Demon's Kiss (10 page)

“Hear what?” Roxy frowned at him, then seemed to listen. Everyone else followed suit.

“It sounds like someone laughing. A woman,” Seth said.

Now the others were looking at each other, speculation in their eyes.

“I've been hearing her for ten minutes now. It's like—Hell,” he muttered as realization dawned, “I think it's
her.
”

“Her, who?” Roxy asked.

He looked at her, then at Reaper. “She's one of us—or maybe one of the Chosen, I'm damned if I can tell which. I think she's in trouble.” Or he
had
thought so, the last time he'd felt her presence in his mind. The laughter he was hearing indicated something altogether different.

“If there were one of the Chosen in trouble nearby, Seth, we would all feel her need,” Reaper explained.

“I think I may be a little more…connected to her than the rest of you are.”

Reaper lifted his brows. Topaz lowered her chin, fixed her eyes on Seth and blinked rapidly, affecting an attitude of “I don't fucking believe this,” without saying a word.

Roxy moved closer to Seth and put a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever this is, it's getting to you, isn't it?” She turned to face the others. “Reaper, why not take a drive with Seth? He can steer you toward this chick, whoever she is. Maybe you'll pick up on something.”

“We need to be tracking the rogues, not chasing down every distraction we come to along the way,” Reaper said, and he sounded frustrated as hell.

“She's close. And I'm going after her,” Seth said. “Either way.”

“Where there's a Chosen one in trouble, Raphael,” Roxy said, speaking slowly and with apparently endless patience, “there are damn sure going to be vampires, as well. And if it's a vamp in trouble, well, hell, maybe she'll be grateful enough for the assist to tell us what she knows about the local rogue population. This little distraction is as likely to get you information as anything else I can think of.”

Reaper nodded, conceding the point, and Seth felt himself sigh in relief.

“Topaz and I will do some exploring in the opposite direction, see if we can find a few clues ourselves,” Roxy said.

“Be careful,” Reaper said. “Block yourselves well. You don't want them picking up on you.”

“We will, but be aware they're probably doing the same thing.” Roxy glanced at Topaz. “They know we're coming. Tried to annihilate our boys here with a semi the day before we met you.”

“You didn't tell me that,” Topaz accused Reaper, shock in her eyes.

He shrugged. “You didn't ask.”

Topaz propped her hands on her hips. “So is there anything else you've been keeping to yourself that I maybe ought to know about?”

“Nothing I can think of at the moment.” Reaper turned to Roxy. “Seth and I will go on foot. You can take the Shelby. I want you to keep that van of yours out of sight. Understood?”

“Right,” Roxy said with a wink, “like you're telling me what to do now?”

Reaper rolled his eyes and turned to Seth. “Can you home in on a direction?”

“I think so.” Seth led the way, every cell in his body tingling with anticipation. Reaper followed close on his heels.

 

Vixen felt him before she saw him. She was chasing a field mouse through the deep grass, trying to close her hands around him as he scurried this way and that, always just barely eluding her, when a feeling of eyes on her, a sense of another soul touching her, was so real and so intense that it made her come to a halt. She stopped dead and stood in the field, looking around.

And then she spotted him. He was crouching in the trees, watching her intently. When she saw him, something inside her clenched and tightened. There was another with him. Vampires, both, but the first was young, and still so very human, while the other was older, harder—and dangerous.

“Vixen, what is it?” Briar called.

Vixen quickly looked away, knowing better than to reveal the intruders' presence to that cold, cruel female. She would delight in tossing them both into a cage and torturing them.

“Nothing. Just a mouse.”

Vixen slid her eyes toward them again, willing them to go away, even making a little shooing motion with her hands. Who were they? What did they want?

One—the younger one—touched her in some intensely potent way. She felt as if she knew him. And then she realized that she did. She'd felt him—he was the one! She'd felt him just that one time, but she'd dreamed of him only this morning. Not a complicated dream, just an image. Just his face. And he looked exactly the way he had looked in her mind's eye.

He was coming to help her. He was…he was here solely for
her.

She didn't know why. And she had no idea what caused the heavy flood of warmth through her core, or the tightening of her throat or the knotting of her stomach.

