When Darkness Hungers: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 5) (19 page)

“We’re looking for this guy,” Edgar said, as innocent as you please. “I think his name is Sergius.”

Derrick stood. This had just taken a turn toward interesting.

He crossed to the bar and put his hand on Bella’s waist, urging her off Frank’s lap. He pulled her close, squeezing her up against his side as he aimed a brutal
look at each of the two men. “Couldn’t help but overhear. You boys looking for someone?”

“This guy,” Edgar said. Derrick could smell the fear on him, but he was impressed that the human didn’t show it.

“I know him,” Derrick said, taking the sketch from Edgar’s hands. “Why are you looking for him?”

Edgar didn’t quite meet his eyes when answering. “Got a few things I want to ask him. Nothing earth-shattering.”

“That a fact?”

“That’s a fact,” Edgar said, and this time he did meet Derrick’s eyes.

“Hey, hey,” Frank said. “My buddy here, he’s okay.”

“That right?” Derrick asked, nodding slowly. “Well, since Frank comes here often, I’ll take his word for it. All right, then. Here’s the truth. If you’re looking for Sergius, then I think you boys are in over your head.”

“Might be,” Edgar said. “But I still need to find him.”

“Good luck. He’s gone off the grid. And I’m still wondering what you want with him.”

“I told you. I need to talk to him.”

“Might live longer if you changed your mind.” He folded up the sketch and slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans. He had an old daguerreotype that he’d shown his men so that they would recognize Serge. In this sketch, however, his hair was shorter, and it was clear his old friend had changed with the times.

He aimed a hard look at Edgar. “Sergius is a son-of-a-bitch. He’d just as soon kill a human as look at one. As deadly as they come. Hell, Sergius scares me.” He smiled, thin and predatory.

Edgar met Frank’s eyes, and Frank nodded. “Well, thank you much. We appreciate the help.”

“I’m serious,” Derrick said. “You value your life, you don’t want to get mixed up with him. Hell, just asking about him—well, let’s hope he never hears about it.”

They both nodded, then Edgar slid off his stool. “Let’s get out of here.”

Frank looked like he wanted to argue, but he fell in step beside his friend. The two left the Z Bar without looking back.

Derrick watched them go, then headed back to his booth and signaled for Bella to follow.

“You should have encouraged them to ask around,” Bella said. “Maybe they’d draw Serge out.”

“Not a bad plan,” he conceded. “But I’m more interested in the fact that they’ve just demonstrated my old friend is still in the area.”

“And they’ve seen him,” Bella said. “Or someone they know has. If you still want to find Sergius yourself, we should find out who. And where.”

“So we should.”

“Will you see to it personally?”

“Actually, I thought that you could handle it.”

“Me?”

He saw the delight in her eyes and chuckled. “Find out what you can. And once you’ve learned everything you can, drain them dry.”

“I can play with them first, though, right?”

He brushed a kiss across her mouth and pulled her into his lap. “My dear, I’d be ashamed of you if you didn’t.”

“No, no! Please! I’ll be good. I swear I’ll be good!”

CeeCee’s screams echoed in Serge’s mind. She’d lost it when he’d told her he had to go—that he couldn’t be the one to help her through the transition. That he had to leave her with Sara, who stood next to the girl, obviously irritated and confused that Serge was walking away when the girl needed him.

God help him, he hadn’t wanted to. But what choice did he have? Tell them the truth? Not damn likely.

“It’s not you,” he’d told CeeCee, his voice hoarse, fading, because the beast had no voice. “I can’t—I have to—” He hadn’t been able to finish the sentence. He’d burst out of the house even as the sun slipped below the horizon. Already, his bones were starting to shift, the hunger starting to take over. Soon Serge would be subjugated to the beast, and he couldn’t go through that again. Feed now, and at least he could keep himself at the surface. Ignore the hunger, and he’d lose his reason, his awareness, possibly even his sanity.

He couldn’t explain any of that, though. And so he’d left. Confusing Sara, pissing off the kid, and making himself feel even lower than he already did.

Worst of all, he may have waited too long. It was rougher this time. Faster. His thoughts were rambling, shifting, losing coherency. It didn’t make sense. He’d fed not that long ago—he’d drained Mitre, feasting on the
bastard’s life force. Never before had the beast risen so quickly, and he realized with a sudden shock what his problem was.
I saved the females
. He’d taken a vampire’s form, and then he’d used vampiric powers to save Alexis. To save CeeCee. He’d given the energy back to them, and left himself ripe for the return of the beast.
Hurry. I have to hurry
.

He stopped short and realized he’d been running, tearing fast through the darkened Malibu streets. Nothing here. Nothing at all. But there was a place in San Pedro. The Z Bar. A dark, seedy place. He’d found his last meal there—the one before Mitre—and there’d been other rogues in the place. He couldn’t be certain, but it was his best lead yet. And even if no one was there now, maybe he could pick up the scent. Track one.

Maybe there would be time.

Please, please, let there be time.

He couldn’t drive—that would take too long. And if he transformed to mist, he’d be using up even more vampiric energy. Possibly all of it. He might come out of the mist as the beast, his own mind lost inside, rampaging blindly through the city, taking and killing until the beast was submerged once more.

Serge would get his mind back then, but the price would be a path of death and destruction.

Either option was a risk, though, and the faster he got to San Pedro, the sooner he could feed. With fear weighing him down, he called upon the change and transformed into sentient mist. As quickly as possible, he shot through the sky, heading south to the small Los Angeles neighborhood. Even as mist, he could feel the beast rising, clawing at him, desperate to break free.

He had to hold on. Had to get there. Had to cling fast and hard to control.

