Queen of Shadows (16 page)

Faith had intimated more than once that she should stay. Even David had hinted, without really meaning to, that he didn’t want her to leave, but he had also said flat out that she was at risk here, and that the best thing for her safety was to return to the anonymity of the city.

Miranda wasn’t totally sure she believed that. Surely the safest place for her, if vampires wanted to kill her, was with the Prime? But he was adamant, so much so that she had to wonder if there was something he wasn’t telling her.

As if summoned by her thoughts, David emerged from the Haven, pausing at the head of the path to look for her. She waved.

He crossed the garden to her, stepping adroitly between plants and around a fountain, and joined her with a smile of greeting.

“I’m going into town tonight, but I wanted to see how you were,” he said.

“Not bad. How does it look?”

He scanned her quickly. She felt the light touch of his energy again, and when it was gone, she missed it terribly. She’d gotten so used to the embrace of his power, her security blanket, that living without it was much harder than she had expected.

“Good,” he answered. “You need to bolster your right side a little, but overall the flow is pretty consistent.”

Miranda took a moment to feel around where he’d indicated and breathe more energy into the shield; she never would have believed it, but he was right when he said it got easier. He’d been so proud of her. She was proud of herself.

“Any news?” she asked.

He made an indefinite move with his head. “Nothing concrete. We’ve had the warehouse under surveillance for days with no results. They move their meeting spots around, never the same place more than twice.”

“What about the mystery Blackthorn woman?”

“She doesn’t fit the descriptions of any of the clan’s women, and there weren’t many. The Blackthorn didn’t let their female members ascend very high in the ranks. There are two unaccounted for after the California wars, but without more evidence we can’t be sure which one she is, or if she is at all.”

“But the attacks have stopped—do you think they’re planning something?”

“They must be. I’ve stepped up patrols all over the territory, not just in Austin, but anywhere there’s been a related murder.”

She saw the frustrated look on his face, and said, “You hate that they’ve got the next move.”

“Yes. Until something breaks, they’re in control, and I find that rather distressing.”

“What about the citywide sensor network you were talking about?”

He made an impatient noise. “It’s going to take months. I’m still working bugs out of the prototype system, and after that it has to be manufactured, then installed, calibrated, tested . . . not to mention I have to convince Washington to loan me another satellite. Still, it’s the only workable plan we’ve got. Once it’s running I’ll be able to track every vampire in the city down to a one-block radius with only a two-second delay.”

“I guess you could always catch one and put a GPS collar on him before releasing him back into the wild.”

He chuckled, but looked thoughtful. “It’s an idea.”

His com chimed, and a voice said,
“Sire, the car’s ready for you.”

“Five minutes, Harlan,” he replied.

David turned his gaze to Miranda, and she could tell there was something he needed to say but didn’t want to. Even through her shield—and his—she felt a brief second of confusion mixed with apprehension, even a little embarrassment; but of course, it was all smoothed over and put away before she could say anything.

“I’ll be back in time for our session later,” was all he said. “Try to get some rest.”

“Good hunting,” she said.

To her surprise, before he left, he reached down for her hand and lifted it to his lips; again, she was sure he was going to say something, but all he did was release her hand and step back, saying, “Be safe.”

Then he walked away. She stood staring after him, her hand held up to her heart, the skin tingling long after he was gone.

A low rumble of thunder brought her back to herself, and she started walking again, this time almost furiously. Out of nowhere her thoughts went to what Faith had said that night, about her becoming Queen one day, and helpless anger roiled in her stomach the way the oncoming storm did in the sky.

Damn Faith for dangling such an impossible idea in front of her. It did nothing but feed on the niggling little fear in the back of Miranda’s mind that no matter what she did, she would never fit in among other people, and that here, the Haven, could be her home.

Sure. I’ll go out and start drinking blood right now. Then I’ll come back with fangs and a melanin deficiency and rule the world. And also, David will fall so madly in love with me that the Signet will pick me as his Queen and we’ll live happily ever after in bloodsucking bliss among the sparkly unicorns.

