Of A Darker Nature (3 page)

“Fully healed?” Interest flickered in her sister’s brown eyes.

“Believe me, I regret telling your detective friend that the dead man ran away, but what else was I supposed to do? Lie?”

“There has to be a rational explanation.”

“I read him, Liz. He was good and dead.”

“Nonsense.”

“Right. It doesn’t fit in the idyllic world you’ve created for yourself. Therefore, it must be bogus. Just like the other things you can’t explain, huh? You’re so obtuse sometimes.”

Liz opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. “Can’t you at least pretend to be ordinary?”

Why was this a hot button issue with her? Most of the time, she didn’t even mention the ability or practice it. “I wish I could, but this is who I am. Until you acknowledge that, I guess we’ll always be at odds.”

“I’m sorry, but I won’t be coming around anymore.” Liz’s gaze hardened. “Don’t bother to call or drop by. I’ll be unavailable.”

“See if I care.” Emily tilted her chin up and pretended that Liz’s words didn’t sting. “And how do you know Detective Hahm anyway?”

Liz allowed a half smile. “She’s a client. I do her taxes.”

Her sister made a hasty retreat to her car and backed out of the driveway. Emily watched her taillights until they disappeared into the inky blackness. Finally, she closed the door and locked it. 

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Brenda’s arms crushed Emily in a hug. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Emily stayed in the shower until she used up all the hot water. After that, she dropped onto the faded patchwork quilt her mother had made for a long ago birthday. Now, as she lay curled in a fetal position, fear crept over her. What if something terrible crawled through the window while she slept? The guys from the mortuary could have followed her home. They might be outside the window right now watching, waiting.

Emily had never been one to let others fight her battles, but just this once she would welcome a bedside vigil from her hero, John Doe. She clutched the blanket beneath her chin and shifted her eyes in the darkness. She strained to hear each and every noise in the house, imagined or not. Her mind scrambled to grasp what was real and what wasn’t. There seemed to be a fine line that separated the two and Emily no longer knew where it began or ended.

She spied the toe tag on the nightstand where she’d left it. “John Doe,” it read. It seemed silly, but she tucked it beneath her pillow to ward off any unpleasant dreams.

Marcus made his way to the newest hideout, careful to keep to the shadows and side streets. His head was still fuzzy after everything that had happened that night.

The gate swung open, and the human guard smiled at him. Marcus walked past and ignored him. The vampires traded places with humans during the day, and it was the middle of a shift change. He wasn’t so sure the human guards, blood slaves or not, were a wise choice. Marcus wanted the werewolves to stand guard while the vampires slumbered, but Isabella didn’t want the dirty animals anywhere near her blood-clan.

Marcus entered the grand foyer. The scent of vanilla potpourri cloistered around the room. Just below it, he smelled death and despair in the form of old blood and decay.

Evan dropped what he was doing to hurry alongside him. He was all atwitter now that Marcus had returned. He tripped over the cranberry carpet and bumped into Marcus's shoulder several times. “Where have you been? Mistress is livid that you went missing.”

Evan’s voice rose to a shrill whisper. “Now you’re back and half naked. Those aren’t even your jeans!”

Marcus aimed a derisive grin at Evan's attire. He wore black dress pants, a black vest, and a ruffled, hot pink tuxedo shirt. “Are you making fun of me, Princess? You look like you stole that outfit from a colorblind drag queen.”

Evan laughed and fluffed the pale blonde hair atop his head. He struck his best pinup pose. “Do you like it?”

Marcus pinched the apple of Evan’s cheek. “You look tasty as always.”

Evan’s expression sobered, and he laid a hand against his chest. “I was worried about you, Marcus Dane. It’s nearly sunup!”

“I had a little run-in with Trent and his thugs.”

“You haven’t eaten, have you? There's a wild look in your eyes.”

“I had a snack, but just enough to keep me sane.”

This explanation proved enough to stop Evan’s chatter. “Jai Li and Corey made it back. They told her that you stayed behind to ensure they reached safety. I’m sure once she hears you’re alright, she’ll be pleased.”

Marcus snorted in displeasure. He didn’t give a rip if Isabella was pleased or otherwise.

Evan pulled at his shirt sleeves. Lord help him, he looked just like Isabella. It made sense, of course. They were related somewhere down the line. They’d searched through piles of birth and death records to deem him her great grandson – times four or so. Sometimes, even that wasn’t enough to save him from her wrath.

