Know Thine Enemy (5 page)

"
Load of good it'll do you there."

"
I fight better up close," Izzie replied. "Crossbow's your style. It won't do me any good, regardless of where it is."

He nodded at her cross necklace, his features darkening slightly. There were certain things Wright would never understand; in his world, the only way to fight was
his
way. He didn't understand the benefits of touching the enemy.

Not like Izzie did, at least. She couldn
't kill unless she met the bastard's eyes before she shoved her blade through his chest. She wasn't certain what she searched for, but what she found was never enough. Perhaps when she found the elusive
it,
she would know some peace.

"
More good than that will do," Wright said finally, his gaze still locked on her necklace.

She had no reply for him, but that was okay. They had this argument at least twice a week. Izzie never brought enough weaponry with her, and what she did bring held higher sentimental value than practical. The dagger had once been painted with the first blood she
'd ever stolen, and the cross was the last gift she'd ever received. The last real gift, at least. The last one that had come in a box wrapped in pretty paper and a bow.

Wright hated the cross. While he acknowledged sentimental value, he hated what it represented. He hated who had given it to her. He saw her unwillingness to part with it as weakness, whereas Izzie saw it as a solemn reminder of everything that had passed. She couldn
't ignore Harrison Bennett's ghost if she carried it with her wherever she went.

"
You put too much stock into that powerless piece of shit."

"
I fail to see how that's your problem."

"
I don't wanna have to train someone new, is all. Berlie likes you too much."

"
So your concern for my well-being is selfish. Good to know."

"
I just don't get it."

"
Well, Zack, we have had this conversation a time or two." Izzie fingered the stretch of silver almost fondly. Aside from her need for connection, she'd grown too accustomed to its weight to leave it on a nightstand. "Just leave it alone."

He shrugged.
"Right. Where you heading tonight?"

"
Warehouse district." Back to the scene of the crime. He'd be there. The vampire. She knew he would.

Wright
's nose wrinkled. "The lofts? Again?"

"
I got a couple leads last night."

"
About the lofts?"

"
Couple kids gone missing. College age, and about as bright when it comes to picking friends as you were about picking me."

That much was the truth, but she heard the spike in her voice
, the one that triggered whenever she felt she was being dishonest. Catholic guilt, however suppressed, shot through her veins like an old friend. She hated when that happened. Made her think she had a taste of what living inside Berlie's head might feel like, and that was something she'd like to avoid.

Wright
's daughter was freakishly intelligent, but plagued with unwanted dark thoughts. Berlie constantly worried she would hurt someone against her will, and, while her father attributed the fears to the life they led, Izzie couldn't help but think it was something more.

But that had to wait for another discussion. Tonight she had room for only one problem, and her vampire friend posed a more immediate threat than Berlie
's spectral obsessions.

"
Same story wherever we go." Wright sighed and collected his crossbow, strapping it on his shoulder. "All right. I'm headed to finish last night's rounds."

"
The strip, right?"

He nodded.
"You want me to make sure you get across the river all right?"

Izzie snickered. They
'd been in East St. Louis a few weeks now, though their hunting took them across the Popular Street Bridge. Wright didn't like staying where they could be easily sniffed out, and since East St. Louis's reputation minimized the tourism, it seemed the best bet. Their motel, Royal-something-or-other, was seedy and inconspicuous. Wright reasoned no vamp would expect them to retreat to the gutter after taking out the trash.

Only
a vamp
had
found them. Found
her
. And she was determined to find out why.

"
I'll make it fine," she said.

"
You're a woman—"

"
And anyone who messes with me will have their ass handed to them. Come on, Wright. Do
you
want to take me on?"

That question bordered on uncomfortable. Thankfully
, he didn't touch it.

Instead, he looked down and heaved another sigh.
"Right. Right. You takin' the bike or the Chevy?"

"
Bike."

"'
Kay. Meet me near Laclede's Landing by four a.m."

"
You got it, Boss."

Wright flashed a
rare grin. "Be safe."

Izzie did her best to match him
with her return smile, but knew she lacked the spark he possessed.

This had never been her fight.

* * * * *

"
Yer sure?"

Ryker shrugged, tossing back a healthy gulp of whatever brew Connor had slid under his nose.
"Gave the girl ample opportunity to stick it to me," he replied, smacking his lips. "Aside from the beauty mark she left on my eye, she didn't take the bait."

Connor
's gaze drifted to the eye in question. "If yer sure . . . ."

"
I'm sure."

"
A hunter who don't hunt 'less she's hunted." The bartender inhaled deeply and nodded. "Right then. Guess she's okay. Tink she'll be in t'night?"

Ryker grinned.
"I'm counting on it. Only so many places she could've picked up a tail, and I can tell you she doesn't frequent other bars."

"
Don't mean she'll be in."

"
She will. She'll be looking for me."

"
You tink so?"

Oh, he thought so. The look she
'd flashed him before her fist connected with his eye left little to the imagination. Something had spooked her, something that would burrow under her moonlight skin just as surely as she'd tunneled under his. She hadn't been followed before, and she certainly hadn't been confronted . . . and, dangerous as it was, the seed of curiosity had been planted. She'd be back.

