Angel's Pain (9 page)

“So why didn't you walk away?”

“Same reason you haven't, I guess. I had a bond with Seth, once I shared the gift with him. Then, when we came upon Topaz, she didn't give us a choice but to take her along. We had no option but to rescue Vixen and Ilyana. And Roxy—well, hell, saying no to Roxy isn't really something anyone can do.”

She paused and turned to look him in the eye. “And what about me? You can't say you had no choice with me. You kidnapped me, held me by force.”

“We were planning to burn Gregor's headquarters and everyone in it. The alternative to taking you was to let you die.”

“You ever think I might have preferred it?”

He searched her eyes, her soul, until she had to look away. “Would you?” he asked.

She shrugged and started walking again. “Anyway, you're wrong about us being the same. You may be unable to walk away from your little dysfunctional family, but I'm not. As soon as Crisa is safe, I'm leaving.”

“By yourself?”

“Yes, by myself. What do you think I'm going to do, adopt her?”

He sighed but said nothing.

“You don't think I'll do it, do you?”

“I think it's something that's far easier said than done. That's been my experience, at least.”

She picked up the pace, feeling Crisa closer than before, and she called out mentally,
Crisa! Wait for me. I'm coming to help you. Just stop running, right now, and wait for me.

No! You'll make me go back!

And then she felt the girl's flight take on a new urgency. “Dammit, that was a mistake. Come on.” Reaching behind her without forethought, she clasped Reaper's hand and began running through the forest. “I never should have told her I was coming. She's running even faster than before.”

“We're stronger,” Reaper told her. “We'll catch up.”

They raced for several hundred yards, before emerging from the brush onto a barren slope that descended to pavement, a parking lot that surrounded a cluster of buildings: gift shops, a diner—a haven for tourists. There were several vehicles taking up spaces. And Crisa was nowhere in sight.

“Briar?”

“She's here. I know she is.” She felt Reaper's hand tighten on hers, a gesture meant to reassure her. All it did was remind her that she was holding on to him and make her wonder why. She immediately released her grip. He didn't try to stop her.

And then she spotted Crisa. She was climbing into the passenger side of a pickup truck with a male driver, and before Briar could shout that she absolutely forbade her to go, the truck pulled out of the parking lot and sped away.

“Dammit!” She lunged as if to run after the truck, but Reaper caught her arm, holding her back.

“You'll be seen. Besides, they'll be off the island in minutes, and if you can't catch them on foot in time—which you can't—they'll be even farther ahead. We're going to have to go back and get a vehicle.”

She lowered her head, sighing in frustration.

“We'll find her. She'll be okay.”

Raising her head, she met his eyes and narrowed her own. “Why are you
really
with me, instead of chasing down leads on Gregor?”

His lips thinned, and he shook his head very slightly. “Why are
you
chasing after Crisa instead of Gregor? I thought finding him was your top priority.”

“I told you, it's the blood bond. I don't have a choice.”

“Maybe I don't, either,” he said softly.

Briar rolled her eyes. “Don't be ridiculous. There's no bond between us.”

He was still staring at her, staring deeply into her eyes, and she didn't need to probe his mind to know what he was thinking. He was thinking that there
was
a bond between the two of them. He was thinking about that night when they'd had sex in a car on the street, and how explosive it had been, how intense. He was thinking
that
had bonded them, and he was wishing it could happen again.

Her throat went dry. She swallowed against it. “Let's go find a car.”

 

Crisa sat next to the man in the pickup and let her mind, blissfully silent for a moment, float back only a few minutes, to when she'd been stumbling through the forest, almost blinded by the pain in her head. She was being pursued. She knew it. Arms out ahead of her, she moved faster, even while trying to avoid the scratching branches and pummeling limbs in her path. It wasn't easy, with the boy's image in her mind's eye and the voice in her head that kept urging her on.

Come to me, Crisa. Come here. You must come here. Byram, Connecticut. Just come here. You know you have to do this. For the boy's sake, if not your own.

“Yes.”

Her face hurt. She was certain there were scratches on her cheeks and arms, and yet she barely noticed the pain, intent only on moving north. Always north.

And then, suddenly, the image and the voice in her mind vanished utterly, replaced by the certainty that someone was closing in on her from behind. No, not just someone.
Briar.
She realized it even before Briar spoke to her, told her to wait, that she was coming.

She couldn't wait. Briar would try to stop her from doing what she was compelled to do. She ran faster, bursting into preternatural speed, moving more rapidly than any human eye could detect. She stopped only when she burst from the trees into openness, and then stood still for a moment, fighting to get her bearings.

