Vampire Most Wanted (23 page)

Her old fears of her family had immediately resurfaced and the first wave of her anger with them had been born. Luc had been only the first of her grandsons that Divine had raised. Damian had brought her eight of them in all during those first two centuries. She’d raised each as her own, with all the love she could give them, and then had been forced to stand by as her son took them away to finish their upbringing himself. Some had become no-fanger after leaving her, some had not, which Abaddon had said was normal. He had claimed that some children were like that, their no-fanger needs simply not kicking in until puberty.

Of course, now that Marcus had explained nanos to her, she realized that couldn’t be the case at all. Those boys must have been birthed by mortal women. If they became no-fangers later, it was because Damian must have tried to turn them. She now wondered if that was the real cause of their death, because not one of the grandsons she’d cared for had survived to adulthood. Each of them had died, supposedly slaughtered by Argeneau spies or hunters. And then Damian had stopped bringing her the children he spawned, claiming that she made them weak.

Once he’d stopped bringing her children, Damian’s visits had grown more sparse. Some centuries she’d seen him more often than others, but they had gone as much as eight decades between visits at times. In fact, Divine had often been amazed that he was able to find her when he did come around or send for her. She was constantly moving, after all.

Divine sighed and dashed irritably at her eyes. Thoughts of her grandsons always made her teary. But it was more than that right now. Looking back with the new information she had, she was seeing a lot of the lies that had been told her and wondering just what in her life had been true. She was also wishing she hadn’t been quite so gullible and accepted what Abaddon had said. In fact, she really didn’t understand why she had. She’d loathed the man. Shouldn’t she have doubted every word out of his mouth?

Influence seemed the obvious answer. All she could think was that he’d used mind control, influence, and mental nudging to ensure she believed him. It didn’t matter though, whether he’d used influence and such, or she’d just been blind and stupid, the end result was the same. Divine was left with the ruins of a life; no home, no family, no friends, and unable to claim her life mate. It also left her with a son who, if Marcus was to be believed, was a killer like his father. And so were his sons.

Divine shook her head. She’d never seen any evidence of that. The women who had been around when she’d visited had— Frankly, she’d not thought much of them. They’d all looked unkempt and emaciated, and had always been high as kites when she’d visited, as had her grandsons. Now she had to wonder about that too. Were they druggies, or just kept drugged up when she was around so that she couldn’t read fear or terror from their minds? Narcotics muddied the thoughts enough to make them incomprehensible when read.

Were those poor women really victims like she had been to Damian’s father, Leonius? Divine’s mouth tightened. Marcus had said that Damian went by his father’s name and named his sons Leonius as well so that he had to call them each by their birth order number. She had heard him call them by numbers over the centuries. For instance he’d called Rufus, the rude grandson she usually wanted to swat, Four on more than one occasion, although in front of her he usually just called them all boy.

Her thoughts returned to the women. Divine couldn’t bear to think her son was treating those women as his father had treated her. She intended to find out and set them free if that was the case. She intended on finding out the truth of everything if she could.

Spotting a gas station, Divine slowed and pulled in.

As she’d hoped there was a pay phone here, against the side of the building. She needed to call Damian and find out where he was. She didn’t want to drive all the way to the last place he’d been only to find he had moved on.

Divine had always had a good memory. She suspected it had something to do with the nanos. Certainly she didn’t recall Damian’s number because she used it excessively. She usually called him once a month or so. At least she had until a couple days ago when he’d suddenly called saying he was in the area and needed to see her.

The phone barely rang once before it was picked up, but it wasn’t Damian who answered, it was Abaddon. The sound of his voice immediately set her teeth on edge. “I want to speak to my son.”

“I’m sorry, Basha, he’s playing with one of his little female friends right now,” Abaddon said sweetly. “Can I take a message?”

Divine didn’t bother insisting he use the name Divine, but simply growled, “Are you still at the house I woke up in the other day?”

“No,” Abaddon said at once. “We’ve moved. I felt like seeing the Cirque du Soleil perform, and your son was amenable, so we headed to Vegas. We’re about half an hour outside that city.”

Divine went still. That seemed a happy coincidence, but she doubted if it was. After all, she knew Abaddon had some of Damian’s sons watching her. They’d probably told him that she and Marcus were in Vegas, and that was the real reason he was here. The only question was why? The boys could call in their reports. He didn’t have to remain close by.

