Taken by the Others (20 page)

I felt guilty for bringing trouble to his doorstep, but there wasn’t a whole heck of a lot I could do about it. We’d both have to hope that Devon would keep his word if he agreed to keep his mouth shut. God only knew what Royce would do to him if he didn’t. Or to me, for that matter. I’d led Devon here, after all. What an ancient vampire could think up for revenge if given reason enough didn’t bear dwelling on.

“Okay. I promise whatever I see while I’m here won’t make it back to the other hunters.” He took a breath, eyes narrowing slightly. “However, I won’t promise that I won’t use the information myself–just me–later.”

Royce stared at him a bit longer. I’m not sure he believed him.

“I swear,” Devon repeated.

“I sincerely hope you are telling me the truth,” he said, black eyes glittering with malice. For Devon’s sake, I hoped so, too. This time I kept my knee-jerk reaction under control when Royce turned back to me. “We can leave when your friend is back to himself.”

I gladly shifted my attention to Chaz, avoiding looking at Royce. “Are you going to be able to shift soon?”

He nodded that great, shaggy head, lip lifting silently from his teeth. Not once did he take his gaze off the vamp. The fur of Chaz’s scruff was standing on end like he’d been rolling on the carpet and was suffering from a bad case of static electricity. If not for the seriousness of the situation, his natural reaction to the proximity of a vampire would’ve looked funny.

As it was, I felt the same way.

Chapter 21

Royce didn’t complain, but I could tell by his expression and tone of voice he wasn’t thrilled when I asked for a place to change into my hunting gear. He showed me to one of the empty offices down the hall. I hoped the boys wouldn’t end up killing each other while I was gone.

This office was quite a bit smaller than his own, but just as tastefully appointed. Framed photos were scattered here and there on the desk, peeking past a phone blinking with messages and papers stacked half a mile high. In the pictures, a man, a woman, and a towheaded girl were all smiling, holding each other, and generally looking like a normal, happy family. Some of the photos were taken at the beach or the park, and all three of them were standing in the sunlight.

I did what I could not to think about the pictures, not to wonder what would make someone so normal want to work for vampires. It bugged me, and the thoughts stuck with me while I shucked off my jeans and sweater and switched them out for the matte black armor. Next I pulled on my boots and put on the silver cross, but hesitated before putting on the finishing touch–the sentient hunter’s belt, complete with three enchanted silver stakes.

It lay coiled, untouched in the bag. My hands weren’t anywhere near it, but I could feel eagerness radiating from it. The dead hunter’s spirit inhabiting the belt wasn’t stupid. It knew I would take it on a road trip for only one reason.

When I ran a fingertip along the dark leather, the draw to put it on grew stronger. It was projecting that impatience, making me want it, yet I hesitated.

The last time I had worn this thing with the intent to fight Others, almost a year ago, I very nearly died. The belt was a thing of magic, and while it would make me stronger, faster, harder to kill, the artifact would also whisper its desire to destroy vampires. As soon as I put the belt on, it would adhere to me until daybreak. If I was going to be around Royce all night, this might not be a great idea. The spirit housed in the runes branded into the leather was eager, so eager, to see the stakes used to draw blood and to kill.

I was stronger than it. I knew that. I’d beaten back the urges it breathed to life in me before. I could do it again if I had to. I’d just never felt it like this, projecting those desires so strongly before putting it on.

Steeling myself against the inevitable mental intrusion, I reluctantly lifted it out of the duffel and settled it around my waist. The trio of stakes rode at my left hip. Extra ammo would go on the right. As soon as I slid the tongue through the buckle, the leather adhered to itself, and it was too late to wonder if I’d made the right decision by putting this piece of magework on.

