Archangel's Shadows (35 page)

He wasn’t drawing much blood, she realized with the part of her mind that wasn’t dazed. He’d taken most of what he needed in the first two pulls, was now sipping . . . enjoying. She was enjoying it, too. The arousal kept building and building, a fist low in her belly. It was different from sex, not as intimate . . . except this was Janvier. Slipping his fingers under her top to caress her skin, he lifted his lashes again, their eyes connected, and the fist exploded outward.

Shivering through the ripples, she opened eyes she didn’t remember closing to see him licking the wound closed. He did it several times, until she couldn’t see anything but tiny pinpricks that would fade in a day. Satisfied, he slid a hand around her nape and jaw, running the thumb of his other hand over her lower lip. “I could become used to this breakfast.”

She nipped at his thumb. “Gotta say, it’s not a bad morning wake-up.” Yeah, he’d turned her inside out, but he wasn’t exactly in control, either, his erection aggressive against the zipper of his jeans. “Maybe next time we should do it before we get out of bed.”

“I vote yes.” Rubbing up against her, he groaned. “We have—”

Both their phones beeped at once. The message was identical:
One victim awake. Wishes to talk.

Arousal doused, they headed out and to the hospital without further conversation. It was Brooke who was awake and stable enough to talk. Fear was a metallic taste in the air around the brutalized woman, but when she grabbed for Ashwini’s hand, Ashwini didn’t protest.

Stomach muscles clenched against the barrage of pain and panic that made nausea shove at her throat, she met Brooke’s bruised brown eyes. “You’re tough,” she said. “Good. The bastards wouldn’t have expected that.”

Brooke’s smile turned into a grimace as her abused facial muscles attempted to stretch. “You haven’t found—” She coughed, but waved off the chips of ice Ashwini offered from the cup on the bedside table.

“No,” Ashwini answered, putting the ice back. “We haven’t tracked them down yet, but we will. Do you know any place Giorgio might hide?” Pulling out her phone, she went through each of the properties they’d already cleared.

“You got them all.” Rasping, barely audible words. “Only . . .”

“O
nly?” Ashwini could tell Brooke was in severe pain, but the woman had nixed pain medication prior to this meeting because she wanted to talk, wanted to help. Ashwini wasn’t about to second-guess her courage.

“Cattle,” Brooke whispered, her hand tightening on Ashwini’s. “Cattle give him things.”

Ashwini frowned, focusing ruthlessly on the facts rather than the silent scream of terror that continued to slap at her, making her skull throb. “How?” she asked. “His pattern seems to be going after women who have little.” Even the showpiece cattle had all proven to be from modest or deprived backgrounds. Brooke herself had been an exotic dancer in a low-rent part of town before Giorgio plucked her for his adoring harem.

Despite that, the financial wizards had checked them out, found no properties.

“Pattern right.” Brooke coughed again, accepted the ice chips this time, her breathing a serrated scrape. “Make us grateful.”

“He’s a predator.” Ashwini squeezed the other woman’s hand. “One who’s had hundreds of years to hone his skills. Don’t you
ever
blame yourself for what he is.”

A shaky nod. “Th-thanks. Needed to hear.” The other woman seemed to be about to lose consciousness, but blinked rapidly, managed to stay awake. “Cattle poor . . . but Penelope got in-in-inh . . .”

“Inheritance?”

Another faint nod. “T-turned out her McScrooge aunt was rich. L-left it all to her five y-y-years ago.” Air noisy in her lungs, her hand spasmed on Ashwini’s. “It’s in sp—” Throat dry, she couldn’t speak until Ashwini had eased more ice into her mouth. “Aunt didn’t like Giorgio,” the hurt woman said clearly, eyes so bright it was clear she was fighting desperately to communicate all she knew. “House is in special legal trust where Pen can use it till death, but she has no . . .” A wracking cough.

Mind racing, Ashwini said, “She has no control over it—can’t sell it or sign it across to Giorgio?” That had to be the reason why it hadn’t shown up in the searches. Penelope’s name wasn’t on the deed.

Brooke nodded. “The women d-don’t know ’bout him.” A pained inhale. “Don’t hurt them.”

“Don’t worry. They won’t be punished for his crimes. And Brooke—thank you. What you’ve just told me changes everything.”

Brooke’s smile was a shadow, her eyes closing.

Leaving the sleeping woman after freeing her hand, Ashwini walked out to where Janvier stood waiting in the hospital hallway . . . and staggered, would’ve gone to her knees if Janvier hadn’t caught her.

“A minute,” she said, holding on to him, letting his heat warm up the ice in her veins.

“As long as you need.” Arms steel and voice rough, he pressed his lips to her temple.

She wished she could stay in his embrace forever, but she’d made a promise to Felicity, to Brooke, to all of the victims.

Pulling away after that single precious minute, her nausea and pounding head at a more manageable level, she kissed him once before returning to the horror. “Penelope,” she said, already dialing the data team. “She has access to a property.” Rattling off everything she knew to the tech who answered, she put a rush on the information. “Find the aunt and you’ll find the house.”

