The Chosen Sin (35 page)

“I loved once and when it ended—” Daria broke off. She couldn't tell this to Ari.

“It hurt?”

Hurt
was far too mild a word.

Ari nodded and continued. “You put your love into someone else and trust them to carry it carefully, like a fine china vase. But you know that if they trip, if they shatter it, after you've put the pieces back together you'll just end up giving it to someone else again.” Ari shrugged. “That's the nature of love. It's a beautiful insanity.”

Daria stared wide-eyed into the darkness, absorbing what Ari had said. Truth glimmmered there, a truth that was uncomfortable and made places low within her ache. Made parts of her psyche cold with fear.

When Daria didn't reply, Ari added, “You have to love like you've never been hurt, because life won't be worth much if you don't.” She paused. “Are you all right, Valerie?”

Daria was saved from having to reply by the reemergence of Alejandro through the front door. He sank down onto the couch opposite her, giving no indication he'd discussed anything of importance with Sante.

“You look cold, Valerie,” said Alejandro with a grin. “Come over here and sit near me.”

That was sneaky. Daria hesitated, but in her role she had to go over. She moved to sit beside him and he put his arm around her. Daria breathed in the scent of him—the spiciness of his soap and the indefinable aroma that was simply Alejandro.

Together the three of them made small talk and relaxed on the comfortable furniture, while above them the universe exploded with shimmering light. After an hour, Ari laid her head down and fell asleep.

Daria fought the fatigue that threatened to pull her under as well. Sleeping was not an option. Both she and Alejandro had to stay alert, even though this visit felt far more like pleasure than business.

The alarm on the door buzzed, jarring all of them from their states of relaxation.

Daria rose and went to check the security screen by the side of the door. She pressed the Receive button and one of the guards' faces outside popped onto the screen.

“I have a Chosen here named Brandon Nichols who says it's urgent he talk with you and Alejandro. I won't let him through the perimeter until you give the okay.”

Daria frowned at the screen for a moment, wondering what the hell Brandon could want in the middle of the damn night when they were at Christopher Sante's house. It had to be important for him to be doing this.

She pressed the Send button. “He's all right. You can let him through.”

This had better be good.

A few moments later Brandon parked his bike outside. He stepped into the foyer with a smile and a greeting on his lips. “Where's the woman?” he asked in a low voice.

“
The woman
is in the living room with Alejandro. What's the deal, Brandon. Why are you here?”

“It's important, or I wouldn't have come. It's too important even for mental pathways, that's why I came in person. Is there anyone else in the house?”

“No. Listen, just tell me what you came to say and get out.”

“Okay.” Brandon pulled a long, sharp knife from his sleeve and sliced her throat.

26

THE tip grazed her skin, sending white-hot pain through her. Her blood gushed. The only reason he hadn't slit her throat clear through was that she'd been backing away from him at the time, unwilling to share personal space with him.

She gasped and held her neck, feeling her hot blood well. Her mind whirled fast and hard at the sudden turn of events. Instinct and training taking over, she turned and threw her booted foot back with the intention of catching Brandon's wrist. She connected and the knife sailed out of his hands and slid across the floor of the foyer.

Then Alejandro was there, drawn by the scent of blood and the commotion. He sailed past her with a snarl and slammed into Brandon. Together they hit the front door and rolled to the floor, fangs extended.

Blood coursed down the front of Daria's shirt, soaking the material with her warm life's essence. Perhaps the slice had been deeper than she'd thought. She took a staggering step backward, holding her throat, and Ari appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Valerie!” Ari gasped.

Daria waved her back. “Get back, Ari! Get away from here.” Her voice sounded strange and her throat was now going from numb shock to sharp, blooming pain.

She had no time to wonder if Ari had obeyed her or not because Brandon slammed his elbow into Alejandro's head and wrenched himself free. Alejandro fell back heavily against the wall and lay still.

Daria spotted the cool glint of a blade on the floor near her feet and saw Brandon also glimpse it. She dove to the floor, catching up the handle. Brandon's heavy body landed on her a moment afterward.

He grasped her wrist, holding the knife she wielded to the floor, and straddled her waist, pinning her immobile beneath him.

“I always wanted to get you into a position like this,” he murmured.

She punched his gut as hard as she could, struggling for upward traction so she could target his throat and eyes. He calmly reached down with his free hand and closed his hand around her throat—and squeezed.

Her legs kicked out and her eyes bulged. Brandon was strong, much stronger than she was as a newling Chosen. Her throat compressed, cutting off her air so that she couldn't even gasp.

The slice on her throat still bled, now made worse from Brandon's grip. The pain was nothing compared to the choking sensation. She dug her nails into his forearms in an effort to dislodge his grasp out of a purely desperate panic to live. Rationality flickered and she punched her hands upward, gouging at his eyes.

At the same time, Alejandro regained consciousness, grabbed Brandon from behind, and wrenched him off her. Daria rolled to the side, gulping huge amounts of air. It tasted like the finest wine.

Furniture crashed, and the two men grunted as they fought. As soon as Daria could function, she pushed up to see Brandon fleeing out the front door, Alejandro close on his heels.

“Ari!” she cried hoarsely.

Ari appeared at the top of the stairs, pale and shaking. “I contacted Christopher right away. He should be here any minute.”

Daria pushed to her feet and headed out the door, giving tense, staccato instructions as she went. “Find a weapon. Lock yourself in a room right now. Don't come out. I'm sending guards in.”

Not waiting for a reply, she ran outside and glimpsed the back end of Alejandro's bike as he sped after Brandon.

She grabbed up her own bike, jumped on, and kick-started it. The engine purred to life and she was off.

