Tribes Of The Vampire - The Jaded Hunter Part 7

"Yes, Mr. Fletcher," the stunned woman mumbled before hurrying about her duties.

Three days pa.s.sed and Jaden was exhausted. Mack sent word that he was going to be late and Rick gallantly declared that he would stay with her until Mack's return. Rick not only attacked her by sword, but by fist and knife. She was sure he thought fighting romantic and at one time she might have been inclined to agree with him. But, nowadays, it just wore her out. She had enough fighting in her life. All she wanted to do now was sleep.

Rick never let her out of his sight. Jaden suspected he was wearing her out on purpose to keep her from leaving the apartment.

Little did he know that keeping her indoors didn't protect her. The one she should fear the most proved he had no problem getting to her. There was nowhere to run.

Tyr didn't return, though he did find himself a comfortable place within her thoughts. Sometimes she would imagine she was attacking him and go at Rick full force. Luckily she remembered the man she fought, though Rick never once asked for mercy, and let up before she hurt him.

Slipping undetected into Mack's library Jaden sighed with relief. Rick was out of the house. She sent him on an errand across the city to a small bakery to pick up sandwiches. It was a needless task, but it bought her enough time to snoop through Mack's library. With the ambiguous directions she gave it would take him at least two hours to find the place and get back.

Jaden ignored the smell of her sweat-drenched s.h.i.+rt. She flipped on the light. Her feet were silent as she moved over the carpet.

Coming to the desk, she laid her latest weapon, a knife, on top. Mack was a paranoid man, but also a prudent one. He wouldn't put cameras anywhere he did business and Jaden wasn't afraid of being discovered snooping. The servants had finished with the upstairs cleaning that very morning.

Within moments Jaden riffled through his desk, using the tip of her knife to pick the locks. There was nothing terribly interesting hidden in the drawers. A few folders with weapon speculations--from the mundane to the fantastic--were on top. Financial statements, business proposals, boring rows of number-filled ledgers fitted into the others. Leaving the desk as she found it, Jaden ignored the computer.

Mack only used his computer for research, often claiming not to trust his line of work to the susceptibility of hackers. Beyond a few simple texts, the system would be empty.

Jaden ran her eyes over the bookshelves, freezing as she listened to a maid pa.s.s by her door. To her relief, she felt the woman move on without stopping.

Jaden turned to the sundial behind the desk. Running her fingers over the top, she frowned. The safe didn't move. She continued on over the room, running her hands lightly over the walls and under paintings, lifting the edges of the rug for clues. She even scanned the bookshelf, knowing from the hours that she spent pulling books from it that there would be no secrets hidden there.

She paused in her investigation only to pull down the book on Dark Knights from the top. Within seconds she copied the foreign description of Tyr onto a piece of paper and shoved it in her pocket. She planned on translating it later.

Jaden found nothing else to capture her interest and sunk wearily into her uncle's thick leather chair. Leaning forward, she poured herself a gla.s.s of scotch from his decanter and swallowed it in several long gulps. The liquid burned pleasantly down her throat.

She blinked heavily to keep her thoughts clear. She refilled her gla.s.s and rested it on her stomach as she spun her heels into the ground. The chair turned slowly until she faced the safe.

She eyed the large base carefully, looking for grooves in the plain design. She saw nothing. Then, standing, she took a quick drink before setting the gla.s.s behind her. Pus.h.i.+ng at the dial, she jumped as it clicked. The top piece was the lock. Jaden smiled. She figured it out. Now all she had to do was think of the combination.

Trying a few numbers and receiving no reward for her effort, she grimaced with sudden insight. Attempting the lock again, she turned the dial around--seven, one, nineteen, seventy-eight. The latch clicked open and the top fell to the side. It was the day her mother had died, July 1, 1978.

Rhona's death was the whole reason Mack began hunting vampires. Her uncle had never forgiven Jaden's father for impregnating his sister and ruining her reputation. Mack had been very close to his sister, taking in her only daughter when she died.

Jaden refused to think of the mother she didn't remember. She had been a year old when Rhona had died. And though she resented her vampire roots, she never blamed the woman for falling in love with her father. A handsome immortal would be a hard thing to resist by a normal mortal woman. Their gaze alone could strike up the most fascinating feelings inside a person. Jaden thought of Tyr and frowned. He was her proof of that.

Her fingers trembled as she opened the top latch. Inside, tucked within the depths of the pedestal were a bound folder and a box.

Jaden lifted them from the depths. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the smooth box. Her mother's name was carved intricately in the top of the wood. She set it aside, unable to open it.

With a heavy, slow breath, she placed the folder on the desk. Seeing her liquor, she took another drink. The liquid didn't burn nearly as bad as the first time. It landed thickly in her stomach, numbing invitingly against the pain that threatened her chest.

