Lara Adrian's Midnight Breed 8-Book Bundle (69 page)

Next to the futon, in a space that might have held a table and chairs, were a treadmill and a resistance training machine. Elise’s blood-stained parka lay on the floor there, and on the sorry-looking yellow kitchen counter were a cell phone and an MP3 player. Elise’s decorating style left a lot to be desired, but it was her choice of wall covering that Tegan found most peculiar.

Crudely nailed to all four walls of the one-room living space were acoustic foam panels—soundproofing material. Yards of the stuff, covering every square inch of the walls and the back of the door, too. “What the fu—”

In the adjacent bathroom, there was a metallic squeak as the shower abruptly cut off. Tegan turned to face the door as it opened a moment later. Elise was pulling a white terrycloth robe around herself as she glanced up, met his gaze, and gasped.

“Tegan.” Her voice was barely audible over the din of the music and TV. She made no move to turn them down, just came out of the bathroom and stood as far away from him as possible. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Tegan let his eyes drift around the meager living quarters, if only to quit looking at her in her state of near-undress. “Shitty place you have here. Who’s your decorator?”

She didn’t answer him. Her pale amethyst eyes stayed fixed on him as though she didn’t quite trust him, nervous to find herself alone with him. And who could blame her? Tegan knew he had the reputation of a stone cold killer. It was simply fact. But the last time he’d seen Elise, he’d shown her nothing but kindness, deference paid the Darkhaven female out of respect for what she was going through. It hadn’t hurt that she was a breathtaking beauty, as fragile as a frost flower.

Some of that fragility was gone now, Tegan noted, seeing the lines of muscle definition in her bare calves and arms. Her face was still lovely, but not as full as he remembered. Her eyes were still alive with intelligence but their sheen was somehow brittle, a characteristic made more pronounced by the trace shadows beneath her lashes.

And her hair…Jesus, she’d shorn off the long blond waves. The cascade of spun gold that used to fall to her hips was now a crown of thick silky spikes that rose around her head in pixie-like disarray, and framed the lean oval of her face.

She was still stunning, but in an entirely different way than Tegan ever would have imagined.

“You forgot something back in the alley.” He held out the wicked hunting blade. When she moved to take it from him, he drew it back out of her reach. “What were you doing out there tonight, Elise?”

She shook her head, said something too softly to be heard over the din filling the apartment. Impatient, Tegan mentally shut the stereo down. He glanced to the television, about to silence that device as well.

“No!” Elise shook her head, wincing, her fingers clutching her temple. “Wait—leave it on, please. I need…the noise soothes me.”

Tegan scowled his doubt, but left the TV alone. “What happened to you tonight, Elise? Did someone hurt you out there? Were you attacked before the Rogues discovered you in the alley?”

Her answer seemed long in coming. “No. I wasn’t attacked.”

“You want to explain all that blood on your coat over there? Or why you’re living in a part of town where you feel the need to carry around this kind of hardware?”

She held her head in her hands, her voice a rough whisper. “I don’t want to explain anything. Please, Tegan. I wish you hadn’t come here. Just, please…you have to leave now.”

He exhaled a sharp laugh. “I just saved your sweet little ass, darlin’. I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you tell me why I had to.”

“I didn’t mean to be out past dark. I know the dangers. Things just took…a little longer than I anticipated.”

“Things,” he repeated, not liking where this seemed to be heading. “We’re not talking about shopping or coffee with friends, are we?”

Tegan’s gaze went back to the kitchen counter, to the familiar design of the cell phone that lay there. He scowled, suspicion coiling in his gut as he walked over and picked it up. He’d seen dozens of these things lately. The phone was one of those disposable jobs, the kind favored by humans in league with the Rogues. He flipped it over and disabled the built-in GPS chip.

Tegan knew if he took the cell phone in to the compound lab, Gideon would find it contained just one number, super-encrypted and impossible to break. This particular phone was spattered with human blood, the same shit that soaked the front of Elise’s coat. “Where’d you get this, Elise?”

“I think you know,” she replied, her voice quiet but defiant.

He turned to face her. “You took it off a Minion? By yourself? Jesus Christ…how?”

She shrugged, still rubbing the side of her head as if it pained her. “I tracked him from the train station. I followed him, and when the chance was there, I killed him.”

It wasn’t often that Tegan was taken by surprise, but hearing those words coming out of the petite female hit him like a brick to the back of his head. “You can’t be serious.”

But she was. The level look she gave him left no doubt whatsoever.

Behind her, the television screen flashed with a breaking news bulletin. A reporter came on, delivering word that a stabbing victim had been discovered a few minutes before:

“—the deceased was found just two blocks south of the train station, yet another killing in what authorities are beginning to suspect is a string of related murders…”

As the live report continued, and Elise calmly stared at him from across the room, Tegan’s blood ran cold with understanding.

