Taken (Ava Delaney #4)

By Claire
Farrell

Edited by Lynn
O’Dell

In the months
since Ava fooled the British vampires and dealt with Becca for
good, life has been easier, but not without its problems. Her deal
with the twins is physically harming her, Peter’s grasp on sanity
is slipping, Carl is struggling, and Esther is losing her edge.

Ava’s been
asking questions in an attempt to fulfil her various deals, but her
persistence turns out to be the biggest problem. She’s not the only
one asking questions, but somebody wants her to stop, and finding
out who’s in charge is a lot more difficult than taking care of her
new houseguest.

To survive, Ava
must take control of her own destiny for a change. That might
involve swallowing her pride and accepting help from those she
doesn’t trust because new foes are on the horizon, and the number
of people needing her protection keeps increasing.

Smashwords
Edition

August 2012

Copyright ©
Claire Farrell 2012

[email protected]

Cover art © Renu Sharma |
 
www.thedarkrayne.com

Licence
Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This
eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you
for respecting the hard work of this author.

I followed
Peter past a couple of blocks of run-down flats, growing more
concerned with each step. Sweat trickled down my spine in
anticipation of encountering the unknown. The endless, likely
self-induced, premonitions of imminent disaster, not to mention the
racing of Peter’s pulse, forced me to mouth numbers under my
breath. Counting only helped a little; the area itself thwarted any
attempts I made to calm myself.

Sounds echoed
strangely in the night, and the buildings loomed ominously, the
windows more like hooded eyes peering straight through our
intentions, recognising our secrets. Figures moving along the
balconies created shadow giants on the ground, and I grew jumpier
by the second.

Cackles of
obnoxious laughter from three blocks away erupted as if right over
my shoulder, yet whispers from a couple of yards away couldn’t be
heard clearly. Something surreal lingered in the air, some
knowledge that dark things were among us, yet nobody cared.

A gang of kids
who should have been home in bed at that time of night heckled as
we passed, and I resisted the urge to flash some fang. An unseen
arm flung an empty bottle from the depths of the flats; it landed a
couple of feet behind me with a clatter. By the giggles and sounds
of running feet, I guessed a child had been the culprit. The only
people in Dublin brave enough to give Peter and me a hard time were
ten-year-old boys. Sometimes I wished for their innocence.

The streetlamps
ended, and we were mired in mostly darkness for the rest of the
journey, except when a random gleam of moonlight brightened our
path. The sounds from the flats died and left us completely alone.
Somehow, that was worse. A shudder ran down my spine when shadows
closed in on us. As we surrendered ourselves to the blackest black,
Peter never once looked back, but I kept following him, waiting for
the clouds to uncover the moon again.

This
traditionally poverty-stricken part of Dublin’s inner-city had
always been dark, always clouded with misery, a stark reminder of
my old succubus-ridden flat. That night was no different, but I
felt something…
other
in the air, and my base instincts said
to run.

Peter didn’t
say anything as he led the way to our latest
victims
. I
couldn’t think of a better word for what we made them, and it was
from us I wanted to run. We had become unofficial voices of the
Council, pushing our way through our world to find the answers we
needed. My conscience bit at me on a regular basis. We stepped
lightly over deep puddles that had formed over somewhat ominous
holes gouged out in the concrete until we came to what looked like
a group of abandoned warehouses.

“In here,” he
said gruffly, his heart rate increasing. Excitement or fear.

The building he
indicated rose over us like an angry monster preparing to chomp
down on intruders. I didn’t want to go inside. I didn’t want to
play the game again. But Peter wasn’t going home without at least
asking some questions, and I couldn’t walk away either. I had too
many bosses on my back, too many favours owed.

Peter pushed at
the large door, found it locked, and shrugged. “We’ll need to go
around the back.”

The buildings
stood tight together, so I turned to go around the long way.

“No, this way.
It’s quicker.” He took my hand and led me to the end of the row of
buildings. A small space was between two of them, barely large
enough for us to walk through sideways. Trying not to get freaked
out by the close quarters, I side-stepped after Peter, cursing him
inwardly.

“You hate me,
don’t you?” I hissed.

He stayed
silent, although his lips quivered a little in the dim light. The
walls were wet with some kind of slime, and a weird stench seemed
to erupt as we moved further into the alley. I screwed up my face
in disgust, but he kept moving steadily. If I gave up, I would
never hear the end of it.

We finally made
it to the end of the line, and I gazed at him, wondering what he
would suggest next.

He gestured
upward. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

I stifled a
groan. Not climbing. Not again.

“It’s not so
bad. We just need to walk the wall around and back up to the
warehouse.”

“Right, but
what’s the smell?”

“Them, I
suppose.”

“And they
are?”

His gaze locked
onto mine. “I didn’t stick around to ask for details, Ava. All I
know is these people might have answers to our questions. So here
we are.” He bent his knee as much as he could, which wasn’t
particularly far at all, and held out his hands.

Steeling myself
for the rest of what was turning out to be an awful night, I
grabbed his hands, stood on his thigh, and hauled myself up onto
the wall, praying I wouldn’t fall. It wouldn’t be the first time. I
faltered, scrambling to hold on, but he planted his hands on my
backside, pushing me up. I managed to pull one leg over the wall
and ended up straddling it, leaning forward as I reached down to
help Peter.

He ignored me
and basically walked up the wall by using the opposite wall, his
hands and feet spread wide, balancing himself perfectly.

