Phoenix Fallen (17 page)

The next night Rissa was in a staring contest. With her hotel room door.

I have to go to rehearsal.

I don't want to go. 

Anywhere. Ever.

Dinner with Kelsey and Fannie had been good for her. Maybe.
Probably.
But it hadn't fixed anything. She was glad Jules' friends were rooting for her. Sure she was. That was grand.

He wouldn't care, though. Jules was done with her. Mr. Destiny had gotten a sucker punch from her past and that was that. All the secret hopes that Rissa hadn't even realized she'd been entertaining were gone. Shattered like the remnants of her picture frame.

She didn't blame him, Of course not.

Maybe a little.

Because it wasn't
fair.
Daimen wasn't
her
. No more than Jules was Rousseau. Yes, she wished she'd cut ties with him sooner. Yes, she wished she'd been able to stop what happened to Jules' family…but as she had told Jules, there had been
no
chance of that. None.

No matter what she'd have done that night, they would have died. At least she'd gotten away before she could have been forced into participating. Rissa shuddered.

And he'd gotten away, too. She wondered now if the pull she'd felt towards Jules was part of a connection forged that terrible night. Two souls, broken in different ways by the same man…

Rissa shook her head and opened the door.

It. Was.
Over.

Best face that now, hard as it was. Rissa lifted her chin and walked down the hall, even as tears stung her eyes. She didn't notice the chill that had crept over her skin until she opened the parking garage door. Immediately, terror trailed its cold hand down her back.

The trill of a whistle echoed and bounced off the concrete.

Rissa froze.

No,
please.
But she whirled and there he was.

Just like in her nightmares, in her memories. Angel's face, ragged trench coat, green eyes alive with gleeful malice. Daimen.

No. No. No.
NO!

The screams went on and on in her mind, but she didn't say a word. Just stared at him in shock.

His white-blond hair fell over one eye as he looked her up and down.

"Looking mighty fine, Miss Riss. In spite of everything."

She ignored the taunting in his words, the meaning that seemed to lurk there. There was only one answer she wanted from him.

"What do you
want,
Daimen?"

"What? No, 'Hello there, pops, how's it hanging?'"

"You know better than that, Daimen."

"Yes." He nodded sadly, his fingers reaching for her hair. She jerked back. He dropped his hand slowly, his eyes going to emerald ice. She felt the touch of his power instantly. It coiled over her wrist, working its way up her arm like the cold underbelly of a snake as he spoke.

"You left me, Rissa. You left me and you didn't even bother with a note. What was that about?"

"What do you care?" She hissed it at him, trying to breathe deep as she forced her mind to close, locking it down one shutter at a time. As she'd practiced. Every single night without fail since she'd left him. "It's been over twenty years, Daimen. Surely you haven't missed me."

"Oh, but I
have
, cher. And I've been keeping my eye on you, too. St. Louis. Memphis. Little Rock. Austin. Hollywood." He ticked off each city on a finger, smiling as he saw her flinch. "And now here you are. Chicago."

His power thickened, spreading over her skin, oily and thick. Searching for a way in, teasing at every door and window. Tapping at the glass.
No.
Rissa refused to let him in. Her jaw clenched with the effort of keeping him out, but keep him out she did.

His eyes widened. "My, my. Someone has been learning to be tricksy, hasn't she?"

Her lips thinned, but she didn't answer. His power withdrew abruptly. She let out a breath and her shoulders sagged briefly before she caught herself. Daimen gave a long-suffering sigh.

"I never figured you for a tricksy one, Rissa. Of course, you surprised me once before, didn't you?" He cocked his head, tapping his fingers on his chin. "But we'll see how your little tricks hold up once I add a little pain to the mix." In one blurred movement, he was on her, his hand fisted in her hair, yanking it back ruthlessly, the pressure tearing at her scalp. His face now an inch from hers. "Or a
lot."

Her eyes stung, but she didn't blink.

Daimen laughed and released her.

Rissa resisted the urge to rub her throbbing head. This was so bad. Despair settled into her heart. She could keep him out. But not indefinitely. And she couldn't run. Daimen was her sire. He had ten times her speed and strength and he was vicious. Despite herself, her head bowed. But Daimen's next words had it snapping up again. He was holding out her cell phone. She patted her coat pocket automatically, unsurprised to find it empty. Daimen was a master pickpocket and excellent at sleight of hand. Talents she knew came from his carnie past. But Rissa didn't understand what he wanted with her phone.

