The Den of Shadows Quartet by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes
“I’ve worked with him in the past,” Ravyn answered vaguely. “He knows I’m a hunter, but my profession has been beneficial to him before, so he won’t be a threat. He’s been helpful enough that I’ll forgive him for never informing me of his connection to this trade.” Returning to the subject at hand, she continued, “You’ll find your blade beneath the pillow in your room. Once you get it, I say we make this a race: whoever brings down the target first gets Ms. Red’s bonus. You game?”
Turquoise found herself answering Ravyn’s bluster in kind. Meeting Ravyn’s eye with a level gaze, she challenged, “How about the loser forfeits the title?” Turquoise wouldn’t be able to beat Ravyn with a whip, though Ravyn probably didn’t know that. She also knew where Jeshickah slept, and as a bleeder she could easily put herself in the vampiress’s path.
Ravyn hesitated; she did not want to admit uncertainty in her skills by declining the bet, but she did not want to risk her title by accepting.
The burgundy hunter’s intense expression suddenly disappeared, changing to one of modest boredom, as her gaze shifted past Turquoise. “Eric, hey,” she greeted. “The meal’s over, but if you’re hungry I can dig something out of the fridge.”
“I was looking for Audra, but thanks,” the boy responded, oblivious to the conversation he had just interrupted. “You have a chance to talk to Jaguar?” he asked Turquoise.
Her last conversation with Eric seemed a very long time ago now, but she dredged it up in her memory and answered, “I’m not allowed outside.”
Eric frowned in annoyance. “That’s a pain.” He turned, sensing the vampire behind him before anyone else did.
Turquoise looked up and recognized the vampire; her mind spun and stalled instantly.
Ravyn glanced at Turquoise and seemed to see the other hunter faltering. With a superb imitation of humility she asked, “Can I help you, milord?”
Lord Daryl barely paused to look at Ravyn before answering, “You’re dismissed.” Ravyn exited swiftly, her eyes never leaving the vampire. She paused in the doorway and glanced at Turquoise, who nodded minutely, before disappearing into the hall.
“Eric, you have work to do,” Lord Daryl added.
Eric looked at Turquoise for a moment, silent apology clear in his features, but he did not argue with the vampire. With him gone, the room was cleared but for Turquoise and Lord Daryl.
Black, unreadable eyes watched Turquoise as she took in the smallest details of his appearance, remembering vividly how those slender artist’s hands could deliver a beating so severe she had begged forgiveness for whatever imagined or real transgression had set it off. Remembering the sharpness of fang in her throat, the seductive pull of his mind as he drew her blood. And of course, remembering the instant pain of his whip turned on her once in a fit of fury.
“Lord Daryl.” Her voice was so soft even she could hardly hear it.
“Catherine, how nice to find you here,” he greeted, and his tone was polite with an undercurrent of anger, a tone she would have stepped back from had she had anywhere to go. “Imagine my surprise when I saw you with Jaguar earlier.” Without warning, he backhanded her hard enough to send her reeling. “Where have you been?”
Turquoise grasped for her lies, searching for a story she could tell to this creature, but all of her clever tales slipped from her reach. Catherine was not a vampire hunter. She was just a girl, a girl Lord Daryl had abducted and terrorized, a girl with no guile and no defense.
“Never mind,” he snapped when she took too long to respond. “Come here.”
“No,” she replied instantly, backing away toward the kitchen. His black gaze fixed on her in anger, and he grabbed her arm; Turquoise wrenched out of his grip and took another step back. “Don’t touch me.” She could not feign sycophancy, not with Lord Daryl. If he had been any other bloodsucker, she could have played the part of subservient slave, but she did not have the strength to kneel to this beast from her past.
She couldn’t fight back, either. Rationally she knew that fighting would make it obvious that she was a hunter. Irrationally every fighting move she had ever learned had disappeared from her head the instant he had touched her.
“Don’t argue with me, Catherine,” he warned.
She stopped backing up. “Don’t call me that.”
