CHAPTER 4
THERE WERE THREE cartoon characters to choose from, though of course the best ones were on the square bandages and the tiny ones, the ones no one ever had a use for.
“There, all patched up,” Cathy announced. “You take care of Bert for me,” she commanded. The eight-year-old boy grinned, any pain from the scrape on his shin forgotten in the swath of Sesame Street bandages, and kissed his sister on the cheek before hopping down.
Tommy scampered off about the time that her dad descended the stairs. “That boy gets into more trouble in one afternoon …” He shook his head, still smiling. “He’s lucky to have you. Most fifteen-year-old girls have better things to do than take care of their brothers.”
Cathy shrugged. It sounded like Mr. Minate was about to launch into another of his inspirational talks.
“Honestly.” Right on cue. “Some people only care about themselves. They use things; they destroy. You’re … you’re a creator, a builder. A healer, not a user.”
Cathy shook off the words using the traditional “nod and smile” approach. Her father seemed to realize he had descended into the depths of hokey advice again, and gave her an impulsive hug. “Don’t let anyone change you, Cathy.”
The dream crumbled, and Turquoise wrenched herself away from sleep, trying to gather her bearings. You are not that innocent girl anymore. You are Turquoise Draka, a high-ranking member of Crimson, and a vampire hunter — one of the best. She pushed the memories away.
She was on a job. Memories had no place here.
She was sprawled across the passenger seat of Nathaniel’s car, with a kink in her back where someone seemed to have tied the muscles into a square knot. She rotated her shoulders, cautiously peering out the car’s window as she pushed the remnants of her dream away.
They were parked at a gas station. Through the window, she could see Nathaniel speaking to the cashier, an attractive young woman.
Flirt, Turquoise thought without bitterness, as she saw the cashier leaning forward, giving her customer an excellent view. Her hand lingered, fingers brushing over Nathaniel’s as she handed him his change.
Turquoise heard Ravyn starting to come to, as she waited for Nathaniel to get back in the car so she could grill him. It was dusk already; she wanted to know when they would arrive in Midnight.
She had just reached for her door handle, ready to confront the vampire, when she saw how the cashier’s flirting had paid off.
Nathaniel was holding the girl gently, almost in an embrace, one arm around her waist and his other hand on the back of her arched neck.
Turquoise stretched, turning away from the scene, and then fumbled with the radio dial for a few seconds, finding only static. Nathaniel was too discreet to kill the girl, and he had to feed sometime.
Ravyn grumbled a curse. “What the hell?” she snarled. “That —”
“We didn’t pay him to tell us where Midnight was,” Turquoise interrupted the other hunter. She had worked with Nathaniel numerous times; she knew how he thought. “And most likely, someone is paying him not to give Midnight’s location away.”
Ravyn grumbled an insult that Turquoise pretended not to hear. “What’s all the drama about this job? I’ve killed older bloodsuckers than this Jeshickah. She might have a bad rap, but that will all change once she’s got a knife in her.”
Turquoise did not respond except to shake her head. Nathaniel obviously did not know that Jeshickah was back. Jillian had said her return was very recent, and since Nathaniel had been avoiding Midnight, it was not surprising that his information was out of date. However, it was always worrisome when a prime source of information was wrong.
She sat back, forcing herself to relax. She could plan once she knew the score; until then, worrying about details was pointless.
Ravyn continued to grumble as Nathaniel bid the cashier adieu. She sank groggily to the floor, and the vampire returned to the car with a new bounce in his step.
Opening the door, he tossed a box of donuts and a soda at Turquoise, who took the drink gratefully; her mouth was dry as cotton. When Nathaniel offered one to Ravyn, the other hunter refused to do more than glare at the bottle.
“It’s sealed,” he assured her.
“No thank you.”
“Suit yourself.” He dropped the soda into the cup holder. “We’re about ten minutes away from Midnight. If you want anything to eat —”
“No,” Ravyn said again.
Nathaniel chuckled lightly shaking his head. “Turquoise?”