But he was important. She was sure of it, even though she didn't understand it. And yet she felt on the verge of tears—and Vixen
never
wept.

“Come on,” Briar called. “You've had enough exercise for one night. Gregor will be wondering where we are, and I need to feed. Babysitting duty is over.”

“All right.” Vixen didn't dare argue, not when Briar held that device in her pocket.

“You're awfully agreeable all of a sudden,” Briar said as Vixen made her way back through the deep grasses, inhaling deeply to smell the night air as much as possible while she still could.

When she reached Briar, the dark woman snapped the leash back onto the ring on her collar and led her back to the door in the base of the mansion. She'd had her first good look at the place from outside, but could tell very little. Her door and this field were in the rear of the house, and there were trees and vines all around it. It was built of redbrick, and it was massive. Beyond that, there was little to see.

As they went inside, Vixen glanced behind her just once and was troubled when she sensed that the men were following. Fools. They were going to end up as badly off as she was herself. And they would be no help to her then.

If they even intended to help her at all. But while she couldn't be sure that was why they had come, she felt it, on a gut level. The knowledge didn't seem to be coming to her from the older vampire, but from the younger one, it practically poured out to her. A promise, unspoken, only thought, but thought with so much passion and so much will it was unmistakable.

I've come for you. I'll help you. I promise.

I know,
she thought back at him, just before the door closed.
I've been waiting for you. Just please don't make me wait too much longer.

“D
id you see her?”

Reaper nodded, trying to school his heart to a more steady rhythm. He'd seen her. The wild child, dark hair like a thundercloud around her head, eyes like black velvet, and a coldness, a hardness, an edge of cruelty, to her that surrounded her like an aura.

“I saw her.”

“The way she was running, and spinning in the field—like a little girl in love with every part of life. And did you
ever
see hair like that? My God, there's so much of it, long and thick and as shiny as copper.”

“Copper?” Reaper glanced at his charge again, then shook himself. Naturally, Seth was referring to the childlike creature who'd been dancing her way through the wildflowers, not the cruel dominatrix who'd held the girl's leash. Naturally. Only
he
would find the latter so much more captivating.

“Did you see the way the other one—the mean-looking one—snapped that leash onto her?” Seth asked, looking toward the mansion in the distance. “Red must be some kind of prisoner there.”

“Yes, it looks that way. And the dark one mentioned Gregor by name. I believe, Seth, that your instincts and your…connection to that young woman…have led us precisely where we need to be.”

Seth smiled. Beamed, actually.

“You needn't look so inordinately pleased with yourself, fledgling. It's the kind of thing vampires do.”

Seth nodded. “I'm just glad I'm getting better at it. Although, it really was
her,
Reap. Not me or my instincts.
She
drew me here. Somehow. Is she—”

“Vampire,” Reaper said, knowing Seth's question before he asked it. “You could sense that for yourself, couldn't you?”

“Well, yeah. But…” Seth hesitated.

Reaper pushed. “Go on, tell me. What else?”

Pursing his lips in thought, Seth nodded, his decision made, and went on. “I could tell she wasn't one of the Chosen—not anymore. She's a vampire. A really young one, too.”

“And?”

“And there's something else. Something…off. Different. But I can't tell what it is.” He looked at Reaper, as if awaiting the answer.

Reaper nodded. “That's what I sensed, too. But like you, Seth, I don't know what it is. There's something more to her than vampire. That much I know.”

“Way more,” Seth said. His voice had softened, and Reaper saw the look in his eyes as he stared toward the mansion and the last spot the redhead had been. Reaper had seen the look before, and he pitied the kid. But he didn't suppose all the sage advice in the world would change it.

“What do we do now?” Seth asked. “We have to get inside.”

“Let's wait just a bit longer, and watch,” Reaper said. “The dark one mentioned wanting to feed. So I believe they'll go out soon, unless they keep a supply of victims in the mansion itself. And I can't sense any.” Then he frowned. “It's odd, I can't sense anything at all coming from inside those walls. They must be extremely adept at blocking.”

Seth swallowed hard. “They kill when they feed, don't they?”

“That's why they're called rogues, Seth.”

“We have to stop them.”