She’d barely hung up when Carys’s name appeared on her phone. “Two girls are missing,” the woman told Ashwini. “They had a call-out last night, told another girl they were going to be rich, maybe even bag a sugar daddy who’d get them into a Quarter house.”

A knot formed in Ashwini’s gut at the eerie similarity to the line Felicity had been fed. “It’s only overnight,” she said, trying not to leap to a deadly conclusion. “That unusual?”

“Yeah, if Bridget and Marta were overnighting, they would’ve told us. It’s how we look out for one another.”

“Send me their photos. Is there anything else you can think of that might help us find them?”

A pause. “You actually going to help? You’re taking me seriously?”

Nonplussed, Ashwini said, “Why wouldn’t I? You don’t seem like the kind of woman who’d lie.”

“I’m not, but cops don’t take hookers missing overnight seriously.”

“I’m not a cop.”

“Yeah, you’re a hunter.” It sounded like a compliment. “Ransom said you were solid.” A crackling rustle in the background. “Okay, I talked to the girls, as well as a few of the guys who work that area, and the girls were picked up in a black SUV, tinted windows. But it wasn’t a guy inside. It was a woman. I wrote down the description—brunette in her late twenties, good condition. One of the girls noticed she had a nice mani—”

“Gold with diamantés?”

“Yeah, you know the bitch?”

“Yes, I know the bitch.” Hanging up after making sure Carys didn’t have any other useful information, she turned to Janvier and told him Carys’s news. “Penelope knew what Giorgio was the entire time. I fell for her sweet ‘we’re all loyal to one another’ act.” So, she thought, had the brave woman in the hospital bed; Brooke’s only crime was that she’d loved a monster.

Even Dmitri had put only a light watch on the cattle, more to make them feel safe in the hotel where they were currently staying than to lock them in. It would’ve been simple for Penelope to slip out. “I bet you she’s been luring women for him, playing chauffeur. That’s why no one ever saw Giorgio with Felicity.”

Janvier’s eyes blazed.

Not needing him to speak to understand the cold rage in his bones, Ashwini added the information about the black SUV to what she’d already given the data team. It wasn’t much, but if Giorgio or one of the women had a black SUV registered in his or her name, it might give them another way to track the bastard.

The property information came through three minutes later. Turned out the aunt had
two
properties, both tied up in a complicated legal framework that made actual beneficial ownership unclear. “We’ll take the one on the Lower East Side,” she told the tech, she and Janvier having reached his bike. “It’s closer to the hospital.”

“Naasir says he can handle the one on the Upper West Side,” came the response. “Illium’s going with him.”

“Tell them to call if they find anything.” Hanging up, she shared the address with Janvier, and the two of them roared out.

Her phone had another message on it when she checked it after they parked a block down from the three-level freestanding house that had belonged to Penelope’s aunt. “The vehicle’s registered to Marie May,” she told Janvier as they got off the bike. “Guild’s put out an alert.” It would go out to cops, Tower personnel, any hunters in the vicinity.

Janvier, having hung their helmets on either side of the handlebars, stared down the street. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

Following his gaze, Ashwini saw it. “Son of a bitch.” A black SUV with tinted windows was parked directly across from the house.

No way in hell was that a coincidence.

“We can’t wait,” she said. “He’s already had those two women for hours.”

“Front or back?” Janvier asked, sending in a request for urgent backup.

She looked at the building. “You know that climbing thing you do? Can you get up to that third-floor window, figure out a way to get inside?”

Janvier followed her gaze to the closed but not particularly secure-looking window. “Child’s play.”

“You go in, work your way down. I’ll enter through the front.” She caught his scowl, shook her head. “I’ll go in like I’m following up on Penelope, making sure she’s all right after the trauma of discovering Giorgio’s crimes.”

“It’s still a risk.”

Ashwini smiled. So did Janvier. Then they split.

She walked down the sidewalk and up the steps to the front door of the house, while Janvier went left and over the fence of the house on the corner. By the time she rang the front doorbell, she figured he had to be climbing the side of the house.

When no one answered on the first ring, she leaned on it, acting irritated for the benefit of the surveillance camera trained on the doorstep. Meanwhile her stomach churned, her ability picking up something so horrible that she had to shove it aside or she wouldn’t be able to function. Glancing at her watch at the continued lack of an answer from within, she took out her cell phone and rang Penelope. She heard it ring inside the house before it was silenced. The door swung open five seconds later.

No gold choker or silk top this time, but the thigh-length robe of deep blue was richly embroidered.

“Oh, hi!” said the brunette, her eyes glittering and her cheeks flushed. “Sorry about the wait.” A small laugh. “I was shaving my legs.”

Ashwini didn’t glance down, simply smiled as if she’d swallowed the excuse. “I wanted to check up on you,” she said, wondering what lay in the darkness of the hallway behind the woman who played aide to a sadistic psychopath. “Brooke told us you might be here when we couldn’t find you at the hotel with the others.”

