been full. All those people had been trapped inside. Along with Sister Olive.

Grief choked her. Her knees gave out. Logan’s strong arm held her up, supporting her.

She struggled to regain her balance. She needed to be strong right now and figure out what had happened. She needed to go back and find out how many people had escaped—broken the bars on the windows. Surely some of them had found a way out.

Maybe even Sister Olive.

“I need to leave,” she announced, her voice sounding weak and hollow.

“You can’t,” said Logan. “That fire was set purposefully. We know a powerful Synestryn wants you. And while I tried to plant false memories in that Dorjan’s head, it may have failed. They attacked your home as well as the shelter. I think it’s more than possible that fire was meant to either kill you or force you to come out of hiding.”

His words took longer than normal to sink in. “You’re saying you won’t take me back?”

“No. I won’t.”

“Neither will I,” said Nicholas. “I’m sorry for your loss, but our priority now has to be your safety.”

Hope pulled away from Logan’s hold and sank to the couch. Her knees were still weak. Her body was shaking. Ice coated her insides, numbing her from the pain she knew would hit at any moment.

She had to hold it together long enough to find out if Sister Olive was still alive. The woman had been like a mother to her. Hope couldn’t simply sit around and wait to find out if she was still alive.