Twenty‑nine

T he lights from Sioux City glittered in the distance like diamonds flung on the ground. Below us stretched mile upon mile of farmland, interrupted every so often by houses, roads, and factories. I wasn’t worried about being spotted. For one, it was night, and with our black clothes at this height, we’d be practically invisible. For another, we were outside the city limits in the rural counties, where agriculture far outnumbered people.

“This was a good idea,” I murmured.

I’d thought we were just going to wait in the demolished family room until Ian announced the all clear, but Bones took me in his arms and blasted us away before Kramer could even poltergeist up some boards to fling after us. Now we were miles away from the house, high enough that I had no one’s thoughts in my head but my own, and it was just the two of us. Finally, for the first time in weeks, we were alone, no one right outside our door or floating threateningly around the house.

Bones tightened his hand on mine. We were spread out like two birds–arms extended, legs straight, the wind rushing around us like an invisible waterfall. This was the first time I’d flown when we didn’t have some pressing agenda to accomplish, and though it was cold up here, I didn’t mind. I felt wonderfully free. The chill in the air was such a small price to pay for that.

“Before we met, I’d fly for hours to clear my head,” Bones said, his voice reaching me even over the rush of wind. “It was the closest I came to finding peace, but though several of my mates could fly, I always went alone. I never wanted to share this with anyone until you.”

I looked over at him, struck by more than the perfection of his features or how the wind made his clothes cling to him like a second skin. His mouth curved in the type of smile I hadn’t seen on him in a long time–carefree, and the emotions rubbing my subconscious were edged with a joy that made me want to move heaven and earth so he could feel it all the time.

“I’m so glad to be here with you like this,” I whispered. It had taken years filled with more trials and pain than I thought I could endure to bring me to the point where I could soar by his side, but I’d do it all again, a thousand times over, to share this moment with him.

He smiled. “Speak up a bit, luv. Can’t hear you with this wind.”

I rolled myself beneath his outstretched arm instead, not stopping until I’d maneuvered myself under his body. He folded his arms around me, our bodies still streamlining across the midnight‑colored sky. Bones was dressed the same way I was, in a black, long‑sleeved shirt with matching pants and boots, but his neck was bare. I pressed my mouth there, savoring his moan as my tongue crept out to taste his skin.

“You remember the first time I did that?” I murmured, slipping my arms around him.

“We were dancing.” His voice was richer with the desire I felt rising in him. “And you were taunting me with how much I wanted you.”

I smiled against his skin, tracing another sensitive spot with my tongue and enjoying his resulting shudder.

“I didn’t know that then. I just thought you were easy.”

His laugh rumbled out, hard arms tightening around me. “I was, but I still wanted you more than I believed possible. You don’t know how mad you drove me those first several weeks. It tormented me seeing you every day and being unable to touch you because you hated me.”

“I hated myself more.” Another whisper, but this one he heard. “You showed me how to accept myself, and I loved you long before I could admit it to you.”

His head dipped, cool lips covering my own. I opened my mouth, seeking his taste, moaning at the velvety softness of his tongue and the two sharp fangs that now protruded from his teeth. Mine slid out as well, grazing his when our kiss deepened, and he slanted his mouth over mine.

His power enveloped me, brushing along my senses with a depth that went well beyond lust. Our tongues twined together, that intimate dance sending waves of sensation through my nerve endings. I slid my leg around his hips, rubbing against him in silent, hungry invitation. His hand moved lower, clasping me closer, and the friction when he arched his hips made starbursts go off in my loins. His body was so hard, so sleek, so filled with pulsating energy, and the cradle of wind against us only aroused me more. This wouldn’t be like those stolen moments in the cellar with Tyler in the pantry at the top of the stairs and an angry ghost hurling threats and curses outside. This moment was ours, and we had as far as we could fly in the wide‑open expanse of sky to savor it.

Unless, of course, this sort of thing couldn’t be done while flying. From the thick length pressing against me combined with the devastating way Bones rocked his hips, he wasn’t teasing. He had more than enough power to keep us aloft, but flying also required concentration. I didn’t think I was supporting myself in the air any longer. I was too focused on the sensual way his tongue tangled with mine and the bursts of pleasure that unfurled every time that bulge rubbed my clitoris. I’d probably have tumbled right out of the sky if not for his arms around me.

Even if he could keep us in the air the whole time, that had its own set of complications. Bashing into some small private aircraft because Bones’s attention was focused on the radar below his waist instead of what was around us would be tragic for everyone. Maybe seeking out a spot in one of the fields below was the best idea. Yet there was something electrifying about touching each other while soaring through the air that made me want to stay up here.

