Shadows of Fate (Shadow Born) (8 page)

She looked at him, puzzled, and found his gaze had turned hard. “The Vires have no reason to hate me. I didn’t betray them. My father did.”

Gray nodded, but it was clear he didn’t believe her. It was bad enough to be judged out of ignorance for things you had done, but worse to be judged for things you hadn’t. She felt the first stirrings of anger, but pushed them down. Nothing good came of protesting your innocence to someone who had decided not to believe you.

“Why don’t you make the list of suspects? You seem to know more about my past than I do.” She slid the paper she had been doodling on across the table. Curious, he didn’t notice. He had drifted off into a world of his own, eyes unfocused on the wall.

“Did you bother to tell Dunham’s family?”
Ah, he
was
still damning her as a traitor.

“There wasn’t time what with the public beating and being banished through a dimensional portal against my will.” She paused. “I’m going to find Marissa. A third pair of eyes may be helpful.”

That snapped him out of his stupor.

“This isn’t housekeeper work,” he growled.

“There you go, jumping to conclusions.” She wanted to slap that smirk off his face, but managed to restrain herself. “Marissa is a retired hunter. She was my partner before Xavier.”

Gray sighed. “Of course. I’m an ass.”

Yes, you are
.

“I’m sorry.” He sat back. “If she can still hack it, you should bring Marissa into this, but Hilda told me she hasn’t been here all day.”

“What about the cookies?”

He smiled. “They were in the kitchen. I have low impulse control.”

It wasn’t like Marissa to leave without word. A sense of uneasiness pushed its way forward.

Sam shuffled into the room, looking somewhat anxious. “Have you seen Marissa? She was supposed to drive me to my appointment.”

Appointment meant feeding and if Sam didn’t feed they were all going to have an issue. Marissa religiously found him willing donors, so he didn’t take out his frustrations on the others in the house. Sam didn‘t look good. His skin had a gray pallor, and his eyes looked dim.

“I need to feed,” he said, resting on the chair Brenna had vacated. “It’s been two months. It weakens Marissa too much if I feed off her.” He took a shaky breath. “Much longer and I won’t be able to control the cravings.”

Damn it. If Marissa was all right, Brenna was going to kill her. This was her job.

“How much do you need?” Coming behind Sam, she placed both hands on his shoulders. He flinched from her touch. Despite the nasty legends humans spread about Sam’s kind, he didn’t need to feed through sex, just raw emotion. But he preferred sex. Who wouldn’t?

“Brenna,” said Gray.

She ignored the warning in his voice. Gray couldn’t understand what it was like to fight against the very thing that defined you. It was an agony she hoped he never had to experience. If she could help Sam, she would.

“A lot.” Sam lowered his head to his hands. Brenna let herself fall forward with him. “But even a little would help me until I can find someone.”

Releasing him, she knelt at his feet, lifting his head with her hands. His skin burned beneath her touch. “Gray is going to stay. He’ll stop you if you get carried away.” She ignored Gray’s snort.

Sam looked up. “I’m not a monster.”

“I know. But you’re hungry. Things happen.” She clasped his hand in hers, ignoring the screaming in her head. “Let’s get it over with.”

Her head fell back as heat scorched her blood. She could feel Sam’s essence pushing inside her body. He held back, but only just. The room dimmed as she accepted the assault. Her body trembled in his hands as he drained the energy from her aura. Then it was over.

Her breath steadied as she opened her eyes, but still stumbled backwards into Gray. She was numb inside, like she couldn’t feel anymore, not unlike the first night she spent stranded here on Earth.

“Did you get enough?” she asked. She didn’t attempt to free herself from Gray’s grasp, unsure if she could stand on her own just yet.

Sam nodded, slouching back in the chair. “Thanks. I thought I was going to have to hunt.”

“Sam,” she warned. “You need to come to me before it gets this bad. If I had been human, you would have killed me.”

