Falling Blind: The Sentinel Wars Page 15

  “The demons will come to chow down. Got it.” She tucked her gun in her purse. “What’s a Gerai house?”

  “Blooded humans—those who are descendants of an ancient, magical race—sometimes agree to help us Sentinels. One of the things they do is keep homes stocked with food and supplies and ensure that we have places to go when we need to rest or heal.”

  “Like safe houses.”

  “Exactly.”

  She was quiet for a moment, and it took Cain a healthy dose of willpower to keep from reaching through the link the luceria created in order to see what it was she was thinking. Eventually, she might welcome him into her head, but Rory wasn’t the most trusting woman he’d ever met. And she was armed.

  “You know, if you would have told me last night that I’d be going on a rescue mission with a sword-wielding warrior to save a vampire, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

  “And now?”

  “Completely plausible. How crazy is that?”

  “Another day on the job for me.” For us, he wanted to say, but held his tongue. She’d made it clear where her boundaries were, and Hope’s warning was not lost on him. Push her and she’ll push back. Hard.

  He didn’t want that. In fact, what he wanted was to be right back where they’d been a little while ago, with her hands on his chest and her lips close enough to touch. If she’d so much as glance down at the time, she would have seen just how much she affected him—how the mere idea of her lips on his skin made him rock hard.

  But she hadn’t looked down, and she was taking their rescue mission, as she called it, in stride.

  Rory was certainly an adaptable creature. She rolled with the punches, which was something he was sure would serve her well in the days ahead. Maybe sooner.

  Her body tightened up, and he could feel a spurt of frustration trickling through the luceria. That feeling had come from her, but Cain absorbed it and let it become part of him, marveling at how their connection was growing so fast so soon. “What’s wrong?”

  She shifted in her seat and smoothed her pink hair behind her ears. “Just a bit of mental channel surfing. Nothing to worry about.”

  “We’re not near any populated areas.” In fact, they were even farther out than her house was, even more isolated. There was no traffic around—no one in sight.

  “Yeah. Normally it’s not a problem. Too bad normal isn’t on the menu lately.” Her voice was clipped with irritation, but that didn’t bother him nearly as much as the small tremor of fear he felt seeping out of her.

  “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.”

  “I’m probably just tired. I kinda missed getting any sleep last night.”

  Her need hit him hard as he realized he had been neglecting his duty to see to her health. Not that he could simply order her to bed like a child. She’d be as likely to shoot him as she would be to obey a command of his, no matter how much she agreed with it. She was the most contrary woman he’d ever met, and yet that made her only that much more interesting to him.

  So rather than risk a bullet, he kept his mouth shut about her needing to take a nap. Later, when the danger to Ronan was over, then he’d see that she rested. There were several ways he could wear her out, some of them more enticing than others.

  “It’s more than that,” he said, keeping his lust clear of his voice. “You’re afraid.”

  Her spine went rigid, and her tone dripped with indignation. “We are going to meet a vampire. Most sane people would be a little apprehensive about that, don’t you think?”

  He cast a quick glance in her direction. Her skin was pale, and he could see a fine trembling in her fingers as they toyed with the strap of her purse. No matter how indignant she sounded, she couldn’t fool him. “The visions are getting worse, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered, as if saying it too loud would make the situation worse. “I had a couple at home, too. That has never happened before—at least not with my neighbors. They’re too far away. Or they were.”

  But no longer. “Try to stay calm, okay? Whatever is going on is probably just a temporary problem caused by you taking my luceria. You could be inadvertently using my power to amplify your ability.”

  Sarcasm sharpened her tone. “Right. ’Cause I know so much about all this magical bullshit. I wouldn’t even know where to start using your power to amplify anything.”

  “You know more than you think. Otherwise, how would you have known to take my luceria? I didn’t even tell you it was possible. You simply knew.”

  “That was different. I saw it and wanted it. It was a selfish, impulsive thing to do, and look where it got me.”

