Deathtrap (Crossbreed Series Book 3)(56)
“Aye, I’ll look after her.” Christian’s attention drifted when he heard Für Elise playing on Raven’s music box outside.
He suddenly jumped when Crush stabbed between Christian’s legs with a knife, sinking the blade into the chair. He’d been so distracted by the music that he hadn’t heard the human pull the switchblade from his back pocket.
“One more thing,” Crush said. “Now that I’ve got your undivided attention.”
Christian’s expression tightened, but he didn’t remove the knife from the chair.
“I know why you tagged along,” Crush continued. “But see, I already know about your world. You don’t have to scrub my memory to keep your secret. I know how this favor thing works and how you immortals value it more than gold. Let me keep this memory of my daughter, and I’ll owe you one.”
Christian narrowed his eyes. “What could I possibly want from you?”
Crush sat back and folded his arms. “I’m sure something will come to mind. I’ve lived in your world for years. Why not get something out of it?”
“And what if I’m doing this as a favor to your daughter?”
“Then you’ll have to figure out a way to repay her that favor without her knowing. Next time she needs something, you do it. No questions asked. Then whatever conscience you have is clean.”
“And what if she asks me to do her laundry for eternity?”
Crush stood up and emptied his pockets, pulling the lining out. “I’m all out of fucks to give.”
Christian freed the knife and set it on the table. It was a tempting offer. Scrubbing Crush’s memory seemed superfluous, especially given the fact that he didn’t just know about their world but was immersed in it. There was also a risk that if Christian left any holes, Crush’s friends might sense something was off. It could backfire on him in a big way. Scrubbing his memory would be the easiest way to even his debt with Raven, but making a deal with Crush meant another favor in his pocket. He’d be a fool to turn down a favor owed, even from a human.
Christian rose to his feet and inclined his head. “I’ll tell her it’s done, but on one condition.”
Crush slid his jaw to the side. “What’s that?”
“You’re mortal and probably one cheeseburger away from a coronary. The favor carries over after death to one of your friends. A Sensor can validate I’m telling the truth.”
“Men like me don’t die easily.”
“You’re human. You all die easily.”
“My buddies won’t trust a Vamp.”
“Then my friend will hunt down your ghost and make you pay up from the afterworld.”
Crush grimaced. “You know a Gravewalker?”
“Do we have a deal, or do we need to sit down and get to business?”
It took a minute, but Crush capitulated. “You can see my buddy Red. Just tell him he still owes me a favor for that piece-of-shit car. He’ll know exactly what you’re talking about, but I have a feeling you’ll come asking long before the Reaper shows up at my door. Shake on it.” Crush held out his hand.
Christian stared at it.
“Don’t be such a pussy. I know you guys prefer to bow and shit, but I’m a man of honor, and we shake on things.”
Christian held out his hand, and even though Crush was just a mortal, his grip was iron. “Then you and I have a deal.”
Chapter 26
“How do you feel?” Gem watched me with keen interest as she rolled along on her skates.
“More like myself. I think my light’s almost pure again,” I said, rubbing my heavy-lidded eyes. It was already evening, another day lost. After coming home late from visiting my father the night before, I stayed in my room all day. I’d spent most of the time thinking about our conversation, but my body still needed to catch up on sleep.
She gave me an elfin grin. “I should hope so. You slept the entire day. Alas, you missed out on Christian’s oatmeal extravaganza this morning. I finally know what wet sawdust tastes like. He also volunteered to make lunch, but everyone chipped in for Chinese delivery instead. Viktor’s probably going to extend your cooking rotation since you haven’t done much of it.”
I slowed my gait and stared down at my white socks. “Dark light takes a lot out of me. I don’t think you would have wanted me in the kitchen.”
“Where did you and Christian go last night?”
“He wanted to talk to a guy about fixing his car. I slept most of the time. How’s Claude?”
“Purrrfect.” She giggled and skated ahead of me, her long black duster decorated with white butterflies flapping behind her. “He can’t go to the party tonight since he’s still recovering. Viktor ordered him to stay in bed, and he didn’t put up a fight. So he must be in pain.”
