Twice Dead (13 page)

I jerked back. “That’s a
silver
knife.”

“It’s a ceremonial tool.”

He reached for my hand again and I shook my head. I might not be able to shift anymore, but my silver allergy persisted. “Use a different knife.”

“I don’t have one. Now give me your hand, it will only hurt for a moment.”

I glanced over my shoulder, hoping Gil would help, but she was busy jotting something in her scroll—probably about me, the lab rat. Holding out my hand again, I squeezed my eyes shut as the knife bit into my flesh. At the touch of silver, first my finger, then my entire hand went numb. The drop of blood from my finger fell on the skull’s forehead, and I felt the pulse of magic in Avin’s circle. Hugging my numb hand to my chest, I retreated to the company of a stone angel.

Avin sat down cross-legged in front of the skull and bowed his head. His voice lifted in a low, sing-song chant, the words foreign but commanding. The candlelight flickered. Once.

Twice. Then the smoke stopped billowing out of the skull and, twisting in midair, it turned and flowed
downward
back into the sockets.

Avin opened his eyes.

A scream issued from the skull.

“Kill you!” the skull shrieked, enunciating surprisingly well for something with no lips. “I’ll kill you. You can’t kill
me
this time.”

I gasped. I recognized the voice. “Bryant?”

In life, Bryant had been an average-Joe human until he was tagged by Tyler. A hyena spirit took up residence inside his body, breaking his mind and sense of self, and, under the tutelage of Tyler, he’d turned into a vicious predator. Human turned shapeshifter in the hands of a psycho? Not a good combo.

I frowned at Gil. “It’s Bryant’s skull?”

“Obviously. The other rogue ended up a pancake on the sidewalk. I couldn’t salvage anything from
him
.”

The skull turned on its base so the smoke-filled sockets glared at me.

“Monster,” Bryant’s skull yelled. “Monster! Kill her!” Then it gave out a blood-curdling howl. Apparently he and the hyena were still bound together—and just as insane—in death. It made me wonder anew what had happened to my cat-self after I became a vampire.

“Shuddup. You’re a talking skull.” Avin rapped the skull on its cranium. “This thing wasn’t human. What did you have me bring back?”

“Rogue shape-shifter,” I said, staring at the angry skull.

Bryant’s skull went on shrieking. Nights ago, when Gil had mentioned she was working on a way for us to question the dead rogue about his accomplices, I’d thought she’d meant Tyler, not Bryant. Two rogues had gone on a killing spree, but only one of them, Tyler, had been tagged directly by me. I’d stopped them both, but the monster I’d accidentally created when I defended myself with my claws had been Tyler, the one to tag Bryant. Tyler would have been far more useful.

Still, the two rogues had traveled and killed together for several months. Bryant could know something important.

If the skull would just stop bellowing long enough for us to question it.

“Can’t you make it stop screaming?” I asked, pressing my hands over my ears, which did little to dampen my hypersensitive hearing.

Avin hit the skull again, but it kept howling. “You neglected to mention you killed this dude-thing.”

“I didn’t think that was an important detail,” Gil said, shuffling her feet. The skull turned to yell at her again. She ignored it. “Can we question him now?”

Avin shrugged. “Knock yourself out. Don’t know how helpful he’ll be. Spirits don’t tend to like the people who sent them to the incorporeal world.”

“But
you
can make him answer. I’ve read that a necromancer should be able to control a rampaging spirit.”

“‘Course I can. For a price.”

“We don’t have anything more to offer—”

Avin interrupted her, “I want to test your aptitude for necromancy, and if what I suspect is true, I want to train you to use your potential. That’s it. That’s my price.”

Gil’s lips parted as her jaw fell crooked. She glanced my way, her eyes a little too wide. I shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first thing she’d done that went against Sabin’s laws.

“Okay,” she nodded, and I couldn’t tell if I heard fear or excitement in her voice.
Probably both.

Avin closed his eyes again. Bryant suddenly stopped yelling obscenities at us and contented himself to hiss quietly between his teeth.

Without opening his eyes, Avin said, “Try your questions now.”

Gil leaned toward the skull. “How many humans were tagged and became shifters?” she asked. The skull hissed at her. She repeated her question.