  Cain covered her hand with his, wishing he knew how to ease her frustration. He hadn’t been around a lot of people in the last few centuries. Most of his time had been spent with Sibyl, and Rory was nothing like Sibyl. Rory was fiercer, more independent. He wasn’t sure what to say to make her feel better, no matter how loudly the need to ease her clamored inside of him.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he told her, wincing at the lame inadequacy of his words.

  She went still beneath his hand. Even her trembling quieted. “How do you do that?”

  “What?”

  “Whenever you touch me, the visions go away.”

  “It’s not something I’m doing purposefully.”

  Her pink head fell back against the seat in frustration. “I don’t suppose you’ve got some magical, vision-blocking ring stashed somewhere, do you?”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I’ll survive. I always do.”

  There was something more to her words than what lay on the surface. Cain could feel a jagged vibration of fear buzzing through their link. With it came a chaotic flurry of images of dark water and terror. They were gone before he could blink, but the greasy remnants of her fear remained.

  He wanted to delve deeper and seek out the source of that fear, but didn’t dare distract himself like that while driving.

  “Did something happen to you?” he asked. His voice was rougher than he’d intended, more forceful.

  “Lots of things have happened to me. That’s life.” She turned away from him to stare out the side window. Her fingers slipped out from under his hand, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “How close are we?”

  The distance she’d shoved between them echoed with a hollow chill. Cain felt it all the way to his bones until he was aching with the need to feel her warmth again.

  If it hadn’t been for her very loud body language and the neon KEEP OUT sign it painted, he might have reached for her again. But as it stood, all he could think to offer her was the small amount of privacy the cab of his truck could allow.

  The last two miles of their trip seemed to take forever. He wanted to touch her thoughts and search for a way to make her relax, but he didn’t dare—not when he was behind the wheel and so new to their partnership. The kind of concentration he’d need to make contact was more than he could spare. And even if he had, it would have felt like a violation—an encroachment on her wishes to be alone.

  So Cain let it drop, feeling useless and restless. By the time he pulled up into the driveway of the Gerai house, all he could think about was getting this chore done and finding a nice, quiet place to sit her down and work through some things. Or perhaps lay her down. That had its own lovely set of possibilities as well.

  There was no way to know how long their partnership would last. And even if it was only for a few days, they needed some ground rules. Namely, she needed to stop shutting him out. If he didn’t know what was going on, he couldn’t help her.

  Then again, if her quest to find the person who stopped her visions failed, then she’d be tied to Cain indefinitely. He could spend the rest of his life touching her as often as possible, driving away her visions. She would need him. He would once again have purpose. And Rory.

  Before that thought began to grow and fill his mind, he crushed it, refusing to even ente
rtain the idea of sabotaging her wishes like that. She wanted a cure. Freedom. Forcing himself into her life, making her need him, was only going to grate against her independence. That was not the kind of man he was—or at least not the kind of man he wanted to be.

  And if he was that kind of man, he didn’t deserve Rory.

  With his path firmly in mind, he got out of his truck just as the last sliver of the sun was visible above the horizon. Rory was a few steps in front of him, and he saw her falter as she neared.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing new. There’s definitely someone in there. There are spots of blood on his pillow.”

  Cain sped up, anxious to have that blood burned away before full dark fell. Synestryn would be drawn to the scent of it, and with Rory here, he didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks.

  He found Ronan on a cot in the unfinished basement. The small, high windows had been blacked out with thick layers of paint. Several utilitarian shelves lined the walls, stocked with clothing and canned goods. A washer and dryer sat in one corner, next to a small bathroom. The cement floors gave off a damp chill.

  Ronan hardly twitched as Cain hurried down the wooden steps. His gaunt frame lay in listless stillness as Cain approached. Only Ronan’s eyes moved, tracking Cain as he came closer.

  Rory was behind him, hovering at the top of the stairway. He could feel a little tickle of curiosity coming from her, along with a healthy dose of caution.

