Heir of Doom

Chapter Three

Chapter ThreeOn Thursday evening while I walked home, head lowered, body braced against the wind, something happened. One step, I was planning to bake some cookies to please Frizz, the next, the hairs on my neck stood at attention and goosebumps broke out over my body.

Night had fallen, but you wouldn't know that for all the lights illuminating the streets and surrounding shops. I raised my head, searched the people ahead, checked the reflection of those behind me on the windows of passing cars and shops. There was nothing I could pinpoint, no reason I could find for the alarm.

A nervous ball rolled inside my stomach, a feeling of prey being stalked, and my gut had never led me askew.

There were eyes on me. Predatory, hunting eyes. It wasn't rush hour, but there were enough cars on the street, enough people on the sidewalks for an attack to be noticed.

Someone bumped my shoulder, and I glanced sideways, expecting to see someone brushing by. Instead, I found a woman, long hair bound in a high ponytail, keeping pace with me. She was shorter by a few inches, dressed in a nice short burgundy jacket that looked expensive and not suitable for the frigid temperature. Her neck and hands were bare, the cold not affecting her. My heart skipped a beat, not for the fact a prickly memory told me I'd seen her somewhere before, or the strange thick air about her. No, it was the dark red, almost purple aura surrounding her that kicked my fear awake. That and the horrific fact her face flickered between a corpse-like mummy and a beautiful brunette.

A vampire. An ancient one if the dark purple color mixed with the red in her aura was any indicator.

“There is an alleyway ahead,” she said without preamble, her accent one I couldn't place. “We will turn into it together.”

“No, we're not,” I replied calmly, despite my churning anxiety. Maybe I didn't know how the preternatural community worked, but I was no fool either.

A knowing secretive smile lifted the corners of her lips, the kind that said the other shoe would drop soon and she was very pleased. The guy coming from the opposite direction must have sensed the menace oozing from her, because he gave her a wide berth, his complexion draining of color.

“I have your friend. If you don't come, I'll just have fun with her alone.” She looked at me and the empty, total lack of humanity in her blue eyes was like an icy splash to the face. “She's young and fragile. I'm afraid she won't last long.”

She pressed something in my pocket, against the palm of my hand, picked up her pace and moved away, tucking her hands in her pockets.

Angelina Hawthorn of Bond Street, was the thought that came to mind. Like an unexpected bolt of electricity, I jolted, recalling where I'd seen her before: in the mind of the mercenary vampire who had attacked me in Marian's B& B all those many weeks ago. He'd been the reason I'd ran from that small town, even before I'd met Logan. The starting point to the domino fall that brought me here to New York.

And I'd killed him with a psychic ability I still couldn't fathom.

I watched her go, my mind whirling with thoughts. When she turned into the alleyway, I snapped out of it.

My first thought was Vicky was in Sacramento. Relief was an acute pang that left me weak.

But when I glanced down at what Angelina pressed into my hand, a honey-colored lock of hair that looked so familiar, relief turned into grave fear.

Vicky!

I didn't think twice. I followed Angelina. If she had Vicky with her… if she had Vicky with her… God, I couldn't even finish the thought. Now would be another brilliant time to be carrying my phone.

Damn you, Roxanne, damn you. So what if Roland could track you through your phone?

I cursed myself into the alleyway, knowing I couldn't risk Angelina torturing my friend because she thought I didn't follow fast enough.

A few feet in and it was as if I entered another dimension. The noise of traffic was still loud, the burning smell of exhaust still thick, but there was a muffled quality, as if I had entered a room and shut the door. Or maybe it was all the blood roaring in my ears.

The acrid smell of piss and decay got stronger the farther I got, my footsteps echoing in the confined space. I didn't slow or tried being silent, I was sure Angelina was aware of my presence.

In any other situation, I'd have stopped to consider where I was going, figured any possibility of escape, and tried to form a plan. Hell, if this was any other situation I wouldn't have been so foolish as to follow a vampire whose lover I killed a few months earlier. This had trap written all over it. I clenched the lock of hair and hurried after the vampire.

I could barely see ahead and was aware the light from the mouth of the alley marked my presence to anyone in front. I was attuned to every noise, every pair of scurrying feet, trying to pick any nuance with my other senses. That's what saved me–the air displacement behind me. I ducked, rolled, and squished something rotten and disgusting beneath my weight. What was with me and stinky alleyways? I finished the roll, jumped up and pushed Angelina as hard as I could. There was a grunt and a hiss, but instead of hitting the wall like I'd intended her to, she pulled on her brakes and did a one-eighty, barely losing momentum.