‘You’re afraid of what I’ll make you do. You’ve never been afraid of me before, not like this.’ I’d been expecting a freight train, not a gentle breeze to whisper through my mind. While not as obnoxious as it could have been, it still gave me the shivers. Having something know you so intimately and see into your thoughts clearly enough to perceive what you were thinking was unnatural. It never made mention of any previous owners, but I was sure it never forgot what it saw in those hunters’ heads–or in mine.

“I don’t want to hurt my friends. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to see the difference between them and the real enemy.”

God, I would never get over having conversations with a person who wasn’t there. To anyone else it would look like I was talking to myself. It knew my thoughts, but I wasn’t used to communicating to it without speaking.

‘I know enough to restrain myself. No need to worry about that. I’m simply looking forward to the inevitable battle ahead.’ Quiet laughter echoed in my skull.

“Great. Just fantastic.” Even the belt knew I’d be fighting for my life later tonight. Then again, it knew what I knew, saw what I saw, heard what I heard when it was worn, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. On the bright side, it wouldn’t make me go postal on Chaz and Royce. I felt a twinge thinking about them, but that was all.

It stayed quiet, radiating muted excitement as I put on the holsters and guns, and clipped the extra ammo to it. I shook the wrinkles out of my trench coat to hide the weaponry from casual inspection. The soft hiss and creak of worn leather was more comforting to me than the weapons. Something about leather and guns just screamed “badass"–an image I would gladly uphold if it meant Max and his cronies would leave me alone.

Tossing my other clothes and sneakers into the bag, I left the room and approached Royce’s office. The door was open and a vaguely familiar voice drifted into the hall.

“… toward the properties on Staten Island, and I just received a report that the Endless Night was also taken. The rest of the clubs and restaurants haven’t been touched. Angus called and said that one of his staffers found out that Max moved somewhere into the heart of the city. Other than that, no word.”

The speaker was Royce’s assistant, John. He blocked the door as he stood there riffling through a pile of papers on a clipboard. I tapped him lightly on the shoulder to get him to move.

He twisted around inhumanly fast, dropping the clipboard. His dark brown eyes were wide, wider than they should have been, and darkened perceptibly when he saw me. Fear? Or something else?

“How did you sneak up on me?”

Ah. I’d hurt his male–err, his vampire pride. Granted, it was strange he hadn’t been able to detect my heartbeat or breathing or something, but I figured it was the belt’s influence.

“Just talented, I guess.” I peered past him to the others. They watched with a mixture of wariness and amusement as John collected his scattered papers.

Chaz had shifted while I was out of the room. His blond hair was now on the shaggy side; scruffy hints of a beard giving him a dangerous, feral look. Someone had thoughtfully loaned him a pair of jeans that looked to be a couple sizes too big. Where had those come from? Wait. On second thought, I didn’t want to know.

“You guys ready to go?” I asked.

Devon nodded and rose up from the couch, eager to get out of here. He brushed past John, who was staring at me with a strangely wary expression.

Chaz followed closely in Devon’s wake, giving Royce a dark look. What did they say to each other while I was changing? Nothing civil, judging by the tension in the air. Royce followed at the rear, his expression pleasant, but empty. He put a hand on John’s shoulder as he moved up to the lead, discussing something to do with some of the other night clubs and restaurants. It took me a second to figure out he was talking about hostile takeovers by Max’s men, and not of the corporate kind. Some of Royce’s people had turned on him, and his properties were now being used as a resource by Max. What good a couple of eateries might do in this rivalry was beyond me, but John was pretty agitated about it.

We took the stairs all the way down to the basement, someplace I’d never been. This part of the club was storage, never meant to be seen by the public.

Most of it was open space, dotted with stacked pallets and crates of wine, beer, water, and soda. There was an employee kitchen/lounge, a couple of bathrooms, and prop, costume, and dressing rooms for the entertainment. For the moment, it was deserted. Around nine or ten, it would be buzzing with activity; people getting ready for the first acts of the night and running supplies upstairs.

Royce led us to a janitor’s closet adjoined to the employee lounge. He had to use a key to open what looked like an unnecessarily heavy-duty deadbolt. Once the door swung open, its purpose was clear.

