Redemption (23 page)

His words are abrupt and straight to the point.
 
As William’s face returns to its sullen expression, Fane feels a pinch of regret. It must be hard being the only true human in the room.
 
The hunters don’t count.
 
They are lethal, highly trained warriors.
 
William is just a high school runaway whose addiction to TV and girls is sorely lost in the arctic.

Perhaps he should speak with Claudia.
 
She certainly seemed to have a soft spot for the boy.
 
Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have her distract him long enough for them to prepare for battle, hopefully without getting him maimed or killed.
 
She would certainly be a better option for him than Daelyn.
 
Her flirting has crushed more hearts over the years than he cares to count.

Nicolae hardly notices when Grigori stands beside him and exits the room.
 
Fane frowns, annoyed with the boy’s lack of action.
 
Nicolae either needs to let Sadie go or yank her into the armory and bar the door for an hour.

Fane slips out of the room, careful to close the door softly behind him.
 
Grigori waits further down the passage, just outside the arch of the flickering hall light.
 
“Something on your mind?”

Grigori nods and motions for Fane to follow him, and they walk in silence.
 
Grigori passes a series of small square rooms with cots lining the walls.
 
This is the hunter’s section of the compound.
 
Fane frowns as they move beyond, toward the main meeting room.

Grigori holds the door open for Fane, who passes him and perches on the edge of the long rectangular table.
 
“This seems a bit private.”

“I thought you might prefer the seclusion, considering what I have to say.”
 
Grigori seals the door behind him and moves around to the other side of the table.
 
He draws back a chair and motions for Fane to sit as well.

Fane’s frown deepens as he sinks down onto the hard metal chair.
 
“If this is about Nicolae and Sadie, I want no part of it.
 
I’ve already given him my advice.
 
If he chooses to take it, so be it.”

Grigori waves him off.
 
He leans forward, steepling his fingers before him.
 
“This is about Roseline.”

Goosebumps race along Fane’s bare arms, chilling him far more than the winds that beat against the compound.
 
“What about her?”

“We found her.
 
I received word just before dinner.
 
I wanted confirmation before I said anything to you.”

Fane’s hands clench the table’s edge.
 
The metal groans in protest as it begins to mold to his fingers.
 
“Where is she?”

“London.
 
Torrent
actually.”

He blinks, struggling to process the information.
 
“That doesn’t make any sense.
 
She would never go there.
 
Not on purpose.”

“There is more…”

Fane holds his breath as Grigori leans back in his chair.
 
He stares hard at Fane, no doubt weighing how much this information might cost him.
 
“She’s in bad shape.
 
My informant said she arrived at his door looking like a cat dragged backward through a meat grinder.

He pause, rubbing his hand down his arm.
 
Fane can tell his news bothers him.
 
“There was a guy with her too.”

A tremor begins to build in Fane’s chest.
 
“Malachi?”

Grigori nods.
 
“We’ve been chasing him for years.
 
He’s a slippery one, always managing to sneak away at the last moment.
 
I’d like nothing more than to get my hands on him.”

“There won’t be much left of him after I catch him,” Fane growls.
 
His lips peel back as he bares his teeth.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” Grigori smiles.
 

Fane starts to rise, conscious only of the need to get to Roseline, but Grigori holds up his hand.
 
“There’s more that you need to hear.”

Fane sinks down, reluctant to waste any more time.
 
“My informant says someone is looking for her.
 
He’s paying top dollar for anyone who finds her.”

“Who?”

Grigori levels Fane with an even stare.
 
“Lucien.”

Fane flinches.
 
His stomach twists as he shakes his head. “So it is true?
 
I had hoped Sadie was wrong.”

Grigori nods.
 
“As did we, but it has been confirmed.”

“It won’t take Lucien long to track her down.”
 
Fane lurches to his feet, staggering as he begins to pace.
 
“I have to go after her.”

“She isn’t the same girl you knew, Fane.”

He looks up, his chest feeling empty of all but rage.
 
“What do you mean?”

“She’s changing.
 
I don’t know into what, but it’s not pretty.
 
My informant said it looks like she is starting to grow…scales.”

“Oh, god.”
 
Fane leans to the side, clutching his stomach as it rolls violently.
 
He feels faint and feverish at the same time.
 
Color drains from his hands as he pushes himself back upright, wiping his mouth to try to ease the foul taste within.

“Is Lucien definitely behind the attacks?”

Grigori nods.
 
“We believe so.
 
My men are already searching for him.
 
They think he is based out of London.”

“How do you know that?”

The hunter grimaces as he drops his gaze.
 
“Because there is no way Roseline could have survived a long trip.”

Fane sucks in a deep breath, fighting for a calm he fears he will never feel again.
 
“I’m going after her.”

Grigori stands.
 
“My men need to be here.
 
I’m afraid I can’t offer you any assistance.”

“I understand.
 
I appreciate you telling me this more than you know.”
 