The incubus sagged a little. “I’m sorry. I depend on Marissa. We’ve been fighting, but I didn’t think she’d do this. She’s so damn distracted.” Sighing, he rose to his feet. “It’s like she’s back on the Taskforce or something. Last night when she came to bed she had these weird marks on her stomach. They looked like bite marks.”

“I’ll help you find her.”

Brenna turned to Gray, surprised. He shrugged.

“She doesn’t seem like the type to shirk her responsibilities.” He looked at Sam. “Do you have enough control to come with me?”

“Yeah. No problem. Let me grab my stuff and I’ll meet you at the door.”

Once Sam left, Brenna leaned towards Gray. He was so close she could feel his breath on her forehead. His power trailed along her skin. It was all she could do not to wrap herself around him. At the very least, she wanted to stroke his chorded muscles. His magic danced, heavy in the cold air. She wondered what he would taste like.

“Brenna?”

She jerked back, cursing her stupidity. Sam must have stirred up her lust when he fed. “She was working a lead in the Underground when I talked to her last. Start there.” Her voice was still shaky.

Gray cocked an eyebrow. She hated that expression. “I can barely stand on my own much less go traipsing through the sewers. I’ll slow you down.” She clenched her fists, fighting against the urge to touch him.

“Agreed.” His hands slipped to her shoulders. She shuddered beneath his embrace. “I will bring her back if I can.”

“Understood.”

With a nod, he returned to the table. Gathering up the documents, he shoved them into the file folder and handed it to her. “Work on this while I’m gone so we don’t lose time.” He grabbed his coat and slipped from the room.

“Thank you.” She just prayed he came back with good news.

Chapter Five

The Underground existed inside the abandoned sewage system of Denver. After the Fall the state had been in a severe drought for over fifty years, water as rare as a twelve carat diamond. The survivors had been forced to be creative. The sewer system had been abandoned to make way for more efficient uses of waste water.

In time, the homeless deviants trapped in this world and forced to live outside society had been drawn there. Connections had been made and crime syndicates formed. Now it was a place mostly avoided, and if people did choose to visit, they always came well-armed.

When Gray first came to this plane, before he’d even re-established contact with Seraph, he had lived in the Underground. The connections he’d made there were more beneficial than any from the IRT. It was time to draw on them.

Near dusk, Gray and Sam drove down the winding dirt road a few miles from the city. Gray could feel Sam’s anticipation for the hunt, twined with his fear for Marissa. Gray’s own empathetic abilities had failed at rooting out the relationship between the two, which surprised him. He would have to watch Sam. The incubus had a hot head that would get him in trouble down here.

He slowed the truck as they approached the old sewer gate. Rusty and bent, the gate had seen better days, but, as the entrance to the Underground, was a symbol of power. It wasn’t until his feet hit the dirt that he saw the emaciated man standing beside it.

Ga’loh. The biggest sewer rat of them all. He had his fragile finger on the pulse of the Underground. Nothing escaped his notice. Even so, asking him for help would cost them. But there was little choice. It had been three hours and they had found no trace of Marissa. They were running out of time.

Telling Sam to stay put, Gray strolled toward Ga’loh, careful to appear unhurried. “You came,” he said.

Ga’loh stepped out of the shadows, tossing the butt of his cigarette to the ground. “Of course. I don’t get many inquiries from men as powerful as you.”

The moonlight highlighted the other man’s appearance. He looked even worse than Gray remembered. Ragged wool pants hung loose around legs as thin as bones. The trousers seemed to be held up only by the wide rope belt he had tied around his waist. A gray tunic hung limp across his chest. It billowed in the wind, occasionally flattening against a chest more bone than skin. He had covered the rest of his disease ridden face with a clear mask, but it did nothing to hide the sores and blisters that covered his flesh. Long black gloves covered hands missing several fingers.

