Angel's Pain (4 page)

Gregor shoved his prisoner into the chair, then proceeded to go through the man's pockets, tearing his clothes in the process. Eventually he located a set of keys and, smiling, pocketed them.

Dwyer's eyes widened. “There's nothin' in my house that you can use!”

“No? Well, I tend to disagree, given what I so recently observed through your windows. But I'll judge for myself once I've gone through the place. Tell me, are you expecting your wife home soon?”

“I—I don't—We're divorced.”

“Convenient.” He smiled slowly, then, unable to contain it, chuckled deep in his chest.

“What…what's so damn funny?”

Gregor met the frustrated, frightened man's eyes. “I was just thinking how many people would kill to be in my position. My former employer becomes my captive. And I can do anything I want to him.”

“The CIA was good to you, Gregor. We never gave you any reason to—”

“The CIA
used
me. Just like you used Reaper. He was content to escape and move on. But I'm smarter than he is, Derrick. I'm turning the tables. I'm going to use
you
now, to get exactly what I want. And I'm going to enjoy the process.”

“You're a bastard.”

“Yes, I know. Sadly, we've wasted too much time to allow me to go visit your home tonight. Tomorrow will have to be early enough. I'll have one of the drones toss some food and water in to you to get you through the day. I want you alive and kicking for this, after all.”

He turned, and stepped to the door. “See you tonight, Derrick. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to it.”

Then, stepping into the hall, he closed and locked the door, leaving the man to his thoughts, which would do, Gregor estimated, at least half his job for him.

 

The caravan of vehicles arrived at Topaz's mansion-like home on Emerald Isle, North Carolina, in the dead of the night, which was, Reaper speculated, for the best. Not as many tourists out and about to get a gander at “Shirley,” the bright yellow, customized conversion van that Roxy insisted was nearly human. It would draw a lot of unnecessary attention.

Topaz's home sat on a rise near the far end of the long, narrow island, surrounded by scrubby-looking bushes and trees. From the main road, no one could even see the ten-foot fence that bordered the place just within the boundary of flora.

The lead vehicle in their little vampiric parade was Jack's Carrera, sleek and black and dangerous-looking, but not terribly out of place. Topaz rode with Jack, naturally. The two rarely seemed to be more than a foot apart these days. Jack used to be a hard-ass, like her, Briar thought. Now he'd gone soft. Fallen in love. Fallen for a fairy tale was more like it, in her considered opinion.

Roxy drove the canary-yellow van, which managed to keep up, in spite of its bulk. Ilyana sat in the passenger side, Reaper and Briar in the middle set of seats. In the rear seat, Mirabella rode alongside Crisa, and she'd been gently massaging the childlike vampiress's neck for the last several miles. Bringing up the rear were Seth and Vixen, in the Shelby Mustang Seth had liberated from its former owner. He insisted it would have been presumed destroyed in the fire that had consumed the celebrity's home, and anyway, it had been covered by insurance. Though Briar doubted any amount of money could compensate for a classic like that one.

Seth had potential, she thought. Or at least a backbone. And that was worth a lot.

As the gates swung open to admit them and the van trundled through, Mirabella caught her breath. “This is where my daughter lives?”

“Yeah,” Roxy said from the driver's seat. “She's done pretty well with that money you left her, hasn't she?”

“She's done extremely well,” Mirabella said. “This is stunning.”

“It is,” Reaper said, even as he frowned at Briar, probably due to the smirk of distaste crossing her face. She didn't think much of the rich and famous. She'd grown up hard, homeless, on the streets. There probably weren't too many like her who
could
think well of those who seemed to have it all, especially those who'd never had to work for it.

Still, she was aware that Topaz had suffered for her wealth. Not as much as Briar had suffered for her lack of it, though.

As they pulled to a stop near the doors, the gates closing slowly behind them, Briar muttered, “Why the hell does one person
need
all this? Where does she even get off having so much?”

Crisa piped up. “I think it's pretty.”

“Yeah, it's pretty, all right. Pretty freaking ridiculous.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Roxy said. “You can't really judge a person by what they have. No more than you can judge someone for not having anything at all. It's who they are that counts, don't you think?”

“I wasn't judging her. I don't care enough to judge anyone. I just think it's stupid for one person to take up so much space, that's all.”

Roxy shut off the engine, opened her door and got out. Then she stretched the kinks out of her back and shoulders, as the others disembarked and headed for the front door.

Topaz hesitated near the front door, her key ring in her hand.

“What's wrong?” Jack asked, searching her face, worry clouding his own.

Briar rolled her eyes.
Here we go again with the sappy, emotional bullshit.

Topaz lowered her gaze. “I—I haven't been happy in this place. Not for a long time. Walking in here…it feels like walking back into heartache and tears and—”

Jack pulled her gently into his arms. “No more of those for you, princess. Not if I have anything to say about it. And I kind of think I do.”

When he released her and she lifted her head again, there were tears on her cheeks, but she was smiling through them. “I'm being silly. I have everything I've ever wanted now. Right here, holding me.”

He smiled back at her, but there was regret in his eyes. Jack had been a bastard to her in the past, and Briar knew that now he wished he could undo the hurt he'd caused the woman he—gag—loved. He shouldn't. He'd been being honest. He was who he was. At least, he used to be. Briar wasn't sure who the hell he was anymore.

“Everything happens for a reason,” Roxy said. “You two wouldn't be as good together now if you hadn't been through what you have.”

“Maybe not,” Topaz whispered.

