Blood Judgment (Judgment Series) (10 page)

“No one knows anyone above their level except the person who recruited them and gives them orders. The people at the top know all the lower leaders and some recruits, but someone from the lower levels can’t talk if they’re caught because they don’t know anything.”

“That’s brilliant.” Julian was even more impressed. “So what’s Ashton like?”

“He’s a great guy,” Saranna said. “If he’s your friend, he’s the kind of person you want at your back.”

“And if he’s not your friend?”

“He will be unless you give him a reason not to,” Vali said. “Ashton’s level-headed, crafty, and good with weapons. Everything a leader should be.”

“How long have you guys been members?”

“Little less than two years,” Slade said. “That’s why Ashton hasn’t brought anyone in yet. He doesn’t trust all that easy. Not with something this big. Takes him a while to warm up to someone.”

“Look, see those fuckers?” Slade pointed to a dozen men dressed in black uniforms with red insignias on the sleeves. “Do you know what they are?”

“They’re like bounty hunters,” Julian said. It wasn’t exactly a secret that specially-trained officers were tasked with hunting down wanted vampires.

“Not exactly,” Slade said. “That’s what humans are told, but that’s not their function. Those are death squads. They’re hunter-killers. They do not take prisoners. They go after the ones the Security Center fuckers can’t catch with the help of their turncoat bastard Wolf Guards.”

“Holy fuck,” Julian said.

The group approached and several glanced over. Julian’s insides clenched and he tucked his hand close to his body, wanting to keep the brands out of sight.

“Don’t bother,” Slade said. “They know we’re vampires, but they aren’t interested in us. They’re hunting someone specific.”

“Poor bastard,” Julian muttered.

“Yeah, if those fuckers go after you, you’re in deep shit. I think most of them are ex-Special Forces.”

When the assassins jogged across the street and moved out of sight, Julian let out a pent-up breath.

“I see Ashton,” Saranna said.

Ahead of them, a large male leaned against a beat-up, ancient sedan. He flicked a hand up, but his eyes drilled Julian.

When they reached the car, Saranna motioned toward Julian. “Ashton, this is Julian. He’s staying with me and Vali.”

Ashton nodded in his direction. Julian returned the gesture and forced himself to remain still while Ashton gave him the once over.

He estimated Ashton at six-foot-four or five and somewhere over two hundred pounds of solid muscle.

Long dark hair fell over a heavy brow and down his back. He and Slade had dressed alike—leather pants, black tee, and combat boots. Except Ashton was a lot bigger than Slade and he looked a little older. Ashton exuded power. And menace.

Ashton’s arms were decorated with two of the most impressive tats Julian had ever seen. His right bicep was inked with a large, very-detailed tat of Odin—at least he thought it was Odin—astride a rearing horse. But it was the tat on his other bicep that Julian couldn’t take his gaze from, unable to decide if he was jealous or grossed out about the artwork.

Ashton’s second tat depicted flayed flesh with two black spiders climbing out of the wound. It was at once awesome and horrifying.

Ashton turned his attention to Slade, handing him an envelope which Slade shoved in his jacket pocket without opening.

Money? Julian bet so. Payday.

“We have orders,” Ashton said. “They want us to focus on those trader bastards and find out who their big buyers are. That’s the first thing. If we get the opportunity to kill some or all of those cocksuckers on the street, that’s all good too.”

Slade nodded. “I’m not surprised.”

“There’s more, but we’ll discuss it later.” Ashton pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. “I’m heading home. Why don’t you guys come along? I’d like to talk with your new friend.” He eyed Julian. “How about it?”

“Sure,” Julian said. “I’m game.”

They piled into Ashton’s car, Slade riding shotgun. Julian opened the rear door. A sword lay on the seat. “Do you fence?” he asked Ashton, picking up the weapon. Saranna slid in next to him and Vali climbed in beside her.

“Yes,” Ashton said. “And none of that pussy shit either. We use real swords and no protective duds. You don’t move fast enough, you get cut. Good coordination builder.”

“I guess so,” Julian said. Holy shit, these dudes were serious bad-asses. The sword was heavy and looked like it could inflict major damage.

Ashton snorted. “We live and play hard.”