“You?” he asked, already knowing the answer, incredible as it seemed.

When Elise didn’t respond, Tegan stalked over to a foot locker on the floor near the futon. He yanked it open and swore as his eyes lit on a large assortment of blades, guns, and ammunition. A lot of it was still brand-new, but others had been used and had the wear to show for it.

“How long, Elise? When did you start this insanity?”

She stared at him, her slender jaw held rigid. “My son is dead because of the Rogues,” she said finally. “I couldn’t sit around doing nothing.”

Tegan heard the resolve in her voice, but that didn’t make him any less pissed off about what was going on here. “How many? Tonight wasn’t the first, obviously. How many times have you done this, Elise?”

She said nothing for a very long time. Then she slowly walked over to the bookcase and knelt down to pull out a lidded crate from the bottom shelf. Her gaze on Tegan, she lifted the top and calmly set it aside.

In the bin were more Minion cell phones.

At least a dozen of the damned things.

Tegan dropped his ass onto the futon and raked his fingers through his hair. “Holy hell, woman. Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

About the Author

With family roots stretching back to the
Mayflower,
author Lara Adrian lives with her husband in coastal New England, surrounded by centuries-old graveyards, hip urban comforts, and the endless inspiration of the broody Atlantic Ocean. To learn more about Lara and her novels, please visit www.LaraAdrian.com.

Also by Lara Adrian

KISS OF MIDNIGHT

MIDNIGHT AWAKENING

MIDNIGHT AWAKENING

A Dell Book / December 2007

Published by Bantam Dell

A Division of Random House, Inc.

New York, New York

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2007 by Lara Adrian, LLC

Dell is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

www.bantamdell.com

eISBN: 978-0-440-33758-4

v3.0

To my readers, with deep appreciation for all the enthusiasm and support you’ve shown for my books.
Thank you so much!

And to my husband, my true north, and proof positive that “happily ever after” really does exist outside the written page.
You’ll always be my hero!

Acknowledgments

With thanks to my agent and everyone at Bantam Dell for the continued belief in me, and for the wonderful attention given to each of my books. Thanks also to my copyeditors, proofreaders, and other folks working behind the scenes. (Hi, Destiny and Jeremy!)

Big hugs to my writer pals for tolerating prolonged bouts of radio silence on my end, yet still being available for last-minute sanity checks and encouragement. Thank you especially to Kayla Gray, Jaci Burton, Larissa Ione, and Stephanie Tyler for simply being awesome.

Additional gratitude goes out to three immensely talented bands whose music brought much of this story to life in my imagination. Inspiration (and a continuing daily addiction) is due to the artistry of Collide, H.I.M., and Black Lab.

CHAPTER
One

S
he walked among them undetected, just another afternoon rush-hour commuter trudging through the fresh February snowfall on her way to the train station. No one paid any mind at all to the petite female in the hooded oversized parka, her scarf concealing her face to just below her eyes, which watched the crowds of human pedestrians with keen interest. Too keen, she knew, but she couldn’t help it.

She was anxious being out among them, and impatient to find her prey.

Her head rang with the pound of rock music blaring in through the tiny earbuds of a portable MP3 player. It wasn’t hers. It had belonged to her teenage son—to Camden. Sweet Cam, who’d died just four months ago, a victim of the underworld war that Elise herself was now a part of as well. He was the reason she was here, prowling Boston’s crowded streets with a dagger in her coat pocket and a titanium-edged blade strapped to her thigh.

More than ever now, Camden was the reason she lived.

His death could not go unavenged.

Elise crossed at a traffic light and moved up the road toward the station. She could see people talking as she passed them, their lips moving silently, their words—more important, their thoughts—drowned out by the aggressive lyrics, screaming guitars, and pulsing throb of bass that filled her ears and vibrated in her bones. She didn’t know precisely what she was listening to, nor did it matter. All she needed was the noise, played loud enough and long enough to get her into place for the hunt.

She entered the building, just one more person in a river of moving humanity. Harsh light spilled down from fluorescent tubes in the ceiling. The odor of street filth and dampness and too many bodies assailed her nose through her scarf. Elise walked farther inside, coming to a slow pause in the center of the station. Forced to divide around her, the flowing crowd passed on either side, many bumping into her, jostling her in their haste to make the next train. More than one glared as they passed, mouthing obscenities over her abrupt halt in the middle of their path.

God, how she despised all of this contact, but it was necessary. She took a steadying breath, then reached into her pocket and turned off the music. The din of the station rushed upon her like a wave, engulfing her with the racket of voices, shuffling feet, the traffic outside, and the metallic grate and rumble of the incoming train. But these noises were nothing compared to the others that swamped her now.

