Dayhunter Page 3

  “Caroline Buckberry,” I sighed. “That might be an alias, but I’d wager she’s a local. Or at least, her mentor is.”

  “Why?”

  “I think she used a charm to disappear, and judging by the amount of power I felt in the air, I’d guess she didn’t travel far. She’s a novice.”

  “I’ll check with Themis. Ryan might know something.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered, not caring if he heard me over the water.

  “I understand why you did it, Mira,” he said. I hadn’t heard him move, but he sounded closer, as if he were just on the other side of the shower curtain. “You did it to protect us all. I understand it, but I don’t have to like it.”

  I listened to the sound of the door opening and closing, a frown pulling at my lips. Bracing both of my hands against the wall in front of me, I closed my eyes and put my face into the water, wishing it could drown out my thoughts.

  But I couldn’t. It was the “us” that caught my attention. It was the first time I had ever heard Danaus include himself with the other races, admitting for a brief moment that we were linked in some strange way. The knot in my stomach eased.

  With a sigh, I returned to the task of washing off a layer of dried blood from the earlier battle at Themis and Stonehenge.

  In the grand scheme of things, the Daylight Coalition was a minor annoyance. For now, I would leave it to Ryan and his people at Themis to investigate—that was what they did. Themis was a bunch of gray-haired librarians who studied all the races that were different from humans and wrote down their findings in thick, leather-bound volumes.

  Of course, Themis also had its group of hunters; trained assassins dispatched for the sole purpose of killing my kind and anyone else who stepped out of line. Ryan had smiled at me and said that it was all in the interest of maintaining the secret, protecting mankind from the knowledge that vampires and werewolves were real. But I trusted the warlock about as far as I could throw him. Probably less.

  With a frustrated groan, I turned off the water and quickly dried off. Rubbing my hair to dry as much of the water as possible, I stepped out of the bathroom and into the master bedroom, where I pulled open my bag. Clean clothes. Sometimes it’s the little things in this life that can pick up a person’s mood. I had worn my last outfit through my meeting with James Parker at the Themis town house, Thorne’s death, my fight with Jabari, my fight with the naturi, and the naturi encounter at Stonehenge. I tossed the pants and shirt into the trash can, resisting the urge to set them on fire. Burning the clothes wouldn’t purge the memory of the past two nights.

  Quickly, I pulled on semiclean clothes and shouldered my bag. Dawn was only a few hours away and we had to be in Venice before the sun rose. The Coven was demanding we make an appearance. And the ruling nightwalker body would not be denied anything it wanted.

  THREE

  I hesitated at the bottom of the stairs leading up to my little jet. Instead of winging me back across the ocean toward home, it was carrying me into the dark heart of the nightwalker empire, the Coven. Jabari would claim it was for my own protection; I had no doubt that the Elders had some other dark scheme in mind. Of course, I had no say in the matter. Running would only make it worse. And I still had to figure out a way to protect Danaus and Tristan.

  With a grimace, I climbed on and came face-to-face with the young nightwalker. Tristan stood in the middle of the plane, his hands resting on his slender hips as he looked around the pristine white interior. His eyes settled on me after a moment, with one brow arched in question.

  “White?” he inquired, amusement cavorting through his voice. I swept past him, ignoring his comment. What could I say? I thought the black clothes were enough of a stereotype.

  “Contact Sadira,” I snapped, noticing the way his smile slipped at the mention of our maker. Neither of us was in any great hurry to see her again. I had escaped her “tender care” nearly five centuries ago only to find myself faced with the controlling vampire once again. Tristan had recently escaped, but was recaptured by me as I’d been unwittingly manipulated by her.

  “Tell her to have a taxi waiting when we arrive,” I ordered as I dropped my bag on the floor. “We’re going to be cutting it that close.” Lounging on one of the long benches that lined the interior of the plane, I tried to keep up the appearance of being completely unconcerned with the fact that we were flying to Venice, with sunrise only four hours away.