She was on a hill, the woods behind her. Below and in front of her there were buildings and people and…vehicles.

As a man emerged from one of the buildings, heading toward a blue pickup truck while fumbling with a set of keys, she jogged down the small hill toward him, smoothing her still wet hair as she went. “Hey!” she called. “Hey, mister.”

He turned in her direction, smiling, but his smile froze in place when he saw her. A frown came instead, and he glanced beyond her, then back again. “Are you all right? Do you need help?”

He was a sturdy young man, with thick dark hair and a whisper of shadow on his cheeks and jaw. He wore faded jeans and a red button-down shirt.

She stopped just two feet from him and nodded. “I need a ride. Do you have room?”

“Yeah. Sure. Here, hop in.” He opened the passenger door of his truck and looked, once again, beyond her.

She climbed into the truck and settled herself on the seat, as he stood there holding the door. He said, “You're soaked, and all scratched up. Are you sure you're okay? Did you have an accident or something?”

“I'm fine…but I'm, um, kind of in a hurry.”

He nodded. “Okay, then.” He closed the door, trotted around to his side of the truck and got in. Within another heartbeat, the vehicle was in motion. “You heading anywhere in particular?”

“North,” she told him.

He pulled onto the road, and soon they were picking up speed. “That's not very specific.”

“Connecticut.”

He smiled a little, then reached past her to flip open the glove compartment. He took a box of tissues from it and dropped it in her lap. “That's definitely more specific. I'm only going as far as Maryland, though.”

“Is that the right way?”

He looked at her a little oddly. “Yeah. Maryland is lots closer to Connecticut than you are now.”

She nodded, then frowned. “Will we get there before sunrise?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Good. Then I'll go with you to Maryland.” She plucked a tissue from the box and dabbed at the sore spots on her face.

“There's a mirror there, above the visor,” he said, flipping the visor down as he spoke to show her.

She flipped it back up again, a knee-jerk reaction so fast it made him jump. Vampires cast no reflection. And mortals must never know them for what they were. Rey-Rey had told her that countless times. It was ingrained in her, she guessed. It certainly hadn't come from practice. She'd had very little interaction with mortals since she'd been made over. Other than Roxy and Ilyana, and she'd only known them for the past several days.

The man was looking at her, then the road, then her again.

She covered her momentary panic with a false smile. “I must look a mess right now. I don't want to see how bad.”

His frown faded. “Actually, aside from a few scratches on your face and a twig in your hair—” he reached up to plug the offending bit of foliage from her bangs “—you look really pretty.”

Her fake smile turned into a real one. “That's nice of you to say.”

“Nothing but the truth. What's your name, anyway?”

“Crisa,” she told him. “Yours?”

“Bobby.”

“It's a nice name.” She settled back in her seat, feeling confident that Bobby posed no threat to her.

“Do you like music, Crisa?”

She nodded hard. “Yes, I do. I like all kinds of music.”

He reached over and pressed a button. A country song filled the pickup truck, and Crisa tapped her foot in time, leaned her aching head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

But the boy was right there waiting when she did. He looked lost and frightened, and she knew that he needed her, though she wasn't sure how she knew that. She also knew that if she followed that voice, the one telling her to come to Connecticut, she would find the boy.

So that was what she had to do.

T
opaz had a Benz and a Land Rover in her extensive garage. Roxy's van, Shirley, had joined them, as had Seth's Shelby and Jack's Carrera. The van was gone now. The note Roxy had left said that she and her team had decided to drive west to join the others in case the van with all its special features and equipment was needed. The other two teams had flown to their respective destinations.

Reaper missed his car, which had been annihilated by fire when one of Gregor's drones drove a tanker truck full of gasoline into it. That had only been a few weeks ago, though it seemed much longer.

He had no vehicle now. Shopping for one would be the first thing on his list, once Gregor was destroyed. It seemed as if this job was taking forever.

The Mercedes was a bloodred SL500, a hot car, but Reaper tempered his testosterone with a hefty dose of practicality and chose the Land Rover. It would be a lot more efficient if the terrain turned rough. God only knew how wild a chase Crisa would lead them on, though he couldn't imagine it would be very difficult or take very long to track her down.

Then again, he'd expected killing Gregor to be a fairly simple mission, too, and look how that had turned out.

“We'll take this one,” he said, opening the Land Rover's rear door and tossing his bag inside. He'd packed clothes, flashlights, a pair of tranquilizer guns with a few darts and not much else.

Briar's bag looked even lighter than his own. She slung it into the back without a word, then yanked open the passenger door and got in.

Reaper took his place behind the wheel and backed the vehicle out of the garage.