  “Can you please start a fire?” he asked her. He wasn’t keen on letting her watch what was about to happen. Chances were Ronan wasn’t going to like an audience, either.

  “Sure. No problem.”

  Ronan’s eyes glowed with pale blue light. His lips peeled back from his teeth in hunger. Skin sagged on his frame, and traces of blood left dark patches on his deathly white face.

  Cain stripped out of his jacket as he came near. The look in Ronan’s eyes was not one of calm intellect. There was only instinct there—a quivering, animalistic hunger that Cain had seen before. Ronan was nearly dead, famished, and that made him dangerous.

  “I’m here to feed you,” said Cain. He extended his left arm, keeping his right hand on the hilt of his sword.

  In a move too fast for Cain to track, Ronan grabbed his wrist and jerked it to his mouth. Sharp teeth split Cain’s skin, and a heavy, ravenous gulping sound echoed in the space. After a couple of minutes, he felt his body begin to weaken. A dizzy lethargy spun in his head, and his legs felt too heavy.

  “Stop,” he said. “You’ve taken enough.”

  Ronan didn’t stop. Cain pulled on his arm, but Ronan held on tight, his strength fueled by Cain’s powerful blood.

  He tugged hard, eliciting a growl of warning from Ronan.

  A moment later, Cain was on the floor, though he couldn’t remember how he got there. His need to sleep was nearly overpowering—a compulsion from Ronan, no doubt—and Rory was upstairs, unprotected. With the blood Ronan had spilled, it was only a matter of time before they had company of the Synestryn kind. And if he passed out, there wasn’t a thing he could do to protect Rory from the demons.

  Or from Ronan.

  * * *

  Raygh felt the moment his prey slipped the noose. The Sanguinar tethered to him had fed, giving him the strength he needed to shove a wall between them.

  Not that it mattered. Raygh already knew where the Sanguinar was. He couldn’t hide now—not from the minions Raygh had crawling all over the countryside.

  Another swarm was nearby, waiting for the last rays of daylight to fade before they moved. One of them had the blood of one of those he sought, and as soon as it came home, another of his prey would be within his grasp. This one a woman.

  Raygh had something special in store for her—something that made him squirm with anticipation.

  He reached out for those under his control who were near the lost Sanguinar. Most of the lesser demons were still asleep, but a few were awake and ready to do his bidding. As soon as he touched the searing, alien minds of his Handlers, he gave them instructions for tonight’s work. The Sanguinar was close. They would have no trouble rooting him out and bringing him back to face the punishment he deserved.

  He’d been present at the death of at least one of Raygh’s sons. For that, he was going to suffer.

  * * *

  The second Rory saw through the vampire’s eyes, she knew that Cain was in trouble. His body was crumpled on the floor, his thick arm reaching all the way back to the vampire’s mouth.

  Cain didn’t look good. He was too pale, and there was a drooping kind of fatigue hanging over him, as if he were too weak to sit up straight.

  That wasn’t like him at all. He normally radiated strength, which meant that whatever was going on down there wasn’t normal.

  She raced down the steps and saw the vampire hunched over Cain’s arm. His sword was out, but it hung loose in his grip, as if it were too heavy to lift.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

  The vampire looked up at her then. His pale blue eyes flared wide with excitement, and a watery light brightened his gaze. As she watched, his throat moved as he drank more of Cain’s blood.

  Shock, disgust and fear all rose up into a tangled knot that lodged in her throat. She tried to tell him that he was killing Cain, but she couldn’t seem to shove the words out. But she had to do something. Fast.

  Rory had always struggled with impulsiveness. Her Nana had told her over and over that it was going to get her hurt one of these days.

  Well, apparently that day had arrived.

  She charged the vampire, her fists balled up tight. She wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen until her knuckles connected with the side of his pretty head. She landed a solid blow on his temple that was hard enough to knock his mouth away from Cain’s arm. Blood seeped from the wounds.

