Heroes (20 page)

“Nobody ever gave me a silver knife,” Geoff told Char. “What do I do?”

“Fangs and claws,” she answered, crouching, changing. “Fangs and claws.”

Geoff concentrated on the fangs, the claws all right, not his own, but the ones coming toward him. And on the glowing beast’s eyes full of cunning and hunger. It was a mistake to meet the creature’s eyes.

Hunger flashed between them. Hot desire—for blood, for sex, for meat. “Yours,” Geoff said, the memory of Moira’s death blocking the baser needs that called to him.

The mortal woman between the Nighthawks and the vampire stopped screaming. Geoff didn’t know if she saw him and Char or not. What she did was fall to the ground, and roll, getting out of the way.

The vampire started to lunge after her. Char sprang forward. Geoff was less than a heartbeat behind her. They struck in unison, claws and fangs. It was the vampire’s turn to scream. Char’s claws dug through flesh, and ribs. Geoff came in through the vampire’s spine. Bones cracked loudly. He and Char’s hands closed together around a beating heart. Their gazes met over the body, eyes glowing with hunter’s fire.

After you,
Geoff thought at his hunting partner, and loosed his hold.

Char didn’t act the lady. She let him back off from the body. She took the heart out of it, and let the dead creature drop at her feet. It was the sexiest move Geoff had ever seen.

She didn’t eat the heart, but squeezed it hard in her fist. Blood pumped out, staining the sidewalk and walls to either side. It covered Char’s clothes, and she held an arm over her face to keep the blood off her muzzle and out of her eyes. She held on to the heart until it stopped beating, then threw it away in a hard lob that bounced the dead muscle off a wall and into the gutter.

Geoff licked his lips, wanting to taste the hot blood and heart meat, but he understood why Char didn’t consume the prize. The creature had been a neon junkie to begin with, then changed helplessly into hunting form by magic. Why take even a faint risk of infection for a snack?

He wanted to taste her too, to lick the blood off her face, and the black shirt that didn’t show the red stains, and to mate. He loved the way she reacted with merciless instinct when the time came to act. She was a woman of compassion and a stone killer all at once. Damn, that was hot!

Char changed back into human form with such speed that Geoff had trouble following it. Not all that practiced in the transformation, it took him a long moment of hard concentration to change back, and it hurt a little.

“Damn,” he muttered when he had a mouth that could form words again.

He looked around for Char, and saw her starting to kneel by the hunched form of the mortal woman. The woman sat up as Char knelt, and everyone’s attention was drawn to the mortal man dressed in black leather who ran silently up to them from the direction of the chase.

“Della?” the newcomer called. He rushed up to the woman. “Baby, you okay?”

“Santini?” Char asked, jumping to her feet. “Santini?”

“You’re late!” Della shouted, letting Santini help her up. Once on her feet, she smacked him on the shoulder. “That was
not
how the plan was supposed to go!”

“Got tackled by a fairy—or something,” Santini explained to his angry bride. “Baker had to drive the bastard off with a flamethrower.” He talked as he patted her down, brushed her off. “You’re okay, right? No bites?”

“I’ve been bitten plenty of times,” the former companion reminded her husband. “But not by that loser.” Della turned to look at Geoff and Char. “Thanks.”

Char angrily faced the mortals. “What the hell were you doing? Using Della as bait?”

“Yep,” Santini replied. “Second time in the last half hour. Sorry it didn’t come off like clockwork this time, baby.”

Della’s anger at her mate seemed to have passed. She patted his bearded cheek. “At least I’m okay. It’s a good plan.”

“Gotta go,” Santini said to Geoff and Char. “Can’t leave Baker holding the fort.” He took Della’s hand and they started back the way they’d come. “Thanks for the help,” he called as they left.

Geoff looked down at the dead vampire, mind racing. The critter had been set up, trapped. Not a bad idea.

“Bait,” Geoff said thoughtfully. He glanced over his shoulder, into the darkness where the city’s Enforcer wandered, hunted. Geoff could feel the bespelled Nighthawk’s searching hunger. He wasn’t looking for just any victim. The need in Duke was specific. Not for Chinese, or for pizza, but for—

“A Nighthawk,” Char said, grabbing Geoff’s arm. “He wants a Nighthawk.”