Obviously enjoying her confusion, he spoke the words slowly, almost caressingly.
"Call him."

Daimen smiled into her widening eyes. Rissa had tried not to react, not to flinch but…

"Who do you mean?"

"Don't play stupid, Rissa. Your goddamn
nigger lover.
The baby vamp. Call him. Get him here, now. I wanna play."

She forced herself to smile back, even as his words made her her heart race in sick fear.
Jules.
He knew about her and Jules. But surely Daimen didn't really know who Jules
was
. He couldn't have any idea Jules was that boy who had gotten away from him in the swamp all those years. Could he?

Impossibly she found herself thanking a god she didn't believe in that Jules had broken it off with her.

Rissa let the bitter satisfaction lace her words. "He won't come. He's done with me. Nothing I could say would bring him here now, Daimen.
Nothing."

His face tightened at the finality in her words. He would know better than any that she wasn't lying, but a twinkle formed in his eyes anyway. A twinkle that drove cold fingers of fear into her heart and squeezed.

"Then let's improvise. Shall we?"

Jules paced the polished hardwood floor in his living room. Up and down and back and around, feeling like a caged tiger. There was no reason he couldn't go out, but he didn't want to. There was only one thing he wanted. Cross.

Miles maintained he had no idea where than man was, but he'd promised to look deeper. If anyone should be able to find that demented son of a bitch, it would be Miles. He and Kelsey had flown to New York City for the night, something to do with Miles considering opening a hospital for shades there, but Miles had left Jules the dossier on Cross.

Jules had read it until his eyes felt like they were going to bleed. He still held the thick file in one hand as he paced.

His doorbell rang. Jules stopped and stared down the dim hallway at his front door. A shadow darkened the blue glass, then disappeared.

People didn't ring his doorbell. Friends called. Or they texted when they pulled up. Salesman didn't hawk their wares at eight o'clock on a fucking Friday night. Nor did Jehovah's Witnesses or goddamn Mormons. What the hell? In his jumped-up mood, it was less than five long strides to the door. He tossed the file on the foyer table, before yanking the door open.

August heat immediately engulfed him. The wide porch was empty. The painted grey-blue boards almost silver in the night. He could smell the red geraniums Fannie had insisted on hanging on either side of his door. An odd shiver tingled the back of his neck as Jules looked one way then the other. He raised his hand and rubbed it away.

Kids
. Brave ones, or just plain stupid, since most people in the neighborhood knew what he was now. Jules turned to go back inside when a shrill whistle split the night.

He looked back over his shoulder and froze.

Standing in the glow from the streetlight, as if conjured from his thoughts stood Daimen Cross. Caged within the circle of his arms, her face so pale it was nearly luminescent, stood Rissa. Jules turned slowly. For a moment he didn't notice the car next to the pair. He could only see Rissa.

Rissa with that monster's hands on her.

Jules took his time walking down the steps, the sidewalk. Cross didn't move, just watched him come, the faintest of smiles on his lips. When Jules' bare feet hit the warmth of the asphalt he finally spoke, the rolling drawl just as Jules remembered it from his nightmares.

"Well now, that's plenty far enough, boy. We don't want anyone getting hurt, now do we?" He lifted a hand to Rissa's face and brushed her cheek with his fingers. Jules stopped, rage humming through his bones.

"What do you want, Cross?"

Daimen's eyes widened at Jules' use of his name. His eyes flickered down to Rissa. "You been telling tales, little girl?" He yanked her arm behind her back, pulling it high so that she leaned forward, gasping. Jules moved again, but Cross lifted a warning hand, his voice utterly reasonable and almost pleasant. Jules's skin crawled. "No need for that, I'll stop." The vampire let off the pressure on Rissa's arm, allowing her to straighten as he smiled winningly at Jules.

"You know, she told me you all broke it off? That you didn't give a
damn
about her anymore. And I believed her, really, I did. It's so very disappointing to be lied to." He shook Rissa once, hard. His gaze never left Jules. "Or perhaps you just convinced her of that, hmm?"