Uncomfortable beneath Marcus's stare, Evan took a step back. “Jai Li and Corey were in her room for a while. I listened at the door, but only heard bits and pieces. Corey said you chased the witch and got trapped.”

“She wasn’t there, but some of her lackeys were." Marcus rolled his shoulders in an effort to relieve the tension gathered there. "Trent and Pete were there too.”

Evan shook his head. “Does Isabella know the witch personally?”

“Yeah, they’ve met.” Marcus kept the answer simple. In truth, it was anything but simple. He could tell Evan wanted to discuss it further, but there were some things he didn’t need to know. “Isabella has ignored the disobedience of her favorite pet and put us all in danger. Can you believe she’s forbidden me to harm him? She wants Trent brought back without a scratch.”

“Trent wouldn’t be the only one who has misbehaved.” Evan waggled a manicured finger. He followed Marcus upstairs into their shared bedroom. “We’re supposed to stay under the radar, keep to the shadows. Did you forget?”

“It’s not like I asked to get bludgeoned to death.” He slipped out of the foul stonewashed jeans and tossed them at Evan, who tried to shield himself. They smacked him in the chest then fell to the floor.

Marcus pulled clean pants from the closet. “Pete must have told Trent that we followed him. He and his crew were at the warehouse. Afterward, I got sent to the wrong place, and I’m certain it was a set up so he could finish what he started.”

“Sent where?" Evan's concern burned brightly on his face. "Who was there waiting?”

“I’m not sure. Some family owned place that I need to check out. They could be running a disposal for the witch.” Plus, it would give him an excuse to see the redhead again.

When Marcus awoke, he’d had the oddest notion that she'd looked into his mind, maybe even his soul. He couldn't explain it, but somehow she'd gotten beneath his skin. He itched to find out more.

There was something about her, something in the way she’d looked at him with those pretty green eyes. He had to see her again, even if it was from afar. God help her if she had any involvement in this.

Evan paled. “You think Starr is paying someone to get rid of your kind?”

Marcus shrugged, irritated that he came up short on answers. “That would explain some of the disappearances and the decrease in the newly turned, wouldn’t it? Even the shifters think something’s fishy. They’re a stupid bunch of animals, so if they can see it, why can’t Isabella?”

“What can we do?”

Marcus threw a hanger aside. “This is going to blow up in our faces. I think the witch will make her move soon, and Trent has aligned himself with her. I can’t even begin to imagine who else she has on her side.”

“You think Trent works for her now? Surely there’s another explanation.” Evan’s face pinched. “Really Marcus, he’s been with Isabella longer than anyone.”

“Perhaps he’s grown tired of her too.” Marcus struggled to contain the anger that boiled within his chest. Evan sounded a lot like Isabella. How could they both be so damned naive?

“She won’t like this.”

“Would you like me to wait until we have more allies? It might be too late by then.”

The shifter community doesn’t want to get in the middle of it. Who’s left?” 

Marcus paced the room in agitation. “We're running out of enforcers. Either the witch brings them to her side or they end up dead. Not only do I have to worry about someone disposing of our kind, but the shifters may very well be under Starr's thumb too. Should I ignore the situation until something happens to Isabella? It may already be too late.”

Evan’s hand flew to his collar and fingered the bright lace. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll find out what Trent’s doing. Isabella thinks it's just a taste of independence he's after. I’m afraid she’s only half right.”

Evan bent to pull a pair of black biker boots from beneath the bed. “I can’t believe Pete was with him. How do we know who we can trust?”

“I trust Jai Li and Corey. They’ll watch over Isabella should anything happen to me.” 

Evan’s expression twisted into a frown. “Corey won’t like that. He wants to be in the middle of the action, with you. The kid looks up to you.”

Marcus offered a tight smile then turned to rummage the closet for an acceptable shirt. “Trent and his buddies aren't going to get away with what they've done.”

Evan brushed a hand down the curve of Marcus’s bare back. His fingers touched the tattoo that covered the majority of it. “I’m just glad they didn’t beat you with silver. It would’ve been a shame to ruin such beauty.”

Had it been anyone else’s hand, Marcus would have torn it off. But Evan was different. Marcus would never willingly hurt him. He hadn’t cared for a human in ages. It might be considered peculiar, he supposed. The one he cared about most was a close image of the person he loathed.

“Marcus?" Evan's voice wavered slightly. "Could you talk to Isabella? She brought it up again.”

