When Darkness Hungers: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 5) (24 page)

“Are we doing the getting-to-know-you dance?”

“We are,” she said firmly.

“All right, then. I was turned a long time ago. Longer than you’d probably believe.”

“I’ve become remarkably open-minded lately.”

“I was turned just shy of two thousand years ago.”

“Oh.” Maybe she should reevaluate that whole open-minded thing. “Seriously?”

“Cross my nonbeating heart.”

“You were around for the fall of Rome. For the Renaissance. The French Revolution. Hell, you were around when silent movies were invented.”

“Actually, I spent some time with Thomas Edison and Nikola Tesla. I’ve a particular interest in science and inventing, and they were both fascinating to me. Edison was an ass, of course, but geniuses often are.”

She could only shake her head. And, oddly, she found herself slightly jealous. Not of the whole living-as-a-bloodsucking-monster thing, but about the immortality. About seeing all of that. “What’s in your head—it’s astounding.”

His smile seemed strangely ironic. “I’ve had my moments.”

“So what happened? You were walking through the woods one night in—where did you live, anyway?”

“Not too far outside of Londinium,” he said.

“Right. So, were you attacked?” She thought of Tori. Would Alexis be happier if instead of killing her sister, a vampire had changed her? She wanted to say no—that was perverse, unnatural. But there was that gut-level allure.

“I wasn’t attacked,” he said, his expression darkening. “I sought it out.”

She nodded slowly. “I can understand that. I was just thinking that there’s an appeal to being able to watch history pass by.”

“An appeal, perhaps. But it comes at a price. Everything that’s not within the natural order does.”

“But you sought it out anyway?”

His smile lacked humor. “I did.”

“Why?”

“Because I was young and vain.” He shrugged, the gesture nonchalant, but she could tell that he felt anything but casual about the story. “I thought I could handle it.”

“You couldn’t?”

“It was … difficult.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t hold back the question.

“What was the price?”

“Evil. Inside me.”

Suddenly her heartbeat seemed very loud. “Like the rogues?”

“Exactly like that.”

She swallowed. “But you controlled it, right?”

He looked at her, and for a moment, she wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to answer. She clutched her hand around her gun and forced herself to breathe and relax.

Finally, he offered her a small smile. “I saved you and CeeCee, didn’t I?”

The relief was like a ray of warm sun after a long swim in a cold pool. She didn’t like thinking of him as vile—as if he could do the things that she’d seen, as if he could rip out the throats of humans like these rogues did. “So you think they have a leader? The rogues, I mean. Do you know who?”

“I have an idea.”

She waited for him to say more, but only silence hung between them. “Is Homeland Security involved somehow?”

If she’d intended to surprise him, she’d succeeded in spades. He tilted his head back and laughed and laughed. “Do you want to tell me what’s so funny?”

“For centuries—hell, for millennia—we’ve tried to keep our existence secret. The way we operate. How we live. And we’ve blithely believed that we’ve succeeded. And then you come along and prove that no matter how careful we are, someone is going to find us out. There’s no hiding, there’s no hiding at all.”

Derrick watched Bella twirl into his apartment, her face glowing. “You fed well, my dear.”

“It was exquisite. The fear. The struggle.” She trembled, as if words couldn’t describe the extent of her rapture. “Foolish little worms to think that they could come into our world and make demands. Ask about one of our kind. There’s a price to pay for hubris, you know.”

“And you saw that they paid dearly.”

“Of course.” She slid against him and twined her arms around his neck. “And now I’m in the mood to celebrate.”

He kissed her—hard and lingering. “And what else do we have to celebrate? He told you who was looking for our Sergius?”

“He didn’t say a word, not even after I drained him almost to death. Not even when I threatened to pull out his heart and crush it in my hand. He protected her to the end.”

“Her?”

Bella’s smile widened. “He died with his secret, but he took me for a fool. I found notes. Messages on his answering machine. I took them, of course. When the police investigate this murder there won’t be anything in the house to suggest that we exist. We’ll stay in the shadows, my love, until you deem it time for us to emerge.”

“Soon,” he promised. “But you intrigue me. A woman, you say?”

“Her name is Alexis. Apparently she fancies herself a vampire hunter. So did Edgar, of course, but he’s dead now.”

“Interesting.”

“Is it?” Bella’s beautiful brow curved up. “Why?”

“Because Mitre told Jonathan he was injured by a woman.”

“The same one?”

“It’s certainly possible.” He frowned, considering his options, then looked once again at his beautiful Bella. “I charge you with investigating, my dear. Take her, torture her. Find out the truth. And if she is the one who’s been killing my men, then you leave her for me. I’ll kill her slowly, to make sure she truly understands the nature of pain.”

Only minutes after darkness fell, they emerged from the tunnels. Alexis had brought her motorcycle, and since Serge had no car, they rode together. He’d insisted on operating the bike, but she’d turned him down flat, and now he found himself seated behind her, his arms around her waist as they raced down Wilshire toward the Pacific Coast Highway.

She whipped in and out of traffic with such ease and skill that Serge couldn’t help but enjoy the ride. He’d owned a variety of vehicles at various points in his life, and he’d always gone for speed.

