Shadow Rising (9 page)

A stubborn little crease had appeared in Ariane’s forehead. She didn’t appear to agree… not that it surprised him.

“You don’t know him. I do. And Sam wouldn’t do that. Someone’s taken him, or killed him. And whoever that is has been following one of us. There’s no way that this happening tonight is a coincidence.”

She looked so upset about her theory that Damien had a momentary urge to indulge her little fantasy and comfort her. But he didn’t have any more time to waste on playing with Ariane tonight. Besides, the very real possibility that he would find himself purring again was too humiliating to think about.

Now it was time to try and track, before all the scents grew cold. The blood of the newest victim would help. Sloppy work on the part of the killer, and Damien was grateful for it.

He gave a small, mocking bow to Ariane. “Well, I wish you luck with your theories. I’m afraid this is where I take my leave, my lady, and I’d suggest running along yourself. Manon was a powerful man. You don’t want to be involved with this. Not if you want to stay free a while longer, at least. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you ought to pull that hideous wig out of the trash too. That hair is a beacon.”

Ariane stood there amid the bloody wreckage and crossed her arms over her chest.

Damien had to force himself to step away. It didn’t help that she was back to looking lost again. She truly didn’t seem to have any connection to the vampires Damien was used to. Nor did she seem to want to.

“You think we should just leave?” she asked. “A man is dead. Probably two men.”

“Someone will be along. They weren’t technically open tonight, but obviously I got an appointment, and I’m sure he would have had one or two of his higher-profile clients stopping in on a night they wouldn’t have to deal with the rabble.”

“But… won’t anyone care? Isn’t there someone who should be notified?”

Damien watched her, surprised by the sincerity that was just about pouring off of her. It really was amazing she’d survived this long in Charlotte.

“Kitten,” he chided her, “you’re in the real world now. Vampires die all the time. I would prefer to stay alive. You really need to learn to deal with it. Do yourself a favor and enjoy your time in the city. Make friends, go shopping, and ditch the sword from hell. I’ll find your friend, if there’s anything left of him to find.”

“You can’t just pat me on the head and send me away, as much as you’d like to.” She paused, then slowly said, “Maybe we should think about sharing information—”

Damien cut her off immediately. “Absolutely not. I work alone. And I never work with amateurs.”

She stiffened, her eyes turning to violet ice. “I think you’d be surprised at the things I can do.”

Oh, I’ll bet I would be…

Damien gritted his teeth and shoved from his mind the X-rated thoughts that immediately tried to surface.

“You don’t want to be a part of my world, Ariane, trust me,” he said softly, and meant it.

“Now run along and hide. Don’t forget your blade, if you don’t want to be found. And… stay out of my way. If you interfere again, I’ll find a few more places to lick, and you won’t be getting up until I’m good and through with you.”

Before Ariane could do more than make a strangled, outraged sound, he shifted into the form that had carried him through centuries of successful criminal activity. As a large black cat, sleek, powerful, and silent, Damien leaped through the window.

And was gone.

chapter
SIX

F
INDING A CAT
who didn’t want to be found, especially in the dark of night, was like looking for a needle in a haystack. But Ariane could smell blood as well as any Cait Sith, so rather than waste precious minutes trying to track Damien, she set off immediately in pursuit of the scent that wound like a ribbon through the darkness.

Fresh blood and death.

The city streets were full of humanity, chattering, walking, blissfully unaware of the other things that stalked their summer nights. Ariane walked quickly through the mortals, feeling hunger stir and then awaken with unexpected strength at their warmth, their intoxicating, pulsing lifeblood. She frowned as she skirted a young couple holding hands and laughing.

She’d been eating, but not enough. Nerves had kept her meals light. She needed to be careful… even the Grigori cautioned their members of how quickly things could get out of hand.

Soon, she decided. But not yet. She’d be damned if Damien would always stay a step ahead of her.

