Stricken (The War Scrolls Book 1) (8 page)

One railing had disappeared. Rusted nails poked from the exposed wood. Aubrey climbed the broken steps, placing her feet carefully to avoid breaking a leg on the rotting wood.

“This place should be torn down,” she muttered when the wood groaned and shivered beneath Killian’s weight.

The warrior grunted his agreement, holding out a hand to help her over the missing top step. Aubrey hesitated for a long moment, staring into the darkened doorway. Shadows had already overtaken the porch, plunging the house beyond into total blackness. The thought of going inside sent chills racing up her spine.

“You’ll be safe,” Killian promised.

Aubrey wasn’t so sure about that, but she took his hand and let him pull her onto the porch anyway. As usual, his touch felt like little fires scorching her.

She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, allowing him to lead the way.

***

Aubrey trembled at Killian’s back, her body brushing his with each step she took. Every touch felt like pulses of electricity against his skin. He gritted his teeth, fighting for calm when the heat radiating from her made him feel anything but cool and collected. Her nearness unnerved him for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely.

Dishonor lay around that particular bend.

Killian shined the flashlight around the hall, looking for anything he and his blade-brothers might have missed. Blood splatters dotted the old floor here and there where they’d dripped from the dead shifter. Rats and bugs skittered along behind the walls, heard but not seen. Graffiti had been slapped onto the dirty plaster, human signs blaring allegiance to one foolish group or another.

Aubrey stayed right behind him as he made his way through the decaying house, searching each room. Aside from the trash scattered throughout, Killian found nothing. Well…nothing to explain why the shifters had drawn her here, anyway.

Had they meant to do so? Or had fear led her here?

He didn’t know, but the fact the Elioud had been able to lead her away from the hospital in the first place alarmed him.

Was the virus mutating already?

Sweet Heaven, he hoped not.

The room where they’d killed the third shifter looked as if a bomb had gone off. The floor had completely fallen away in places, leaving jagged bits of wood around gaping holes. Blood stained the walls in a dark spray. The stench of death and decay lay heavy in the air, as if the disease had polluted all it touched.

“What happe—?” Aubrey started and then stopped. “Oh,” she murmured, her voice weak. She shuddered, her body pressing firmly to Killian’s for a moment.

He closed his eyes, steeling himself against the sensation of electricity crackling along his spine before she righted herself. When she did, he cast one last look around the room but saw nothing that would have drawn the Elioud here.

Whatever they’d been doing, they hadn’t intended to bring her here.

Killian bit back a frustrated sigh, unsure why he’d hoped for some sort of answer where there clearly was none.

“Come on,” he murmured when Aubrey shivered again.

Her soft sigh of relief seemed to echo in the corners as they turned and began to pick their way back through the house.

“Does it bother you?” Aubrey asked when they stepped through the front door and out into the cool night air.

The sun had disappeared behind the horizon, plunging the city into darkness once more. Streetlights lined the sidewalk, more broken than not. The few that still worked cast little pools of light in circles too narrow to illuminate much.

“Does what bother me?” Killian asked, making his way down the porch. He turned to offer Aubrey his hand only to find her right on his heels.

“All the killing,” she said, casting a quick glance at him before she turned to make her way toward the street, her arms once more wrapped around herself.

“It is what it is.” He shoved the flashlight into his pocket before following after her.

They walked in silence for a long moment, doubt and disbelief rolling from Aubrey in a thick cloud. Killian fought the urge to tell her the truth. Part of him wanted to lay the burden he carried at her feet, tell her how weary he’d grown of death and destruction. Even before
La Morte Nera
, the hunt had become tiresome. But he was a Warrior of Light. He’d knelt at the feet of the Dominion and pledged to keep to the ways of the Fallen, to protect humanity and his kin with vigilance and honor. And she was just a girl. A beautiful human girl.

What right did he have to burden her with his weariness?

“How did you know where to find the Elioud?” she asked as they turned to retrace their steps to the hospital.

The change of subject relieved Killian. “Dom’s police scanner,” he answered. “A human saw them in wolf form and thought they were rabid dogs. She called the police. We tracked them from there—though, we were expecting one or two. Not four.”

“How do you track them?”