There was no denying that the sensation was glorious. The power of the bike beneath them. The rush of wind
through his hair. And, yes, the soft warmth of the woman in his arms. She’d filled his mind in unexpected ways. Primed his blood and gave him strength. He didn’t understand it, and under other circumstances he would have run from it. But at least for the moment, he was tied to her. On this bike. On this mission. She deserved to know the truth—he’d saved CeeCee, but not in the way she’d expected.

Once Alexis knew, it would be hate that he’d see in her eyes, and he would welcome it. The Alexis in his arms was a woman who inspired fantasies. A calming of the daemon. A taming of the beast. A future without pain and death.

Foolish thoughts. Better to have her hate him, slap him down, drive a stake through his heart, either real or metaphorical. He didn’t care. All he knew was that if he was going to keep his sanity he had to be rid of her, because having her near him without truly having her was the way into madness.

Already he’d shared more with her than with any woman he could remember. She’d asked more about his past and how he’d learned about vampires, and he’d told her about growing up in Londinium. About the rumors of the Dark Lady whose kiss could bring immortality.

He hadn’t fully explained the daemon. About the writhing, craving need that had risen inside him, and how he’d fought it so futilely for so long. He hadn’t told her about the curse or the beast. But he’d told her a bit about the good times. About dancing at court with ladies-in-waiting. About seeing plays at the Globe Theatre. About drinking ale with Leonardo da Vinci, the
two of them huddled over a sketch, trying to design a machine that could actually fly.

She’d listened with wide eyes, making soft noises of delight and amazement that had soothed his soul and urged him on.

When he’d felt spent, he’d asked about her life, and she’d seemingly obliged, but he couldn’t help but notice that she’d skipped over her childhood, failing entirely to mention her parents and saying little about the sister she’d lost. Only when she’d talked about the FBI had she been truly animated. It had started out as a quest and had turned into a passion.

“Do you miss it?” he’d asked.

“No, but I think that’s because I’m still basically doing the same thing.”

“Chasing bad guys, you mean.”

“Yeah, exactly.” She’d leaned forward, then, her elbow on her knee and her chin resting on her fist. “I want to know who’s organizing the rogues.”

“I know you do.”

“But you won’t tell me?”

“I’m not inclined to wish you dead.”

“I can handle myself. And one way or another, I will find out. Or do you have some other reason for not telling me?”

He’d laughed. “You mean am I protecting someone? No. Quite the opposite.”

Her eyes had narrowed. “You want to kill him yourself.”

She’d been right, of course, but he hadn’t admitted it, and she was smart enough to know when to change the subject. He was smart enough to know that wouldn’t be the end of it. But for now at least he was keeping Derrick’s
name out of it. Not because he didn’t trust her, but because Derrick belonged to him. The lure of their past had almost made him lose control.
Almost
. Serge had pulled it back, but could he do it again, and again after that?

No, he’d be the one to take Derrick down. And in doing so, he would amputate one more thing that triggered the beast.

Now, though, Derrick and the rogues were long forgotten, pushed aside by the roar of the wind through their hair.

“Here?” Alexis shouted over the engine.

“The next left,” Serge replied, letting go of her waist for long enough to point.

She took the turn fast, expertly handling the bike, and when she eased off the accelerator at the main gate of the community, Serge had to admit that he took a great deal of pleasure in simply being along for the ride. It was unexpectedly freeing.

“Gate code?” she asked.

He gave it to her, and she punched it in. The gate swung open, and they rolled down the hill toward the houses that lined the beach on the exclusive, private drive.

“Here,” he said, pointing to a parking area. She killed the engine, and they both got off. He led her down a walking path that meandered between two well-manicured properties. He was leading her to the shore, then they would walk north in the surf until they reached Luke and Sara’s house. He could have had her park closer, but he’d wanted to prolong the moment.

“Are we close?” she asked after they’d passed two houses, including the one Serge had been squatting in.

“There,” he said, pointing to Luke’s wooden deck.

“Great. Let’s go.” She curved in, away from the water and toward the dry sand.

“No,” he said, firmly grasping her elbow. “The girl’s had a hell of a time. We’ll find a place to look in, to watch. It’s still early, so we’ll probably see her. If not, then too bad. We’re not knocking on the door. We’re not announcing ourselves. You’re not undoing whatever good Luke and Sara have done for that poor kid by smacking her in the face with memories when she sees either you or me.”

Her nod was both serious and contrite. “You’re right. Of course.” A brief hesitation, and then she cocked her head, looking at him with new curiosity. “Luke and Sara?”

“Her family,” he said firmly.

“Family? So this is her home?”

There was hope in her eyes when she asked that, as if returning her home would have made him a true hero. “It is,” he said, and he knew he was speaking the truth. Her biological family had never given her a home, and they were no longer hers anyway. She’d been born into the shadow world, and she’d find new parents in Luke and Sara. The kind of mentors she deserved.

He ignored the voice in his head that pointed out that
he
should be CeeCee’s mentor. He was the one who’d made her. The one she wanted. And possibly the only one who could truly explain what she now was. He’d made his decision when he’d put her into Sara’s care. When the beast had been about to burst free. Since then, he’d wanted to come to this very house and talk to her. Or at least talk to Sara. But he hadn’t. He didn’t want to face CeeCee’s pleas or Sara’s recriminations.