To Walk the Night (15 page)
16
I parked my Honda behind the backstop of an old ballpark that hadn’t been used in what looked to be ten years. Tall grass swayed with the night breeze, and the stench of a rotting animal nearby crinkled my nose. The place was isolated and dark, the perfect place to leave my motorcycle while I scouted House Tremaine.
I was anxious to get moving, but something kept nagging at the back of my mind. It had bothered me all the way to the ballpark, kept prickling just beyond my consciousness. I sat there, trying to figure out what it was.
A car drifted by, its headlights illuminating much of the baseball diamond, though I was well hidden behind the backstop. It would take someone actually shining a light directly on me for anyone to see me there. The night was still young. I had time to think.
It wasn’t such a surprise I was attacked on the road. It happened quite often on back roads. Joyriding wasn’t something anyone ever did during the night anymore. It was just as bad as walking down a dark alley in the seediest part of town at midnight. You were just asking for someone to come try to tear your throat out.
No, it wasn’t the fact I was attacked. It was the scar.
While I wasn’t able to make out exactly what had caused the scars on both the passenger of the truck and the werewolf, I was sure I knew what they meant. Who else slapped marks on their foreheads to let others know whom they belonged to?
“Jonathan.” I whispered his name as a curse. The Luna Cult had tattoos right where those scars were. If the wolf and his friends were members of the Cult sent out to kill me, then they might have tried to remove the tattoo in order to hide their identities in case they failed.
But those scars had been old. It was doubtful that they had removed them for this purpose only. So then why had they done it?
I tried to make a connection. I knew my attackers had something to do with the Luna Cult. It would be too big of a coincidence otherwise.
I just couldn’t figure out why they would remove their tattoos like that. The tattoo was a mark of pride for the Cultists. For some, it was who they were. I seriously doubted a Cultist would remove his tattoo for any reason.
But then why?
Maybe when I was done with House Tremaine, I would have to pay Jonathan a little visit.
I turned away from my bike and started toward the road. My footfalls sounded far too loud in the eerie quiet of the abandoned ballpark. Not even a dog barked in the distance.
Tremaine’s mansion was a few blocks away, nestled in a quiet section of the rich district. I made my way there, sticking to the darkness provided by trees and gently rolling hills. I moved quick and silent, head on a swivel. Anyone could be out there watching me.
Many of the residential districts of Columbus had undergone severe changes in scenery after the Uprising. Families were booted from their homes so the vampires could take over, live at their leisure. The Major Houses built mansions on sprawling properties that might have at one time been entire neighborhoods. Most of the lesser Houses simply moved into large estates already in place.
House Tremaine was one of the latter. I passed it often enough when working my way deeper into the vampire residential districts. A hill dotted by pines and oaks served as its backdrop. A large pond decorated the front yard and oftentimes, revelers could be seen from the road, slipping in and out of the water before heading inside to feast on blood.
Tonight, however, the pond was as empty of revelers as the sky was of clouds. I could just see the front door where a man was talking with a woman in the spill of light cast by the front window. I couldn’t tell if they were vampires, werewolves, or Pureblood servants from where I was, but I was pretty sure they were a part of the House, not some visitors.
The girl turned her face away and the man reached up and cupped her face in his hands. He leaned forward, kissed her, and then buried his teeth in her neck. She writhed against him but didn’t fight back. After a few minutes, she slumped in his arms and he carried her back inside.
I felt sick to my stomach. I knew the girl wanted to be fed upon, knew she probably enjoyed it in some sick way. Vampire bites weren’t like in all the old stories. There were no pheromones in the saliva or anesthetics or anything like that. The bites hurt. Badly. Only the sick and perverted could enjoy that kind of pain.
I used the trees to slip unnoticed onto the hill at the back of the property. I stayed well back from the House, not wanting to be spotted by the werewolf sniffers I knew would be lurking. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, but that didn’t mean anything. Anyone could be lurking somewhere in the dark. A vampire could be pretty damn still when they wanted to be.
I kept low to the ground, moving light and quick. Barely a leaf rustled as I passed on vampire-light feet. I did my best to keep a heavy number of trees between me and Tremaine’s mansion, but there were still bare patches where walking exposed under the moonlight was inevitable.
Lights were on in nearly every room of the place. From where I crouched behind an old oak, I could just make out the black shape of the driveway that snaked down toward the road.
The mansion sat well back from the road, and a good portion of it was hidden behind large pines. From the road, only the pond and front entrance could be seen clearly. The pond itself was illuminated by soft lights. At the end of the drive, there was no gate, which had always surprised me. Even the Fledgling House I had taken down just a few days ago had had one. Tremaine was either extremely confident or extremely stupid.
