Louisiana Moon (23 page)

Ryant strode into the coven. In an instant, Sparky was there to meet him. “Do you have any updates?”

“Syth said he was unable to help you, that he has problems in his own area in need of controlling. He said he doesn’t want Queen Cekah breathing down his neck.” Sparky rushed to keep up with Ryant’s strides.

He didn’t want the queen breathing down his neck either. “What’s happening in the Texas district?”

“There have been murders taking place, our kind killing humans.”

What in the hell was going on within the Darkworld? Humans were being murdered. At least what he did would give humans eternal life. Damn it. He wished he knew what to do to stop the nonsense.

“Have you contacted the Throne?”

“No response yet.”

“Okay. We will have to do this on our own. Any more leads on Stanley?” Time pressed on Ryant’s shoulders. Who knew how much longer until the Soulscapes would have their clutches on human and preternatural souls—including his Kris. He couldn’t allow that. Tomorrow night he’d go to her home, keep an eye on her himself.

The earth shook beneath his feet, and then stopped. There went another sunrise.

He looked at Sparky. “Get me Stanley’s previous location, address—anything before he turned vampire.”

“Will do.” Sparky scurried away.

As he opened his bedroom door, Ryant’s gaze went directly to V who stood in the center of his room dressed in naughty lingerie, all see-through black and lace and very little of it. The only thing connecting the top, over the panties, was a garter belt to thigh-high pantyhose.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she purred.

“V, I told you a year ago it was over between us.”

“You made my human leave with that werewolf.”

“Don’t call her that,” Ryant growled.

“Well, it’s true.”

He glared at her as he strolled over to an Italian chest and unlocked it. After pulling out a skeleton key, he closed and locked the chest.

V stood behind him, dragging her sharp nails down his spine. “Can we have one more night? I need you.”

He straightened to his full height. In a quick motion, he turned and yanked V by the elbows to his body. His mouth hovered above hers. She longed for this, wanted it so badly sex oozed from her pores.

Shade, get in here.

Her eyes widened. “Shade? No. I want you.”

“You only think you want me.”

Shade came prowling through the bedroom door.

“Take V, go make her happy.”

“But…but…” She dropped to her knees before Ryant, clawing at his pant leg.

“Enough said. Go.” Ryant pointed at the door.

V looked disappointed. Her bottom lip pouted as her eyes filled with unshed tears. Shade lifted her to her feet and led her out of the room. She’d get over it. He would make her happier than Ryant ever could, or wanted to. Not when he was in love with another. Thoughts of the past set out to retrieve what once was his, and his hand tightened around the key.

After the door shut, he went to the bookshelf and extracted the legacy book. He wished he could read the damn thing. Only wolves could decipher the text in the book.

I hope this will make you happy, Kris.

He went to the computer and typed in Stanley Adams name. Ryant changed his mind about Kris finding him alone. If he could find his own lead, he’d convince her to work with him. Then he could work on convincing the stubborn wolf she belonged with him, prophecy or not

* * * *

Two nights after the Knight Lost Loves event, Kris sat behind her desk totaling the money from the evening. Darin had made himself comfortable in the cozy chair across from her, flipping through one of her gun magazines. The silence between them was companionable. She was finding it harder and harder to imagine him leaving when she figured V’d moved onto other prey.

Kris kept her fingers and mind busy as she neared the end of the cash pile, checks and online donations. She’d not heard or seen Ryant since that night. Was that a good or bad thing?

As if her thoughts summoned him, the front door to the office opened wide and as she looked up, in walked Ryant, his posture screaming command and dominance. She frowned.
Great, lady, you might as well have called him.

At first, Ryant’s gaze focused on her, then, as he glanced around, it landed on Darin. Two large strides took him across the room until he towered over the other man. Darin tilted his head back but didn’t otherwise move. She half stood then waited to see how this played out. She had a feeling Darin was going to be a part of her life and the vampire would just have to accept it.

And apparently, he wasn’t listening to her thoughts because he didn’t whirl around and argue the point. Instead, he leaned in and sniffed the air around Darin. “I don’t like how you smell. It’s familiar, like charcoal.”

This made Darin shoot up from the seat and stand toe-to-toe with Ryant. “We just came back from a Cajun grill. What do you expect me to smell like?”

At the
we
,
R
yant’s lips curled and he glanced over at her then back at Darin. “Something isn’t right here.”

Time to intercede. “Ryant, enough. Tell me what you want or get out.”

“I can’t. I brought you this.” He extended a leather bound book with branded vines woven over the cover. “This is yours. I suggest whatever is found, you continue your search in the morning, not at night. Here’s the key to unlock it.”

She stared at the book and key. It looked familiar, yet she couldn’t place it.

“Just take a look. I think you may find what you’re searching for.”

“How did you get it?”

“After you left for good, I returned to your house, searching for evidence, trying to figure out who killed your parents. I found this in your father’s study.”

A memory from her childhood rushed back. She’d been outside playing in the sun when she’d decided to go and see if her father wanted to push her on the swing. He’d glanced up as he shut the very book in her hands. When she’d asked him what it was, he’d blown her off. In her rush to leave, she’d forgotten about it. What could possibly be in there that was so important for her father to hide? What did Ryant mean when he said she’d find what she was searching for? And what the hell was he even doing with
her
father’s book?