She rushed me fast, grabbing me by the throat. I garbled out a choked sound, slashed her wrists with my talons and kicked her hard. She let go with a grunt and I backed away, talons ready.

She came at me, a whirlwind of shadow and teeth, and I dodged too late. Nails and teeth dug deep into my bicep, ripping muscle when I pulled away. I punched her, catching her in the shoulder, and although my well-formed muscles were strong, she didn't budge or twist with the impact. I kicked and hit only air.

I backpedaled to the wall, keeping it behind me as I searched and listened to the darkness. “Vicky?” I called. “If you're here, grunt. Make a–”

I rolled to the right, atop more disgusting things, and jumped up. I searched the darkness, left, right, back. Where did she go…? And then I caught the shadow of a figure ahead. I rushed forward, not sure what I was doing. One thing Vincent taught me early on was to discern when it was better to stand and fight, when it was better to run. I'd have rather run, but I couldn't leave Vicky behind.

Angelina dodged the punch I aimed at her face. I aimed next at the moving shadows, and my fist found empty air. Damn, she was fast.

“Look, I never meant to”—kill—“hurt your friend. He came after me. I was just trying to live my life when—ooof.” Something heavy and hard hit me from behind and I head-butted the wall. Stars appeared in my vision, along with vultures and crossed bones. Warm blood started trickling down my face.

“He was my first,” A low voice said from somewhere to my right.

I straightened and turned in that direction, head pounding. Just on the other side of the alleyway, life went on as usual.

Talking was good. I pressed a hand to my head, tried to put some pressure on the wound. Talking was good. It meant she wasn't trying to kill me, right?

“I'm sorry. He wanted to enslave me. He wanted to take me somewhere and be my master.” Silence met my words and I cursed. Wrong thing to say. “He sounded like he was a great guy. Had a sense of humor too,” I babbled on.

“Did he talk about me?” she asked, this time from my left.

I spun in that direction and there were two of her. Maybe I had a concussion.

“Yes, yes. He couldn't stop talking about you.” Angelina snarled at the lie, and I hurried to add, “He called you Angelina Hawthorn of Bond Street.” She hesitated then, and I sensed her indecision.

“Liar.” The shadows split. There was another person beside her. I moved back, trying to find the wall again. Instead, I hit a body. I whirled and slashed, but it seemed like their night vision was way better than mine. A strong hand caught my wrist and pulled, bringing me flush with a man's broad torso. I think I smelled gardenias, but WTF, there was nothing but urine and garbage here.

“Vicky!” Strong hands pinned down my arms and I tried to buckle free, wiggling and stomping my foot on the guy's foot. I may have been a fly, so easy was my struggle thwarted. Angelina stalked forward.

“Tell me what happened to my Jacob,” she demanded.

“He ran away when I refused to become his slave. He was afraid of you.” A sharp punch to my stomach had me wheezing and pulling myself forward, trying to double over and ease the pain.

“Try again.”

“I'm telling the truth,” I began, but was cut off with another punch. I think she broke my lower rib. Or maybe ruptured an internal organ. The pain was unbelievable. Gasping, I stomped my heel at the foot of the guy behind me, high on the arch, putting all my pain behind the stomp. I heard the crunch of bones, a grunt and the arms pinning me loosened. I wiggled free, but Angelina caught me by the neck and pushed me back with so much strength, my throat closed and I gagged.

“Hold her,” she growled at the guy behind me. She moved closer and murmured, “I'll just drink the truth out of you.”

I was still processing her words when she bit me hard on the side of my neck. Atop the scarf and all. A stabbing, piercing pain moved through my body, making my knees weak, my weight supported by the guy behind me.

The pain, however, was nothing compared to the sensation of someone violating my private thoughts like so many discarded postcards. I could tell what she was seeing, and I tried to reverse the process, like I'd done to her Jacob. The moment the thought crossed my mind, Angelina latched on to it like a burr, sucking in all that horrible memory, “drinking” the truth of what happened.

She hesitated at the part where I pushed Jacob out of my mind and followed him into his, but she could also see the horror and confusion of what I'd done.

The alarm I should've felt at how weak I was warred for first place with relief when her fangs released my neck. My knees buckled with my heavy weight. The guy let go and I crumpled to the ground, a mess of limbs and weakness.