“Scent, experience.” Killian shrugged a shoulder. “The Fallen have a bond with their kin. We can sense them as if they’re connected to us. The Elioud are harder to track than the others, but not by much. When we get close, we feel them well enough.”

“I don’t understand,” Aubrey admitted.

Killian thought about how best to explain it. “When you were little, did you ever tie two cans to a string and try to talk through them?”

She bobbed her head. “Yes, Aaron and I did that all the time.”

“Think of it like that. When we’re close to the Fallen-kin, we sense them as if they’re on the other end of that string, holding the aluminum can.” He paused. “And if that doesn’t work, they have a certain scent we can follow. It’s distinct.”

She bit her lip, looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and then away. “Can you sense me that way?”

“Now that I know your scent, yes. Before that? No. You smell completely human.” He frowned. There was something else there too. Something that drew him to her, but he didn’t even know how to begin describing it. It wasn’t like the bond between the Fallen and their kin. It was a visceral feeling, as if he could close his eyes and point her out in a crowd. He wasn’t sure what that meant, though, so he didn’t bother bringing it up.

“Oh.”

Killian glanced at her. “You’re taking all of this quite well.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” She laughed, the sound hard and bitter. “It’s not like falling apart will get me anywhere.”

“You’re stronger than you think you are,” Killian murmured, impressed once more by her quiet strength. Most humans would have broken, but not this little Elioud girl. How could he not admire that?

“What’s next?” she asked instead of commenting—though, a faint blush crept into her cheeks, staining them a lovely rose color.

“Next?” Killian thought for a moment and then shrugged. “Next I take you home,” he said when no other answer came to him.

Chapter Seven

By the time they made it back to Aubrey’s home, she could barely hold her eyes open. Killian followed behind her, his hands shoved into his pockets to keep him from reaching out to steady her when she stumbled.

“You can have the couch,” Aubrey offered, yawning.

Killian glanced at the sofa and then shook his head. With exhaustion winding through him, the simple couch appeared more comfortable than his own bed, and he couldn’t afford to sleep deeply. “I’ll take the chair.”

Aubrey stared at him for a moment, opened her mouth as if to argue, and then shrugged. “Whatever. I’m going to shower.”

She reached out for her little kitten, who’d curled up on the arm of the sofa during their absence. The cat purred loudly and then cuddled into Aubrey’s chest, a yawn cracking his jaws.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” she said, not lifting her head from the animal. “I’ll be fine. Nothing happened when you left last night.”

“I didn’t leave.”

Aubrey jerked her gaze from the kitten, surprise stamped across her face.

“I stayed outside, keeping an eye on things. Dahmiel dropped off the food today.”

Aubrey studied him for a long moment and then frowned slightly and shook her head. “Regardless, you should go home. I’m sure your brothers need you more than I do.”

Killian opened his mouth to answer and then stopped short. The hair at the back of his neck began to rise. A rank odor burned at his nose—a combination of rotting flesh, diseased blood, and layers of filth. He heard the familiar, empty echo an instant before the kitten began yowling in Aubrey’s arms, scrambling for freedom.

“What i—?”

“Move,” Killian shouted as the front door burst open.

A vampire barreled into the apartment, aiming straight for Aubrey. Pus and blood oozed from open wounds as he stumbled forward, snarling wordlessly. Saliva dripped from his fangs, mixing with blood from his dry, cracked lips.

Killian dove in front of Aubrey, positioning himself to take the impact of the vampire’s lurching dash toward them. The demon hit him hard, slamming him into the wall. It splintered, shards of plaster and wood gouging at his skin before the pieces snapped in half.

He leapt to his feet as soon as the vampire’s momentum stopped dragging him backward, his knee connecting with the vampire’s stomach as the demon opened his mouth to speak.

Reaching into his sleeves to grab his blades, Killian spun. He plunged one knife into the demon’s neck, turning twisted speech into a bloody gurgle. He knew what the vamp was trying to say, though. Aubrey’s name still echoed in his broken mind.

The vampire jerked sideways, causing Killian to slip. The blade in his other hand stabbed deeply into his palm. The silver burned as it sliced through his flesh, but the wound was the least of Killian’s concerns.

The vampire reached out toward Aubrey. His lips formed her name again.

