To Walk the Night Read online

  I headed for the stairs, removing my belt as I went. With the weight of my coat and weapons removed, I felt much more like a normal person. I might not actually be one, considering I was one of the monsters, but it was as close as I could get.

  Ethan wasn’t upstairs yet. His bedroom door was hanging open. I peeked in his room and grimaced. Clothes were strewn about the room like a tornado had come through. A plate with something that looked like it might have once been a lump of cheese sat on the bed.

  I might have taken him in when he was only a teenager, his parents having been killed by Count Valentino’s thugs, but that didn’t mean he always had to live like a kid on college vacation. It felt odd having to remind a thirtysomething to clean his room.

  My bedroom was in much better condition. While it wasn’t much to look at, it held all the comforts I needed. I tossed my belt on a chair by the door and sat down on the bed to remove my boots. My feet ached, and the idea of a bath was now so overpowering I almost went straight into the bathroom and jumped into the tub with my clothes on.

  I pulled off my boots and set them by the bathroom door. I would need to clean the blood off them sometime after my bath. The stuff would set in if I didn’t and then would be nearly impossible to get it out.

  I was about to strip off my shirt and leather pants when my eyes fell on my sword. “Damn it,” I muttered. I went over and picked up the belt again. Ethan would want to know what kind of damage I had inflicted on the weapons. I needed to get them downstairs before he called it a night.

  Leaving my room in my bare feet, I padded down the hall and back down the stairs. The house was eerily silent. Even though I was used to it, it was somehow unsettling this time. It just didn’t feel right.

  “Ethan?” I called, stopping at the top of the stairs that led down into the sitting room. There was no answer.

  Sighing, I made my way down the stairs. I was probably just paranoid. I usually was pretty high-strung for a day or two after a kill run. There was something about all the adrenaline pumping through my altered body that kept me on my toes long after I finished the job. A bath and a few quiet days would be all I would need to get back to normal.

  Or my version of normal anyway.

  The sitting room was dark and quiet. The door to the laundry room was hanging wide open, which wasn’t a surprise. It was the door to the basement that made the hairs on my neck stand on end. It was slightly ajar.

  “Ethan?” I said, this time much quieter than before. It wasn’t like him to leave the basement door open. “You there?”

  I drew my sword from its sheath. I nudged the basement door the rest of the way open. Faint light from the desk lamp resting on the table where a majority of my weapons were kept seeped up the stairs. I scanned what I could see of the room from the top of the stairs, but nothing seemed out of place.

  I started slowly down, my sword at the ready. I still had my belt in hand and knew it would get in my way if something was wrong.

  But how could it be? No one knew where I lived. No one knew who I was. Ethan had probably started to come upstairs and then remembered he forgot something in his lab and went back down to get it. It wouldn’t have been the first time. As smart as he was, he could be scatterbrained at times.

  A faint scuffling noise came from below and I froze on a middle step. I listened for any other sign that someone was down there waiting for me.

  At first, there was nothing. I eased down a step, keeping my eyes trained on the room below. The step creaked faintly and there was a sharp intake of breath from someone unseen in the basement.

  I tightened my grip on my sword. Someone was in my house. Just the thought sent surges of rage through my body. This was my home, my sanctuary. This was the only place I had that was free from the nightmares of my life.

  And someone had infiltrated it.

  A clunk and the sound of the heavy second basement door opening caused my eyes to widen. Ethan.

  I bolted down the last handful of stairs, my sword poised to strike. I hit the floor and opened my mouth to shout out a warning. I was too late.

  “Kat?” Ethan said as he stepped into the room. His Tom and Jerry T-shirt had black smudges on it where he had absently wiped his hands clean while working. His eyes were heavy and his brown hair was rumpled as if he had fallen asleep down there.

  Before I could warn him of the danger, a shape darted from behind one of the shelves in the room, straight for Ethan.

  As fast as I was, I wasn’t fast enough. The man grabbed Ethan and spun him around, using him as a shield. Something glittered in his hand.

  “Don’t move,” he said. His voice sounded strangled, scared. “I don’t want to have to hurt him.”

  I froze where I was. I recognized the object in his hand. It was one of my knives. The silver wouldn’t hurt Ethan much, since he was as Pureblooded as the next human, but if the guy were to cut his throat, Ethan would bleed out just the same.

  The man licked his lips and scanned the room. His eyes were wide, wild. He looked a lot more scared than I would have expected out of someone who had broken into my house.

  It was then that I really took in his features. He was completely bald. There was no hair on his face or arms, or anywhere I could see, for that matter. His hands were trembling where they gripped the knife.

  And in the center of his forehead was a crescent moon tattoo.

  “Luna Cult,” I said, nearly hissing the name.

  The Cultist swallowed hard but didn’t reply. He didn’t have to. I would know that tattoo anywhere. Although I never actually dealt with the Cult personally, I knew them by reputation.

  The Luna Cult was the scum of the Pureblood population. They worshipped werewolves, pressured others into joining their ranks like they were some sort of religion. They viewed vampires as the enemy, creatures who held down the beasts the Cult worshipped. It was the only thing about them I liked.

