Blood Revolution (God Wars, #3) (12 page)

"It depends on where I find them," I said. "You know I'll want to take them out, but it doesn't need to happen in front of others."

"We can't shoot them?" Jayson sounded disappointed.

"My sister once said you don't take a gun to a vampire fight," I pointed out. "You'll be dead before you can pull the trigger." The only gun that might be useful against a vampire was a Ranos pistol or rifle, and that technology didn't need to fall into human hands.

"They move that fast?" Jayson was skeptical.

"I thought you showed him vampires and werewolves," I turned to Hank.

"From a safe distance, and they were walking down the street," Hank defended himself.

"They looked human, just like you," Jayson said. Opal snickered.

"So these don't impress you at all?" I pulled a hand from the water and let my claws slide out.

"Don't touch them," Opal warned as Jayson reached out a hand. "You'll lose your fingers and be left wondering how it happened."

"I've seen them slice metal," Bill agreed. "Lissa did that."

"You can slice metal?" Jayson pulled his hand back.

"I haven't tried metal, yet, but yeah, I could."

"What have you cut, then?" Jayson asked.

"I've lopped off a couple of vampire heads," I said. "Bill knows about that already," I added.

"The one here and the one in D.C." Bill agreed amiably. "And she had a hand in taking one down in Austin, but I don't have the whole story on that one."

"I caught him in the midsection, he flipped into the air and Radomir beheaded him on the way back down."

"What about you?" Opal asked.

"I was knocked flat on my back and couldn't breathe for a while," I replied.

"Unbelievable," Hank muttered.

"You weren't there," I said, studying his face. He looked as if he wanted to argue with my tactics. Well, they may not have been thoroughly considered, but it was the best I could do with the limited amount of time I had.

"No, I wasn't," he said and put his arms around me. "It just scares the hell out of me. I'll have to work on that."

"Hank, I do the best I can. While it may not be up to your special ops standards, so far I've come out of it alive."

"Breanne," Hank gripped my jaw in a hand and forced me to look him in the eye. "Coming out of it alive is only half the equation. The other half is who'd be destroyed if you went down."

I blinked at him and struggled to keep my fear from showing. Yes, everything could fall if I died. There would be no second chances for those left behind. Hank was speaking from a personal level, but he didn't know how true his words actually were.

"We're going to take you to the Sub-Mariner tonight, to get you used to what you'll see tomorrow," Hank's voice—and his grip on my jaw—softened. "I've already talked with Dale Saylor and he knows the score. He says he'll help in any way he can."

"Hank," I shivered, even sitting in hot, bubbling water.

"Bree, we don't need you to freak tomorrow. We need to find John's killers." I blinked into his dark eyes while my stomach tied itself in knots and threatened to dislodge breakfast.

"I feel sick," I pulled away from Hank's hand.

"No, sweetheart," Bill stood and waded toward me. "Opal and I are coming with Hank and Jayson tonight, so you'll have plenty of friends and support around you."

"Opal?" I turned to her. I needed support and a lifeline. I didn't want to see what I was likely to see—it terrified me in ways I couldn't begin to describe.

"Bree, I swear we'll punch anybody who upsets you," Opal said. "If I understand correctly, people go to these places to have a good time. They're having a good time, okay?"

"No," I moaned, closing my eyes and moving away from Hank. I was feeling sicker by the minute, until I was forced to fold to my bathroom. I think I lost everything I'd eaten in the last three days.

* * *

"Here, now," Jayson washed my face while Hank held me and Bill fretted nearby. They'd found me dry heaving into the toilet.

"We'll take care of you," Hank murmured against my ear. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

Say that when your past is the same as mine
, I snapped mentally.
Nothing to be afraid of? Most people don't know when to be afraid
.

"That's very true, they don't," Hank soothed. "We have to get you past some of this, so you'll be prepared instead of curling into a ball and shaking if you come across it in the outside world."

"That's frightening," I mumbled.

"Bree, things happen all the time. What if you ended up in a place where somebody needed your help, and they were being beaten? What would you do? Can you predict your actions, or could it go either way?"

"I can't predict my actions," I admitted reluctantly and lowered my eyes. "Either I'd freak and go catatonic, as you so kindly describe it, or freak in the other direction and make the person doing the beating dead—slowly, most likely—by cutting him into one-inch strips. While he screamed."

"Baby, quick death. Always give a quick death. It's merciful, and makes you stronger and better than the one you killed," Hank whispered.

"I pretty much have so far." I stared at my hands. The Sirenali I'd killed on Bexari, well, I'd removed limbs, but there'd been no other option unless I wanted to kill innocents. The moment he removed his obsessions, he'd died painlessly.

"But you didn't witness abuse when you killed. Did you?" Bill knelt in front of me and took my face in his hands. Jayson moved aside to give Bill more room.

"No. You're right, I'd probably freak."

"So we'll expose you to what you think of as abuse, even though it's not, in a controlled environment," Hank said. "We'll be around you, and we'll take care of you and get you used to this. You need your mind in good working order if you're faced with something like this someday, and it'll make me feel better if I can help you get through this without breaking down."

"I don't want to," I whined.

"Sweetheart," Bill stood and lifted me to my feet. "You don't know what you'll see, and let's face it, if Oscar Forde is involved with this new club in town, you may see things you didn't expect. Isn't that right?" My face was in his hands again, and brown eyes gazed steadily into mine.

"Yeah." My voice wobbled, and that embarrassed me. Were they right? That if I didn't do something about it, I could fold up like a wet cardboard box if I came across something that disturbed me? That could get me killed. Even worse—I could completely lose control and go berserk. I didn't want to join the ranks of torturers—that was repugnant to me.