“Just me,” the skull finally said. “Me and Tyler, monsters, partying all the way to hell.”

“He’s lying.” Gil’s expression scrunched up, her lips twisting. “I thought he wasn’t supposed to be able to lie.”

Avin raised an eyebrow, eyes still closed. “He can’t lie.”

“He
has
to be lying.”

I waved a hand. “Uh…” I happened to have it on good authority that Bryant’s skull
wasn’t
lying—I’d seen inside his mind before he died.

But, while I was willing to cooperate with Gil’s whole, Kitais- my-lab-rat thing, telling Gil I had bits and pieces of
two
homicidal rogues traipsing through my head wasn’t something I was ready to share. Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever.

“Gil, he’s not lying,” I said, pushing away from the angel statue and creeping closer to the skull. The chill of Avin’s magic crawled over my skin as I approached his circle.

“Bryant wasn’t one of the attackers from the street. He was tagged by Tyler.”

Gil’s brows knit together as she digested this. “By the
other
rogue? I got the wrong skull?”

“Bryant might still know something. What about any other ‘monsters?’” I asked him. “Did you see any others? Did Tyler ever mention any?”

“You!” Bryant’s skull yelled. “
You’re
a monster. Monster.”

Not helpful.

Gil huffed. “Did Tyler ever mention family? Friends?” she asked. “His last name?”

The skull managed to look contemplative. “No.”

“Did Tyler tell you how he became a shifter?”

I knew intimately how Tyler had been tagged, but maybe, if he’d told the story to Bryant, he’d mentioned the names of his companions that night.

The skull’s bony jaw clicked. “Yeah, he said the devil called his name and gave him the power.”

The devil? Right.
This was going nowhere. I bit my lip and tried to examine the memories I’d siphoned from Tyler.

He’d been thinking about killing when we’d fought and I bit him and dived into his mind. In particular, he’d been thinking about killing
me
, but the thought had opened paths to memories of his other kills. In my mind’s eye, flesh parted, screams echoed, and the taste of raw meat, of human meat, filled my mouth.
So many women.
Even the ones who hadn’t survived were familiar to my mind’s eye now.

But I didn’t need to see his victims. I needed his companions. I found a memory of myself through his eyes, of the night I’d inadvertently tagged him. His companions’ faces floated into view, but no names. I could only focus on the memories I’d taken from his mind before his death.

I had enough of his sadistic memories to supply a lifetime of nightmares, but not enough to find the other men who’d jumped me. I’d defended myself, but in the process, I’d accidentally tagged Tyler. And possibly his friends. Thinking of the attack brought the memories full circle, filling me with what he’d planned to do to me, what he’d wanted. Screams ripped through my mind again, and I shivered, shoving the memories back in the dark hole I’d made for them.

Opening my eyes, I frowned at Avin. “You might as well make Bryant’s skull stop talking. There’s no point. It doesn’t know the answers we need.”

“Wait,” Gil said. She stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the skull. “We can ask him other questions. This is the perfect time to study why humans who turn shifter go insane. Not to mention how the two spirits are tied together and to the memory of the body—”

“Study later. If I don’t get to Death’s Angel before Tatius discovers I’m gone, it’s Nathanial who will pay.” I glanced at the sky. How long had I been gone? Had Samantha reported my defection to Tatius? “Get me back to the club.”

“But—” Gil started.

“You’re going to be my apprentice, remember, babe?” Avin smiled at Gil. “Trust me, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to study the dead.”

She frowned but nodded. “All right. I’ll come back after I take Kita home.”

Avin made a slight nod goodbye.

And for the first time, I waited anxiously to be thrown into the void.

Chapter Eleven

Snow crunched under me, the dampness clinging to my fishnets. “Gil, this is not where you picked me up.”

“It’s close.” She shuffled in the snow. “I’ve read about these clubs. No one should notice you coming and going.”

My teeth clenched in an effort to ward off a scream of frustration. I needed to be back in Tatius’s room, pretending like I’d never left. Walking in through the front door of Death’s Angel and winding my way through the lower levels was bound to draw attention. My jaw cracked as I forced my teeth apart. Gil took one look at my face and backed up before I uttered a word.

