The Thief

  Overhead, traffic was a steady stream of ambient noise, the heavy weights of cars and trucks bumping along, coughing out the occasional horn or siren.

  Vitoria walked all the way to the far side, to the place where the highway began its elevation from the earth, the parting of two planes creating an especially private area.

  And there he was.

  Streeter was precisely where they had agreed to meet, his tall body likewise in the same clothes he had been wearing during their arctic trip. As she approached, he flicked his cigarette away and exhaled.

  "Hey, what's going on--"

  She shot him twice. Both times in the chest.

  The suppressor did its job beautifully: The loudest sound was of him falling to the ground and landing faceup in a flop.

  Two steps forward brought her to him. As he gasped, he lifted one hand up as if to ward her off while the other grabbed on to his chest.

  She put a bullet into his forehead and a final one through the front of his throat.

  Then Vitoria re-tucked the weapon into the waistband of her snow pants and walked away, head down, hands in pockets.

  As she went, she noted the warmth of the barrel as it rested against her body, and thought, oddly, about the last time she had had sex. It had been a while since she had had something hot, round, and hard against her lower belly. Too long--although part of that was because it was difficult to be discreet back home. She would not have that problem here.

  But that was a concern for another time. Now, she had to continue with her plan for the evening.

  She would much have preferred to catch a bus or a subway back to the gallery. A taxi would be even better. But she couldn't risk anyone seeing her or interacting with her. So she walked out from under the bridge and hooked up with a city street.

  Now the snowflakes fell upon her once more, and her breath came out in puffs, like smoke from a locomotive's engine.

  It was nearly forty-five minutes of trudging before the gallery came into view, and she avoided entirely the rear entrance. Instead, she went in through the front, just as though she were a legitimate customer. Thanks to de la Cruz, she knew that, for some reason, her brother had no monitoring cameras on what was the primary entry. Then again, his illegal associates had come and gone through the back one--and Ricardo certainly had never had any intention of turning security footage over to the police.

  No, upon further reflection, Vitoria was willing to bet that he had kept it for his own records, as an insurance policy in case anyone got any bright ideas.

  She'd left through the front, too. And had not engaged the security alarm.

  That way, there would be no record of her having left the premises and returned. And to that end, she was careful to circumvent the camera field that monitored the gallery space and the doorway up to Ricardo's office.

  One other advantage to her having watched the footage de la Cruz had showed her so many times was that she had figured out where the blind spots were.

  Accordingly, she went into a dark corner that had no security coverage and changed back into the office clothes she'd left there. Then she stashed the parka, snow pants, hoodie, and gun in the hollow three-dimensional representation of a toadstool. After that, she took a circuitous route around so that she could go into the staff area unseen....only to make a show of striding out of there with her coat and bag.

  Certain she was being watched and recorded by the cameras, she walked through the gallery space and checked the front door even though she was out of frame for that...then she reentered the camera's eye and walked to the rear exit.

  After engaging the alarm, she stepped out and locked up.

  Then she looked left. Looked right.

  Frowned.

  Walking out of frame, she waited for as long as she guessed it would take for her check around and see where the Bentley should have been.

  With hands that deliberately fumbled the keys, she let herself back in and disengaged the alarm, making sure to relock the door. Then she got out her phone. Dropped it. Picked it up and pushed her hair out of the way.

  With hands that she made shake, she dialed a number and put the cell up to her ear. When the call was answered on the third ring, she made sure her voice was panicky.

  "Detective de la Cruz? I'm so sorry to bother you, but you told me to call you if anything strange happened? Well, my car appears to have been stolen."

  FORTY-NINE

  On the heels of a nightmare about being chased, Assail woke up with a jerk that flopped all his four limbs. For a split second, he had no idea where he was--was he still in an alley with slayers behind him? Was Marisol screaming for him to help her--except he knew if he went to her, he was bringing death along with him...?

  But then he looked around the training center's break room and reality's most recent sequence came back to him: he and Marisol bringing her grandmother into the Brotherhood's clinic; them receiving the good news that everything was essentially fine; the two of them coming to the decision that he and Marisol would stay through the day in case they were needed.

  And then him sitting in this chair, and clearly passing out.

  "Are you okay?"

  He looked across the room. Over at the counter where the food was served, Marisol was putting things on a tray: two mugs that steamed, eggs, hash browns.

  "Yes, yes of course." He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

  "We're both exhausted." She came over and pulled another chair close. "So I guess they like breakfast for dinner here--and that works for me. I got enough for two."

  He wasn't hungry, although that was not because he'd eaten anytime soon.

  "Here." She sat down and put the tray on her knees. "Drink this."

  He took the mug she offered so he wasn't rude, but a couple of sips in, he decided it wasn't a good idea. He was jumpy enough.

  "Eggs?" she offered.

  "Not at the moment. Thank you, though."

  "Like I said, I got plenty for both of us."

  "Thank you." He sat back and concentrated on the warmth that was transferred through the mug to his palms. "You are very kind."

  As Marisol proceeded to eat, he wasn't aware of there being any strained silence, but then she exhaled and stopped chewing.

