Twice Dead (3 page)

Bobby stared at me a heartbeat or two longer. Then his paw lashed out, fast and precise, disemboweling the hare.

The animal version of field dressing
—or an appetizer. A scream sounded in my head again, starting as the dead rabbit’s voice, then bleeding into a woman’s sobbing cry. I turned away, but it was too late.

Finding the beheaded body earlier tonight had been too much of a reminder of the rogues’ actions. Now, in my mind’s eye, I saw claws rip through flesh. The flesh was furless, pale, human, and very much alive. The woman’s scream redoubled in pain, and giddy amusement bubbled in me as I reached out to rip away more tender skin.

No, I won’t see this—won’t feel it. Not again.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but I couldn’t block out images playing
behind
my eyelids. Bobby’s feline call of concern grew distant; the first clue that I was running. My stride carried me effortlessly through the frozen forest, but I couldn’t distance myself from the memories haunting me.

And memories they were. They just weren’t mine.

I’d absorbed the memories when I’d tried to drain the rogue during our fight. My mind had touched his, had seen through his eyes, had felt the high that rushed through him when he killed. Now I had flashbacks that put me in a frontrow seat to the sense-surround biography of a sociopath. And those tainted thoughts I’d never be able to outrun.

Chapter Three

Running did little to clear my head, and I eventually forced myself to slow. Sticky blood seeped down the front of my costume from the hare’s deep scratch on my shoulder.
I
probably ruined the costume. At least I’ll never have to wear
it again.
Circling back to the cabin, I brushed the snow clinging to my bare feet on the welcome mat before stepping inside.

“Bobby? Nathanial? Anyone here?” I called as I pushed the front door closed behind me.

No one answered, but footfalls thudded in the hall—footfalls far too heavy to belong to a bobcat. I cringed as the double doors swung open and Nathanial’s Newfoundland trudged into the kitchen.

“Sit, Regan.”

The massive dog just cocked his head. He rounded the large table that monopolized the room, his black nose working as he approached. I pressed my back flat against the wall, my hand groping for the door knob.

“Regan, stay.” I peeled my free hand off the wall and tried to mimic the gesture Nathanial used to control the beast.

Regan didn’t pay attention.

He took another step forward. Phantom pain laced through my torso, tracing the path of old scars from an attack I’d barely survived as a child. The attack had been by a rogue wolf, not a dog, but dogs were still Canids, and close enough to wolves to make me uneasy.

The dog sniffed the air, his large muzzle lifting, and I shuffled sideways. Okay, maybe more than just “uneasy.”

Regan stopped, his floppy ears pricking like he heard something. Then his head swung to the door and his ears dropped, his hackles rising.

“Niiice doggy,” I whispered.

Regan’s lip rolled back in a silent growl, but he wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was fixed on the door. A loud
ding
dong
sliced through the air.

I jumped.
The doorbell?
I hadn’t even known Nathanial
had
a doorbell. And who would visit out here in the middle of nowhere?

The bell dinged again.

“Let us in, little one,” a deep female voice called, the words heavily accented by a throat clearly more accustomed to pronouncing a harsher Germanic language.

Oh, this evening kept getting better and better. I knew that voice. It belonged to the vampire council’s enforcer, Anaya. And I was willing to bet, even though I couldn’t hear him, that her companion Clive was with her. I’d only met the pair of enforcers once before, but they’d gleefully delivered me to what they had believed would be my final death. I didn’t foresee us becoming friends.

“You’ll have to come back later. Nathanial isn’t here.”

“Open the door.” This time the voice was clipped and masculine. Definitely Clive.

Regan apparently didn’t appreciate the vampire’s tone either, because his silent growl became increasingly less silent.

My fists clenched at the growl, my fangs descending.
He’s
not growling at you
, I reminded myself, repeating it like a mantra in my mind. The mantra didn’t help. A great, growling dog was between me and the door. He could have it.

I scuttled further away, sliding along the kitchen wall.

Regan fell silent, and if I hadn’t been listening so hard, I wouldn’t have heard the creak of the wooden stairs outside.

Anaya and Clive were leaving? Just like that?

