The Darkest Kiss (23 page)

“You need to kill her body.”

“That goes without saying, doesn’t it? I mean, killing a body stops most things.”

He raised his glass in salute of my point. “However, the bakeneko is
not
most things. She is now a creature of magic, and that magic not only gives her the ability to remold her form, but also provides extreme speed and power. She will not be an easy kill.”

Few bad things were. “Do we need to kill her any specific way?”

“Cutting off her head should work.” He took another sip of wine. “If the spirit is caught in dead flesh, it will leave this world and never return.”

“So the spirit itself is never actually killed?”

He shook his head. “But she cannot inhabit the flesh of another. With her body gone, she must move on.”

Well, at least that was something. I gulped down some coffee, discovering it was as delicious as the rest of the feast. “No souls have been present at the murder scene, and we have a witness who swears he saw the creature sucking at a victim’s mouth. I think she’s ingesting the souls—is that possible?”

“Very possible, especially if her attacks are escalating.” He took a sip of wine, then added, “Every soul she consumes strengthens her, but it also fuels her anger and madness. That’s another reason to be very careful.”

“Do bakenekos live on souls?” I shuddered at the thought.

“‘Live’ is perhaps the wrong word. They don’t need souls to survive, even if it does strengthen them. They simply enjoy the pain and the suffering of ripping a soul from its dying body.”

“So it’s all part of the ultimate vengeance?”

“Yes.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing we’re rounding up the remaining Trollops.” I popped a strawberry in my mouth and munched on it. “I have a list of fourteen names—would that be all of them?”

“I only know of fourteen, so yes, more than likely. I could check the list if you want.”

I smiled at his tone. “You really don’t like them, do you?”

“It would be more accurate to say that I don’t like the dishonesty of what they do.” He contemplated me for a moment, dark eyes suddenly serious. “You know my feelings about werewolves and their sexual beliefs, but at least werewolves are honest about their needs. There are never any lies or half-truths, and that I can admire.”

I sighed and put down my burger. The time had come for the discussion we’d both been avoiding. “You can’t change what I am, Quinn. Can’t change the
way
I am.”

He put his wine on the side table and sat up a little straighter. The sheet slipped down his stomach and pooled around the top of his thighs, revealing tantalizing glimpses of short, dark hair.

“I learned
that
particular lesson the hard way. And the months we have been apart were—” He hesitated, and looked at me. In the ebony depths was an echo of the bleak loneliness I’d seen earlier. “Hard.”

“It didn’t have to be that way, you know.”

He gave me a lopsided smile that had my heart doing odd little flip-flops. “I know. But as you’ve noted on a number of occasions, I am a very old vampire who likes to get his way.”

“Trying to change the very essence of what I am was way out of line.”

“I know, and I have had more than enough time alone to regret it, believe me.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I did what I thought was best for us. I wanted a chance, Riley, and you didn’t seem to be giving me one.”

“I was giving you as many chances as Kellen. I saw him no more than you. You were the one playing games. You were the one who kept on pushing and pushing and pushing.”

“And you were the one who refused to consider that a soul mate might be anything other than a werewolf,” he snapped back, the slightest touch of anger in his voice.

There was nothing I could say to that, because the accusation was true. Finding my wolf soul mate was a dream I’d lived for for as long as I could remember, and it wasn’t one that I could give up easily—even now, when much of that dream had already been shattered to dust and blown away by fate.

He sighed, and it was a sound of frustration. “I can’t let it end here, Riley. There’s just too much that’s good between us.”

I picked up my coffee, cradling it between my hands and letting it warm my fingers. “Do you remember Dia?”

He frowned. “The clone? The one whose baby we rescued?”

“Yes. She once asked me a very interesting question.”

A dark eyebrow arched. “And what might that have been?”

I took a sip of coffee, then said, “She once asked if a being with two souls can have just the one soul mate.”

Understanding, and perhaps just the slightest hint of joy, flitted through the ebony depths. “Did you ever come up with an answer?”

“No.” I gave him a lopsided smile. “And given the shit fate has been throwing my way of late, I’m not entirely sure I’ll
ever
uncover the answer. But the point she was trying to make is the same one you’ve been making—I’m not just a wolf. I’m part vampire, as well. It’s entirely possible that the two halves of my soul have different expectations and different needs.”