  “Anything else, Mistress?” he asked with an elegant bow. I frowned at the nightwalker. Get him away from Sadira and he turns into a sarcastic ass, I thought. Just what I needed. I already had my hands full with Danaus, the Coven, and the naturi; I didn’t need to worry about a young nightwalker now that he was away from his master. But I also had a sickening feeling in my stomach that he was confident I would find a way to free him from Sadira’s grasp. Desperation made me promise to help him. At the time, I’d been sure that one of us wouldn’t survive the encounter. I was wrong, and now I was stuck.

  “Go to the back and take a nap,” I grumbled.

  I watched him as he took a couple steps toward the back of the jet, where a tiny bedroom lay behind a door. But he paused before reaching the door, seeming to hesitate.

  “Go ahead,” I called. “Say it.”

  “Why go?” Tristan’s voice was barely over a whisper when he finally spoke, as if fearful of some kind of punishment for questioning me. He turned and his eyes held that same haunted look they had just a couple nights ago in that London alley. Fearful. Hopeless. “We’ve got a jet. Let’s go west. As far from the Coven as we can get.”

  “And spend an eternity running from the Coven? From the naturi?” I rose to my feet and slowly approached him. His narrow shoulders curled inward, his body tensing for an expected blow. “There is nowhere to run. Jabari will hunt us down. The naturi will hunt us down. If we go to the Coven now, they can raise an army and we can finally stop the naturi from freeing their queen.”

  “What about the Coven?”

  I smiled at him and brushed the tips of my fingers along the side of his face. “Others have survived facing the Coven. It just takes a little finesse.”

  “The Coven needs you alive.”

  “And I promised to keep to you,” I said with a shrug. “So, if I live, you live.”

  A cynical smile twisted on Tristan’s lips, failing to lift any of the doubt from his eyes. But he nodded once before turning and disappearing in the tiny back bedroom. He knew there was no escaping our destination. We would go before the Coven. If we were to defeat the naturi, we would need their assistance.

  I bit back a sigh as I returned to the bench I had been sitting on. It wasn’t a great plan, but at least it was something. As I stretched out my legs and tried to relax, Danaus stepped onto the jet.

  A surprised smile tweaked the corners of my mouth as he sat on the bench across from me. It was only a few days ago since we boarded the jet together for the first time. He had been tense and uneasy as we headed off to search for clues as to how the naturi were attempting to break free of their cage. Now he seemed almost relaxed. I was no longer a threat. At this point we both had darker things to worry about than what we could do to each other.

  “What?” he asked in a wary, near growl.

  “You’re still here,” I replied. His blue eyes narrowed. I waved one hand at him, brushing off his dark look. “I didn’t mean it quite like that. I thought we would have parted ways by now, whether through your death or not.”

  One thick dark brow quirked at me. “I’ve thought the same.” I think he was taunting me. It was hard to tell. His thoughts and emotions had grown distant and hazy again, while his expression retreated to its usual unreadable stone. The link we had established through our combined powers had faded to almost nothingness. My awareness of him was now obscured by the cloak of energy that wrapped around him.

  “So I’ve heard. Ryan said you’ve been itching to cut my heart out. Do you plan to keep it as a trophy?” That finally
earned me a frown while my own smile widened. “Regardless of your plans for my various body parts, we’ll have to keep working together if we hope to survive the next few nights. Trust me, I’m not pleased. You’re giving me a bad reputation.”

  Danaus chuckled quietly, and for a brief moment his features softened. Through that slim window of time, I glimpsed sight of a beautiful man. His weariness and shadow of worry melted away. Normally, with his glares and frowns, he was a virile creature exuding strength and power. Yet when he smiled and laughed, his humanity shone through a break in the clouds. It was a strange combination. Danaus had somehow found a way to be human without all the usual human frailty.

  And then I realized I no longer wanted to kill him. Lurching to my feet with none of my usual grace, I paced to the back of the jet, a curse on the tip of my tongue. Was I going soft? Had I lost my edge?

  But just because I didn’t want to kill him didn’t automatically mean I saw him as a comrade in arms. He was a strong fighter, and it was nice having someone at my back who could take care of himself. Danaus wasn’t as frail as my beloved angels, but he also didn’t have their warmth and compassion.