Regan looked at me, his mouth falling open and his pink tongue lolling out one side. It was a happy expression, I
knew
it was, but I still shivered at the sight of all his big, white teeth.

“Uh, why don’t you stay here in the kitchen, and I’ll go somewhere else?” I asked the big dog.

He regarded me with shiny black eyes, and then plopped down on the tile.

I’ll take that as yes.

Pushing off the wall, I crept across the room, angling for the swinging doors in the opposite corner. Regan watched every halting step. I was a yard beyond him when a loud bang crashed against the door.

I leapt backward, slamming into the huge table. Regan also jumped to his feet, his hackles lifting, his long fur fluffing out like an excited porcupine.

“I think you lost something,” Anaya called through the door. She punctuated the statement with the sound of something hard hitting something meaty.

A pained grunt drifted through the door. I’d lost something that could be hurt?

Oh no.

Bobby.

Forgetting about the growling dog, I darted across the room and flung open the door. Anaya stood directly in front of the door, still dressed in the costume she must have been wearing at the party earlier—unless she normally dressed as an eighteenth century bar wench with a skirt far too short for the time period. Behind her, Clive was dressed as Napoleon—appropriate, given his height—but instead of hiding his right hand in his uniform, he gripped Bobby’s once again human wrists. Clive’s other hand curled in Bobby’s shoulder-length tawny hair, controlling Bobby’s head, pulling it back to expose his naked throat.

My knuckles turned white where I gripped the doorframe.

“Let go of him.”

“Let us in,” Anaya said. I stepped aside, waving my hand to include the open entrance. She shook her head. “You are forgetting. The words, child.”

Right, vampires had to be invited inside the first time they visited a residence.
Which means Nathanial has never let
them enter before.
My hesitation was miniscule, only long enough to consider that if I allowed them to enter Nathanial’s home, the invitation couldn’t be rescinded. Then Clive tilted Bobby’s head at a sharper angle. The short vampire bent forward, his fangs aimed at Bobby’s throat.

“Come in, damn it,” I said. “Come in.”

A happy-crocodile smile crawled over Anaya’s face. As she crossed the threshold, she held out her hand for her companion’s, who released Bobby. I slipped outside as the two enforcers surveyed the kitchen.

“You okay?” I whispered, reaching out to help Bobby to his feet.

He took my offered hand, but only as a gesture, putting no weight on me as he rose stiffly. He wore only his blue jeans, and those were not even fully zipped. No sign of his shirt or shoes.

He rotated his arms, stretching his shoulders, but he didn’t meet my eyes. “Sorry,” he finally said, rolling his neck. “They jumped me while I was redressing. I didn’t hear them coming. They’re more powerful than they look.”

“Wasn’t your fault.” I glanced inside. Regan had backed up all the way to the swinging doors, but that was as far as he seemed willing to retreat. “Well, the vampires are inside the house. I say we stay out here.”

I was joking—mostly—but Bobby frowned. Gooseflesh puckered along his wide shoulders and chest.
Damn, I keep
forgetting about the temperature
. Bobby must have been freezing, standing shirtless in the snow. Only a couple weeks as a vampire and I was already taking for granted the fact that blood, not ambient temperatures, affected my comfort level. But Bobby was a shifter, not a vampire, and shifters didn’t do well in human form in the cold.

Well, I have to face the enforcers some time.
I stepped inside, but I didn’t go far. Regan was still growling.

Anaya turned to me. “Call off your dog.”

“Uh, Regan, stop?”

The dog didn’t so much as pause.

Bobby snapped his fingers, pointing at the dog. “Down.”

Regan looked at him, then whining, lowered first his front half then his back half to the floor.

Oh, that was totally unfair.

With the dog no longer a threat, Anaya swept through the double doors leading to the rest of the house. Clive hung back. He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and keeping an eye on Bobby and me.

“Rather quaint, isn’t it?” He indicated the kitchen and its large birch table, bay window, and row of simple cabinets with a jut of his chin. His tone wasn’t complementary.

I didn’t bother answering, but rocked on my heels. My feet itched to move. I didn’t like being in close quarters with the enforcers, especially not without Nathanial present. But I wasn’t about to run for it and leave Bobby to them. That just wasn’t an option.