He manages a weak smile.
 
“I will take Nicolae with me.”

“No.”
 
Grigori holds out his hand.
 
“I think that would be unwise right now.
 
In your absence it might be…difficult to keep everyone in line.
 
Nicolae may be young, but the hunters respect his birthright.
 
If both of you leave, I don’t know what might happen here.”

“Sadie is too vulnerable.
 
I can’t take her with me.”
 
Fane frowns, hearing the truth in the man’s words.
 
He straightens his shoulders, making a decision.
 
“I will go on my own.”

The hunter smiles as he rounds the table.
 
It’s a tight smile, but present none the less.
 
When he holds out his hand, Fane hesitates.
 
“Go on.
 
It’s not going to bite.”

Fane smirks as he clasps Grigori’s hand.
 
“Never thought I’d see the day.”
 

“Me either.
 
Maybe Nicolae’s idea of truce really isn’t so crazy after all.”

Nineteen

A
s William cowers behind him, Fane second guesses himself for the millionth time as to how Sadie managed to talk him into bringing her brother along.
 
William is the last person who should be going into Torrent
.

When he hears the clomping of heavy footfalls approaching the exterior door, he places a warning hand on William’s arm.
 
“Don’t say a word.”

William nods, swallowing loudly.
 
Fane stifles another sigh.
 
This is going to be a disaster.

The door swings open to reveal a hulking bouncer.
 
The man’s tattoos and bull nose ring are a dead giveaway.
 
“Remember me?”

The immortal nods, unconsciously rubbing his nose ring, just in case Fane might decide to rough him up again.
 
“You came for the girl?”

Fane hesitates for only a second before nodding.
 
How did Castor know why he was here? Is the bouncer the informant?

“Follow me.”
 
Castor turns and heads back into the dark, leaving the door wide open.
 
Fane’s brow furrows at the blatant lapse in security.
 
Even though the club won’t be open for a couple more hours, Torrent
is never left open to the public.

He casts a warning glance back over his shoulder at William and grabs his arm to lead him in.
 
The door squeals on its hinges, slamming shut behind them.
 
William yelps, shaking with nervousness.

“You’ll be fine.
 
I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Fane is not sure if his words reassure the boy, but William says nothing further.
 
Fane isn’t here to babysit.
 
He’s here for Roseline.

The darkness seems to stretch on for an eternity before they finally reach the glowing red light above the door.
 
The familiar scent of stale blood and body odor greets him as he sweeps into the bar.
 
William stumbles over the threshold, too busy trying to take it all in to notice the steps ahead of him.

The bouncer turns and rolls his eyes at William.
 
Fane offers him a tight smile in understanding.
 
“Where is she?”

“Up the stairs.”
 
The guy points behind the bar, but instead of showing them the way, he leans back against a high top table and lights up a cigarette.
 
His hands visibly shake as he takes a puff.
 
Fane’s gaze narrows.
 

“Something the matter?”

“Go up and look for yourself.
 
Never seen anything like it.”
 
His voice quakes as he takes another drag.
 
He reaches out, shaking his finger at Fane.
 
“I hope you’re good for the money.
 
My boss won’t take kindly to paying for the damages.”

Fane turns to look back over his shoulder at the bouncer.
 
“You know who she is, right?”

“Yep, but rumor has it Vladimir is gone now.
 
Seems to me the one to be worrying about is Lucien.”

The man’s bald head is slick with sweat and his eyes are dilated with fear.
 
The only problem is, he isn’t afraid of Fane.
 
“Lucien’s back from the dead, man.
 
Haven’t you heard?
 
He’s running things now, and that pretty little thing up there is his pet.
 
No one is allowed to touch her.”
 
He eyes Fane with open suspicion.
 
“Aren’t you one of his guys?”

“No.”
 
Fane points at William.
 
“Anything happens to him while I’m gone and I’ll gut you myself.
 
Nice and slow.
 
Understand?”

“Course.”
 
The beefy immortal rubs the front of his shirt, obviously annoyed.
 
“Wouldn’t touch him, mate.”

“Good.”
 
Fane moves back toward William and leans in close.
 
“You get into any trouble, you shout for me.”

“You’re leaving me here?”
 
William’s voice sounds small and squeaky.
 
His eyes are wide with unrestrained fright.

“Our friend here is going to watch over you for a bit.
 
I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Without waiting to hear William’s protest, he turns and heads into the back room.
 
He hardly notices the gaunt girls lying on the floor of rows of cages.
 
Their scent does nothing for him.
 

When he reaches the bottom the stairs, he pauses to listen.
 
There is no sound above him.
 
This worries him.

Obviously the bouncer is worried about something.
 
Despite the man’s large size, he didn’t get the job by chance.
 
He knows how to hold his own against drunken immortals.
 
Fane is sure he has seen his fair share of ugly scenes.
 

Whatever is at the top of the stairs must be horrible.

Fane climbs silently and quickly.
 