Ga’loh had contracted a form of leprosy during the Fall. It had stripped away not only his flesh, but his soul. All he cared about now was cause and effect. Ga’loh would help them if it amused him. Then he would extract his payment. Magical blood provided a respite from the pain of his disease and his existence largely revolved around his next fix.

“How can I help you?”

Gray offered his hand. Telepathically he sent images of Marissa and the marks Sam had seen to the other man. “I need her brought to me. If she’s dead, no deal.” He released the other man’s hand and stepped back.

“It doesn’t work that way.” Ga’loh’s lips played against broken black teeth. “I promise nothing but my assistance. You pay me regardless of the outcome.”

Ga’loh pulled another clove cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it. The smoke drifted in Gray’s face, burning his eyes. “You know what I want. If you aren’t willing to part with it, we have nothing to talk about.” He took another drag, exhaling closer to Gray’s face. “Tit tat,” he said with a wave, moving back to the grate.

“One pint.”

“So untrusting,” Ga’loh said as he slowly turned back. “A pint for what?”

“A pint no matter what. Take it or no deal.” The glint in the other man’s eyes said it all. Shadow Bearer blood was stronger than anything Ga’loh had access to. He would be an idiot to refuse.

Drifting across the cement, Ga’loh stopped a mere foot from where Gray stood, his gloved hand outstretched. “We have a deal.”

“Good. What do you know?” Gray pulled a bag of blood from the pocket of his duster and held it in the moonlight. “Is she here? Has she been taken?” Ga’loh licked his lips. Waiting for the other man to rip his eyes from the blood and focus, he waved Sam over.

“Patience, my friend. We can’t speak here.” Ga’loh cast one last yearning glance at the blood and motioned them to follow.

They followed him past the grate. It took several moments for Gray’s eyes to adjust to the fog inside the pitch black tunnels. He breathed through the smell of refuse and rotting flesh. As they moved, he ignored the sounds of scurrying creatures against the metal. Something splashed behind them in the water at their feet. Ga’loh turned and flicked a burning cigarette toward it then stomped his foot down. There was a splash, a shriek, then silence.

Creatures, bodies dirty and broken, huddled together against the rusted sides of the tunnels to keep warm. Curious eyes followed them as they traveled. Having had enough, Gray called to his blood and cast a protection spell, keeping away prying eyes and ears. But instead of being repelled, the creatures were drawn to his magic. These were the denizens too far gone to even fit in among the Underground anymore. They pried themselves from the metal grates, splashing through the foul water toward them. Gray pulled out a wad of cash and tossed it, causing them to throw themselves in the air in desperation, pushing each other down in the water.

A few yards later the water cleared and they found themselves in a massive underground chamber the size of a football field. Tents had been setup haphazardly across the concrete floor. Vendors of all types had booths across the area, selling everything imaginable and some things best left to the imagination.

People of all shapes and sizes filled the great hall. Many were residents that lived in the spider web network around this hub, but some were from the surface, looking for things you couldn’t find anywhere else. Sometimes not even from Earth.

Ga’loh led them to a ragged tent made from purple velour and tree branches about the size of Gray’s bedroom. The Astroturf laid out across the concrete outside held an ancient charcoal grill and several withered plants.

“Home sweet home.” Ga’loh peeled back the opening and motioned for them to step inside.

A green military tarp covered the floor. Two twin mattresses had been pressed together at the far end and a pile of fleece blankets had been tossed on top of them. The nightstand was made up of around a hundred empty boxes of clove cigarettes. Ga’loh parked himself in one of the cream colored plastic patio chair across from his bed. He motioned for them to do the same as he lit another cigarette.

He waved his arms over his head, ash flying across the room. “Your girl has been poking around here for a while now.” He leaned back, his booted feet resting on top of a rotted banker box. “She’s not so smart. Made no attempt to fit in. People notice power.”

Gray leaned forward. “Who was she with?” He accidentally bumped the fake plant next to him. It hit the ground with a thud.

Ga’loh stilled, his features strained. “Careful. These are my things.”