Grinding her teeth, she asked, “What’s the address?”

When he finished rattling it off, Divine hung up without a good-bye and returned to the SUV to check the GPS. The address he’d given her was half an hour out of the city, but on the other side from where she was now. And it looked like it was in the middle of nowhere, she noted, making the GPS image bigger.

Setting that address as the destination, Divine started the SUV and shifted into gear. She would return it to the hotel parking lot after confronting her son. If she survived the confrontation. Divine suspected one of them wouldn’t. If he was killing people, Damian was a menace, and while she hadn’t technically brought him into this world, she’d raised him, was responsible for him, and would take him out if she had to.

Twenty-two

D
ivine brought the SUV to a halt and shifted it into park, but didn’t get out. Instead, she simply sat and stared at the building the GPS had brought her to. It looked like an old abandoned warehouse, though why anyone would store anything way the heck out here in the middle of nowhere, she didn’t know. The only thing she could think was that the land was probably cheap as spit. Although, from the looks of it, even that hadn’t been enough to make it worthwhile once the gas prices had started to skyrocket. By her guess, no one had used the building in at least thirty years . . . until now.

Another palace for her son, Divine thought grimly. In the past, she would have blamed her uncle for Damian’s having to live like this. Now she wondered if Damian didn’t actually choose places like this because of the lack of neighbors. There would be no one to hear the screams if he really had followed in his father’s footsteps and was torturing women in that building.

Mouth tightening, Divine finally got out of the SUV and headed for the building. There were several doors to choose from, half a dozen bay doors that trucks would have backed up to, and one door customers and employees would have used to enter on foot. She chose the latter.

Divine didn’t bother knocking, but simply reached out and turned the knob, not surprised when it opened unimpeded. Damian had never been overly concerned about security . . . something that had always frustrated her since she’d thought perhaps her grandsons’ murders might have been prevented had he troubled himself with even a modicum of security.

Pushing that thought aside, Divine stepped inside. This was obviously where customers would have been received when it had still been in use. It was a large reception area with a long counter running from one end, almost to the other. Beyond it was an old desk, some filing cabinets, and the door to another room. Despite the fact that it was bright daylight and the front of the offices were faced with large windows, this room was dim. A good cleaning of the grime that coated the windows would have fixed that, but Divine wasn’t here to perform housekeeping for her son. Besides, avoiding sunlight was always a good thing. The damage from sunlight meant more blood was needed and more frequent feeding was necessary.

Divine moved around the counter, her eyes shifting over everything as she crossed to the second door. There wasn’t much more to see, a few bits of old yellowed paper on the floor along with years of built-up dust and grime. Through the door though, she found a room that was nearly pitch-black.

“You made good time.”

Divine narrowed her eyes at the sound of Abaddon’s voice and waited for her night vision to kick in. Once it had, she saw that she was in a large room with a long table and several chairs. There was also a kitchenette of sorts at one end with a tired old white fridge and kitchen cupboards, half of them missing their doors. As for Abaddon, he was seated at a chair at the table, as comfortable as you please. His eyes glowed gold in the darkness.

Reaching to the side, Divine searched the wall for a switch, found it, and turned it on, but nothing happened.

“No electricity,” Abaddon said helpfully.

A rustling drew her attention back to him as he lifted what appeared to be a lantern onto the table. He turned a knob and the lantern gave off a weak glow that barely lit up a small circle around where he sat.

“Solar,” Abaddon explained. “Much cheaper than gas or oil lanterns and the like. Leave these outside during the day while we sleep and they can light up the night for us. I’m a great proponent of solar power,” he said with a smile, and the shadows cast by the light made him look like the devil himself.

The devil in a powder blue jogging suit, Divine thought, eyeing the man with disgust. Where she and Leo were fair-haired, Abaddon had dark hair, brown eyes with gold flecks in them, and a clean-shaven face. All in all he looked unremarkable; average build, average looks, totally nonthreatening. Most people would have mistaken him for a businessman on his way to working out after a busy day . . . until it was too late.

“Where’s Damian?” she asked shortly.

“On his way. You beat him here. But then, as I said, you made very good time.”