“Is it possible . . . up here?” I asked, tearing my mouth away from his.

“Yes.” A fervent hiss that spiked my desire.

I pulled his head down again, everything in me tensing with expectation when he reached inside my jeans, his other arm still supporting me. Then a moan tore from my throat at his fingers seeking out all the spots that made me burn. I arched against him, gasps spilling out between our kisses, reaching down to grab that lusciously hard flesh beneath his zipper. It overflowed my hand, too thick to close my fingers around, pulsing with his power and the blood Bones directed there. I rubbed him in time to the same rhythmic strokes he used, his mouth absorbing my wordless cries.

That sweet inner ache became more intense with every penetrating stroke of his fingers. I wanted him inside me, but the more I opened my legs, the higher it made my jeans ride up.

“I want you now, Kitten,” he growled, biting my lower lip and sucking the twin drops of blood his fangs drew. Then he raked his tongue across his fangs before closing his mouth over mine, flavoring our kiss with the ambrosia of his blood.

In a smooth motion, Bones flipped me over. His arm crossed between my breasts to support my upper body, and he hooked his feet around my ankles to keep my legs from dangling. Then he brushed my wildly whipping hair back to kiss my throat, using his free hand to tug my jeans and panties down to my thighs. The blast of frigid air on my most sensitive parts was forgotten when I felt the probe of hard flesh behind me. Bones reached down, guiding that long, thick length to my center. I gasped, arching back against him, mentally cursing the bunched material around my thighs that prevented me from opening myself wider to him.

His mouth sealed over the spot on my neck that would be madly jumping with my pulse if I still had one. I rocked back again, trying to encase him inside me, frustration and rapture building when he only teased me with the head of his cock.

“Open your eyes,” he urged me, the words vibrating against my throat.

I didn’t know how he knew I’d closed them–I was facing the other way–but I opened them as asked. Between the red whips of my hair, I saw vast cornfields spread out beneath us, darker and less distinct from our height, but noticeably swaying in the breeze. They were more stunning viewed from above because the distance hid the sight of drying husks and cracked stalks, making them look like miles of an undulating, golden ocean. Seeing those gently swaying fields filled me with a form of peace I hadn’t felt in a while. My roots came from the country, not from concrete or asphalt jungles, and up here, there were no ghosts chasing us, literally or metaphorically.

The sheer splendor of the sight made my chest tighten and tears sting my eyes. All the darkness lately made it easy to forget the world contained more than people trying to hurt other people. It had beauty, too, if you knew where to look–and remembered to open your eyes. Bones’s mouth continued to caress my neck, making me shiver with a longing both passionate and poignant. I could feel his hunger in more than the hard length of flesh intimately pressed against me. His aura surrounded me, passion and need combining to scorch my senses, but he’d waited to take me until I saw something that he knew, somehow, would heal a piece of me I hadn’t known was broken.

There were words for what he meant to me, but if I studied every language ever spoken for the next thousand years, I still wouldn’t find enough of them to describe it.

I reached down, clasping my hands around his and squeezing, wishing he could still read my mind so he’d know even a portion of what I couldn’t put into sentences. His lips moved against my throat in what felt like a smile.

“I love you, Kitten,” he whispered.

I was about to reply in kind, but only a gasp came out because he sank his fangs into my neck while thrusting deeply at the same time. The double impact ignited my senses, setting my nerve endings ablaze. The grip I had on his hands tightened, more ragged noises escaping me as he pulled out very, very slowly–and then thrust forward hard enough to wring a shout from me.

Vampire body heat didn’t rise, and the cold air around us probably meant I’d clock in under room temperature; nonetheless, I felt like I grew warmer. Another tantalizingly slow withdrawal built that sensation of heat, and when it was followed by a swift, deep thrust, I felt like my skin would start to spark. The puddle of material around my thighs kept my legs together, but that meant I could grip him tighter, and I did. The extra swell of pleasure cresting over my emotions let me know how much he liked that, so I kept doing it, squeezing him with every muscle I had when his flesh slid out inch by achingly unhurried inch.

“Don’t. Stop,” he growled.

I tried to keep my eyes open, to look at the stunning canvas we were soaring above, but the mounting ecstasy kept dragging them shut. It built, drawing from the slightest movement of his body as well as those fierce, rapturous thrusts, until my entire body shuddered from the intensity. His arms were like steel bands around me, molding me to him hard enough to bruise, but I wanted him to hold me even closer. Each slide of his fangs into my neck seemed to send more heat through me, each thrust coiling the pleasure tighter in my loins. I didn’t want him to stop, either. I needed to feel his flesh merging into mine, tried to hold him there with every clench of my thighs and inner muscles. His groans inflamed me, but that was nothing compared to his aura raking through me, merging his feelings with mine. Through that, I knew exactly when to move faster. When to let go of his hands and grip his hips to hold him to me, then I knew nothing except shattering ecstasy when he lost control and took me over the edge with him.

