12
Alex was not happy I left him with Dox while I went on without him to meet with Doran. He whined and cried, whimpered, and finally started howling. I felt awful, knowing how submissive and downright needy he was. That is, until Dox pulled out another pan of boggart brownies, and Alex suddenly forgot all about me.
I pulled out of the driveway. I was headed to Shawnee road, on the far east side of town. Dusk fell and shadows darkened the road as I pulled up to where Doran was supposed to be. Sitting in my Jeep, I looked out over the empty lot. At first glance, it was nothing more than an overgrown weed garden, one lone attempt at a cactus in the far right corner, miserable excuses for houses on either side of the mid-sized lot, and no actual house of any sort. I glanced at the realtor posting out front and checked it against what Dox had given me. It matched up. Which could only mean one thing.
I focused on my second sight, narrowing my eyes, and saw the flicker of the veil cross my vision. When I opened my eyes fully, there was a massive adobe house with a beautiful herb garden, two small fountains in the shape of fish spouting water out their mouths and into a pond with koi swimming lazily about. Swanky for this part of town, even if it was on the other side of the veil.
“How the hell did you manage this?” I asked no one in particular. Which is why I was startled to get an answer.
“Hard work. A little luck. Good timing.”
I started as a body materialized behind the voice and a young man, no older than myself, was suddenly sitting on the passenger seat. Good thing indeed I hadn’t brought Alex with me. Doran was an average build. It was hard to distinguish his height while sitting, but I guessed he was about my height. White blond hair stuck straight up as if magnetized, the tips dyed black. It was a sharp contrast for his dark green eyes that spoke of humour and fun, not magic and wisdom. Two piercings over his left eyebrow and one in the right side of his lower lip made him look a bit like a punk rocker. I had a very hard time seeing him as a shaman.
I composed myself as fast as I could. “You must be Doran.”
He smiled, a big open grin splitting his face from ear to ear. “Yes. And those beautiful eyes must make you Rylee.”
I blinked, not sure how to react. Most people didn’t like my eyes, too many colours to be normal.
Clearing my throat, I nodded. “I need help with tracing a kid on the other side of the veil, but I don’t know how deep she’s been taken or which entry point to use.”
Doran shrugged. “Which one? Isn’t that always the question?”“ For a price, of course.” His eyes darkened. “The deep levels on the other side of the veil are not very welcoming right now. Perhaps you’d be better off forgetting about this kid.”
Deep levels? What was he talking about? I didn’t ask, though, as I knew it would only cost more and it likely didn’t matter.
“How much?” I chose to ignore his warning. Shamans were like that, always full of doom and gloom, and in that at least, he was no different.
“The price is steep, I’m not sure you will be willing to pay it.” He lifted an eyebrow, the two rings catching the last of the light from the setting sun through the windshield. “Come in, it’s far more cozy in my home.”
Leaving the safety and additional weapons in my Jeep, I followed him into his territory after a quick glance around to be sure no one was looking. A shiver of air rippled around me as I stepped across the veil. It was what separated the human world from the worlds where many of the supernatural creatures lived, hiding out just under the human’s noses.
Anyone watching would have seen us disappear and, though I was nervous, Doran didn’t seemed to be bothered at all. I knew most humans, if they did see something, would shake it off as a trick of the light. That’s not to say some humans didn’t go looking for the supernatural; they just didn’t know what they were looking at most of the time.
The fountain splashed merrily and the koi swam to the surface as we passed. “Little beggars,” Doran muttered, tossing them some small crumbs from his pocket. They gulped at the pieces, their mouths opening wide and showing flashes of silver and gold as they jostled for the bits of food.
Inside the adobe house, the air was warm, and a large open fire pit in the middle of the structure roared upward, keeping the chill autumn air at bay.
“Sit, we will discuss your needs . . . and mine,” he said, motioning to a plush cushion on the edge of the fire.
A worm of unease began to crawl through the base of my spine, making its way upward. I didn’t know this shaman and I’d walked in here like it was safe. What had I been thinking? “I’ll stand. You know what I need, name your price.”
Doran stared at me across the flames, his gaze travelling the length of my body twice before resting on my face. Slowly, he smiled. “Perhaps you can guess at my price for the knowledge you seek.”
For the second time that day I blushed, the heat from the flames was nothing compared to the heat in my face. My jaw clenched at what he was implying. “I think you’d better just spit it out. I don’t like guessing games.”
He grinned at me, white teeth almost sparkling. My eyes narrowed; I didn’t like this, but he was the only chance I had at finding India in time. Almost without thinking, I reached for her and was surprised when she reached back, just the faintest brush of her mind at the very edges of my own.
“Help, please.”
Stunned, I saw Doran’s mouth moving but heard nothing. Not one kid had ever reached for me, had ever felt I was going to try and help them. “I’m coming, just hang on,” I whispered under my breath, not sure if I could speak to her mind to mind.
