Hunter's Rise (15 page)

Her abilities far surpassed anything he’d ever be able to do, as far as the mind went— although he could seriously do without her having the ability to read
his
mind. Her gift had so many layers and complexities, it was bizarre, and he was just now starting to realize how useful she might be. No, not
could
be.
Would
be.

“You’ll be careful.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he studied her face.

Angel examined her nails. “Well, I considered just storming in there and demanding at the top of my lungs,
Who is the fucking pervert responsible?
Following up with a brutal one-on-one interrogation of every person I met, but I didn’t think that was the best way to handle this.”

Sheila snickered. Then she slid a hand down his arm, linked their fingers. That gentle touch said a thousand things.

Closing his eyes, he blew out a breath.

He was doing the right thing. More, this was the
best
way to do it.

Outside, he heard a car’s engine— too close to be anybody but the witch coming to collect Angel.

Too late to back out now.

And it wasn’t like he really had an option.

“Stay safe,” he said quietly. “And find me something.”

Angel gave him a smile. “Oh, I won’t find you
something
. I’m going to bring you back a damned gold mine. You’ll see. Just give me a few days.”

T

It had that closed-up, stifled feel of a house that had stood empty for quite some time.

It also had her scent.

Toronto stood inside, his eyes closed as he breathed it in. Damn, she smelled good. For a long, long moment, he stood there, just wrapping himself in it… and wishing there was some other thing that had brought her to Memphis. Or maybe something that had led him to her outside of Memphis.

Anything but this.

“It is what it is, though,” he muttered, forcing himself to shake off the exotic, sensual spell of her scent. Opening his eyes, he took a long, slow look around. He was in the kitchen. There was a door across from him, and there was a scent-path right to it. He followed it and found that it led to a basement.

That wasn’t where she was, though.

Weird. That was exactly where he would have figured she’d go. A basement made the most sense for a vampire, after all. All nice and tucked away from the sun, less chance of
catching rays through the windows as the shadows shifted and changed during the day. Easier to find the darker shadows.

Still, this was a big house. There would be other places.

She might be laying in wait for you, buddy.
Just because the sun was up didn’t automatically mean she would fall down in a dead sleep. Plenty of vamps could stay up awhile after the sun breached the horizon, and she had some years behind her. More than enough to have developed some resistance to the heavy, heavy call of sleep.

But each room proved empty and he continued tracking that scent-path through the house. It was on the third level that he finally found the next place where she’d stopped. A narrow, simple door tucked away at the end of the hall. He opened it and found a set of stairs that led
up
.

An attic?

What kind of fricking vampire chooses an
attic
to bed down in?

He stared upward, not entirely liking the idea of climbing the steps one at a time— she’d have the high ground. Okay. So he wouldn’t take them one at a time…

He tensed his muscles, leaped—

And landed in a crouch at the top of the steps, braced and ready.

It was something of a letdown to see… nothing.

Just a brightly lit room painted a sunny yellow, with white trim. Simple blue curtains covered the windows. There were bookshelves tucked against the walls, and just more empty space.

And… a closet. Frowning, he stared at it. It was against the northeast wall. Little sunlight would get in as long as the door wasn’t opened and then it wouldn’t be much. She was over a century old— she should be able to take a little sun. It was probably safe enough. But a closet?

On silent feet, he padded across the floor. With each step, her scent grew strong. And his blood pulsed hotter, his heart raced faster. She was in there… he could feel her. In there. Tucked inside that coffin of a closet…

Caution fell away as he reached the door and jerked it
open with an almost savage twist. A bright slice of sunlight fell across the floor and he stared as it hit her hand. A brilliant, hot stain of red spread across her skin almost instantly. “Fuck.”

He slammed the door shut. But with him on the
inside
.

He’d burned her…

Just a sliver of light managed to penetrate inside the gloom of the closet and it didn’t reach her with the door shut. Safe— she’d been safe until he opened the door.

Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small, powerful penlight and flicked it on. She hadn’t even stirred. Most vampires above the midlevel power range would wake up with that sort of threat in their immediate area. They’d wake up around
him
. Sunlight. Both. They might not be able to fight well, but they’d try. Stronger vamps could put more into it.

Fuck, he should have been more careful… he hadn’t heard her stirring, should have thought—

Enough with the should-have’s
, he told himself silently. She couldn’t take sun. He’d fucked up. End of it.

Guilt twisted inside him as she continued to sit there, silent as death and just as still, although when he shifted the beam of light toward her hand, he saw that the burn was already melting away. She’d burn easily, but that minor of a burn would also heal fast, as long as she’d been feeding regularly.