  “Lady Death?” the Cultist said, his eyes finally resting on me. He was breathing fast and hard.

  I tensed at the name but made no move toward him. I just stared at him, willed him to make a mistake. If I had had my gun, I could have put a bullet between his eyes before he knew what hit him.

  My eyes flickered over to the wall where another five modified Glocks hung. Their clips were in the drawer of the table beneath them. It would take far too long to load one and fire. By then, Ethan would probably be dead.

  “What do you want?” I asked, turning my gaze back to the Cultist. I lowered my sword in the hopes I would appear a little less threatening.

  The Cultist swallowed again. He looked as if he were trying to swallow a hunk of barbed wire. “I have a message for you.”

  “What message?”

  Ethan squeaked as the Cultist shifted positions. A thin trickle of blood ran from his throat where the Cultist had accidently cut him.

  “I was told to deliver this to you.” He reached into his pocket and removed a balled-up piece of paper. He tossed it toward me. It fell to the ground a good foot from where I stood.

  “What is it?” I glanced at the piece of paper but didn’t move to pick it up. I wasn’t about to put myself in any sort of vulnerable position, even if I did have a feeling this guy was scared out of his mind and was as likely to attack me as he was to stick his head into a meat grinder.

  “An address. To our Den.”

  I blinked at him. Was he serious? “Why?”

  The Cultist eyed my sword. “Would you mind putting that away? I didn’t mean for you to find me in here. I just wanted to look around. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

  I tossed the sword onto the table to my right without hesitating. I still had my belt in hand. My knives were hidden in sheaths worked into the leather so that they were nearly invisible. There was a good chance he wouldn’t know they were there until it was too late.

  He visibly eased and the knife lifted from Ethan’s throat. He still held him tight, however, keeping the weapon close just in case I mad
e a move.

  “Okay,” I said. I shifted my grip on the belt so that my hand covered the hilt of a knife. If he were to ease up just a little more, I would have him. “Why are you giving me the address to your Den?”

  “Because I was told to,” the Cultist said. He spoke much easier now that I wasn’t holding the sword. He must not have realized how dangerous I really was. “I was told to invite you to our Den. I wasn’t given the details as to why.”

  I stared at the Cultist long and hard. This didn’t sound like the Luna Cult. Their Den was hidden somewhere in the city. No one outside the Cult knew where it was.

  And I was a vampire. Why would they tell me of all people where it was located? It didn’t make sense.

  “I’ve delivered my message,” the Cultist said. “Now, I just want to go.”

  “Why’d you have to break into my house to deliver your message?”

  “Oh hell.” The Cultist wiped his brow with his free hand. “It was a mistake,” he said. “No one answered the door and I just thought I might take a look inside, see how you lived. Shit. I didn’t mean to get caught. I just want to leave.”

  “Let him go,” I said. “Then we’ll see about that.”

  The Cultist instantly let Ethan go and raised both hands. He still had hold of the knife, but it was no longer threatening anyone.

  “Bad move,” Ethan whispered, taking a quick step to the side.

  As soon as he was clear, my knife was out of its sheath and was buried in the Cultist’s thigh. He went down fast and hard, crying out in pain. I had the other knife in hand before he could think to react.

  He looked at me through pain-filled eyes and dropped the knife to the floor. It clattered loudly on the concrete. “Fuck,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.” He squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled the knife from his leg. He let it drop to the floor next to the other.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said. I wasn’t thrilled about what I was about to do. It was this sort of thing that made my life almost unbearable. “You know where I live. You know what I look like. I can’t let you leave here.”

  The Cultist fell back into a sitting position. He looked at me with an almost blank stare, as if he had already accepted his fate.

  “That’s why,” he said. “I didn’t understand until now.”

  I stared at him, at a loss as to what he was referring to. It could have been anything really. There were all kinds of rumors about me, most so far off base it was laughable.

  But whatever it was, it didn’t really matter. I couldn’t let him leave here alive.

  “I’ll be, uh, in the other room,” Ethan said. He wiped his fingers across his throat where the knife had cut him. He winced and frowned at the blood on his fingers, then hurried up the stairs and out of the basement.

  I knelt in front of the Cultist, nudging both knives out of the way with my foot as I did. “I’ll make it fast,” I whispered.

  The Cultist’s eyes filled with tears and he nodded.

  I rested my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. It was the least I could do.

  Before he could resist, I gave his neck a sharp twist. His eyes widened for an instant before going dull.

  His lifeless body slumped to the floor. I rose, dropping my knife beside him. The blood stopped oozing from his leg, which was good. I could feel my hunger wanting to take control. His blood would still be good for a little while longer.

  I turned away, refusing to give in. He might have been a Cultist, but he hadn’t deserved to die. Not really. Disgust fought with hunger for control of my stomach. I felt sick. I did what I had to do.

  That didn’t mean I had to like it.

  3

  Red-tinged water cascaded down my back and neck. The blood swirled down the drain, leaving a trace of red taint behind. My eyes were closed, hair dripping onto my face, concealing the pain hidden there. No one was there to see me, but I couldn’t bear the thought of exposing my weakness. I was stronger than that.