“You're going to have to guide me,” he told her as he turned the car so its nose pointed toward the road, then headed down the drive and through the gates at the end. The headlights were bright and cut through the darkness, though he didn't need them to see, even on the blackest of nights.

“North,” Briar said softly. “She went north.”

He turned right. “She must have talked that mortal into giving her a ride off the island. They'll have to take the bridge.”

Briar scanned the roadside as they passed. Shops, diners, one or two places to get gas and basics, lined the island's main road. The ocean was visible on either side, and there were several thickly wooded areas along the way.

“I wonder what they do when there's a hurricane here?” she mused as she sensed the night for signs of Crisa.

“Evacuate, I think.”

“I wouldn't like that.”

“
You
wouldn't leave.”

She looked at him sharply. “What makes you think so?”

“You're stubborn. You're tough. You're mean. You don't like to be inconvenienced. You'd take it personally, as if the storm threatening your home were a deliberate and pre-meditated attack against you, and you'd want to fight back.” Reaper shrugged. “Since you don't particularly care if you live or die, you'd have no reason not to.”

She blinked at his words. “You think you know me pretty well, don't you?”

“I was describing what I would do,” he said. “I have a feeling you'd react the same way.”

He waited, and when she didn't answer, he pressed, “Am I right?”

“No, because I'd never live here. It's not my style.”

“What
is
your style, Briar?”

She shrugged. “An alley. A park bench. Gregor's dungeon.”

“Those aren't real answers.”

“Whatever.” She sighed, and sat up straighter in her seat. “She's moving faster now.”

Reaper shot her a look, read the panic on her face, saw the way her eyes focused on nothing. Her gaze seemed to turn inward, and he knew her sense of Crisa was more powerful than his own could ever be.

“What, Briar? What are you getting?”

She blinked rapidly, seeming to draw herself back all at once, and then she shot him a desperate look. “She's getting farther and farther away.”

“They must be off the island. Probably on the highway, without the speed limits there are here.”

“Fuck the speed limits, Reaper. Can't this thing go any faster?”

He pressed down harder on the accelerator, passed a slow-moving hatchback. “I don't want some cop pulling us over.”

“Then don't stop if one tries.”

Yeah, that would be just brilliant, he thought, imagining a high-speed chase with a barricade of flashing lights and sirens eventually blocking their path. Helicopters and news crews. “We need to stay under the radar,” he told her. “Not draw attention to ourselves.”

Staring ahead, she lifted her chin. “They're still heading north.”

“Then that's where we'll go.”

Briar's gaze seemed to sharpen, her attention coming more fully back to the present. She stared at him.

“Tell me again why you came with me instead of going out to follow up on one of those leads on Gregor?”

“I already told you. Twice, if we're keeping count. Crisa's more important to me than catching Gregor.”

“Crisa's only been with us a few days.”

He tipped his head to one side. “You saying she's not more important to you, as well?”

She didn't answer, just crossed her arms over her chest and ignored his question.

“She's an innocent,” he said. “She would be more important even if she'd only been with us for a few minutes, Briar.”

“Pssh.”

It was a sound loaded with sarcasm. “What?” he asked.

“Oh, come on, Reaper. Tell the truth. The whole truth, for once.”

He slid his gaze her way, but only briefly. They were hitting the bridge now, and he had to pay attention to his driving. “That
is
the truth. But you're right, it's not the entire truth.” He swallowed hard, turned to look at her once again. “There's you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Crisa's important to you, whether you'll admit it or not. She's managed to touch a part of you that none of us could. And you're important to me, even though I don't have a clue why. I think she's good for you. I think you two need each other. So I want her back for your sake.”

She nodded slowly and didn't ridicule his confession, as he'd half expected she would. Maybe she appreciated the honesty. Hell, he didn't know.

“Why am I important to you?”

“If I knew, I'd tell you. Although, when I spoke to Rhiannon last night—”

“You spoke to Rhiannon?” She was clearly surprised. “Why?”

He frowned. “You asked me to try to contact Eric Marquand, to ask for his help. Rhiannon knows how to reach him.”

Again her gaze turned intense, focused inwardly as she digested that.

“Are you surprised that I did what you asked me to?”

Turning toward him just slightly, she said, “I guess I am.”

“It was a good idea, Briar. A really good idea.”

She nodded, not thanking him for the compliment.

“So what did she say?”

“She said she had a message for me. She didn't know what it meant, but she knew it was the answer to a question I had. And that answer was, ‘Because you think you can't hurt her.'”

Her heavy lids flew upward. “And what was the question?”