“Entirely possible,” he agreed, his voice solemn but a delicious mix of desire and relief burning in his dark eyes. “And any other—shall we say, less cultured—vampire would be tempted to say ‘I told you so’ here.”

I laughed and threw a strawberry at him. He ducked out of its way, and the strawberry hit the lamp on the bedside table beside him and bounced off into the middle of the room.

I uncrossed my feet and rose to retrieve it. There was no point in wasting a perfectly edible strawberry, after all. “I still believe I have a wolf soul mate out there somewhere, Quinn, so it won’t ever be just you and me.”

“But will you continue to be the free and easy wolf that I first met months and months ago?”

I padded across the carpet, my toes getting lost in the thick fibers. “Hey, you fell for that werewolf, so she can’t have been too bad.”

“She wasn’t. And she still isn’t. But I’ve always desired more than being just another number on speed dial.”

I snorted softly. “You were never on speed dial.”

“Well,
that
makes the situation even worse.” His voice was dry, but amusement lingered near his lips. “As I keep saying, what we have deserves more than that.”

I bit into the strawberry, catching the bits of chocolate that flaked off with my free hand. “I think we need to go back to the very beginning and start again. I think we need to date, and learn to be friends, before we decide on anything else.”

“And forgo sex? After the sex we just had? Are you crazy?”

I laughed. “I am not suggesting we forgo sex. I’m just suggesting we include all the other regular relationship stuff, as well. We’ve never really had that, you know.”

He sobered. “And a good part of that was my fault.”

“Yep,” I agreed, then laughingly ducked the pillow he threw at me. “Hey, at least I never said it was all your fault. I’ve come that far.”

“I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies.”

“You should,” I said in a haughty tone, then laughed softly. “I don’t care who was to blame, Quinn. I just want to start all over again—and this time, I want to try and make it right. Or as right as you and I could ever be.”

“And hearing
that
makes my old heart want to dance with joy.”

I snorted softly and walked back to my side of the bed to grab my coffee. But as I did so, pain hit—pain so deep it felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest. The world was suddenly spinning, turning, falling, and I couldn’t think and couldn’t breathe. There was only pain, mind-numbing pain.

Only it wasn’t mine.

It was Rhoan’s.

Chapter 9

I
hit the floor hard and lay there for several seconds, my breathing panicked and my heart beating a million miles a minute.

Something had to be terribly wrong with Rhoan for me to be getting this sort of reaction. And yet it didn’t feel like he was in danger. Didn’t feel like he was hurt in any way.

“Riley?” Quinn was suddenly next to me, his hands gliding over me, looking for wounds or hurt when there wasn’t any. “Riley, what’s wrong?”

“Rhoan,” I gasped, somehow pushing to my hands and knees. The dizziness hit again and fear flooded me. God, what was going on? “Something has happened to him.”

Quinn grabbed my waist and hauled me upright. “Can you get dressed? Where’s your phone?”

“Yes, I can, and in my bag.”

He spun and walked into the living room. I staggered to the bathroom and hurriedly put on my clothes. The world spun again and I grabbed the corner of the shower to keep upright. When it eased, I found my shoes then ran out to the living room.

Quinn was on my phone. “There’s no answer from Rhoan, either at the apartment or on his cell phone.”

“He wasn’t at home. He was at Liander’s—” I stopped, and horror ran through me. Oh
God
, had something happened to Liander?

Please, don’t let it be Liander.

I grabbed the phone from Quinn and quickly dialed Liander’s number. There was no answer and the answering machine didn’t come on. And he always—
always
—turned that on when he went out.

“We need to get to Liander’s.”

“I’ll get my pants and my keys—”

“I’ll drive—”

“You can’t,” he said, almost savagely, from the other room. Not anger
at
me, but anger
for
me. “Not when you’re getting input from whatever it is Rhoan is going through. You’ll be putting your life—and others—at risk.”

Keys rattled as he grabbed them, and then he was beside me again, wearing pants and carrying a jacket, but no shirt. He cupped his hand under my elbow as we walked toward the elevator. As the doors swished closed, I rang the Directorate.

Sal answered. “What now, wolf girl?”

“I need Rhoan’s location immediately.”

“Hang on.” Keys tapped in the background, and the computer beeped. “He’s on the move, heading down Epson Road.”