For several moments afterward, I couldn’t move. I could only cling to him, savoring every last tremor of his climax and the continual, tingling ripples from mine. Finally, my lids fluttered open. At some point, I must have closed my eyes again. We were no longer over the golden, swaying cornfields, but a patchwork of roads, thankfully too high for the streetlights to present any collision issue–or embarrassing illumination.

“Do you know where we are?” I murmured, reaching up to run my hand through his hair.

He turned his head, nuzzling me through the material of my sleeve.

“Not a clue.”

My laughter was breathy from afterglow. “Poor navigator you might be, but you are one hell of a pilot.”

His chuckle mingled with mine. The angry blare from a horn drifted up to us, a reminder of the real world waiting to intrude, but I closed my eyes and rested my head back against him.

The real world could wait a few minutes longer.

Thirty

O n October 26, not four hours after Bones and I put the finishing touches on the new limestone/quartz/moissanite trap, my cell phone beeped from a text. I was in the shower, rinsing suds from my hair and trying to ignore how the water seemed to get icier every day. No electricity meant no hot water. If the carbon monoxide exhaust wouldn’t kill Tyler, I’d set up a generator in the house just to be able to take a hot shower again.

I continued rinsing my hair, not rushing to read the text because it was about the time Denise would send her daily updates, letting me know everything was okay on their end. If it were urgent, she wouldn’t text. To conserve the battery in my phone, we didn’t chat verbally, and to be honest, it was easier to text back “no news” than admit out loud that we still hadn’t found the last woman. All of us watched the days count down on the calendar with increasing dread.

Kramer hadn’t been coming around as much in the past week. The knowledge that he was probably splitting his time between readying his accomplice for the woman’s kidnapping and escalating his torment of her was enough to make me feel like I had a permanent case of nausea. Unless we found her, that woman had just over a hundred hours to live.

It was just me and Bones at the house right now. Ian, Tyler, and my mom were at the Southern Hills Mall. Ian prowled about seeking his own version of food, and my mother kept watch over Tyler just in case Kramer happened to stumble upon them. Hopefully soon, my mother would follow Ian’s lead and vary her diet. I half wondered if that was why he insisted on going out so frequently and taking them, although maybe it was just a case of boredom combined with cabin fever.

After I got out of the shower and dried off with a few brisk, efficient swipes, I grabbed my cell from the countertop and read the text. My first thought was that it was gibberish. Letters, symbols, and numbers were run together without spaces, some repeating, some not. Maybe Denise’s phone got jiggled around in her purse or pants pocket and my number was redialed by mistake; I’d butt‑dialed people by accident before. But this wasn’t coming from Denise’s cell. It was from Elisabeth’s number. I looked more closely at the message.

6THST5360#(SC5360WEST^THSC5360WEST6THSTSC

It took me another two rereads before I figured out the pattern. “Fifty‑three sixty West Sixth Street, Sioux City,” I sounded out. Then louder, excitement running through my veins like a bolt of lightning. “Fifty‑three sixty West Sixth Street, Sioux City. Holy shit, she did it! Elisabeth found her!”

But why was her message such a mess? When Elisabeth texted Francine’s address weeks ago, it had been neat and distinct. This looked like she’d been trying to text while juggling at the same time. What would cause her to send a message so garbled that she’d risk the chance of my not understanding it?

By the time Bones came into the bedroom, I’d figured it out, and I met his gaze with a mixture of hope and grimness.

“Elisabeth found her,” I repeated. “And it looks like she texted the woman’s address while trying to fight Kramer off, so Kramer knows she found her, which means he also knows that we’ll be on our way.”

E ven with the direct air route we’d take, it would still be a good twenty minutes until we got to Prospect Hill, the neighborhood in Sioux City where that address derived from. Bones could fly faster, but I couldn’t, and if he burned through his power getting both us there quicker, that would mean he’d be running on less reserves when it was time to make our speedy exit. We already had to expend energy making sure we were high enough to avoid being spotted by commuters in the after‑work, rush‑hour traffic. It wouldn’t be fully dark for another hour, but even though the early evening was still light enough to raise our profile, waiting wasn’t an option.

