The Dark-Hunters (379 page)

It couldn’t be. Surely he was mistaken.…

Susan flipped to another.

“Wait! Go back.”

Susan frowned. “Why?”

He set his own coffee aside and frowned as he examined the picture of a tall blond woman who was dressed as a classic campy Hollywood vampire, complete with all-too-real-looking fangs, standing with her arm around Angie. “I know her.”

Susan gave him a less than pleased glare. “For the record, Puss in Boots, I hope you’re not speaking biblically. Because if you are—”

“No,” he said, interrupting her tirade, even though a part of him was flattered that she felt that way. “She’s a Daimon … or was. I killed her.”

Susan scoffed at him. “Not
her
you didn’t.”

Ravyn looked again and studied the woman’s sharp patrician features. In the back of his mind, he could still see her dressed in a black pair of slacks and a red blouse as he found her standing over her victims. The sight had sickened him as she had wiped the blood from her mouth and laughed about it.

“It was her, I’m sure of it.”

Still Susan had doubt in those blue eyes. “How would you know? Do you memorize the face of every Daimon you snuff out?”

He gave her a droll stare. “No, but I remember her.”

“’Cause she’s a bimbo?”

He shook his head. “Because she didn’t run from me. She actually dared me to kill her. She said that she had a get out of jail free card and that unless I wanted every Dark-Hunter in Seattle to die, I’d leave her alone.”

Susan was unamused by that. “So naturally you just had to kill her.”

If a dry stare could mutilate, she’d be in several pieces on the floor.

“She’d just taken the life of a pregnant woman and her small child outside of a Laundromat. I had to kill her to release those two souls or both of their souls would have died.”

“While fascinating and gross, that can’t be
this
woman.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s the wife of Paul Heilig, the chief of police. And she died in a car wreck in Europe. I saw the photos of it.”

Ravyn went cold at her words as they confirmed his suspicions. “What?”

“You heard me.” She flipped through the pictures until she got to one of the Daimon with two very tall blond men, who were also dressed as Bela Lugosi vampires, and a short, pudgy man with dark hair, highlighted with gray, and glasses, dressed as an explorer. The man appeared to be around the age of fifty, with thinning hair and sharp gray eyes. “That’s her, her sons, and her husband.”

Ravyn narrowed his gaze on them before he looked up at Susan. “Don’t you think it odd that the chief of police is married to a woman who looks to be the same age as her children?”

“Plastic surgery, baby. Some of the best surgeons in the country live right here.”

“Yeah, and so do some of the best Daimons.”

Susan went cold as she stared at the woman, and her emotions sobered. It all made sense now. “It’s just what you said, isn’t it? He married an Apollite who turned Daimon, and now he’s using his position to keep them safe.”

“Except for the wife I killed. No wonder they wanted to torture me in the…” His voice trailed off as he remembered something the half-Apollite vet had said.

“Paul wants to see this one suffer.…”

Since he didn’t know who Paul was, he’d completely forgotten that. But now he understood. Paul was Paul Heilig. Chief of police and father of two Daimon sons.

They were screwed.

“When did you kill her?” Susan asked.

“I don’t know. About two months ago, maybe.”

That was around the same time the chief’s wife had died. Susan remembered the articles about it clearly. No body had been returned to the States for a funeral, but they had held a memorial service for her.

Of course if she was a Daimon, there wouldn’t have been a body to bury. Oddly enough, it made a perfect cover.

Oh jeez, now you’re thinking like Leo.
But then, Leo wasn’t the crackpot she’d taken him for.…

“Do you remember anything about her?”

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “She was a nasty bitch with a mean left hook.”

“Not that,” Susan snapped. “Something that could help us identify her as the chief of police’s wife.”

“The words
get out of jail free card
—”

“Maybe she played a lot of Monopoly. Who knows what weirdness Daimons partake in to pass the time?” At his withering stare she held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, bad stab on my part. Please continue.”

“Couple that with Jimmy’s paranoia that someone high up in his department was covering up murders and disappearances. C’mon, Susan, this is too much to be coincidence.”

“I know I’m playing devil’s advocate here. We have to have concrete proof before we accuse this man of framing us and hiding murders.”

