Nightwalker (11 page)

T
akala ran for her life. She held Lilly's hand as they dashed toward the Eiffel Tower, sprinting for the steps. The tower's lights gleamed out into the darkness like thousands of beckoning eyes, guiding their way.

“This way.” Takala pulled Lilly toward the stairs, hearing pursuing footfalls getting closer and closer.

“No, this way.” Lilly jerked her forward to an elevator.

“No, Mom.”

“You never listen. We'll die! He'll catch us. I don't want you to die because of me.”

“I won't.” Takala felt the determination to keep her mother alive like an iron anvil expanding in her chest. “Come on, faster.”

Takala forced her mother to the stairs, past signs for the restaurants inside the tower. Up, up they ran, so many
flights. She couldn't breathe fast enough, couldn't catch her breath.

The footsteps behind them pounded louder still.

“Oh my God, he's going to get us,” Lilly said.

“No, he's not.” Takala reached a landing and pulled up short.

Striker blocked their way. He had the most evil leer she'd ever seen on any face, fangs exposed, eyes solid black. “You're here. Let me help.” He extended his hand.

“Don't take it!” Lilly pulled Takala back.

Footsteps stopped on the stairwell behind them.

Takala wheeled and saw Striker. Two Strikers. This one had his fangs bared, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. He said, “He's evil. Take
my
hand.
I'll
help you.”

Lilly screamed, “Never!”

The Striker in front of her commanded, “Takala, come with me.”

She felt a kind of tractor beam taking over her body, and she knew it was Striker's will. He forced her toward him. Her hand wasn't connected to her body; she couldn't vary the path. Any second she'd touch his fingers, and she knew something dreadful would happen. She trembled and shook as she tried to fight his power.

“Trust me,” he demanded.

Lilly seized Takala's hand. “No, you can't have my daughter!”

“She's mine already.” The Striker behind them grabbed Lilly and tossed her over the railing.

Takala still had a death lock on Lilly's hand; the weight of Lilly's body jerked her to the railing.

“Don't let go!” Lilly yelled up at Takala, thrashing against the metal tower railings.

Takala couldn't use her strength to pull Lilly up. What was wrong? All she could do was hold on. She felt Lilly's fingers slipping from her own. No, no, no!

Then Lilly was flying, screaming, her face contorted and bloated by the force of gravity sucking her down.

Takala screamed…

She felt someone shaking her, and Takala thrashed at them.

Suddenly her arms were trapped in a vise. She opened her eyes and stared into Striker's face.

Takala realized she was still screaming, and she closed her mouth, her heart hammering its way out of her chest, her body covered in perspiration. Striker held her so tightly she found it hard to breathe.

When she could speak, she said, “Let me go.
Now.
”

He backed off and dropped his arms. He looked wounded by the glare she was shooting him. “I heard you scream,” he said.

“I thought you needed permission to enter a room.”

“That's Hollywood. I go wherever I want.”

“Where's Lilly?” Takala scrambled out the opposite side of the bed from where Striker sat.

She realized she was wearing only her bra and panties when the cold air hit her skin. And to judge by the sudden fascinated expression on his face, he was enjoying the view. “Stop looking at me like that. Where's Lilly? I want to see her.”

“What is the matter with you? Are you going to let a nightmare turn you into a raving lunatic?”

“I just need to see Lilly.”

“I cannot let you do that.”

“Don't tell me what I can and can't do.” Takala was flinging clothes out of her carry-on. She found a pair of jeans and a sweater and slid into them; then she was pulling on her boots. His grin had vanished, but he was still devouring the sight of her as she said, “I need to know that she's okay.”

“I give you my word she's all right.”

“I have to see for myself.” Takala picked up a brush and quickly ran it through her hair, feeling his gaze following her every move.

“Who are you? You are not the same woman I left at the door three hours ago.”