“I was in Vegas,” Divine said coldly. “But then you knew that.”

“Did I?” he asked mildly.

“If you didn’t then your spies are slipping.”

“Oh,” Abaddon said softly. “So you know.”

“That you’ve been jerking me around for two millennia?” Divine asked grimly.

“Two millennia plus seven hundred and forty-seven years,” Abaddon corrected. “I’m rather proud of that so you should give me every day I’m due.”

Divine stared at him. There was no shame or dismay at being caught, not that she’d expected any, but she’d expected
something
, and there was no apparent reaction in his face at all. She eyed him with loathing for a minute and then said, “If Damian is really coming, I’ll just wait to speak to him.”

“He isn’t coming,” Abaddon said at once. “In fact he doesn’t know about this place, or this meeting even. I told him I had some personal business to attend to, and suggested he just relax today and play. He took my advice,” Abaddon added with pleasure, and smiled when she cursed. “I gather you’re disappointed?”

“Only that he takes your advice on anything,” she snapped.

“He always takes my advice, Basha. He sees me as more of a parent than you could ever be,” Abaddon said, his voice dripping with feigned pity. “Because while he had to hide his true nature from you, he could always be himself with me. I know and accept him for what he is rather than try to turn him into what I want him to be.”

“Oh, stuff it, Abaddon,” she snarled, furious. “You were never a parent to him. He likes you because you always let him have his way. I was the parent, telling him no, punishing him when he was bad, and teaching him right from wrong.”

“Hmmm.” Abaddon nodded. “That must be why he confessed to me when he started torturing and killing small animals and children as a boy.”

Divine stiffened and felt herself pale at this news. Her son had tortured and killed animals and small children? Animals were bad enough, but small
children
? How could she not have known—?

“Because when he wept and fretted that you would be angry if you found out, I helped him hide it,” Abaddon said as if she had spoken her thoughts aloud. Smiling, he added, “Leo was worried for a while that it was naughty and there was something wrong with him, but I explained it was simply in his nature. Like a bee stings and a lion stalks, he was born to be like that. His father was like that before him and he was just as he was meant to be. That’s when I started calling him Leonius . . . and he liked it.”

“Bastard,” she growled, launching herself at him. Divine wanted to scratch his eyes out, choke him, and twist his head off in that moment, but she didn’t even get to touch him. Divine had barely taken two steps when she was grabbed from behind.

Cursing, she twisted her head from side to side to see that she’d been grabbed by two of her grandsons. No doubt the ones who had been sent to spy on her, Divine realized, and wondered how she could have forgotten about them.

“Sit her in the chair and chain her up,” Abaddon ordered, standing, and Divine found herself strong-armed across the room and set in the chair he’d just vacated. One of her grandsons—one of Damian’s sons, she corrected herself—then moved to the refrigerator, opened it, and retrieved some chain and several padlocks from a stack of them inside. It appeared they’d come prepared. Divine only wished she had. She’d been so determined to talk to her son, she hadn’t considered a scenario like this.

She remained silent as the two young no-fangers worked. Abaddon watched them, checked the chains afterward, and nodded his satisfaction. He then murmured something to one of the men. Despite her immortal hearing, all Divine caught were the words “I want you to go wait for—” as Abaddon walked the man out of the room. He returned alone a moment later, but didn’t even cast a glance toward Divine before beginning to pace, head down, expression thoughtful.

Divine frowned, her gaze sliding to the young no-fanger still behind her. He’d moved to lean against the wall, a bored expression on his face. Her gaze slid back to Abaddon, still pacing. “What are we waiting for?”

“Your life mate,” Abaddon answered absently, continuing to pace.

“Well then you’re wasting your time,” she said at once. “Marcus won’t come here. He doesn’t know where I am.”

“Yes he does. I left a message for him at the hotel with this address,” Abaddon murmured, taking out his phone when it made the sound of a foghorn. It was obviously a text message, and one that annoyed him, because he began tapping out a message in response, his mouth twisted with displeasure. He finished his message, started to slip the phone back in his pocket, only to pause and draw it back out when it made that foghorn sound again. He muttered with exasperation at whatever the latest incoming message said, and quickly typed another response. This time as he returned the phone he glanced to Divine and announced with irritation, “Your son is bored.”

