Blood Hunt (Sentinel Wars Book 5) Page 8

  Fear vanished from her features and was replaced with indignation. “Hardly. Get over yourself.”

  “Would you like to stand out here in the cold and continue to talk, or would you rather find your friend?”

  “Rory. Her name is Rory.”

  He nodded his acknowledgment. “Tell me about her. Where did you last see her?”

  “At the convenience store on the corner. I tried to get her to come sleep at the shelter where I work and she refused. As always. She said she’d rather sleep here, in this building, where there were no prying eyes.”

  “Was she paranoid?”

  “Maybe. Would it matter to you if she was crazy?”

  “There’s a woman I know named Nika. Everyone thought she was crazy, too. As it turned out, she simply saw things the rest of us could not. Since then, I’ve become more conservative in making judgment calls about such things.”

  Hope’s body went still. “What kinds of things did she see?”

  “Why? Do you see things? Did your friend?”

  “No,” she answered too quickly. “I just mean you hear stories about people seeing odd things. You know. Ghosts. Vampires.”

  She was baiting him. Logan refused to take it. “As far as I know, such things do not exist. Though there are other things that do. Far worse things.”

  “Like what?”

  “I could spend a week of nights listing the nightmares that lurk in the dark. I fear, however, we do not have that kind of time. Rory is still lost.”

  Hope nodded. “Right. You’re right. We need to focus. Ghost stories will wait.”

  “What was your plan for locating her?”

  “I was looking for a way inside. This is the only place where I know she stayed that I haven’t searched.”

  “Have you notified the human police?”

  She frowned. “Is there any other kind?”

  He realized his mistake too late. “I only mean the ones who care. The good cops.”

  “No. That’s not what you meant. I don’t want to slow us down, but I’ll have you know I’m making a list of questions.”

  Good. That meant she was planning to be with him long enough to ask questions. “As you please.”

  “The answer is yes, I did report her missing. The police did what they could, which wasn’t much. Which is why I’m out here, trying to break into private property.”

  “Allow me,” he said, heading back to the boarded-up overhead door.

  As strong as he was now, thanks to Hope’s blood, all he had to do was shove his foot against the wood. The force of his kick ripped the screws holding the wood loose, sending the board clattering onto the concrete floor inside.

  “How did you . . . ?”

  “I work out,” he lied.

  While she was still staring in shock, Logan stepped through the opening. He channeled power to his senses, gathering information and seeking out threats. The poisonous Synestryn that had nearly killed him last night had chosen this place for a reason. For all he knew, there might be more demons lurking inside.

  Chapter 7

  The only reason Tori had not yet slit her own wrists was the promise of revenge. It burned inside her, churning and roiling in her belly until she couldn’t think of anything else.

  The Synestryn lord Zillah was going to die. She wasn’t sure how yet, but every one of the hundreds of painful possibilities was appealing in its own way.

  He’d stolen her when she was little. Caged her. Fed her his blood. Raped her. Forced her to bear his spawn—all dead. Like his soul.

  It didn’t matter how many times she tortured him or killed him, it would never be enough. Her hunger for his agony would never be sated. Her thirst for his suffering never quenched.

  She could feel his presence burning in her blood. His blood.

  Beneath her pale skin, she could see the black of his essence pulsing inside her. The healers here had tried to get rid of it, but it had only made them sick.

  She made them sick.

  The door to her room opened and panic ripped through her. She held her breath, peering out from under the bed where she lay. Big, booted feet crossed the carpet.

  “Tori?”

  Andra’s voice. Her sister.

  “What?”

  “I brought you something. Can you come out?”

  Andra wouldn’t go away until she’d given her whatever it was. It was faster to let her do what she wanted and get it over with.

  Tori wriggled out from under the far side of the bed. She stood, pressing herself into the corner.

  Light from the hall spilled inside, burning Tori’s eyes. After so many years of living in blackness, light burned. Especially sunlight.

  For so many years, she’d dreamt of seeing the sun again, and now it brought only pain.

  That was one more sin Zillah had to pay for.

  “You don’t have to sleep under there, baby,” said Andra, her voice soft, like she was talking to a child.

  She was shielding something on a tray with her hand. A searing glow poured over Andra’s face and body.

  Tori closed her eyes. “This room is too big.” It loomed around her, like the open jaws of a giant monster. One wrong move and those jaws would clamp shut, trapping her inside.

  “We’ll figure something out. So you’re more comfortable.”

  “Why are you here?” asked Tori, hoping her sister would hurry up and leave.

  “I brought you something.”

  Andra moved her hand and the flare of fire stabbed Tori’s eyes. She hissed in pain, falling to a crouch to cover her head so she wouldn’t get burned.

  There was a sound of heavy breathing, then the smell of smoke. Her sister’s voice was filled with guilt. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Tori didn’t answer. There was nothing she could say to make it better. For either of them.

  “I knew you wouldn’t want a bunch of people around, but I wanted to do something.”

  Now that the fire was gone, Tori looked up. Andra held something Tori recognized but could not name. It was sweet. She remembered that much. Mom used to make them in the dreams she had before the caves.