Geoff smiled slowly. “We can give him one.”

“Bait,” Char agreed.

“Eddie,” they said together.

 
Ice flayed the skin off Ben’s back as he crawled out of the cage, but he accepted the pain for the chance to get to freedom. Besides, the vicious cold almost felt good in the rising temperature of the room. It was raining in the room now, and steam was rising. He had to get out. He had to get out now. Rain wasn’t going to save him.

He thought he could save himself. Thought he knew how, when he could think at all—’cause his brain was trying to go away. Animal easier. The longer he was in beast shape, the more beast he became.
Smart beast,
he told himself.
Remember you’re a smart beast. Try to be.

He had to get to Reese. Magic was in Reese. Magic had to die. Reese had to die.

Despite the fear, despite the pain, Ben smiled at that. Hunter’s mask wasn’t made to smile, but the snarl that pulled at his muzzle would do.

He wanted, needed to run once he’d managed to crawl out from under the bottom of the cage. Tough as his skin was, his hands were shredded. Broken claws were growing back, and the regeneration brought nothing but more pain.

The monster was crying now, making sharp, mewling sounds. Ben couldn’t look at the thing, not when it was growing out of Clare’s disintegrating body. The stench of her burning was still in the air. Fire flickered on the edge of Ben’s enhanced peripheral vision. He was going to burn too, if he didn’t get out soon.

Animal mind wanted to run. Beast said running was the only way to survive. He could outrun anything.

Not this. Not this.

He was beast, but he wasn’t the monster here.

He crawled, crawled. Get to Reese. Get to door. Then get to Reese. Inch, inch, inch. Rain poured onto his back. Water ran beneath hands and knees. Water was rising to a boil. Burning. Fire and water and air burning.

Ben found the door. He hadn’t believed he would. He had to stand then, with that thing at his back.

Ben made a picture of Clare form in the beast’s mind. He made the beast remember the taste of blood. Hunger for Reese’s blood.

Even fear of the monster couldn’t stop the need for blood. Need for revenge. Need for freedom.

He rose out of the boiling water, prayed the scalding steam would hide him. He found the doorknob. Claws made it harder, but he turned it. He jerked so hard the door came off its hinges. Ben fell forward, water pouring out into the hall with him. There were more sprinklers going off out here. An alarm sounded in the distance. Fire alarm, Ben recognized the sound. Sprinklers spraying water. Automatic systems doing their job. Where were people? Where security? Cameras everywhere. Who watching? Clare? Clare was gone.

Companions, then? Nest members? Slaves? Where were his crew? They were charged with protecting this place.

Reese, he remembered. Reese’s magic. Reese must have hurt all of them. Now the place was on fire.

Monster’s doing. Monster would kill all.

But the beast would kill Reese first. Make up for having started it all.

Back in the dressing room, the monster screamed.

In the hall, the beast scrambled to his feet and ran.

 
“Do you know anything about vampire history, Mr. Haven?”

Haven already knew that no matter how he answered Valentine’s question, he was in for a lecture. It seemed like every woman he met was a talker. Was there something about his aura that—

“Projects that you’re a good listener,” Valentine finished the thought for him.

Haven took his concentration off weaving through the heavy traffic long enough to give Valentine a dirty look.

“You strong, silent types make us girls want to confide in you.”

“Nah,” he answered. “I think it’s because I’ve started hanging with geeks.”

She smiled, her dark eyes glowing. When Char showed off her vampire side, he always found it at least a bit disturbing. But from Valentine it was kind of cute. He had the feeling that she had to make an effort to act like a vampire.

“I’m old,” she explained to him. “It becomes less important. At least, the urgency dies down to a mostly manageable level.”

“Mostly?”

“I’m not dead yet. Now, where was I?”

Haven didn’t answer. His driving was automatic now. Most of his attention was on the Silk Road as they approached it. Invisible energy pulsed and twined around the huge building’s many spires and domes. It was like he saw the place through a kind of midnight heat haze. And the haze was spreading.

“Don’t like the look of it,” he said.

