Angel's Pain (17 page)

Frowning, exchanging glances with the others before returning his gaze to her, Jack asked, “What's going on, Roxy?”

“We're still not sure. But we think Dwyer is somehow behind Crisa's symptoms, and that he's luring her up there as a means to get to Raphael, knowing he would follow. Raphael and Briar are supposed to meet with him tonight.”

“Are they nuts?” Seth asked, his voice rising. “Doesn't Reaper realize it's probably a trap? This guy wants to get him back so they can do some more tinkering with his brain, bring him back into the fold, make him their own personal freaking WMD.”

“He knows that, Seth,” Roxy said. “But it's the only way Dwyer will tell him what's going on with Crisa. He told Raphael he was expecting her to show up tonight, too.”

“How could he possibly be controlling Crisa like that?” Vixen asked.

“We don't know,” Roxy said. “But she's getting worse. At least, she is if Briar's symptoms are anything to go by.”

“She's bad?” Jack asked.

Roxy nodded, meeting his eyes and seeing the worry there. He was more fond of the she-devil than any of them were, except, perhaps, for Reaper himself. Then she shifted her eyes, glancing at Topaz. “She was driving when the worst episode yet hit her. Blinding pain, Reaper said. I'm afraid your Land Rover is totaled.”

“But they're okay?” Topaz asked.

Roxy nodded. “They're okay.”

“That's what matters. The car's insured, anyway.”

“What's our ETA, Roxy?” Jack asked.

Roxy glanced at the GPS system mounted on the dashboard. “If we drive all night and all day tomorrow, we can make it by tomorrow night. I think Ilyana and I are ready to take a turn napping in the back, though. You guys can take over the driving for a while.”

“Amen to that,” Ilyana said. “There's a rest stop five miles ahead. I'll pull off and we can switch. Roxy and I need a restroom and some food, anyway.”

“I'll drive next,” Seth offered. He eyed them both.

“You two are something else, you know that?”

“Of course we do,” Roxy said.

“Does Reaper know we're coming?”

Ilyana met his eyes. “We're under strict orders to keep our distance from him, in case this is a trap. But I think deep down he must know we won't listen. He can't possibly imagine I'd stay away, knowing Gregor is there.” She flipped on the signal and moved smoothly into the right lane, spying the rest stop's lights in the distance. “That bastard has my son.”

The vampires in the back nodded. Jack said, “We're going to get him back, Ilyana. Safely.”

She frowned, glancing back at him and then at the others, who were all nodding, and something in her face softened. “Thank you.”

“No,” Topaz said. “Thank
you.
”

 

Crisa had two desires driving her through the night, on foot, in the pouring rain. The boy, she had to get to the boy. And beyond that need was the evil voice in her head, commanding her to come to him. But the two were not in the same place.

Whenever she tried to resist the voice in her head, the commanding one that ordered her to come to him, the pain grew worse. When she headed toward him, it eased. And yet, the boy needed her. He
needed
her. She was compelled by everything in her—everything except that voice in her head—to go to him.

So despite the pain that seemed to increase with every step she took, that was what she did.

She was getting weak. The pain was wearing her down. She could feel Briar coming for her, getting closer all the time. And the man, the boss man, shouting at her,
Come to me. Now!

She'd been ignoring him, refusing to reply as she emerged from the brush onto a busy street in the village of Byram. She peered through the rain at the lighted neon sign of a motel, and she
knew
that was where the boy was.

What are you doing, Crisa? That's not where I am. You have to come to me.
The words were accompanied by excruciating pain that made tears spring to her eyes.

“I have to go to him. I have to help the boy.” She spoke aloud, knowing, somehow, that the voice in her head could hear her. And that he could see what she saw, as well, though she didn't understand how. Was he a demon? A ghost? Another vampire? Who was he, and why was he inside her head?

The boy? The boy is there?

“I think so.”

There was a long moment of blessed silence. Then,
All right. Get the boy, then come to me. Bring him with you.

She stopped halfway across the street. “Why? What do you want with him?”

A horn blasted, and she moved out of the way of the passing vehicle. “I won't do it,” she said as she finished crossing and stood in the parking lot of the motel, honing her sense of the boy, finding the room, the door with the tin number tacked to its face. 16. The six hung crookedly, its bottom nail missing.

You don't have a choice.

She closed her eyes, knowing she
did
have a choice. She could suffer the pain, die from it, rather than do what this voice demanded.

He's not safe where he is, Crisa.
The voice had softened and felt…almost kind now.
He's not safe. The man who has him will hurt him. You have to save him. Get him away from that man and bring him to me. He'll be safe here. So will you.

She stared at the door with the numbers on it. “He's not safe?”

He needs you to save him. He's counting on you, Crisa.

“He's counting on me,” she whispered, and then she walked up to the door.

 

Matt was sitting on the floor, watching TV when he felt something tickle its way up his spine and lift his head. It was involuntary, that movement. And the way his gaze speared the motel room door was involuntary, too.

Derry had been getting more nervous and jerky by the moment ever since the sun went down. He would sit still for five minutes, then get up and go from one window to another, peering outside.

Like if there was a vampire coming after him, his looking outside would do a darn thing to stop it.

And one
was
coming now, Matt thought.
His
was coming now. He felt her.

Crisa.