Shooting him a disgusted look, Kris slipped the book and key from his hands. Just for a brief second she traced her fingers over the indentions and envisioned her father doing the same. As she touched the latch, eagerness to find out what was concealed within flooded through her.

“I thought you should have it, and I hope it will mend things.”

“Thank you.” What other words could she say? Despite the fact he had it all this time, something they would discuss later, he’d brought her a piece of her family history.

“You’re welcome.” Ryant walked to the office door to leave, then turned and looked back. “Kris. Please return to your home soon and stay there.”

Absentmindly, she nodded. Darin didn’t move or speak as he watched Ryant take his leave.

Sinking back into her chair, she untied the worn twine wrapping the leather-bound book before unlocking the latch. She hesitated over the final turn and looked at Darin.

He’d moved until he stood at her side, peering over her shoulder. “What do you think is inside?”

“I don’t know, but we’re about to find out.” She closed her eyes and exhaled.

She opened her eyes and with a twist of her wrist, unlocked her family’s book, flipping to the first page and staring at her father’s familiar and loving handwriting. Tears welled and threatened to fall. A family tree dated back to the beginning of her kind was etched in black over old, brown weathered paper.

For hours, she studied the names before her. Her family was next in line for the Throne, which she knew, but didn’t know she was the only living member due to her blood. That left her little choice but that didn’t mean she would accept, even as the prophecy came to mind.

Well past midnight, a familiar name appeared on the list. Vanessa Adams. Could it be the same Vanessa Adams written on the piece of paper Josh had given her? She dragged her forefinger down the tree under Vanessa’s name and found…Stanley Adams. Interesting.

She heard Darin yawn. He’d gone back to his chair and dozed. “Have you found anything?”

Had she? “I think so. We need to go home and sleep then get up early. We have a big day tomorrow.”

A hell house kind of day.

23

The next morning, the sun had barely crept into her room before Kris sprang into action. The first thing she grabbed was a pair of camouflage jeans with plenty of pockets which she filled with gadgets she would need for her scavenger hunt for the day. Everything from picklocks to deer-skinning knives. The weight pulled down the pockets but she didn’t care. This time, she’d be ready.

She threw on a black tank and finished the look with combat boots and her ponytail stuck through the backside of the camo hat.

Ready to go, she and Darin traveled to the hell house with her .40 securely strapped to her side. Kris parked the car in front of the iron gate. Reaching into the backseat, she withdrew a machete.

Darin looked around at the bushes smashing the sides of the car.

“That’s why I brought the machete,” she replied.

“I see. Damn, looks like no one has lived here for years.”

“Wait until you see the backyard.”

He quirked a brow. “What’s in the backyard?”

“A cemetery.”

“Creepy.”

“Very. Now come on.”

They got out, and she slashed the vines making a trail. She figured Darin wouldn’t be able to hop the fence like she could so she pulled out the lock picks and unlocked the gate then pushed. The gate barely moved. She shoved harder. The iron creaked with resistance. The hinges echoed around them like shrieking cats.

For a moment, Darin stood still, taking in the view as he scratched his head. “Wow.”

“Stay by me.” She’d explained the situation on the drive over but didn’t think, despite all that he’d seen, he quite believed her. He’d find out she wasn’t lying.

Kris peered in the goddess statue direction. A memory of the Soulscapes at Rita’s apartment pointing those damn spears in her face crashed back, and she shivered. Thank the gods, she had Darin with her to keep an eye out for the bastards.

Even as she climbed the stairs dead center between the gargoyles, she eyed them with caution. Damn Soulscapes. She pressed her finger to her lips, gesturing for Darin to stay quiet. Crouched low, with him mimicking her, she crept to a window on the porch and duck walked. He gave a low grunt as he tried to pull his legs forward into the position. The wind blew, filtering a damp marsh scent around them.

She peeked inside and got an eyeful of the stuffed scarecrow guy. Even as she held back a squeak of protest, a heebie jeebie chill ran under her clothes, raising the fine hair on her arms. Icy sweat broke out, normally impossible in the sweltering Louisiana heat. She pointed at the front. Darin abandoned the duck walk and sidled to the door. He slid his back up the wood planks and stood.

After she pulled out the pick wallet, she found the right picks for the door and worked her magic. She held her breath. A click sounded, and the door unlocked. She blew the trapped air out. With as much silence as she could manage, she pushed the door inward. It creaked, but not like the iron gate.

Poking her head inside, she listened and heard nothing but the whoosh of the wind through cracks and breaks. She motioned for Darin to follow.

“Where do we go from here?” he whispered.

“This way.”

As soon as they entered the drawing room, he stopped and stared at the scarecrow on the couch with rods sticking out of its chest.

“If you don’t believe in it, it won’t hurt you.”

“Oh, I believe. We need to get out of here,” he said.

Like she didn’t know that already. She came to find some information, and information she would find. When she surveyed the room and bookshelves, she spied nothing. Maybe the desk in the corner would have something. A pile of papers lying on the center of the desk with the name Adams caught her attention. How freaking easy was that?