“And there’s a black-hearted feel to it as well,” the old vampire added. “Black magic. I hate black magic.”

Haven canted an eyebrow at her. “Don’t vampires come from black magic?” Oh, God, he thought. Now I’ve done it. There was no one to blame now but himself if Valentine went off on the lecture circuit.

“Yes,” she answered. “We were created by an act of evil. The first vampires brought it all on themselves.”

“Really,” he said in a tone he hoped would convey,
Please don’t say any more.

It didn’t stop her. “There used to be a lot more magic in the world, Haven. A whole lot. Magic is energy.”

“Yeah. I know that.”

“You know how astronomers say that the universe is made up of stuff created during the Big Bang?”

“I try not to watch the Discovery Channel.”

“There’s stuff they know a little about, like gravity and matter and—stuff. But there’s all this energy they can’t find. Dark matter, I think they call it. I think magic’s part of what the universe is made of. It exists, but it’s dissipating. Or maybe there just aren’t as many sentient beings around these days who can use it.”

“Seems like you vampires might be responsible for some of that.”

“Maybe,” she agreed. “But in the old days most people had access to some kind of magical sensitivity. Many people were so powerful that they were acknowledged as gods. There was a goddess who lived among a nomadic people, a very long time ago. She was immortal—always young, always beautiful. She found a way to share her immortality with her people. Every decade or so there would be a gathering of her whole tribe. During a secret ceremony she would open her veins and let her blood flow into an elixir she made out of herbs and wine. Then her priests and priestesses would pass chalices of this sacred wine among the people. The elixir added to their lifespan, cured sickness. It was a great gift from the goddess to the people she loved. But people are stupid, selfish, and incredibly greedy.”

“That’s the truth,” Haven agreed. They were sitting at a stoplight. He would have run it, but they were in a center lane, surrounded by far too many cars for the Jeep to clear. “Why are we driving to the hotel?” he asked Valentine. “You could have gotten there on your own power long before now.”

“I’ve never taken up the vampire sport of running,” she answered. “Besides, I need to be in an enclosed space for a while.” She touched the door frame and ran a hand across the passenger side window. “Flimsy as this box of metal and glass is, I find being inside walls comforting. It’s a rough night, you don’t want me getting panicky on you.”

“Point taken,” he told her. “That why you need to talk so much? To help keep it together?”

“Yes.”

The light changed and he pressed down on the gas. “Then keep talking, sister.”

“All right. How much further?”

Haven squinted, concentrated hard on the street. “Hard to tell. It keeps seeming farther away—then closer. Like a mirage. And don’t tell me that we’ve already passed the Mirage.”

“I did notice the volcano going off as we drove by. Don’t you love the surrealistic nature of this town? About the Goddess,” Valentine went on.

Haven noticed the glint of a small silver pendant hanging on a chain around Valentine’s neck, resting just above the V-neck of her black dress. The pendant was a tiny figure of a bare-breasted woman in a long belled skirt. The woman was holding a pair of snakes. Valentine touched the figure when she noticed him looking. “That the vampire goddess?” he asked.

“No,” she answered. “The Lady of Snakes is someone else’s goddess. To continue the vampire goddess’s tale, somebody in her priesthood came up with a truly stupid idea. Not satisfied with a long, healthy life, the priests decided they wanted to be immortal too. So, they figured that if drinking a few drops of the goddess’s blood was so beneficial, imagine what consuming the goddess would do for them. They decided to kill and eat her.”

Haven didn’t shock easily, but this rattled him. “How do you kill a goddess?” he asked.

“Very good question. One this ancient priesthood apparently didn’t consider. What they did involved the darkest form of magic. They had a lot of power between them, and used it to bespell specially forged silver daggers.”

“That’s where the Enforcer blades come from?”

“I suppose the traditional weapon of the Enforcers comes from the old legends,” she answered. “The priesthood used their magic knives to kill the goddess. They drank her blood, ate her flesh. Reveled in the lust of killing.”

“Then they turned into vampires.”

“Not yet. I bet you were a bugger to tell bedtime stories too.”

Haven could not recall anyone ever having told him bedtime stories. He had not had that kind of a childhood. “Go on,” he told Valentine.