Dying To Be Heard (Book 1): Outcry (13 page)

Camden leaned forward to look at her face. "Are you ok?"

Pulled from her thoughts, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and pushed away from the counter. "Yeah, I'm fine." She crossed her arms over her chest and made it a point not to look him in the eyes as she turned for the door. "I'm tired. I think I'm going to lay down." She left him standing there against the counter and disappeared around the corner.

Chapter 10

Camden sat at a large wooden desk in his study, just off the parlor of the main floor. He looked up at the clock on the wall. It certainly didn't feel like two AM.

Leaning back in his chair, he took a sip of the deep red liquid in his coffee mug and stared down at the manila folder and photos splayed across the desk. He just couldn't figure it out. Every time he thought he was getting close to a breakthrough, it suddenly turned into a dead end. That is, when he could get his mind to focus on something other than the woman upstairs.

He couldn't explain it. He'd only actually met her just days before, but the attraction to her was so strong, it felt as though he'd known her his whole life. It wasn’t the normal physical attraction that he'd had with so many other women on countless occasions throughout his four-hundred-some-odd years. This was much deeper than that.

He believed that Martin Slade was partly to blame. From the day they'd met, Martin had told him story after story about Rayne's childhood antics, up until the point that she became sick. It started off as him listening just out of courtesy for the heartbroken old man, but it quickly turned into something else. He’d actually found himself laughing along and even longing for the memories of Rayne painting herself with a stick of deodorant and then telling him she smelled so beautiful, or the time that she used permanent markers to "apply makeup" to Martin while he slept.

There were many others he could recall just from the top of his head, and it felt as though he had experienced them himself, right alongside her grandfather. Even the recollections of her sickness had pulled at his heartstrings and made him hurt for the young girl. He'd never met her, but the girl had a special place in his thoughts from day one.

After years of hearing about her almost constantly, he finally got the chance to see her for himself. She was in her preteens, ten, maybe eleven, and Martin had grown increasingly concerned for his only family, having been away from them for nearly five years. To ease his mind, he'd asked Camden to fly across the country and observe them from afar, and he did. When he arrived, he found the happy girl that he'd heard so much about, and the two of them seemed genuinely content.

A few years after that, it was time for another check-in, and Camden had been somewhat upset that he wasn't able to go. He almost yearned to see the young woman that she was growing into, but some things, he could not change.

So when the opportunity came a few weeks ago, he'd jumped at it. When he arrived in Washington, that happy young girl from years ago was no longer there. In her place was a beautiful, full-grown woman with a sensuality about her that was hard to resist. She was smart, independent, stubborn, and strong. He could tell just from his observations that she had taken her hardship and turned it into strength. He'd only watched her from afar, but he was enticed.

Nothing compared to the moment when he finally met her face-to-face and spoke to her. It had been the first time he'd actually had butterflies in his stomach in nearly two hundred years. He never imagined that being this physically close to her could take such a toll on his emotions.

Camden sat forward in his chair, took another sip from his cup, and then ran his hands through his messy hair for the thousandth time since he'd sat down. He had to get her off his mind so he could concentrate on more important things.

He shuffled the papers in front of him around and picked up a photo to get a better look. It was a still shot from the security camera at the hotel. The tall, muscular vampire with the blonde buzz cut that had waltzed his way into Rayne's room from the small balcony was not familiar to him, which led him to believe that the intruder himself was not of any real significance to his species. But that didn’t mean he didn't work for someone who was.

Riffling through the documents again, he pulled out another picture, this one from his own security footage. The image was very grainy and hard to decipher any distinguishable features, but the body’s build was similar.

He dropped the photos and sat back in his chair. At this point, it could be anyone from any number of groups out there that would kill to get their hands on a formula like this one. Several particularly nasty ones from the Russian region came to mind.

A knock at the door startled him, pulling him from deep contemplation. “Yeah,” he said loudly, without looking up.

The door opened just enough for Connor to insert his large, bald head.

“Come in.” Camden leaned back into his cushiony desk chair and folded his hands in his lap.

“Any news?” Connor’s deep voice asked.

Without asking, he already knew what the big man was referring to. “I spoke with Paul earlier. He’ll be ok. Just a little shaken up,” he said with a sigh.

Connor entered the room and took a seat in the chair opposite his desk. “It’s still hard to believe. I would’ve never guessed that Martin would have done something like this.”

Camden nodded. He’d seen it plain as day on the security camera and still couldn’t believe it for himself. It left a bad feeling lurking around in his stomach, and he couldn’t shake it. He kept waiting for someone to pop out with a camera and admit that it was just some horrible joke. “Neither would I. But I watched it all on the security camera, and it went down just as Paul said it did,” he finally said. “I don’t think anyone thought Martin capable of killing himself.”

“I can’t figure out how he knew something was going to happen,” the dark-skinned vampire said, shaking his head.

Camden shrugged. “I don’t know. Paul said that he came downstairs looking very pale and sweating profusely, said he didn’t feel well, and needed some fresh air. Paul offered him blood to kick whatever he was coming down with in the butt, but he refused.”

He leaned forward and propped his elbows on top of the desk. “The next thing he knew, Martin was headed toward the gate. The sun was out, so Paul had to grab some treated blood first, and got to him as fast as he could. By the time he did, Martin was on the other side and had slit his own wrists.”

Conner shook his head. He’d already heard the story, but hearing it again didn’t make it any more believable.

Camden furrowed his brows in deep thought and continued. “He said it was weird, though. Martin was just watching his own blood pour out, as if he were trying to drain himself.”

Connor winced.

“When he saw Paul coming, he cut his own throat and fell dead.”

“And that’s when he saw the other vampire?” Connor asked.

