Lara Adrian's Midnight Breed 8-Book Bundle (102 page)

His legs gave way beneath him and he sank to the floor, his vision blinded by reverberating light and ruthless memories.

He heard footsteps scuffing past him in a rush, and through the phantom stench of smoke and metal and ruined flesh, he smelled the faint, fleeting traces of juniper, honey, and rain.

CHAPTER
Four

D
ylan’s heart was still racing later that morning, after she and her companions had boarded the train that would take them from Jiáín to Prague. It seemed ridiculous to let herself get so rattled by the vagrant she’d run into in the cave, even if he probably was a little bit psycho to be living up there like some kind of wild man. He hadn’t harmed her after all.

Based on his bizarre meltdown when she tried to get some pictures of the cave before he could physically toss her out of there, she had probably scared him even more than he had her.

Dylan sat back in her compartment seat on the train, her computer open on her lap. Thumbnail images from her digital camera queued up on-screen as they downloaded to her computer from the thin black cable that connected the two devices. Most were from the past couple of days’ travel, but it was the final handful Dylan was most interested in now.

She double-clicked on one of the dark images from the cave, the first of the sequence. The photo expanded, filling the small screen of her laptop. Dylan considered the face that was all but concealed by a growth of overlong, unkempt hair. The dull, espresso-brown waves hung limply over razor-sharp cheekbones and fierce eyes that reflected back at the lens in the strangest shade of amber she’d ever seen. The jaw looked as rigid as iron, the full lips peeled back in a vicious snarl that wasn’t quite hidden behind the large hand that had come up to block the shot.

Jesus, it wouldn’t take much Photoshopping back at the office in New York to make the guy look positively demonic. He was more than halfway there already.

“How did your pictures come out, honey?” Janet’s curly silver head leaned over from beside Dylan on the cushioned bench seat. “Good Lord! What is
that
?”

Dylan shrugged, unable to take her eyes off the photo. “Just some whack-job squatter I ran into up at the cave this morning. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to be the star of my next story for the paper. What do you think? Just look at that face and tell me if you don’t see a blood-drinking savage who lurks in the mountains, waiting for his next hapless victim.”

Janet shuddered and went back to her crossword puzzle. “You’re gonna give yourself nightmares dreaming up stories like that.”

Dylan laughed as she clicked over to the next image on the screen. “Not me. Never had a nightmare. In fact, I don’t dream at all. Blank slate, each and every night.”

“Well, consider yourself lucky,” the older woman said. “I’ve always had the most vivid dreams. When I was a young girl, I used to dream recurrently about a white poodle with painted toenails who liked to sing and dance at the end of my bed. I would beg him to stop and let me sleep, but he just always kept singing. Can you imagine? He sang old show tunes mostly, those were his favorite. I’ve always enjoyed show tunes, myself as well…”

Dylan heard Janet’s voice beside her, but as she scrolled through the rest of the cave photographs on her computer, she was only half-listening at best. In her frantic pan of the place, she’d gotten one decent shot of the stone crypt and a couple of the elaborate wall art. The designs were even more impressive now that she had a chance to really study them.

Interlocking arcs and graceful, swirling lines ran the entire length of the cavern wall, rendered in a dark russet-brown ink. It looked semi-tribal yet oddly futuristic—unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Still more symbols and intertwining lines decorated the side of the crypt…one in particular that made the fine hairs at the back of Dylan’s neck tingle.

She zoomed in on the strange design.

What the hell?

The teardrop-and-crescent-moon symbol was unmistakable, nestled within a series of curving lines and geometric patterns. Dylan stared at it in astonishment, and not a little confusion. This one mark was not unfamiliar to her at all. She’d seen it before, countless times. Not in a photograph, but on her own body.

How on earth could that be?

Dylan brought her hand up to the nape of her neck, bewildered by what she was seeing. Her fingers ran over the smooth skin at the top of her spine, where she knew she bore a tiny crimson birthmark…exactly like the one she was looking at on the screen.

With a steady, cold gaze fixed on the mouth of the cave, Rio jabbed the button on the C-4 detonator. There was a quiet beep as the remote device engaged, barely a half-second pause before the plastic explosives packed into the rock went off. The blast was loud and deep, a tremor that rumbled like thunder in the surrounding night-dark forest. Thick yellow dust and pulverized sandstone shot out of the passageway, tapering off as the walls of the cave’s entry closed in, sealing the chamber and its secrets tight within.