Which was just fine.
Seeing her, talking with her, being in her space had only fueled the hunger. He needed to know more—why she fought if she had no reason, how strong her ties were to the man with whom she traveled, what had happened to her family, and why any girl her age would choose her life over actual living.

He wanted to know her. Honest enigmas weren
't so easy to come by when one had an eternity to wander the Earth. And while discovering what lay beneath Izzie's dainty exterior might disappoint him, he was willing to bet the house it would be worth the trouble of investigating.

"
Tink I'll make her sumfink special ta eat," Connor said with a toothy grin. "Poor ting's all skin an' bones. What do ya tink?"

"
She getting the royalty treatment 'cause she's not a threat?"

The bartender shrugged.
"Could use some security every now an' then."

"
I doubt she wants to go on salary, Conn."

"
Never know, do ya?"

Ryker shook his head and nursed another sip. No, he supposed you never di
d.

Chapter Three

The ride had never been steady, but each spin she took on the Harley brought it closer to retirement in the big scrap pile in the sky. Three years ago, the grateful owner of a pawnshop in South Central LA had given Izzie the right to any bike in his inventory after she cleared out the nest of vamps squatting in his storage shed. She'd been in need of a ride and the Harley seemed as good a choice as any. Truthfully, she hadn't anticipated it lasting six months in its condition. Now she didn't know what she would do the day she took it for its last ride, and she always held out for disappointment when straddling its worn leather seat. The bike provided freedom Wright's Chevy could not, and it was the fruit of her own labor.

Izzie sighed and leaned into the corner at McPherson. The alley stood vacant, without even a sign of the vamp she
'd nailed through the heart. She forced down the lump in her throat and shook off what she refused to call disappointment. Finding no sign of Mr. Personality was a
good
thing. It meant she hadn't been followed.

Of course,
if she were wrong, she'd have to bite the bullet and tell Wright they were compromised in a big ole way, and then St. Louis would be a memory.

She didn
't want to think about that. She loved the city too much to give it up. St. Louis had personality other cities didn't; it made her feel close to home, even if the idea remained elusive.

And it had The Wall. She loved The Wall.
The bar was her one sanctuary—the only place she knew about that Wright didn't. Let him think he had a beat on her wherever she went if it made him feel safer. Izzie acknowledged the wisdom behind the buddy system, but she also accepted that trouble would find her no matter how careful she was. Assuming otherwise in her line of work was unrealistic, and, quite frankly, set the expectations a bit too high.

She knew the source of Wright
's obsessive over-protectiveness, however, and she had too much respect for him to call him out on it. No man could have seen what he'd seen and done what he'd done and emerged any better. Yet for all her understanding, certain things became clearer as she grew older—things she knew she would one day have to confront. Things she one day wouldn't be able to ignore any longer.

Her history wasn
't as colorful as Wright's and she didn't bear his grudge, which occasionally steered them into brick walls. He viewed everything that went bump in the night as a threat to eliminate, no questions asked. And though she understood his methods and reasoning, there stood between them a defining ideological difference. His mission would always be search-and-destroy, and she couldn't say the same. Not when the darkest evil she'd ever encountered had possessed human hands.

A certain cadence thrived in larger cities, echoing through the streets and pounding through the air. The larger the city was, the less conventional its curfews and the more engaged its nightlife. By their nature, metropolises were demon magnets
—they provided more places to lurk, more people to eat, and enough noise to let the demons go unnoticed. Unless one of Wright's elusive contacts caught wind of something particularly nasty brewing, he never made extended plans to stay anywhere that lacked a solidly disturbing reputation.

Yet despite its rather considerable crime rate, St. Louis felt familiar and safe, even when
Izzie ventured through the sketchier neighborhoods. Of course, she took some measure of comfort in knowing she could handle herself if need be, and, though Izzie certainly knew she was mortal, the terrain was hers. She knew how to make her way without being seen.

The streets were alive with college students, tourists,
whole families, and single men and women avoiding home for the company of strangers. The Wall sat in the heart of a cluster of restaurants. City consensus labeled it an eyesore, but Izzie couldn't help but admire its charm. The business survived largely by virtue of word-of-mouth since the owner, Connor O'Malley, didn't have the money to advertise. And, while he'd received numerous offers for the property, he refused to sell for the sake of family pride.

Izzie could admire that, even if she didn
't understand it. Family and pride were two concepts that had never gone hand-in-hand for her.

The Wall was also a demon hotspot, and it was easy to see why. The pub
's location was prime for picking off pedestrians. Izzie had scoped out the pub and almost immediately made a habit of dropping in to observe. While by no means the only popular demon haunt in St. Louis, it was one that always produced results. If Izzie had to guess, she'd say Connor O'Malley hadn't had a good night's rest since opening the doors.

After parking the bike in a nearby garage, Izzie made her way up Central West End
's trademark cobblestone streets before ducking through the familiar entrance. She met Connor's gaze, offered a soft smile in greeting, and retreated to the shadowy corner she made home during every visit.

Izzie
wasn't shy of  company long. Within a few minutes, Connor approached her booth, a plate towering with cheesy fries and a greasy burger in one hand and a frothy beer in the other. Before she could utter a word, he plopped both items onto the table.