She dug into the donuts. The drug had made her hungry, and who knew how often Midnight fed its humans?
Lost in her own thoughts, Turquoise still could not have missed the shift into Midnight’s territories. The hair rose on the back of her neck, and the skin of her arms tingled; she saw Ravyn shudder as they passed through the almost solid wall of magic.
“Midnight has always had witches on its payroll,” Nathaniel informed them. “They keep unwanted pests from stumbling in.”
They had driven on a single-lane road from a suburban town, through whatever veil Midnight’s witches had put up, past a thick wall of oak and pine trees, and into a different world. It was dark by now, and even the full moon above was all but obliterated by the thick leaves of this unnatural forest.
“We’re here.”
Turquoise found herself looking at a menacing building that could only be Midnight. A path of white marble led from the gates of an imposing iron fence guarded by iron ravens to the opulent, carved doorway, around which black roses grew. Though the red ground cover was slightly less overgrown, the building had obviously been designed in imitation of the antique painting Turquoise had seen.
Nathaniel swore under his breath, driving off the road to avoid an oncoming car. Sleek claret, the car all but screamed money.
Ravyn whistled, leaning forward in her seat. “Who’s got the Lamborghini?”
“Shut up.” Nathaniel’s voice was crisp. He pushed open his door, every movement tense — not quite fearful, but wary and displeased. “Stay here.”
Turquoise caught his eye, but Nathaniel avoided her gaze. Instead, he approached the woman who had just stepped out of the Lamborghini. Suede encased her long legs — tall, black boots that laced from ankle to mid-thigh over a pair of black pants. The archaic-style boots contrasted with the modern styling of her shirt, which was the burgundy color of an especially bad bruise.
“Nathaniel,” she greeted. Her tone was not friendly, but neither was it openly threatening.
“I heard you had decided not to involve yourself with Jaguar’s project here,” Nathaniel returned, nodding in the general direction of Midnight’s main building.
“That was my plan,” she responded dryly, “but Jaguar’s games here have recently ceased to amuse me.”
“How so?”
“This place is a mockery.” She shook her head in disgust, and then her gaze fell on Turquoise and Ravyn, who were waiting in the car. “That one looks familiar….” Turquoise’s heart stopped. She had not known her name, but she remembered this woman on sight. Mistress Jeshickah had been a frequent visitor to Turquoise’s tormentor’s home. She had been the only creature in the world Lord Daryl would admit to fearing. Belatedly, Turquoise realized where she had seen the painting of Midnight — also in Lord Daryl’s manor, hanging on the wall of his office. However, Jeshickah’s gaze had settled on Ravyn. “Jared’s pet, wasn’t she?”
“Perhaps.” Nathaniel glanced at Ravyn absently. “But I don’t recall anyone quite like her.”
Throughout the exchange, Ravyn’s gaze had remained on the car door. Her expression, however, she could not control.
“She’s not broken,” Jeshickah observed.
“Not quite,” Nathaniel agreed. “I thought Jaguar might enjoy that. I was going to pre sent the girls to him directly.”
“There was a time when you would have enjoyed them yourself,” Jeshickah responded. Turquoise saw Nathaniel’s expression cool to a blank, unreadable mask. The words had struck a nerve.
“Jaguar is much more qualified than I ever was,” he answered.
Jeshickah growled a rather unflattering expletive under her breath. Aloud, she added, “The little cat had talent, but I’m afraid time has liquefied his brain. I think I’ll come with you and see what he makes of this fine pair. Jaguar will certainly deal with their pride.” She sighed, and with an air of regretful practicality added, “Or he won’t, and I’ll tear out the bleeding heart he’s developed and make him eat it.” She said the last words brightly and with a smile as she led the way toward Midnight, not even bothering to glance back to see if Nathaniel had heeded her commands.
“You two, follow,” Nathaniel ordered Turquoise and Ravyn. The tone was surprisingly similar to the one with which Jeshickah had spoken to him, and as the mercenary had obeyed, so did the hunters.