"Jayson and I can go through some of the basics this afternoon," Hank rose to stand beside me. "We have some research materials, so you can prepare yourself."

"This is horrible," I muttered and pulled away from Bill to hug myself.

* * *

"Boss, I just heard from Trace. He says Ace saw the same car go past our gate three times. Windows too dark to get a good look at the driver."

William Winkler looked up from his laptop. He'd been tapping out emails at the breakfast table while he ate scrambled eggs and ham. His dark eyes studied his Second for a few moments while he chewed and swallowed a mouthful of food.

"Get a tag number?" Winkler asked.

Trajan Gibson, at nearly seven feet, shook his head in exasperation. "Boss, I know we look dumb, but most of the time we actually know what to do. Here." He passed a slip of paper to the Dallas Werewolf Packmaster. "Trace ran the plates. Car's from Oklahoma. Sold yesterday. No info on the buyer, yet. Paper tag removed, for some reason."

"That doesn't raise suspicions or anything," Winkler sipped coffee. "If it comes by again, have it followed. Discreetly. And call Director Bill. Let him know."

"Will do, Boss." Trajan left the kitchen.

* * *

Breanne's Journal

"There are several types of piercings. These," Jayson pushed a book with photographs toward me, "use long, thin pins to pierce the skin. Sometimes cord is laced around the pins afterward, for a more intense sensation."

I cringed at the photograph. A woman's labia had been pierced by several pins, which went through both sides. Another photograph depicted a woman's belly pierced similarly, with silk cord laced around the pins.

"You do this?" I stared at Jayson.

"No. I don't do piercings. People have specialties—things they like and are comfortable doing. I learned to go solo on fire play about a year ago," he stated proudly.

"Unbelievable," I shook my head. "Please tell me you haven't set anybody on fire."

"I haven't." He sounded offended that I'd mentioned it. "I saw what can happen, remember? I make sure the sub has clean, scrubbed skin and their hair is tied back and kept away from the areas in question. They ask me for this, Bree. Maybe once or twice a month I get asked. Their dom or master is there with them, just as they should be."

"Have you burned yourself, then?" I asked.

"I've been singed, and I don't have any hair left on my fingers," Jayson snickered.

"Pyromaniac," I accused. Jayson laughed.

"These next photographs," Hank pulled the book away and flipped forward a few pages, "are the ones I worry about," he said. The first one made me want to vomit again, and it wasn't the worst of the lot. A woman was lying on her belly, hog-tied. I freaked.

* * *

"Bill, this is Trajan Gibson," Trajan spoke over the phone. Bill, working on his laptop in a borrowed bedroom, had answered Trajan's call immediately.

"Trajan? Something up?" Bill asked.

"Maybe. We've had a suspicious car driving past the front gate all day. Paper tag missing, old tag registered in Oklahoma and sold yesterday. No info on the buyer."

"That doesn't raise suspicions," Bill observed dryly. "Have you tried tailing it? You think somebody caught wind of the update Winkler's working on for the software?"

"No idea, but that's the logical conclusion," Trajan agreed. "Had one of ours tail it after the last drive-by, and contacted the Grand Master, too. Since this is probably a human, there's not a lot he can do at the moment."

"Understood. Look, I'll see if there's anybody in the Dallas office I can put on this, and have them contact you. I'm in the San Francisco area at the moment, so if this turns out to be more serious, let me know. I can get a flight pretty quick."

"Will do, and thanks for the help," Trajan said.

"No problem. Keep me informed," Bill said before ending the call.

* * *

Breanne's Journal

"They really like it—being tied up," Hank stroked my forehead. I was on the floor, flat on my back, staring at the ceiling and gulping shaky breaths. "It's exciting to them to feel that helpless vulnerability," he said softly. "They trust the person tying them up," he continued. "Generally, unless it's some idiot who's experimenting without knowing what he or she is doing, the one doing the tying knows how tight and how long. Some even do intricate patterns and knots, as an art form."

"Not helping," I struggled to draw enough breath to speak.

"Breanne, both parties love this," Jayson settled on the floor on my other side. "Just like some people prefer to dress in period clothing, or corsets and fishnet stockings with stiletto heels. Some like scenes or scenarios—such as getting questioned by others posing as foreign police for a crime they didn't commit. They're handcuffed or tied to a chair. The costumes look authentic. It feels authentic. It's still a fantasy, so sex may figure into it, but at the end, it's all play. A good dominant or master is going to make it feel real by taking things in a direction the sub doesn't expect. Lots of people love that."

"They wouldn't love it if it
were
real," I huffed out. "They wouldn't love it if their lives really were on the line. If the torture was real. If death weren't so close it was grinning in their face."

"Bree, few people have gone through what you have and survived. Most don't come out of that without serious mental and physical issues. Mostly you're able to deal with this, but your circumstances and abilities are going to leave you in vulnerable positions. We have to desensitize you, so you can at least carry on without falling apart."

Hank turned his head and looked away. At that moment, I wished I knew what he was thinking. Regretted—just for an instant—that I couldn't read those things in him. A trembling sigh escaped and I closed my eyes. His hand covered my face carefully.
Bree, baby, do this. For me. Okay? You can do this. I love you. Bill loves you. Even Jayson loves you, and he's not used to that. Block it out when you see it, and any or all of us will let you fall apart in our arms later. Cry all over us. If we see those things like you say we will when we touch your tears, we'll wear sunglasses or a blindfold until it passes
.

I didn't know at first that Hank included Jayson in his mindspeech, but he did. Jayson lifted one of my hands and kissed it before stroking my fingers. Hank removed his hand and I blinked at both of them—their faces wavered in my vision as I accustomed my eyes to the light again.