Nightwalker (19 page)

“I'm not the motherly type.”

Culler looked to Raithe for support. “Tell her.”

“She's not.” Raithe shrugged and dropped Takala.

The chains around her ankles were so tight, she couldn't keep her balance and she tumbled sideways.

Striker wanted to catch her, but Raithe snatched a handful of her hair as she went down.

Her head snapped back.

Raithe held her off the ground by her hair, one hand gripping her throat. He glared at Striker, daring him to make a move so he could snap Takala's neck.

Takala's brow wrinkled in pain. She swallowed hard,
cutting her eyes at Culler, and rasped out, “That's an understatement.”

“Be nice.” Raithe dug his fingertips into her wind-pipe.

Takala coughed and stiffened, gritting her teeth, fighting the crushing power.

Then Culler kicked Takala hard in the gut.

Striker had never felt so powerless in his life. It took all of his willpower to stay rooted to the floor. He wanted to carry Takala off to safety, console her in his arms, but he knew one wrong move and Raithe would destroy her. He could only watch helplessly as Takala's eyes glazed over with tears, more, he suspected, from the emotional agony of betrayal from her own mother, than any physical ache.

Tears rained down Takala's cheeks as she managed to rasp at Culler, “Striker was right about you. You're a cold-blooded waste of humanity.”

Striker kept his gaze on Raithe's hand, waiting for him to make a mistake and free Takala's throat. All Striker needed was a split second. One quick distraction.

“Still, you're worried about me.” Culler jabbed a finger at her chest. “I feel it, the goodness in you. You'd help me, still, wouldn't you?”

Takala said nothing, only glowered at her mother.

Striker hated to see her going through this. He had wanted to spare her the heartache, but he couldn't. When the truth was barbed, it hurt like hell.

Takala said, “I'm glad Fala and Nina know nothing of this.”

“Oh, you mean your sisters. They'd probably take it better than you.”

A woman's garbled yell cut through the air, echoing through the warehouse. It came from the shadows.

“Shut her up,” Raithe bellowed, and a woman's flustered voice said, “Yes, master.”

“Who are you hiding?” Takala asked.

“No one,” Raithe said, wide-eyed with innocence.

Striker tuned in to the heartbeat of the woman who had tried to scream, and he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Two heartbeats the same. Culler's and the one coming from the shadows. Identical. “You are lying,” Striker said.

Takala looked confused.

“Ollie ollie oxen free. He's found us out.” Raithe feigned fear as he looked at Culler. “What shall we do?”

“Ah, phooey, no more fun.” Culler's lips stretched in a cheerless, devious smile.

“What else can we do?” Raithe sighed loudly for effect. “Let them see the real you.”

“Must I?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly Culler began shifting, balding, until there was no hair on her body at all. The skin not covered by her clothes turned multicolored and mottled. Her soft tissue flowed translucent, green veins pulsing within a mass of yellow undulating flesh.

Takala looked at the transformation and said, “You're not Lilly Smith. You're a chameleon demon.”

“That's right.” Her voice rasped. “A trap, you see, to lure Striker here. You were just an unexpected added bonus. But Raithe will turn you into his plaything.”

“So, Lilly is innocent.”

Raithe motioned to the shadows. “This is so touching, I'm going to cry. Bring her out.”

A female vampire that looked like Barbie, with blond hair and wearing blue-and-pink-striped sweats, pulled a bound and gagged Culler, aka Lilly Smith, aka Skye Rainwater, from behind a line of crates. Two glowing crystals were strapped to Lilly's shoulders with duct tape, checking her power. She was bound and gagged. When she saw her daughter, her brilliant blue eyes filled with tears.

“How touching,” Raithe said.

Takala blinked back tears, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Mother,” she cried out, her expression filling with torment, sorrow, then anger.

Striker felt only relief. At least Culler hadn't turned. He glanced up and saw the first rays of the sun washing the sky with yellows and blues and purples. The younger vampires would have to flee and sleep. Striker might have a chance of rescuing Takala.

He and the real Skye Rainwater shared a knowing glance, that fighting spark Striker knew all too well evidenced in her eyes. Suddenly she rammed the female vampire holding her, and they toppled into a wall of crates.

Striker had been easing his hand inside his pocket, and he flipped his phone open so his agents would get the message: COME NOW. Then he sped toward Takala.

All the vampires, including Raithe, converged on him.

For a moment, he was caught in a defensive storm,
breaking necks, tossing bodies, taking the blows Raithe delivered. Some of the vampires fled the sun.

Then there was only the two of them. Striker's shirt ripped, and so did the chain holding the vial with it.