  Andra offered it. The tiny, pink torch stuck out from the top, sending a tendril of smoke into the air between them. “It’s a cupcake.”

  Cupcake. Yes. That was the word.

  Tori took it. Her fingers sank into it until she lightened her grip. The sweet smell of it turned her stomach, but she hid that from her sister. She thought it might hurt Andra’s feelings.

  “You don’t have to eat it now if you don’t want to. I just wanted to do something,” said Andra.

  “Why?”

  Her sister reached out to touch her, but Tori flinched away. She couldn’t stop herself.

  Andra’s hand fell to her side and sadness covered her. Even her hair looked sad. “Today is your birthday, baby. Don’t you remember? You’re eighteen.”

  Shock stilled Tori’s heart for a moment. That had to be wrong. She had been in those caves forever. Not just ten years.

  Andra let out a sad sigh and rose to her feet. “Is there anything I can do? Anything I can get you?”

  “No,” said Tori automatically. She didn’t like it when people were around. It was easier to think when she was alone under the bed. Safe.

  Andra nodded. As she left the room, she said, “Happy birthday, Tori,” then shut the door.

  Tori stared at the cupcake for a long time. She opened the bottom drawer of the little cabinet beside her bed and set the cupcake inside. She might need it later, if she got hungry, and she didn’t want anyone to see it and take it away.

  It was her cupcake. She’d kill anyone who tried to take it.

  Andra managed to shut the door before the tears started to fall. Her baby sister was home, but she wasn’t okay. Whatever the Synestryn had done to her had destroyed her. Their blood still flowed in her veins.

  Tynan said she was dangerous. To others as well as herself. He want
ed to put her in a magically prolonged sleep until they could figure out how to filter her blood.

  If they could figure out how. So far, everyone had failed.

  Maybe he was right. Andra had hoped that with time and love, Tori would heal, but that was looking less and less likely as each day passed.

  Her husband Paul’s comforting presence slid through the luceria that linked them together. He was in a meeting with Joseph, but he was never far from her mind.

  He was worried what Tori might do.

  Andra wasn’t. If she had to, she’d restrain her sister. She refused to fear her. Tori needed help, not to be shunned.

  The real fear wasn’t what Tori would do to others; it was what she’d do to herself.

  Maybe Tynan was right. Maybe it was time to put Tori to sleep. Just for a while.

  Hope stepped through the hole Logan had opened in the overhead door. Leather stretched over his broad back. She was sure the first time she’d seen him, he’d been thinner. Gaunt. But now he was packed with lean, athletic muscle. So much so his coat barely fit. She wanted to run her hands over him to see if it was real or just one more trick her mind had played on her. Of course, the thought of touching him made her hands shake and something hot and excited fluttered in her stomach.

  She had to forcibly drag her gaze away from his back and focus on what they were doing.

  The building was quiet. Dust floated in the beam of her flashlight. The scent of lumber and musty animals filled her nose. There was barely any ambient light sliding in from the windows. Several of them had been boarded up, and those that weren’t were filthy with age and neglect.

  “What is this place?” asked Logan.

  “The Tyler building. They built custom furniture here years ago. It’s been for sale for as long as I can remember.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, his pale eyes brilliant in the dark. “How did you lose your memory?”

  She didn’t want to talk about this. Not with him. Not with anyone. “I don’t know. That’s the thing with amnesia. You can’t remember.”

  “Were you wounded?”

  “I don’t know,” she repeated, shoving the words out from between gritted teeth so he’d take a hint.

  “As you wish,” he said. “Tell me about your friend. Why are you looking here for her?”

  “She lives on the streets. She’d stay here sometimes, along with a lot of other people. It’s a good place to get out of the cold and snow.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “Sometimes she comes to the homeless shelter where I volunteer. Picks up a quick meal.”

  “Are you sure she’s missing? Could it be that she’s moved on?”

  Hope sighed, gathering her patience. It wasn’t his fault he was asking the same questions she’d already answered a hundred times. “I’d like to think she would have said something to me. She knows I worry.”

  “Do you worry about all the people you know?”

  “Yes, but not like Rory. She was young. Too young to be out here alone. She told me she was twenty-five, but she looked sixteen.”

  “A runaway?”

  “Probably. She’s tough. Rebellious. That’s enough to tell me she isn’t new to the streets.”

  They passed through a doorway that led to a stairwell. Logan went up. “Is she a prostitute?”

  “Maybe. I don’t ask. Does it matter?”

  Logan shrugged. His leather jacket creaked. “Not to me.”

  A tension riding along Hope’s neck loosened at his words. He wasn’t the type of man to instantly write off another because of mistakes they’d made or the things they were driven to do for the sake of survival. That was refreshing. And unexpected.

  It gave her the courage to let him in on her fears. “Have you ever had a bad feeling? One that wouldn’t go away?”

  “Constantly.”

  “No. I mean something that had no basis in logic or fact, but you were sure was true, anyway?”