Even as he said it, a group of vampires emerged from the front of the building. They couldn't be seen from where Seth and Reaper were, but they could be felt. Reaper closed his eyes and focused. There were several. The dark one was among them. The redhead was not.

“Did you feel that, Seth?”

“Yeah. You were right, a bunch of them are leaving. But she's not with them. And I know you want to go after the gang, Reap, but I can't leave her here.”

Reaper studied him for a long moment. “Seth, it's important that you not confuse the power of the bond you feel with this woman for something else. Something more. It's difficult to separate the two, especially for a vampire as young as you are. But there
is
a difference.”

“I'm gonna keep that in mind, Reap.”

Reaper sighed, nodded—resigned, he supposed. Seth was a man, and a heroic one, at that. He had to do what he felt compelled to do, and Reaper had no business trying to talk him out of it. And the cocky fledgling would be inside that mansion before this night was out, no matter what Reaper might say or do to try to prevent it. So there was no point in trying.

“All right, then,” he said at length. “We'll split up. You stay here, try to scan this place, and if you feel you can get inside to speak to the girl, do it. But, Seth, please, don't go in there if you're at risk of being caught. You wouldn't be risking just your own life, but my entire mission. Do you understand?”

Seth nodded, but his gaze was riveted to the back door, through which the redhead had vanished.

“I'll follow the others,” Reaper went on. “See if I can keep tonight's body count to a minimum.”

“All right.”

“Be careful, Seth.”

Seth nodded, and then Reaper was gone.

 

Seth decided he didn't really need to follow Reaper's instructions to the letter. Hell, he didn't need to follow them at all, he thought. He did try to scan the place, to get a feel for how many might be inside and the nature of those who were, but he sensed nothing. It was as if no one was alive beyond those walls.

So he waited, just until he was sure Reaper was long gone, and then he slipped out of his hiding place, and went to the door he'd seen the girl go through. He tried the knob, but it was locked, just as he'd expected it to be. And yet, it wasn't
that
strong a lock. Not for a vampire.

He still got a hell of a charge out of how powerful he was now. The way he could close his hand around the doorknob, twist it until the lock popped and snapped and broke. Then he put his shoulder to the door and pushed, not even very hard, and the other locks holding it gave way. The door swung open, and Seth stepped inside, looking around—remembering to
feel
around, too—in search of enemies lurking in the shadows. And he felt them. Lots of them, countless energies, all of them seeming off, but in a far different way from the girl. The vibes he felt were dull, heavy and slow. And none of them were in the immediate vicinity.

She
was, though. Her essence called out to him, drew him, and he moved toward it almost blindly, knowing Reaper would kick his ass for being as careless as he was right now if he knew. And yet he couldn't resist the odd pull of her.

He walked down two steps, through a corridor of stone, and then he saw her. She was in a cell, a barred cell, like a cage, at the end of the passage. She was standing there, her hands on the bars, her beautiful, almost elfin face peering out between them at him, as if she had known he was coming.

And she probably had.

She was a vampire. But her energy was different from that of any of the admittedly few vampires Seth had met. Even Reaper had acknowledged that. It was wilder, brighter, more vivid and chaotic. And God, her eyes…

“I'm Vixen,” she said. “You've come here to help me, haven't you?”

“Yeah.” He could barely form the single word, much less explain the entire reason why they had come here.

“I knew you would. I've been waiting for you. I…I've felt you.” She stared straight into his eyes, not at all shy about her declaration. “I've longed for you. But why do I feel you so strongly? And why do you want to help me?” she asked.

He frowned, searching inwardly for an answer. “I don't know. But I've felt
you,
too.” He touched her hand, sliding his over one of hers where it gripped a bar. “Does it really matter?”

She stared at his hand on hers, and he thought she shivered. He knew he did. Then she bent her head, paintbrush lashes lowering over the most exotic, expressive brown almond eyes he'd ever seen. But she didn't answer.

“Why are they keeping you locked up like this?” he asked.

“I don't know.” She lifted her head, met his gaze. “They hurt me sometimes.”

Seth's muscles knotted up in pure need—the need to pound on someone. They
hurt her
sometimes? Fuck that. He looked around the place, hoping to see a key, maybe hanging like a steel cliché from a peg in the wall. Nothing. “Who has the key?”

