Laurie London - Embraced by Blood

The woman screamed, and this time her voice found itself.

Lily was on her in an instant. She brushed a hand over the woman’s forehead, silencing her. “You saw two drunks in the alley. Nothing more.” Lily wrenched open the door as if it had never been locked. “Now get back to bed and stop this sleepwalking. Hon is waiting inside and wants a little lovin’ from you.”

The woman blinked a few times. A glassy, faraway look replaced the terror in her watery gray eyes. Clutching the front of her housecoat with a gnarled hand, she shuffled inside a little quicker than Lily had expected, a faint touch of pink coloring her cheeks. The door closed softly behind her.

Lily got to the victim just as two unmarked blackpanel vans turned into the alley and screeched to a stop. A medic with a crash kit and a member of the capture team stepped out and jogged toward her.

“Over here, fellas.” She pointed behind her and strode out of the alley, thoughts whirling.

For God’s sake, this was a simple assignment. What was going on with her? She glanced over her shoulder as Kip followed her into the night. She might as well be a trainee, too, not an elite Class-A Tracker for the Governing Council.

“Ms. DeGraff, why are you walking that way? Your car is parked down the hill over there.”

She tossed him the keys. “Go ahead and take it back to the field office for me. I need the fresh air. Good job tonight, by the way. We’ll review things in the classroom later.”

IF THE GUY GOING POSTAL on him in the hardware store hadn’t been Region Commander Tristan Santiago, Alfonso would’ve let the two-by-fours over his shoulder “accidentally” smack the asshole in the head. Instead, he threw the lumber onto a flatbed handcart and headed over to the flooring department.

“Look, I told you everything I know. DBs are after Trackers. Don’t know how, don’t know where, although I assume it’s somewhere local since they mentioned the islands. Hell, I don’t even know if it’s true. It’s not like I got the information from a reliable source. They were greenhorns and, for all I know, they could’ve been blowing smoke.”

“And you wasted them before you got any real intel.” Santiago’s voice sounded like he’d just chain-smoked a pack of bare-ass Camels, although Alfonso knew he never touched the stuff. “What the fuck is up with that?”

A woman pushing a shopping cart covered her child’s ears and flashed Santiago an indignant expression. For a moment, it looked as if she was going to scold him, but then she quickened her pace and sped down the aisle. That was nothing, Alfonso wanted to tell her. If they hadn’t been in public, the guy would be cursing in three languages.

With his eyes narrowed to slits and his own anger barely in check, Alfonso glared at Santiago. “What are you talking about? I had no choice but to—” Why the hell was he sitting here justifying what he’d done? He looked around and lowered his voice. “Listen. I don’t work for you any longer, remember? Pavlos is finito . My obligation to the Council has been met. I can show you the documentation if you don’t believe me. They did it up real nice. Parchment paper, fancy lettering. Hell, it even came wrapped in a goddamn scroll. Figured I was doing you a favor letting you know what I stumbled across. Guess I was sorely mistaken. Why don’t you go back to Vancouver and leave me the hell alone?”

Santiago’s jaw muscle flexed over and over, like he was chewing on what he was about to say. Or more likely, he was pissed off and trying not to flash fang. “You know, I let you have your time after everything that went down last year. Recoup from your injuries—that leg of yours looks fine now, by the way. I wanted you to decompress in peace and quiet—”

“How terribly considerate and thoughtful of you.” Alfonso threw a box of drywall screws on top of the lumber and resisted the urge to rub his knee. Maybe his limp wasn’t as noticeable as he’d thought.

Santiago continued as if Alfonso hadn’t spoken. “But that was a year ago—” more than that, but who was counting? “—and we could really use your help now.”

“So you insult me, then you offer me a job? That’s a funny way to conduct an interview. And why are you the one asking me, anyway? Why isn’t Dom? Isn’t he technically the Seattle field team leader?”

“Your brother’s in Australia, helping with the opening of the new Carpentaria field office down there. He’s not scheduled to be back up here until after the Night of Wilding. The baby’s not due till after the first of the year.”

Alfonso sighed. His brother’s wife, Mackenzie, had just started wearing maternity clothes the last time he’d seen her. He’d commissioned a few paintings from her that depicted the hill country of his ancestral home in Spain. As soon as he finished building his house, a smaller version of his boyhood villa, he planned to hang her artwork in the entryway.

Not that he had any illusions that this tribute could atone for what he’d done to his parents. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even be around long enough to enjoy it. Sooner or later his blood assassin was bound to track him, and he was far from confident that he’d survive that meet-up. Selected as youthlings by the Darkbloods’ inner circle, these vampires were raised in the art of killing and torture. Strong, fast and lethal, they didn’t make mistakes.

“If what you discovered is true,” Santiago said, “we’ve got a big problem on our hands. The Longest Night is only a few short weeks away.”

“Don’t you have a tech person who can break into that game forum to figure out what’s going on?”

“I’ve asked Cordell to look into it, but frankly it’s a wonder Darkbloods haven’t overrun the city by now. With Dom and Mitchell out of the country, we’re understaffed. We could really use you.”

Alfonso shoved a hand through his hair. The guy was so friggin’ dramatic.

“What part of no don’t you understand?” Alfonso looked over the various diamond blades, trying to find one that would fit his particular wet saw. His current blade was dulled from all the tile-cutting he’d been doing and needed to be replaced.

“I understand plenty, starting with the fact that you have nothing going on. What’s so important you’d turn this opportunity down? Tinkering on that house you’re building? A man needs goals in his life. Something to work toward. He needs direction.”

“Yeah, well, I do have goals. They all revolve around getting my house finished.” And finished quickly. Since those losers had guessed his identity, it wouldn’t be long until the assassin tracked him, too. Then he’d be on the run again. He’d always known it’d happen, that his assassin would eventually figure out he wasn’t living in Europe, that those leads Alfonso had meticulously created were false. But he really hoped to finish the house before that day arrived.

Yeah, recreating Casa en las Colinas probably was a stupid dream. He’d been a fool to let his sister-in-law talk him into setting down some roots—even if it was temporary. Give him a chance to meet his niece or nephew. Attempt to repair his relationship with his brother. What had he hoped to accomplish by building this house, anyway? Impressing Dom? Earning his respect? Getting him to understand that he did honor their parents’ memory, despite everything he’d done? Maybe it’s time for a reality check—forget about the house and disappear . He could mail the keys to Mackenzie, and she could have it finished. Or not.

“And then what? You gonna take up fly-fishing?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m serious, Alfonso. Your expertise on Darkblood matters is unequaled by anyone in the Agency here in North America. It’s a shame you’re pissing away that talent and knowledge while you swing hammers at a pipe dream.”