“Catherine?” He laughed as he said it. “It’s your name, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Laughter was a good sign — it meant that he was not in the mood to injure. Keeping him in that mood, however, was nearly impossible unless she wanted to beg forgiveness for the last two years of her life.
“Audra,” she answered instead. “I’m going by Audra now. I haven’t been Catherine in years.”
“I really don’t care,” he answered, and this time he grasped her wrist in a grip she could not easily break. “Come here.”
“No,” she snapped, putting all her weight into an open-handed blow to his face. The heel of her palm hit just below the eye hard enough that it would have broken something if it had contacted with human flesh and bone. Four bands of crimson appeared where her nails raked across his skin.
Lord Daryl hit back harder, a reminder that if she wanted to trade punches, he would win. Black spots danced in front of Turquoise’s eyes, and her back hit against the sharp edge of the counter as she tried to avoid falling.
“I’m leaving, Catherine, and you’re coming with me.”
“Don’t you think you should discuss that with me, Daryl?”
The new voice came from the doorway. It was calm, almost a purr, but laced with threat all the same.
Lord Daryl grimaced, glanced back at Turquoise, and offered reluctantly, “I’ll pay you whatever she cost.”
“She isn’t for sale to you.”
“Really?” Lord Daryl asked, voice dangerously level. “Just to me?”
“To anyone,” Jaguar admitted, “but you especially I happen to be fond of her, and it doesn’t appear that she wants to go with you.”
Turquoise took a step away from Lord Daryl.
“Fond of her, are you?” he whispered, voice low. Jaguar seemed to sense that he had made a mistake; he said nothing, but looked to Turquoise.
“Lord Daryl —”
She didn’t get any further before he struck her across the face hard enough that she stumbled. Before she could even think of defending herself, he had grabbed her by the throat and thrown her against the wall. A gasp of pain came from her throat, along with another attempt at, “Milord, please —”
“And how have you earned his favor, Catherine?” he demanded. “Does the jaguar think you’re his?” He hit her again, this time sending her to the floor. “You’re mine. Don’t you understand that?”
“Milord, I didn’t —”
A sharp kick caught her in the side, once again forcing the air from her lungs.
Damn him to hell and back, why am I groveling?
Yet she was, because she had always done so. “Milord, he didn’t mean —”
The crack of a whip caused her to jump, expecting to feel the leather slice her flesh again; instead, Jaguar’s whip wrapped around Lord Daryl’s throat, drawing blood. Lord Daryl stumbled, and while he was off balance Jaguar untangled the whip. Then he grabbed Lord Daryl’s throat and threw the other vampire against the wall as easily as Lord Daryl had thrown Turquoise.
“You have no right,” Lord Daryl protested, shoving Jaguar away. Jaguar gave ground, but stood between the vampire and Turquoise.
“Right of ownership. Even your twisted little mind can understand that one. Jeshickah paid for her, and then gave her to me. She is my property” Each word was clipped, spoken coldly, as if he was talking about a pet. Lord Daryl’s eyes narrowed.
“She is not yours, Jaguar,” he growled. “She was mine to begin with, before you ever bought her.”
“And it seems you lost her, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t …” Lord Daryl paused, then smiled cruelly, his hand going to the cheek Turq
Turquoise painfully turned her head away, knowing what the outcome of this argument would be. Blood claim was one of the vampires’ highest laws. The blood she had drawn from Lord Daryl entitled him to do with her as he pleased; no other vampire was allowed to interfere if her once-master wished to beat, maim, or kill her.
She thought Jaguar might sigh, or even curse in frustration, but she expected him to give in. After all, there were some laws that none of their kind argued with, and blood claim was one of them.
She expected him to do anything, except what he did.
Jaguar laughed.
Lord Daryl looked shocked for a moment, before Jaguar began to speak.