Most vampires were like that, really. They thought they were invincible, and oftentimes wouldn’t bother using security when something wasn’t going on. Only when tensions were high did they use more than a few guards—mostly wolves stuck patrolling the grounds or watching front gates or doors. It made slipping in pretty easy sometimes.
It seemed as though Tremaine wasn’t planning on any trouble. There was no one on the roof, and as far as I could tell, no one peeked out the windows to scan the grounds. Without a gate, there was no guardhouse at the base of the driveway, which left him pretty open for attack if someone were interested in taking him down.
Still, I wouldn’t want to take a chance that I overlooked something and go charging in without planning ahead first. I scanned the mansion, searching for some way in that didn’t look as though it was heavily used.
There was a window with a vent beside it on the side of the mansion in which I was looking. The window was open a crack and there were no lights on inside the room.
I watched the room for a good long while. It looked like it was the laundry room, if the vent was what I thought it was. I was pretty sure that traffic through the room would be light. If nothing else presented itself before long, the laundry room would probably be the best access point. Not too many vampires thought about guarding their soiled sheets.
I remained crouched behind the tree for a good hour more, simply watching. There was a back door, but I doubted going in through any door would be a good idea. Doors tended to be watched. I couldn’t risk being seen the night of the assault until things were well under way. Getting caught because I used the wrong entrance would more than likely mean the fighting would start long before we were ready.
At one point, a petite woman who had to have been only half my size came through the back door and walked the perimeter of the yard. She didn’t look like she was doing much more than going for an evening stroll, but I knew better. Her hand lingered at her side, fingers ready to draw a weapon that was hidden by a long coat.
It was pretty brilliant, really. Send out the smallest and weakest looking member of the House in the hopes that anyone lurking around the property might take that as a chance to attack. She probably had enough firepower under that coat to stop an army of wolves.
Of course, silver being illegal, it would only stop attacking vamps or wolves for a few moments before they would be on her. My guess was she was either a really powerful wolf or vamp, or she was completely expendable. No House would risk the wrath of the other vampire Houses by using silver.
A nearby rustle brought me to my feet. There was a deep-throated cough, followed by someone spitting somewhere to my right. I tried to see past low-hanging branches but couldn’t make out much of anything from where I stood. The oak was a good place to see the mansion. It wasn’t so good of a place to spot a watchman in the trees.
I slipped back up the hill, out of sight of the mansion, and waited. I could have probably fallen back all the way to my motorcycle and avoided a confrontation entirely. I might have if it wasn’t for the fact I was there to scout the place. Finding out what kind of security they kept was part of scouting.
A few moments later, a stocky man with a pencil-thin mustache strode into view. His hair was parted to either side and greased down like he was some early era gangster. He even wore a tailored suit straight out of the early 1900s. He carried no weapon that I could see, but there was something about him that spoke of a man ready and willing to do some serious violence at the drop of a hat.
I held my breath as he passed. He paused almost directly in front of me, his neck craned to the side as he sniffed the air like a dog. His head swiveled from side to side, his beady eyes scanning the trees all around him.
I slowly slid my hand down to the hilt of one of my knives. If he made so much as a single step more in my direction, I would bury it to the hilt in his throat. I didn’t want to do it, knowing that if I did, it would only make things harder in a few days. A dead body tended to draw attention and security would be through the roof.
The man licked his lips and stuck out his tongue like he was tasting the air. He smiled and turned to look down at the oak I had so recently vacated. He sauntered toward it, glancing from side to side, almost casually. He crouched down and touched the ground where I had stood, then looked either way as if trying to determine which way I had gone.
I moved my other hand to my gun. I was dealing with a werewolf for sure. No one else could sniff someone out like that. And even then, only the older, more powerful wolves could do it so easily. Vampires were hard to scent out, considering they didn’t sweat like a normal person.
It was then I remembered my earlier encounter. I would have wolf scent on me, as well as the lingering scent of blood from feeding. It was somewhat comforting to know that he probably wouldn’t have smelled me otherwise, though it did little to alleviate my current situation. If he could smell the old blood, then it was only a matter of time before he sniffed me out.
I waited for him to make his move. If I was forced to kill him, I would have to drop him fast. If he warned anyone I was there, things could get ugly in a hurry. If I could kill him in one stroke, I might be able to drag him away and hide the body so that it wouldn’t compromise the Luna Cult plan, though I was sure it would raise suspicions if one of Tremaine’s wolves came up missing. There was really no way to do this and not cause problems later.
