CHAPTER 17

"CATHERINE, PUT THE BOY DOWN," Daryl commanded, "and I won't have to hurt him."

She reluctantly set Tommy down, though his small, trembling hand gripped hers tightly enough that her fingers were going numb. "Tommy, run," she commanded, pushing him away.

The boy hesitated, long enough that the creature reached forward and twined pale fingers in Tommy's soft brown hair.

"You love your sister, Thomas?" the creature asked softly, kneeling so he was looking the young child in the eye.

"Let him go!" she shrieked, launching herself at the pair, trying to separate them. The creature simply glanced in her direction and backhanded her casually, a light tap compared to what he would do later.

He released the boy and caught Catherine's arm as she tried to hit him, brushing his fingers across her cheek. She jerked back from his touch. "Catherine-" he began, but before he could continue she lashed out, striking him in the throat with all the force of terror, hatred, and fury.

The creature cursed, releasing her, and she was off in a sprint. She had barely reached the driveway when it caught up, and a shove sent her sprawling. Her palms and knees tore open as she struck the pavement, less than a foot away from her father's body. Where was Tommy? Had he gotten away, or . . .

"Catherine." He dragged her to her feet, his grip on her wrist bruising. "Never hit me." He hit back. She tasted blood in her mouth for a moment before she fell into the encroaching darkness.

Turquoise woke to find herself coated in a sheen of cold sweat. She was lying on a bed in a room she did not know. The dream left a sour taste in her mouth, and agitation in her mind.

She sat up quickly, and was rewarded by a series of shooting pains.

Sunlight was streaming in through the nearby windows. She closed the curtains, which caused the throbbing in her head to subside a bit, and pushed her bitter history from her thoughts.

Slowly, more recent memories returned to her. Nathaniel had picked her and Eric up, and brought them here. Driving through it, the town had seemed as familiar and as alien as all small towns were to her, though she hadn't seen much before she had slept.

Turquoise stood and forced herself to stretch. She walked to Eric's room, wincing at each step she took; a glance through his partly open door revealed that he was still sleeping soundly. Then, having rea.s.sured herself that he was safe, she took a hot shower and put on clean clothes. "Is this yours?" she had asked, when Nathaniel had handed her the key to the house.

He had nodded slightly. "I haven't stayed here in a while, though. At the moment, it belongs to this girl here, " he had added, tossing her a leather wallet. Examining the contents, she had found a license with her picture on it, a platinum Visa, a bankcard, a library card, and three twenty-dollar bills. "Since you can't tap into your accounts from here without being traced, I thought you could use a new ident.i.ty with access to a little cash, " Nathaniel had explained. "I also took the liberty of swiping some of your clothing from your Bruja house; it's in an overnight bag in the master bedroom's closet."

She hadn't ached so much then. During her sleep, all the muscles she had abused the evening before had stiffened.

The house was a small one-story, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, and a wraparound porch. Though clean, it had a feeling of emptiness that their presence had not yet eased.

The kitchen had a pale blue-marble linoleum floor, dark blue counters, and pine cupboards. The refrigerator was completely empty, and warm; Turquoise had to find the plug and turn the thing on. The burners on the stove looked unused, and the cupboards were equally bare. There were no pots or pans, no silverware, no paper towels or plastic bags, no toaster, and no can opener-a vampire's house. Nathaniel didn't need to eat here.

There was, however, a phone and a phonebook. Pizza sounded like a grand breakfast. But first she had to call Nathaniel and find out what the h.e.l.l was going on. She dialed his number from memory, and waited three rings before remembering that it was midmorning and Nathaniel was probably asleep.

An answering machine clicked on, and a mechanical voice informed her, "There is no answer. Please leave a message after the tone."

"Nathaniel, I need to talk to you. Give me a call whenever you can. " She hesitated, and then awkwardly added, "Thanks,"

before hanging up.

Nathaniel didn't approve of thanks. He always a.s.sured his clients that he did everything for his own gain, not theirs, and that grat.i.tude was therefore out of place. Turquoise had believed him, until today. Twice, once when he had taken her from Daryl and now with all this, Nathaniel had helped her without asking for payment.

Turquoise shook her head. He would call or he wouldn't; until then, she might as well get settled and fed.

She didn't have long to wait before Eric emerged from his room. His stomach was rumbling as loudly as hers, and he had no objection to takeout.