It seemed like forever before we spotted the white monument that marked the Prospect Hill area. Seeing the MapQuest overview before gave us an idea of which area to land in, but obviously people didn’t have house numbers conveniently displayed on their roofs. Bones took us above where we thought her street was and zoomed downward in a straight line, landing us in the middle of some tall hedges. The ground shuddered, and our feet went ankle deep into the earth from an impact far harder than usual. I immediately crouched into a kneeling position, helping to distribute some of the force. It still hurt like hell, but with the area bordering downtown and lots of people window‑shopping, seeking dinner, or otherwise strolling around, we couldn’t afford to glide to an easy landing and be spotted. With almost every cell phone having recording capabilities, we’d be on the news and Internet before you could say compromised supernatural security. Then not only would we be in deep shit with the vampire Law Guardians, but Madigan, with his facial recognition software programmed to flag my image, would also know exactly where we were.

“All right, luv?” Bones asked, shaking off any injuries from the equivalent of being dropped like a bowling ball from five thousand feet faster than I could.

“Fine,” I gritted out, wincing at the pain that shot through my back when I stood up. I might’ve saved my legs by kneeling, but my angle must’ve been wrong, because I heard several things pop in my spine upon standing. A few sharp tingles later, and the pain was gone. Nothing beat being a vampire when it came to healing abilities.

Bones took some sage out of his pockets and lit it. I did the same, careful not to let any of the burnt edges fall to the ground. There were dry, crinkled leaves everywhere, and starting a fire would be a great way to draw a lot of unwanted attention to us.

We came out of the hedges and started walking toward the nearest intersection as though we were a normal couple out for a stroll. From the mutters I picked up on, the people closest to the spot where we’d landed were wondering about the noise and the momentary vibration they’d felt, but thankfully hadn’t connected those things with two people dropping out of the sky. With how fast we’d descended, we would have been nothing more than a brief streak even to someone who’d been looking right at that spot.

“That’s Cook Street,” Bones said low, nodding at the street sign in front of us. “Sixth should be coming up . . .”

His voice trailed off, tension ringing from his aura like invisible fire alarms. I followed the direction of his stare, dread creeping up my spine.

A tunic‑clad man floated in the middle of the street, white hair unmoving in the breeze. Cars drove right through him, the drivers unaware that they’d just come in contact with one of history’s most prolific serial killers. And even though he was too far away for me to see his eyes, I knew the Inquisitor was staring right at us.

Our arrival in the neighborhood hadn’t gone unnoticed by everyone.

“Bones,” I said softly, “I’ll draw him off. You go get her, then meet up with me.”

His lips barely moved, but I could still hear his hushed reply. “I’m not leaving you.”

We only had seconds before Kramer attacked. Already the ghost was starting toward us, and I knew it wasn’t to shake our hands, and say, “Howdy, neighbors!”

“You’re a man; not tempting enough for him,” I whispered rapidly. “But you’re stronger and faster than I am, so you’re that woman’s best chance if she’s still alive. Now quit arguing and go. ”

So saying, I handed my sage to Bones and ran right toward Kramer, making sure to wave my arms so he’d see I didn’t carry any of that ghostly flamethrower anymore. Behind me, Bones ground out a curse, but I didn’t turn around. I was right, and he knew it. He might not like it, but that didn’t change the reality.

Now, to get Kramer to come after me instead of protecting his final target. Unless he’d killed her already, what happened with Francine should have shown him that he couldn’t stop us from taking her. I hoped he decided to unleash some of his frustration over that on me instead of spending those last few moments with her.

“Hey, Casper the Ugly Ghost!” I called out when Kramer seemed more focused on what Bones was doing than on my closing in on him. “Bet I can whack that stubbly jaw before you can catch me!”

That turned the heads of the other people on the sidewalk, but my attention was all for the hazy figure in the monkish tunic. I was now close enough to see Kramer’s nostrils flare at my reminding him of the two punches I’d landed during the brief time when he’d been solid. He glanced behind me again, though, as if still deciding whom to attack. Take the bait! I urged him, then dove to cover the last several feet between us.

“Here comes bitch slap number three!” I announced, swinging my hand through his jaw.

He wasn’t solid, so my fist flew through harmlessly, but either the gesture or the words made up his mind. Kramer spat out a curse and rounded on me, his own arm shooting out.

I ducked, but not fast enough. Pain burst through the side of my head, the energy he managed to harness feeling even stronger than a punch from solid flesh would have. I caught myself before barreling into a store’s front window, crashing into the wall instead. At least that only chipped off some plaster instead of shattering glass. Then I spun around to face the ghost.

“That was pathetic,” I snapped. “I don’t even need sage to fight you. You’re pussy enough all on your own.”

His face twisted with rage, and a torrent of German erupted from his mouth. I took that as my signal to run for it, darting through the throngs of people going about their business on this lovely autumn evening.