Julian believed it.

“Let’s move it,” Ashton said.

Julian doubted the old clunker would make it up a steep hill until Ashton turned the key and the motor rumbled with power.

THE CAPITOL Hill residence Ashton and Slade shared impressed the hell out of Julian. Built long and rambling, the first floor had a lot of open space with a huge vaulted ceiling. A wide staircase led up to the second floor which stretched along the back half of the house. A wooden railing ran across the top floor instead of a wall, keeping the open feel.

The downstairs room featured a huge TV, four open laptop computers, a stereo system he didn’t doubt could crack the foundation, and plush, expensive furniture.

How in the hell did they afford the house, much less the furnishings? It was the polar opposite of Saranna’s little place.

“My father owns a lot of stock,” Ashton said as though he’d read Julian’s mind. “He didn’t want us living in a rat hole. I think he suspects we might be involved with the Resistance.” He shrugged. “I didn’t turn it down.”

“I guess not.” So far, Julian couldn’t tell if Ashton was going to be a bigger version of Slade. He would prefer to get along with her family since avoiding them would be almost impossible. Determined to make a good impression on his host, Julian looked for the best place to park himself.

Saranna settled on the sofa and motioned for Julian to sit beside her. Grateful for the invitation, he sank into the soft cushion, careful to keep a respectful distance from her.

Slade looked as if he might horn in between them. Instead, he stalked to a matching recliner. A white ferret materialized from under the chair and climbed his outstretched leg.

He scooped the animal up and placed it on his shoulder, where it burrowed under his longish hair and lay down. Slade rubbed its head with obvious affection.

Ashton seated himself across from the sofa. “So.” His gaze burned into Julian and he got right down to business. “You were a cross-breed?”

“Yes.”

“Your mother or your father?”

“Wasn’t my mother. I don’t remember my father.”

“You know anything about him?”

What did his lineage have to do with anything important? “I know his name, but that’s about all. My mother wouldn’t talk about him.” She might not have talked about him, but he was never out of her thoughts. She’d gone to her grave loving the bastard who’d abandoned them.

“What did you do before you were turned?” Ashton looked bored, but it was a façade. Cunning intelligence blazed in his eyes.

“Played in the Symphony.”

Ashton quirked up an eyebrow. “Instrument?”

“Violin.”

“Christ, he’s not only pretty, he’s a classical musician.”

Julian lurched forward on the sofa. “What the fuck’s wrong with being a musician? You think playing violin is easy?”

“Stop it, Ashton. Why are you picking on him?” Saranna’s voice had gone sharp.

“I’m not picking on him. I want to know who and what he is. You’ve brought him into our fold and allowed him to learn that we’re with the Resistance. He owes us that much.”

Julian had a sudden cold feeling that if Ashton didn’t like him or if he answered a question with a wrong answer, he might not have to worry too much about the future.

Ashton resumed his interrogation. “Where were you schooled in music?”

“Juilliard.” He didn’t hide the pride in his voice.

“Who paid for that?”

“My father left enough that my mother was able to send me to a good school.”

“So, Daddy was loaded. What about your mother? She sitting on a stockpile?”

“She’s dead.”

“Why didn’t she leave you set up?”

“She let her insurance lapse and she got sick.” He shrugged, but hoped Ashton would drop it. Watching cancer consume his mother wasn’t something he wanted to revisit. “There was barely enough left to bury her.”

Saranna moved closer. “Leave him alone. He’s been through enough without his own kind giving him shit.”

His hands clenched into fists, though he shouldn’t have expected any different. He wasn’t one of them. He was only half what they were. He knew too much about them. And if they had any clue of the person he’d been… But they didn’t and he would take the guilt to his grave. “It’s all right. I’ll tell him whatever he wants to know.”

“Look,” Ashton said. “I want to know who he is. I’ve nothing against him. Hell, when I get to know him, maybe we’ll be friends.”

Had he passed the first round that quickly?

“Julian, I’m direct. I won’t piss around with you or anyone else.”

Julian nodded though he wasn’t sure what to think of Ashton or the precarious situation just yet.

Saranna’s hand brushed his leg in a comforting gesture. He shot her an annoyed glance.