“What’s the nearest cross street?”

“He’s just turned into Bangalore Road.”

Heading for Liander’s house, not his workshop and loft. “Tell Jack something has happened to Liander. Tell him Rhoan might need restraining.”

“Will do.” She hesitated. “You heading there now?”

“Yes.”

“Be careful, wolf girl.”

“He’s my pack-mate,” I said, and hung up.

The elevator reached the parking area and the doors swung open. Quinn grabbed my arm again, and together we raced toward his Porsche.

“Where’s Liander’s place?” he said, spinning the back wheels as he took off fast.

“Kensington. Enter from Epson Road.”

He nodded and the car’s speed increased. Lights and buildings zipped by, but I didn’t really see any of them. I was too busy worrying.

“Any idea what the problem is?” Quinn asked, after a few minutes.

“Maybe, but I’m hoping to God I’m wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ve got a serial killer on the loose, and Liander might just be one of his targets.”

“Again, why?”

I glanced at him. His answers were short and sharp, his concentration on the road and the few cars that were on the road at this hour.

“Because our killer seems to be going after people who once shared a school year with him. We have no real idea why, other than the fact that the killer disappeared after an altercation with some of the kids in that year.”

“And Liander was one of those kids?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t have anything to do with the killer or the kids who apparently did him in.”

“So the killer is a vampire now?”

I hesitated. “Well, he smells like a vampire, but he’s invisible in the daytime and able to walk around in sunlight without harm. And I think he was some sort of shifter before he was turned.”

“No vampire is that immune to sunlight—even the very old ones.”

“Well, he’s not very old, but I chased him out into the street and the bastard didn’t burn.”

“Then he’s not a vampire.”

“What is he, then?”

“He could be a dozen different things.” He hesitated. “The fact that he becomes ghostlike in the daylight makes me lean toward a bhuta.”

“A what?”

“It’s a type of vampire that can come about after someone suffers a violent death. They supposedly don’t live on blood, but rather intestines and excrement, and they have no physical body in daylight. Only at night.”

That description certainly fit what I knew of Young. “They may have no physical body, but they can still pick up things and use them as a weapon in daylight.”

He glanced at me. “You’ve already had an altercation with it?”

“Yeah, it jumped me. I wasn’t expecting an invisible vampire.” I glanced at the window, noting the location and knowing we were almost there. The knowledge didn’t do anything to ease the tension in me. It only increased it. “Do these bhuta die like regular vampires?”

“Only if you catch them at night. They’re impossible to kill during the day.”

Great. Just great. “God, I hope something hasn’t happened to Liander.”

Quinn took one hand from the wheel and reached across to squeeze my knee. His hands were warm against my skin, his touch comforting—even if it didn’t ease the sick fear sitting like a lump in my stomach.

“Liander’s ex-military. He can fight. He’ll be okay.”

I licked my lips and looked away from the caring in his eyes. Not because I didn’t want to see it, but because I was trying to be strong and any sort of understanding and caring right now just might make me cry.

“I’m a guardian,” I said softly, “and this thing almost whipped my ass.”

“Because you weren’t expecting it—”

“Liander mightn’t be, either.” My one hope was the fact that I
did
warn him to be careful.
Please, please, have been careful, Liander.

Quinn swung into Bangalore Road so fast the tires squealed and the smell of burned rubber briefly invaded the car.

“Be careful of the speed bumps,” I said, just a second too late. The car went flying across the first one and came crashing down on its nose.

“Thanks for the warning.” Quinn’s voice was dry, but he didn’t ease the speed perceptibly until we reached the next bump.

God, we were close, so close…part of me wanted to get out and run, to just get there and know. My stomach was tying itself up into knots and sweat was beginning to trickle down my spine. I didn’t think I’d ever been this afraid of anything else in my life.

We rounded the corner and Liander’s street came into view. “Park over there.” I pointed to the parking bays on the right of the road as my gaze traveled down the line of cars there.

Rhoan was already here, and he’d left the car in such a hurry the driver’s door was still open and the keys were in the ignition.

Oh God, oh God…

Quinn pulled in to one of the free parking spots. The car had barely stopped when I scrambled out and ran, the sound of my shoe heels hitting the road surface echoing across the silence of the still-sleeping night.