  Stretching my arms above my head as best as I could in the jet, I shook off the strange realization. Danaus was probably still in my head, mucking up my thoughts. It would pass, I tried to reassure myself. So he wasn’t on my to-kill list anymore. That could change easily enough, and probably would during our stay in Venice.

  “Can he hear us?” Danaus suddenly inquired, motioning with his head toward the closed door at the opposite end of the jet.

  I paused as I paced back toward the bench opposite him, my brows bunched over the bridge of my nose in confusion. “Why?”

  “We need to talk.” Those ominous words rumbled in his chest before finally finding an exit from his lips. I could guess at what he wanted to talk about and I was in no rush, but it had to be done. Mentally reaching out, I brushed Tristan’s mind and found him stretched out on the bed in the back of the jet. With a little shove, I pushed him deeper into sleep, where he would stay until the jet landed.

  “Tristan is asleep. He can’t hear us,” I said, sitting on the bench across from Danaus. I stretched out my legs and crossed them at the ankle, trying my best to affect a relaxed posture when all the muscles in my body seemed to be tense and waiting. “What is it that we’re keeping quiet?”

  “What happened. Have you ever done that before?”

  I didn’t have to ask what he was talking about. Hours ago Danaus, Tristan, Jabari, Sadira, and I had been at the Themis Compound, surrounded by naturi. It seemed that we were dead. There was no escape, nothing to swoop in and save us. In a last desperate attempt, Danaus and I agreed to use our powers: boiling blood and fire. If we survived, we’d be exhausted and at the mercy of our “comrades.” Instead Danaus somehow pushed his powers into me, his deep voice echoing through my brain as I destroyed them all. And not just the ones at Themis. I had killed every member of the naturi within several miles of the Compound.

  “Incinerated someone? Yes,” I said, purposefully vague. I wanted to hear him say the words. I needed to know that I wasn’t alone in what I felt.

  “That’s not what happened and you know it,” Danaus snarled. He flinched at the loudness of his voice as if afraid he would wake Tristan. He couldn’t, but I wasn’t about to disillusion him. I didn’t need him yelling at me. I had enough on my mind without an irate vampire hunter to worry about. “We destroyed their souls,” he continued in a low, heavy voice.

  I remained silent. Was there anything I could say that wouldn’t sound lame? Not really. Maybe a part of me was hoping I’d been wrong. But I wasn’t. Danaus had felt the same thing.

  “I’m assuming you couldn’t do that before,” I finally said.

  “No!” he shouted, lurching to his feet. His hands opened and closed restlessly at his sides twice before he finally returned to his seat, his emotions once again under control. “No, I haven’t. I can’t do that. I’ve never heard of any creature doing that.” His voice was a little calmer than before, but it was a forced calm. Panicking would solve nothing, not that I wouldn’t have enjoyed the brief luxury.

  “Then why did you force me to do it?” My own voice turned even harder and colder than I meant it to. I hated the naturi with every ounce of my being, but even so, destroying another creature’s soul? It…it was an unspeakable act, something that smacked of true evil.

  “I didn’t force you to do anything!” he said, jerking his eyes back to my face.

  “I heard your voice in my head. You told me to kill them. You told me to kill them all.”

  “Not like that.”

  “I tried to crush their hearts or set them on fire but you wouldn’t let me.” I shifted uncomfortably, placing both of my feet flat on the floor as I moved to the edge of my seat.

  “I didn’t stop you from doing anything.” Danaus shoved one hand through his thick black hair, pushing some strands away from his exquisite blue eyes. I could almost sense the frustration humming through his muscular frame, building in him as he recalled events from earlier in the evening. “The moment I touched your hand, it felt like my powers had been amplified. Considering we were outnumbered and about to die, I didn’t think this was a bad thing.”

  “And that’s all?” I asked, failing to keep the skepticism from my voice.