She unbound the string around the folder, opening it to the front page. The words were written in French. Jaden sighed in weary frustration. Her uncle spoke the language fluently, having been raised partially by a French nanny when he was young. She didn't know why, but Mack had never taught her the language. She always a.s.sumed it was because he was too busy training her to be a warrior.

"You never write in French," Jaden muttered, thinking of her uncle. "What do you have to hide?"

Flipping through the file, she saw scientific charts and graphs and what looked like an endless line of medical sheets and blood work-ups. All was written in French. Halfway through the folder, she paused. Paper clipped to one of the pages was a photograph. The image was turned away, pressed into the sheet. On the back it read, Sydney, 103, 1984. Jaden recognized the slanted fall of her uncle's precise penmans.h.i.+p.

Jaden slowly turned the photo over. Her heart fell into her stomach. The image was of a young woman tied to a gurney. She looked scared, her eyes frozen in panic as she stared out from the slip of photographic paper. Her wide brown eyes begged for release, for help. At the same time, they admitted defeat. Jaden quickly turned the image back around. She couldn't look at the wounded stare.

Then, turning to the next page, she saw a manila envelope. The front again bore the number 103 in tight script. Unwinding the threaded latch, Jaden pulled the stack of photos from within. They were of the same woman only with a number of days penned on the edges. The first, bearing the t.i.tle Day One, showed her neck gouged by familiar markings. She had been bitten by a vampire. As the days progressed, the woman's cruel change became evident. She was denied blood. Her face contorted with first anger, then tears, and then lunacy until finally, at the end, there was a skeletal figure of the same person. The woman's eyes still shone with life, an eerie discovery in such a withered and rotted frame. She was tied to the same bed with the notation, Day Forty-three, External Termination.

Jaden pressed her lips together. A sensation of dread overcame her senses as she put the photos back into their place. Behind the envelope was another picture turned upside down. And, behind that, another envelope filled with photographs. This one read, Henry, 296, 1986. Looking at the pictures, Jaden discovered that it was pretty much more of the same thing, but with other notations as well. The subject had been given a serum of sorts, which appeared to prolong the agony of starvation. But the subject ultimately died the same as the other--by an outside hand and in much pain.

Jaden stared at the skeletal face in horror. It was obvious that Henry had been tested upon most cruelly. Cuts were made on his arms until the wounds no longer had the power to heal themselves. Some of them went as deep as the bone. At one point, the arm had been sawed nearly off above the wrist. The only question was, by whom? And why did Mack have these pictures? What exactly did the experimenters have to gain by such tests? It was already common enough knowledge that it took only a few days for most vampires to go crazy when denied blood. And there was no cure to be had.

Did those who had done this think that they could find a cure? Or was a much worse experiment going on? Without reading the details, it was hard to say. And, the most d.a.m.ning of all questions, why was it Mack's handwriting on the back of the first photograph?

Seeing that there were more cases behind Henry's, Jaden refused to look at anymore. She wasn't sure how long she had been in the library and didn't want Rick to catch her. Rick was loyal to her uncle and she wasn't sure if he was to be trusted.

Jaden thought of Tyr. Was this what he thought her uncle to be involved in? No, she couldn't believe it. Mack might harbor a lot of hatred for creatures of the night, but she had to believe he would never be capable of such atrocities.

Slamming the folder shut, she turned to the box. Her fingers lingered on the carved swirl of her mother's name. Lifting the lid, she peered into the shallow depths. Inside was a piece of folded parchment, yellowed by age and tattered by time. Jaden lifted it, opening what looked to be a letter. She couldn't read the finely laid scrawling, not recognizing the language but knowing it to be old. Folding it carefully, she laid it aside. Beneath was a picture of her mother and a locket.

Jaden studied the black and white face that mirrored her own. Rhona had been a beautiful woman, glamorous and feminine in a way her daughter wasn't. Touching the face, all Jaden could feel was a sense of sadness at never having known the woman. She pressed her lips together and looked thoughtfully around the room. She had to get the file translated so she could read what was inside. Except whom could she trust?Jaden thought instantly of Tyr. Surely, having lived so long, he would be able to speak almost every language. He might be able to even translate the letter she found. Her finger's trembled. What if the file incriminated her uncle? Tyr seemed to have already judged Mack without a trial. Did she dare hand the evidence over to her enemy? No. She would have to bide her time. But then did she ask Mack about what she had found? What would he say? Should she even trust him?

Jaden felt her body quake with apprehension. Carefully, she laid the picture and locket into the box and placed it back into Mack's safe. She could trust no one. Going to the bookshelf, she pulled a thick volume from the top ledge. The book looked old and carried with it a small cache that kept the pages together.