The walls on either side of the door were stacked neatly with mops, brooms, and other cleaning supplies, but there was a second door propped open in the back of the closet. It led to a cement tunnel that angled down somewhere below basement level. A secret passage? Cool!

“Remember, I expect all of you to keep this secret,” Royce warned. His gaze lingered on Devon. The hunter gave back nothing in return but a sly smile. I could see why Royce would be worried; if the rest of the White Hats heard about this, they would use it to the hilt.

Royce led the way. John locked up behind us and brought up the rear. The passage was well lit and clear of debris, but the stone walls were damp and the unpleasant scent of mildew was in the air. Chaz’s nose was wrinkled in disgust; he liked it less than I did.

There was no trash, no rats, and no roaches. Just halogen lamps set into the walls at intervals, lighting the way to some unknown destination. Guess even vampires can’t see in perfect darkness. Or maybe Royce used this tunnel system to secretly move humans around for God alone knew what reasons. That was a topic I did not want to explore. Suppressing a shiver, I shoved all thoughts of potential human trafficking to the back of my mind. Ick.

There were places where the passage broke off in other directions, branching outward. We stayed in a straight line, and I tried to figure out where we were. There were times when we must have come very close to some of the train stations or tunnels. The ground occasionally vibrated under my feet like when you’re walking on the platforms and a subway train grinds to a halt before you. We walked for what felt like an eternity, though mainly I think it felt that way due to the scenery not changing and the unpleasant whispers in the back of my mind about human victims being spirited away.

Royce veered down one of the branches. I’d been following so closely I almost plowed into him when he halted before a recessed door. I’d stopped so abruptly Devon put a hand on my shoulder to steady himself.

My cheeks felt like they were on fire. The elder vamp grinned at me, a glint of humor in his eyes. “We’ll be out of here before long.”

I rolled my eyes at him to cover my nervousness. Royce pulled a key ring out from one of his pockets, flicking through them until he found the one he was looking for. This time we stepped out into a storage closet with boxes piled practically to the ceiling. Royce led the way to the other side, helping us negotiate a way around the obstacles and into another basement.

It was dark, and Devon’s fingers dug into my shoulder again. “I can’t see shit.”

I looked around, seeing the dim outline of crates and boxes. I couldn’t make out any details about the place, but it wasn’t that dark.

Then I remembered I had improved night vision with the belt. Whoops. He was the only one with the poor night vision here; John, Chaz, Royce, and myself weren’t having a problem because we could see in the dark in a way that Devon never would. Not without metaphysical assistance anyway.

“How much longer ‘til we’re out of here?” I asked, since I knew Devon was too afraid to say anything. I could feel his nervousness in the tension of his fingers, how tightly he held on to me.

“The service elevator is just ahead,” John said.

I made it a point to watch my step, keeping clear of anything Devon might trip on in the dark. My vision must not have been as good as I thought. I didn’t see the door that led to the service elevator until Royce opened it, leaving me momentarily light-blinded.

Shielding my eyes, I squinted into the room. It was a grungy open space with filthy linoleum floors and plain, whitewashed walls. The service elevator was pretty big, designed to carry crates and furniture, so there would be no difficulty fitting the whole party into it.

We were on the third and lowest level of the basement. Royce hit the buttons for the first-level basement and the eighth floor before turning his attention to John.

“I’m going to take them somewhere safe. Can you round up whoever isn’t on duty and have them meet me back here in two hours?”

John nodded, and I put a staying hand on Royce’s arm. “Wait a second, are you planning to face off against Max without me?”

“Yes.”

My grip tightened until I saw little crow’s feet appear around those black eyes. With my enhanced strength from the belt, it must have hurt, but his only reaction was the slightest hardening of his expression. I didn’t let up the pressure, giving in to the silent, gleeful urgings of the belt.