The alley was dark when he shifted back into himself, but he could hear the crowd within the small bar that was so popular with the vampire crowd. He’d come to this place on several occasions, but never once had he entered. He’d become a true shadower, and he wasn’t willing to be seen. Better to wait for his quarry to emerge.

Tonight was no different, and now he breathed deep, pleased to detect the scent of three vampires he knew to be rogue. But there was another scent, too.
Humans
. He frowned at that oddity, but the mystery was quickly displaced as he caught a hint of yet another scent—this one familiar but distant. Like something from a dream. From his past, perhaps …?

He shifted, but memory eluded him and he pushed the scent from his mind. There was no time, not with the beast rising and his quarry out there. All that mattered was feeding.

He moved east down the sidewalk, frustrated when the scent faded. He tried the other direction, and was pleased to pick up the trail of a single rogue heading off toward the west. Serge smiled. He didn’t have to figure out a way to lure one out of the bar or, worse, how to stage an attack inside the place.

All he had to do was track this one—and track him fast.

Serge was approaching when the rogue turned. He froze, eyes going wide. “Holy fuck, you’re Sergius. Derrick heard you were in town.”

Derrick
. That was the scent he’d been unable to place. Derrick was alive. Derrick was
here
. And Derrick was looking for him.

Deep inside Serge, the daemon twisted, wanting to hunt and to play and to slide back into the old ways. To get lost in the blood. In the wild, freeing pleasure of pure, raw pain.

No, no, no
.

He took a step forward, forcing his body to work properly, keeping the daemon and the beast down by will alone. He had to, because he had to know. Had to understand what was going on here.

Derrick is here. These rogues. These deaths. By the gods, this blood is on his hands …

“Who the hell are you?” Serge growled.

The younger vampire stood straighter. “I’m Raoul. I’m one of his—oh, hell, he’s going to want to tell you. Let me take you to him.”

No
. He couldn’t. See Derrick and the daemon would surely burst free. He had to stay focused. Had to focus and feed and
think
.

“Raoul,” Serge repeated, his voice raw with effort. His hands itched as his skin shifted into something cold and reptilian. “Did you kill a woman last week? Did you make her husband watch and then kill him, too?”

Raoul’s proud grin was brighter than the streetlight. “Brilliant, huh? Oh, man, did I get off on that or what? But seriously, come on back to the bar with me, because Derrick’s gonna—”

The words stopped, cut off as firmly as a needle lifting from a record. The eyes went wide, too. And why not? Raoul had surely seen nothing like Serge before. The way his hands were elongating into claws. The way his skin had turned reptilian and his nose was flattening.

He cried out, but it was too late. Serge had reached
out and clamped his hand hard on the bastard’s shoulder, his mind focused on draining Raoul dry.

And then it was over. For a moment, Serge just stood there, feeling the beast retreat, his muscles relax, his skin returning to normal. He’d been halfway through the transformation, and there was a joy in coming back to himself that completely overshadowed what he’d done to achieve it.

He’d killed, yes. But he’d done it to survive.

Unlike Derrick, who killed for the pleasure of the blood. For the thrill of seeing it spill from a human. For the taste of pain, so seductive.

Stop it … goddammit, stop it
.

He knew he should dispose of the body—how much longer could he evade the PEC? But he had to get away. Had to move. Had to
go
. The beast was calm now, true, but his daemon had awakened and was sniffing greedily, longing for a past that Serge didn’t want to return to and a man that Serge didn’t want to be. Couldn’t be—not again. Not anymore.

And yet still the hunger plagued him.

Alexis
. He pulled her to the forefront of his mind, imagining she was in his arms and he was breathing in her scent. He wanted the feel of her skin against his. The taste of her lips, the softness of her hair. She was a storm of sensuality, and he wanted to get lost in it, certain that if he could lose himself with her, he could lose the daemon as well.

It made no sense, but just having her in his thoughts calmed him. Made it easier to fight. Easier to push the darkness down. It was strength, and right then, that’s what he needed.

But why? It had to be because of what she’d seen in him, the way she’d looked when he’d promised to save the girl. Like he was a goddamn hero. It wasn’t true, of course, but he clung to the image anyway, using it to draw strength as he headed back to the beach. Back to CeeCee. His ward. His responsibility. He’d talk to her now. Explain why he’d needed to go. But when he finally reached Luke and Sara’s house, his keen ears picked up CeeCee’s sweet trill of laughter and the warm tones of Sara’s voice.

He cringed and veered away, something low and dark pushing inside him, telling him he was a fool to think that CeeCee would even want to see him. He’d walked the line between reality and the slide into the abyss that was the daemon for so long; why the hell would she want to step away from the relative normalcy of a life with Sara and Luke for the likes of him? Why, for that matter, was he even trying?

From the moment the beast had settled inside him, he’d shunned society. But that wasn’t the first time he’d gone off the grid. For what felt like a dozen lifetimes, Serge had avoided the world, sleeping in abandoned basements and closed subway lines, taking care not to be seen, and only hunting when the clawing, writhing pain inside him refused to be ignored and he had no choice but to feed. He’d hoped it would get better. Had fought and battled and tried to quash that part of him down until it was nothing more than a hard knot of pain inside of him. But he’d never managed, and now he had both the daemon and the beast tugging at him.

He cast another glance toward Luke’s house and the young girl inside. No, he had no business going in there.
He’d given her a new life, yes, but he damn sure wasn’t the one who could show her how to navigate it. Not with the beast always so close to the surface. Not with the daemon writhing within him, still hungry. Still demanding.

Just give in. Feed. You’ve fought so hard to remain in a vampire’s form, why not just
be
a vampire?

He was sated with the life force he’d taken, but he still craved blood.
Blood
. The center. The focal point of all things both human and vampire.

You know you want it. Want to lose yourself in it. Drink its sweetness. Wallow in its power. Take, Sergius
.