The wolf stood and scanned the trees once more. He withdrew a small case from his coat pocket. It looked to be made of silver, though I knew there was no way it could be. He removed a thin cigarette wrapped in brown paper and produced a match from his coat. The sweet scent of cloves filled the air as he lit and puffed on the cigarette.
He stood there a moment longer, smoking and scanning the area before sauntering back toward the mansion, humming to himself.
I watched him walk all the way back in disbelief. He had scented me out, I was sure of it, and yet he lit the cigarette, obscuring my scent, and walked away. Either he was really bad at what he did, or he was confident I wasn’t a threat. Maybe it was the Pureblood scent that did it.
Once he was out of sight, I headed back toward my Honda. I wasn’t sure if the wolf would tell Count Tremaine of my presence or not, but I didn’t want to risk it either way. I moved quickly, not bothering to keep as quiet as I should have, knowing I might only have minutes before more wolves would be on me.
Just as I broke cover from the trees, headlights appeared down the road, coming from the direction of House Tremaine. I dropped down into a ditch, pressing myself as close to the ground as I could. The vehicle rumbled past without slowing, and I was on my feet and moving again before the taillights were out of sight.
A few minutes later, I was on my motorcycle. My scouting was done, though I wasn’t sure how safe my entry point would really be.
I had snuck into vampire Houses under worse circumstances, so it really wouldn’t be any different than before. This actually seemed pretty easy compared with some of my other grand entrances. As long as no one was doing the laundry when I slipped in, I figured there was a chance I might get in unobserved.
Of course, there was one little thing I needed to take care of before settling on any course of action. If I wasn’t satisfied with the result, then someone other than Count Tremaine would be feeling the biting edge of my sword.
And this time, I would make sure he didn’t survive it.
17
No one tried to stop me as I marched down the sidewalk toward the renovated library that was the Luna Cult Den. The more I thought about my night, the angrier I became. I knew Jonathan had to know who my attackers were. The scar in the middle of my attacker’s forehead was too much of a coincidence for there not to be some sort of connection.
I could feel eyes on me as I made my way to the Den. I knew more than one Cultist was probably watching me from the windows or other secure locations around the green. I didn’t know how much Jonathan was able to hide within his glamour.
And, of course, Jonathan himself was probably watching me on his little monitor.
I pushed open the doors and strode inside, breaking through the darkness, into the light. Even though I knew the sudden light was coming, it still caused my step to falter, and I had to close my eyes tight against the glare. I doubted I would ever get used to the sudden change from dark to light. Not that I planned on coming to the Den often enough to get used to it.
There weren’t nearly as many Cultists lurking around as there were the last time I was there. There were still enough to ensure my good behavior, or at least, whatever good behavior I was willing to impart. If I felt like shooting someone, I would. There was nothing they could do to stop me.
I forced a smile and asked the first person I saw to fetch Jonathan for me. The Cultist could have been no more than seventeen. He held a book in his hands, a finger marking his page. His scalp looked freshly shaved, and whoever had done it hadn’t been too careful about it. Tiny nicks marred his head, the scabs still fresh and gooey.
The Cultist stared at me and didn’t move. I don’t think he knew what to think about my abrupt appearance. I didn’t recognize him from the last time I was there.
I looked around the room, my forced smile fading. Faces peered out at me from the railing above, curiosity prevalent amongst them. No one looked like they had any intention of doing what I wanted. Why would they? As far as they knew, I was just some mercenary Jonathan had hired to help them out.
Pablo stepped into view a moment later. He glowered at me from the second floor, his anger displacing the curious faces. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. He started down the stairs, slowly, meaningfully. “You weren’t invited this time. You have no business here.”
I ground my teeth to keep from saying something rash. I was in their house, their home, and I would have to abide by their rules. For now. I wasn’t sure Jonathan or the Cult had anything to do with the attack. Until then, I needed to keep myself in check.
“I need to speak to Jonathan,” I said. “Where is he?”
“Busy.”
“Tell him I’m here. He will want to see me.” I was pretty sure he already knew I was there. Even if he hadn’t been watching his monitors, someone would have told him. People weren’t just allowed to waltz on in uninvited like I had.
“He might, he might not,” Pablo said, reaching the bottom of the stairs. He stopped with his arms crossed, head lowered so he was just about looking through his forehead to see me. I think he meant it to look menacing. “You aren’t wanted here.”