  "Look, I'm so sorry," she said. "But you know she doesn't mean it, right?"

  Assail frowned. "Forgive me, what?"

  Marisol put her fork down and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. "That stuff my grandmother was telling you about marrying me or she'll die? That's all a bunch of bullcrap--she's just playing with us. Not that that is an excuse."

  "She has done nothing to make me feel uncomfortable."

  "You sure about that? Because ever since she laid that on you, I've sensed the distance and strain, and I don't blame you. Nobody needs pressure like that. I just want you to know that I do not expect anything. I'm happy to--you know, however we are is okay with me."

  Assail closed his eyes. Tried to speak. Failed.

  "Wow," she said dryly. "That bad, huh."

  He lifted his lids. "I am sorry--what?"

  "Whatever you were trying to tell me back at your house. You know, before she collapsed."

  As she got to her feet, he sat forward. "Marisol..."

  When he couldn't finish things, she walked over to the refrigerator unit, where the Gatorades and the Cokes were. Staring into the display, without taking anything out of it, she murmured, "It's all right if you've changed your mind. About us, I mean."

  "I haven't."

  Marisol turned back around to him. "Yes, you have. I can see it in your eyes. It's in your voice. It's all around you. Something has changed, so which is it--whether you want me or whether you want out of the life?"

  As he stayed silent, she shook her head. "Just so you know, either way I'm going to be okay. I will be perfectly fine without you--not because I'm not in love with you, but because I'll be goddamned if I let anything other than a bu
llet take me down."

  While she was speaking, Assail focused on the side of her neck...the place where he'd bitten her.

  "Will you please look me in the eye," she muttered as she put her hand to her throat. "What the hell are you staring at?"

  Assail wanted there to be another way. Prayed, once again, for some solution to come to him. Begged fate for a different path.

  In the end, however, there was not one--and he simply could not keep going with the lie. No matter that it would cost him his female, or that there had to be a better time, she had a right to know.

  "What," she snapped. "Just say it."

  As Assail put his coffee mug down on the floor, he was very aware that it was going to be the last thing she ever gave him.

  Shifting his weight, he rose from the chair and began to undo the buttons of his fine silk shirt, one by one.

  "What are you doing?" she demanded. "I am not interested in sex right now, FYI."

  Pulling the shirttails free, he went all the way to the bottom and then removed his cuff links, putting them in the pocket of his slacks. Opening the two halves of the shirt, he let it fall from his shoulders to the ground.

  "Tell me what you see, Marisol," he commanded.

  "What?" Impatience had her shaking her head. "What the hell is this about?"

  "Look at me. Look at me closely. What do you see."

  Her eyes made a cursory pass over his chest and his stomach. "I see a man. I see you. I mean, what?"

  "Do you remember what I looked like the first night you came unto me here?" Her wince told him she did. "Remember what my body looked like?"

  "You were sick."

  "Enough so that you thought I was dying, yes?"

  "It's why I made the damn trip."

  "And what do I look like now. How have I changed."

  That last one was not a question. It was a challenge.

  She shrugged. "You're a lot...healthier. Stronger. More yourself."

  "How many days has it been, Marisol."

  Now she frowned. "I don't know. Three. Four?"

  "What about my hair?" He pulled at the lengths that were easily two or three times as long as they had been. "How is it different?"

  As he continued to push her, the change in her was minute, but powerful. Instead of being animated by anger, she stilled and seemed to barely breathe.

  "Think about where I was compared to what I am as I stand before you now," he said roughly. "And admit to yourself that you've noticed these things over the past couple of days and questioned how it was possible. You've seen how much weight I'm putting on so quickly, how fast I've rebounded. I know you've seen the difference, but you've put it to the back of your mind, haven't you. You've wondered--but then been so grateful I was okay that you just..." He made a poofing motion next to his head. "Didn't dwell on it."

  Marisol crossed her arms around her torso. "So. You're better."

  "Ask yourself how. Ask yourself...why. And the answer will not add up. It's too much improvement too quickly, and you know I've hidden nothing because you've seen me without my clothes. You know something doesn't seem right about me. You've sensed it for a very long time--since the first moment I confronted you when you were tracking me. It's always been there in the background, but there were too many reasons not to look too closely into it."

  The fact that she took a step back from him broke his heart. But he reminded himself that this was the inevitable end--and he would bear the burden, not her.

  He would tell her the truth and then, given that her grandmother would soon be free to leave the clinic, he would strike both their memories. Yes, he could have just done the latter without revealing himself, but his love for Marisol meant that he had to come clean and feel her disgust and anger--because he deserved both. And there was another reason to do it. He was soon to feed from Ghisele again, and at least this way, he would not run the risk of a sexual liaison with Marisol where she could be hurt. Or have something taken from her without her knowing what was happening.

  As a bonded male, he was just too dangerous.

  "Isn't that right, Marisol? You have wondered about things, things you can't understand and can't explain."

  "Yes," she whispered, her brown eyes wide.

  "Your hand is on your neck."

  "Is it."

  "Yes. When you looked in the mirror in the bathroom, and you saw the bruises there, what did you tell yourself?"