She yelped as Killian grabbed the hilt of the knife and tore it from his palm before stabbing it into the vamp’s throat alongside his other knife, nearly decapitating the creature. Diseased blood splattered as Killian leaped as far backward as possible, curling his sliced hand into a fist to keep any of the infected blood from entering the gash on his palm.

The vampire twitched once and slid down the wall.

Aubrey’s kitten continued to yowl in terror as blood splashed across Killian’s shirt.

He jerked it off quickly, shredding the fabric in his haste to get it away from his skin.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered when the shirt tangled.

“Killian!” Aubrey cried out and then jerked him backward.

His already precarious footing gave.

He toppled over as the vamp’s fangs clamped together where his leg had been.

Aubrey grabbed one of the knives still in the demon’s throat and plunged it into the thing’s chest.

The vampire gurgled, blood spurting from the gaping hole in his neck, and then lay still.

Shocked silence followed for a heartbeat before the kitten began yowling again.

Terror stole the color from Aubrey’s cheeks as she stared down at the demon, horror flashing in her green eyes. Killian flipped to his feet and dragged her into his arms. Her entire body shook, trembling so hard she looked like a little tree buffeted by strong winds. But she didn’t cling to him or cry. She burrowed willingly into his embrace and looped her arms around his waist, offering comfort as much as she took it.

The desire to kiss her rose swiftly.

He pushed it savagely aside. “Do you recognize him, Aubrey?” he asked, gritting his teeth at the way her heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings against his chest.

She shook her head.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m…yes, I’m sure.”

“You’re not staying here any longer. You have sixty seconds to grab what you need,” he told her, pushing her gently toward her bedroom.

She spun on her heel and ran into the room without argument.

Killian watched only long enough to ensure she moved quickly—and she did, tearing things out of the closet and grabbing for a bag all at the same time—before pulling the dagger from its sheath at his ankle and decapitating the vampire before it decided to get up and continue fighting.

Gruesome deed done, he threw the dagger down and crossed the room in two strides to pluck the terrified kitten from beneath the coffee table. It went crazy at once, hissing and clawing and fighting like a hellcat.

“Hush,” Killian commanded, holding it at eye level, well away from his face. “You’re coming with us, so behave.”

He turned to the bedroom to yell for Aubrey, but she was already running toward him, shoving clothes into a black bag as she circled wide around the carnage littering her living room floor. Killian grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the front door. He sensed only humans near, but he wasn’t exactly counting on his Talent anymore.

He hadn’t sensed the vampire until the thing was on top of them.

Killian pushed Aubrey out into the hall and slid the lock home before snapping the key off inside to temporarily bar anyone from entering. Aubrey’s neighbors would be safe until he and his brothers could remove the vampire inside.

Zee clawed at his chest, trying to get to Aubrey as they hurried down the hallway.

Killian cursed and plucked the bag from her arms before depositing the hellcat in its place.

“Zee!” she cried, hugging the terrified animal to her chest.

The kitten calmed almost instantly, burrowing into her arms and mewling into her neck.

“Stairs?” Killian demanded, gritting his teeth against the pain in his hand. The injury wasn’t severe, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable, either. Silver burned like a bitch. The wound felt as though someone had poured sulfuric acid into it.

Aubrey pointed to her door. “What about the—? We can’t leave him there!”

“I broke the key off in the door so no one can get in, but we’ve got to get out.
Before
something else shows up.” He didn’t add that it probably would anyway. Whatever doubts he’d had about whether the infected were truly after Aubrey were gone now. The girl was in one hell of a mess. No need to frighten her any more than absolutely necessary, though. Not right now.

She hesitated for a moment and then nodded and darted down the hallway.

Killian sighed in silent thanks that she didn’t argue and raced after her. He prayed they’d make it out before something else really did show up. He was out of weapons since he’d had to leave his bloody knives behind, and if he had to go hand-to-hand right now, only Heaven knew what would happen.

He didn’t intend to stick around to find out.

That’d been too close as it was.

Aubrey started for the elevator.

“Stairs,” he said, unwilling to stand around and wait for the elevator to arrive.

Aubrey darted toward the opposite side of the hall and jerked the door to the stairwell open so hard it slammed into the wall. He caught it with his foot before the force of the swing could slam it shut. Aubrey hurried through, grabbing his wrist as she went.

