Consumed
Page 10“It should not take more than a few hours for our researchers to match the names with addresses,” Antonio assured her.
“Which means you all have a few hours to recover,” Jared informed the squad members. “Max, Denny, Stuart, and Reuben won’t be coming, since they need more time to recuperate from their injuries.”
“We’ll take Alora, Jude, Paige, and Imani in their place,” announced Sam. The four females had joined the battle to defend The Hollow against the attack a few months ago. Sam had then offered them a place in her upcoming female squad, and all four had gratefully accepted.
Jared smiled. “Evan won’t like it.” Evan, who happened to be Jared’s twin brother as well as Alora’s partner, was seriously overprotective of her. Almost as bad as I was with Ava…who had slinked away from me a few minutes ago, the minx.
Sam blinked at her mate. “You say that like it matters.” Jared just snorted. “Ava will be coming too,” she then told me.
Ignoring the ‘there’s no point fighting me on this’ expression on Sam’s face, I said, “She saw a lot of shit tonight. A break would be good for her.”
Sam slid me a look of complete disgust. “Either you’re underestimating her – which I strongly doubt – or you’re just being your interfering, overprotective self. She’s part of this now. She’ll want to see it through. Bloody deal with it or she’ll end up ramming the heel of one of her stilettos right up your arse.”
Antonio bowed his head, making his wealth of thick, shoulder length coal-black hair shield his face, and I knew he was trying to hide a smile – unlike everyone else, who openly showed how amused they were at my expense. Assholes.
Damien folded his arms across his chest. “Speaking of seeing the assignment through…What will happen to the clients, Coach? Are they next on the list?”
“Go eat, drink some NSTs, and wait for our call,” ordered Jared.
Wanting a quick word with Sam and Jared, I stayed behind as the rest of the squad left. Antonio also remained, but I didn’t mind speaking in front of him. “You got a minute?”
“Sure,” said Sam.
“The owner of the brothel…I think I may have met her before.”
Surprised, Jared asked, “When?”
“Before I joined the legion. My Sire ran a fight club.” Will had made me into a vampire forty-eight years ago; had given me a chance to get revenge on the bastards who –
I quickly shut the door on that memory. “Many vampires went there and fought against others for money. I was one of my Sire’s fighters. He ran the business, but he didn’t own it.”
“A woman did,” guessed Antonio.
Sam and Jared exchanged a look.
“It might not be the same vampire,” commented Antonio. “It could just be one with the same gift, or even something similar.”
“Maybe, but I thought it might be worth mentioning.”
“Would you be all right with Ryder scanning your mind?” asked Sam.
Not really.
She quickly assured me, “He won’t snoop where he’s not invited. He’ll just look for your memories – vague though they may be – of her.”
Nonetheless, I wasn’t comfortable with anyone poking around in my head. In truth, it wasn’t a good place for anyone to be. But this was too important to ignore. “All right.”
“At the moment, he’s visiting dear old Marge. I sent Harvey to keep her immobile, since it’s possible she’s able to put others under sedation. It might be that she needs to touch people in order to do it. We weren’t prepared to take the chance.” Sam glanced at her watch. “Meet me at my office in an hour. Ryder will be done with Marge by then.”
(Ava)
Standing under the hot spray of the shower, I sighed. I’d needed this; needed to wash off the blood of the survivors and the smells of death and despair from my skin. Needed to have this space and time to properly assimilate everything I’d seen at that manor.
Was the horror I’d witnessed discouraging me from joining the legion? Maybe it should. I had no problem admitting I had a soft heart and was nowhere near as emotionally tough as Sam. But I wasn’t discouraged, I wasn’t thinking of walking away. Quite the opposite, actually.
For weeks now, I’d been struggling about whether to accept Sam’s offer. Cristiano had assured me that he wouldn’t view me leaving him as disloyal, and he’d even encouraged me to stay at The Hollow for a little while; see if it was a place I could imagine myself being happy. It turned out that I could, but leaving him would be hard.
We had been inseparable growing up, thick as thieves. He had always been extremely protective of me, just as I had always been extremely protective of him – which was a good thing, since our parents hadn’t given a shit about either of us. They were both crack-heads that were wrapped up in their own little world and did nothing but argue. Only one thing kept them together: their addiction.
I was eight when the social workers came and took me and Cristiano away. First we were given to our maternal grandmother, then later to our maternal aunt, and then we pit-stopped at a few foster homes. Why had we moved around so much? Because no one found the package of a little girl with a mild case of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and a boy who had anger management issues to be all that attractive or rewarding.
Back then, Cristiano had had so much rage in him, so much suppressed violence. It had made him irritable, withdrawn, and unable to bond – always on the attack as a method of defence. I, on the other hand, had always been my usual upbeat, energetic self. At first, our new caretakers had liked that I was chatty and open; it made them feel good about themselves, I now understood. They felt like we were bonding, like they were good at the parenting stuff.