I have to get the hell out of here." When he moved to walk past her, Claire's hand shot out to him. Too late to warn her away, he felt her fingers close around his hand. She yelped in sudden pain and pulled back, cradling her palm to her chest. Oh, God. He'd burned her. He had stomped on her heart and now he was hurting her in still another way. Just as he feared he would do eventually. He stepped past her and, with a few brisk strides, chewed up the distance to the door. "Andreas," she called out behind him. He didn't look back. His body lethal with the heat of his fury, he stormed out of the room and leapt off the second-floor balcony to the foyer below. He heard her cry his name again, but he didn't so much as pause for a second. Glowing now, his pyrokinetic curse screaming through his veins and limbs, mind and soul, he threw open the front door with a sharp mental command. Then he stalked out into the crisp, cool night air without looking back.
Chapter Nineteen
It took him the better part of an hour before he was able to rein in the worst of his pyrokinetic heat. He was still angry with Claire by the time he returned to the house, but at least he couldn't hurt her further. Not that she wasn't still feeling some pain, he acknowledged as he walked up the driveway and found her standing outside with the warrior who'd been sent from Boston to pick them up. "Ah, you see?" Rio said when he spotted Reichen. "I told you he would come back." The Breed male's rich voice rolled with his Spanish accent, and when he flashed a welcoming grin and thrust out his hand to Reichen in greeting, the scars that marred the left side of his face practically vanished. "Good to see you, my friend." "And you, as well," Reichen said as he briefly clasped the warrior's hand. Rio's pretty auburn-haired Breedmate, Dylan, was with him tonight. She strode up and gave Reichen a casual kiss on the cheek. "You had us all a bit worried here." "My apologies," he murmured, slanting a look at Claire. She would hardly look at him, and he could see that she was cradling her singed fingers close to her chest. Reichen felt sick that his curse had wounded her, even a little. He wanted to tell her as much, but it was a conversation best done privately.
She didn't seem eager to talk to him anyway. Nor did she seem inclined to argue anymore about going with him to the Order's headquarters. She followed Dylan to the vehicle and started to climb into the backseat. "Everything good?" Rio asked when the females were out of earshot. "You don't look so well, amigo." "I'll feel better once she's safe in the compound," he said. In truth, he'd feel better once he had a chance to hunt and slake the thirst that was still riding him from the pyro. The last thing he needed was to be cooped up with Claire for the next hour or more on the drive back to Boston. Bad enough he craved blood to cool the final few embers that still burned inside him. It would be pure torture having to curb his need if he was seated mere inches away from the woman he thirsted for above all others. Rio seemed to clue in on that as they walked together toward the SUV "Dylan won't mind if you ride shotgun," he said. "She and Claire can ride together in back and get acquainted. Dylan's far better company than either one of us." Reichen wasn't about to argue.>Solid intel on just what we might be dealing with here--before Dragos sends it to our doorstep." There were a few nods around the table, and more than one of the mated warriors shot Lucan a look that communicated the same dread he felt whenever he thought of the potential of their war with Dragos coming home to the compound. "Tomorrow night I want a sweep of the entire city," he said. "We'll pide up: Tegan, Hunter, and myself each accompanying one group in case we run into more Gen Ones. This is an extermination mission. If one of Dragos's assassins is spotted, we take him out. I want to send a very clear message to that son of a bitch and drive him back. Hard." "That could be exactly what he wants us to do," Tegan replied. "Have you considered that what happened these past two nights might have been Dragos's way of baiting us? Trying to pull us into street combat with his underlings so we're not going after him?" Lucan nodded. "It could be. But if he's sent assassins into the city, can we really afford to take that chance and not confront the threat head-on?" Very subtly, tenderly, Tegan slid his hand over to cover Elise's. "No, we can't." "Okay," Lucan said. "Let's go over the map and pvy up territories for tonight's patrol."