I snorted. “Or he doesn’t care for going to fancy balls.”
Gem twirled in a circle and then stopped. “Everyone likes balls.”
I buried a laugh. “Why so glum?”
“I won’t have my buddy to keep me company.” Her violet lips turned down. “He always saves me from the awkward socialites who engage in dull conversations about how wretched modern-day living is compared to the Middle Ages when they had public beheadings and ate with their hands.”
My gaze dragged up to the arched ceiling, and I marveled at the way the candlelight danced across every crevice of stone. Even though visiting my father and saying good-bye was the hardest thing I’d ever done, it had finally given me peace. The same kind of peace you feel when you get a funeral over with and you don’t have that heavy weight on your shoulders of the final good-bye. My fangs had come as a shock to him, but why hadn’t he asked more about it? Maybe it was too much to take in. I couldn’t blame him. I mean, he thought he’d buried me, and there I was, drinking cocoa in his kitchen. He probably figured I’d joined a cult.
It didn’t matter anymore. Christian had scrubbed his memory of the visit.
When we entered Wyatt’s computer room, I saw the back of Christian’s head. His arms were draped over the sides of a beanbag chair, and The Matrix was playing on the television. I frowned. Christian wasn’t the kind of guy who sat around watching TV, let alone by himself.
I plopped down in Wyatt’s leather chair and flicked a wrapper away from the keyboard.
Gem turned in a circle and then gripped the doorframe. “Well, I’m going to go downstairs and swim before it gets too late. Night, all!”
I switched on the desktop computer that Wyatt allowed the team to use. “Is Viktor repairing the van?”
“Aye. What are you doing in here?”
I typed in a few search words. “Some of those files I was looking at before this Cristo case came along have me curious.”
“The Vampire trading? Let it go, Raven.”
While Christian watched Morpheus offer Neo a choice between the blue or red pill, I tumbled down my own rabbit hole on the Internet. Now that Cristo’s case was closed, I knew we would probably have downtime until our next assignment.
First, I typed in “people obsessed with Vampires.” I read a few articles about the obsession with immortality, blood, and feeling chosen. I tried a few other search terms and scrolled through several pages until I found a comprehensive website about Vampires. The site contained a long list of categories. Vampire culture, history, clothing, folklore, social groups, photographs, facts, and media. The links with the facts had it mostly wrong. I supposed because the light hurt their eyes, people thought that Vampires couldn’t come out in the daylight. Stakes paralyzed them, so one could easily assume it killed them. I wasn’t sure where the whole myth with holy water and silver came in—probably from the church.
Thirty minutes later, I wound up on a message board. I had to create a name and password to log on, so I chose CookieMonster. Once in, I perused.
“Whoa. What a bunch of weirdos,” I murmured. There was actually a board for people who bragged about drinking from their pets. When I saw a picture of someone licking a rat, I quickly scrolled down.
These humans either claimed to be Vampires or wanted to be a creature of the night. One section looked more like the personals where people were requesting to be slaves. A post with three hundred replies grabbed my attention. The message was an alleged Vampire asking for someone who wanted to be his chosen one. I scrolled down, looking at one reply after the next from people desperate to be selected.
“Christian, remember those files I was looking at? The black marketeer who’s selling women?”
Christian held up his hand. “Bloody hell, he’s in a pod! Have you seen this? If someone told me that was the real world, I’d shove my finger down my throat and vomit the drugs.”
“It wasn’t a real pill,” I said. “He just opened his mind to the possibility.”
Christian wasn’t listening to me anymore.
I looked at the original post, in which the author had misspelled discreet, and jotted down the poster’s name on a piece of paper. It was probably a coincidence; half the Internet couldn’t spell. I printed out the page and folded it in half, deciding to include it in the file. Before closing the browser window, I left a message of my own. Most of them were long and looked like a résumé, while others were desperate pleas to be chosen. What were these guys looking for?