Tory thought her legs would give out. “What? How?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around the possibility that Viola was in danger. Sunny and Viola were supposed to have flown out yesterday. How could he have gotten Viola? And what about Sunny?
“It has to be Pierre.” She hated to admit it but she couldn’t pretend any longer. Pierre had proved years ago he would use anyone to get to her. Roland was a prime example. If he thought for a second it would upset her to take Viola and Sunny, he’d do it in a heartbeat.
Thinking of what he might do made her sick. Remembering what he did do nearly made her vomit. The most humane thing would be to simply kill them, but he was never one to do the simple or humane. If he turned Viola or Sunny as he’d tried to do with Roland, she would put a stake through her own heart. She couldn’t be responsible for yet another’s destruction.
“No.” Riah shook her head. “It can’t be Pierre. I came across an entry for him in 1958. A hunter by the name of Clark something or other. He’s long gone unless somebody faked the kill.”
“Clark Rockford.” Both Colin and Naomi said the name at the same time and then looked at each other. The identical frown on each face didn’t instill her with confidence. They knew something about this Clark, and she had a hunch it wasn’t a good something.
“What’s the deal with Clark?” She wanted to believe someone really had put Pierre down. She wasn’t harboring a great deal of optimism, given the grim expression Naomi turned her way.
“Clark is one of the old guys.”
“And?” “Old guy” didn’t mean anything to her.
“And let’s just say that while he was a competent hunter, he didn’t always get his man…or woman.”
Riah protested. “But I read a rather detailed account about Pierre’s destruction.”
“Not surprising,” Colin told her. “Clark always said he got the vampire even if he really didn’t.”
“He lied,” Tory said flatly. Her nightmare seemed likely to become her reality, her escape from Pierre just an illusion.
“More than once.” Naomi shook her head. “Clark has a good heart but he sorta sucked at being a hunter. Top that off with an ego that wouldn’t let him acknowledge failure and it all equals unreliable reports. He was one of the old boys’ club. Even so, the church retired him after some of his falsified reports came to light.”
“So he is still alive and after me.” She knew it. Turning Roland hadn’t been enough to punish her. He’d tracked her down and was trying to destroy her whole world.
Riah let out a long breath. “That’s not a good thing.”
“Hey, wait.” Naomi held up a hand. “We said he sometimes lied. Not all the time. Pierre could still be dead.”
She appreciated Naomi’s attempt to keep her positive. Wasn’t working for good reason. “Recent events would seem to confirm Pierre’s kill as one of the fabricated events. He’s still out there and he’s after me.”
Tory sank to an empty chair and ran her hands through her hair. She had to think, had to outthink Pierre. She’d spent so many years trying to erase him from her memories it was almost painful to let him back in. A cold band seemed to tighten around her heart.
Colin, like Naomi, tried to put a more cautious spin on things. “We don’t want to make any assumptions until we know for certain. It might be Pierre, and then again, it’s still possible it’s not.”
“And how exactly will we know that?” Seriously, they didn’t have a crystal ball. The closest thing they had to that was Adriana, and given that her skills were newly discovered, she wasn’t what Tory would classify as reliable. Her description of a tall, dark vampire certainly fit Pierre, and honestly, she sensed him, had since this whole thing started. Only one other man had been as close to her as Pierre, and given what she’d done to him, that only left Pierre and he had Viola.
She didn’t need to be convinced, though it appeared everyone else needed to be. “It’s him,” she said resolutely. “I’m telling you, it’s Pierre. This is exactly what he’d do to hurt me.”
Colin was still shaking his head. “There’s one way to find out. We’ll ask Clark.”
Naomi’s face registered surprise. “The only one who’ll know how to find Clark is Monsignor.”
“Yeah,” he said grimly, and held out his hand. “Can I borrow your car?”