She felt only a moment's regret as she picked up her knife and cut into the binding. Stripping out the pages, she swapped the inside of the book with the inside of the folder. Closing the leather binding over the folder's contents, she latched up the book and set it aside. Then, taking the folder, she placed it back into the safe. She made sure everything was as she found it.

Hugging the newly rendered book to her chest, Jaden grabbed the yellowed letter before she strode to the door. She clutched her knife in her hand. Pulling the heavy oak open, she froze. Her eyes instantly met with Rick's. He was on the stairs, his hands laden with a brown paper bag. c.o.c.king his head to the side, he eyed her burden.

Slowly, he continued forward. "I got the sandwiches."

"Oh," Jaden gasped. She hugged the book closer. She forced a smile to her lips, as she grumbled, "Good. I'm starving. Why don't you put them downstairs? I'll shower and be right down."

"Need any help?"

"Excuse me?" she gasped in affront. She spun on her heels to force a glare on him.

Rick laughed, holding up his free hand. "I meant with the book. What are you doing? Research?"

"Ah," Jaden felt her chest tighten with relief. Quietly, she mumbled, "The book."

"Are you all right?" he asked carefully. His head tilted in concern. "You look a little pale."

"I'm just tired from our workout," she lied. Rick saw right through it. Jaden had the stamina of an immortal.

"How about we do something else tonight? A movie maybe?" he offered with a boyish grin.

"No," she mumbled, backing away. "I'm beat. I think I'll just sleep tonight." Jaden forced a yawn. Again Rick saw through her.

She hadn't slept a full night since she was a child. Mack made mention of it more than once.

"Fine," he answered, shading his eyes from her. "You'll still join me for dinner though, right? You did send me halfway across the state for these things."

Rick impishly waved the sandwich bag at her.

"Of course," she said. Rus.h.i.+ng towards her room, she yelled over her shoulder, "I'll be right down. And you won't be sorry.

Those are the best sandwiches in New York."

"Can I get you anything to drink?" he called after her.

"Ah, no!" she yelled in distraction. "I have a water bottle in my room."

Rick let her leave him, watching until her door closed firmly behind her. He knew there was something she was hiding from him.

He wished with all his heart that she would confide in him. But past experience told him that she would try and face it alone--and with a book on witchcraft, no less! With a shake of his head and a frown on his face, Rick made his way to the dining room.

Jaden was in over her head and it was up to him to save her.

Jaden studied her half-eaten sandwich as she rubbed the back of her neck. Smiling politely, she pretended to listen to Rick. She couldn't concentrate. Her mind kept wandering back to the impression of ice blue eyes. A few short days hadn't lessened her longing for the disapproving vampire. In fact, despite the direness of Tyr's impending visit, Jaden found she was almost looking forward to seeing him. Such a development did not sit lightly with her conscience. Since he first started aggravating her, she had stopped dwelling as intently on wanting to die. His arrogance lit within her a fighting spirit until she almost felt alive again.

Smirking to herself, she thought of his overbearing presence. Sure, she was alive with hatred, but it was better than feeling nothing.

The dining room consisted of a long table surrounded by hand carved chairs and a matching elegant sideboard. The easeful decorations made the imposing room feel more intimate than should have been possible, with low lighting and soft, warm colors painted onto the paneled woodwork.

Jaden reached for her sandwich, taking it to her mouth. Her limbs felt a strange lethargy as she tried to bite. Setting it down untouched, she looked at her plate. Her teeth felt oddly numb, her gums lost the ability to feel the poke of her tongue. Rolling her neck on her shoulders, she blinked heavily. Rick's face danced before her eyes.

"Jaden?" Rick questioned, stopping in mid-sentence. He watched as she ambled to her feet. She swayed slightly, her eyes turning dull as she looked at him.

Jaden stumbled to the dining room door, ignoring the sparkling light as it rained down from the chandelier. The wiggling spots waltzed across Rick's tilting face. She saw his hands reaching for her. She shooed them back with a quick snap. Her aim missed, falling far to the right. Growling in dismay, she demanded, "What did you do?"

Rick tried not to take exception to her accusing tone. Reaching for her again, he was surprised when she darted past. He heard her footsteps bounding up the stairs, tripping over the hard steps as she moved. Jogging, he followed cautiously behind her.

"Jade," he began as amiable as he could muster. "Wait a minute."

She circled around to face him as she reached the top. Holding onto the rail, she backed away. Raising her voice, she yelled, "What did you do, Rick?"

"Jade, please," he begged. His guilt played all over his features. He became aware of the gathering servants behind him. They stared at Jaden and at him, though none moved to help her as she stumbled. Rick shooed them away with a deft wave of his hand.

They immediately obeyed. Lifting his hands towards Jaden as he approached, he said, "It is just to help you sleep."