She wished she had something to throw.

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her cardigan, ducking her head against the rising wind. Looking back over her shoulder at the Haven, she felt even angrier and shook her head violently, trying to put as much distance between herself and the building as possible.

She walked past the stables, where the paddock was empty—the horses were inside like sensible creatures. There were two glossy blacks in there, she knew, a stallion and a mare, and though she was afraid of horses, she had been pleased at how much David cared for them. They followed him around like giant puppies when he came down to ride or groom them, prancing sideways and tossing their manes when they saw him, nosing his coat for sugar cubes. Animals by and large were leery of vampires, but he had raised these from foals. The stallion was named Osiris, the mare Isis.

The Lord of the Dead and the Queen of Heaven.

She snorted. Damn David, too, for good measure.

Impulsively she veered off the cobbled path and onto a narrow track that wound its way into the woods. She’d been out here once with Faith, who had showed her where the creek ran alongside the Haven grounds; the Second moved with confidence in the darkness, grabbing her hand more than once when she was about to blunder into a tree. They’d seen deer slipping shy and silver through the brush, and a white barn owl soaring silently overhead. The sound of the water would be soothing to Miranda’s jangled nerves, and if she got rained on, well, she wouldn’t melt.

“Miss Grey.”
Terrence’s voice issued from her wrist.
“Please don’t leave the path alone. The woods aren’t safe for you at night and it’s about to storm.”

She sighed. “Follow closer if you want. I’m not going far, I promise.”

They’d had a few minor clashes of will, and she always won. Most of the time she regretted pitting her desires against his orders, and she ended up apologizing, but tonight she didn’t care. Nothing was going to happen to her here; this was the Haven, and she was . . .

She stopped. A strange sound had managed to make its way through her irritation to her conscious mind.

The sound was a lack of sound. There was no noise—no birds, no deer, nothing. It was quiet, in the woods, at night.

Oh fuck. Miranda, you moron.

Slowly, she took a step back, and another. Swallowing the atavistic fear that clawed its way up along her spine, she turned on her heel and walked back toward the garden, dismayed at how far off the path she’d strayed in her mental tantrum. It was so dark . . . what had she been thinking, coming out here without a flashlight? The clouds had obscured the moon, and she could barely see through the trees, but there was enough light that she knew it wasn’t much farther.

Don’t run. Walk. Just keep walking. You’ll catch up with Terrence in a minute and have a good laugh. Don’t run.

She was fighting thousands of years of fight-or-flight instinct that clamored in her ears for her to bolt. She could feel it watching her . . . something in the trees . . . something hungry . . .

. . . just the way someone had been following her that night . . .

Panic gripped her, and she ran.

Branches snapped and leaves rustled behind her, and she blundered into a thick knot of bushes and had to fight her way through, feeling thorns scrape her arms and pull threads from her sweater. She broke free and ran faster, but somehow she’d gotten turned around and what she’d thought was the garden was actually the break in the trees around the creek.

The ground disappeared beneath her feet, and she tripped, a sharp pain shooting through her ankle. With a cry, she tumbled onto the bank, reaching for something to stop her fall, roots ripping her clothes until with one last sickening lurch she slid off the bank and into the burbling water.

By some miracle, she didn’t lose consciousness when her head struck the exposed limestone at the bottom, and by another miracle, the water wasn’t that deep. She fought her way upright to find herself only submerged to her hips. Miranda tasted blood; she’d bitten her lip during the fall.

A twig snapped above her. “Terrence?” she called. “I’m down here!”

There was no reply, so she tried to get to her feet. Her ankle gave way and sent her back to the ground, pain coursing through her leg. Broken? She didn’t think so, but it was badly sprained and wouldn’t hold her weight.

She expected Terrence’s head to appear over the bank, and when it didn’t, she tried her com. “Elite Twenty-nine.”

It chimed, telling her the com had connected to Terrence, but he didn’t respond. She repeated the code, adding, “Terrence, this is Miranda. I’m in the creek and can’t get out without help.”