“Susan…,” he said in a chiding tone.

“Look, Ravyn, I already ruined my life because something that looked like a duck and quacked like a duck turned out to be a tiger with an entire battery of attorneys bent on taking everything I might ever own again. All the evidence was there, clear-cut and perfect, and I leaped at it and, in the morning, everything that said he was guilty was just a bad coincidence for me. I don’t want to make that mistake again.” She held up her wrist to show him the scars she still bore. “I
really
don’t want to relive my past.”

Ravyn’s gut clenched at the sight of the scars where she’d cut her wrist. “Susan…”

“Don’t patronize me, okay? I know it was stupid. But I was completely alone. Everything I’d ever believed in caved in on my head and I had to sit through lawsuit after lawsuit until the rubble settled and left me homeless, friendless, and hopeless. I clawed myself up every morning from bed so that I could be kicked again. And then I decided that though I was ruined, I wasn’t dead, and that my life, such as it was, was mine and I refused to let them take that from me, too. I’ve come a long way, but it’s been hard and brutal, and the last thing I want is to accuse an upstanding, highly decorrated official and relive that nightmare all over again. Understand?”

Ravyn’s throat tightened at the pain he heard in her voice, the agony she held in her eyes. He kissed her wrist, and held it in his hand as he locked gazes with her. “You won’t ever relive that, Susan. I promise you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I
can
keep this one. And if I’m wrong, I’ll go down alone with my error. But if we’re right…”

“Jimmy’s avenged.”

*   *   *

Cael had just reached the back door of the happy Hunting Ground when his cell phone started ringing. He pulled it off his belt to see it listing Amaranda’s number. Flipping it open, he held it to his ear. “Yeah, babe?”

“Don’t come home.”

“What?” he said, not sure he’d heard her right with the loud music that was drowning out her voice. He reached for the doorknob.

“Don’t. Come. Home,” she repeated only slightly louder than the last time.

“Is this a joke?” he asked angrily. Amaranda would never tell him not to come home. “If this is you, Stryker, go fuck yourself.” He slammed the phone shut, then opened the door.

As usual, the club was thumping and loud with college kids gyrating on the dance floor and guzzling alcohol at the tables that surrounded it. He inclined his head at Amaranda’s cousin who was waiting tables as he passed by.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Cael closed his eyes and searched the building mentally for any telltale sensation of a Daimon. Nothing set off his radar. Wanting to double-check in case he was still unnerved by the earlier fight, he pulled out his phone and ran the Daimon trace program that was in it.

It, too, came back negative.

Cool, there was nothing here that needed his attention … except his wife.

Cael pulled his thin jacket off and slung it over his shoulder as he descended the stairs to the basement. Looking forward to spending some quality time with Amaranda, he began whistling while he headed for his room.

Until he opened the door.

His whistling stopped mid-tune. Kerri was in his room, bound and gagged. Her eyes were large and terror-filled as she begged him with her gaze to set her free.

And in that instant, he came face-to-face with his past. The pain of it was almost crippling. And most of all, he could feel his Dark-Hunter powers wane.

Was it some kind of joke? If it was, he damn sure didn’t find it funny.

“What the hell’s going on, Kerri?” He’d only taken one step toward her when the door slammed shut behind him.

He jerked around to find a human male there, glaring at him. In his mid-fifties, the pudgy little man had shifty gray eyes that reflected his insanity. “What the hell’s the meaning of this?” Cael demanded.

“Where’s Ravyn Kontis?”

Cael forced himself to betray nothing. “Who?”

“Don’t play stupid with me,” the man snarled, spewing spittle in his rage. “Answer the question.”

“I can’t. I don’t know anyone named Ravyn.”

Disbelief twisted his features. “No?”

“No.”

The man tsked as he moved forward toward Kerri’s chair. “Too bad. I guess I’ll have to kill you and your whore then.” He headed for Kerri, whose eyes widened even more as she started squealing through her gag.

“She’s innocent.”

The man gave him a vicious glare. “No one’s innocent. And even if she was, I don’t give a damn.” He pulled a hunting knife out from his jacket and angled it at Kerri’s throat. “Tell me where that bastard is or watch her die.”