The ribbon of scent took her through the heart of the city, beneath the glittering crown of the Bank of America building, and then farther, to where the shine began to fade and the cracks in the veneer of civilization began to show. Wary eyes peered at Ariane from shadow as she kept moving, her pace never faltering. She knew she was scarier than anything remotely human here, even if they didn’t.

The scent grew strong enough to taste just as she walked past a seedy-looking nightclub. Music pumped out into the street, and a line of twentysomethings stretched along the sidewalk in front of it, talking and complaining while waiting to get in. Next door was a crumbling, empty building with boarded up windows.

It was also redolent with the smell of both her witness and, Ariane realized with a wrinkle of her nose, Damien. He was fast. But then, she supposed that if Sariel really had hired him, there had been reasons. It certainly hadn’t been his personality.

“Hey, you don’t wanna go in there,” a voice called to her as she walked past the line and far enough up the walk to see the padlock and chains effectively barring the front door of the abandoned building. Ariane gave the helpful human the barest glance.

“Of course I do,” she murmured. She heard a few catcalls and some interesting commentary on why a woman like her might be sniffing around an abandoned building. The thoughts and emotions of the crowd threatened to swamp her, swirling around her in a cacophonous jumble that made it almost impossible to pluck out individual
threads or make any sense of it at all. Keeping her thoughts private from the other Grigori was second nature, and vice versa, but vampires’ sensitivity to human thought was a new experience for her. It took effort to quiet the din and focus.

Slowly, her mind went quiet. Ariane breathed a sigh of relief, then turned her attention back to finding what she was now sure would ultimately be a very dead end. Just as importantly, she wanted to show Damien Tremaine that he wasn’t the only one with some hunting ability.

She slipped into the narrow alley between the two buildings, vanishing into shadow as though she’d never been there. The thudding of the bass next door was surprisingly muffled here, and she had the sudden, unshakable certainty she was being watched.

Damien.
Of course it was. He was probably sitting just out of sight watching her approach and laughing.

She frowned at the thought and kept moving, the world seeming to fall away a little more with every step she took. There really was something eerie about this place, whether or not Damien was having fun at her expense somewhere close by. Her senses sharpened; her breathing slowed. Everything she’d been taught about battle over her long years, every scrap of information she had feared would always be useless came flooding back.

And still, she felt those eyes on her.

Ariane’s feet made no sound as she headed for her entry point, a window halfway up the building that was open and missing a board. She could see the tattered curtains moving gently with breeze from either within or without. Damien would have jumped in. In his cat form, panther-like in looks, size, and grace, he could easily have
cleared it if he could leap from a fifteen-story window and land without a scratch.

For her, it would take a little more doing.

Ariane glanced around again, hating that she was in the worst position—she couldn’t see anyone, but there were plenty of hidden places from which others could observe her. Still, if she wanted up and in…

Her wings unfurled from her back, slipping through her skin and clothes like water and then becoming solid. Ariane couldn’t hold back a relieved sigh. At least in the desert she could let them show, spread and stretch them even if she was forbidden to fly anywhere. Here, hiding them was sometimes just added strain. And even now, she couldn’t bring herself to violate that law of the Grigori: no outsider, mortal or immortal, must ever know about her wings.

Newly invigorated, Ariane leaped lightly up and kept going, lifting herself vertically with the strength of the batlike wings that shimmered the deep purple of twilight. She alighted easily on the windowsill, paused to fold her wings back against herself until they vanished once again, and then slipped inside.

Damien stood slouched against the far wall of a room that at one time must have been a family room, but that now featured nothing but peeling wallpaper and scarred wood flooring covered in dirt and grime. A few wrappers and empty syringes littered the corners.

At the sight of him, all of her trepidation vanished in favor of annoyance. He’d obviously been waiting just to taunt her. She stepped away from the window and strode forward.

“Before you say a word,” she threatened, “remember
I’ve brought along that sword you like so much. Now where is he?”

She knew even before she finished speaking that something was really wrong. The posture she’d initially taken for casual disregard was unnatural, like something was holding him by the—

Ariane’s eyes widened as his body swung, ever so slightly, as he tried to move. A soft, muffled gag reached her ears at the same time. And behind her, the window slid shut.

