Demon's Kiss (27 page)

Everyone turned to look at him. He shrugged. “Boxcars make good beds. No windows. I've used them before, in a pinch. Not exactly five-star accommodations, but—”

“Do
not
trust that man,” Seth said.

Reaper narrowed his eyes on Jack, wondering if he was a good enough con to set them all up for another attack by Gregor. And that was when Topaz spoke, her lips moving slowly, her voice weak. “You can trust him,” she said.

Jack looked more surprised than anyone else in the vehicle.

“Not with your hearts, but…yeah. With your lives, he's okay.”

“I agree with her,” Vixen said.

Jack's apparently stunned expression grew even more amazed.

Reaper nodded. “Jack, climb up front and give Roxy directions, if you would.”

Jack made his way to the front, and once he'd gone by, Reaper moved to the back and sat where Jack had been, beside Topaz. He stared down at her, afraid to touch her, unsure how to begin.

She opened her swollen eyes. “I owe you a kick in the balls,” she said. Her voice was strained. “Remind me when I'm feeling better, will you?”

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I don't know what I can do to make this up to you, princess, but I promise, I will.”

“Oh, you are
damn
right you will.” She lifted a hand, closed it around his. It was ice-cold, her grip weak, and she was trembling. “I know it wasn't you,” she whispered.

“That doesn't make it all right. I put you all at risk by letting you come along with me on this mission in the first place. I never should have done that. I knew better.”

“We were forewarned. We made a choice.”

“She's right,” Seth said. He was in the center seat, leaning over, listening in. “You gave us all the information, even armed us so we could shoot your sorry ass if you got out of line. We can choose to leave if the reality is too scary for us.”

Reaper lowered his head, certain that it wasn't a choice he would or could give them. It was his choice, his responsibility. If he killed one of them next time—hell, how would he live with that?

He realized with no small measure of surprise that he'd come to care about these misfits. In spite of himself.

“We're vampires,” Seth went on. “Maybe not as old or as wise or as strong as you. Maybe not as experienced or as tough as you. But we're vampires, Reaper. Immortals. The undead. We have as much right to make our own decisions, take our own risks, as anyone else. As much right as Damien himself. As much right as the oldest, the first.”

Reaper nodded as if he agreed. He didn't, but they would only argue if he tried to reason with them. Turning, he glanced through the windshield at the sky. “How long before we get to the freight yard?” he asked.

“Ten minutes,” Jack said. “Give or take.”

“Good. We have just under an hour until dawn.” Then he closed his eyes. “I wonder where…”

“Gregor is?” Seth asked. Then he grinned. “I'd have damn well loved to see his face when he walked into that club, expecting to find us all dead and you out of your mind, exhausted or unconscious, just waiting for him to take you. And instead he found us all gone, and a few dozen bullet-hole-riddled drones littering the sidewalk.”

“And a few more torn to shreds by Vixen's friends,” Roxy added with a laugh. She met Reaper's puzzled eyes. “We can explain that later,” she said.

Reaper hardly noticed what she said, because he hadn't been wondering where Gregor was at all. He'd been wondering about Briar. Had she made it back to that black-hearted bastard? Was she even now curling into his arms?

Having sex with him? Drinking from him? Letting him drink from her? Kissing him?

The thought damn near sent him into a brand-new frenzy. And that made him angry, because dammit, he didn't want to give a shit about her.

She was treacherous, and she was deadly.

And he wanted her more than he wanted to wake up at sundown.

 

The boxcars didn't offer much in the way of privacy. Not that Vixen thought it really mattered anymore. Seth, however, seemed to have other ideas.

As the others were claiming their space in the forty-foot-long-by-ten-foot-wide metal box, Vixen reached for the handle to pull herself up and in. Seth stopped her, a hand on the small of her back to get her attention.

She jumped and looked back at him, startled by the contact.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you.”

“I'm tense and jumpy after…after all that death back there. It was—”

“I know.”

She nodded. “So many innocent lives, just snuffed out. And for no reason. Why didn't he just clear the place out? Why kill them all?”

“You heard Jack's theory. Gregor wants to convince the world—the undead world, at least—that Reaper is no better than he is. That he murders the innocent just as brutally, just as carelessly.”

“But how would that benefit him?”

Seth shrugged. “Until we know what he's after, we can't even guess. But I don't want to talk to you about that.”

“No, I don't suppose you want to talk to me at all.” She lowered her eyes, nodded once and turned to reach for the handle again. It was high above her head. She didn't really need it; she could have jumped. She just didn't feel moved to expend a single ounce of energy. She felt dead inside. Like the mortals littering the floor of The Crypt.

“I do, actually. I think…I think we need to talk.”

“I don't think I can.”

He frowned. “I want to know about you, who you are. What you are, or were. What it means. You know?”

“No, you don't.”

He frowned at her. “Yes, I do. You…you called in the help of the animals back there. You saved our asses by doing it. And you risked your neck for me.”

She shrugged. “It was no risk. I could have shifted and run away before any of those clumsy drones could have touched me.”

“Now
you're
lying.”

She shot him a glare.

“I saw you change, remember? It took a few minutes. They would have killed you before you changed completely.”

Sighing, she turned to face him fully. “Fine. I'll tell you what I am. Or what I was, anyway. I was a human who was possessed by the spirit of the fox, my totem, in a way far beyond what is normal, as were my mother before me and hers before her, and on and on. My great great great grandmother was full-blooded Iroquois. Daughter of the chief of her tribe, whose family totem was the red fox. My great great great grandfather was a Scot, blood and bone, of the clan McFarland. His family crest bore the face of a fox. And since the days when those two reproduced, the firstborn female of every generation has had the gift.