The door slammed open as if someone had pounded the other side with a sledgehammer. It hit the wall, and she stood there, kind of hunched up, like a cat with its back arched. She was dripping wet, pale, and she had dark circles around eyes that glowed with a reddish light. Her hair was wet, too and stuck up all over, like the feathers of a bird caught in a windstorm.

Matt was kind of surprised that he wasn't scared. He probably should have been. But he felt certain, right to his toes, that she wasn't dangerous. Not to him, anyway.

Derry had frozen in place in the doorway from the bathroom, where he'd gone to peer out the window again. He just stared at her.

Matt got up onto his feet. “Crisa?” he asked.

The glow in her eyes blinked out. They were big and brown in the room's pale light, and when she saw him, her lips trembled into a small smile, and she came inside.

“You're okay,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I'm fine.”

She sent a look toward Derry. “You're lucky, mister.”

“Hey, I wasn't gonna hurt him.”

“Not much,” Matt muttered.

Derry sent him a frown but shifted his gaze quickly back to Crisa again. “Look,” he said. “I know you've been having pain, odd symptoms, and I can help you with that.”

“I don't know you.” She held out a hand to Matt. “Come with me. No one can hurt you if you're with me. But we have to hurry.”

He looked at her. Then he looked at Derry.

“Don't do it, kid. She's sick. If she doesn't let me help her, she's not long for the world.”

“And I'm supposed to believe you?” Matt grabbed his coat. “You've only been using me to get to my father.”

“Matt! I've been good to you.”

“To keep me from bugging out, yeah. But you've been using me, and I know it. If you really wanted to take me back to my mom like you promised, then we wouldn't have been hiding out in some stupid motel all this time.”

Shrugging into his coat, Matt moved toward the door.

Derry lunged at him and grabbed him by the shoulder, as if to pull him back. But Crisa, the drowned bird in the doorway, pounced so fast that Matt didn't even see her move. One minute he was walking toward her as she stood there in the rain, and the next she was straddling Derry, who was lying on his back on the floor, gasping for air. Matt wasn't sure, but he thought she might have punched him in the chest and knocked the wind out of him.

Or broken his ribs.

“Don't
touch
the boy!” she shouted.

“Uh, my name's Matt.”

She rose slowly, her eyes pinning Derry where he lay, never wavering.

“Do you, um…do you think you could help me find my mom, Crisa?”

“I'll help you do whatever you want me to,” she said as she backed toward the door. “Do you know where she is?”

“No. Her name's Ilyana, and my father told me she was dead, but this guy says she's not.”

That brought her gaze off Derry and onto him in a hurry and she was smiling in a way that made him forget she was a dripping wet mess. “Ilyana? She's your mom?” Her smile got bigger as he nodded, and the look in her eyes seemed to beam a warm, wonderful feeling into him. It was like a big hug, only not one. “I
know
her,” she said softly.

Matt felt his eyebrows go up.

“She's too skinny. And she has really short hair, so blond it's almost white, and her eyes—”

“That's her! That's my mom!”

Her smile became a soft laugh. “I know
right
where she is. I came from there.” Then she frowned. “It wasn't an easy trip, though. It took me a long time and I had to take rides with strangers, and you're a kid, and kids aren't supposed to ride in cars with strangers.” She frowned, working through it in her mind. “Maybe we need a car of our own.”

“
He's
got a car,” Matt said, looking at Derry.

Derry pushed himself backward, until he could brace himself in a sitting position against the wall.

“Give me your car keys, Derry,” Matt said.

“No. No way in hell. You aren't—”

There was a half growl, half bark, and Crisa was holding him up in the air by the front of his shirt.

“Okay, okay!” He fished the keys from a pocket and tossed them to Matt.

“You shouldn't go with her, Matt. She's gonna take you right back to your father.”

“Shut up,” Crisa said, shaking him once.

“He's controllin' her mind, Matt. There's a chip in her head, and he has the remote. He can
make
her hand you over.”

She slammed Derry into the wall—hard—and his neck snapped back. Then she just let go. He thudded to the floor, his head lolling to one side, eyes closed. There was a smear of blood down the wall, leading from where his head had made contact to where it was resting now.

Matt stared at him and blinked. “Is he…dead?”

Crisa knelt and looked at Derry. She tipped her head to one side, then all the way to the other. And then she stood up. “Nope. Why? Do you want him to be?”

“No. He was pretty good to me, even if he
was
lying to me and using me. So is it true, what he said? Is my father controlling you?”

She shrugged. “There's a mean guy talking to me inside me head, telling me what to do. When I disobey, it hurts, and sometimes it hurts for no reason at all. But he can't make me do anything. He can only hurt me if I don't.” She frowned at Matt. “Do you think the mean guy in my head is your father?”

“Yeah, probably. Crisa, I don't want anyone to hurt you. And he will, if he can.”

“I don't want anyone to hurt you, either,” she told him. “And I won't take you back to your father…unless that's what you want. Is it?” She seemed a little bit afraid of his answer.

“No way.”

Her smile returned. “Good. So let's go. We'll find your mom for you.”

She held out a hand.

Matt nodded and handed her the keys.

She looked at them, then smiled widely. “This should be fun. I never drove a car before.”

“Uh. Okay, maybe you should give those to me,” Matt said. She looked heartbroken, but she handed over the keys.