Demon's Kiss (9 page)

“He already told me that,” Seth said. “Well, more or less.”

“Did he tell you what he did for them?”

Seth nodded. “He was…an assassin.”

“A
n…
assassin?
”

Roxy and Seth both turned to see Topaz standing in the doorway, staring at them, and then at Reaper, in blatant disbelief. “That doesn't make sense, Seth. That's not him.” She shook her head. “Okay, okay, maybe I've only known him for a day—but we spent hours and hours in that van. He may have a mean streak, but he would never go after you like that.”

“I know,” Seth agreed. “That…I don't know what the hell that was, but it wasn't him.”

Roxy thinned her lips. “It was never him. But he was recruited young, trained and systematically programmed.”

“Programmed,” Seth repeated idiotically.

“As in brainwashed,” Topaz said. “Am I right, Roxy?”

Roxy nodded, her eyes sad. “That rage you just witnessed—we're pretty sure there's a word, or maybe a phrase, that triggers it. And if there is, then there's another one that stops it. But we don't know what those trigger words are.”

Seth frowned down at his unconscious friend, then hunkered low and scooped Reaper's oversized carcass up off the carpet. “So this has happened before, then?” he asked, moving toward the sofa, where he deposited the man.

“Yes. I've seen it happen three times now.”

“And you don't remember any particular thing being said about the time he freaked out on you?” Topaz asked, her tone bordering on disbelief.

Roxy lifted her brows, annoyed at what had sounded like an accusation. “Do
you
remember any particular thing that was said just before it happened this time?”

Topaz frowned, searching her memory. “I…no. There were hundreds of things. We were all talking, and Seth was flipping channels on the damned TV.”

“Exactly. That's the way it always is.” Roxy sighed, and took a blanket from the back of a nearby chair, carried it to the sofa and laid it over Reaper. “It must not be a common word or phrase. This really is a rare thing. It's been a decade since he left the agency and was changed over.”

“And in all those years, it's only happened three times?” Seth asked.

“I said I'd only
seen
it happen three times.”

Which wasn't, Seth realized, an answer. “He ever hurt anybody?”

Roxy met his eyes, nodded once, said nothing.

“He ever…
kill
anybody?”

“It was his job to kill people,” Roxy said.

“I meant after he left the job. During one of these…episodes.”

Roxy straightened the blanket over Reaper, though it was already straight enough. Stalling, or maybe deciding whether or not to reply.

The silence got longer, tenser, and it was Topaz who broke it, with a whisper. “Why do you think he always works alone?”

Seth shook his head. “Could be a hundred reasons. You don't know it's—”

“I think that's enough with the speculation. Neither of you knows shit, and guessing is a waste of time. I told you what I did for your own protection. You want to know more, you're just gonna have to ask Raphael when he wakes up.”

Seth bit his lip to keep from asking still more questions about Reaper's past and condition. Instead, he said, “When do you think that will be?” he asked.

“Couple of hours. And it's nearly dawn now, so he's out for the day. By sundown he'll be fine.” She looked around the room. “He can sleep right where he is,” she said. “I can draw those heavy shades. They must have them in place for optimal viewing of their fancy-schmancy projection TV. Lucky for us. You two may as well go find yourselves a place to rest.”

“You're staying in today, right, Roxy?” Seth asked.

“Well, I might make a run for some supplies, take a look around town. I'll be safe, it being daytime and all.” She sent Seth a wink. “Besides, I have to admit I like the idea of taking that Shelby for a spin.”

“Don't scratch her.”

“I'd sooner scratch the Mona Lisa, Seth.”

“God, the way you people go on,” Topaz muttered. “It's a car. And it's not even a Mercedes or a Porsche or a Ferrari.” She took Seth by the arm. “Come on, I'll help you pick a room.”

He looked at her, utterly baffled.

She made a face, rolled her eyes. “Well, you haven't been at this very long. I don't want the scent of toasted fledgling all over the house when I wake up.”

“Who do you think you're kidding?” he asked. “You like me.”

“Dream on. I just don't want to deal with Reaper waking up hungover
and
pissed off at me for letting his rookie recruit charbroil himself.”

“You like me, Tope.”

“Screw you. And stop calling me ‘Tope.'”

“By the way,” he said, “I'm gonna need my Noisy Cricket back. You can ask Roxy for another.”

 

Sundown.

Vixen rose and stretched, after sleeping all day long, which was what she did every day since they'd changed her over. But the nights were worse. At least when she was asleep she was unaware of time passing. It went quickly, painlessly. Oh, but at night…All she could do was pace the cell in which they kept her. Pace, back and forth, this way and that way. Eight steps from one side of her cage to the other. Only six from front to rear.

It was maddening. She needed room. She needed to run, to jump and play. She needed sunlight and meadows and field mice to chase. She needed
freedom.
It had been days since they'd taken her outside.

“Good, you're up.”

Vixen wasn't surprised by the female voice. She'd sensed Briar's approach long before the young female had flung open the noisy basement door and stepped inside. She was wary, though, never allowing herself to forget how much Briar liked to inflict pain. Vixen thought maybe it made her more at ease with her own inner wounds.

“Yes, I'm up.”

“Gregor says I have to take you out for some exercise. But I'm telling you right now, if you try to get away from me, I'll make you hurt in ways you can't even imagine. Understand?”

“Yes. And I believe you.” But Vixen knew she would try anyway. It wasn't in her not to try. Her freedom was too precious a thing to give away so easily.

“Great. Here, come up close to the bars.”