Jules didn’t move, but Cross's grin widened. "Yes, I
do
believe that's it, isn't it? But you do care, so very, very much."

A tendril of power teased down Jules' arm and he shook it hard, giving Cross a look. The vampire only smiled wider, and the exploring touch vanished. "And you have powers of your own, don't you? Good show! This will be fun. So let's open the ball, shall we? I'm gonna take Miss Riss here for a ride, because we're old friends and it's been a real long time since her and I had a good, long chat. I'd invite you along, but we really need some private time. Surely you understand. Maybe we'll even stop for some horizontal refreshments along the way…" Daimen's voice took on a hint of laughter as Jules flinched.

"…though considering where she's been lately, I just don't know if I want to go there. Perhaps my friends won't be so choosy, though." He waved a hand at the car and for the first time Jules noted the other men. At least three of them, and all likely to be vamps.
Shit.

"But when we get where we're going, I'm gonna give you a call so you can join the party. You got to love technology, don't you? I'm afraid I'm a bit of a troglodyte myself, but these cell phones are
quite
the deal. We'll give you instructions so you can met up with us. And
then
…Then we can have us some real fun, away from the nasty old city. What so you say, boy? Want to play?"

Jules' skin crawled hearing those words again. "I know all about your games, Cross. What do you have in store for me out there? More of those?" He yanked a thumb at the men in the car. "How many do you have helping with your dirty work now, you sick bastard? What happened to the women? That blonde and the little brunette?"

Cross looked puzzled as Rissa's eyes widened in fear. But Jules ignored her, wanting to see if Cross would work it out. "You know, boy. I'd almost think we were acquainted. Not that I am in the habit of hanging out with uppity niggers…but tell me, have we been introduced?"

Jules' jaw clenched. "You could say that. About 25 years ago, down in Pointe Coupee Parish."

Cross rocked back on his heels, his face screwed up in thought. It didn’t take him long. He let out a long, low whistle as delight broke over his face.

"Oh, this is
precious.
You're that little nigger brat from the bayou, aren't you? The one that got away? Heaven to betsy,
you are!
To think of you with
my
Riss." Cross shook his head, blonde hair flying as he laughed. "Lord, ain't life just grand?"

Then he twisted Rissa's arm again, hard, until she let out a small cry. His other hand stroked her throat possessively as he stared at Jules.

The sight of that bastard touching Rissa made hatred sizzle in Jules' stomach like brimstone. He didn't want to kill this monster, he wanted to shred him. To pick his blood and sinew and bones from his teeth, to gut him and stomp on his steaming entrails.

For the first time, Jules was
glad
to be a vampire. Not only that, but glad it had been
Miles
that had turned him. Glad to know because of the sheer power of his sire, his strength might just be a match for this white-haired son of a bitch. And what strength wouldn't give him, fury and hatred would.

“
The one that got away.
My, my. The fates have been nasty to you, haven't they, boy? Who turned you?”

Jules smiled, a slow, hard smile that showed his fangs. “Nobody special.”

Daimen blinked, obviously realizing he was evading but not why.

Rissa didn’t make a sound, just stared at Jules, her eyes diamond bright as if she was trying desperately to send him a warning as Cross dragged her over next to the car door.

“If you hurt her, I will rip you apart.”

With a chuckle, Cross stopped and deliberately ripped Rissa’s hair back. He ran his fangs down her throat inch by inch, until scarlet beaded up against ivory, the blood trailing down her skin like liquid rubies before he licked it off slowly, lasciviously, looking into Jules’ eyes.

“Oh, I
promise
I will hurt her. But I'll make her like it, don't you fret." Daimen laughed as Jules took a step forward, shaking with fury. "Now, you just mind what I say, boy, and back off before I decide to rip her pretty little head off right here and now."

Once again, Jules halted. Close enough now that he could smell Rissa, her honeysuckle scent…and her fear. Her eyes locked with his as Cross continued his taunting. Jules could see the fire in that ice-blue, dampened but not out. Rissa hadn't given up, not yet.

But if Cross got his way, she
would.

That wasn't going to happen. Jules wasn't going to let that happen. But how could he stop it? He needed an edge on this bastard if he had any shot of saving her. With an effort, he tuned back into Cross.