“Who are you, underneath all that charm and the starched suits?” She paused, aware she might be going a little mad. But that dream. “I must see Lilly.” Takala headed for the door.

Striker was there in seconds, blocking her way. “I won't have my one lead to Raithe compromised because of you.”

She realized his irresistibly handsome face had more color in it; his lips were red instead of pink. He must have fed. Who did he have for dinner?

The thought irritated her as she said, “I won't tell her about you. I'll say I searched for her hotel and found her. I just need to make sure she's okay.”

“She is fine. I have agents watching her every move.”

“That's what you keep saying.”

“I will not argue with you about this, but I
will
let you see her.” He pulled out his cell phone.

One day he would see that she didn't need his permission. “How do I know this isn't a trick?”

“I could have made you believe it.” He shot her a superior look.

That's what he thought. She wasn't about to tell him that his hypnotic suggestions had no sway over her. She only stared hard at him and said, “All the more reason not to trust you.”

The purple of his eyes turned the color of coal. “Unfortunately, I am the only person you
can
trust.”

She searched his eyes and saw a depthless dark void that could pull her down into it in seconds if she let it. She heard herself saying, “All right. Let me see her.”

His eyes narrowed slightly in thought, then Lilly's likeness materialized on the one-inch screen. She was lying on her bed, watching television. Prevalent dark circles had formed under her eyes, and she looked weary.

“How does this work?” She motioned toward the phone.

“Crystal energy. All I have to do is think about her, and the image displays here.” He pointed to the small screen. “I wouldn't lie to you, Takala.”

“You would if I got in your way of getting Raithe. I think you'd lie to the devil to get Raithe.”

“How can I gain your trust?” he said, that confident glibness gone from his voice.

“You have to earn it.”

“I thought I had.”

“It'll take more than a few confidences and that charming vampire charisma you have.” Takala gulped, remembering how she'd opened up to him. He'd been
kind and patient the way he had listened and offered her advice. Up until now, he'd only been nice, aside from glamouring her and the arrogant way he bossed her around. It might be his suave way of manipulating her, too.

She stared long and hard at the image on the screen. Lilly had sneezed, and she was wiping her nose with a tissue. “Is another agent's phone image the same?”

He nodded.

“I'd like to see one.”

He flung open his phone and barked an order. Immediately a knock sounded at the door.

Takala answered it. Brawn paused at the door, eying them both as if unsure why he'd been summoned.

Takala said, “I need to see your image of Lilly.”

Brawn quickly pulled out his phone and showed her. Lilly balling up the tissue she had used and tossing it into a trash can. Two points. She smiled to herself.

Takala stared at the image for a moment. Then she felt satisfied. She said, “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Brawn nodded and left.

Striker said, “The sun sets in twenty minutes. Laeyar will be stirring.”

“We better hurry.” Takala grabbed her coat, then remembered something. “Hey, I want my gun back.”

“Look in your carry-on.”

Takala scrounged through the few rolled-up shirts and jeans she'd packed at the bottom of the bag and found the Glock. She checked the clip. Empty.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“I do not call keeping you safe a joke.”

“Hey, I have a permit to carry a concealed weapon.
I know how to use one.” She shook the gun and empty clip at him.

“Unless you have silver bullets, a gun is useless against the evil we are fighting. Your silver bracelets will keep you safer than that weapon.”

Takala knew arguing with a know-it-all, arrogant vampire was useless. She'd find bullets somewhere. She popped the clip back in and stuffed the gun in the holster she'd made for her left boot. The many silver bracelets on her wrist rattled and caused him to glower at her.

“You're still carrying it?” he asked.

“Feel naked without it.” She saw his gaze languidly comb her body as if he were trying envision her with no clothes. A tingling frizzed through her belly. She tried to ignore it while she stuffed her arms in her coat and flicked her hair out from beneath the collar. “You got a problem with it?”

“Not if you keep it concealed.”