He pauses just outside the door, pressing his ear against the wood.
 
His hearing is excellent, a fact he usually brags about, but today it fails him.
 
There is nothing but complete silence on the other side of the door.

“Roseline?”
 

His call is met by a small scuffling sound.
 
His fingers curl around the door handle and he slowly turns it.
 
Just as he begins to open the door, something big and solid slams against it.
 
Fane rears back, startled.
 
He reaches out for the banister to steady himself.

“It’s me, Fane.
 
Can I come in?”

A second bang against the door.
 
This time it sounds less solid and more…wet.

Fane flings open the door and ducks as a mass of red meat flies across the room at him, smacking against the wall behind him.
 
Fane’s eyes widen with surprise when he turns to see part of a large intestine sliding down the wall.

“What the”

Something cold and moist slams into his chest.
 
He coughs, gagging on the putrid scent of rotting flesh.
 
When he looks up, he finds Roseline crouching across the room, her crazed eyes narrowed on him.

She is covered in crimson.
 
It looks as if she’d actually gone swimming in a pool of thick, oozing blood.
 
Her hair is plastered to her scalp and her naked body is coated in flaking bits of dried blood.
 

“Oh god,” he gasps, taking in the hunch of her shoulders as she leans over her prey.

The body is mangled beyond recognition.
 
The face has been gnawed off completely.
 
Severed limbs encircle Roseline, each cleanly cut away from the torso.
 
Fane can see one hand on the sofa, a foot tossed against the window just above the sink.

Streaks of blood are splashed across the walls.
 
It looks like a gusher left a wide stain on the ceiling overhead.
 
The carpet has soaked up much of the blood from the body.
 
There is a trail leading down the hall and around the corner.
 
She obviously drug the body out here.

“What have you done?” He steps into the room, completely numb.

Roseline grunts at him and plunges her hands back into the meaty flesh.
 
A squelching sound turns his stomach as she lifts something that looks disturbingly like a kidney.
 
He raises his hands.
 
“Now, I know what you’re thinking and that’s a bad idea.”

He ducks just before the object soars over his head.
 
Fane’s right knee buckles as he rolls to the side, coming up just beside the sofa.
 
Roseline stares at him through her matted hair, her gaze cold and unseeing.

“Do you know me?”

No sign of recognition.
 
A low growl begins in her chest and rises to her throat as he moves along the length of the couch.

From there he can see something shiny wrapped around her left hand.
 
It is long and thin, like fishing line or floss.
 
He stops and watches Roseline as she wraps her fingers around the odd string and brings it down onto the corpse, using it to saw through another chunk of meat.

Fane’s stomach lurches as he spies the missing hand.
 
It is adorned by a single ring: a serpent with fiery red eyes.

“Malachi,” he mutters, clutching the back of the couch to remain upright.

Roseline looks back over her shoulder at him.
 
The curve her spine is pronounced, as if she has not eaten in weeks.
 
Her cheeks are sallow and her arms, what little isn’t buried under an inch of blood, appears skeletal.
 
Her skin possesses the slightest hint of green.

“Oh god.”
 
He can feel the shaking in his legs and knows he is about to pass out.
 
Judging by the wild look in her watchful eye, that would be unwise.
 

“Roseline?
 
Can you hear me?”

Her snarl is followed quickly by the gnashing of her teeth.
 
Fane frantically tries to think of a way to get her out of here safely and noiselessly, but he struggles to think.
 
The wild beast before him hardly resembles the girl he knew and loved.
 

Anger boils deep in his chest at the thought of what it took for a transformation like this.
 
He hadn’t known it to be possible, but then again, there was still much of this world that he doesn’t know or understand.
 
What he does know is that Roseline is beginning to resemble one of the Eltat that attacked them outside the Hell Fire caves a couple weeks back.

His gaze sweeps the room for a weapon or anything can be used to subdue her.
 
Judging by the streaks of fresh blood glistening from her chin, she has fed recently which means she will be strong, very strong.
 
Fane scolds himself for not bringing along another immortal to help him.

He’s going to have to take her down on his own, and that will not be an easy task.

Then his gaze falls on something on the kitchen floor, just beyond where Roseline is sitting.
 
Fane leans up onto his toes.
 
Just beneath the broken table he spies Malachi’s head.
 
Small patches of hair have been ripped free.

Frowning, he looks back to Roseline at work.
 
She grunts softly as she lowers the string to the body and begins slicing again.
 
His eyes widen as he realizes what she’s holding.
 
Angel hair.

“Of course,” he whispers, finally putting together the pieces to Malachi’s identity.

She must have known what Malachi was.
 
Only angel hair would be strong enough to sever bone.
 
Fane swallows roughly against the bile rising in his throat.
 
Roseline dismembered Malachi with his own hair.

He closes his eyes for the briefest of moments, silently hoping that the man had been dead before she began cutting into him.

Pure, innocent, lovely Roseline has become the monster she always feared.