Reichen closed the cell phone and raked his hand over the top of his head. "Jesus Christ." "Is it bad news?" Claire came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her body still glistening with droplets of water from her shower. "It's not good," he said, glancing up from where he sat on the edge of the bed. It was close to midnight, and he'd been waiting for Claire to get cleaned up and dressed before he broached the subject of leaving Newport, when the disturbing call came in from the Order. "Two of the warriors were shot earlier tonight in a confrontation with one of Dragos's henchmen." "Good lord," she whispered. "I'm sorry to hear that, Andre. How terrible." Reichen nodded gravely. "They're down one man now, and planning to run intensive sweeps of the city tomorrow night to rout out any other potential threats." Claire inched over to join him where he sat, but instead of touching him, she wrapped her arms around herself. He could feel her unease in both the tentative way she moved and the sudden spike of her adrenaline, which echoed in his own veins.
"Do they believe Dragos is in Boston, then?" "I don't know. Bad enough he's sent his Gen One assassins in to stir up problems." "He has assassins who are also first-generation Breed?" Claire's expression fell a little more. "I had no idea. Dragos must be a very dangerous enemy to have." "Yes," Reichen agreed. "But Gen One assassins are only part of what makes him so dangerous. He has other things, too... the Order believes he controls one of the Ancients, hidden somewhere in a location we've yet to uncover." Claire frowned. "But all of the Ancients were killed during the Middle Ages. It was the Order that declared war on them and carried out the slayings. Even I know that part of Breed history." Reichen slowly shook his head. "One escaped the war with the Order. He was secreted away in a crypt in Bohemia for a very long time--until Dragos had him removed. I saw the empty crypt myself, last year, when I climbed the mountain outside Prague with some of the warriors. We'd been hoping the Ancient was dead and dust by now, but he's not. Apparently Dragos has been keeping the creature alive for centuries, using him to create a new generation of the most powerful vampires in existence. With enough time and resources, Dragos could craft his own personal army of Gen One assassins bred to do his bidding." "Not if the Order can stop him," Claire said hopefully. "We have to stop him," Reichen corrected. "We have to strike at him wherever and however we can."
Claire watched him with cautious eyes. "We? But you aren't--" "I owe them," he said solemnly. "The Order has been there for me when I needed them in the past, and I have pledged to them that I am here when they need me. I meant that. I can't go back on it." "What are you saying?" "They're down one man in Boston now. I need to step in and help them." "You're going to Boston?" He didn't know why that should make her pulse lurch the way it did, but he felt her alarm echo in his own veins. "But you're not one of them, Andreas. You're not a warrior, so how could they ask that of you?" "They've asked nothing of me. I've offered them my assistance because they are my friends." She glanced away from him, seeming to struggle with her words. "But I thought we were ... I thought, after last night, after everything we said to each other..." He laid his hand gently on the side of her face. "It doesn't change a thing about what we've shared here, or how I feel about you. I love you, Claire. But this isn't a choice between you and them. It's simply my duty. My honor. And if teaming with the Order to move against Dragos brings me closer to finding Roth, so much the better." Claire got up and paced away from him, across the room. Her shoulders were held in a tense line. Even if he hadn't been linked to her by blood, he would have known without question that she was troubled by something deeper than anything she had said so far. "I don't want you to go, Andre.
You can't go to Boston. Not now." "You had to know that neither one of us could stay here like this for long." He moved toward her, gently turned her around to face him. "The Order is sending a vehicle. It will be here within the hour." "You'll be killed," she said, her voice cracking. "Andreas, you will die if you go to Boston. I can feel it in my heart. If this vengeance of yours doesn't kill you, then your fury surely will." He lifted her chin so that she was forced to look into his eyes. "I have more reason to live than ever. I'm not looking for death, but I can't pretend I'll have a moment's peace until Roth and his ilk are wiped from existence. Neither will you." "You can't go," she murmured, stubbornly refusing to hear him. When he started to shake his head in denial, she spoke with even more determination. "What if I asked you to let go of your hatred of Wilhelm Roth? What if I were to ask you to choose--" "Don't," he whispered. "There is no choice for me to make here." He smoothed her hair out of her face, feeling as though something precious were slipping through his fingers. "If I stayed now--even if I set aside my hatred of Roth--what will we do when he comes looking for us? Because he will, Claire. You know that as well as I do."
