Hunter's Rise (29 page)

Had to be something important. But, he was bothered by the scent of blood in the air.

Angel’s.

Shit. What in the hell…?

The buildup of electricity in the air was enough to have his wolf snarling. Sighing, he headed for the chest of weapons he stored. He’d only made it about two feet when Kel appeared in his living room.

“Do me a favor. Don’t teleport into my house without letting me know first,” he advised as he crouched in front of the chest. Kel had picked up that handy little skill early. Too early.

“Why was Angel here and why do I smell her blood?” The single-minded obsession, however, wasn’t anything new. Kel had always been focused completely on his woman.

“I don’t know.” Toronto pulled out a modified Glock and loaded it. Hollow silver bullets in that one. The baby Glock had regular bullets. He added a couple of knives, ranging from just a little larger than his palm to almost as long as his forearm, tucking them into various sheaths. “It’s not my job to keep up with your wife, Kel.”

“Toronto…” Kel’s voice was a low, deadly whisper.

Rising, Toronto met the vampire’s stare. It was hard, cold and held a lot of power for a vampire as young as he was. Under it, Toronto saw the fear and because he did, he didn’t let the threat he heard in Kel’s voice trigger the anger whispering just below his skin. “Listen, kid, I don’t know. But your wife isn’t an idiot. She came looking for the merc I’m… working with.”

“Merc.” Kel’s eyes narrowed. “James. You’re not supposed to be
working
with her. You’re supposed to be getting your hands on Pulaski.”

“My best bet of getting my hands on Pulaski is working with her.”

“And if she kills him?”

Toronto smiled. “We’ve made a deal about that. Now are you going to come with me while I track her and your girl down or are you going to stand there and yap the night away? If you’re yapping, have fun talking to the walls.” With that, he slammed the chest shut.

Once he was outside, he tipped his head back and checked the air. Not as easy to trail them once they’d gotten into the van, but he could do it. If it had just been Sylvia, it would be harder. If it had just been Angel, it would be harder.

But the two of them together… especially since Angel had decided to go and do some bleeding in his house… and she hadn’t covered the wound all that well.

Toronto wasn’t drawn to blood the way vamps were, but he sure as hell could use it to track. Eyes closed, he dragged the scents deep inside, let them rest on the back of his tongue.

“She was still bleeding when they left,” Kel whispered.

Toronto opened his eyes and looked at the younger man. “You better lock it down if you want her found right now. Otherwise the stink of your anger is going to get in my way.”

Kel flashed fang at him, eyes glowing in the coming twilight. But then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Once he looked at Toronto, he wore a mask that was almost human and had managed to shut down the fury flickering inside him.

“Find her.”

“W

Night had fallen.

Actually, it had fallen quite some time ago and Angel had driven through the darkness without speaking much.

Now they were parked in front of a house overlooking the rolling waters of the Mississippi. “Wonderful,” Sylvia said quietly as she slid out of the back, studying the house. “Just one question… where is
here
?”

“A little outside of New Madrid, Missouri.”

“Missouri.” Sylvia stared at the house as foreboding settled over her shoulders like a cold, slippery cloak. Two hours driving. “Okay, you want to tell me why we drove about a hundred and twenty miles? There’s nobody
here
.”

“I know.” Angel slanted a look at her from under her lashes. “He’s gone. So is the guy he’s with. But he was here. I don’t know what you’re going to find in there, but you needed to come here.”

“Shit.” Sylvia popped her neck and looked back at the house. “No wonder Hunters don’t like you psychics. You’re irritating as hell.”

“Yes.” Angel’s eyes held a far-off look. “The boys… who were the boys, Sada?”

*  *  *

S

He was screaming.

She could hear him—

Those desperate, desperate pleas were faint though. It was like she heard them through a dream. Through somebody else’s ears, perhaps.

Although considering how her heart raced, how her heart thundered in her ears, it was hard to believe she could hear anything. Hungry, so hungry. It was a ravenous beast in her belly and it had been for days. Weeks—

And then all was silent. Sated, replete, she rested.

But her blissful peace did not last long. A low, pleased laugh drifted through the small room that was her prison and she jerked upright, staring out into the hall at her captor. He watched her with cruel, cold eyes, and on his mouth, there was a cruel, cold smile.

“I warned him,” he told her.

She swallowed. The taste of blood lingered in her mouth and she could have shuddered—it was so sweet, and already she craved more.

“Warned who?”

“The boy. But he wouldn’t stop trying to get down here.” He glanced at something on the floor.

And although she wanted to fight the urge to look, Sada couldn’t stop herself.

A scream tore from her throat as she saw him lying there. The boy.

Pale, still… and his throat was a ragged, bloody mess.

She lunged for him while out in the hall, her captor laughed.

Then he swore…

“S

“Don’t call me that,” Sylvia whispered, shrugging Angel’s hand away.

Sada no longer existed. She’d died that day in the cell. Those blue eyes haunted her. The promises to help. Pleas for
forgiveness— now
she
was the one who wanted to beg for forgiveness, except she didn’t deserve it.

“You were starved.”

Ignoring Angel, she stormed toward the house. It smelled of vamp. Cool, musky and of the earth. And there was something more, too. Death. Blood— coppery, old and thick with fear. People had died here.

“You were starved, all but driven mad with hunger— tortured. You were a new vamp. You can’t be held responsible for what happened.”