Anaya swept back through the door, her dark gaze driving into me. “Where is your Master?”

“Not here. I told you that.”

A muscle twitched over her temple, jerking the edge of her thick brow. “Where is the Hermit?” she asked, but with her accent, it sounded like she asked where ‘de Ermite’ was.

How many times did I have to repeat myself? “Not here. He went back to Death’s Angel.”

Her crimson nails slashed through the air, dismissing my statement. “We just came from there.”

I looked down and licked the corner of my mouth.

Nathanial was missing? Not good. Spreading my stance, I crossed my arms over my chest and met Anaya’s gaze again.

I didn’t care if I looked defensive. Hell, I
was
on the defensive.

“Nathanial dropped me off before heading back to Death’s Angel. If you didn’t see him, you must have crossed paths.”

Anaya and Clive exchanged a glance, mirrored expressions of annoyance making their lips hard. Clive pushed off the counter and swaggered up to the kitchen table. He dragged a chair over the tile, and held it for Anaya to sink into. Then he sat, propping his boots on Nathanial’s burnished table top.

“De Council—the Hermit not included, seeing as he was absent—demands your presence, little one.” A cruel smile crawled over Anaya’s face as she spoke. Nothing that made her smile like that would be healthy for me. I shivered, but she wasn’t finished yet. “They have questions. I suggest you supply answers.”

The pressure in the room changed, and another shiver tingled along my arms. Not a visceral response from Anaya’s threats, but…
Crap. Magic.

Not now.

Now was definitely a bad time. An almost inaudible
pop
whispered inside my ear, and Gil appeared behind the two enforcers.

I don’t know what the mage had been doing before she arrived, but she’d clearly miscalculated something because she appeared three feet from the ground. She hung in midair for less than a heartbeat. Then she hit the tile with a yelp.

The enforcers jumped at the sound, springing from their chairs with smooth malice. They circled Gil as she pushed off the ground, her cheeks flushed.

Clive grabbed her wrist. “Where did
you
come from?”

Gil’s eyes grew wider than the shiny brass buttons on her pink coat. “You’re… vampires?” She threw a desperate look at me.

What the hell was I supposed to do? I cleared my throat.

“Gil, please go back to the living room.”

Gil nodded, her black curls dancing vigorously around her head. She stumbled back, but Clive still held her wrist. He glanced at Anaya. Her shoulders were rolled back, her fists clenched as if anticipating an ambush, but she nodded. Clive released Gil’s wrist, and Gil darted from the room.
Thank the
moon,
If they hadn’t let her go, I had no idea what I’d have done. What I
could
do.

Anaya returned to the table, but her eyes were sharp as her dark gaze landed on me once more. Clive remained against the back counter, where I knew from experience he could see the entire room and both doors. Not that he could have possibly known Gil had honestly appeared out of nowhere. I was more than happy to let him think she’d simply snuck up on them.

Anaya’s teeth clicked, and I smiled despite the fear clawing my stomach. They were on my turf—well, Nathanial’s, at the very least, and he was a council member. He surely outranked a couple enforcers. Gil’s appearance had unbalanced them. Maybe I could work that to my advantage.

I dropped into the chair across from Anaya and placed my elbows on the table-top.

Anaya lifted an eyebrow, as if to say she couldn’t believe my gall, but she leaned back against her chair. “We also came to deliver a message to the Hermit. Since he is not here…”

I laced my fingers together and propped my chin on my hands without lowering my gaze. “I can pass it along.”

“No. I think we will report to the rest of the council. Clive.”

She stood, extending her hand. Clive, shorter than Anaya by at least a foot, scrambled over, taking his mistress’s hand.

She turned and studied me as if I were a bug she hadn’t thought would make such a mess when squashed. “When the Hermit returns, he will take you to the council. I would suggest you not delay. We go now.”

Clive flashed his fangs at me, then wrapped his arms around Anaya’s waist. “See you soon,” he said, but the menace in his tone made it clear I wouldn’t enjoy myself when I returned to Death’s Angel.