Rio watched from the ground below, knowing that he should have been inside—would have been, if not for his own weakness and the intrusion by the female earlier that day.

It had taken a great deal of his strength to climb down from the mountain as dusk fell. Determination had carried him most of the way; self-directed rage had kept him focused and clearheaded as he took up his position below the cave and triggered the detonator.

As the smoke and debris dissipated on the breeze, Rio cocked his head. His acute hearing picked up movement in the woods. Not animal, but human—the brisk, two-legged stride of a hiker straggling alone past dark.

Rio’s fangs stretched at the thought of easy prey. His vision sharpened on instinct, his pupils narrowing as he pivoted his head to pan the area.

There—coming down a ridge just south of him. A lean human male with a camper’s pack slung onto his back tromped through the thicket, his short blond hair glowing like a beacon against the darkness. Rio watched the hiker casually skid and jog down a leafy incline to the trimmed path below. In another few minutes, he would be walking right past the very spot where Rio stood.

He was too depleted to hunt, but everything Breed in him was on full alert, ready and waiting for the chance to spring.

To feed, as he so desperately needed to do.

The human strode nearer, unaware of the predator watching him from the cover of the trees. He didn’t see the strike coming, not until Rio launched himself out of hiding in one great leap. The human screamed then—a sound of sheer terror. He flailed and struggled, all for nothing.

Rio worked quickly, throwing the young man to the ground and pinning him prone under the bulk of his large backpack. He bit down on the bared column of the human’s neck, and filled his mouth with the sudden, hot spill of fresh blood. The nourishment was immediate, sending renewed strength into muscle and bone and mind.

Rio drank what he needed from his Host and no more. A sweep of his tongue sealed the wound; a sweep of his hand over the human’s sweat-soaked brow erased all memory of the attack.

“Go,” he told him.

The man got up, and soon the flaxen head and bulky pack disappeared into the night.

Rio glanced up at the crescent moon overhead, feeling the hard pound of his pulse as his body absorbed the gift of the human’s blood.

He needed this strength, because his night’s hunting had only just begun.

Rio tipped his head back and dragged the night air through his teeth and fangs, deep into his lungs. His Breed senses sharpened, searching for the scent of his true quarry. She had been on this path hours ago, tearing out of the woods in fear. As well she should fear him. The flame-haired beauty had no idea of the secret she’d stumbled upon in that cave. Nor of the beast she’d roused in the process.

Rio’s mouth curved into a smile as he sifted through the olfactory stew of the woodland air, finally registering the scent he sought. He breathed in the trace, lingering fragrance of her. Her trail was hours-old and fading fast in the humid night wind, but Rio would know her anywhere.

He would find her.

No matter how far she’d run.

CHAPTER
Five

A
s the topper to a day that had started out weird and gotten even weirder, Dylan probably shouldn’t have been surprised to find an e-mail from Coleman Hogg waiting for her when she fired up her computer after dinner that night in Prague. She’d submitted her story and a few pictures from the mountain cave once she’d arrived at the hotel around noon, not expecting to hear anything from her boss until she got home in a couple more days.

But he was interested in what she’d found on the mountain outside Jiáín—so interested, in fact, he had taken it upon himself to hire a freelance photographer in Prague to go back with Dylan and get a few more shots for the piece.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Dylan grumbled as she scanned the message from her boss.

“You’d better get packing, honey. We don’t want to miss our train.” Janet dropped a collection of half-empty toiletry bottles into a plastic bag and zipped it closed. “Would anyone like the hotel hand lotion from out of the bathroom, or can I have it? And there’s also a bar of hand soap in there that hasn’t been opened…”

Dylan ignored the chatter from her traveling companions as the trio of them continued rounding up their things in preparation of their departure from Prague that evening.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Nancy asked as she zipped up her small suitcase and propped it on one of the two queen beds in their shared room.

“My boss must not realize that when I said I was leaving Prague tonight, that meant I was leaving Prague tonight.”

Or rather he did understand, and didn’t care. According to his e-mail, Dylan was supposed to meet the Czech photographer tomorrow for a return trip to Jiáín.

Marie came over and glanced at the computer. “Is this about your story?”