The young Cultist on the stairs closed his book and retreated somewhere above, out of sight. He could probably feel the tension in the room as much as hear it.
“Don’t make me go in search of him,” I said. “I’ve had a real pissy night, and I don’t feel like dealing with your bullshit.”
Pablo’s expression tightened and he took a threatening step forward. I drew my gun and aimed it at him, using his tattoo as a target. Screw diplomacy. This was the way I preferred to do business anyway.
“I wouldn’t come any closer if I were you,” I said. The smile that reached my lips wasn’t forced this time. It wasn’t pleasant either.
“Enough.” Jonathan’s voice rang out from upstairs. He stepped into view a moment later, the young Cultist close behind. Jonathan’s hood was up, concealing the ruin of his face. “How many times is this going to happen? I don’t want someone getting killed over nothing.”
Pablo glanced up the stairs and bowed his head, cowed. “She wasn’t invited,” he said. “She walked right in here as if she belonged with the rest of us. She disrespects us.”
Jonathan sighed and came down the stairs. “Until further notice, she is to be treated as one of us. She can come and go as she pleases. As long as she abides by our rules and avoids violence, no one is to hurt her.” His head turned my way. “Would you mind putting the gun away?”
I had half a mind just to shoot Pablo and get it over with. I didn’t like being here as it was, and the rude bastard only made it worse. It was clear he didn’t like the idea of treating me as a member of the Cult. Neither did I. I wasn’t a werewolf or a werewolf worshipper. I killed them and Jonathan knew it, even if the others didn’t.
I put away my gun and lowered my hands to my hips. If Pablo made a move for me, I could have a knife out and in his throat before he closed the distance. I still wasn’t sure he hadn’t been the one to order the attack on me, so I was itching for a reason.
“Would you follow me to the office?” Jonathan said. He turned without another word.
I followed him across the floor and into the office we had held our earlier meeting. I offered Pablo a quick, satisfied sneer before I went. I couldn’t help myself. I could tell my being there was eating at him.
As soon as the door closed behind us, I had the gun back out and had it pointed straight at Jonathan’s mangled face. He had removed the hood the moment he entered, so I could see his surprised expression. No one else was in the room.
“Who was it?” I demanded, taking a step away from the closed door. I moved so I could keep an eye on it, as well as on Jonathan. I didn’t know what kind of tricks he might have up his sleeve. I mean, he
was
a sorcerer. Glamours might not be the only thing he could do.
was
a sorcerer. Glamours might not be the only thing he could do.
“Who was what?” Jonathan raised his hands, palms outward. His surprise faded and was replaced by a curious look. He didn’t seem too concerned about the gun I was pointing at him, which served only to piss me off more. He eased himself down on the edge of his desk.
“The wolves that jumped me. No one but you and your goons knew I was going to House Tremaine tonight, and I find it hard to believe it was just some random attack. Did you send them? Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”
Jonathan opened his mouth and then closed it without speaking. He went pale and his hands dropped to his sides. He looked utterly stunned.
“What?” I said, my will wavering. Something was clearly amiss.
Jonathan took a deep breath and looked up at me, a pleading look in his eye. “Please,” he said. “Put the gun away and I will explain everything.”
“Then you know who is responsible for the attack?” My grip tightened on the gun.
“I think so.”
I bit my lip to keep from cursing. I had been such a fool to think I could trust the Luna Cult, even a little bit. What did I really expect from a bunch of werewolves and their worshippers?
“It isn’t what you think,” Jonathan said. “Let me explain, and if you think I intentionally deceived you, I won’t stop you if you decide to shoot me.”
My aim wavered and then finally dropped, though I didn’t put the gun away. “Make it quick.”
“First, can you tell me what he looked like?”
“The wolf?”
Jonathan nodded.
“He was hairy. They all look alike.”
“Did you see him before he changed?”
“No.” I paused. Why was I being difficult? I wanted answers. “The passenger of the truck wasn’t shifted, if he was a wolf at all. He had a pretty nasty scar on his forehead. They both did. It was what made me think of you and the Cult.” I left out the bit about my silver weapons not working on the wolf. I wasn’t so sure I could trust Jonathan with that information.
“Because of our tattoo.”
“Yeah, a little too coincidental, don’t you think?”
“You would be right,” Jonathan said with a sigh. “There was something I should have told you when you were here last. I didn’t think it would come up. I see I was wrong.”
“And that something is?”
Jonathan slowly stood and motioned toward the chair behind his desk. “May I sit?”
I waved the gun toward the couch. “Sit there,” I said. I didn’t want him behind the desk where there might be some sort of alarm or intercom.