  The vampire rose to his feet, anger and hunger making the gaunt angles of his face stand out in stark detail.

  Rory shoved him back away from Cain and lifted her fists. “Want to go another round, pretty boy?”

  He stared at her in shock for a moment. A frown creased his brow, and he gave his head a little shake. Suddenly, the pale blue light in his eyes winked out and he lifted his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I lost my head there for a moment.”

  He moved toward Cain, but Rory shifted to block his path. “Stay back.”

  “I need to heal his wounds and restore some of what I took from him.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so. You’ve done enough.”

  “It’s okay, Rory,” said Cain from behind her. “Ronan is himself again.”

  “Who the fuck was he a minute ago, then? ’Cause I’d like to kick that asshole in the junk.”

  “You have every reason to be suspicious, but I assure you that I’m no longer out of control. I also promise that if we don’t get all this blood cleaned up, demons will find us soon.”

  There was that.

  Cain pushed himself to his feet. The look he gave Rory was a combination of pride and humiliation. “Thank you for stepping in.”

  “Yes,” said Ronan. “I’m sorry you had to interfere, but I’m glad you were here to do so.”

  “So what the hell was that all about?” she asked.

  “I was hungry. Cain fed me.”

  Blood. The word went unspoken, but it hovered there, in the cool, damp air, painfully obvious.

  “Is the fire going?” asked Cain. He still looked pale and shaky, but at least he was on his feet, which was a big improvement.

  “Yeah. Someone had already laid in the logs and stuff. I just had to light the kindling.”

  “Good. We need to burn away all traces of blood.” Cain started to strip the bloody pillowcase from the pillow, but Rory stopped him.

  “I’ll do that,” she said, taking the pillow away from Cain. “You sit down before you fall over, and put some pressure on your wrist.” She pointed her finger at Ronan. “And you keep your teeth t
o yourself.”

  He was way too pretty to be trusted. In fact, he reminded her of Logan, with his perfect features and his sleek, streamlined muscles. His dark hair fell over his forehead, and there was a bit of stubble riding his jaw—just enough to accentuate the perfect little indent in his chin.

  Ronan’s gaze lingered at her throat for a minute, and she saw what he saw flash in her mind, complete with the pretty, pulsing, shimmering band around her neck. It was darker than it had been before, with more purple than pink running through it.

  “Don’t even think about her blood,” rumbled Cain in warning. “She’s off-limits.”

  “Of course,” said Ronan, but his tone made it sound more like the answer to a challenge than acceptance. “May I see to your wrist?”

  Cain held his arm up, but he wasn’t looking at Ronan. His gaze was fixed on Rory, making her squirm. There was something different in his expression now—a kind of new awareness, as if he were seeing her in a different light.

  Ronan pressed his fingers against the teeth marks in Cain’s wrist, and a second later, his skin was whole again, with only a few smears of blood to prove anything had ever happened.

  “Wow. That’s handy,” said Rory.

  “My debt is paid now,” said Cain. “Tell Logan that the next time you talk to him.”

  Ronan gave Cain a formal little bow of his head. “Of course. And thank you for coming.”

  “We’re not out of the woods yet. You still have blood on your face. We need the place cleansed of all scents. Rory is new to her power, and I won’t put her at risk.”

  “You know, the way you guys talk about me like I’m not here is irritating as hell.” She grabbed the bloody fabric and marched upstairs to burn it. When she turned around, Cain was standing there, a bloody washcloth in his hand.

  He added it to the flames, and she could see that his hand was shaking. “I’m sorry about that—about talking past you, about making you see Ronan lose control.”

  “Why aren’t you more freaked out by it?”

  Cain lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “We’re all weak sometimes. Ronan can’t help what he is any more than I can. I know what it’s like to feel out of control. Rubbing his nose in his mistake will only make his life harder. And I assure you, it’s hard enough.”