Dylan nodded. “He thinks it could be interesting with a few more pictures. He wants me to meet someone about it in the morning. He’s already set up the appointment for me.”

“But we’re due at the train station in less than an hour,” Janet pointed out.

“I know,” Dylan said, as she started typing a reply message to that effect.

She explained that she and her companions were taking the evening train to Vienna—their last stop on the tour before they departed back home for the States. She wouldn’t be able to meet with the photographer because as of ten o’clock tonight, she wasn’t going to be around.

Dylan finished typing the reply, but as she moved her cursor over the
Send
button, she hesitated to let the message go. She already had a reserved seat on Coleman Hogg’s shit list. If she turned down this appointment—for any reason—she knew without a doubt that she would be kissing her job good-bye.

And as tempting as the thought actually was, getting herself fired was something she really couldn’t afford to do right now.

“Damn it,” she muttered, sliding her mouse over to click the
Delete
button instead. “It’s too late for me to cancel this meeting, and I probably shouldn’t anyway. You all are going to have to continue on to Vienna without me. I have to stay behind and take care of this story.”

Rio disembarked in Prague from a train packed with humans. Thanks to the blood he’d consumed and the rage that was coursing through every nerve ending in his body, his Breed instincts were locked on full alert as he stepped onto the platform of the busy station. Apparently his quarry had fled here, to Prague, after their confrontation earlier today. He’d been able to track her scent from the mountain into Jiáín. From there, with a bit of mental persuasion, the operator of the small hotel in town had been cooperative enough to direct him toward Prague, where the American female and her companions had mentioned they were heading for the last leg of their stay abroad.

The tranced human had also been persuaded to fit Rio with a lightweight trench coat from the hotel’s lost-and-found. Although the taupe garment was out of season and several sizes too small, it did a decent job hiding the worst of the filthy, bloodstained rags he wore underneath. He didn’t give a shit about style or his looks, or even his certain stench, but he didn’t need to draw undue attention by walking into a public place like some kind of castaway freak show.

Rio tried to mask his muscular bulk and height, assuming a hunched yet purposeful shuffle as he ambled through the busy station. No one gave him anything more than a passing glance, the humans subconsciously dismissing him as one of the dozen-plus homeless unfortunates who loitered near the platforms or slept in corners of the station as the trains screeched and roared through the terminal.

With his head down to hide the scar-riddled left side of his face, eyes intense beneath the fall of his unkempt hair, Rio headed for the exit that would put him on a direct path into the heart of the city, where his hunt for the woman and her damning pictures would resume.

Anger kept him focused, even when his head began to spin in the noisy, harshly lit cavern of the station. He ignored the swamping feelings of dizziness and confusion, pushing them down deep so he could find his course and keep it.

Forcing his vision to clear, he moved through a tight knot of young men engaged in a sudden argument in the middle of the terminal. The verbal contest turned physical as Rio passed, one skinny kid from the group getting shoved into a well-dressed English tourist who was yammering on a cell phone as he hurried for the train. The unwitting mark scowled as he recovered from the very deliberate collision and continued on, unaware that he’d just lost his wallet to the gang of professional pickpockets. The thieves moved off with their score, dispersing into the crowd where they would probably pull the same stunt a few more times before the night was through.

In another time, another place, Rio might have gone after the juvenile deliquents, just to set them straight. To show them that the night had eyes…and teeth, if they were too cocky to take a helpful hint.

But he was through playing the dark angel to the humans who lived alongside his kind. Let them cheat and kill one another. He frankly didn’t care. As of lately, there wasn’t much of anything he cared about—save his oath of honor pledged to his brethren of the Order.

Damn fine job he’d done upholding that vow.

He’d let them down by not sealing the mountain crypt as they’d trusted him to do several months ago. Now that failure was compounded. Now there was a witness. With photographs.

Yeah, absolutely stellar job he’d done so far.

Now the situation was as fucked up as he was.

Rio strode hard for the station exit, inhaling the countless scents that filled the air around him and processing them with a ruthless, determined concentration.

His feet stopped moving at the first trace of juniper and honey.

He swung his head around, following the tickle in his nose like a hound let loose on felled game. The scent of the one he sought was fresh—too fresh to be anything but immediately present.

Madre de Dios.