"…few hours and I will let you know where we are. Then you can come and enjoy my amazing private show. You will come and play like a good boy
this
time, won't you? No running away?"

Jules nodded once, not responding to the dig, his body feeling hollowed and empty as he tried desperately to think of something, anything that would even these odds.

Numb, he watched Cross force Rissa down, into the car. Other hands pulled her inside and Cross turned to tip an imaginary hat mockingly to Jules as he slid into the passenger seat.

Jules could just make out Rissa's face through the tinted windows, her gaze locked with his one last time and then she was gone.

Jules went to his knees on the pebbly, oil-stained pavement. He felt sick and weak. So full of fear he could feel it oozing from his pores, the stink of it on his skin. Just as he had felt all those years ago. He didn't want to love her, but just as he told Miles, he
did.
That was an irrefutable fact and not one that could disappear overnight, if ever at all.

His gut went cold and rubbery. By the time Cross called, Jules had no doubt that Rissa would be under his control, or dead. She was keeping him out for now, but eventually…

Rissa didn't have Cross's powers, she wasn't even a para. And he was her sire. Eventually he'd get in. Take over her. Through pain or torture or the rape he'd threatened, Cross would break her, find a crack and worm his way inside.

Unless Jules could find her before Cross called, if he could just get a head start on the bastard...

He fell forward in desperation, his forehead and palms on the cement, trying to pull her essence from unyielding road. Nothing. He knew it was stupid.

The contact had been too brief, too minimal for his powers to catch more than a taste of both Cross and Rissa. Jules turned his head, his cheek catching on the asphalt as his eyes stung.

"Oh god, Rissa. I—" Something glittered. He blinked, his head lifting as his eyes cleared. What was that? He crawled forward, his breath catching as he got close enough to recognize Rissa's bracelet sparkling in the dull yellow of the sodium lights. He stared at it as something started to flutter in his dry throat. Something very like hope.

Jules scooped the precious object into his hand and got to his feet. This is what she'd been trying to tell him. She'd dropped the goddamn bracelet. Here was the edge he needed.

With a satisfied growl, Jules reached for his cell and started dialing. He was going to find Rissa. He was going to find her and he was going to kill that redneck bastard, but he was leaving nothing to chance.

It was Kelsey's phone he dialed, but it wasn't Kelsey who picked up.

"Jules. Kels is in the shower. I can have her—"

"No. It's you I need. Well, both of you. But especially you."

There was a moment of ringing silence on the other end of the line. Jules could almost see Miles pulling back and staring at the phone. That damn arrogant blonde head tilting as the vampire tried to figure out if he'd heard right.

"Yes. You heard me, Miles.
I need you.
"

"
Oui.
Of course. What is it, Jules?"

Jules told him There was no hesitation, no qualifying. Minimal stupid questions. It was Cross. Cross had Rissa.

And that was the end of that. But Miles and Kelsey were in New York. Miles estimated a minimum of two hours, more likely three. He could send help to Jules, but Jules couldn't wait and without someone to track….

Since Rissa's location was still in flux, Jules had no idea where to send anyone.

Okay.
Fuck it.

He told Miles to come as soon as he could, knowing Kelsey would be able to lead him to wherever Jules ended up. Meanwhile, he had another friend to call on.

One who would be damn helpful as Cross seemed intent on getting out of the city. Someone who would be more than at home in a rural environment. Jules smiled tightly as he hit the phone one more time.

Jules ignored the sounds of children laughing and squealing on the other end when the call connected. He kept it short and to the point.

"Rissa's in trouble. I think I am going to need your skills, nature boy. I can be there in ten. Are you up for this?"

"Absolutely." Scott's voice hung on to bland easily, not giving away a thing, but Jules heard Fannie in the background anyway. The immediate concern in her voice as she hissed a question in Scott's ear. It was impossible to fool an empath. Jules doubted Scott would even try. It was his kids the man was keeping it cool for.

He heard Scott's voice, muffled and short as he said something to Fannie that made her fall silent. A second later Jules heard a door close and then, "How bad is it, kemosabe?"

"As bad as you can imagine. Scott, this…it's the guy who killed my family. Daimen Cross."