15 Targeted (7 page)

“You’re
not
crazy,” he repeated, looking at her intently.

“Not crazy, huh?” Emily gave a sobbing little laugh that hurt her throat coming out. “Tell that to Grayson over there.”

“Yes—this male—the one you call Grayson…” He frowned, his face like a thundercloud. “It is time to attend to him.”

He let her go and went over to Grayson who he grabbed by the back of his collar, hauling him into the air as easily as though he was lifting a bag of trash.

Grayson gave a moan of protest and struggled in the huge Kindred’s grip.

“Be still you fucking slime,” the Kindred snarled shaking Grayson so hard his teeth clicked together. “I know what you are and I know what you did—you deserve death many times over.” He looked at Emily. “How shall I dispose of him,
Khalla?”

“My name is Emily, not
Khalla,”
she protested, crossing her arms nervously over her chest. “And what do you mean ‘dispose’ of him?”

“I mean kill him, of course.” He looked surprised that he even had to explain to her. “He deserves death for wounding you so grievously and while I cannot allow you to kill him yourself, I will be more than happy to kill him for you. In fact, it will be my very great pleasure.” He glared at Grayson, his golden eyes fierce with anger.

“Hey, now wait a minute—” Grayson began to protest but the Kindred shook him again.

“Silence,
dhag
and let your betters speak.”

Emily didn’t know what a
dhag
was anymore than she knew what
Khalla
or a
Tenrah
or any of the other strange, foreign words the Kindred was spouting meant. But she could tell by looking into his eyes that he meant business.

“You’d really kill him?” she asked him.

He nodded shortly. “In any way you see fit. I have a sonic rifle for a quick kill but that wouldn’t be my pick.”

“It…it wouldn’t?” Emily couldn’t stop staring at him.

He shook his head.

“For what he has done, a quick death is too merciful. I also do excellent knife work.” A long, curving silver blade suddenly appeared in one large hand. “But we would need a private location or something to gag him with.”

“A gag? You’re asking me if I have a
gag?”

The Kindred nodded and looked speculatively at Grayson who was still hanging from his fist, in his rumpled and bloodied suit.

“There is apt to be a lot of screaming. Would you like to watch me skin him? Or perhaps carve his organs out one by one while he still lives? I can save the heart for last and be certain he feels intense pain to the very end.”

“Oh my God,” Emily whispered faintly. “You…you’re serious, aren’t you?”

Grayson seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

“Please!” He wriggled like a hooked fish in the immense Kindred’s grip. “Please don’t—don’t let him, Emily. I never would have hurt you—I was just playing a joke.”

Emily glared at him. “Some joke. Following me to my house to…to…” But she found she couldn’t get the words out with the big Kindred standing right there. “It was no joke,” she finished angrily.

“Tell me how to kill him—what end would best meet your thirst for vengeance?” the huge Kindred rumbled, looking down at her. “Tell me
Khalla
and it shall be done.”

For a moment Emily was severely tempted. How many times had she fantasized about a moment like this when she was trying to heal from Grayson’s attack? Well, not a moment
exactly
like this, she acknowledged to herself. She’d never in her wildest dreams imagined a huge avenging Kindred coming to her rescue and offering to carve up Grayson’s liver and save his heart for last. But still—she’d wished her rapist dead more times than she could count. And yet, now when it came down to it, she found she couldn’t do it. Couldn’t kill him or have him killed in cold blood.

A moment ago when the
other
had taken over she could have done it easily—could have ripped out his throat and bathed in the fountain of crimson that pulsed from the ragged hole in his neck. But now that she was herself again and sanity had reasserted itself, a thousand questions came crowding into her mind.

If they killed Grayson, where could they hide the body? Even if they could find a good place, she was certain the death would eventually come back to haunt her—both literally and figuratively. And how could she explain it when they found his corpse in a shallow grave and some hair or fiber evidence or the DNA she’d left when she bit and scratched him tied her to the case?

Yes officer, he raped me back in college and I figured revenge was a dish best served cold…no, there’s no record of the attack…no I never reported it…
Right. She doubted the police would buy it.

And then there was the fact that Mrs. Peltz had accused her of being on drugs. Emily could just imagine the story the prosecution would spin…a teacher high on some kind of mind altering substance…a brutal murder…a botched cover up…

They’ll put me
under
the jail,
she thought dismally.
Or else lock me in some mental health facility with padded walls. I’ll never see the light of day again.

No, she regretfully acknowledged to herself, it wasn’t worth it. As much as she wanted to see Grayson dead for what he’d done to her, losing the rest of her life for revenge didn’t make sense.

“Let him go,” she told the big Kindred who was standing motionless, waiting to hear her decision. He was holding Grayson aloft as though it was nothing to hold a two hundred and fifty pound weight over his head with one hand. “Just…let him go.”

“After what he did?” The golden eyes widened and then narrowed. “No—there must be retribution.”