"Then we will face him together. When and if that time comes, we'll defeat him together." Reichen shook his head slowly. "This is my battle, not yours. I wouldn't want you anywhere near when I finally get my hands on Roth. It's far too great a risk. What do you think would happen to you if the fires inside me ignite and won't ebb?" God, he'd thought about that awful scenario a hundred times, beginning on that day in the farmer's field outside Hamburg. He'd been thinking about it as recently as last night, and today, as well, when he could still feel the heated embers glowing in his belly. How would he ever forgive himself if he brought any harm to Claire? "I can't risk it," he said again, more forcefully now. "And I won't let you risk it, either. I want you to come with me tonight to the Order's headquarters. You'll be protected in their compound, and you can stay there until--" "Until when?" She closed her eyes for a long moment, as if absorbing the weight of his words. "Until you are either dead or very near to it? You want me to stand by and watch you pursue your own destruction, Andre? Now you are the one asking too much." He wanted to tell her that her fears were unfounded. More than anything, he wanted to promise her that he had no doubts about how this thing with Roth was going to work out. He wished he could assure her that somehow they would come through all of this in the end, that they could have a future together--the future Wilhelm Roth had denied them so many years ago. But he couldn't deceive her. Taking down Roth might demand the last of his thin control. If he had to unleash his power to its hellish maximum in order to destroy the bastard, he would. And if the situation called for that, he knew the odds of him emerging from it with any shred of his humanity intact was virtually nil. He gazed down at her lovely face and tenderly smoothed a damp tendril from her brow.
"Get dressed now, all right? We can talk more, but it won't be long before our ride arrives to pick us up. And you are going with me, Claire. That much is not open to debate." She looked at him for a long moment, saying nothing. Then she pressed her lips together and gave a faint shake of her head. "I know where Roth is, Andre." Reichen couldn't speak as those words spilled out of her mouth. He stood there, dumbstruck and confused, a building sense of rage forming swiftly from deep inside him. "I felt his presence through my blood bond to him last night, when we first arrived in Boston." Her admission was calmly voiced and steady, filled with certainty. It made him pause, even while his pulse slammed into a violent tempo. "He's here in the United States?" She nodded faintly. "In Boston." Reichen's blood began to sizzle. "You knew this? You knew this, but you didn't tell me." He didn't mean for it to come out as an accusation, but the heat flickering to life within him made it hard to form words. His head was buzzing, and it was hard to do anything but fight to keep control of the kindling fire that was already starting to spread through his body. Roth was a mere hour away. All this time, so close to his grasp. "I couldn't tell you, Andre. I didn't want to give you information that might only get you killed. That's why I left the airport without telling you. But then you followed me here, and I thought maybe if we spent some time together, the way we used to, then I could convince you to give up your need for vengeance." Reichen could barely breathe. His nostrils filled with the acrid tang of smoke and heat. All along his limbs, electricity crackled, growing hotter by the second. "For fuck's sake, Claire. You should have told me about this. I needed to know. Goddamn it, the Order needed to know also." "I didn't want my blood bond to Roth putting you or anyone else in danger."
His vision beginning to bleed red with rage, he stalked away from her, fuming. "Claire, you have been the one in danger all this time. With Roth so close, he had to know you were here, too. He could have shown up on this doorstep at any time." "But he didn't," she said quietly from behind him. "I couldn't tell you that I knew where he was, or you would have gone after him. You can't tell me that you wouldn't have insisted I help you locate him, Andreas. You're so determined to claim your justice, how long would it have taken you before you asked me to use my blood bond to lead you to him?" "Never," he said, appalled. He spun around to face her then, his body teeming with heat. "I never would have used you. Never. God, don't you know that?" "I suppose I wasn't willing to find out," she replied. "Andreas, please, don't be angry with me--" "I'm fucking furious with you!" he roared, unable to bite back the fear that had such a firm hold on his heart. His chest heaved with every breath he pulled into his lungs. He shook from a place deep within, a pit of dread so black and endless, it might have swallowed him whole. And the heat of his destructive power continued to rise, burning through his reason and self-control. "I can't be near you right now.
I have to get the hell out of here." When he moved to walk past her, Claire's hand shot out to him. Too late to warn her away, he felt her fingers close around his hand. She yelped in sudden pain and pulled back, cradling her palm to her chest. Oh, God. He'd burned her. He had stomped on her heart and now he was hurting her in still another way. Just as he feared he would do eventually. He stepped past her and, with a few brisk strides, chewed up the distance to the door. "Andreas," she called out behind him. He didn't look back. His body lethal with the heat of his fury, he stormed out of the room and leapt off the second-floor balcony to the foyer below. He heard her cry his name again, but he didn't so much as pause for a second. Glowing now, his pyrokinetic curse screaming through his veins and limbs, mind and soul, he threw open the front door with a sharp mental command. Then he stalked out into the crisp, cool night air without looking back.