“And it
is
a gift, Seth, though it might seem a curse to you.”

He lowered his head, seeming ashamed. “So you really
are
human.”

“No,” she said. “I'm a vampire. Now.”

“But before…”

She closed her eyes. “Human, yes. But not by choice.”

He closed a hand around her shoulder, turned her to face him. “Explain that to me. Come on, let's sit a while.”

“We don't have much time.”

“We have a little.” He led her to a nearby handcar, took a seat.

Reluctantly, she perched beside him, but on the very edge, her toes touching the ground, knees bent, hands braced. She was ready to spring up and run.

He'd hurt her. She didn't like that kind of pain, emotional pain. She wasn't used to it, didn't understand it. She only knew for certain that she never wanted to feel it again.

The night was waning. Crickets and frogs chirped, and the cool breeze chilled her, though not in the usual way. She felt cold, but no discomfort.

“You said you were human, but not by choice,” he prompted.

She nodded. “I've always preferred the company of animals to that of people. I've always loved my time as a fox far more than my time as a woman. Human emotions seemed foolish to me. All heat and anger, joy and sorrow. All pain and pleasure. No balance, no common sense. Just a roller coaster of dizzying highs and heartbreaking lows and sudden twists and turns you could never anticipate.”

“And life as a fox?”

“Oh.” She sighed, and she felt her shoulders relax a bit, and her lips curve into a smile. “So much better. It's logical, you know? It's about finding enough to eat, avoiding enemies, hunting, playing and being warm and comfortable. It's about using your senses, paying attention, listening and watching and scenting the air. It's about being wild and free. Free of so much, of worry, of stress. You don't worry when you're an animal. What happens, happens. It's nature.”

He nodded slowly, and said, “I see,” but she didn't think he possibly could.

“So I spent as much time as I could in that form. Several hours every day. I lived among the wild things, far more than anyone else in my family ever had. I learned to communicate with them. But I couldn't be one with them, because I didn't belong. I didn't feel I belonged with people, either. So when I was in human form, I kept to myself. I avoided others. Relationships. Complications. Worry. I tried to live the way my friends in the forest lived. Without worry or fear or highs and lows. Just surviving and taking as much comfort as possible in every day, every hour, every moment.”

“And how has that changed?”

She shifted her gaze. It had ostensibly been directed at the sky, but in reality it had been turned inward. She hadn't been seeing anything other than the past as it unfolded behind her eyes. Now she looked at him. And she thought he was truly listening.

“The longer I spent in fox form, the stronger I became. The stronger I became, the longer I could maintain the form. The easier it was to shift. By the time Gregor found me, I was able to spend around six hours each day as a fox. Some days, I could even manage four hours in the morning and four more in the evening.”

“How did he find you?”

She lifted her brows. “I got caught in a trap while chasing rabbits near his mansion. I didn't know I was one of the Chosen. He must have felt me near, known instinctively I was in trouble and come to my aid, as every vampire is compelled to do. But instead of a human, he found a wounded fox. And yet he felt it, that I was one of the Chosen. So he took me back to the mansion, held me in a cell, and watched and waited. And when I changed back, he saw, and then he knew.”

Seth was nodding very slowly. “And then what happened?”

She averted her eyes, turning her head away, getting to her feet. “He changed me. That's all. The rest you know.” She swallowed hard. “Since the change, I've been weaker. I can only manage to shift forms a few times a week. And I can only maintain my fox shape for an hour or so. I've found I can go out in daylight as a fox, without harm. But if I changed back while exposed to the sun, I'm certain I would go up in flames.”

He got up, too. “I'm sorry, Vixen. I mean it. I'm sorry you lost something so precious to you, but more than that, I'm sorry I reacted the way I did to learning your secret. I…I'd like another chance.”

“I wouldn't,” she said without looking at him. And then she started walking back toward the railroad car.

He ran to catch up, caught her by the forearm, turned her to face him. “Wait a minute. What do you mean?”

“With you, Seth, I experienced those emotions I've avoided all my life,” she told him. “And do you know what I ended up feeling most of all?” She watched his face, waited for him to answer. When he didn't, she went on. “More than desire, more than passion, more than love and longing and need, I felt pain. And it was far worse than the pain of the collar I wore for Gregor, when Briar's sadistic nature made her press the button and send shocks through my body. It was far worse than the pain of having my leg bitten almost in two by the teeth of a cruel trap. It was the most crippling, most horrible pain I have ever felt in my life. And you inflicted it on me.
You,
Seth. When you rejected me.”

“I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry.”

She shrugged. “Being sorry doesn't take it away. It's a fresh wound, Seth, but one I'm certain will leave a vivid scar. It's not something I can ever forget. And it's definitely not something I ever want to feel again. For you to say ‘give me another chance' is as if Gregor were saying to me, ‘give the collar another chance, Vixen. It won't hurt this time. I promise.'” She held Seth's eyes, though his image became distorted through her tears.

“No, Seth,” she whispered. “I'm afraid I can't give you another chance to hurt me that way again. You or…or anyone else, for that matter.”

“I swear to God, I'll never hurt you like that again.”

She smiled very gently, lifted a hand to touch his cheek and whispered, “I know you won't.”