Ugly thoughts, bad intentions, secret sins, open hatreds—all of it churned around her like a black tempest, human corruption seeking her out and hammering into her senses. It staggered her, as always, that first rush of ill wind nearly overwhelming her. Elise swayed on her feet. She fought the nausea that rose within her and tried her best to weather the psychic assault.

—Such a bitch, I hope they fire her ass—

—Goddamn hick tourists, why don’t you go back where you belong—

—Idiot! Outta my way, or I’ll friggin’ knock you flat—

—So what if she’s my wife’s sister? Not like she wasn’t after me all this time—

Elise’s breath was coming faster with each second, a headache blooming in her temples. The voices in her mind blended into ceaseless, almost indistinguishable chatter, but she held on, bracing herself as the train arrived and its doors opened to let a new sea of people pour out onto the platform. They spilled around her, more voices added to the cacophony that was shredding her from the inside.

—Panhandling losers ought to put the same effort into getting a damn job—

—I swear, he puts his hand on me one more time, I’ma kill the sumbitch—

—Run, cattle! Run back to your pens! Pathetic creatures, my Master is right, you do deserve to be enslaved—

Elise’s eyes snapped wide. Her blood turned to ice in her veins the instant the words registered in her mind. This was the one voice she waited to hear.

The one she came here to hunt.

She didn’t know the name of her prey, or even what he looked like, but she knew what he was: a Minion. Like the others of his kind, he had been human once, but now he was something less than that. His humanity had been bled away by the one he called Master, a powerful vampire and the leader of the Rogues. It was because of them—the Rogues and the evil one guiding them in a growing war within the vampire race—that Elise’s only son was dead.

After being widowed five years ago, Camden was all she’d had left, all that mattered in her life. With his loss, she’d found a new purpose. An unwavering resolve. It was that resolve she leaned upon now, commanding her feet to move through the thick crowd, searching for the one she’d make pay for Camden’s death this time.

Her head spun with the continued bombardment of painful, ugly thoughts, but finally she managed to single out the Minion. He stalked ahead of her by several yards, his head covered by a black knit cap, his body draped in a tattered, faded green camouflage jacket. Animosity poured out of him like acid. His corruption was so total, Elise could taste it like bile in the back of her throat. And she had no choice but to stick close to him, waiting for her chance to make her move.

The Minion exited the station and headed up the sidewalk at a fast clip. Elise followed, her fingers wrapped tightly around the dagger in her pocket. Outside with fewer people, the psychic blare had lessened, but the pain of overload in the station was still present, boring into her skull like a steel spike. Elise kept her eyes trained on her quarry, picking up her speed as he ducked into a business off the street. She came up to the glass door and peered past the painted FedEx logo to see the Minion waiting in line for the counter.

“Excuse me, miss,” someone said from behind her, startling her with the sound of a true voice, and not the buzz of words that were still filling her head. “You going inside or what, lady?”

The man behind her pushed open the door as he said it, holding it for her expectantly. She hadn’t intended to go in, but now everyone was looking at her—the Minion included—and it would draw more attention to herself if she refused. Elise strode into the brightly lit business and immediately feigned interest in a display of shipping boxes in the front window.

From her periphery, she watched as the Minion waited his turn in line. He was edgy and violent-minded, his thoughts berating the customers ahead of him. Finally he approached the counter, ignoring the clerk’s greeting.

“Pickup for Raines.”

The attendant typed something into a computer, then hesitated a second. “Hang on.” He headed to a back room, only to return a moment later shaking his head. “It hasn’t arrived yet. Sorry ’bout that.”

Fury rolled off the Minion, tightening like a vise around Elise’s temples. “What do you mean, ‘it hasn’t arrived’?”

“Most of New York got hit with a big snowstorm last night, so a lot of today’s shipments have been delayed—”

“This shit’s supposed to be guaranteed,” the Minion snarled.

“Yeah, it is. You can get your money back, but you have to fill out a claim—”

“Fuck the claim, you moron! I need that package. Now!”

My Master will have my ass if I don’t turn up with this delivery, and if my ass goes in a sling, I’m going to come back here and rip your goddamn lungs out.

Elise drew in her breath at the virulence of the unspoken threat. She knew the Minions lived only to serve the one who made them, but it was always a shock to hear the terrible depth of their allegiance. Nothing was sacred to their kind. Lives meant nothing, be they human or Breed. Minions were nearly as awful as the Rogues, the bloodthirsty, criminal faction of the vampire nation.

