Know Thine Enemy (13 page)

"
Look," she continued, "I don't know much. They say they're with something called C.R.O.S.S., but I forget what that stands for. Anyw—"

"
Community Representatives of Subhuman Species," Ryker supplied, his jaw and his stomach clenching. "Goddammit."

"
You know them?"

"
I've heard. Seen the flyers. Nice little vamp-run, anti-vamp cult. Not the first, not the last, but definitely the most annoying."

"
Yeah, well, they seem to mean business."

"
Always do."

She stared at him for a long beat, her expression melting from frenzied to confused.
"All right, there's that. I guess. I just wanted to tell you."

"
That I'm in danger."

"
Yeah."

He smiled tightly.
"Didn't know you cared."

"
Don't expect a Christmas card or anything. They wanted something and I didn't give it to them." Izzie bounced the duffle bag again. "Not in the habit of lending a hand to bloodsuckers."

"
And here you are, delivering a message to yours truly."

She
rolled her eyes. "Don't read too much into it. You're just the creep that pissed me off the least, so it seemed a professional courtesy."

"
And it would be, if I were in the profession." Ryker frowned and took a step forward, his gaze roaming the length of her body. Clearly, he only had half the story, if that. Something lurked in her eyes, something she kept close to her chest and likely wouldn't share even with the help of a few stiff drinks. Whatever it was had shattered the small world in which she encased herself. She wasn't here with her friend and she wasn't here to hunt. She was here for him.

Something bolted through his body, leaving him burned and rattled.

Who are you, little girl?

But he didn
't say that. Instead, he sealed another step between them, his voice dropping. "What happened to you?"

Izzie balked.
"What?"

"
Something has you spooked."

"
I don't get spooked."

"
Sorry to break it to you, but the human condition does come with its flaws, and that's one of them." Ryker's head tilted. "Why'd you really come out here?"

"
I already told you. These vamps want you dead in a big ole permanent way. I thought you'd wanna know."

"
Always glad to hear of a death threat," he agreed. "But it still doesn't answer why you'd care to tell me in the first place."

She tensed at that, but so slightly he wouldn
't have caught it were he not paying attention.

"
What does it matter?" she demanded. "You know now, and now it's your problem. And on that note, thanks. It's been really disturbing getting to know you. Feel free to not stalk me to the next city."

"
Izz—"

The smell hit him then, and whatever doubts he
'd harbored, whatever silent wishes he'd sent out effectively evaporated. Missing pieces of a puzzle he'd long ago left unfinished found themselves in alignment.

Michael was here.

For vampires, a familiar scent packed a mean punch. It wasn't a matter of strength or degree, but rather how the senses pulled on the memory. Ryker had known their paths would cross again. He hadn't mortally wounded his cousin that night in the Natchez cemetery, yet reports of his death—and the disappearance of his body—had given Ryker all the clues he needed.

Why Michael had kept his distance all these years was the true mystery. Ryker had always felt him. Always sensed through means he couldn
't explain that his cousin had survived the long years. The first time he'd heard rumors of an anti-vampire society run by vampires, Ryker's immediate thoughts had gone to the man he'd left vulnerable, helpless on hallowed ground. Food for the taking, and Natchez certainly crawled with the hungry undead. Had Michael asked to be turned? Had he wanted revenge so desperately he would become what he hated in order to secure it?

If his cousin hoped to keep the element of surprise, he would have to live with disappointment. Izzie had spoiled Michael
's punch-line.

Ryker drew a tight smile and focused his attention again on his favorite hunter, trying and failing to ignore the pang that struck his chest at the lost look on her face. She had no idea into what she
'd wandered. And no matter what his original motives might have been, Ryker had led her into a blood-war she could not have imagined.

All because he
'd followed her at a friend's request.

"
If you wanna leave, the time is now," Ryker said. "Your fan club has arrived."

"
What?"

He didn
't get a chance to reply. A strange whistle sliced the air. By the time he realized what it was, Izzie's eyes rolled up and her body went boneless, a dart protruding from her neck. Her duffle bag hit the ground and she tumbled after it—only he was there before she could smash into the pavement.

Something rustled in the shadows.
"Always quick, weren't you, Niles?"

Ryker released a steadying breath and hiked Izzie in his arms. Whatever else, he needed to get her out of here alive. He
'd already done enough damage. "You can come out now," he said loudly. "I know you're there."

"
Only because I want you to know," Michael agreed as he stepped into the light. He looked the same and different all at once—gone was the shade of the man Ryker had known in life, as well as the drunken buffoon who had followed him to Caroline's gravesite. No, this was a face transposed on a man who no longer existed.

"
I'm surprised," he continued, nodding to the unconscious woman in Ryker's arms. "I didn't expect you to catch her."

"
It was the polite thing to do," Ryker replied.

"
Yes, and you're all about manners now, aren't you?"

"
She has nothing to do with this."

"
No." Michael sighed wistfully. "I had rather hoped she would help be a means to your end, but the stupid girl got it in her head that you were worth saving."

"
Poor thing couldn't help it. It's my natural charm." Ryker glanced at Izzie's face. Her breaths were steady and deep. "So you've moved on to bigger and better things," he said, forcing himself to look away.

"
You don't look surprised to see me."

He shrugged.
"You were passed out. Some vamp decided to make you his chew-toy . . . or did you think you were different?"