Chapter Nineteen
It took him the better part of an hour before he was able to rein in the worst of his pyrokinetic heat. He was still angry with Claire by the time he returned to the house, but at least he couldn't hurt her further. Not that she wasn't still feeling some pain, he acknowledged as he walked up the driveway and found her standing outside with the warrior who'd been sent from Boston to pick them up. "Ah, you see?" Rio said when he spotted Reichen. "I told you he would come back." The Breed male's rich voice rolled with his Spanish accent, and when he flashed a welcoming grin and thrust out his hand to Reichen in greeting, the scars that marred the left side of his face practically vanished. "Good to see you, my friend." "And you, as well," Reichen said as he briefly clasped the warrior's hand. Rio's pretty auburn-haired Breedmate, Dylan, was with him tonight. She strode up and gave Reichen a casual kiss on the cheek. "You had us all a bit worried here." "My apologies," he murmured, slanting a look at Claire. She would hardly look at him, and he could see that she was cradling her singed fingers close to her chest. Reichen felt sick that his curse had wounded her, even a little. He wanted to tell her as much, but it was a conversation best done privately.
She didn't seem eager to talk to him anyway. Nor did she seem inclined to argue anymore about going with him to the Order's headquarters. She followed Dylan to the vehicle and started to climb into the backseat. "Everything good?" Rio asked when the females were out of earshot. "You don't look so well, amigo." "I'll feel better once she's safe in the compound," he said. In truth, he'd feel better once he had a chance to hunt and slake the thirst that was still riding him from the pyro. The last thing he needed was to be cooped up with Claire for the next hour or more on the drive back to Boston. Bad enough he craved blood to cool the final few embers that still burned inside him. It would be pure torture having to curb his need if he was seated mere inches away from the woman he thirsted for above all others. Rio seemed to clue in on that as they walked together toward the SUV "Dylan won't mind if you ride shotgun," he said. "She and Claire can ride together in back and get acquainted. Dylan's far better company than either one of us." Reichen wasn't about to argue.
He took the front passenger side and sat back as Rio wheeled the Rover down the driveway and headed for the road that would take them to the interstate. He was right about the trip being one long exercise in patience and control. While Claire and Dylan chatted softly behind him about the things they loved most about New England, and where they'd each grown up, and a hundred other harmless pleasantries, Reichen stared out the dark-tinted glass of the window and tried not to think about his hunger. It was a losing battle. By the time they exited the tollway and reached the inner city limits of Boston, his feverish hunger was demanding to be fed. "I need to walk for a while," he told Rio as the warrior came to a stop at a traffic light. He didn't wait for permission, just opened the door and jumped out. "I'll meet up with you at the compound shortly I know how to find you." From the backseat, he caught Claire's look of concern. He felt her worry rattle in his own blood, too. She thought he might be going after Roth on his own. He might have been tempted, if not for the clamoring of his thirst. Instead, once the SUV rolled away into the darkness, Reichen skulked through the thickly settled, working-class neighborhoods. He was careful to keep to the back-alley shadows, where it was easier to conceal his presence and his dark intentions. It was a blustery, rainy night in Boston, which meant far fewer loiterers on the sidewalks or standing outside the pubs sucking on cigarettes. Only a handful of the roughest and most desperate inpiduals had any reason to be outdoors tonight--Reichen among them. He searched the city's offerings with a cool eye, knowing that when he was like this, riding the far outer edge of his power, he was a predator in the meanest sense of the word. His mouth was parched, his fangs digging into his tongue. Like this, he was as deadly as the Ancient in Dragos's hidden lair.