“Uh, you probably need these.” My ruined boots appeared in her hands, and she dropped them between us. “I should, uh, go. Lots to learn.”

She vanished.

Great
. Just great.

Leaning down, I snatched the broken boots from the snow then padded around the side of the building. I’d been led underground twice since becoming a vampire. I
should
be able to make my way to the lower levels. Now finding Tatius’s suite, that was another matter.
I’ll deal with it when I get to
it.

If I even made it that far.

Getting into the club wasn’t a problem, nor was taking the staff-only halls through to the VIP area, but that was where my luck ended. A huge metal door blocked my path to the stairs leading underground. I’d forgotten about it. A keypad was inlaid into the wall beside the door, but I didn’t have the code. A fingerprint reader rested above the keypad, and I pressed my left thumb to the panel. The small machine made a noise as it scanned, then the light flashed red.

The door didn’t unlock.

Crap.

Behind me, in the VIP room, an unseen door crashed open.

I jumped.
Did I trip an alarm?

I glanced around for somewhere to hide, but the short hallway held nothing but the door I couldn’t get past and the one I’d just entered from. Another door banged open, this one closer. With nowhere to hide, I leaned on the metal door to the underground and crossed my arms over my chest, forcing a relaxed pose.

The door across from me flew open, and three large men poured into the small hallway, moving fast—inhumanly fast.

My arms over my chest tightened, my muscles tensing.

Otherwise I didn’t move—where could I really go with the locked door at my back?

The men stopped in the middle of the hall, still several yards away. Two wore more straps and chains than anything resembling clothing, but the third wore black jeans and a muscle shirt. He was the one who held up his hand, stopping the other two. His head cocked to the side, his chocolatecolored eyes pinching quizzically as they slid over me.

“You’re the Hermit’s companion, aren’t you?”

That was a complicated subject, and at least one of Tatius’s vampires could see through lies, so I let him believe what he liked. Cocking my head to the side, I jerked my thumb at the door.

“I got locked out.”

I smiled as I said it, but he only frowned at me, his eyes sliding over my—probably very expensive—water-stained dress, the broken boots dangling from my grip, and my torn and grass-stained fishnets. Then he nodded at the other men.

They turned without a word, strolling out of the hall and back the way they’d come. He remained.

I shifted my weight between my feet, and his eyes snapped back to me. He stared at me long enough that the urge to squirm traveled all the way up my spine. Then he marched to the door and pressed his thumb to the scanner. A green light flashed as a loud
click
resounded in the short hall.

“I’m Liam,” he said, hauling open the door.

“Kita.” I stepped around him, hurrying into the stairwell beyond the door.

I expected him to escort me down—probably all the way down to the council room, but he stayed at the doorway.

“Don’t wander the city. With all the shit going on with the Collector’s visit, pandemonium is one drop from spilling over all the lesser vampires.” Then he slammed the door, the large lock snapping back in place.

I blinked at the door for a long heartbeat. A friendly warning? A dire one? Turning, I hurried down the stairs. The waiting room was empty, thank the stars, but now I had to find the door. With all the walls draped behind heavy layers of fabric, that was easier said than done, but after a moment of flailing with the drapes, I located the hidden door and slipped into the hall beyond.

Now all I have to worry about is finding Tatius’s suite.

“Where the hell have you been?” an annoyed female voice whispered as I turned a corner in the hall.

Okay, apparently I didn’t have to worry about navigating the underground labyrinth after all.

Samantha closed the space between us. Her hand shot out, her polished nails digging into my bicep as her fingers locked around my arm. “Are you trying to tangle us both in Tatius’s wrath?”

“There was a misunderstanding and… well… I’m here now.” Oh yeah, that was pathetic.

Her eyes slid down me, taking in the damage my wardrobe had already suffered tonight. “Saints alive,” she hissed in an exasperated whisper. “The dress will have to do. Lose the stockings and the boots. We don’t have time to find replacements.”

She released my arm and stepped back. Her nails clicked together like claws as she waited for me to shuck the ruined fishnets. I hadn’t thought much of the stockings while I wore them, but once they were off, the short dress felt all that much more revealing.