  He stopped on a landing and gave her a steady look. “The notion is not a foreign one, no. Do you have a feeling like that?”

  Hope nodded, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. About Rory. She was running from something. I’m afraid that that something might have caught up with her.”

  Logan laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his touch sink through the puffy layers of her quilted jacket and into her skin.

  “What makes you think she was running?”

  “She moved around a lot. Never slept in the same place two nights in a row. Most people develop patterns. She had none that I could tell.”

  “How long have you known her?”

  “About a year.”

  “That’s a long time for someone like that to stay in one place.”

  “Yeah. I thought so, too. I asked her about it once and she said she was looking for someone. She wouldn’t say who.”

  Logan’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “Did she happen to have a ring-shaped birthmark that you’re aware of?”

  Hope was taken aback by the odd question. “No. Why?”

  “Do you?”

  “What?”

  His gaze grew intense, brightening a bit in the gloom of the stairwell. “Do you have a ring-shaped birthmark?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “It would explain a lot.”

  “How? All you’re doing is confusing me.”

  His hand slid down her arm until he grasped her fingers. Her leather gloves warmed to his touch, and she wished she hadn’t put them on now. The need to feel his skin on hers was suddenly an overwhelming, consuming thing.

  He took a small step toward her, closing the space between them. “I would very much like it if you’d answer my question.”

  “Tell me why first.”

  “That mark is important. It’s proof of a certain . . . genetic predisposition that identifies its bearer as a rare treasure.”

  “Like some kind of blood donor or something?”

  A small smile stretched his mouth, making him heartstoppingly beautiful. “Indeed. Do you wear it?”

  Hope shook her head, feeling a stab of disappointment. The way he said it—that rare treasure bit—made it sound romantic and special.

  What she wouldn’t give to be a good kind of special, instead of a brain-damaged, head-case kind of special.

  “No. Sorry.”

  He squeezed her hand before letting it go. “No worries. It simply means we still have a mystery to solve.”

  “Mystery?”

  “The location of your missing friend, of course,” he said, though she was certain that he’d meant something else entirely.

  “Right. We should get moving. I don’t like being here. Gives me the willies.”

  “We can’t have that, now, can we?” He turned and headed up the stairs, exiting the door onto the third floor. “I don’t suppose you have anything with Rory’s blood on it, do you?”

  “Her blood?”

  He nodded as he scanned the large open area sprinkled with wooden platforms she guessed were workbenches.

  “If I had some, I’d be able to locate her easily.”

  “How?” asked Hope.

  He ignored her question and headed toward the far end of the room where several bare mattresses sat. “This looks like a place one would sleep, does it not?”

  “How could you find her with her blood?”

  Logan gave her a panty-melting grin. “There are some things even your sweet face cannot coax out of me.”

  The veiled compliment slid through her, warming her down to her toes. Staring at that smile, she forgot what she wanted to know or why it mattered. His male beauty filled her head and made a pool of longing swell deep in her belly.

  She stood there, staring, watching his pale eyes slide over her body. That sunshine-warm feeling he gave off blasted her front, making her nipples bead up against a shiver of need.

  He pulled in a deep breath through his nose and his hands fisted at his sides.
“When you look at me like that, I forget who I am.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you want me. Like you wouldn’t care if I tossed you down on one of those dirty mattresses and took my pleasure with you.”

  Would she care? If it meant she could get his hands on her bare skin, sliding over her. Or maybe even get his mouth on her neck again and feel that hot tugging at her throat.

  The memory of what he’d done to her bloomed in her mind, only this time, there was no fear, only that languid pleasure of his mouth on her, his tongue swirling over her skin.

  Her hand fluttered to that spot, feeling an answering warmth glowing there so bright she was sure he could see it.

  A low hiss rose from him and his eyes flared bright, spilling light across her chest. “You should not tempt me.”

  Her voice shook with need as she answered. “I’m not doing anything.”

  “I am not a man,” he said, making it sound like a warning.

  “Then what are you?”

  “Dangerous. Hungry.”

  “Then let me feed you.” She’d meant food, but the way his gaze shot to her neck made her realize the other interpretations her words might have.

  “You’re too giving for your own good. I will use that against you. Eventually.”

  “But not now?”

  “Alas, no.”

  “Why warn me?” she asked.

  He shook his head, and when he spoke, she was sure she saw a white flash of fangs in his mouth. “I have no idea. You’re a weakness I can’t seem to understand. It’s best we complete our task and go our separate ways before I do something irrevocable.”

  He turned, striding toward the mattresses, clearly ending the conversation.

  Hope stood where she was, shaking. Now that he was farther away, she could feel her body returning to normal. Her pulse slowed, as did her breathing. The dots of sweat that had formed along her hairline evaporated into the cold night air. Her abdomen relaxed and that flush of heat dissipated from her skin.

  Whoever he was, whatever he was, Logan was potent. Intoxicating. Hope had always abstained from drugs and alcohol, worried that such things had contributed to her amnesia. She’d never even been tempted. But Logan was a different matter entirely. She wanted him. More than she’d ever wanted a man before in her life.