“So many sent for the hunt,” a voice said softly behind her. “The Shade matters little… but I will be sorry about you, sister of my blood.”

She spun, catching just a glimpse of violet eyes very much like her own before a blow to the side of her head knocked her off her feet and sent her crashing into the wall. Ariane thought she might have cried out. She wasn’t sure. Her ears rang, and in the precious seconds before she struggled to her feet again, there was the insidious feeling of something warm and sticky leaking from the ear on which she’d been hit.

It will heal
, she told herself, even though the pain was excruciating right this second.
It doesn’t matter. No matter how much it hurts.

Here was the familiar sound of wings, a
whoosh
of air as her adversary landed in front of her. Ariane couldn’t get her legs to work properly, even though she heard the scrape of metal that meant he was drawing his sword. He was a Grigori. She was going to be killed by one of her own, and she didn’t know why. Her people were not killers, they were not—

When the blade came down, she just managed to get her feet under her and push as hard as she could. She felt
the rush of air pass less than an inch from her head as she lunged to the side, saving herself… for the moment.

“Stop this!” she cried. “I’m Grigori too!”

The voice, deep and sorrowful, spoke again. “I know. I regret I must do this. But I will not be hunted any longer. Not when the real danger waits to rise.”

The words chilled her, especially spoken in the emotionless tones she’d grown so accustomed to over the centuries. There was no reasoning with such a voice.

“I only want to find Sammael,” Ariane said, hoping she had enough time to draw her own sword. She had a better view of her assailant now, and seeing him knocked the wind out of her.

He looked like one of their ancients. Incredibly tall, broad, muscular, with braided white hair that fell down his back. He was as much cold perfection as Sam. But this one had steel in his eyes, and she knew he would kill her, kill Damien… and feel nothing.

The question was, why?

When the sword came down again, she wasn’t as ready. Pain ripped through Ariane’s upper arm as she fumbled to get her own sword out of its sheath on her back. This time she knew she cried out, but it didn’t stop her from rolling to one side and finally, finally getting up with her blade in her hand.

“We don’t kill! Especially not one another!” she shouted, the blade of her scimitar flashing as she swung it.

“I am honor bound. We do what we must,
d’akara
.”

The old endearment in the language of her people, so casually and callously used, hurt worse than her head. She staggered a little on her feet, both hands on the hilt of her sword.

“No. I’m honor bound to find my friend, whatever you’ve done with him! Sariel couldn’t stop me, and neither will you!”

Her words seemed to set him back. She saw some understanding dawn in those cold eyes, saw that she had startled him. Ariane summoned her strength, dredging it up from the depths, and used the moment to her advantage. She swung the scimitar over her head and brought it down. The other Grigori moved at the last second, but not quickly enough. She cleaved a long, deep gash in his chest, forcing him back. His wings flared out to the sides as he moved to balance himself.

Ariane spun and sliced into him again, a battle cry tearing from her lips that she barely recognized as her own voice. Once more, but this time her sword sang as it clashed against his. Blood poured down his chest, then slowed as his body began to knit together again.

“Tell me where he is!”

“No.” Still so calm when there should have been pain, but the Grigori’s breathing was uneven. It wasn’t enough.

“You will tell me.” Emotion, dammed up behind a wall she’d been constructing for centuries, found a crack and began to pour through. “He was all I had in that place. You
will
tell me.”

Her own strength surprised her as she pushed back against the bigger vampire’s blade. But at her words, there was another flicker of something in his expression. Uncertainty, she thought, or maybe just disgust that she would admit to having actual feelings. But his words indicated neither.

“No. Not tonight… Ariane.”

He pushed away without warning, exploding upward
in a burst of power that propelled him through the rotting wood of the ceiling and roof and out into the night. Ariane stared upward, gripping the hilt of her sword so tightly that her hand shook. He had known her name. And he had made the decision to back down despite having killed two vampires who would likely have done little more than point her in a direction.