Archangel's Blade (Guild Hunter #4)(49)

“Aren’t most things at that age?” Santiago muttered.

Honor hadn’t ever been that young, couldn’t imagine such innocence. “Yes, it’s fairly harmless—except some of the adherents take it one step further and drink blood from one another.”

“You’re shitting me,” Santiago said.

“Afraid not.”

“Vampires can drink from any donor because their bodies process out any problems in the blood,” Elena said, scowl darkening her eyes to storm gray. “These kids are messing with who knows what diseases.”

“If they can even digest it,” Honor said, unable to see the lure of a life ruled by blood.

Santiago pushed back his jacket, hands on his hips. “You saying we should look for vomit?”

Elena was the one who answered. “It would depend on how much he or she actually drank, but yeah.”

“Great, that’ll make some uniform’s day.”

“Could be some of these kids start to think they are vampires,” Honor added as Santiago called over a young officer, who curled up his lip at the task given him but began to circle out from the scene. “I’d take a look at who this boy’s friends were. Seems to me he was playing donor to someone else’s vamp and things got out of hand.”

“From the location of the bites,” Elena said, “I’d bet on sex being in the mix.”

Santiago rubbed a hand over his face, his stubble scraping on his palm. “Good old-fashioned sex and violence.”

Honor was about to agree, when her phone vibrated with an incoming message. “Excuse me.” She stepped a small distance away, but could still hear Santiago and Elena.

“I got the harness,” the cop said with a sort of gruff curtness.

A pause before Elena replied. “I didn’t expect you, too.”

“Yeah, well.” The rustle of cloth, the scrape of a shoe on the asphalt. “I guess it’s about adapting—some old dogs might be able to learn new tricks.”

Elena’s answer was quiet. “Thank you.”

A longer pause before Santiago said, “This case is the last thing I need,” in his normal tone of voice. “We’ve got that cross-jurisdictional serial sucking up resources.”

“The one who’s targeting young mixed-race women?”

“Yeah. No bodies, but my gut says they’re dead.”

When Honor joined them, the tension was gone, to be replaced by a cautious familiarity—two people who’d often worked together trying to find a new balance. Looking at them both in turn, she said, “I have to head to the Tower.”

Dmitri’s message had been simple. I hear you’re awake. So am I. Let’s go.





The cabin was located in the middle of thick woods, an almost cutesy place built of logs, complete with a rocking chair on the porch. That chair was motionless now, the woods so silent not a single leaf appeared to stir. It was as if the trees themselves knew the horror that had taken place in this charming setting straight out of a holiday greeting card.

In autumn, she thought, the ground would be covered with leaves the innumerable shades of fall, but it was deep into spring, the leaves bright green overhead. Gold shimmered high above but the heavy canopy meant the light was diffuse by the time it reached the ground, adding to the bleak gray of the atmosphere.

“When I was a child,” she said to the vampire who walked beside her, “I used to dream of going on vacation to a place like this. It seemed like the kind of thing families did.”

Dmitri glanced at her, the shadows of his face harder, more defined in this light. “Did you ever attempt to trace your parents?”

“No.” By the time she’d had the resources to mount a search, she’d known that nothing good could come of it, no happy ending that would take away the loneliness of her childhood, erase all those school plays and sports days where she’d watched other kids’ parents clap and cheer while she stood by and pretended it didn’t hurt.

The decision not to search hadn’t filled in the hollow space inside of her, but it had set her free to live her life without being hamstrung by thoughts of what could’ve been. “Do you still remember your parents?” she asked as they reached the cabin.

Dmitri skirted the bloodstains on the steps where it appeared Tommy’s beaten body had been dragged up, and glanced at the similarly stained rocking chair. “Whoever executed Tommy,” he murmured, “set him down, questioned him, after making it clear defiance would result in pain.”

It was what Dmitri would’ve done with a pompous * like Tommy—the vampire might have survived for four hundred years, but only because he stayed out of the way of the predators, playing the big dog within his coterie of similarly useless friends. “Makes you wonder what made him a target.”

“He might’ve brought Evert in without permission,” Honor said, staring at the door on which Tommy’s head had been pinned, a thick blade shoved into his mouth and out through the back of his skull. “I get the feeling the game was meant to be by invitation only.”

“So, the second invitation notwithstanding, we probably saved Evert’s life.” Somehow he didn’t think the vampire would be grateful for the long years he would live in Andreas’s care. “My parents,” he said, pushing open the door, “are as clear in my mind as if I saw them yesterday. Perhaps it’s an effect of immortality, but certain faces will never fade.”