"I'll go shopping sometime today," she a.s.sured him, as they munched on their cheese pizzas. "If I can find a grocery store." She frowned. "And someplace to buy silverware." Shopping was probably her least favorite thing to do. A waste of time, by her book, it was an excellent practice in tedium.

Eric nodded. "I saw a little houseware shop in town. We drove right past it. I can walk there."

Startled, Turquoise had to remind herself that Eric had been the human liaison to Jaguar 's town from Midnight. He was young, and depended on others for security, but he had taken on adult responsibilities in Midnight and hadn't lost that experience now that he had left-temporarily anyway. Once Jeshickah was no longer a threat, Eric would probably want to return to Jaguar's Midnight.

His life was there.

"I'll drive you," Turquoise offered. "I don't want to split up." Eric's gaze fell, and she recognized that he was hurt. He didn't want her to treat him like a kid. "Anyway, we need too much for you to carry it all back," she a.s.sured him. He didn't look like he bought the explanation, but she couldn't soothe his ego. He didn't think like a kid, or act like a kid, but that didn't mean she felt any less protective.

Eric's houseware store proved a success; they found all they needed to stock the kitchen easily and hit the grocery store next.

Turquoise wasn't a picky cook-she usually ate cereal in the mornings and something canned in the evenings-so Eric insisted he would cook. She trailed along behind, unable to stop herself from scanning the aisles as if looking for threats.

Her eye paused at a boy about her age, who looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn't place him. He was browsing the Asian specialty food section, but happened to glance at her as she pa.s.sed.

The boy did a double take, and then turned. Turquoise started to fall instinctively into a fighting stance before she reminded herself that this boy was human and she was in a public area.

"Cathy?" His voice held surprise, and wonder. "I haven't seen you since . . . I guess since I went away to college. How are you?"

She looked at Eric as if for help, but he was without answer. "I'm okay," she answered vaguely. Who was this guy? Clearly, someone who had known her before Daryl. So many memories from that time had faded, unnaturally so. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," he answered, apparently unaware of her discomfort. "Graduated last spring. I'm a history major." He laughed. "For all the good it will do me."

History . . . yes, she vaguely recalled a friend interested in history. Oh, she did remember this guy now. She had dated him, when she had been a junior and he had been a senior. But she could not for her life remember his name.

He had been away at college on her eighteenth birthday, when all h.e.l.l had entered her life.

"Where are you now?" he asked.

"What?" Great, intelligent conversation, Turquoise.

"You were looking at Smith when I fell off the edge of the earth," he reminded her cheerfully. "Did you end up going there?" She was spared the need to respond when the boy noticed Eric. "Is that Tommy?"

Turquoise shook her head, and her voice was just a little too sharp as she answered, "No." Seeing the boy's confusion, she lied, "He's the neighbor's kid. I'm baby-sitting for him."

"Oh. That's cool," he answered.

She had to get out of here. The last thing she ever wanted to do was chat with Greg.

Greg. That was his name. Randomly, she remembered helping him with a senior prank. They had stolen one of the dissection rats from the bio lab, put bread around it, covered it with plastic wrap, and planted it in the middle of the sandwich bar in the cafeteria.

What kind of bad luck had put him into her path now?

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

The words came out a little sharp. Greg looked startled, but responded with the same light humor. "I've got an apartment in town. I know, I said I'd never live in a small town, but I guess I was wrong." He checked his watch, and winced. "I've got to go, but I'll give you a call sometime. We should get back in touch. Do you live nearby?"

Didn't he know Catherine Minate was dead? Her body had never been found, of course, but she was as dead as any corpse in the ground. Turquoise still had some of her memories, though all of them had faded to a frightening extent, but she was not the innocent, mischievous girl who had planned pranks and gone to parties with Greg.

"I'm in town, but I just moved in. . . . I don't know the number." That at least was honest. Please, leave me alone, she added mentally. If she hadn't been worried about running into him again, as she was likely to do if they were living in the same small town, she would have lied. She did not know why she felt the incredibly strong desire to run, but at the moment, she wanted to flee from this specter of her past.

"Oh, well, my apartment should be in the phone book, " Greg said, undaunted. More quietly, he added, "I've missed you, Cathy."

So have I, Turquoise thought. She missed Cathy Minate more than anyone else could.

"I'll see you around," she said as Greg hoisted his basket of groceries.

"Yeah, I'll see you."

She fled the aisle as soon as he had turned away. Quickly Eric finished shopping, and just as quickly they paid and hurried to Turquoise's car.