Something moved up in the trees, and fear prickled her scalp. Her heartbeat stepped up.

Her com chimed, and a soft, ghostly voice said,
“Terrence can’t come to the phone right now . . . but I can see you, Miranda.”

She looked around frantically. “Stay the fuck away from me!” she yelled into the night.

“Do you taste as luscious as you look, little girl?”

It was coming closer. She backed up against the bank, feeling around for a weapon, her fingers closing around a chunk of rock lodged in the mud. As thunder rattled through the trees, she worked to pry the rock free, knowing it was an inadequate defense against what was coming—but it was something. Desperate, she said into her com, “Star-one!”

“He’s not going to find you, baby. I’ve already got you. I’m going to hold you down and fuck your pretty body, then drain you till you shrivel.”

Why, oh why had David taken down the shield? If it were still up, he could find her anywhere. He’d already be on his way. Maybe, just maybe he was monitoring her frequency, and knew something was wrong.

“He wants to taste you, too,”
the voice went on, cold and heartless.
“That’s all you are to us . . . all you’ll ever be.”

She couldn’t fight a vampire. She couldn’t run.

She let the old anger rise up through her as it had when she’d struck at Helen. She had been here before. Compared to what had already been done to her, death was nothing.

“Come on, then!” she challenged the darkness, yelling to be heard over the wind, brandishing her rock. “Come get me, you bastard!”

“Poor little lost girl, thinks she’s so strong. She has no idea what’s really out there in the dark . . . close your eyes, pretty baby, it’ll all be over soon.”

Just then a voice erupted over the network.
“Guess again.”

Lightning split the sky, and Miranda saw a second’s glimpse of someone on the bank, saw them leap down at her—

Her mind had no idea how to interpret what happened next. The air in front of her seemed to shimmer, then coalesce, each mote of darkness igniting and fusing. A shadow formed among the shadows, and solidified.

The Prime appeared, standing between her and her attacker.

It couldn’t change course in time to avoid him. David snarled, another flash of lightning catching on the silver of his eyes and the gleaming white of his teeth, and seized the attacker and flung it into the side of the creek, where it hit with the deafening crack of broken bones.

Miranda shrank back, falling into the creek again, her knees hitting the bottom hard enough to bleed.

The attacker was struggling up out of the water, but David was already on him; he dropped on the figure like a striking hawk, and she heard her attacker’s agonized cry. A few minutes later, there was a loud splash as the Prime dropped the body in the water.

The rain let loose. Lightning flashed again, and she saw blood on David’s mouth. They stared at each other in the darkness.

Miranda let the rock fall from her hand.

Turning away, David bent, lifted a handful of water and washed the blood from his face, then demanded of her, “What the hell are you doing out here?”

Her anger flared again. “I’m fine, thanks. Bleeding, but that’s always awesome.”

Faith’s voice interrupted.
“Um . . . Sire?”

“What?” he snapped.

“Where are you? I turned around and you were gone.”

“At the Haven,” he answered. “Get back here immediately. There’s been another security breach and there are two Elite down.”

“Yes, Sire.”

Miranda was aware, then, of the fact that she was soaked, and that her entire body hurt like it had been beaten. She sagged against the bank, heedless of the mud. “Where’s Terrence?” she asked.

“Dead,” was the terse reply.

He stripped off his coat and wrapped it around her, not that it did much good; but at least it kept the rain off her face. “How did you find me?” she asked.

“Terrence’s signal stopped, sending up an alarm. As soon as I heard it I began listening to the entire network. I intercepted the traitor’s transmission—he knew too much about us, but not as much as he thought, or he would never have spoken to you over the coms.” He scanned the bank, then looked at her. “Come here. I’ll have to carry you out.”

She wasn’t happy with his tone, but there was no time to argue; she was beginning to tremble from the chill, and she was bleeding in several places that were going to need attention. She stepped into his outstretched arm, and he lifted her up and held her to his chest, his other arm reaching overhead to grab a root that hung over the creek.