“Don't worry, I only flash it around in a crowd.” She pursed her lips at him and stepped out the door, leaving him to glower at her.

 

“You are aware we're being followed?” Takala swiped lipstick across her bottom lip, then gazed to the right of her reflection in the passenger-side mirror. Yep, the two headlights were still there. The car had been following them since they left the hotel.

“Our backup,” he said.

“You could have told me.” She was actually glad they weren't alone. She hadn't looked forward to going into that tunnel with a bunch of hungry, angry vamps ready to pounce on the people who had set their food supply
free. When Takala thought about the humans lucky enough to have gotten free, it started her wondering how many others died like that, and how many other human restaurants they had hidden in Paris alone.

“You're on a—”

“Need-to-know basis.” She finished his sentence. “Hey, either I'm in or out. What's it gonna be?”

“Looks as if I have no choice but to let you in,” he said.

“Okay. I'm going to ask a question, and I'd like a straight answer.”

“Very well.”

“How many feeding warrens do you think Laeyar may have in Paris?”

“Hard to tell. Depends on how large a family he has to support. It could be one or more.”

“So he could be feeding an army.”

“Yes.”

Takala saw the victims again, and fear ground through her gut. “Do you know Laeyar?”

“We have a history.”

Takala didn't like the sound of Striker's voice when he'd spoken. There were so many shadows and shades of darkness looming below the words. “Why was he feeding this serpent shifter?”

“Using him for his own gain, no doubt. I've had recent reports of brothel owners in Paris disappearing. One was even attacked in his bed, claiming it was a monstrous snake.”

“So he was a hired killer?”

“Probably.”

“You think he worked for Laeyar or Raithe?”

“I am hoping both.”

“You think Laeyar will lead you to Raithe?”

“Nothing will be that easy when it comes to finding Raithe. I've hunted him for hundreds of years. He covers his tracks and evades me at every turn. I have no expectations that Laeyar is in Raithe's inner circle, for he allows very few into his confidence, and, if he does, he eventually kills them. So, to answer your question, no, but Laeyar might have information or know someone who is in contact with Raithe.”

Takala lapsed into silence and listened to the road noise strumming loud in her ears. She hadn't broached this subject yet, and since Lilly was caught between them, she needed an answer. “Why are you so obsessed with finding Raithe? I know it's got to be more than a State Department warrant. This thing is soul deep with you, isn't it?”

Striker's mouth hardened, and his cheeks looked deeper than usual. He wouldn't look at her, his gaze glued to the road. “I have never told anyone other than my priest.”

“Your what?”

“Father Sean O'Malley is a great friend.”

“He hears your confession?” Takala couldn't imagine any of the priests she knew hearing a vampire's confession. They'd probably die of a heart attack if one walked into their parish.

“Actually, we go to lunch on Fridays in the District, and we talk. It is a form of confession.”

“How did you meet?”

“Interesting happenstance, that. He was a vampire hunter, and I spared his life. He was so shaken by
my act of mercy, that a vampire could actually show compassion, he became a priest. I got an invitation to his ordination, and we've been friends since. His church is half a block from the B.O.S.P. office.”

A vampire and a priest, friends? “You astound me,” she said, meaning it.

“We are not all bloodthirsty villains as the Hollywood producers would have you believe.” He cocked a brow at her.

“Sometimes I wonder if
they
are vampires.”

“Some are.”

“Like who?”

“State secret.” His lips parted in a slow, easy smile that held just enough guarded secrecy to maintain his enigmatic mystique.

“Does one of them have a last name that starts with a T?”

He nodded.

“Hah, I knew it.” She realized he had skillfully managed to not tell her about Raithe, and she said, “So, Father O'Malley hears your confession. Do you have a lot to confess?”

“I try not to.”

“But don't you have to drink human blood to live?”

“I drink freeze-dried blood that my lab provides. The base comes from slaughterhouses.”

“Can't you drink from a human without killing them?”