“What was that?”
I waved my hand at him to continue and tried to piece together what he’d already said.
“You see, I have some very particular needs,” he said, a smile tipping up the corners of his mouth. “I have very refined tastes, and quite frankly, the people around here just aren’t satisfying them.”
Jaw tight, I held very still. It was the first time I’d ever dealt with a male shaman. I didn’t know if he was bluffing or if he truly wanted to get in my pants. “I’m not that kind of girl.” I bit out.
“Not even to save a child? A little girl?” Doran spread his hands across his knees and rubbed his thighs. “Isn’t she about the same age as your sister was when she went missing?”
Ice formed around my spine and heart. Maybe he thought I’d buckle under the mention of my lost family. “No, actually. Berget was younger by a few years.” Stepping around the fire I leaned down until our noses almost touched. “Try to use her for bait again, Doran, and it will be you that will go missing next.” By the end, my words were a bare whisper, only just audible above the crackle of the fire.
“Oh, Rylee, how I wish I’d met you years ago.” He whispered back, as if I hadn’t just threatened his life. “A pint of blood will do, I suppose. Though I’d much prefer it to be taken by my mouth, I suspect you’ll insist on a blade?”
I snapped backwards as if he’d slapped me. Blood. If he wanted blood, then . . . “You’re a daywalker?”
Steepling his fingers under his chin, he laughed softly. “What did you think? That any old shaman could step in and replace all those women?”
Daywalker. Vampire. They were the same thing, only one roamed the night, and the other roamed the day. Why hadn’t Dox warned me about this? Likely he didn’t know.
I started to sweat, old fears surfacing. I’d faced down a daywalker once, to save a child. The end result was the daywalker was dead, and the kid safe, but I still had nightmares. Not to mention a few deep tissue scars that would never fade. The one in my lower back, just above my tailbone, started to throb as if I’d poked it. The daywalker had tackled me from behind, almost wrapping his teeth around my lower spine. If Milly hadn’t been with me on that search, I’d have been killed. What Doran had just said caught up with me.
“Speaking of those missing women, where are they?” I forced the fear back down my throat.
Doran tipped his head to one side. “You don’t hunt for adults, Rylee, so why would you care what happened to them?”
“It’s important to a friend. He wants to know.” I fingered the handle of my blade. “And since you took their places, you should know what happened.”
“I do, but if you want that information, you’re going to have to give me more than blood. I want you bound to me.”
Nope, no one was worth that, not even the shamans I’d come to count as allies. In fact, I wasn’t so sure I’d bind myself to him even for a kid. I shook my head.
“Whatever, I’m not looking for the shamans.” I cracked my knuckles, nerves starting to show through my tough girl exterior. “I guess you can’t help me then, especially not if it’s one of your own that took the girl.” I started to back away from him. No f*cking way I was turning my back on him now.
“Oh, I can help you, Rylee. Besides, it wasn’t one of mine who stole the girl, I can tell you that much.” He paused and took a long slow breath as if tasting the air. “You see, I just want a taste of the good stuff. The blood all the daywalkers and vamps sing about when we get together for our yearly convention.” His eyes, they were full of laughter. He was having fun with this, teasing me.
“Only one blood sucker has ever bitten me, and he’s no more,” I said, sure of myself.
Of course, he blew that out of the water with what he said next.
“Rylee, Rylee. You don’t understand.” Laughing, he stood and started toward me. For each step he took, I stepped back. “All of us blood suckers, as you call us, are connected by the same blood. So when he bit you” —he reached out for me and I batted his hand away— “we all knew just how delicious you were. It’s what got him killed. He was so caught up in your blood singing through his veins, he didn’t recognize the danger of having a witch behind him.”
The door bumped against my back. I twisted the handle, but it was slippery under my sweaty fingers, making it impossible to turn.
Doran lunged forward, pinning my body to the door with his own. “I won’t hurt you, Rylee, I promise, you will like the bite I give you.”
Nope, not doing this again.
Kicking out, I caught him just below the knee. The bone crunched under my foot; he screamed and I caught a glimpse of fangs. Spinning out of his reach, I put the fire between us. The worst part of this was that I couldn’t just leave. I needed him to give me an entry point into the other side of the veil. I pulled my blade, holding it at the ready, eyes narrowed, ready to do what damage I had to without killing him.
Doran limped toward me, a grimace on his face. “I don’t have time for this. I forgot how damn touchy your type are.”
My ears perked up. “You aren’t going to try that again?”
With a grunt he slid into a heavily cushioned chair. “Joints are the hardest thing to heal. They are never a clean break and take a lot of energy to put the pieces back together.”
“Why would you tell me that?”