“You’re foolish enough to call blood claim here?” Turquoise did not understand what he was saying, and from the expression on Lord Daryl’s face, he did not either. Jaguar went on, “Don’t bother complaining that you were weak enough for a human to injure you, because I don’t care. If you want to cower behind those laws, go to New Mayhem and serve the rulers there. Of course, they do have those nasty restrictions against the slave trade, but if you grovel prettily they might not kill you for disobeying.” Lord Daryl nodded slowly, though none of the hatred left his eyes.
“Fine,” Lord Daryl whispered. “Do whatever you want with her. Just watch that she doesn’t put a knife in you before I can do it.” He stalked out of the room.
Jaguar knelt beside Turquoise. He reached toward her and she flinched.
“Are you okay?” he asked, not touching her, afraid of causing further injury.
Cautiously, she tried to stand. Her left eye was swollen from Lord Daryl’s first blow, and there was no doubt a lump growing on the back of her head from when she had been tossed against the wall. The left side of her rib cage was bruised, but she did not think anything was broken.
He had given her beatings worse than this one.
“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, leaning against the wall as she tried to get her bearings.
“Normally, one warning is enough for Daryl, but Jeshickah’s been favoring him lately, and he thinks that gives him power. If I’d realized how smug he’s gotten, I would have intercepted him before he could get to you,” Jaguar apologized.
Turquoise shook her head, and then flinched at the pain the movement caused. “Lord Daryl will try to kill you, if you don’t let him have me.”
Jaguar sighed in annoyance. “I don’t like murdering my own kind, but for Daryl, I would gladly make an exception. He knows it, too.”
He tried to offer a hand when she pushed herself away from the wall, but Turquoise avoided it. She was sore, and would feel worse tomorrow after all the bruises and bumps stiffened up, but Lord Daryl had never intentionally given her any permanent injuries. Even the majority of the scars on her arms had been accidental, not part of a beating.
Right now, though, she could not accept help from his kind. She would not let this small injury be a weakness. It was bad enough that she had frozen when fighting him, bad enough that she had lost every defense she had learned in two years the instant he had spoken her old name. She would not let Daryl turn her into weak prey again.
CHAPTER 13
JAGUAR ESCORTED TURQUOISE back to the courtyard, and brought ice from the infirmary for the bruise spreading on her face, as well as some water and some aspirin, all of which she accepted gratefully.
Turquoise forced herself to stretch to avoid the stiffening of her aching muscles. Doing so hurt, but it was better than running into Lord Daryl again when she was too stiff to lift an arm in self-defense.
She was antsy to get the weapon Ravyn had promised her, but Jaguar, while not exactly hovering, refused to leave. He tumbled with Shayla a bit, and then took a break to leaf through some papers.
“Does Midnight own the town it borders?” she asked, trying to kill time as well as to understand.
Jaguar nodded. “Not quite the entire town. Two apartment complexes, most of the stores, and a couple neighborhoods. The local paper is independent, as are the schools and most of the housing.”
“Impressive.” She meant it. Running Midnight was one thing; slaves were relatively easy to handle. Running a town filled with free-willed people must have been more difficult.
She didn’t want to kill him. Turquoise realized that fact quite suddenly. She did not think Jaguar would try to protect Jeshickah, but any vampire might try to destroy two hunters he found in his territory and if he did, Turquoise would have to kill him.
Deal with that later, she told herself.
When and if the problem arose she could think these thoughts. For the moment, Turquoise needed this time to return her body and mind to fighting condition. She couldn’t afford to face Lord Daryl or Jeshickah as unfocused as she was, and she desperately needed to regain control after the last humiliating confrontation.
As Jaguar continued to work, Turquoise ran through a stunted exercise routine, just enough to warm her up. She didn’t have the energy to do her normal full set.
She collapsed onto the moss-covered ground, pausing to catch her breath, and then worked on honing her other senses. Humans relied strongly on sight, but a hunter had to be focused in all ways if she was to survive. Hearing and smell could impart much knowledge about the terrain as well as about the enemy. More important still was the animal instinct for predators.
Humans had no natural predators, and so, like smell, they mostly ignored their latent sixth sense. Strong vampires put off an aura that made even dull-witted humans edgy; a more sensitive human would avoid the leech instinctively.