The Minion leaned over the counter, fists braced on either side of him. “I need that package, asshole. I’m not leaving without it.”

The clerk backed away, his expression suddenly gone wary. He grabbed the phone. “Look, man, as I’ve explained to you, there’s nothing more I can do for you on this. You’re gonna have to come back tomorrow. Right now, you need to leave before I call the police.”

Useless piece of shit,
the Minion growled inwardly.
I’ll come back tomorrow all right. Just you wait ’til I come back for you!

“Is there a problem here, Joey?” An older man came out from the back, all business.

“I tried to tell him that his stuff ain’t here yet on account of the storm, but he won’t give it up. Like maybe I’m supposed to pull it out of my a—”

“Sir?” the manager said, cutting off his employee and pinning the Minion with a serious look. “I’m going to ask you politely to leave now. You need to go, or the police will be called to escort you out of here.”

The Minion growled something indistinguishable but nasty. He slammed his fist down on the countertop, then whirled around and started stalking away. As he neared the door where Elise stood, he swept over a floor display, sending rolls of tape and bubble packs scattering to the floor. Although Elise stepped back, the Minion was coming too hard toward her. He glared down at her with vacant, inhuman eyes.

“Get out of my way, cow!”

She’d barely moved before he barreled past her and out the door, pushing so hard the glass panes rattled like they were going to shatter.

“Asshole,” one of the patrons still in line muttered once the Minion had gone.

Elise felt the wave of relief wash over the other customers at his departure. Part of her was relieved too, glad that no one met with harm. She wanted to wait for a while in the momentary calm in the store, but it was an indulgence she couldn’t afford. The Minion was storming across the street now, and dusk was coming fast.

She only had half an hour at best before darkness fell and the Rogues came out to feed. If what she did was dangerous in the daytime, at night it was nothing short of suicide. She could slay a Minion with stealth and steel—already had, in fact, more than once—but like any other human, female or not, she stood no chance against the blood-addicted strength of the Rogues.

Girding herself for what she had to do, Elise slipped out the door and followed the Minion up the street. He was angry and walking brusquely, slamming into other pedestrians and snarling curses at them as he passed. A barrage of mental pain filled her head as more voices joined the din already clanging in her mind, but Elise kept pace with her target. She hung a few yards behind, her eyes trained on the pale green bulk of his jacket through the light flurry of fresh snow. He swung left around the corner of a building and into a narrow alley. Elise hurried now, desperate not to lose him.

Midway down the side street, he yanked open a battered steel door and disappeared. She crept up to the windowless slab of metal, palms sweating despite the chill in the air. His violent thoughts filled her head—murderous thoughts, all the grisly things he would do out of deference to his Master.

Elise reached into her pocket to withdraw her dagger. She held it close to her side, poised to strike, but concealed behind the long drape of her coat. With her free hand, she grasped the latch and pulled open the unlocked door. Snowflakes swirled ahead of her into the gloomy vestibule that reeked of mildew and old cigarette smoke. The Minion stood near a bank of mail slots, one shoulder leaning against the wall as he flipped open a cell phone like the ones they all carried—the Minions’ direct line to their vampire Master.

“Shut the fucking door, bitch!” he snapped, soulless eyes glinting. His brows dropped into a scowl as Elise moved toward him with swift, deadly purpose. “What the hell is th—”

She drove the dagger hard into his chest, knowing that the element of surprise was one of her best advantages. His anger hit her like a physical blow, pushing her backward. His corruption seeped into her mind like acid, burning her senses. Elise struggled through the psychic pain, coming back to strike him again with the blade, ignoring the sudden wet heat of his blood spilling onto her hand.

The Minion sputtered, grasping out for her as he fell against her. His wound was mortal, so much blood she nearly lost her stomach at the sight and smell of it. Elise twisted out of the Minion’s heavy lean and leaped out of the way as he fell to the floor. Her breath was sawing out of her lungs, her heart racing, her head splitting in agony as the mental barrage of his rage continued in her mind.

The Minion thrashed and hissed as death overtook him. Then, finally, he stilled.

Finally, there was silence.

With trembling fingers, Elise retrieved the cell phone from where it lay at her feet and slipped it into her pocket. The slaying had drained her, the combined physical and psychic exertion almost too much to bear. Each time seemed to weigh more heavily on her, take longer for her to recover. She wondered if the day would come that she might slide so deep into the abyss that she’d not rebound at all. Probably, she guessed, but not today. And she would keep fighting so long as she had breath in her body and the pain of loss in her heart.

“For Camden,” she whispered, staring down at the dead Minion as she clicked on the MP3 player in preparation of her return home. Music blared from the tiny earbuds, muting the gift that gave her the power to hear the darkest secrets of a human’s soul.