"You drugged me?" she cracked sharply. Reaching her bedroom door, her quaking fingers reached for the k.n.o.b.

"You gave me no choice," he defended. A frown pulled at the lines between his narrowing eyes.

"You deceitful," she began. Her speech became slurred. Her ears echoed strange and hollow. Jaden stumbled into her bedroom.

A glaze clouded her eyes.

"Me?" Rick scowled. "You've been lying to me for the last three days, Jade! I know you are up to something. I can read it plainly in your face." His words became desperate, as he begged, "Tell me what is bothering you. Trust me. Let me help. I can take care of you. Please, Jade."

"I don't need taken care of," she hissed. "I don't need anything from you." Rick barged into her room, staying close enough to catch her if she fell and far enough that she couldn't hit him until she did.

"How?" she whispered. "When?"

"Your sandwich," he admitted through his shame. His eyes didn't leave her. "Your uncle left me some po--"

"I don't believe you! Mack would never!" she screeched with a crazed shake of her head. But then a memory from childhood surfaced, a dim memory she never visited. It was the same feeling now swimming in her limbs, slowing her blood. Then her arms had been small and Mack's voice had been soothing, begging her to sleep, to rest without nightmares.

Jaden's neck swung back on her shoulders. She fell roughly into the side of the bed. Using all her strength, she pushed herself to standing. Her fingers twined around the post for support. Her thoughts danced haphazardly in her head--a laugh from childhood, the voice of an unimportant tutor lecturing algebra to a ten year old girl who wanted nothing of it, the clang of swords, a line from a Broadway play shouted by painted actors. Rick's face danced and she tried to focus on it, blocking out the sounds. Hoa.r.s.ely, she denied, "I am up to nothing."

"Well, I don't believe you," Rick countered easily. "I can see the packed bag you've hidden under your bed. Where are you going?"

"You don't know what you have done," she mumbled. A trail of spit slid over her wan complexion, down the side of her jaw and throat. Jaden could no longer stand. She sunk to her knees, powerless against the tide of the drug as it drowned her in its languid pool. Her mind reeled. "He's coming here ... for me ... tonight. You don't know what you have done."

Rick barely heard her words, but what he understood was enough. Going to her, he gathered her in his arms. His hands were tender as they stroked over her. "Who, Jade? Who's coming?"

"The devil," she muttered feebly, trying in vain to hold onto sanity. Her eyes rolled in her head. A blue gaze stared into her mind, filling with blood, dripping wet crimson tears. Spit continued to trail over the side of her cheek. Her mouth fell slack, as she said, "He's come to collect. He's come to judge."

"I'll take care of you, Jade. I'll always take care of you," Rick whispered. Jaden didn't hear him. Her mind collapsed into blackness.

Rick hugged Jaden's pliant body to his chest. He felt her strength weaken until she was a moldable ma.s.s within his arms. Her mouth opened in even breath. He reached for her pulse. It was steady and sure. Adjusting her in his arms, he lifted her from the floor. Her limbs flopped as he cradled her carefully before him.

Kicking her black bag from beneath the bed with his foot, he leaned over and picked it up. He angled the heavy duffel bag over his shoulder, keeping Jaden held fast in his arms. It was too late to take her to a safe house, but first thing in the morning he was going to get her out of New York. Tonight they would just have to make due with his apartment.

"I won't let him take you," Rick whispered when she fussed in his arms. Even in sleep she was fighting the effects of the drug. Or was she fighting him? He studied her restless features. The bruise was almost faded. Her clear skin was soft and free of makeup.

She was so pale, the sensitive skin a gift from her father. Along her eyes he could see the purpling shadows of little sleep. She looked peaceful and so vulnerable. Knowing that he may never again get the nerve, he murmured, "I love you."

Jaden moaned as he bounced her body in his embrace. Her lips parted with a sigh. Rick leaned over, his heart in his throat, to hear her soft whimper.

"The devil is going to take me for my sins," she wheezed, half asleep. Her eyes opened once, the lashes too weak to remain so as they fell over her pin-pointed eyes. "And I am going to let him."

London, England

"Why are we meeting in London?" Mack asked, breaking into a long silence. He hunched forward, leaning partly over the small round table of the cafe. His elbows pressed into the wood, feeling the imprint of the rough-hewn top. The opulent cut of his suit was sorely out of place in the literary atmosphere of the dark cafe. Someone spouted poetry into a microphone, annoying him with the college-boy whining. The kid really knew nothing of suffering.

Mack stared into the cold eyes that bore from the depth of an ageless face. Skin that was once dark glowed with a ghostly undertone. At Mack's words unlit eyes rose unwaveringly to search the mortal man's face. Mack turned his gaze away, pretending to look for a waitress in the dank room.