“But I don’t—” He broke off as the man pressed his knife so close that it pricked Kerri’s neck.

She screamed, trying to angle her neck away from the blade.

“Okay, okay,” Cael said, trying to stall for time as his powers weakened even more. But what concerned him most was where had Amaranda gone? Obviously, she was the one who’d called him and this idiot had mixed the two of them up. Even so, if anything happened to Kerri, Amaranda would never forgive him.

Nor would he forgive himself.

And then he felt it … that prickling sensation of a Daimon’s presence.

Only there were two of them.

The door opened and Cael’s entire world shattered. Amaranda was between the two Daimons with her hands tied behind her back. She was pale and shaking as she bled from a wound at her neck.

They’d been feeding from her and by her appearance, they’d almost drained her dry.

“Look who we found trying to warn him, Dad.”

“Damn you!” Cael snarled. Without thinking, he rushed at them.

Even though his powers were all but gone, he caught the first one about the waist and they went sprawling into the hallway. The Daimon didn’t let go of Amaranda, who landed on top of Cael.

He took a second to make sure she was okay before he cut the rope on her hands, then kicked the second Daimon away from them. Growling, Cael reached for the one he’d tackled only to hear a gun firing.

He recoiled as the bullets ripped through his body in rapid succession. The pain of it stole his breath as he bled all over the floor.

The Daimon picked him up and slugged him hard in the jaw. The impact knocked him back into the wall so that the other Daimon could kick him in the stomach.

As the Daimon moved to kick Cael again, he grabbed his leg and shoved him back. The Daimon slipped on Cael’s blood and hit the floor with a thud. He kicked the Daimon in the ribs and turned to grab the other one.

“Freeze, asshole, or I give your little playmate here a bullet in her brain. And since she’s an Apollite, it’ll cut her short life even shorter.”

Cael froze instantly.

“Turn around.”

He did and saw that the older man had Amaranda in front of him with his gun angled at her head. Cael’s heart pounded at the sight of her fear as anger clouded his vision. Damn this bastard for scaring her.

“It’ll be okay, baby.”

“Not if you don’t answer my question.” He cocked the snub-nosed .38 against her temple.

Cael heard Amaranda praying in Atlantean under her breath.

If he gave up Ravyn’s location, they would kill him. If he didn’t, they’d kill Amaranda.

His best friend or his wife. How could he make that call?

“Fine,” the man snarled. “Have it your way.” He started to squeeze the trigger.

“No!” Cael shouted, taking a step forward. “He’s…” He couldn’t say it. He just couldn’t. Having been betrayed, how could he betray someone else?

“Don’t play with me, boy.”

Cael took a deep breath and leveled a sincere look of hatred on the bastard. “He’s at the Last Supper Club in Pioneer Square.”

The man narrowed a doubting gaze on him.

One of the Daimons grabbed Cael by the hair and pulled his head back. “Are you lying to us, Dark-Hunter?”

“No,” he lied with conviction. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“What do you think, Dad?” the Daimon holding him asked the man with the gun.

“He’s either telling the truth or he’s a damn good liar. Since I don’t know which, I think we should keep them alive, just in case.”

Images of his family dying while he’d been powerless to stop their torture ripped through his mind. He looked at Amaranda and her sister and saw the terror in their eyes.

There was no way in hell he would relive that moment. He wasn’t about to let them be tortured in front of him while he was powerless to stop it. And with that thought, the last of his Dark-Hunter powers seeped out of him.

The man tossed a pair of handcuffs at the Daimon, who caught them and snapped one over Cael’s wrist. He swung about and elbowed the Daimon straight in the face.

“Derrick!” the man shouted before he opened fire on Cael again.

Cael refused to stop. He pulled his dagger out and turned to kill the Daimon.

Another gunshot rang out, an instant before Cael felt something sharp and hot pierce his back. It was the knife the man had used to threaten Kerri. Cael knew it the instant the blade didn’t protrude out of the front of his chest. The man twisted the blade sideways and then snapped it off at the hilt to leave the blade buried deep in Cael’s heart.

Cael’s ears buzzed as he tasted his own blood. He heard Amaranda’s screams through the haze as his vision dimmed.