“If you punish him, the police are going to punish me,” Emily told him shortly. “So let him go.”

“At least let me cripple him.” His voice was a low, menacing growl. “I can break his spine with ease. He’ll never walk again.”

“No.” Suddenly Emily was tired of the whole mess. “No let him go and you go too.” She lifted her chin. “Unless you’re still planning to kill me?”

The Kindred didn’t give her an answer. Instead he simply glared and shook his head. Then he left her front yard, still holding Grayson by the scruff of his neck. The Mexican Breadfruit bushes rustled with his passing.

Suddenly all the strength seemed to run out of her legs and Emily sank down on the first step of her front porch. She took the corner of her skirt and wiped at her chin where Grayson’s blood was drying, then spat in the grass until she got the coppery taste out of her mouth.

“What a weird, awful day,” she whispered to herself and put her arms around her knees. She wanted to go inside and fix a cup of hot tea and then call Anna and pour out the whole crazy mess. Her older sister was the only person she could think of who might even come close to grasping the bizarre details of what she’d just gone through.

Dimly, through the bushes, Emily heard the big Kindred’s deep, growling voice interspersed with Grayson’s whiney begging and crying and a few muffled shrieks. Then a door slammed and a motor gunned into life.

That’s it—they’re done and now he’s coming for me.
She knew she ought to get up and run into the house—call 911 and beg them to send a squad car to protect her. She thought of the long silver knife in the Kindred’s big hand and shivered. And yet, somehow she couldn’t make herself move. She was too bone weary—worn out both emotionally and physically.

Let the big Kindred come for her—she didn’t care anymore. No doubt Richard Grayson was on his cell phone right now spreading lies about her to the principal, Ms. Edwards and anyone else who would listen. Her career was over and her life was in ruins—not to mention she was still clearly going crazy. Nothing mattered.

She rested her head on her arms and waited for the inevitable.

Chapter Five

The Kindred came back into view soon enough, moving as silently as a jungle cat through the dense bushes that screened her house. With his golden eyes and long, wild black hair he reminded Emily of a panther. She shivered as she watched him come, her determination not to care about her fate slipping just a little. What if he wanted to kill her the way he’d offered to kill Grayson? What if he decided to gut her like a trout?

Suddenly she wanted desperately to jump up and run inside the house but before she could even get up, he was standing right in front of her. To her surprise, he held out a hand to help her up.

Hesitantly she reached for it but the moment their hands touched, a strange shiver of sensation ran through her. It was like the waves of heat that had been consuming her lately but different…more intense.

“God!” Emily gasped as her nipples hardened into tight points and the place between her legs went suddenly liquid with desire.
What the hell?
She snatched her hand back in fright and huddled into herself. “What…what did you do to me?” She looked up at the big Kindred mistrustfully.

“Nothing.” He frowned, his hand still outstretched. “I simply wished to assist you.”

“Assist me to what? To feel…to feel…” But Emily had no name for the strange rush of emotions and sensations that simple touch had made her feel. She’d had no sexual desires at all since the rape back in college. None since that fateful night when the
other
and the strange heat waves had pushed her relentlessly to find a man…and then deserted her when she finally had found one. Emily had believed that part of her was dead—buried by the trauma of the rape. And now, years later, to have such a strong wave of desire rush over her so suddenly for no apparent reason…

No, there is a reason,
she told herself, looking up at the Kindred.
He’s
the reason. But how the hell did he do that? And why?

“
Khalla?”
He was still looking at her expectantly, clearly puzzled by her reaction. So whatever he’d done, he hadn’t done it on purpose. Had he?

“I told you, that’s not my name.” Emily kept her distance from his still outstretched hand.

“Forgive me, Emily.” He bowed to her in an oddly formal way. “I am Rivin Tragar of the
Verrak
but you may know me simply as Tragar
.
I had forgotten you don’t have any knowledge of me, though I have been watching you for days.”

“You have?” She felt even more uneasy.

“Of course,” he said patiently. “I told you, you have been targeted for termination. I was sent to kill you.”

This again.

“Great.” She began to edge away from him, wondering if she could possibly hop up and somehow get inside the house before he could grab her. But her purse was somewhere on the grass out by her car. How could she—?

“I am not going to kill you now, of course.”

“You’re not?” Emily stopped her edging and looked at him uncertainly. Was he lying to throw her off her guard?

“Of course not. That would be tantamount to defiling a precious piece of art—desecrating a treasure of incalculable worth,” he said gravely. “A
Khalla
must be protected at all costs, which is why I must ask you to come with me.”

“Ask me to
what?”
Emily began scooting again in a hurry. “Come with you where?”

“Back to my ship. First I must endeavor to get the contract I was given to kill you revoked. Then we must be certain that no one else is attempting to assassinate you. Once I am sure of your safety, I’ll take you back to Rageron.”