Raithe snatched it midair, grinning like the devil he was.

Striker fought Raithe, but he could feel his power waning. Where did Raithe keep his soil? Surely on his person.

Striker did not feed on fresh human blood, which already gave Raithe an edge. The injections and reconstituted animal blood kept Striker at three-fourths his strength, and without the soil he was no match for Raithe's power.

As if Raithe realized that, too, he hit Striker in the chest. The blow hurled him through the air.

Striker crashed into a stack of crates.

Hundreds of pounds of wood tumbled down on him, bags of rice ripping open and raining into his nose, mouth, body.

Striker felt the world whirling. He spit out dried rice and heard Takala scream before Raithe began tossing aside broken crates, digging Striker out from under the debris.

“Weakling,” Raithe growled, glaring down at Striker. “You should not have given up human feedings.” He tried to kick Striker in the face, but Striker caught his foot and jerked.

Raithe went down backward, crashing through the broken wood.

Striker rose, unsteady on his feet.

But he was slower than Raithe. He was already
floating above Striker's head, his mouth still smeared with Takala's blood, his face contorted into a half-crazed killing mask. Striker didn't see the long, jagged piece of wood until Raithe drove it into his abdomen, shoving him against a crate, impaling him there.

“Now you die, Domidicus.” Raithe's voice rumbled with triumph.

Pain shot through Striker, but he kept his gaze on Takala. He hadn't wanted it to end like this. He knew now that his need for revenge wasn't half as powerful as what he felt for Takala. If he could have kept her safe, he would gladly have given up hunting Raithe. He had failed miserably.

T
akala fought the chains on her hands and feet, watching the blood spew from Striker's gut, his white shirt and suit covered in thick dark streams, a three-foot stake sticking out of his abdomen. His golden hair had come lose from the ponytail, and it fell around his face and shoulders. His form blurred and undulated, and his skin no longer held a faint glow. He didn't look so perfect now. In fact, he looked like a dying man. Takala felt a sick ache in her chest, and she couldn't swallow.

She searched the warehouse for signs of Lilly. She hadn't moved; the female vampire who had held her was fending off one of Striker's agents. Lilly was still bound, the crystals checking her power. Lilly squirmed, trying desperately to get loose. As if she sensed Takala, she glanced up and their eyes met.

In that instant, Takala was certain this was her real mother. Something behind her bright blue eyes was
in Meikoda's and Fala's and Nina's eyes, something Takala knew that bound them through the power of their blood. How could she have been fooled by a chameleon demon?

She saw Striker's agents entering the warehouse, fighting, using some kind of red laser weapon. But they were too late, and a second line of Raithe's vampires, older and stronger ones, slunk out of the shadows like hiding roaches. They attacked the agents in droves, battled in a realm that she couldn't follow.

She caught glimpses of stop-action moments, like a strobe light going off, where Raithe easily dodged the weapons, then grabbed them and broke their necks. His strength seemed godlike in intensity, unstoppable.

“Time to be rid of you.” Takala heard the chameleon demon hiss behind her; then it jumped her. Hands clasped around Takala's neck.

Takala bucked her off, and her foot hit the lantern. Kerosene spilled out in a long line. The fire followed it in a whoosh.

“Bitch, get off of her.” Katalinga had spoken, and Takala saw her pick up the chameleon demon and hurl her into a blazing wall of fire.

Katalinga bent to free Takala, but she said, “Help my mother, please. Get her out of here.”

“Suit yourself.” Katalinga didn't waver and fought her way to Lilly.

In that moment, Takala admired Katalinga as she fought the chains. They were stronger than she was. She gritted her teeth and kept jerking on them.

Brawn appeared beside her and said a spell. A fireball
appeared in his hands. “Hold up your wrists and close your eyes.”

“Hope you can aim that thing.” Takala followed his orders.

“Let's find out.” He threw it at the chains.

She felt the fireball spit and burn past her skin and roll to the floor, consumed by the growing flames.

The chains gave way.

Takala held up her feet, and Brawn hit the chains again with another fireball, freeing her totally.

“Thanks.”

One moment Brawn was standing; the next, the chameleon demon jumped from the flames, hit his back and they were down and rolling in the fire.

Takala dove for the demon, pulled her off Brawn and slung her as hard as she could against a wall of burning crates. They crashed down on her, and the demon screeched as the flames consumed her.

Brawn didn't have time to thank Takala, for one of Raithe's vampires attacked him.

Takala couldn't see Lilly or Katalinga. As she ran to help Striker, she prayed Katalinga had gotten her mother out.