Camden nodded. “Just for a second before he ran off into the trees. He wanted to chase him, but he knew he had to contact us and take care of Martin.”

There was a short pause before Connor broke the silence. “See, that’s where it gets really confusing. This whole mess is supposed to be about them getting the formula for whatever reason. If that was a vamp, then he had to be using treated blood, too. What the hell is all this about, then? Why did they want Martin so bad, and now the girl?”

Camden exhaled forcefully. “And why did he feel the need to go outside of the gates to kill himself? There must have been something that he wanted to prove. But what?”

Connor shrugged yet again.

“I wish I knew,” Camden said quietly, and ran his hands through his hair. There had to be a reason. Someone wanted them both for something; otherwise, none of this would be happening.

“What about the girl?” Connor asked, breaking his chain of thought.

He shook his head. “She doesn’t know what happened, only that it did.” He gave a stern look to Connor. “And that’s how it’s going to stay. She doesn’t need to know the rest.”

Connor nodded and stood, his large frame towering over the desk. “That’s probably best. She has enough on her plate.” He turned for the door, slipping through the crack just as he had entered.

Camden returned his attention to the mess of files on the desk, but could only manage to stare blankly. Every way he looked at the situation, things just got more and more confusing.

What was Martin doing? What did he know, and how? What am I missing?

He downed the rest of his drink, staring at the bottom of his empty cup. They only had a few portions of treated blood left between the three of them. Really, just two. Paul very rarely went out in the day unless he absolutely had no choice. He always said he didn’t trust it.

What was left would be used for emergencies only, at least until they could get this all figured out.

His bony fingers dug into the wood of the chair, claw-like nails easily leaving deep divots, and his nostrils flared with each furious breath. “You’d better be bringing me good news, Christophe, or I’ll be using your head to fuel my fire.” His angry red eyes never left the flickering flames that danced inside the massive, ornate fireplace.

This was his dungeon of solitude, the one place where he was not bothered constantly by the stupidity and ignorance of others. However, it seemed it was becoming more and more frequent as of late, with the girl so very close. He doubted she knew anything of what they wanted, but it would be enjoyable to watch her squirm as she tried to figure it out.

“Sire, it’s Matius.” Christophe said, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. His thin frame stood motionless in the darkness, hands clasped behind his back in a pose that was meant to show respect to his master. “He’s been killed, sir,” he continued.

There was a moment of silence that dragged on for what seemed like hours, and Christophe could feel his anxiousness growing. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, eyes trained on the back of the wooden chair.

In less time than it took for him to blink, the ancient vampire was on his feet grabbing the chair, and effortlessly flung it across the room. It hit the wall and splintered into a million pieces before crashing to the floor.

He suddenly was standing inches from Christophe, towering over the young, blonde-haired vampire. His rotting breath pelted his face as he huffed. But he refused to move. Standing his ground, he could feel the fear gurgling in his gut and rise into his throat like bile.

The master seemed to calm a bit as he glared down. “And the girl?”

Christophe took a deep breath. “They still have her.”

His thin lips pulled back into a fierce snarl and disgust laced the hiss he released as he spun away and came to a stop beside the remaining chair.

“If I do not have her soon, I will make sure that every last one of you dies as slowly and painfully as possible. There will be no evidence that you ever existed,” he said calmly, looking down his crooked nose at the glowing embers. “Do I make myself clear?”

The young vampire gave a silent nod and quickly backed out of the room. He wasn’t too keen on staying in the presence of such hatred for longer than was necessary.

Rayne lay in her bed, tossing and turning with each change of the numbers on the clock. Try as she might, there was far too much going on inside her head for sleep to come easily.

Within the last day, her life had been all but turned upside down. Everything she’d ever thought she’d known had been ripped apart in a matter of hours. Vampires were supposed to be myths, legends of creatures that haunted the night. There never was supposed to be any truth behind the stories.
I wonder what else is true…werewolves? Aliens? The abominable snowman?

She was actually afraid to ask. Just the knowledge of one mythical species had changed her life. She couldn’t imagine if she found out the rest were true as well. Rolling over, she stared at the blue glowing numbers on the digital clock and was reminded of the intense blue of Camden’s eyes.

And there’s another mystery in itself.
Who was he? Where had he come from? Was everything he spoke of true?

She was having difficulty believing that the person she’d followed across the country could be the violent predator from every child’s nightmares. He was considerate at times, sarcastic at others, but never mean nor hateful, not toward her, at least.

Only having known him for such a short period of time, she felt oddly at ease and secure with him. She couldn’t explain why, maybe it was just his general demeanor and the way he treated her. He seemed like a lifelong friend and someone she could very easily grow attached to, more than just a random acquaintance.

Rayne tried not to dwell on the thought for too long. Things were growing wilder by the second, and she would need to get at least a few hours of sleep if she was going to keep up.

Huffing out her frustration, she closed her eyes and willed herself to drift into a deep sleep. So deep, she didn’t stir even the slightest bit when the door knob turned and Camden slowly crept inside.

He inched toward the bed and stood staring down at the large, unmoving lump with nothing but a head protruding from the comforter. Auburn hair splayed across her creamy skin in loose strands, and he couldn’t take his eyes away from her full lips, the same lips he kissed the day before. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he’d enjoyed the spur-of-the-moment diversion a surprising amount.

Much more than I should have.

His large hand reached down and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was odd, but he actually imagined her grandfather had done the same thing a million times when she was just a child.

Camden jerked away and scrubbed his hands over his face. Why couldn’t he get a handle on himself? Why was he allowing this girl to affect him this way?

He’d been with countless other women in his lifetime, more than he would like to admit. Dated, slept with, you name it, and he’d done it. But none of them had ever made him feel this way. He didn’t like it. He couldn’t control it, and it bothered him.