As one, they pounded down the stairs. She tripped and skidded along but didn’t stop.

They burst through the door into the lobby within minutes and slowed to a fast walk. The night doorman poked his head out of the little booth. Spotting Aubrey, he stepped out.

Killian cursed under his breath but slowed as they neared him.

“Everything okay?” he asked her, taking in Killian’s shirtless state and the dark, wet stains on his jeans. The guard gaped as his gaze flickered between the blood dripping from Killian’s hand and the splatters across Aubrey’s T-shirt.

Killian frowned at him, daring him to say anything. He was not in the mood for nosy humans.

“Yes, but my friend cut himself,” Aubrey lied, her voice almost steady. “I’m taking him to get clean clothes and then to the doctor. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Please tell Larry I decided to take Zee with me.”

“Of course.” The man turned to her, eyes wide as Killian continued to glare at him.

“I’ll see you soon, John.”

John nodded and backed into the guard booth.

“Dammit,” Killian muttered.

As soon as they made it outside, the man would be calling Aubrey’s aunt and probably the police too. Nothing Killian could do about that now, though, he decided, following Aubrey out the doors and into the parking lot.

He glanced up as she clambered into his car and swore under his breath again. Storm clouds had turned the night sky an ominous silver. Within an hour, any trail the vampire might have left would be gone, washed away by one of the city’s notorious spring thunderstorms. He cursed again and climbed into the car, slamming the door behind him.

His hand throbbed in protest, pulling a hiss from his lips.

“What’s wrong?” Aubrey asked, looking up from the kitten with frightened eyes.

“Nothing,” he lied, revving the engine before speeding from the lot. He gritted his teeth, fighting the pain radiating from his palm. “There’s a cell phone in the glove compartment. I need it.”

Aubrey untangled the kitten from her shirt and reached into the glove compartment to rifle around. Killian held his hand out for the phone when she found it, and immediately wished he had not. The car passed beneath a streetlight, illuminating the deep cut running from his thumb to his pinky.

Aubrey cried out and cradled his hand carefully between her little palms. She stroked one finger across his wrist. “Did he—?” Her voice trembled.

“No, it’s clean,” he said, distracted by her soft touch.

She exhaled, the sound colored with relief. “This is bad, Killian. It needs medical attention.”

“It’ll be fine.” He slammed on the brakes to avoid running a red light.

“I’m not an idiot,” she snapped, reaching into her bag. She rummaged for a minute before pulling out a T-shirt. “Hold still.” She wound it around his hand, her movements gentle.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I’m half-angel, Aubrey. I heal fast. In a couple of hours, the cut will be gone.” He removed his hand from hers when she had the shirt secured over his wound. “Phone, please.”

She opened her mouth as though she wanted to argue, but didn’t. She rolled her eyes, muttered something wholly uncomplimentary, and flipped open the phone. “Who am I calling?”

“Abriel. He’s number one on speed dial.”

Aubrey pushed the button and held the phone up to her ear. She waited a moment and then frowned. “It’s not doing anything.”

“I know.” Killian jerked his head toward the stereo as a ring blared from the car speakers. “It’s synced.”

The phone rang again and then again before Abriel answered.

“What’s up?”

“We’ve got a situation.” Killian filled him in on the details, leaving out the fact the vampire had known Aubrey’s name. “We’re going to have to clean it up before the cops walk in and find the mess, and there’s a storm blowing in.”

“Son of a bitch,” Abriel mumbled. “I’ll send Dom to do cleanup. You need to ditch the Mustang.”

Killian considered where to leave the car for a minute, glancing at Aubrey out of the corner of his eye. Unless they masked her scent too, they ran the risk of another infected demon or Elioud shifter hunting her down before the storm rolled in.

“Where do hospital employees park during overnight hours?” he asked her.

“In the employee lot.”

“Where’s that?”

“West side,” she answered.

“Where your car is at?”

She nodded.

“Meet us in the west lot of St. Jude’s,” Killian repeated to his blade-brother. Though he didn’t relish the thought of leading demons to a hospital full of human children, he didn’t see another choice. Her scent would be easier to hide in the area since she’d been all over it in the last two days. That should keep the infected from breathing down their necks until the storm hit, though it pissed him off that he and his brothers would be as unable to track the infected as they would Aubrey.