Angelina crouched, her eyes heavy on me. “It is interesting. So many people want you, but it was so easy to subdue you.” She shifted and I cringed away. Everything hurt. I was so weak. My heart beat too fast, faster than it had ever before.

Gently, she touched a lock of my hair, the gesture belying the threat of her next words. “Killing you would anger so many, but I suppose a little fun won't hurt.” She chuckled. “I can't speak for you, though. I do want you to hurt, agonizingly so.” She tugged hard at my hair and the bite on my neck twinged. Blood oozed from the puncture, warm and sluggish. My hands morphed into talons–I had no clue when talons shifted back to fingers–and I prayed for an opening. I remembered how fast Jacob had been and knew Angelina would be faster, smarter.

“I will keep you somewhat whole, I promise, for I don't want to lug you throughout our journey.”

“I'd rather die than be taken to your master,” I croaked. God, it hurt to speak.

Angelina laughed. “Oh, but I have no master. I have business associates, many of them. No one owns me. I'm the one who owns people. Maybe I can make you one of mine. Hmm-mm. Maybe I should turn you.”

The thought was terrifying, and I knew I was running out of time. I had to move, now.

“Where's Vicky?” Though I already knew. Either she wasn't here or she was already dead. I refused to believe the latter, not without proof.

She tsked, amused. “You're in no position to make demands, my dear.”

“Just tell me where she is. Is she alive?”

Angelina leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I'll tell you this. You'll find out if your friend is dead or alive soon enough.”

She stood and the other guy stepped forward, picked me up and slung me over a broad shoulder. I dangled for an instant upside down, blood flowing along my neck and ear before plopping to the floor.

The guy inhaled, and I mustered strength, heaved up, braced a hand on his back. His hold tightened on my leg, anchoring me. Teeth gritted against the coming pain, I twisted to the left and dug my talons deep into his neck, and pulled in one swift movement. I put a lot into this motion and felt, even as I fell, unconsciousness dragging me under. How much did Angelina drink?

I dropped with a wet splat, my arms too weak to prevent my face from making acquaintance with concrete, and I think I blacked out for a moment because the next thing I knew I was upright, with Angelina's fists clenching the lapel of my coat, her face inches away. I could sense her rage, a hot wave of buzzing electrical wires.

“I'll kill you,” she hissed and pushed me away, hard enough that I was airborne for a whole second or two. I hit the wall hard, cracking my head and elbow. My teeth clacked, and a piece broke loose.

Incredibly, I fell upright, but the effect was lost when my knees buckled and I went down. God must have loved me because I didn't black out again. Or maybe he hated me. Angelina rushed at me in a blur of fury and punches, and I tried to fight back, to s***h at her. She batted my hand away with her fist and I felt–and heard–the bones of my hand break on impact, and couldn't help but scream at the sensation of things no longer in their proper place.

With a roar loud enough to be heard above screeching horns, she picked me up again like a wrestler and threw me against the next wall. I tried to brace myself against the impact, but I never hit it, never fell to the ground.

I opened my eyes, unsure when they'd closed. I was in someone's arms. Feminine and fragrant, the sweet, citrusy scent something I recognized.

“This is not your fight, Fee,” Angelina spat from a few feet away.

I tried to stand, and was placed on my feet. I braced a hand on the filthy wall beside me, the other pulsating with pain, glanced sideways, already knowing what I'd find.

Leon Ora Maiche, aka Lee, the enforcer of the Seelie court. She was just a shadow, but the tall, proud Fee warrior was unmistakable, the silvery glow of her aura one I'd hoped never to see again.

“This Dhiultadh owes me a favor,” Lee said, her voice cold and unfeeling. “Until the bargain is met, she belongs to me.”

I sensed Angelina's eyes on me, an odd heavy sting of speculation. “She killed two of my scions, she owes me a blood debt.”

“Ay, she did.” Lee shifted her body in my direction, though her face stayed turned toward Angelina. “Did you kill her scions unprovoked, Daughter of Fosch?”

“No. I was attacked first.” It hurt to speak.

“It is settled, then. This Dhiultadh owes you not,” Lee concluded.

Angelina said nothing.

Lee shifted. “She owes you nothing. Leave now, before I decide mercy is not worthy of you.”

Angelina hesitated for a second before she turned and fled into the night.

Lee's eyes fell on me. I shivered. Aches that had been muted awakened with vengeance, but my mind was clear of any fog. “I don't owe you for saving me today,” I croaked in lue of thanks.

“You should go before she returns. Stay away from the dead.” With that said, she disappeared.