A trained hunter, like Turquoise, could consciously feel a vampire’s presence. The ability made it harder to be startled, and it sped up reaction time in a fight.
She could feel Jaguar’s presence, faintly, a tingling on the surface of her skin. From the same direction, she could hear the faint rustling of papers, and the soft sound of his breathing.
Breathing? She opened her eyes. Jaguar was paying no attention to her, and so she had an opportunity to observe him. She was startled to realize that he was breathing, regularly, as a human did. While Turquoise had heard them sigh or yawn or express other emotions, she had never known one who had retained this constant human habit. It was a rather endearing detail.
Jaguar seemed to sense Turquoise watching him; he rolled onto his side, for all the world like a cat himself, to look at her. “How are you feeling?”
“A little sore, but I’ll be fine,” she answered. “Get anything productive done?”
Jaguar shook his head. “I never get anything done. If I work in my room, someone usually shows up to threaten my life or sell something to me. If I work out here, this girl gets restless.” He rubbed his hands down Shayla’s muzzle affectionately.
Jaguar’s voice was reflective as he mused aloud, “In the original Midnight, Jeshickah had an albino leopard that lived in the courtyard. Nekita, she was called.”
“I wouldn’t think Jeshickah much of a cat person,” Turquoise responded. She tried to picture Jeshickah tumbling with her leopard as Jaguar did with Shayla, and failed.
“When Jeshickah got angry, she’d tie people to the trees in the courtyard so Nekita could sharpen her claws. Usually the victims were humans, or occasionally shape-shifters. Sometimes they were other vampires.”
Turquoise grimaced. She did not ask — did not want to ask — whether Jaguar had ever been Nekita’s target. “I take it that’s part of the original Midnight you decided to change?”
He nodded. “Shayla is very gentle. She’ll hunt the prey I bring into this place — rabbits mostly or birds if they land here — and she’ll attack if she’s frightened, but if given the chance she would rather retreat than give pain. Only humans have it in their nature to torture.”
“And vampires?”
“You think vampire blood gives one the desire to hurt anoth
He gazed at Shayla fondly, and Turquoise recognized longing there — longing to be so innocent. She wondered how Jaguar had survived so long. Sentimentality was a deadly flaw in a predator. Even Turquoise could recognize Jaguar’s weakness the way a wolf recognizes the stragglers in a herd.
“The more you describe the original Midnight to me, the less I can picture you as one of its fearsome trainers.” Before he could speak, she added, “You don’t seem like someone who would enjoy living there.”
Jaguar looked surprised for a moment. “You mean the type of person who would enjoy power, wealth, luxury, instant obedience, and virtually anything else I ask for?”
“I mean the type of person who would enjoy manipulating another living creature.”
“Why not?” Jaguar responded unnervingly. “We all do what we’re good at, and manipulation is a skill I learned very early.”
Turquoise shook her head. “You’re trying to scare me again.”
“Maybe,” he answered. “Maybe I don’t need to try. Maybe I just need to be honest. I refuse to work as a trainer anymore,” he stated, “but that doesn’t mean I never did, and that is not work any creature can ever forget. The instinct to analyze, manipulate, destroy, and dominate never goes away. Reason and … morals can overlap and control instincts, but they can never destroy them.”
He shook his head, his gaze distant. His voice was soft as he added, “I don’t want to have to break you.”
She didn’t like the way he phrased that.
“If Jeshickah takes over Midnight, she won’t let you stay here as freeblood. Either she’ll kill you, or she’ll have someone tame you.”
“Lord Daryl didn’t manage it,” Turquoise stated, bravado in her voice.
“Daryl is too soft,” Jaguar stated coldly, and this time Turquoise did recoil. Soft? The creature of her nightmares, soft?
Then Jaguar’s voice was in her mind. Daryl decided to act as a trainer because it was profitable, and he liked power. He can’t read people very well, and he certainly has no idea how to control them.