  Her voice became very quiet. "Nothing."

  "Did you get your period? When you were in the shower, there was blood in the drain--did you get your period."

  Marisol's eyes shifted away. "Ah, no. No, I didn't."

  He had to wait for that stare to return to him. "I am not like you, Marisol. I am...so sorry. But I am not one of you."

  Abruptly, he saw her chest begin to pump up and down, faster and faster. "You're scaring me."

  "I'm sorry. I am more sorry than you will ever know."

  With that, he curled his upper lip from his fangs and descended his canines, releasing a growl.

  * * *

  --

  Sola could hear nothing but the thunderous beat of her heart as the man she had thought she'd known stood before her, revealing...fangs. Fangs that she would have argued were cosmetic--except for the fact that they moved.

  They grew longer in front of her very eyes.

  "I am so sorry, Marisol."

  Or at least that was what Assail must have said. She couldn't hear a goddamn thing.

  Her eyes traveled over his face, his neck...his pecs...those abs. And she saw clearly what she had, in fact, wondered about without acknowledging: In the last forty-eight hours especially, he had appeared to put on fifty pounds of muscle, his skin no longer loose, his body beginning to return to its previous condition.

  In quick succession, other things filtered through her mind: She had never seen him out in the daylight. His glass house was shrouded in strange drapes she had assumed were for privacy, but now? Then there were the lights that went on and off. The people that--

  Dizziness swept through her. His cousins. Everyone here in this facility.

  Doc Jane coming and going from his house even though, now that she thought about it, there hadn't been any cars on the drive to drop her off or pick her up. The same had been true of Rhage. Ehric and Evale...

  Then Sola remembered the blood around the drain in the shower...and the bruises at her throat. Over her...jugular. "Oh...God."

  Without conscious thought, she turned and bolted out of the room, running as fast and as hard as she could, pounding down that corridor with no destination in mind--just high-octane panic energizing her body.

  Except then a bright glow became her goal, as if it were the horizon, as if it were freedom, and as she closed in on it, she tore open a glass door and shot through into--

  It was a pool. An Olympic-sized pool--

  Just as everything registered, Assail appeared directly in front of her. Out of thin air, he was suddenly there.

  Sola screamed, the sound echoing around the vast domed area of tile, and she tripped as she tried to turn and run once again. Landing with a hard slap, she whipped around onto her back and crab-walked away from him, horror and her mind's inability to process what he was showing, telling her, turning this into a nightmare.

  This could not possibly be real--

  Assail stayed right where he was. And eventually, the fact that he wasn't crowding her or being aggressive in any way broke through her terror.

  Sola stopped paddling with her hands and feet and lowered her butt to the tile. Her breath was still exploding from her lungs, her fear a roar in her chest...and yet he was...

  Heartbroken.

  As Assail stood there, shirtless and shaken, there was such a depth of pain in his eyes that, under any other circumstances, she would have wept for him--

  "Hey, we good in here, folks? Need anything?"

  Sola spun her body toward the male voice. That big blond man, Rh
age, had poked his head in and was looking like he was prepared to intervene if necessary.

  He is not a man, she thought.

  He is a vampire--

  She was surrounded by them. Dear God, her grandmother was in a hospital bed, and--

  As Sola started to throw up, she caught sight of a stack of towels and crawled over to them, her palms and shoes squeaking on the damp tile, her stomach evacuating those eggs just as she grabbed something to catch them in.

  From out of the corner of her eye, she saw the two men--vampires--talking. Rhage was shaking his head like he didn't approve, but Assail had put his body in between her and the other man, as if he weren't going to stand for any interference.

  That cologne of Assail's, that heady, dark spice, abruptly canceled out the chlorine in the air.

  "You fix this," Rhage said. "You need to fix this, my man. Or I will."

  Assail replied something and the man--vampire, fucking vampire--left.

  "Are you going to kill me," she croaked out.

  "No. No harm will befall either of you here." Assail nodded toward the exit. "And as soon as your grandmother is medically cleared, you can both go. You never have to...you do not ever have to see me or any of us again. You will not even remember--"

  "I will remember everything," she bit out. "I will--"

  "No, you will not."

  That dizziness came back as she extrapolated what that meant. "What are you going to do to me?"

  "I will make it so that you will not recall any of this. It will all be gone, this moment here and all that came before it as it pertains to me will not exist for you. You will be free of this as you return to your life."

  "I don't believe you."

  "It's true--"

  "You've lied to me how many times now?"

  "Marisol..." As his voice cracked, he cleared his throat. "Marisol, you have never been hurt around me and I will not permit anything to give you worry or pain."

  "That's not true," she said roughly. "You have betrayed me. I am in pain now."

  He closed his eyes and lowered his head. "I am so sorry--"

  "Get away from me," she demanded, "and I don't want you anywhere near my grandmother. And know this. If any one of you does anything to her, I will fucking kill all of you. I don't care what you are--and I want her off those drugs or whatever the hell you're pumping into her this goddamn minute. She and I are leaving right fucking now. We are getting the fuck out of here."