There were no lights on in Liander’s three-story terrace house, nothing to indicate there was anything wrong. The front door was open, though—and while it wasn’t busted down or damaged in any way, that wasn’t a good sign. Liander was too security conscious to leave it like that. And I doubted Rhoan would have left it open. If the door
had
been closed when he’d gotten here, he probably would have busted it down in his anxiety to see what the problem was.

I would have if the situation had been reversed.

I ran through the gate and up the steps. Quinn was a warm, dark presence behind me, but as I ran through the doorway, he stopped.

I twisted around to look at him. He grimaced. “Liander’s never invited me in, so I can’t cross the threshold,” he said. “But go find your brother. I’m here if you need anything.”

“How would the bhuta have crossed it? I sure as hell can’t imagine Liander inviting him in.”

“He didn’t need to. Bhutas don’t operate under the restrictions that hamper most vampires.”

“More fucking wonderful news.” I spun and continued on into the darkness.

There was no sound in the house. The scent of roast lamb and spicy vegetables lingered on the air—evidence of the dinner Liander had planned. His scent, soft and masculine, filled the house. Rhoan’s warm spices and leather scent was absent, but I could feel the heat of his presence. He was upstairs.

I grabbed the handrail and began to climb. My footsteps made little sound against the thick carpet, but it wouldn’t matter. Rhoan would know I was here, the same way I knew he was here.

I reached the first floor—the one that held the bedroom. The silence seemed to get thicker, and while the air still held the rich scent of cooking and Liander, something else began to invade it.

Fear.

Blood.

Energy caressed my mind, a tingling of warmth that stirred the fibers of my soul, intimate in a way that went beyond touch, beyond sex. Quinn, pushing lightly at my shields, wanting to talk to me, wanting me to open the psi-door we’d developed as a means of communication.

I dropped several layers of shields and said,
Nothing yet. Rhoan’s on the top floor, but I have no idea where Liander is.
I hesitated, then added,
I can smell blood.

So can I. There’s not a lot of it, though, so that is at least one good thing. But there is only one heartbeat on the top floor. If Rhoan is up there, then it has to be his.

Then where the hell is Liander?

I don’t know. Just be careful. The anger I can feel is fearsome.

He’s my brother, Quinn. He’s not going to hurt me.

Being blood kin doesn’t always protect you. Not when there’s this level of fear involved.

I licked my lips and climbed to the next floor. This one was basically one huge open area that Liander used for an office area, and it was wrapped in darkness just like the lower floors.

And while there was no sound, the smell of anger and fear thickened, and it was all twined up in Rhoan’s leathery scent.

“Rhoan?” I said softly, pausing briefly on the top step and looking around.

“He’s gone. We had an argument, and now he’s gone.”

The voice that rose out of the darkness was a frail shadow of its normal self. Fear lashed at me, thicker and stronger than before.

“What do you mean by gone?” I stepped into the room, then stopped. Moonlight filtered in through the windows at either end of the large room, lending enough brightness to highlight the smashed furniture, scattered paperwork, and the blood splattered across the wall.

Oh God, oh God…

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Liander couldn’t be dead. Rhoan wouldn’t be talking if he were. The shock of a soul mate’s death often left the living partner in a catatonic state—something that Ben had basically confirmed when he talked about the death of his mate.

I took another few steps forward, and finally saw Rhoan. He was kneeling near what used to be Liander’s main desk, though now it was little more than splintered remains. Evidence to the fact that he really
had
put up a major fight. But he was fighting something far stronger, far faster, than him. Something that didn’t even operate under the normal rules governing vampires.

He’d lost, but he wasn’t dead. That was something to hold on to, something to work with, at least.

I walked closer, and saw that Rhoan was hugging something to his chest. Something that was white, but stained dark in patches. Patches that smelled a whole lot like blood.

No, no, no,
I thought, and took a deep shuddery breath to calm the ever-rising fear.

“Rhoan,” I said. “He’s not dead. We need to get out there and find him.”

He finally looked at me. His gray eyes were wide and shocked, filled with a pain that went soul-deep. “He’s hurt. He’s dying.”

“But he’s not
dead.
” I forced a sharpness into my voice. I needed to get past the shock, the hurt, and the guilt; needed to goad him into action. “Liander wouldn’t be sitting there hugging a bloodied shirt if the situation were reversed. You’re the fucking guardian. Start acting like it!”