Michael
's eyes burned. "I
am
different."

"
Oh, because of your special club?" Ryker's lips pulled into a smirk. "Yeah, I know all about that, too. Gets quite a buzz where I'm from. 'Course, no one takes it seriously. A group of immortal crybabies determined to get justice for a crime that wasn't committed."

"
I didn't ask for this," he hissed.

"
Of course not. That's exactly why you're still alive."

"
I had unfinished business to tend to."

Ryker barked a laugh.
"So you suffered through immortality and godlike strength just for me? I'm touched."

"
For
her,
you bastard. She had even less of a choice than I did." Michael made a face. "I knew what you were."

"
And Izzie gets the shaft?"

"
Casualty of war," his cousin replied, shrugging lazily. "You remember war, don't you? She knew what she was getting into, too."

"
Not with you."

"
I admit I went to certain lengths to make sure you wouldn't detect me." A smug smile stretched across Michael's face. "You see, working with the government has secured a few provisions. Like C.R.O.S.S., certain people very high on the pay scale think creatures like you need to be eradicated, or at the very least muzzled. They're willing to work with us to attain our goal. We scratch their backs, and so on."

"
Ah," Ryker said. "Let me get this straight . . . you're talking with a government you hate after becoming your worst nightmare, duping other vamps into line and forming a members-only club, all just to get me? And here I didn't think you cared."

The smile faded.
"This isn't about you."

"
Yeah. Can't imagine where I got that idea."

"
This is about all of
your
kind. Those who spit in the face of God and align themselves with evil."

"
Don't look now, but you're not exactly in the position to throw stones."

"
To destroy your kind, I had to become you, even if it means I am eternally damned." Michael shuddered. "You're just a means to an end."

"
Took you long enough to get to that end."

"
Good things come to those who wait. And I have waited."

Ryker pulled Izzie closer to his chest. The rush of her pulse and the steady beats of her heart were oddly calming.
"Shouldn't have wasted so much time with the overture," he advised. "I—"

Pain exploded throughout his body
with all the effect of a cannon to the chest. Ryker gasped, his knees buckling and the girl in his arms tumbling to the unforgiving ground. He watched as Izzie rolled out of reach, her skin scraping against concrete and sending sweet whiffs of blood into the air. The stake in his back dug deeper, hardening his muscles to stone. The world threatened to blink away.

"
Sorry," Michael said. "Juliette must have gotten bored waiting for my cue. Don't take it personally. She has a short attention span."

The pressure in his head
exploded. Ryker forced his eyes to stay open, lingering on his demon hunter's still body. He had to stay awake. He had to move. He had to do something.

For her.

Fight it, fight it, fight it.

Shadows swallowed the alley. Izzie
's face carried him into the dark, and then he saw no more.

Chapter Seven

He felt nothing at first—not the ground beneath his body or the air against his skin. There was no sound, either. No scent. Nothing that gave off any indicators as to where he was, what had happened, or how he'd gotten there. A vast nothingness filled the cavern in his chest, mocking the gaping hole in his memory. His eyes fought to open but failed. He felt drugged. He felt completely dead.

Gentle footsteps graced the air, punctuated by the soft breaths of a nearby human. Then something pulled at his back and the world returned in a rush. The human disappeared just as quickly
. Ryker's body jerked, a ripple of pain shooting down his spine. He coughed up a mouthful of blood and fought the pull of gravity by attempting to sit up. Everything spun. The air smelled crisp and sanitized, so he had to be indoors. His temples pounded, and places in his head that had never hurt before screamed in agony.

Oh Jesus. Oh shit.

Did this happen every time a stake met a vampire's heart? He'd never experienced the paralysis before, nor what happened when the thing was removed. Physical agony wasn't something he worried about, as being immortal had a way of giving one perspective. Surviving pain didn't have the same connotations as it did for humans. In this lifetime, what didn't kill him truly made him stronger.

Except the stake. The stake felt like a wooden chunk of hell on Earth.

Ryker's eyes opened as his body lurched forward. He ignored protestations of his muscles and retched up more of his dinner. Blood didn't look as good coming up as it did going down.

"
Fuck. Me," he gasped. He climbed to his knees and braced his hands on his thighs, several different things clicking at once. His jeans had been replaced with sweats, but the T-shirt he'd worn earlier remained in place. The floor was sleek and gray, and provided one hell of a reflection for the fluorescent lights above. A few more blinks brought other details into focus. The room was small with white walls. There was no furniture, no windows, nothing beyond a heavy door and a small pane of glass peering into what he presumed was the outside hallway. Another wave of nausea whipped through his body. Ryker panted, forcing himself to ignore his queasiness and pain. Right now, nothing mattered more than getting to his feet.

Izzie.

He froze. Izzie. She'd been with him. In the alleyway. In his arms. On the pavement. She'd fallen to the ground.

He groaned, pulling himself up. His legs wobbled and threatened to
collapse, but he managed to remain upright.

Michael was here
—somewhere. Alive in this world. Sometimes Ryker hated being right, almost as much as he hated being caught off guard. Perhaps if he'd been more vigilant, kept his mind on a confrontation he'd known, in one way or another, he was bound to have one day, all this could have been avoided. Then again, while Ryker knew to keep an eye on his back, as most vampires did, his thoughts of late had been far from the Prentiss family and the Natchez cemetery, too occupied with a certain young woman.