*
While his guest rested uncomfortably in the trunk, Vlad drove the dark-windowed Mercedes slowly through the streets. A little quieter than last night but he could still feel the discontent in the air. It was amazing what a few precisely placed bodies could do to a city, along with a careful shove to those with small minds.
Little changed over the years. No matter when or where, people were people, which meant they could be whipped into a frenzy with a little bit of specific rhetoric. Prejudice and hatred always existed, even if covered up by polite society. All it took was the right nudge and it all boiled to the surface like bubbling lava, hot and destructive. That’s what he’d done.
He made a large loop around the cathedral after spotting a conspicuous police presence. That was a tad problematic. Not insurmountable but it would require an adjustment in his plans. Knowing that the cathedral hosted the special services, it made sense the good folks of the District would be here on the hunt.
As he came around for the second time, he smiled when he noticed two men with baseball bats swing at a man cornered at a chain-link fence. He wondered what he was, but not because he cared that the humans were about to make hamburger out of him. No, he was just curious.
He continued on his way and was happy when he found a secluded parking spot very near one of the back entrances to the cathedral. He was able to hoist Fatty out of the trunk and put her on her feet.
“Listen,” he hissed in her ear. “You’re going to walk through the doors of the cathedral like a good girl without making a noise, or I will kill you right here. Then I’ll go back and make your friend wish she was dead. You understand me?”
By the way the woman’s body began to shake he was confident she understood completely. Good.
“I’m going to free you from the restraints. Don’t say a word. Don’t try to run. You know what will happen if you do, right?”
She nodded. Satisfied, he removed the gag and untied her hands and feet. From all appearances, they were a man and a woman going into the church for night services. Perfect. The entrance they used was in the shadows, and it appeared they were operating under the radar. As he was sure all the other doors were, it was locked. That didn’t stop him. One well-placed kick and the door opened. He never could have done that when he was a mere mortal. They stepped inside and no one noticed. Even better. He liked things quiet when he was working.
Inside, he again saw no one and heard nothing. So far, so good. He led Fatty to a seat quite near the pulpit that provided a straight line of sight for whoever stood there. Perfect for what he had planned. When he pushed her shoulder, she sank to the empty pew and sat with her hands folded in her lap. A proper woman ready for tonight’s sermon. He’d give her credit for being able to follow directions. That wasn’t always the case and that’s when things got messy. He didn’t like messy.
Now he smiled, his fangs just beginning to show. Anticipation did that to him even when he wasn’t hungry. “Good girl. This will be so much easier if you behave.”
“What do you want from me?” Her voice quavered but she still sat tall. Fatty was a proud one.
“Why, nothing really. I just need you to sit here until our mutual friend shows up.”
“Then what, you’ll kill me in front of her?” Strength was returning to her words.
He kind of liked this show of spunk, and he put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “No, not at all,” he said in a low whisper against her ear. “You’ll already be dead.”
He kissed her ear right before he plunged the small dagger he held in his hand into her carotid artery and then held her snug against him until he felt her go limp. Only then did he stand up so he could slip out of the jacket that now had a bloody sleeve. Her fat-soaked blood had ruined it, so he dropped it on the seat next to her and walked away, leaving her sitting alone and leaning slightly. He intended to exit the cathedral altogether until he noticed how dark the shadows were. Someone could hide there and no one would be the wiser. A nice place to watch them find his little, er, big, present. Leaning against a pillar and shrouded in darkness, he hoped his wait wouldn’t be long.
*
Under any other circumstances Colin would say being here meant he’d lost his fucking mind. This wasn’t about him, though. This was about saving lives, particularly the lives of those he cared about the most. Once upon a time Monsignor would have been counted among those people.
Not any longer.
Ivy had wanted to come with him, bless her heart. She was worried that he’d do something stupid. Good call on her part. He was worried he’d do something stupid too. But tonight there was more at stake than settling a score. He couldn’t afford to let his personal feelings overshadow what he needed to do. Time enough after the current problem was solved to balance the scales.