It took me forever to take off the dead vampire's jacket and replace it with my bloodied, ripped coat. It was huge on me, but it was better than walking into the street looking like I'd been attacked by a pack of rabid wolves. There was nothing I could do about my battered face save for wiping the blood with a linen handkerchief I found in the pocket of the big jacket. I zipped it closed all the way, the scent of gardenias overwhelming. At least he had good hygiene.

I weaved out of the alleyway, flipping the collar up to cover my neck and ears. I got some dubious looks from a few passersby, but most ignored me.

The moment I stepped into my apartment I headed for my cell phone, lying on the counter where I'd left it. I dialed Vicky's number from memory and waited. It rang once, twice, three times. “Come on, come on, come on.” It went to voicemail.

I closed my eyes and lowered my head, a prickling sensation burning the corner of my eyes, clogging my aching throat. I sank to the tiled floor and braced my aching head over my knees. Frizz appeared and leaned against my side just as the cell phone started ringing. I jumped to my feet with a boost of energy I didn't know I still had and grabbed for the phone. The display read V, with an image of her profile smiling at something to the side.

“Hey.”

“Roxy! You won't believe what happened today.”

I sank back to the tiles, hugging Frizz as I listened to my friend's voice.

I didn't go to base the following day. Instead, I extended the weekend and drank lots of orange juice, trying to build up strength as fast as possible. No one called to inquire about my absence, and although I was relieved I wouldn't have to explain myself, I was also hurt no one noticed I was missing.

Later that evening found me locked in an internal argument on whether I should call Roland or not. On one side, how could I explain Lee to him? On the other, Angelina had known where to ambush me, had known about Vicky–enough to use her against me. Could she have gathered information about me on her own? She mentioned business associates. I didn't put past a few of the Hunters to hire someone to get rid of me. In the end, it was the possibility of a Hunter hiring after me that prompted me to make the call. I knew Roland wouldn't put up with someone offing me after he went through the trouble of releasing me from the PSS.

Within thirty minutes of my call, he was knocking at my door.

He took one look at my grayish complexion and ushered me to the sofa. Without a word, he sat to listen to my story.

There was no impatience or annoyance as I took my time explaining what happened, starting on that rainy evening in Marian's B&B, leaving nothing out. I'm sure he'd seen the PSS's report of the vampire's attack–Jacob. Well, I left out a few details of Angelina's attack, like the fact Lee saved me. Because the Fee would have never saved me if not for our bargain, and I wasn't telling him that.

I admit I hadn't been prepared for all the detailed questions Roland threw at me, and could read the what-a-fool look he quickly concealed when I told him I followed her into the alleyway of my own freewill.

Once all the questions were asked and answered, Roland made a few calls, dispatched Hunter members to search for Angelina and to pick up a dead vampire from the alleyway–if there was still a body. It made me guilty, because what if someone else, a human, stumbled upon the scene?

Once that part was dealt with, He called Harry, a member of the Cyber team and asked all information available on Angelina Hawthorn be ready on his desk by Monday morning. I felt guilty here too, because Harry would spend the turn of the year stuck on desk duty.

“Would you like assistance healing?” Roland asked before leaving.

I almost said yes, before I thought better of it. I knew from previous conversations with Vincent that being able to shift to an alternative form meant instant healing. Only Vincent and Roland were aware of my inability to shift, though Vincent was hopeful I'd be able to one day soon, considering that Dratcha–the alternative beast with four arms and glowing yellow eyes–was a dominant trait, and I already had the talons.

If I accepted the help of a member to heal me now, I'd never be able to gain their respect.

“No, thank you,” I said. “The worst was a broken hand, which healed when I shifted my hand a few times,”—and hurt so much I passed out—“and the loss of blood. Nothing some rest and orange juice can't heal.” And a dentist, I thought, poking my tongue at the chipped molar. “I'll be back for training on Monday morning.”

I must have sounded convincing because Roland nodded and left.

The weekend brought the end of the year and the beginning of a new one, and again I spent it watching TV beside Frizz and listening to countdowns and fireworks. In a few hours, Vicky would be cheering with friends on the other side of the country. I wished I had asked for the week off and gone down with her.

Awake and with nothing else to do, I checked e-mails and f*******:, finding that Vicky had posted tons of photos of herself, Tommy, and a lot of people I recognized but hadn't seen in years. I also found an e-mail from Vincent from last Sunday, detailing the same instructions Valerie had handed me on Monday. There wasn't another one for this coming week, and I presumed it meant he'd be there to pick up the training again.