Jonathan took a seat on the couch without complaint. He sat back and folded his hands in his lap. “There are those who do not agree with how the Cult is run. I believe those who attacked you belong to this group.”
“Rebel wolves.”
“Only one, originally,” Jonathan admitted. “Adrian Davis. He was Simon’s second at the time of his defection. He left before Simon was captured, taking quite a few Luna Cult Purebloods with him, most of them the more violent of our members.” He scratched the flat part of his head. The sound of his nails on the scarred flesh made my skin crawl. “He believes we should turn all the Cultists, making them werewolves. In doing so, we would have much more power, would be able to take down the vampire Houses on our own if that was our desire.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because that is not our way. While many in the Cult wish to be turned, not all of them do. It is one thing to want to be a werewolf and an entirely different thing to actually be one. The reality of the change doesn’t really hit many until it is too late to go back. It would be like wanting to be immortal and then finding yourself bored with life. There is no going back.”
I frowned. It made sense in a way.
“When Adrian realized we weren’t going to change our minds, he left. The Cultists who went with him had been the most adamant about being turned. They tore away their tattoos with their newly gifted claws the moment they were turned. They turned their backs on everything the Cult stood for.”
“Which is?”
Jonathan smiled and shook his head. “It is hard to explain. We only want freedom for the werewolves under control of vampire Houses and to provide a place for them to belong. We aren’t the heathens many make us out to be.”
I still wasn’t so sure about that, but I held my tongue. “And if this Adrian defected, then how did he know where to find me? It doesn’t make sense he would know if he is no longer a part of your inner circle.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Jonathan looked me in the eye. “I, like you, doubt it was a random attack. This was done with the express intent of taking you out of the equation. Someone must have informed him.”
I mulled over that for a moment. There were quite a few people I thought capable of doing such a thing, Jonathan included. I didn’t know much about the Cult and its inner workings, but I had a feeling everything was on a need-to-know basis. No one but Jonathan, Nathan, and Gregory knew who I was. It had to have been one of them.
“I didn’t think Adrian would become an issue,” Jonathan went on. “He turned those Cultists who followed him, and they have pretty much kept to themselves since then. I haven’t heard anything about them for at least three months now. I thought they might have left town, found a new place to set up their own version of the Cult.”
“It seems you were wrong.”
“Indeed.”
A tense silence fell between us. I could almost taste it in the air. I really wanted to believe Jonathan, to accept what he told me and walk away, but it was hard. I wanted the chance to take down House Tremaine, wanted it with all my heart, yet I just couldn’t force myself to trust him like I needed to. He was a werewolf. Even if we were working together, we were still enemies.
And why hadn’t he told me about Adrian in the first place? I asked him as much.
Jonathan smiled bitterly and shook his head. “I had hoped to have heard the last of him, and that we would never have to have this conversation. His issues are with the Cult, not vampire politics. My best guess is he decided to come out of hiding just to mess up my plans out of pure spite. I doubt we will hear from him again.”
I somehow doubted that.
Jonathan rose, keeping his hands in plain sight. “Please,” he said. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. Adrian is my problem, and I will see about taking care of it. I should have told you up front.”
“You’re damn right you should have,” I said, but my heart wasn’t in it. Damn. He had convinced me with pretty words that he wasn’t involved. I still couldn’t say the same for anyone else in the Cult, but I was pretty sure Jonathan had nothing to do with it. It looked like I wasn’t going to get to shoot anyone just yet.
“I hope this doesn’t affect your decision to help us?”
I thought about it. If someone was tipping this rogue werewolf off, then there was a chance they could tip Count Tremaine off as well. Was I ready to take that chance?
“No,” I said, holstering my gun. I couldn’t pass this opportunity up. “Not yet anyway.”
“Good.” Jonathan took a deep breath and let it out in a relieved sigh. “Did you get a chance to find out anything about House Tremaine tonight? Or did this little inconvenience derail your reconnaissance?”
Other books
Small Wars by Sadie Jones
Commodore by Phil Geusz
Mail Order Minx: Fountain of Love (Brides of Beckham) by Osbourne, Kirsten
Heartbreak Trail by Shirley Kennedy
Run Away Baby by Holly Tierney-Bedord
Shotgun Vows by Teresa Southwick
Rock You Like a Hurricane: Stormy Weather, Book 1 by Lena Matthews and Liz Andrews
No Regrets: Jani Kay (Firebird Trilogy Book 2) by Kay, Jani
Tundra by Tim Stevens
Half a Life by V. S. Naipaul