A thirsting, savage monster. As Reichen prowled the back of a narrow neighborhood street, the bang of a storm door drew his head sharply up. A human male in a ball cap and baggy sweats stomped down a rickety wooden porch, screaming obscenities at the older woman who appeared backlit by lights from inside the house. "Getcha ass back here, Daniel! Do you hear me?" she shouted, loud enough for the surrounding four blocks to hear. The young male flipped her off and kept walking while he hollered back at her. "Yeah, yeah, fuck you too, Ma! Go back to ya bottle and stay the hell outta my weed, why don't ya! You owe me twenty bucks for the shit you stole from me!" Reichen cocked his head, watching the human cut down a dark side road. With his head down and his mouth working absently on all the things he still wanted to say to the drunk who spawned him, the kid didn't even notice that he wasn't alone in the narrow alley. He didn't see Reichen moving in from behind; probably only sensed him as a rush of cold air at the back of his tattooed neck. Before the human had a chance to utter a single startled gasp, Reichen sprang on him. He swiftly took him down to the cracked asphalt. Pushed the human's chin up and to the side, baring the hammering pulse at the side of his neck. He bit in deep, and sucked in a mouthful of warm, nourishing blood. He fed hungrily, greedily, ignoring the feeble struggles of his Host. Every gulp was bitter on his tongue, and did little to quench the desert dryness of his throat. His hunger persisted, even when the human's resistance had ended. Reichen kept feeding. He couldn't stop. He wasn't even sure he knew how--one of the terrible consequences of summoning his talent. He might have killed the man if not for the sudden awareness of cold hard steel pressing tight against the side of his head.
"The buffet is closed, asshole." Reichen grunted, only the dimmest flicker of recognition burning into his brain. He kept drinking, starving for more. The hammer on the large pistol cocked with a loud metallic warning. "Back the fuck off, or you're gonna be eating lead." He growled now, pissed off by the interruption and still too fevered to let up on his Host. Blood gushed over his tongue and down his throat, but the fire in his gut still burned, impossible to extinguish. He slid a feral gaze to the side to gauge the Breed male with the gun locked and loaded at his head. "Holy hell," the huge vampire muttered. The icy nose of the pistol fell away from his temple. "Reichen? What the fuck." Reichen knew this immense male with the wild tawny hair and stark green eyes. Instinct called him warrior--friend, even though his stance and tone a moment ago had conveyed deadly serious murder. It was that instinctive awareness that kept Reichen from turning on the vampire as a strong hand came down on his shoulder and physically peeled him off his prey. He was shoved back hard, and the other male grabbed the human to seal the punctures with an efficient sweep of his tongue. Reichen watched, ass planted on the concrete, as the big Breed male palmed the human's forehead and erased his memory of the attack. "Now get the hell out of here." The stunned man stood up and wandered dazedly toward the other end of the alley. "Tegan," Reichen murmured thickly, voicing the name that finally sprang into his consciousness. The warrior stalked over to him. "What are you doing down here? Last I heard, Lucan had sent Rio out to Newport to chauffeur your sorry ass into the compound." Reichen shrugged.
"I had the sudden urge for takeout along the way." Tegan didn't laugh. He kept that fierce gaze trained on Reichen, watching him as he might an armed grenade. "You look like shit." "I'm better now," Reichen replied, feeling the new blood quenching his organs and cells. But it hadn't been enough. His thirst was still gnawing at him, greedy for more. "I am fine." Tegan scoffed. "You've got the shakes and you can't keep your eyes focused on a damn thing." "It will pass." This time a raw curse. "Give me your hand. Doesn't look like you can get up on your own motor." Reichen took the offered help, clasping Tegan's hand and letting himself be pulled to his feet. No sooner had he risen than Tegan drew in a sharp hiss. His fangs punched into view behind his lip, and the green of his eyes was suddenly shot with flecks of glowing amber. Reichen recalled the warrior's ability to read emotion with a touch, and he could only guess at the torrent of disturbing things he'd just picked up from that brief contact. "What the fuck is going on with you, man?" he demanded.
"It's the pyro... does this to me afterward. No big deal." Even as he said it, Reichen wondered if it was true. Summoning his power was getting easier all the time; coming out of its wake was another thing. Maybe Claire was right when she challenged him about his fury. How many more times could he do this and hope to emerge from it in one piece? How soon before he reached the tipping point and the fires ate away the very last scrap of his humanity? And if the fires didn't do it, he had the sickening feeling that the nearly insatiable thirst left in their wake surely would. "Shit," Tegan exhaled, holding him in a narrowed, assessing look. He pulled a cell phone out of his jacket pocket and pressed a key. "Yeah, it's me. I'm down in Jamaica Plain. I've got Reichen here with me, I'm bringing him in to the compound."