The woman he hunted was here, in the train station.

“You sure you’re going to be okay by yourself, honey? I don’t feel right about leaving you behind like this.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Dylan gave Janet and the other two women quick hugs as the group of them stood inside Prague’s central train station. It was busy even at this time of night, the art deco building crowded with travelers, panhandlers, and quite a number of sleeping homeless people.

“What if something should happen to you?” Janet asked. “Your mom would never forgive us—and I would never forgive myself—if you get hurt or lost or mugged.”

“Thirty-two years in New York hasn’t killed me. I’m pretty sure I can survive a day here on my own.”

Marie’s brow furrowed. “And what about your flight home?”

“Already taken care of. I changed everything online back at the hotel. I’ll be flying out of Prague the day after tomorrow.”

“We could wait for you, Dylan.” Nancy hefted her backpack up over her shoulder. “Maybe we should forget about Vienna and rebook our flights too, so we can all go home together.”

“Yes,” Marie agreed. “Maybe we should.”

Dylan shook her head. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to ask any of you to spend the last day of your trip babysitting me when it’s really not necessary. I’m a big girl. Nothing’s going to happen. Go on, I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“You’re sure, honey?” Janet asked.

“Positive. Enjoy yourselves in Vienna. I’ll see you back home in the States in a couple of days.”

It took a further round of fretting and tongue-clucking before the three women finally made their way to the departure platform. Dylan walked along with them, waiting as they boarded. She watched the train roll out of the station, then turned to leave with the rest of the people who’d come to see loved ones off that night.

As she walked toward the station exits, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being observed. Paranoia, no doubt, brought on by Janet’s worrying on her behalf. But still…

Dylan glanced around her in a casual pan of the area, trying not to look anxious or lost—emotional beacons for the types of people who liked to prey on stupid tourists. She held her purse in front of her, one arm locked down over it to keep it close to her body. She knew public transportation areas were prime targets for thieves, just like in the States, and she didn’t miss the fact that the group of local teens hanging at a bank of pay phones near the exit were casting measured looks at the crowds as they dispersed. Pickpockets, most likely. She’d heard they often ran in packs around these places.

Just to be safe, she cut a wide berth and avoided them, taking the farthest door from the group.

She was feeling pretty street-savvy when she noticed a uniformed security guard walk up to the guys and show them the door. They loped off, and Dylan reached for the push bar on the glass door in front of her.

In the reflection coming back at her from the glass, she saw a familiar face—one that made her heart seize up in her chest.

Behind her, almost close enough to touch her, was a very large man barreling at her from the direction of the train platforms. Fierce eyes seemed to burn like coals under the fall of his dark hair.

And his mouth…

Good God, she’d never seen a more terrifying sneer in her life. A row of perfect white teeth were clamped tightly behind the lips that were peeled back in a feral snarl, pulling the muscles of his lean face into a stark, deadly mask.

It was him—the man she’d found in the mountain cave outside Jiáín.

He’d followed her all this way? Evidently so. She’d thought he might be crazy when she saw him earlier that day, but now she was certain. The way he looked at her now, he had to be an utter psychopath.

And he was gunning for her like he meant to tear her apart with his bare hands.

Dylan shrieked; she couldn’t hold back her sharp gasp of fear. She ducked away from the exit, pulling a hard left and running, hopefully out of his path. A quick glance backward only made her pulse slam harder.

“Oh, Jesus,” she murmured, fright arrowing through her.

It couldn’t be him. He couldn’t be here looking for her…

But it
was
him.

And from the knot of terror that was lodged in her throat, she wasn’t about to stand around and ask him what he wanted from her.

She raced over to the station security guard and grabbed the man by the arm. “Help, please! Someone’s after me.” She flung a look over her shoulder, pointing behind her. “He’s back there—light trench coat and long dark hair. Please. You have to help me!”

The uniformed Czech frowned, but he must have understood her because he followed her panicked gesture, his narrowed eyes scanning the station. “Where?” he asked, his English thickly accented. “Show me this man. Who is bothering you?”

“I don’t know who he is, but he was right behind me. You can’t miss him—more than six feet tall, shoulders like a linebacker, dark, dingy hair hanging over his face…”

Feeling safer now, she turned around, ready to confront the lunatic and hopefully watch him be carted off to the local asylum.