Her hair, black and silky, fell around her shoulders. Crouched by her side, he reached out and caught a lock of it between his fingers, rubbing it back and forth. “I’m sorry,” he whispered softly.

But there was no answer. Nor had he expected one.

Fuck.

Why was this woman getting to him so bad?

C

And with sleep, came dreams.

Her dreams were too often dark, and twisted. But rarely did they travel down this path… at least not for years.

But even as Sylvia tried to pull away from them, she found herself more and more trapped.

Trapped… and as the dreams pulled her in, it was every bit as much memory as dream, and they held her captive.

“He’ll pay ya a lot. You don’t make as much money here as he’ll pay you.”

Standing downwind of the grubby youths, she eyed the money. They’d followed her as she left home that evening, and to her surprise, one of them had approached her. They were young—too young. And someone was using them.

One of them was a sullen little thing, with cruel, cunning eyes that watched everything. He kept watch as the other talked business. And he did know how to talk business. He held out money, brandishing it as though he knew how much she needed it.

“Who is he?” she asked quietly, staring at the bills for a moment before looking back at the child.

“You can find that out later.”

His friend came up to mutter in his ear, shooting her a look and then glancing at the money, eyeing it like he wanted to grab it and run. But he didn’t, just moved back to his spot and continued to look around, quick darting little glances. A watchful, distrustful thing.

“You gonna do it or not?” the other boy demanded. “I ain’t got all night.”

She swallowed, trying to decide. Something inside told her that she should not do this. But if she did this job, she was that much closer to freedom…

Already the boy held more money than she normally saw in one week, much less one night.

“How much more money?” she asked, forcing the unfamiliar words out as she accepted the bills and tucked them away.

He grinned at her, a knowing glint in his young eyes. Now both of them watched her and the knowledge in their eyes shamed her, hurt her deep inside. But she did not look away. She would do what she must. Staring at the boy in front, she waited.

“He says that depends on how good you are. But he said
he’d pay ya fifty dollars, at least. He wants you to wear the blue thing.”

“Blue thing…?” she echoed.

“Yeah. Like that. But blue.” He waved toward her silk kimono.

She glanced down and then back up, nodded. “I accept his offer.”

“Good. I’ll come back. Take you to him later tonight.”

As the two boys turned away, she thought of the money he’d given her, and the money she would earn. He had given her twenty dollars. And later, he would give her fifty more. It was the most she’d earned since she’d been forced to turn to this.

Forced to sell her body. All because of a lie. Sold the promise of a happy, better life.

With an apprehensive look around, she took a few of the bills and stashed them in the small slit she’d made in one of her sleeves. Soon it would be enough money that she could run… she could be free.

T

…
free… I’ll never be free…

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d try to keep you. He…”

She did not look at the boys standing on the other side of the bars. Bars—he’d locked her behind bars.

Now those two boys were there, and while the quiet one remained ever silent and watchful, disgust and distrust still in those young eyes, the other one cried. “I’m so sorry.” He paused and swiped the back of his hand under his dirty, runny nose and continued to watch her with beseeching, sad blue eyes. “He’s never tried to keep a girl before. He just wants to fuck ’em and then he lets them go.”

“Please leave me alone.” She sat on the floor, wearing nothing but the cotton shift one of the maids had brought her, and it barely covered her bruised, battered
body. She had nothing now. She hadn’t her clothing, hadn’t her money, not even her dreams of freedom from her “husband.”

“I’m sorry,” the boy whispered again.

His friend grabbed his arm and tugged, whispered softly, “We have to go before he catches us.”

“I can’t. I have to tell her…”

“You have to tell me you are sorry,” she said, pinning the boy with a hard stare, ignoring the other one. Rage throbbed inside her. Rage over what had been done to her. Rage over what would still be done. The man who had raped her would do it again. She’d seen it in his eyes… in his cold, cold eyes. He was a man who liked to hurt. She could live with that. She had been hurt in many ways over the past two years.

But she had never expected this—to be locked away. Like an animal. Deep inside, she knew she would never leave this place. Not alive. Her dreams of freedom, of having a life, they were all gone now.

“You do not know what sorry is,” she said, shaking her head.

“Lady, please…”

She shook her head. “Do you know… I came to America two years ago. I came as a photograph bride. I was to marry a man who owned a shop.” A sad, bitter smile curled her lips. “He owned no shop. He was not even from Japan. I had been tricked, my family had been tricked. He has twelve of us ‘brides.’ And he makes us sell ourselves. I was saving up enough money to run away.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “I was almost there. My…” She paused, foundering for the unfamiliar word. “There was something inside me that tells me I should not listen to you, boy. That I should stay away. But I wanted the money, so I could go run away sooner.”