The women of the Order made Claire feel as welcome as she ever had by her contemporaries in the Darkhavens. Three of the warriors' Breedmates, Savannah, Gabrielle, and Elise, had prepared her a lovely dinner of creamy soup and homemade biscuits, and Dylan had shown her to a private apartment down the maze of marbled corridors that Claire was offered for her own while she was at the compound. They had told her to make herself at home, and she couldn't resist spending a few minutes nosing around the massive headquarters that spread out seemingly endlessly. It was fascinating--and a bit unsettling--to realize that an organization like the Order not only existed but needed to exist.
She felt so naive, reflecting on how Wilhelm Roth and his Enforcement Agency cronies strutted around, professing to be the protectors of the Breed, when they had been as corrupt as a cancer, slowly chewing away at the foundation of what was truly good and just. Wilhelm Roth had been a villain all along, and Claire had been too blind to see it. But what hurt much worse than that was the fact that she'd been in love with Andreas Reichen for most of her life, and now that she had been given a miraculous second chance with him, it might be Wilhelm Roth who tore them apart once more. She could only hope that good would win out over evil like him and Dragos. She could only pray that once the worst was over, she and Andreas could begin to smooth over the fear and anger that stood between them now. The drive from Newport to Boston seemed to take years instead of an hour. She'd hated that she and Andreas hadn't been able to talk before Rio and Dylan had arrived to bring them to the compound.
And she still weathered the knot of cold anxiety that had settled in her heart in that instant when he'd leapt out of the vehicle once they reached the city. She didn't know where he'd gone, but she'd taken some small comfort in the fact that Elise had informed her that he was with Tegan now, both of them presumably on their way back to the compound. At least he was safe. At least she would still have the opportunity to try to make things right between them. Claire turned down one of the winding white hallways and followed the pattern of black glyphs inlaid in the floor. The marks were mesmerizing, especially when she was already lost in her thoughts. She caught a faint whiff of chlorine an instant before a door swung open in front of her in the corridor. A young girl with wet blond hair came to an abrupt stop directly in her path. She had a towel wrapped around her tiny frame, the straps of a pink swimsuit tank peeking over the top of the white terry cloth. "Oh!" Claire exclaimed, startled and surprised to see the child in the compound.
"I'm sorry. I didn't see you coming out of..." Her voice trailed off as she found herself staring into a pair of wide, luminescent eyes the color of polished silver. They were the oddest color--not really a color at all, but nearly white. Smooth as glass ... hypnotic. "I was just..." Claire murmured, uncertain what she meant to say next because in that instant the girl's eyes began to change. The surface of her irises warbled, like a pond suddenly sent quaking by the drop of a pebble into the water. Her pupils began to shrink to tiny pinpoints, drawing Claire deeper into the peculiar spell of the girl's eyes. Then she saw something move within the mirrorlike depths. It was an image taking shape swiftly, coming into focus as Claire peered in total rapt fascination. It was a woman, running in darkness. Screaming, grief-stricken. It was herself. Claire watched as the vision played out like a clip from a movie. But this was no movie; it was her life. Her personal anguish. She knew it instinctively, as she watched herself tearing through a thicket of trees and bramble, desperate to reach something--or someone--yet knowing from the ache in her soul that what she sought was lost to her already. There was a blinding glow of fire ahead of her, a deep pit of rubble that roared with flames and smoke, throwing off heat so intense it seared her like she was walking into a furnace. Someone shouted for her to get back. Still, she ran toward it. She couldn't turn away from it. Even though she knew in her heart that he was gone, she couldn't turn away from him. "Andre," she murmured aloud. The door swung open again and a woman came out this time. "Oh, God... Mira," she exclaimed, and hastily turned the little girl away from Claire, burying the child's face in the generous swell of her pregnant belly. Claire came out of her daze as if she'd been slapped. "What just happened?"