I had made it as far an outdoor sports bar when it felt like a wrecking ball crashed into my back. It sent me flying forward, completely off‑balance. I managed to turn enough to avoid the family with the small children and instead crashed into a table with several young men crouched over beer pitchers and chicken wings. The table broke under my impact, foamy liquid, glasses, and orange‑smeared chicken parts splattering over me. The four men who’d been seated around it stared down at me in disbelief, two of them still holding chicken in their hands.

“What’s your problem , lady?” one of them gasped.

They couldn’t see that a ghost had blasted me into them, but did they really think I’d just swan dived into their table out of boredom? From my vantage point on the floor, I could see Kramer approaching, his form disappearing every time he had to poltergeist through someone in his way. I glanced back at the quartet of young men, desperately trying to think of something that would make them and the other patrons run away before the ghost got here.

“I’m on the rag and desperate for attention,” I improvised, remembering Graham’s derisive thoughts from that day at my old house. “So if you want to live, get the hell away from me!”

With that, I shoved the remains of the table at them, doing it slow enough so they could avoid it. They leapt out of its path and started backing away. Thankfully, they weren’t the only ones. The outdoor seating area quickly began to clear of people.

“Crazy bitch,” I heard, but my attention was all for the ghost. He was only a dozen feet away now, his mouth opening in a snarl. I needed to get him clear of these people before he decided to start killing some of them just for fun.

“Come and get me, limp dick!” I yelled, vaulting over the wall. A less‑crowded section of shops was on the other side, parked cars lining the streets but their owners mostly elsewhere. I didn’t look back to see if Kramer had taken the bait but continued my stream of insults while running flat out. “I know that whole bit about witches depriving men of their virile members was just your excuse for not being able to get it up unless you could–”

Something smashed into my back, sending an explosion of pain through me. It also threw me off‑balance again. I ended up skidding down the sidewalk face‑first, my velocity carrying me several feet before whatever he’d done to my back healed enough for me to stagger to my feet. As soon as I did, an invisible sledgehammer landed in my gut, knocking me back to my knees.

Someone screamed. I couldn’t see who because my vision was blurry and filled with red. I spat out blood, sickening crunching noises sounding with that slight movement of my jaw. My face burned like it had been set on fire, but I got up again, braced for the blow I knew would come. Get away from the people, away from the people, I repeated to myself. No matter what he did to me, I’d heal. They wouldn’t.

I made it a few feet, barely seeing where I was going because though I could feel my face mending, I still had blood in my eyes. Then I heard an ominous metallic boom and white‑hot pain exploded all through my body. Lights flashed in my vision, and my ears rang with the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass. Now I really couldn’t see, but the smell of gasoline and the tremendous weight pressing on me let me diagnose what had just happened.

Motherfucking ghost upended a car on me!

I didn’t have time to be stunned at how much stronger the proximity to Halloween had made Kramer because the acrid scent warned me that I needed to move now. The ghost was probably busy trying to score a lighter or make lots of sparks to ignite all that flammable liquid contained in the fuel tank on top of me. I’d had a car explode next to me once before, and it had almost killed me. Being trapped underneath one if it went off? I’d be all the way dead, no doubt about it.

I tensed every muscle in my body, ignoring the flares of pain that were multiple broken bones trying to knit back together, and heaved up with all of my strength. Agony flashed through me, making me momentarily dizzy, but the weight moved off as far as my arms and legs could stretch. Another blisteringly painful heave, and I slithered out from under it, letting it fall back down with a crash once I was clear.

Several blinks later, and I could see enough to be dismayed at the cluster of people gathered nearby, each of them displaying varying degrees of shock. I didn’t see any phones held up capturing footage, though, so I had to be grateful for that. Then I caught sight of someone else staring at me. Kramer floated in the empty space along the road where the car had been parked, his green gaze locked onto me with unrelenting intensity.

I didn’t know why he wasn’t zooming in for another of those bone‑cracking energy shots, but damned if I’d just stand here and pose for him until he got around to it. I whirled, pointing myself in the least‑populated direction of the street, and started to run. More bones crunched, and my skin felt like I’d been staked on an anthill before I finished healing, but I didn’t stop running, waiting for the next blast of pain that would signal Kramer’s catching up with me.

I heard a whoosh, then something hard pressed into my gut. My instant defensive reaction stilled when I recognized the power flooding around me, crackling the air with hidden currents. The ground left my feet as I was yanked upward, one strong arm around my midsection, the other locked around someone screaming in a high‑pitched, feminine voice.

That scream was the sweetest music I’d heard because it meant Bones had gotten to Kramer’s last intended victim in time to save her.

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 1041