“I get the feeling you might need the info when you go after this girl,” he said, his hand rubbing his knee.
Hmm. Interesting. And what had he meant by my type? Like blood type? Or that I was a Tracker and an Immune?
“Let’s keep this simple, Rylee. I want your blood. I’d love to sink my fangs in you . . . amongst other things.” His gaze held mine and a burst of heat whipped through me. Damn, he was good if he could rile me up even after freaking the hell out of me.
“Don’t even think it,” I said, tearing my eyes from his.
“I will settle for you donating into a cup for me.” He pointed at a table across the room. Sitting there, as if he’d known I wouldn’t go for the whole ‘bite me, do me’ routine, was a crystal flower vase with a straight razor beside it.
Swallowing hard, I let out a sharp puff of air. “Okay. But I will fill it half up. Then, you will tell me my entry point, and I will fill it the rest of the way.”
Winking at me, he settled deeper into the chair, one hand massaging the knee I’d busted. Stupid daywalker, my fear was giving way to anger.
The crystal vase sparkled in the light, sending rainbows of colour skittering across the table. Pretty.
Rolling up my left sleeve, I ignored the razor he’d laid out for me and pulled a knife out of my boot. It was clean, sharper than the razor and, better than both those things, I knew it had no added substances on it. Like a drug that would knock me out and leave me vulnerable to Doran’s fangs.
With a swift slice, I cut across my arm, deep enough that I didn’t feel it at first. The blood welled in the groove I’d cut; I placed it over the vase, and then I felt the first sting. With every ounce of my self-control, I kept my arm dripping into the crystal vase while keeping an eye on Doran. At the halfway mark, I nodded at him. Holding the knife cut shut, I moved my arm away from the vase.
“Okay, spill,” I said. My arm dripped blood on the floor; somehow I knew that would drive Doran nuts, the wasting of “good blood.” I was right.
He started to splutter and stood up. “Put your arm back over the vase.”
“Tell me my entry point.” I felt the distinct shift of power move from him to me.
His eyes dilated and his mouth hung slightly open, fangs extending, like a junkie staring at his next fix. No response.
I let go of the cut and let the blood drip to the floor, then scuffed it with my boot. “I can let the next half pint fall to the floor and technically, I’ve fulfilled the bargain.”
Licking his lips, he gestured with his hand, waving me back to the vase. “A mineshaft. You’ll find the closest entry point to her in a mineshaft.”
Well, that only narrowed my search down a bit. Coal was plentiful in North Dakota, and along with that came a lot of mineshafts. Some known, some not so known.
“No other details?” I squeezed out another few drops onto the floor. It hurt, but his response was worth it.
“Stop! Okay, put your arm over the damn vase, Tracker,” he snapped, his eyes glittering with anger.
“You’re going to actually help me? Rather than just give vague answers?”
Nodding emphatically, he again gestured. “Just stop wasting that blood.”
Placing my arm back over the vase, I let the blood run. With every pump of my heart, a gentle flow slid out. I’d cut deep, but not into an artery or it’d be spurting blood—though I was going to have to make a side trip to the hospital for stitches after this.
Doran came to stand behind me, his body close enough that I could feel the heat off his body. Unlike their counterparts whose skin was cool and tended to be clammy, daywalkers ran hot. Not that I knew that from a personal introduction; I’d never had to deal with a true vampire. They were rare, deadly, and didn’t tend to leave their territories. Not to mention daywalkers were weaker, more human and less badass blood suckers.
“The mineshaft, it runs deep, over 200 feet straight down, and its back in your home territory.” He took a deep breath and my hair actually fluttered toward him. With his chin just above my shoulder, he whispered into my ear. “They stole her, in the light of day, underneath her mother’s watchful eye. One moment she was in the playground, then poof” —he blew across my ear, sending a course of shivers through me— “she was gone.”
Just like Berget.
He stepped back, leaving me to listen to my heart hammering in my chest, the beat of it loud enough that I knew he could see my pulse jumping in my throat. Fear. I told myself it was fear and adrenaline; that was all.
Doran smiled at me, just lifting one corner of his mouth. He grabbed the lip rings with his fang and pulled at them, capturing my gaze with ease. There, at the corner of his mouth, it looked soft, as if it were the perfect place to press my lips to his.
“You’re half pint is finished, Rylee.”
“Huh.” I cleared my throat. “Right.”
“Here,” he said, that wicked smile still lingering on his lips, “Let me help you. I am rather good at stitching up wounds.”
I stumbled away from him, more out of fear for what I was feeling than for my safety. “No. You have your blood and I have my information.” He was trying to pull me under his thrall, and I was falling for it, my mind weak from the blood loss.
Keeping my eyes on him, I again backed toward the door, gripping my arm, keeping it closed as best I could. I had bandages in the Jeep. I just had to get there.