“Always the philosopher, aren't you, Roxy?” Seth asked.

Roxy sent him a wink, and everyone smiled in a sickening, whimsical way that made Briar think vomiting might be in order.

“Are we going inside or what? Castle Kissy-face has been sitting empty long enough, and I'm craving a little me time.” She shot Topaz a look. “I'm assuming I get my own room.”

“A whole suite, if you want,” Topaz said. “The more space we put between you and the rest of us, the better.” She held Briar's eyes as she said it, and there was a hint of humor in her eyes. “Grumpy bitch,” she added.

Before she could stop it, a smile split Briar's face, and she wished someone would slap it off. She bit it into submission, but it was too late. They'd all seen. Damn.

“I don't want you to be by yourself, Briar,” Crisa said. “I want to be with you.”

Briar closed her eyes and thought,
Jeez, Topaz, I need a break from her.

I hear you,
Topaz replied, speaking mentally to her alone.
There's a two-bedroom suite in the west wing. Would that work for you, do you think?

I don't think I could pry her any farther from me than that with a crowbar. Do you?

Doubtful. I can't figure out what the hell she sees in you, though.

Fuck you, Topaz.

You're welcome.

She damn near smiled again, but she averted her face this time, just in case it showed in her eyes.

Topaz inserted the key and opened the great big, ornate, expensive doors. A vaulted foyer spread out before them like something out of a fairy tale, and they all trooped inside.

“You all want the grand tour now or later?” Topaz asked.

“I want my room and a stein of warm blood,” Briar said.

“Fine, we'll do that. The rest of you, feel free to wander around. Pick out a bedroom, if you want. They're all vampire-friendly.”

“How, with all these windows?” Vixen asked. She wore an excited look as her gaze took in one thing after another. The furniture, the chandelier, the fireplace, the paintings, the sculptures, the marble floor.

“They automatically darken when the sun comes up,” Topaz explained. “The tint is so dark it's opaque. Perfect for our kind.”

“Every window in the place?” Vixen asked.

Topaz nodded, and Briar said, “Must have cost a bundle.” Then she sent Topaz a look. “My room?”

“This way. Come on, Crisa, you can come, too.”

Crisa looked at Briar as if seeking permission. Briar nodded at her. “Yeah, come on. Whatever.”

The girl's smile was bright, and the three of them moved through the foyer and started up the stairs.

But on the third step, Crisa screamed. It startled Briar so much that she damn near jumped out of her skin, but then, even as she turned to the nutcase, she felt it: a tearing, ripping pain deep inside her head. She grimaced against it. Crisa pressed her hands to her head, sobbing softly as she sank to her knees.

And then Reaper was there, right beside them, followed immediately by Roxy.

“Crisa? Crisa, what's wrong?” Reaper demanded.

Briar held herself erect on the step just above them.

“It's the headache again,” she said, and she hoped her voice didn't sound strained. “It's hitting harder this time.”

“We'd best get her into a bed, Reaper,” Roxy said.

Reaper bent and scooped up the trembling, sobbing girl.

“This way,” Topaz called, trotting up the stairs more quickly now. Reaper caught up to her, while Briar and Roxy followed right behind.

Roxy put her hand on Briar's arm. “You too, yes?”

“I'm fine.”

“The hell you are. You're holding your jaw so tight, I'm surprised you haven't broken a tooth.”

“If I did, it would grow back during the day sleep.”

“You're in pain, Briar.” Roxy frowned, as they made their way up the stairs, more slowly than the trio ahead of them. “It's not part of her…condition, then, is it?”

“What do you mean?” Briar asked.

“Whatever is happening to Crisa…is happening to you, too.”

Briar averted her eyes. “Maybe. I don't know.”

“I think it is. And I think this bond between you two is more powerful than just what would come from sharing blood. I think it's…deeper.”

“Oh, hell, what are we, sisters separated at birth, then?”

“You know what I'm saying, Briar. For every vampire there's one of the Chosen with whom the natural bond is even more potent. I think Crisa is that one for you, even though she's already one of us. I think she's your…
chosen
. Chosen.”

Briar grimaced. “Insightful as all hell, Roxy, but otherwise, a useless piece of speculation.”

“Maybe it'll be worth something later. For now, I'm going to do some Reiki on you, see if I can get this to ease up a bit.”

Briar shook her head. “Work on her first.”

They'd reached the top of the endless staircase and were heading down a hallway lined with doors now, but Roxy stopped and stared at Briar.

“What?” Briar snapped.

“You care about her. You do. You
care
about her!”

“Oh, Jeez, don't go breaking out the violins there, Pollyanna. If I'm feeling her pain, then the best way to end it for me is to end it for her. I'm thinking about me. Number one. Always.”

“Oh,” Roxy said softly. She started walking again, but this time, she did so with one hand touching Briar's upper arm. Not holding it, just touching it. “Thank you for clearing that up. I'd hate to go thinking you had a heart.”

“God forbid,” Briar told her, and she sidestepped enough to break physical contact with the woman. Then she hurried the rest of the way along the hall, ignoring her own pain, and ignoring, too, the high-gleam shine of the rich hardwood on the floor, which matched that of the stairs and the curving banister. She ignored the art on the walls, probably original, in the Renaissance style she might have chosen herself. She ignored the elaborate stands, and the vases and sculptures they bore, each one echoing some image in the nearest painting, like the sculpted raven on a stand in front of
The Magic Circle,
by Waterhouse.