  Danaus took another deep breath and held it for a moment. “I could hear your thoughts,” he finally admitted, his voice near a whisper. His eyes moved away from my face, dropping down to his hands, which rested half open on his thighs. “You were scared and in pain. I just kept thinking, ‘kill them. Kill them and the pain will stop.’” He paused and I could feel his anger starting to ebb. The faint smell of the sea filled the cabin, seeming to cleanse the air. Danaus’s unique scent. My eyes drifted closed, letting his voice brush against my cheek. “I didn’t tell you to destroy their souls. I didn’t think such a thing was possible and I would never have asked that.”

  “I didn’t think so, but this is all new to me. I wanted to be sure.” My head fell back against the bench. I didn’t want to think about this anymore. There were no answers for what had happened or for what I knew would happen again.

  Danaus let a deep, heavy silence slip back into the little jet, holding us together in the gathering darkness. It was several minutes later before he bothered to speak again. Neither of us wanted to think about this anymore, but certain questions had to be answered before we reached Venice and the Coven.

  “How is it that I can…”

  “Control me?” I finished the statement that seemed to get stuck in his throat; whether because he had a sudden concern for my feelings or just a distaste for the ability, I didn’t know. Despite my own carefully crafted facade, I couldn’t keep the bitterness from my tone. Jabari could control me. Sadira could. While he lived, so could Tabor. The original three members of the triad, and my makers. And now Danaus.

  “I’ve been around enough vampires throughout my life. What I felt when I touched you…” Again his voice died, and I let the sentence wither away before I spoke.

  “I can answer only part of that question. Jabari and Sadira and potentially other nightwalkers can control me because I was…made differently.” I paused, nearly choking on the word. This story was not supposed to go this way. All the popular tales told of a chosen one, a child born under a particular star that was supposed to rise up and lead the downtrodden to redemption and victory. Well, this so-called “chosen one” was a tool, a weapon, a nightmare that could just as easily destroy my kind as lead them to salvation, and I hated it.

  Frowning, my eyes darted around the interior of the plane as I tried to frame my explanation. “There are two ways to make a nightwalker. The first is quick, easy, obviously the most common. A nightwalker drains a human of his blood and replaces it with the nightwalker’s blood at the exact second of death. The next night the human rises a nightwalker. It takes a few centuries for these vampires to ga
in any significant powers. These humans are reborn as nightwalkers to serve as a form of entertainment for their master. They’re not expected to live long existences and rarely outlast their masters.”

  “Why?”

  A grim smile skipped unchecked across my face, causing the hunter to stiffen. “Because many of our entertainments are lethal, even for nightwalkers. Among my kind, these quickly made nightwalkers are commonly referred to as chum.”

  “Is Tristan…chum?” Danaus asked, the term falling from his lips like something distasteful.

  “Yes, but I wouldn’t call him that to his face.”

  “I guessed as much,” he murmured under his breath.

  “Most nightwalkers are made this way. It takes little effort and dedication to the task.”

  “Have you ever…?”

  “No.” My hands gripped the edge of my seat for a moment as I sat straight up. “I have never made a nightwalker, nor will I.” With a shake of my head, I relaxed again and sat back. There were enough of us roaming the earth.

  Closing my eyes, I listened to the steady rhythm of Danaus’s heartbeat, the sound barely rising about the dulled roar of the jet engine. The beat was soothing, wiping away my momentary anxiety. I didn’t create nightwalkers.

  “But I wasn’t made that way, and up until a couple nights ago I thought that Sadira was my only creator.” I paused again, licking my lips as I searched for the words. “There are three stages of death. The first is that the body stops breathing, then the heart stops, and then finally the soul leaves the body. When I was made, the transformation was started before my soul had left my body. Sadira worked slowly and carefully to make sure my soul never escaped from my body.

  “The process takes years—sometimes decades—to complete, but when the nightwalker finally awakens, he is stronger and more powerful than those newly born chum. Some believe that by retaining the soul throughout the whole process, the nightwalker attains a higher level of power. In general, those made this way are stronger, more powerful, and harder to kill. They are called First Bloods.”