“I don't know. Whoever comes down to torment me usually has it. Briar or Gregor or Jack, or one of those other ones. The big mean ones.”

Big mean ones, huh? He looked at her—pixie-sized at best—and wondered what kind of big mean vamps got off on hurting a woman like her. He would like to meet them. But first things first. He didn't need any keys.
Screw
keys. He spotted an ax. It would be noisy, but…

He grabbed it and started swinging at the door to her cage.

He hit it again and again, and the lock was just starting to come free when he felt their approach. Other vampires were stampeding from above, racing down to where he was standing with nothing to defend himself but an ax.

He swung again. “When the door opens, I want you to run for it,” he said. “I'll hold them off as long as I can. Look for the man I was with. Reaper. He'll help you.”

“But…you can't stay here.”

He hit the door again.

“They'll
hurt
you!” she cried.

And again. The cell door sprang open. “Go! Run!”

She lunged past him, grabbing his arm and tugging him with her. “They'll kill you. And I don't even know your name.”

They made it to a wooden door, but the others were in the cellar now, a couple dozen, at the very least—big, oversized, graceless, with dull, dead eyes, and a dense, thick energy about them. They were closing in. Vixen reached the door, yanked it open, turned back for him.

She would never make it if he went with her. Neither of them would. He had to hold these oafs off, give her a shot. He met her eyes as the vampires surged toward him from behind. “Seth,” he said. “My name's Seth.” Then he shoved her outside, closed the door and turned, raising his ax and preparing to fight.

 

The rogue gang split up once they hit the streets of Savannah. Reaper had seen Gregor, and he'd seen Jack. There were others, whose names escaped him as soon as he heard them, mainly because he didn't give a damn. He'd seen Briar and that seemed, to him, to be the most pressing matter. As little sense as that made. Gregor was his target, after all.

And yet, when they split, though he knew he ought to follow Gregor, he opted to follow
her,
instead. There was something about her that compelled him to see her, speak to her, to learn what it was that drove her. Why was she with this gang of murderers?

More importantly, why did he care?

Maybe he recognized, in her eyes, a soul very much akin to his own.

Or maybe he only wanted to.

So he followed her. Briar. The name fit her prickly, dangerous energy. She walked the streets as if she knew them, and not an ounce of fear emanated from her, no matter where she wandered. She was looking for something. Someone.

A victim.

She found one soon enough. A man—midthirties, blond, utterly ordinary—came stumbling from a bar, and turned first to the left, then to the right, his expression blank. Glimpsing something in the distance, he nodded in a self-satisfied way and groped in a pocket, hand emerging with a set of keys. He staggered along the sidewalk then, toward the car that was apparently his; a small, expensive-looking sports car. Reaper allowed himself a small smile when it occurred to him that his young protégé would probably know its make, model, year of production and engine size. Seth loved cars.

He was worried about that young man, and quickly opened his mind to listen for any signs of distress from him. But there was only dead silence.

Odd. He didn't think Seth was
that
good at blocking yet. He should have picked up
something.

The hungry vampiress got ahead of the drunken man without his even noticing her, and when he reached the car, she was leaning on the passenger door, waiting. Reaper clung to the shadows, keeping his mind and his energy blocked, so she wouldn't sense him there. He was curious, compelled to watch her, part of him hoping that she wouldn't reveal herself to be a killer like the others in her gang.

“I don't suppose you'd consider giving me a ride, would you?” she asked. The drunk man stopped, standing on the sidewalk and blinking at her as if he wasn't quite sure she was real.

“I, uh, probably shouldn't. My wife—”

“Will never know. I promise.” She let her gaze trail down his body, stopping when it was fixed on his zipper. “And I'll make it
so
worth your while.”

The man licked his lips, and looked her up and down. Reaper didn't think the guy had it in him to turn her down, which didn't say much for his marriage. Then again, she was something. Tiny but curvy. Dark and exotic. She exuded sex like a perfume. It wafted from her. Sex…and violence. Reaper didn't want to feel it, but he did. Couldn't the drunken idiot sense that part of her?