“Not my son,” Divine said coldly. “You’re the one who encouraged him to be the way he is.”

“Well, yes, because that’s what a parent does, Basha,” he said with exasperation. “A parent is supposed to encourage the child.”

“He wasn’t your son to encourage,” she growled.

“No, but then neither was his father, and I encouraged him and helped him find his full potential too,” Abaddon said with a shrug.

“You helped Leonius Livius find his true potential?” she echoed dubiously.

“Of course. Do you really think he came up with the idea of creating an army of his own sons all by himself?” he asked dryly. “The man didn’t think past his next pleasure, let alone the next day. He wasn’t concerned about the other Atlantean refugees getting wind of what he was doing and rising up against him.”

Divine merely stared at him. She’d always thought that Abaddon was just another follower of the man. That he’d shown up on the scene after Leonius Livius was well into the plan. Now he was suggesting he’d been there at the start of it.

“Most no-fangers are mad, but not really naturally cruel,” he lectured, apparently determined to convince her and lay claim to the dubious honor of being the puppet master behind the monster. “Mostly they just seem to be lacking a conscience and don’t care who or how they hurt others to get what they want. The cruelty Leo has and his father had before him, though? That had to be nurtured and helped to grow in them and I did that for both of them, Leonius Livius I and the son you raised.”

Divine stared at him with horror. “You ruined Damian.”

He snorted at the claim. “Nonsense! I didn’t put the knife in his hand the first time he chopped up a child. I just helped him develop to his full potential once he revealed it.”

She was shaking her head in denial before he even finished speaking. “He had a conscience, you said yourself he was weeping and fretting over what he’d done. He knew it was wrong. If I had known and—”

“He was weeping and fretting at the possibility of getting caught and the consequences of it,” Abaddon corrected sharply. “He was afraid his
mommy
would be angry and not love him anymore.” Lips pursing with disgust, he added, “The boy has some serious mommy issues, Basha. Despite everything I’ve done for him, he will listen to you over me when he feels he has to, to appease you . . . and he doesn’t want you hurt or angered either.” He scowled and added, “Mind you, he might worry less about that if he knew his precious
mommy
was thinking of turning him in to her uncle Lucian. What kind of mother does that make you?”

“He’s torturing and raping innocent mortals,” she barked defensively, stung at the accusation that wanting to stop Damian made her a bad mother.

“And killing. Don’t forget that,” Abaddon added with a grin. “But innocent, bah!” he sneered, and then said with disgust, “Most of them are runaways, whores, and junkies who had a short life expectancy anyway.”

“Made even shorter by my son’s arrival in their life,” Divine growled. “And you said
most
of them are, what about the others? How many lives has he brought to an early end? How many women has he tortured before killing?”

“Women
and men
,” he corrected. “Unlike his father, Leo has a liking for family picnics. Something you instilled in him, by the way.”

“Family picnics?” she asked with bewilderment.

“Yes, you know, finding a nice wholesome family out on a farm and taking them all out to the barn for a meal. Although I believe you used to take them one at a time, and generally on the back porch or behind the barn. Of course, you never let him hurt or kill them, making him take just enough blood to get by before putting them back in their beds. Still, those are fond memories for him and he likes to relive them.”

“Relive them?” she echoed uncertainly.

“Yes. Mind you, Leo likes to do things on a much grander scale.”

“Grander how?” she asked, sure she wouldn’t like the answer.

Abaddon considered her briefly, but apparently couldn’t resist and rushed over to claim the chair across from her. Leaning on the table, he smiled enthusiastically and explained, “See, he gets half a dozen or so of the boys together, and they find an isolated farmhouse with a nice big family. But that’s where his feedings differ from the ones you took him on. Instead of taking one member at a time, he and the boys roust everyone from their beds and take the whole family down to the barn together. Now, they’re still in their pajamas, mind, and Mommy and the kids are huddled together with a couple of boys keeping them from running or looking away, and they get to watch while Daddy is strung up by his feet like a pig for slaughter, and then . . .” He shrugged. “Well, they slaughter him.”

Divine closed her eyes against the images he was painting, but they continued to play across her mind as he added, “It’s really something to see, the boys all working together with their dad as they slice and dice their prey. They do it slowly, of course, to draw out the pleasure.”