Flames burned all around him, smoke billowing. Takala held her breath and leaped through the fire. Heat singed her as she rolled near him.

He looked bad, pale as the broken crates, agony and the prospect of death shredding his cool demeanor, etching his handsome face in a tableau of pain.

She squatted near him. “Oh, my God! Look at you.”

“Go,” he gasped over the roar of the fire, his eyes
bleak with unspoken longings and regrets. “Leave me. Save yourself.”

His expression tore at her heart. “We're in this together, buster.” Takala coughed, braced her foot against his shoulder and grasped the stake. “This is gonna hurt.” She jerked the stake from his abdomen.

He gasped, holding his middle, his head lolling back, the whites of his eyes rolling.

“Stay with me!” She jammed her wrist against his lips and held his chin. The smoke burned and stung her eyes, and she had to cough and breathe. “Bite me,” she yelled at him.

“No.”

“You need the strength, damn it. Bite me! I'm not letting you die.”

Striker hesitated, his eyes glazed with fading anguish. He said something that sounded like “Only to save you,” but she couldn't be certain.

His fangs snapped out, and he bit down on her wrist. Takala felt the points go deep, felt the jolt of pain. Then he gorged on her blood.

He drank until she felt light-headed and spots filled her vision, and she kept blinking away the stinging smoke to see.

Finally he stopped.

Takala watched the wound in his abdomen healing right before her eyes.

At that moment, Raithe appeared out of the flames like a demon from hell. He grabbed her. She punched at him, but she was weak, useless.

“There's my prize,” he said, his laughter ringing in her ears.

He carried her straight up, moving at vampire rocket speed, making her dizzy. Already light-headed, she struggled to hang on to consciousness. Takala tried to fight him again, but he held her arms trapped at her sides. His grip felt like iron bands, tight enough her ribs would break at any second.

“No, Raithe,” Striker yelled as he hit Raithe, the vibration rocking through Takala.

Raithe bellowed and buckled. He lost his grip on her as he was torn away.

The second before she fell, everything shifted into slow motion as if the world had stopped spinning. She glimpsed the crane and hook Striker had driven through Raithe's body and heart. Striker pried something from Raithe's fist before he jettisoned Raithe into a solid wall of flames. Raithe screamed, hanging there helpless, cursing Striker, his body turning to blue-black flames, sparking and fizzing like a firecracker.

Takala felt herself falling now, slowly, heading straight into the roaring inferno below her. Heat and smoke blasted her, searing her skin, hair, face. She was melting.

Suddenly strong arms broke her fall.

Striker's strength engulfed her, buoyed her. She closed her eyes, coughed, and that was the last thing she knew before blessed darkness and peace floated her away.

 

Someone's cool hand moved over Takala's brow. Striker. She opened an expectant eye, and it wasn't the face she expected to see. She gazed into Lilly's eyes—Skye Rainwater's face. Now that Takala could see her mother up close, it was impossible to miss the
newly formed red scars that gouged her neck, hands and cheeks. Raithe's handiwork, no doubt. Anger washed over Takala until she remembered seeing Raithe being burned alive.

“Oh, Takala, you've grown up so beautiful.” Skye stroked Takala's brow.

“Where is Striker?” Takala glanced around. She saw that she was lying on an emergency cot. The warehouse was half a block away, charred and smoking, the blaze gone. Cleaners combed the warehouse, zapping the building with their powerful handsets that restored order to the universe and put some of the atoms back where they were supposed to be and snatched some entirely away. The owners of the warehouse would find out there'd been a fire, but they wouldn't know who had caused it, or who had put it out.

A tall cleaner with large eyes stood at attention behind Lilly. He looked anxiously down at Takala. “You seem to be okay now. I was given strict instructions to secure your safety.”

“Where is your boss?” Takala asked. She didn't mean to sound demanding, but she wanted to see Striker.

“Had to leave,” Skye said.

“Left without saying goodbye?” Her chest tightened, right in the region over her heart. She had to remind herself that she didn't expect anything from him. They would probably never see each other again. Everything they had been through meant nothing to him. It hurt that he had no feelings whatsoever, not even enough to say goodbye or thank you for saving his life. Twice they had saved each other's lives. That counted for something in her book. Maybe not in his.

Skye had an intuitive look on her face, a mother's look. “He couldn't stay, Takala. You have to know that. After drinking your blood, he just couldn't be near you. You have to know how much of a temptation that would be for him. He asked me to explain that and say goodbye.”