Guards were already arriving at the house, saving her time since she didn't have to instruct them. She had no doubt Sante would be there shortly. Ari would be protected.

Her mind raced as fast as her dune bike as she pushed the vehicle to catch up with Brandon.

Damn, they'd both been blindsided!

Brandon had set the bomb at Sante's house. He'd been gunning for Ari Templeton all along. All the pieces started to fall into place—why he'd wanted them to get him into the inner circle so badly, why he'd wanted to move on the carmin right away and forget the blood slaves.

Daria would bet any amount that he'd been paid by Richard Templeton to murder Ari, for what reason she could only guess. Perhaps to further his agenda against the Chosen? Perhaps to silence her on some issue he was afraid she'd talk about? Pure, unadulterated hatred? The possibilities were endless, but it was clear now that Brandon's only objective from the start had been to gain close proximity to Ari so he could kill her.

He'd intended to do to her and Alejandro what Sante had done to Julia and the guards all those years before. He'd taken advantage of the trust he'd built to surprise them and kill them. If Daria hadn't been feeling uncomfortable with Brandon's come-ons and hadn't been backing away from him a little when he'd slashed at her throat, he might have succeeded in his goal.

She was alive out of pure luck.

She touched her throat. The blood there was sticky and hot, but had stopped flowing. That was one bit of good news at least.

Her bike sped past the guards going the other direction. She dodged trees and bushes, coming up fast on Alejandro, who was right behind Brandon. Brandon suddenly directed his bike straight upward, toward the diamond-strewn expanse above.

For a moment her mind fumbled, then she realized what Brandon must be trying to do.

She opened a pathway with Alejandro.
He's going to try and time his exit for when the security grid snaps off while the dome is closing.
She'd shared that information with Brandon and Alejandro, thinking it was pertinent they both know.

She had no watch, but it had to be soon.
Sante said it would happen at three a.m., when the peak of the asteroid shower was over.

Alejandro answered in a low growl inside her head.
An experienced GBC agent can shoot them easily enough. Daria, let's break this bastard's wings.

Sounded good to her.

He shifted his angle upwards, above Brandon's bike, and she did the same. They had to keep him away from the slit in the dome, where he was angling his bike.

Together they arched above his bike and then angled downward in a synchronized move, forcing Brandon to change direction. Brandon tried to swerve from side to side, but every time either she or Alejandro intercepted him. They herded him like a wayward cow, toward the ground. They'd entered a desertlike section of the dome and Darpongese sand covered the ground below them.

From their left came a flash of silver and black. Sante rocketed toward them, headed straight for Brandon.

Sante's bike slammed into his, forcing both Daria and Alejandro to disengage and fly in opposite directions. Sante grabbed Brandon from his bike, and they plummeted like mating birds toward the ground while their unpiloted vehicles crashed and toppled end over end, transforming into chunks of mangled metal.

Below her, Sante and Brandon also made hard landings in the sand, where they both lay stunned and sprawled.

She swerved her bike around and dove in. Alejandro did the same. By the time they'd set back down on terre firma, Sante had recovered and pinned Brandon to the ground.

“Who hired you?” Sante growled, every muscle in his powerful body taut with murderous intent.

“I don't have to tell you anything,” Brandon spat.

Sante opened his mouth, showing sharp fangs. He hovered over him for a moment, then struck like a snake. The flesh of Brandon's shoulder tore.

Brandon bellowed in agony. “Okay! Okay! I'll tell you everything.” Hadn't taken much to convince him.

Sante disengaged his fangs—making Brandon yelp—and lifted his gaze, his eyes hooded. His lips curled back, giving Brandon a clear view of his most impressive weapon. Those weapons were already soaked with Brandon's blood.

Sante was only seconds away from losing control and killing him. That was clear from the cold sheen in the killer's eyes and his aggressive body language.

Brandon probably didn't know it, but Daria did—he wasn't getting out of this alive.

Brandon's breathing sounded labored and his eyes shone with fear. “When Richard Templeton learned I'd been assigned to work this case, he offered me money to kill his daughter.” Brandon laughed. “Templeton bloody well set me up for life. He said do it any way I wanted, just make sure she died and no one knew who'd done it. Templeton knew if he accused you of the murder the entire universe would back him since you were already suspected of kidnapping her. He wanted to use her death to gain sympathy for his cause.”

Alejandro took two threatening steps forward.
“You fucking bastard.”
Daria put a hand on his arm to hold him back.

“I threw the bomb at the house from the other side of the fence, but the attempt failed. I couldn't get close enough to off her any other way,” Brandon continued. “Tonight was my only opportunity.”

Sante ripped out his throat.

Daria had seen lots of violence in her life, but this sudden and primal act made even her take a step back. Brandon made a sick, gurgling sound and then fell silent.

Sante bowed his head over the body for a moment, blood dripping from his fangs and mouth, his shoulders hunched. It was almost a position of regret, remorse, but then he lifted his head and fixed his gaze on Daria. In his eyes glowed savage bliss. He'd enjoyed what he'd just done with every fiber of his being.

Sante's mouth, neck, and throat were covered in blood and gore. Death smeared him, making his expression brutal in the starlight. “I know who you are, Daria,” he growled.

27

ICY shock shot through her body at his words.

Alejandro immediately moved into a position to defend her, in front, but slightly to the side so she could still see Sante. “Back off,” he warned. “You touch her and I'll gut you.”

Sante never moved his gaze from Daria's face. “Calm down, Alejandro. I have no intention of harming her. Don't you think I would've before now, if I wanted that?”

“What
do
you want, Sante?” Daria asked.

His expression darkened. “To not have to deal with you, Daria. To not have to kill you. I am sincere in my wish to not hurt you. I have already done enough of that.”