The other woman was kneeling down in front of the child now, smoothing a gentle palm over her cheeks and murmuring reassuring words to her. She offered Claire an apologetic look. "Hi, I'm Tess. You must be Claire. This is Mira. We were just having a swim. Are you all right?" Claire nodded. "Her eyes..." "Yes," Tess said. "Mira is a seer. She usually wears special contact lenses to mute her talent, but she took them out because she was afraid to lose them in the pool." "Hi, Claire," Mira said, careful to keep her gaze down now. "I didn't mean to scare you." "That's okay." Claire smiled and ran her hand over the top of the girl's damp head, even though she was still very rattled by what she'd witnessed. Tess seemed to pick up on her unease. The pregnant Breedmate's aquamarine eyes were tender, compassionate. "Mira, why don't you run along now. I'll be right there to read you a story while we wait for Renata and Niko to come in from their patrol." "Okay." The little girl pivoted toward Claire and murmured to her feet, "Nice to meet you." "You, too, Mira." After she was gone, Tess gave Claire a sympathetic smile. "Was it awful, the thing she showed you?" "Yes," she answered, too stricken to explain what she saw. Tess winced. "I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you that Mira's visions don't always come true. Her gift is mercilessly honest. She can't help it. She can't even control it, which is why she has the special lenses now. Each time she uses her talent, she loses some of her own sight." "How awful." And now Claire felt worse for having inadvertently taken something away from her. "I had no idea--" "You couldn't have, so please don't feel bad,"
Tess said, kindly absolving her of her guilt. "The vampire who had Mira before she came here to the compound used her talent constantly. Niko and Renata took her out of that bad situation just a few weeks ago. It's our hope that her sight can be restored in time." "I hope so, too," Claire murmured, feeling sorry for the girl, but her own thoughts were miles away. She had to tell Andreas what she'd seen. She didn't kid herself that he would listen to anything more she had to say, or even that he would want to see her after the way they'd left things between them in Newport. But she had to try to get through to him, if only so that he had the knowledge and could decide on his own what to do about it. Claire felt the other Breedmate watching her closely as if she understood the weight of her thoughts. "When I walked past the weapons room a short while ago, he was in there with Tegan and Rio. I believe they'd just come in. Would you like me to walk you down there?" "Thank you," Claire said, then fell in step beside Tess, her heart squeezed tightly in her chest.>He took the front passenger side and sat back as Rio wheeled the Rover down the driveway and headed for the road that would take them to the interstate. He was right about the trip being one long exercise in patience and control. While Claire and Dylan chatted softly behind him about the things they loved most about New England, and where they'd each grown up, and a hundred other harmless pleasantries, Reichen stared out the dark-tinted glass of the window and tried not to think about his hunger. It was a losing battle. By the time they exited the tollway and reached the inner city limits of Boston, his feverish hunger was demanding to be fed. "I need to walk for a while," he told Rio as the warrior came to a stop at a traffic light. He didn't wait for permission, just opened the door and jumped out. "I'll meet up with you at the compound shortly I know how to find you." From the backseat, he caught Claire's look of concern. He felt her worry rattle in his own blood, too. She thought he might be going after Roth on his own. He might have been tempted, if not for the clamoring of his thirst. Instead, once the SUV rolled away into the darkness, Reichen skulked through the thickly settled, working-class neighborhoods. He was careful to keep to the back-alley shadows, where it was easier to conceal his presence and his dark intentions. It was a blustery, rainy night in Boston, which meant far fewer loiterers on the sidewalks or standing outside the pubs sucking on cigarettes. Only a handful of the roughest and most desperate inpiduals had any reason to be outdoors tonight--Reichen among them. He searched the city's offerings with a cool eye, knowing that when he was like this, riding the far outer edge of his power, he was a predator in the meanest sense of the word. His mouth was parched, his fangs digging into his tongue. Like this, he was as deadly as the Ancient in Dragos's hidden lair.