Isabella wanted Evan to carry the bloodline. She wouldn't do the deed herself. She would have someone else perform the task. That way, if things went wrong, she'd have someone else to blame. “I don’t want to be turned. I like being alive. I love the sunshine.”

Marcus made a sound of displeasure. He could not remember how glorious it was to feel the kiss of sunlight on his bare skin. It was a luxury he could not afford.

Evan touched the hollow of his throat, and his smile was full of flirtation. “Of course, I might change my mind for you.”

“It’s not as glamorous as it seems, Evan.” He revealed his fangs and moved toward him. Evan gasped and took a step backward.

Marcus brushed past and headed for Isabella's private wing of the mansion. Isabella’s bedroom was posh and feminine, reflecting her tastes perfectly in dark reds and lush fabrics.

As Marcus entered the room, Isabella motioned for him to come closer to the bed. “Come, Marcus. Join me.”

Marcus chose a chair in the sitting area instead.

Not once during his edited explanation of the night's events did the fair-haired beauty interrupt. Isabella stood and rearranged the flounce of her blue dress. She moved to the other side of his chair. Her dainty hands came to rest on his shoulders. She kneaded the muscles. When he didn’t react, she dropped the routine and burrowed deadly red nails into his flesh.

“Tell me why I should believe Trent is behind this.” The fingers of her other hand wound in his thick hair. She jerked his head to the side, and her breath warmed his throat.

“His scent was heavy on the men who burned down our home. It was only two days ago, have you already forgotten?”

“It proves nothing. You were the only one who noticed this. It could be a lie." Her lips brushed the skin. "The two of you have never gotten along.”

“That’s an understatement.” Marcus gritted his teeth, reluctant to let his anger surface. “He was amongst those who ambushed us tonight. I must have mistaken him and Pete as the men at the mortuary too. Really, Isabella, how ignorant can you be?”

“You have brought me no proof.” Her eyes took on a wild appearance. “If you are wrong, he will never come back. What will I do without him?”

“Trent always goes behind your back, especially when it benefits him.” He breathed a little easier as her fingers loosened in his hair. “You’ve blinded yourself to the truth. It’s become second nature. Do you want me to ignore it too?”

Isabella's lips brushed against his. Crimson lipstick smeared across his mouth. Her voice fell lower, to a more dangerous level. “What is that supposed to mean? I have the best interests for my blood-clan, for
my
city. Are you going to tell me how to run my enterprise? Do you think you could do better?”

Some sick part of him enjoyed the games she played. “You and I both know the answer to that.”

Isabella swung a slender leg over the chair to straddle him. She had fed recently, the blood still fresh on her breath. Marcus's hunger stirred. Her lips brushed against his and fingers tickled across his chest. With her pressed so intimately against him, he could feel the heat from other, more clandestine areas. Once upon a time, the reek of her lust would have left him rigid and aching. He felt nothing but malevolence toward her now. Marcus stared at her in silence. He learned long ago that affection or any pale resemblance of it came with a tremendous price.

Isabella was lovely, no one would deny that. At one time, he believed she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Now he viewed her with different eyes, no longer disillusioned by her shrewd lies or sensual ways. As years wore on, her mind succumbed to beliefs of grandeur, and he could no longer disregard it.

Her pink tongue snaked out and traced the curve of his bottom lip. Teeth nipped at his mouth and begged for his attention. It was all he could do to keep from throwing her off him. He would not act upon those desires, not this time. She had no idea how much restraint he exercised. Or perhaps she did. It would explain why she did her damnedest to knock him off balance. She did this to him, he suspected because he no longer desired to be her bedmate. The truth was, he hadn’t for a long time, but all men had needs, and Isabella knew that better than most.

She gripped handfuls of his hair, and her lip pulled up in a sneer.

“Trent is under the witch’s control. He’s the one who told her where to find our place of rest. Trent helped her burn us out. In case you forgot, I lost five of my enforcers in the fire. We almost lost you.” Marcus’s voice was stiff with fury.

“No. He would never lower himself to work with a meager human, witch or otherwise.” Isabella grew bored with trying to seduce him. She stood then brushed a hand down her skirt. With a dismissive wave, she walked to the door. “I do not believe it.”

“You can’t be serious, not when your life is at risk.” He stood now, anger forced him forward. He wiped away the lipstick and saliva she'd left on his lips. “There are people out there who aim to kill you!”