Takala wanted to ask if that was all he said, but she refused to go there. No, he didn't want to be near her, and she didn't need him around to feel good about herself. She didn't need anyone's approval or affection. Oddly, she didn't even need Skye Rainwater in her life, and if her mother wanted it that way, Takala could live with it. Striker's honesty and insight had given her an invincible inner confidence. So why did her chest feel like it was caving inward, making it hard to breathe? It was just the way he'd used her and left, a nasty, unfilled ending. That's all it was, she told herself.

A long, pregnant beat passed between them. Takala biting her lower lip and looking everywhere but at her mother. Skye leaning back and no longer touching her daughter.

“I'm so sorry, Takala.”

She looked at Skye. “We don't need to do this now.”

“Yes, we do. I owe you an explanation. When I heard your voice in the warehouse, I knew it was you. I just knew.” Tears filled her eyes, wetting her long black lashes, making her eyes look like a blue sea. “I didn't think after all these years I'd recognize you, but I did. A mother never forgets.”

“She just leaves.” Takala strained to keep her voice even, not accusing.

“You don't understand.”

“Help me to.” Takala spoke past a growing lump in her throat.

“I turned my back on becoming the Guardian to be with your father. I gave up everything, my mother, the family, the tribe. We ran away and only had each other. He was my whole existence. And when he died, I just lost it. I loved your father more than life itself. I see so much of him in you. Same proud chin. His eyes were green like one of yours.” She ran the back of her hand along Takala's cheek as if she were caressing a memory. “I know this sounds horrible, but I couldn't look at you after he died, none of you. It was just a reminder of the pain.”

Takala vaguely remembered now. Fala, five or six, handing her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, telling her not to eat so much. Skye lying on the couch, catatonic with grief, staring at the television set, an empty bottle of gin on the floor.

“When Fala didn't go to school, social services threatened to take you away. That's when I knew I had to do something. I knew I couldn't care for you girls, and I wasn't about to let the authorities have you, so I left you with my mother. I knew you'd have a much better life with her than me. I dried myself out and went to work for the State Department. When they found out about my power, I learned about B.O.S.P. I asked to be out in the field, as far away from Virginia as possible.”

“But you kept a house in Fredericksburg.”

“Something about the land of our people drew me.”

“That's just how I feel. When I'm away from the reservation for too long, I get depressed and antsy.”

“That's why I couldn't live anywhere else but Virginia. I suppose you've seen my house.”

Takala nodded. “That's how I came across the chameleon demon.”

“Raithe thought of everything, didn't he?” Skye shook her head in disgust. “Makes me mad that she was in my house.”

“You still live there?”

“Oh, yes, when I'm not undercover. I rented it to a real nice couple when I was given this assignment with Raithe. I hope they are okay.”

“I'm sure Striker will find out.” At the mention of his name, Takala felt leather bands slap around her chest.

“Oh, yes, he's thorough, and the people under him are great.”

Silence crept between them, the sound of cleaners giving each other orders, the morning sounds of Paris humming in the background.

Finally Lilly said, “You know, I can't count the number of times I started to go to the reservation, just to see you girls from afar, but I knew it would kill me to see you and get close. I felt certain you wouldn't want to see me anyway.”

“I don't judge you, Mom.” The word sounded foreign on Takala's tongue. “Can't speak for Fala and Nina, but I don't judge you. I just wanted an explanation. That's why I had to find you. I guess I've gotten it.” She summoned all her inner courage and finished with, “The big question is, what do we do now?” Takala forced herself to meet her mother's tear-filled blue eyes, dreading what she might hear, yet knowing she could live with whatever came.

Skye swallowed hard, tears trailing down her cheeks. “Do you think they want to see me?”

“I don't know, but if you don't face them, you're missing out. Fala and Nina just got married. They'll be starting a family one day. Grandmother acts like you don't exist, but every day I see emptiness in her eyes, like a part of her is missing, and it hurts me to see her like that. You know she kept a picture of you, in spite of the old laws.”

“She did?” Skye sounded surprised.

“I found it when I came looking for you. Hid it in the old cedar chest in her room, under some quilts.”

Skye looked as if she was picturing the cedar chest Takala had just described as she said, “That's where I used to snoop for things when I was a kid.” A sad smile edged across her wet cheeks, and she wiped at the tears with the back of her hand. “She must hate me for what I did.” Skye sounded as if she hated herself for her weakness of so long ago.

“How can you say that? Grandmother raised your children. Went against the laws and kept a picture of you, even though you'd been disowned. She wears the hollowness you left in her like a badge. She is getting old, too. I think she deserves to see you again and hear a thank-you, at least.”