A thirsting, savage monster. As Reichen prowled the back of a narrow neighborhood street, the bang of a storm door drew his head sharply up. A human male in a ball cap and baggy sweats stomped down a rickety wooden porch, screaming obscenities at the older woman who appeared backlit by lights from inside the house. "Getcha ass back here, Daniel! Do you hear me?" she shouted, loud enough for the surrounding four blocks to hear. The young male flipped her off and kept walking while he hollered back at her. "Yeah, yeah, fuck you too, Ma! Go back to ya bottle and stay the hell outta my weed, why don't ya! You owe me twenty bucks for the shit you stole from me!" Reichen cocked his head, watching the human cut down a dark side road. With his head down and his mouth working absently on all the things he still wanted to say to the drunk who spawned him, the kid didn't even notice that he wasn't alone in the narrow alley. He didn't see Reichen moving in from behind; probably only sensed him as a rush of cold air at the back of his tattooed neck. Before the human had a chance to utter a single startled gasp, Reichen sprang on him. He swiftly took him down to the cracked asphalt. Pushed the human's chin up and to the side, baring the hammering pulse at the side of his neck. He bit in deep, and sucked in a mouthful of warm, nourishing blood. He fed hungrily, greedily, ignoring the feeble struggles of his Host. Every gulp was bitter on his tongue, and did little to quench the desert dryness of his throat. His hunger persisted, even when the human's resistance had ended. Reichen kept feeding. He couldn't stop. He wasn't even sure he knew how--one of the terrible consequences of summoning his talent. He might have killed the man if not for the sudden awareness of cold hard steel pressing tight against the side of his head.
"The buffet is closed, asshole." Reichen grunted, only the dimmest flicker of recognition burning into his brain. He kept drinking, starving for more. The hammer on the large pistol cocked with a loud metallic warning. "Back the fuck off, or you're gonna be eating lead." He growled now, pissed off by the interruption and still too fevered to let up on his Host. Blood gushed over his tongue and down his throat, but the fire in his gut still burned, impossible to extinguish. He slid a feral gaze to the side to gauge the Breed male with the gun locked and loaded at his head. "Holy hell," the huge vampire muttered. The icy nose of the pistol fell away from his temple. "Reichen? What the fuck." Reichen knew this immense male with the wild tawny hair and stark green eyes. Instinct called him warrior--friend, even though his stance and tone a moment ago had conveyed deadly serious murder. It was that instinctive awareness that kept Reichen from turning on the vampire as a strong hand came down on his shoulder and physically peeled him off his prey. He was shoved back hard, and the other male grabbed the human to seal the punctures with an efficient sweep of his tongue. Reichen watched, ass planted on the concrete, as the big Breed male palmed the human's forehead and erased his memory of the attack. "Now get the hell out of here." The stunned man stood up and wandered dazedly toward the other end of the alley. "Tegan," Reichen murmured thickly, voicing the name that finally sprang into his consciousness. The warrior stalked over to him. "What are you doing down here? Last I heard, Lucan had sent Rio out to Newport to chauffeur your sorry ass into the compound." Reichen shrugged.
"I had the sudden urge for takeout along the way." Tegan didn't laugh. He kept that fierce gaze trained on Reichen, watching him as he might an armed grenade. "You look like shit." "I'm better now," Reichen replied, feeling the new blood quenching his organs and cells. But it hadn't been enough. His thirst was still gnawing at him, greedy for more. "I am fine." Tegan scoffed. "You've got the shakes and you can't keep your eyes focused on a damn thing." "It will pass." This time a raw curse. "Give me your hand. Doesn't look like you can get up on your own motor." Reichen took the offered help, clasping Tegan's hand and letting himself be pulled to his feet. No sooner had he risen than Tegan drew in a sharp hiss. His fangs punched into view behind his lip, and the green of his eyes was suddenly shot with flecks of glowing amber. Reichen recalled the warrior's ability to read emotion with a touch, and he could only guess at the torrent of disturbing things he'd just picked up from that brief contact. "What the fuck is going on with you, man?" he demanded.
"It's the pyro... does this to me afterward. No big deal." Even as he said it, Reichen wondered if it was true. Summoning his power was getting easier all the time; coming out of its wake was another thing. Maybe Claire was right when she challenged him about his fury. How many more times could he do this and hope to emerge from it in one piece? How soon before he reached the tipping point and the fires ate away the very last scrap of his humanity? And if the fires didn't do it, he had the sickening feeling that the nearly insatiable thirst left in their wake surely would. "Shit," Tegan exhaled, holding him in a narrowed, assessing look. He pulled a cell phone out of his jacket pocket and pressed a key. "Yeah, it's me. I'm down in Jamaica Plain. I've got Reichen here with me, I'm bringing him in to the compound."