"So who was that?" Eric asked.

"An old friend," Turquoise answered vaguely. She looked at the store, but could not see Greg from where they were parked.

Eric turned toward her with worry drawn on his face. "He talked like you two were close."

"He and Cathy were close," Turquoise amended.

Eric frowned. "Aren't you Cathy?"

"No," Turquoise argued. "Cathy was . . . stupid. She couldn't defend herself. Blissfully ignorant," she added dryly.

"Innocent. Not stupid."

"What makes you so wise?" Turquoise grumbled, mostly to herself. She started the car, attempting to drop the conversation.

Eric wouldn't let it drop; he answered her question. "It's the same thing the vampires do," he answered, "and I've spent a lot of time around them. You don't want to think of Cathy as you because she had weaknesses. You're a hunter, so you're not allowed to have weaknesses. A predator doesn't like to admit it's ever possible it can be prey." Quietly, he added, "And maybe you don't want to think that the girl Greg dated was capable of killing."

Turquoise realized her knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel too hard. She bit back a sharp criticism, remembering at the last moment that she had agreed to bring him, and had not been forced into it. "Cathy couldn't make herself crush a spider walking on her bedside table," she argued, her voice tight. "She was weak, and Daryl destroyed her."

"Cathy is you," Eric a.s.serted again. "Daryl couldn't destroy her. He just made her a little harder, a little more scared-yes, scared," he continued, ignoring Turquoise's protest. "Cathy didn't need to hunt because she wasn't afraid of life."

"Okay, then I'm scared," Turquoise growled. "But I can't go back. I know what's out there, and if I turn my back on it, that won't make it disappear."

"You'd rather admit Daryl won than admit you were ever prey," Eric said softly.

"Daryl did win-that battle." She was nearly shouting now. "He murdered my father and my ten-year-old brother in front of me, and I couldn't save them. I couldn't fight him. I couldn't do anything. I spent one year in his house, little better than a pet, and I couldn't do anything about it. Cathy died in there-her innocence, her illusions, her dreams-"

"Your dreams," Eric interrupted. "What are you now? A hunter; I know that. Anything else?"

The question stymied her. Anything else? Turquoise Draka was a high-ranking member of Crimson, and one of two compet.i.tors for the position of leader. She had a web of contacts and a.s.sociates, but friends? Those were scarce, if they existed at all. She had a love of the hunt, an addiction to the sweet rush of adrenaline. Anything else?

Probably another ten or fifteen years of life. Though the lifespan of a member of Bruja was slightly longer, most hunters didn 't live past their mid-thirties. Age could catch up, making the hunter slow. But mostly death came in the form of the inevitable slipup.

Carelessness. Human imperfection.

"Let it drop, Eric," she ordered, or tried to. Her voice wasn't hard enough to be commanding.

"What did Cathy want to do?" Eric pressed, his voice more gentle now.

"I said, let it drop."

Cathy had wanted to help people. She had wanted to go into medicine, or teaching. She had wanted to work with children; Turquoise remembered that. She had cared about everything.

And everything had been able to hurt her.

Some people use things-people, objects. They destroy. You're a creator, a builder, a healer, not a user. That line came to her mind time and again, no matter how wrong it now was.

Now she was a killer, a mercenary. And that was all.

CHAPTER 18

NATHANIEL WAS WAITING in her living room when she got home. Lounging on the couch in jeans, a T-shirt, and a denim jacket, he looked casual and chic at the same time. Moreover, he looked comfortable, as if brightly lit suburban homes were a natural part of his life.

He rose to his feet like a cat, in one smooth movement, to greet them. "Eric, it's good to see you safe. Milady Turquoise, you look like he's been tugging your chain."

"A bit." Turquoise worked to wipe the frown from her brow.

Eric looked between the two of them, and then announced, "I'm going to put stuff away."

"I can help-"

He shook off her offer. "No problem."

"That boy is about a hundred years old," Turquoise sighed.

"Too much time around vampires," Nathaniel agreed. "He's not worse off than you are, though." In response to her wary expression, he added, "I've no plan to chastise you. Your life is your own."

Not wanting to dwell, Turquoise broke right into her questions. "Did I get set up for a suicide mission?"

Nathaniel sat back down. "If you were after Jeshickah, yes. There are vampires thousands of years older than she is that would love to destroy her, but know better than to put the knife in place themselves."