Penelope’s mouth thinned at the sound of Brooke’s name, but she recovered quickly. “Oh, I hope I’m not in trouble—I wanted to be in my own home.” She opened the door a little wider. “You can tell everyone I’m fine. And Brooke?” Bright, hard eyes. “She’ll be okay?”

“Yes, the doctors say she’ll make a full recovery.” Ashwini patted the brick cladding. “This is a great place.”

“Isn’t it? My aunt left it to me.” Lower lip quivering, Penelope hugged herself, her distinctive gold and diamanté nails vivid against the dark blue of the robe. “I can’t believe Giorgio did those things, hurt Brooke. I loved him.”

She was, Ashwini thought, a pathologically good liar. She was also now a step outside the doorway, having instinctively followed Ashwini when she shifted back. Continuing to smile, Ashwini leaned in toward her and said, “I can blow a hole through your gut in the time it takes for you to scream, so don’t.”

Penelope froze midbreath, her mouth open like that of a blowfish.

Remaining close to block the expression on Penelope’s face from the camera, she said, “Is Giorgio inside that house?” She dug the gun into Penelope’s side when the other woman didn’t answer quickly enough, no mercy in her with the memory of Brooke’s battered face at the forefront of her mind.

“Y-yes.”

“Who else?”

A twist of her lips. “Nothing but two whores I picked up off the street.”

Ashwini flicked off the safety. “Don’t lie to me. I don’t like you and I’ll have no hesitation in putting a bullet through your pretty face to mess it up.”

Smugness wiped away, Penelope whimpered. “You can’t do that.”

“Self-defense. Who do you think the Guild is going to believe? Me or a dead blood junkie who sold out her sister?”

“Brooke isn’t my sister! She’s a piece of trash who shamed our master.”

“One last chance.” Ashwini shoved in the gun hard enough that it would bruise, her voice ice-cold. “Who else is inside the house?”

Goose bumps on her skin, Penelope crumbled. “The other master,” she whispered. “The old one.”

“Who watches the surveillance feed?”

“The master,” she said. “He’ll see you.” She began to smirk.

Ashwini reached out as if to hug Penelope and stabbed two fingers into a particular part of her throat. It made the brunette’s eyes go wide, a retching sound escaping her before she slumped. Slinging an arm around the dazed woman, she gave up any attempt at stealth and shoved the door fully open to see no one lying in wait.

She dumped a moaning Penelope in the hallway and, pulling out the belt of the woman’s elaborate robe, used it to hog-tie her, hands behind her back and ankles lashed to her wrists. A slash with one of her blades and she had another piece of the robe to use as a gag. “Wouldn’t want you calling out to your precious Giorgio at the wrong time,” she muttered. Finished, she set Penelope on her side to make sure she could breathe.

The entire operation took her under a minute and her skin crawled the whole time, but she figured Giorgio was too much of a coward to come at her straight-on. No, the pencil-dicked bastard would be hiding somewhere, ready to ambush her like he’d ambushed the women who had trusted him.

Ignoring the daggers Penelope was throwing at her with her eyes, she slid away the knife she’d used to cut up the robe and pulled out her secondary gun from an ankle sheath. Both guns held out, she took a step toward the first closed door on this floor.

•   •   •

H
aving scrambled up the side of the building, Janvier got to the old-fashioned bay window and looking through the parted curtains, confirmed the room beyond was empty. He could’ve broken a pane to get in, but the noise might alert anyone up here—so he used a trick he’d learned from a jewel thief, and broke the hinges instead, using a sharp blade and vampiric strength.

Grabbing the falling half of the window, he lowered it quietly to the floor, then slid in, his kukris in hand the instant his feet touched the carpet. One ear open for Ash, he scanned the room to find it comparatively bare, though there were a few feminine accoutrements lying about.

Including a pretty yellow scarf with purple butterflies half hanging out of a drawer.

His mind flashed to the photo of Felicity with her friends, all with cocktails in hand . . . and Felicity with that scarf around her neck.

This had to be where she, Lilli, and the other victims had lived before Giorgio put them in the crates. The place where they’d tried to become “good enough” to move into Giorgio’s Vampire Quarter house. Clamping down his rage, and taking a quick look around to make sure he wasn’t missing anything, he stepped out into the corridor.

To the left was what proved to be a bathroom when he pushed the door open. It, too, was empty. As was the room next to it. That room had a tiny decorative balcony on the side not visible from the street, but it was so small he could see no one was on it from a glance through the sliding doors. That left the right-hand side of the floor.

It had two doors, and the first one was locked. Sliding away one of his blades, he took a small metal wire from his pocket, another little trick he’d learned from his larcenous friend. Ten seconds later, there was a small click that said he was in. The sound was tiny, but Janvier knew some older vamps had hearing that was preternaturally acute. Putting away the wire, he waited, listening at the door.