After giving himself a few minutes to collect his thoughts and marshal his emotions, he got out of the car and walked up the steps of the modest brick home. Lights were on in a few of the windows, and he knew Monsignor would be up. He always was. When he was a kid and living here, he often thought Monsignor must be at least part vampire because no matter what time of night Colin might wake up, he’d be sitting in his study reading, going over reports, or in later years, working on the computer.
As a kid, he’d found that insomnia comforting. He’d felt protected knowing Monsignor was awake and watchful. Now it made him wonder what the man had really been doing in those wee hours. He’d find out. Soon.
He knocked and stepped back, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He didn’t have to wait long. Monsignor Joseph Warren hadn’t changed since he’d last seen him. Even after all these years, he was tall and dignified, and age seemed to have passed him by. Yes, there were small lines around his eyes, but he still looked like the same man who’d been at Colin’s side since that awful night.
Then again, of course he’d been at his side since that night. He’d created the night to get his hands on Colin. At the thought, rage surged into his chest and he wanted to wrap his hands around his neck, to squeeze until there was no longer a breath in his body. He wanted to take the life that had hijacked his.
He didn’t. Not tonight.
“Monsignor.” He was surprised how calm he actually sounded.
A smile creased the old man’s face and his dark eyes lit up—from all appearances, genuine joy at seeing his adopted son at the door. “What a wonderful surprise. Do tell me you’re back.” Monsignor opened the door and motioned for Colin to enter.
He hesitated, not sure he wanted to cross the threshold of this house again. Not doing so made it about him, and that wasn’t right. He suppressed his own rage and walked through the open door. Colin made his way to the familiar front room. He’d done his homework in this room, watched television, spent hours listening to Monsignor tell stories, fallen asleep on the sofa. This had been his home from the moment everything had changed, his family taken from him. Until tonight it had even felt like home. Now all he felt was cold.
“I’m not back.”
Monsignor looked both confused and sad. Then said brightly, “You just came to visit?”
“No.”
His brow wrinkled and confusion was clear in his voice. “No?”
No sense dragging this out. Besides, he didn’t really feel like spending any more time than necessary under this roof. “I need information. You know what’s happening out there.”
Monsignor’s face darkened. “We have people on it,” he said in the firm voice Colin remembered.
“I’m sure you do, but I want to stop it all before any more die.”
Monsignor laid a hand on Colin’s arm. “I wish you were with us, Colin. You were always the best.”
Colin stepped away. “It’s not going to happen. Not tonight. Not ever.”
Monsignor looked sad and shook his head. “I can’t pretend I understand. I don’t because I thought I taught you better than what you’ve become.”
“We all have things we don’t understand, but suffice it to say that I’ll never be back.”
Monsignor’s shoulders straightened and the man in charge was easy to see. “Well, then you’ll just have to be content to let the hunters take care of things. It’s what they do.”
Colin straightened his shoulders as well. “I repeat, I don’t want anyone to die.”
Monsignor shook his head again before lowering himself into a large leather chair. “I don’t get it, Colin. How can you fight for them? You know what they are. You better than anyone know what they’ve done and what they’re capable of.”
“That’s precisely why I fight for them. I do know them.” Even though he tried not to let it, an edge came into his voice.
“I can’t help you.” Monsignor closed his eyes and ran a hand through his short, white hair. For a second, Colin caught sight of the old man he really was. When he opened his eyes again, that man was gone.
Colin didn’t budge. “You will help.”
He looked up at Colin with a puzzled expression. “You know I can’t.”
Blowing out a breath, Colin said slowly, “You owe me.” His gaze didn’t break from Monsignor’s face.
Monsignor tilted his head and looked puzzled. “I owe you?”
“You owe me.” Colin said the three words even slower, his eyes boring into Monsignor’s. Finally, he saw with satisfaction the moment that comprehension struck. Monsignor’s shoulders slumped and a shadow seemed to pass over the man. The old man came back.
“What do you need?”