“Show off,” I
hissed as he sat next me, a smug expression on his face.

“Lots of
practice growing up.” He cocked his head to the side. “You should
have climbed more when you were younger.”

“I had more
sense. Obviously, that went out the window when I met you.”

He lifted my
legs over his and pulled me closer to him, heat generating in his
hazel eyes.

I gripped the
wall frantically. “I could fall!”

He rolled his
eyes and freed me. I balanced myself warily, getting to my feet as
slowly as possible.

Peter looked up
at me with amusement. “Vampires jump off buildings, and angels are…
well, angels. So what’s wrong with you exactly?”

I closed my
eyes and held out my arms to find my centre. “I just don’t do well
with heights, okay? You know it, yet you seem to find great
pleasure in getting me to climb. Can we get on with this,
please?”

He held my
hand, his strong fingers around mine, steady and warm, and I felt
relief. He wouldn’t let me fall. I opened my eyes and swallowed
hard as he led me slowly along the surface of the wall with no more
showing off. My difficulty with heights was all in my head. I knew
that, but it didn’t stop me from wobbling.

I counted my
steps, stopping every time I reached five, much to Peter’s
frustration. “I’ll fall on six,” I tried to explain, but he just
shook his head.

The smell grew
stronger, a weird, rotting, earthy smell, and I heard noises as we
moved around to the back of the buildings—a discussion, although I
didn’t understand the words.

“Definitely not
empty,” I whispered.

He nodded,
keeping his eyes trained on the back of the warehouse. I spotted no
movement, but in the dark, it was hard to tell. A glimmer of light
flickered from somewhere, and I held my breath, waiting for
something to attack. Nothing happened, and Peter yanked my hand
roughly, urging me to keep walking.

We made it to
the warehouse without me falling or screaming like a little girl.
Sometimes I acted altogether too human for Peter’s liking. He
jumped off the wall and landed on his feet, making only a slight
scuffling noise. I tried to climb down, but as I lowered myself,
his firm hands on my waist helped me before I fell and alerted
anyone to our presence. Sometimes his presumption that I would mess
up bothered the hell out of me.

He held on to
me even after I landed, fingers digging into my waist to push me
against the wall as I turned to face him, his body barring my way.
His lips found mine before I could protest, and as his cinnamon
scent surrounded me, I couldn’t remember what I was protesting
against.

That was Peter:
excited from the hunt and ready to temporarily let me into his
world. My fingers gripped his sandy-brown hair, and he broke away,
panting, wildfire in his eyes.

“We’re leaving
through the front door,” I warned him. I received a grin in return.
That didn’t help my already edgy nerves. I knew him too well.

“Sure how we’re
playing this one?” he asked.

I nodded. He
pointed to an open doorway, but I gripped his arm to stop him while
I reached out with my senses to see what might be inside. All I saw
was a large, squirming mass of murky teal.

“What the hell
are they?” I whispered.

He shrugged. I
could only sense what seemed like one being inside, a large being
that I had never come across before.

We darted
across the concrete to the unguarded doorway, and the smell almost
overcame me. Holding my breath, I followed him inside, taking
small, light steps. I blinked rapidly in the sudden darkness and
random glow. Once my eyes adjusted to the change, I saw that tiny
lights lit up the room. Smoke filled the air, and I realised my
mistake. It wasn’t one being, but many beings who shared
something—a mind, an instinct, a cause, something that entwined
them together. I hoped that was the only similarity they shared
with the succubi.

They all
watched us warily. Peter moved to the closest figure and asked him
some questions. The being shook its head, obviously irritated.

All of the
creatures, for I knew their human-looking masks weren’t real,
slowly shifted into their true forms: almost translucent grey skin,
angular features, pink doe-shaped eyes. Hairless, heartless beings.
They wouldn’t help us.

Peter seemed to
realise the same thing because his pulse hitched up a notch, and I
saw the shaking in his hands.

I should have
known he would start something. Anyone else would have expected it,
but I wore rose-tinted glasses whenever I looked at Peter. So I
thought this time would be different. This time we could ask
questions without having to fight our way out. This time we would
get the right answers.

I saw the gleam
in his eye a half-second before anyone else. He would go into one
of his Cúchulainn type frenzies if I didn’t stop him. Not that I
had ever stopped him before.

“Maybe they
don’t know anything,” I murmured, all too aware of the strange eyes
on me.

As their eyes
burned into one vibrant flame red, I knew we were only seeing what
they wanted us to see. Anyone else would see a bunch of squatters
lounging around, smoking joints. They made sure we saw enemies,
ready to pounce.

“They know
something,” Peter said through clenched teeth. Quick as a flash, he
dragged one to the wall, his fingers wrapping around the…
whatever’s neck. “Tell me what you know!”

And so it was
up to me to have his back. While he indulged in a little torture, I
had to fight the creatures gunning for his heart. One by one, they
slunk closer to us. They were slate-skinned and alien-looking, with
tongues that slit in two like serpents, thoroughly freaking me
out.

“Not today,” I
said to the one closest to me. “I am so not in the mood for
this.”

It hissed,
sliding along on the balls of its feet, and my heart sank. Not
again.

Something moved
under the surface of the creature’s skin, from its shoulders right
down to its wrist. Its hand clawed into something spectacularly
repulsive and whipped out at me, almost catching my face.