Vixen eyed what Briar held in her hands. A leather collar with a metal loop through it, and a chain attached. It was the sort of thing she'd seen dogs wear, while being led about by their human owners. She blinked, and moved no closer. “I'm not a dog.”

“No shit. But you can wear the collar and leash like one, or you can sit on your ass in your cage for the whole night again. Your choice.”

She wanted to rage at Briar, to lash out with claws and teeth, to draw blood, but it would do no good. Instead, she subdued the urge and moved closer to the bars.

“Turn around, press your back right up tight—that's it.” Briar reached inside, and with rapid, heartless movements, she buckled the collar around Vixen's neck, yanking it tight. Too tight.

Vixen tugged on it with her fingers, but it didn't help. “Please, loosen it,” she asked.

“No.” Briar opened the cage door. “You can breathe, that's all that matters. The tighter it fits, the quicker you'll come to heel when I jerk on your leash. Oh, and this baby has added benefits, too. See this?”

Briar held up a tiny device, black, plastic, with a button on it. As she did, she smiled slowly. “Wanna see what it does?”

Vixen shook her head slowly from left to right.

“Oh, come on. I'm dying to. Aren't you even curious?”

“No. I'll be good, I promise.”

Briar sighed and dropped the device back into her pocket. “I hope you try to get away at least once. I really want to see how the shock collar works on you.” She shrugged. “Then again, I suppose I don't have to wait for you to try to get away, do I? I can jolt you any time I want. As often as I want. Can't I, Vixen?”

Vixen lowered her head. “You could. But then what would be my incentive not to try to get away? If you're going to hurt me either way…?”

“Hmm. You're intelligent, for an animal. Just be aware, it has sensors. If you try to take it off or shift without permission, it'll jolt you hard enough to kill you. Come on.” Briar swung open the cage door, snapped the chain to the collar and led the way across the basement. They went up two stairs, to the large, loud door. It was steel, and it creaked and groaned as it opened, banged and clanged when it closed. Vixen had come to hate that door. But once through it, they went up another set of stairs, then through a door at the top that opened to the night.

Vixen stood there for a moment, just breathing in the fresh, clean air. She smelled a thousand scents, far more even than she would have as a fox. And she could hear everything, as well, every bird, every insect, every animal skittering through the fields and forests that surrounded this place. She could identify all of them by their sounds and their scents.

“We'll walk out across that field and back. All right?”

Vixen turned to Briar, and she knew her eyes were wide and pleading, but she didn't care. “Can we run?”

Briar narrowed her eyes at Vixen, then looked out across the field. “You see that gnarled tree at the far end?”

“The apple tree? Yes.”

“If you go one step beyond that tree, I'll use this remote to shock you. It sends a bolt of electricity out of that collar and straight into your neck. Do you understand that?”

“It would hurt,” Vixen said.

“It would put you down on the ground, it would hurt so much.”

“I won't go past the apple tree,” Vixen said. Then she looked to the right of the tree and said, “Or any farther east than…”

“The boulder, sitting there. See it?”

“The boulder,” Vixen said with a nod.

“Okay. Go ahead. Run till you drop for all I care.” Briar unsnapped the leash and took a seat on a fallen log and nodded. “Go on, would you?”

It occurred to Vixen that she could shift forms, slip the collar and escape. But, no. The change would take too long. Briar would see her, then shock her.

Vixen was afraid Briar would use the device in her pocket just to amuse herself, but maybe not. At least she could run. She took off then, racing into the field, shocked at how fast she could move now. The cool lush grass felt good on her bare feet, and the air rushing past her face had never smelled as sweet. She neared the apple tree and came to a halt, then turned three cartwheels, before racing off to the east, all the way to the boulder.

When Briar didn't send any bolts of pain shooting into her, she began to relax a little more, and even caught herself smiling as she played in the meadow underneath the stars.

Once, she looked back, and thought she saw her captor smiling as she watched. But Briar quickly turned her head away.

Vixen frowned, sniffing the air, puzzled by the lack of evil she had felt just then. Usually it was the only thing she could sense coming from the black-hearted female. But just now she'd caught the faintest trace of what felt like…a tear.

 

Seth heard female laughter and wondered just what the hell Topaz thought was so damn funny. But when he shot her a look, she was straight-faced. Not even smiling.

“Look, all I have to do is pretend I'm in trouble,” Roxy insisted. “I'm a good actress. I can project fear enough to have any vamp in the vicinity pick up on it. I know I can. Then they'll come to help me out, and I'll pick their brains about the rogue band—subtly, of course—and—”

“And if they
are
a part of the rogue band?” Reaper asked.

“You guys can follow them after they leave me.”

“Right,” Seth said. “Right after they rip out your throat.” Laughter again.

He glared at Topaz. “Something funny over there you'd like to share with the rest of us?”

“Nothing funny about it. Vampires can't hurt the Chosen, Seth. Everyone knows that. It's just gossip that this gang does that. I don't believe it's possible. Vamps
never
hurt the Chosen.”

“Yeah? And the Chosen never live beyond their thirties. Everyone knows that, too,” he said, with a nod toward Roxy.

“Are you implying that I look as if I'm beyond my thirties?” Roxy stared at him with wide eyes full of mock indignation.

“I'm just saying—” He broke off. That laugh again. Sweet, soft, childlike. He looked around the room and saw that it wasn't coming from Topaz. Or from Roxy, either.

“Seth is right,” Reaper said. “Roxy, we cannot let you risk your life to locate them.”

“Does anyone else hear that?” Seth asked.