Ashton’s lips curled up at the corners. He hadn’t missed Saranna’s move or Julian’s response. He suspected Ashton approved.

“There was another half-breed in the community who went to Juilliard, a violinist, about your age… Maybe you knew him. Michael Foster? I understand he was talented.”

Julian’s stomach plummeted. “I … may have heard the name. It’s a big school.” It wasn’t
that
big of a school but he doubted any of them knew it. At least he hoped not.

“He committed suicide.”

“Oh, yes. I heard about him,” Julian said a tad too quickly. He glanced at Saranna and caught Slade staring at him.

“His parents had such hopes for him,” Ashton said. “I didn’t know them, but it was a big story in the community.”

“Oh.” Julian’s heart thumped against his ribs in a guilty tempo. He hoped like hell Ashton didn’t hear it.

“It was a real tragedy.”

“I … that’s awful,” Julian said. Slade was still focused on him.

“It was.” For a moment Ashton didn’t speak. Then he said, “What do you know of the Resistance?”

“Not much. Just what most humans know.” He gave Ashton a quick rundown.

“The Resistance is young,” Ashton said. “Not even five years old yet. But we’ve hit the bastards hard enough to draw blood and we’ll get better at it with time.”

Julian didn’t doubt that a bit.

“Do you know the event that triggered it?” Ashton asked.

“No. I don’t.” Should he know this? He felt like he was getting a pop quiz and failing miserably.

“Remember when the County Offices Building burned?”

“They did that?”

“No, but the ones who did caused the Resistance to form. There were eight males. All young and inexperienced. They pulled it off, but they didn’t get away with it.”

No shock there. The only shock was that they were successful in the first place.

“There were only a couple human casualties, but they decided to make an example of the vampires who were responsible. They were hunted down and killed. The bodies were photographed and the pictures made public.”

“I remember seeing them on the news.” At the time Julian had thought it was a good thing that they’d been captured and killed. His throat clogged with a lump of guilt that had crept up and now blocked his windpipe.

“It didn’t stop there. The families of those young males were all killed. Every one of them, males, females, children, whether they knew anything or not, they were rounded up and slaughtered like animals.”

“Holy shit.”

“The Resistance was born in retaliation. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

“I didn’t know their families were killed.”

“Very few humans outside of the government know that. After all, they can’t be seen as
bad guys
. They’d be afraid more humans would jump on the Red Rose wagon and they sure as fuck don’t want that.”

“So what do you guys do?” Julian asked.

“Whatever needs doing—ambushes, sabotage, raids, harassment. We help out our people whenever and however we can. Sometimes we play Robin Hood, other times we’re General Sherman. We do what no one else will or can. Simple as that.”

“Anyway,” Ashton said. “This isn’t a game. This is life and death, serious business. I’m trusting you to keep your mouth shut about this. You get me?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” He’d made it past Ashton. “I have a question.”

“Hit us with it.” Ashton steepled his fingers.

“Where did we come from?”

Saranna arched a well-defined eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“He means, how can vampires exist? Right?” Ashton settled deeper in his chair.

“Yes.”

“No one knows for sure. But I think one theory is the most probable. Do you know what apocryphal means?”

“Books not included in the New Testament.”

“That’s right. Ever heard of the Book of Enoch?”

“Yes, but I don’t know anything about it.”

“Some believe a number of passages reveal that vampires might have originated from Watchers, fallen angels who mated with human women.”

Why not? At this point he was open to almost anything.

“Their offspring weren’t human and they drank blood to survive. I believe those are the creatures we’re descended from.” Ashton shrugged. “It’s the most logical explanation I’ve ever heard. But who knows?”

The theory rang true enough for Julian.

Chapter Nine

THE NEXT week passed quickly and Julian fell into a routine set by Saranna’s work schedule at the club. He and Vali were becoming friends, passing the hours she was away by trolling the neighborhood and horsing around together.

Vali may have been a bit younger, but he was streetwise, intelligent, and enjoyable to be around. He had a knack for lifting sagging spirits and making Julian’s reality seem a lot better than it had a mere week before. And now that he was free of infection and with his injuries mostly healed, he felt a hell of a lot better physically.