“Yes.” Sylvia stopped on the steps and turned, staring at the woman standing there in the moonlight. “I can. I don’t buy into this ‘
it’s not my fault, somebody forced me to, it’s my mother’s fault, it’s my father’s, the little blue elephant made me do it
’ crap.
I
did it. I wasn’t strong enough to control the hunger and I broke. I killed.”

“
You
were tortured,” Angel said quietly. “By a monster.”

“We’re
all
monsters.” Sylvia curled her lip.

“Not all.”

“You actually believe that.” She stared at the woman, wondering if there had ever been a time when she’d been like that. This woman actually believed there was something good inside those who’d ceased to be human.

“Yeah. I do.” Rocking back on her heels, she shook her head. “If you were just a monster, you would have spent the past century or whatever you’ve got under your belt killing. Hell, you would have come after me earlier. But you didn’t.”

Angel shifted her gaze past Sylvia’s shoulder, staring at the door. “You want to find Pulaski, you’re going to have to face something from your past. You up to that?” Then she turned. “I need to go. This will be easier without me here, I think. You don’t want me seeing all the shit that’s going to go through your head, and you’re not going to be able to block it out.”

By the van, she paused. “Tor’s on his way. You got maybe a half hour. If you don’t want him seeing you when you find it, you better hurry.”

“Find what?” The question came out in a faint whisper.
Sylvia had no doubt the woman heard. But Angel apparently wasn’t in the mood to answer.

Looking back at the house, Sylvia stared at it as foreboding wrapped her in its icy, slippery arms. Suddenly, she wanted very much to run. Forget the damn contract, forget that she’d given her word. Forget about the way Toby’s face haunted her. Forget her damned job and just
disappear
. Spend a few months relaxing on some night-dark, warm beach and sleeping the days away.

Face something from your past…

What in the hell was she supposed to face?

Walking up the steps to that house was one of the hardest things she’d done in quite a while, and she didn’t even completely understand
why
. It was an empty house. She wanted to tell herself it was because Angel had gotten her worked up. This was just a house… that was all, right?

Set on a knoll overlooking the river, made of wood and glass, it should have been a pretty sight. Huge windows dominated the place and in the daylight, all of that glass would sparkle under the sun. At night, a person could look out one of those many, many windows and stare at the expanse of the sky and stare at the stars.

Looking at it made her think of hell and suddenly, she
wanted
to wait for Toronto. She didn’t want to go in there alone. Not at all.

Brainless idiot—you’ve known him two days? Three? And now you can’t seem to even walk in a house by yourself.

Tugging out one of her blades, she whispered, “It’s not that I
can’t
.” She just didn’t… want to. Angel had gotten to her.

But it wasn’t going to stop her. Neither was the stink of vampires, blood and painful death— it clung to the house, a nasty miasma that felt like it was sinking into her very pores. Ignoring it, she stood in front of the door and steadied herself, braced herself.

She could do this.

Hell, Angel could even be
wrong
. The worst part of her past was
dead
… Harold, the man who’d made her, was dead. The bastard who’d tricked her into coming to America
was dead. The boys… yeah. They were gone, too— that poor, brave little fool who’d tried to help her, and his friend.

Just what was left that could haunt her?

“Quit stalling.”

The door was locked. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out her lockpicks and went to work. It took nearly three times longer than it should have and by the time she heard that telltale click, she was almost ready to just break the door down. Yet as she pushed it open, she knew that would have taken more than just a kick or two. The door was too heavy— reinforced. Eyeing the doorframe, she saw more telltale signs there. Somebody had done some serious work here.

Vampires hadn’t just settled down here for a night or two. This was a home to one, a safe place.

The reinforced door was just one sign. The walls were reinforced as well, and although there were all those lovely windows, the outer rooms were small, long and narrow, almost like a walled-in wraparound porch. Moving deeper into the house, she studied the inner rooms taking up most of the space— none of them had windows. A weird layout… unless the owners had issues with sunlight.

Once those outer rooms were closed, a vampire could wander these inner rooms all day long and not have to worry about burning. Assuming, of course, the vampire was strong enough to rise during the day. Sylvia usually didn’t rise more than an hour or so before sunset.

A whisper of power still lingered in the air. Whoever had lived here was stronger than she was— strong enough that the buzz of his power still hadn’t completely faded.

There was a familiar scent, too, one that tugged at something deep inside her. Familiar, but not— she couldn’t quite place it.

Strangely, it made her hurt, although she didn’t know why. It hurt, and it made her want to run.
Then get this done—get it done and you can run as fast as you want, all the way back to Memphis if it will make you feel better.
With that promise to herself in mind, she continued through the house, peering into rooms, searching for whatever it was Angel seemed to think she’d find here.

Boxes were neatly stacked in many of the rooms. Packing up. Or packed, rather. The boxes just needed to be moved.

She poked through a few of them, frowning. Books. A lot of them. Movies. Upstairs, she found more boxes— this time, it was clothes, neatly folded away.

Making her way back to the lower level, she stood there, breathing in the scents. Blood. Death. Not fresh. Where? Aimlessly, she roamed through the house, tracking it to where it was the strongest. In the hall. But nothing had died
here
—somewhere else…

Frowning, she studied the table placed at the end of the hall, just under a mirror set in an old oak frame. That mirror… oh, no. No. A fist grabbed her by the throat. Shit. Shit, no—