“The only one I'd asked recently was the same one you asked me before we went to bed this morning. Why did I want you?” He shrugged.

“So you think you're attracted to me because you think you can't hurt me?”

“Maybe.”

“Were you ever attracted to someone you…
did
hurt, then?”

He was silent for a long moment, battling the tide of memories that tried to rise within his mind. When he thought he had it dammed, he said, “Yeah. I did.”

She turned to face him fully, one leg drawn up on the seat between them, knee bent. “Will you tell me about her?”

He slanted her a sideways glance and spoke without hesitation or forethought. He said the words to her that he'd never said to another person, confessed what had never been confessed.

“Her name was Rebecca,” he said. “I loved her. And then I killed her.”

 

“You comfortable, kid?”

Derry asked the question even as he tossed Matt an extra pillow. Matt took it, tucked it on top of the one beneath his head, and relaxed on the bed in the skeevy motel where Derry had booked them a room.

“Sure. But I'll never sleep.”

“Why not? You still hungry?”

“How could I be, after the tacos and the pizza and the shakes?” Matt rolled his eyes. “I'm just not used to sleeping at night, is all.”

“Oh.” Derry sighed, nodding as if he understood, though Matt wasn't sure he could. For a whole year now, Matt had been living on his father's schedule. Sleeping days, living only by night. Today was the first day he'd been out in the sunshine for what seemed like ages. He'd enjoyed it, even once he'd figured out that he was more or less Derry's hostage. The guy was good to him. And it wasn't like he'd ever have much of a chance to hurt him. His father was going to tear this guy apart when he caught him. And he would. Matt just hoped to be long gone by then.

It was a shame. Derry seemed like a decent guy, except for being willing to kill him and all. After all, he hadn't liked the idea, when it crept into his mind. He really hoped he wouldn't have to do it. Matt knew that for sure.

“You've been up all day,” the soon-to-be-dead man said. “Maybe you'll sleep better than you think.”

“Maybe. Can I leave the TV on?”

“Sure. Listen, um…don't try to run off on me while I'm asleep, okay?”

“Shoot, where would I go?”

“Back to your father, I imagine. Just…just don't. Promise me, okay?”

Matt took a deep breath and sighed. Then shook his head.

“Why not?” Derry asked.

“'Cause I'm wondering if you're thinking about killing me unless my father does what you say. I'd be pretty stupid to stick around here, wouldn't I?”

Looking stunned, Derry sank onto the mattress. “What makes you think I'd kill you, Matt? Have I done anythin' to even hurt you up to now?”

“No.”

“And I'm not
gonna
hurt you, kid. I want to get you back to your mother.”

“Yeah, so you said. That would be a really good way to keep me from running off, though, wouldn't it? Telling me my mom's alive, and that you can help me find her?”

“I didn't lie about that.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Matt drew a breath, because his senses told him it was the truth. But he wanted to believe it so badly, maybe his senses were off. “If I learned anything from my father, it's that you just don't trust anyone. Not
anyone.
Not when you're like us.”

“Us?” Derry was puzzled, Matt could feel it in him.

“You're not like your father, Matt. You're not a vampire.”

Matt decided it wouldn't be smart to tell Derry that he
would
be one someday. His father had told him it was inevitable; that when he got older, it would be either that or death, and his father had no intention of letting him die. He'd said he would change Matt himself, just as soon as Matt was a grown man, just as soon as he was at his strongest, at his peak. That was how his father had put it. He said he wouldn't wait for Matt to get sick and weak. He would change him while he was young and strong. But not until he was a man.

Matt decided it wouldn't be smart to tell Derry any of that. So instead he just told him, “It doesn't matter. My father's gonna kill you for taking me. If you were smart, you'd ditch me somewhere and run as far and as fast as you can. 'Cause he's not gonna be happy when he finds you.”

 

“Her name was Rebecca,” Reaper said softly as Briar noted the shift in his tone. The intensity in his voice. The torture in his eyes. “I loved her. And then I killed her.”

She stared at him for a long moment, part of her dying to ask him more—who was this Rebecca? How had he killed her? But she didn't. Because that would suggest she was interested, when, in fact, she really didn't care. Besides, his face had taken on a closed-off expression, as if he regretted saying as much as he had.

“You want to tell me about it?” she asked, unable to stop herself.

“I just did.”

Message received, she thought.

Briar turned on the radio, found a driving rock song and cranked it up loud, partly to irritate Reaper and partly to distract herself. She wasn't the type to worry about anyone else. But she kept imagining the sorts of trouble Crisa could get into all on her own. And even with the music, those images wouldn't leave her alone.