  Of regrets, I have little. Taking the life of a man like the Luna Cultist wasn’t what was bothering me. It was the ease in which I did it that made my insides feel like they were twisting into knots. It was becoming far too easy to take someone’s life. It should never be easy, even if they are something of a threat.

  Okay, maybe I wasn’t being honest with myself. Having to kill the Cultist was indeed bothering me. What had he really done, other than break into my house to deliver a message? He wasn’t going to hurt Ethan. He had been scared, terrified really. Could I really blame him for that?

  But he knew where I lived. No matter how much I might have wanted to let him live, I just couldn’t do it. It was too dangerous allowing him to walk free. Sure, he had been sent to me by someone else who presumably knew where to find me. What did killing the Luna Cultist really solve?

  I hated killing for no better reason than to protect my secrecy. No one should ever have to live like that. The Purebloods have their trained killers, men and women who could kill without a second thought. They could shoot a man at a distance, skewer him on the tip of a blade, and not blink an eye.

  I didn’t want to become like them. Killing vamps and wolves wasn’t the same thing. They were tainted, their blood cursed. If left to their own devices, death and pain would follow in their wake. If nothing else, I was a perfect example of that.

  I squeezed my eyes tight and tried to push the image of the Cultist’s face from my mind. Even though I hadn’t fed from him, I could still taste his blood in my mouth. He had bled little, yet I smelled it everywhere. It overpowered the werewolf and vampire blood that had covered me from head to foot.

  The water pummeled my eyelids, beat at them so hard it stung. I took a large mouthful of water, swished it around, and spat it back out. I knew I could never rid myself of the taste. It was always there, waiting for the moment when I was at my weakest. It was a constant reminder of what I had become.

  Blindly, I reached for the shampoo. The shower was almost like a ritual. I would wash my hair, my body, my spirit, in slow, measured movements. It would purge me of any guilt I felt. Normally, I would rid myself of the memories of the dead I couldn’t save, those whose lives were forever ruined by the vampires I killed.

  Tonight, there was something else to purge, something I never wanted to feel again.

  Ethan knew why I did what I did. He would understand. The body would be removed without me having to see it again. It had been a long time since he had to dispose of a body at the house. I never wanted it to happen again.

  I rubbed the shampoo into my scalp, digging my fingernails into the flesh. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make sure any trace of blood—werewolf, vampire, or Pureblood—was cleansed completely free. I wasn’t afraid of the blood mixing and tainting me. I hadn’t sustained even the slightest of scratches in my fight with Paltori, and it would take far more werewolf blood than what was on me to contaminate me any worse than I already was.

  The Den. My mind drifted from the Cultist to the reason he had been here in the first place. Why would the Denmaster want to talk with me? It had to be a trick.

  But if they wanted me dead, why hadn’t they attacked me here? They could have set a trap, used Ethan as a bargaining chip for my surrender. They could have even killed him and waited for me, killed me before I knew anything was wrong.

  It didn’t make any sense.

  I washed out the shampoo and then turned my face back under the water. I grabbed the soap and began scrubbing at my body, starting from my face and working my way slowly down to my toes. I made sure to clean every crease of skin, every pore. No blood would remain.

  The address had been scrawled on the small slip of paper just like the Cultist said it would be. There was no explanation, no information other than where I was to go. I had no idea why the Cult wanted to see me.

  It wasn’t much of a surprise to learn the Den was located on the grounds of the old university. Most Cultists tended to come from the college ranks. Disi
llusioned youths, tired of dealing with the horrors of modern society often turned down dark paths to satiate their own inner demons.

  The water started to turn cold and I hurriedly washed the soap from my skin. I turned off the shower and dried myself off, starting with one towel to catch any missed blood and then another to finish the job. I scrubbed at my hair until it was as dry as I could make it, then let it fall around my shoulders. Tossing the towels on the floor, I grabbed my hairbrush and ran it through my hair a few times, just enough to get out the worst of the tangles and make sure there were no clumps of blood remaining. My hair was so dark, it was hard to tell sometimes.

  Once I was sure I was as clean as I could get, I opened the bathroom door and stepped into my bedroom.

  “Oh, shit, sorry,” Ethan said, hastily turning away.

  “What?” I said. I walked casually to my dresser to get dressed.

  “I forgot you did that,” he said, waving a hand in my general direction. His face was bright red. “Don’t you take clothes in there, so, you know, you could change before coming out like that?”

  “This is my bedroom.”

  “Well, yeah, but, I don’t know ... The door was open and I thought you would be decent and ...”

  “It’s fine, Ethan,” I said, mildly exasperated. “I’m sure you’ve seen a naked woman before.” I slipped on a T-shirt that was three sizes too big. It served well enough for a nightgown.

  Ethan’s face blazed even hotter. He stared at the wall, fingers tapping his thigh as he waited me out.

  “You can turn around.”

  He glanced over his shoulder and sighed in relief when he saw me clothed.

  “I didn’t mean to walk in on you,” he said. “I just want to make that clear.” His eyes darted down to my bare legs and then snapped back up to my face.

  “What do you want?” I said, sitting on the bed. I had to fight hard to conceal a smile. Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe he hadn’t seen a naked girl before.