Raising Innocence: A Rylee Adamson Novel(47)

With the water going full bore, I soaped up, re-hashing what I’d seen. The Necromancer knew how to use the Veil to travel in such a way that I couldn’t find the entranceway, he had an undead set of guards to cover his back trail, and now he knew someone was onto him. I had fucked up—royally. There had to be something good that I could squeeze out of this day. Wasn’t there?
Smoke and rot washed from my body, bandage and herbal poultice on the bite, and clean clothes on, I was ready to head back to the station. A quick glance in the bathroom mirror showed no cuts or bruises on my face, nothing that would give me away.
My hand was on the doorknob when the soft rumble of a man’s voice reached out from the living area. A voice I wanted nothing to do with.
Shit, all I had with me was my big bowie knife; my two swords I’d left in the bedroom, which was adjacent to the bathroom. But if I tried to get them, I would be visible to the main living area and he would see me. Not to mention there was no way I could leave him there with Pamela all alone.
“I can hear your heartbeat escalate, Rylee.”
Fuck!
I stepped out of the bathroom and eyed up Faris. The vampire looked the same as the last time I’d seen him; eyes a piercing ice blue, blond hair and stunning smile with only a whisper of fangs. I had to work at slowing my heart rate, at which Faris gave me a slight nod of acknowledgement. This was so not good in so many ways.
“Pamela.” I held out my hand to her and she stepped toward me, but Faris barred the way with his arm. Alex shook where he sat, but his lips were slowly lifting back over his teeth.
“Come now, I was just getting to know the girl,” Faris said, reaching out to stroke Pamela’s hair. She cringed away from him.
I pulled out the bowie knife. “Let her pass . . .”
He laughed. “Or what, you’ll stick me with your butter knife?”
My eyes narrowed; I had nothing to threaten him with, no weapon that would truly hurt him, no blackmail to make him do what I wanted.
“I could use another witch,” Faris said. “The one I have is a pain in the ass. And this one is young and teachable . . . malleable.”
He spoke like we were business associates out for lunch.
Alex sidled up to me, pressing himself against my legs. “Smells like Milly.”
If there had been a light bulb over my head, it would’ve exploded. Milly had a way to locate me, via my left over blood, and if she was working for Faris, he had access to that ability. That was singularly disastrous in my mind. If he could find me anywhere . . . it was almost as bad as him being able to Track me.
Only one way to find out if that was the case. I managed to keep my voice even. “Milly’s working with you?”
Faris nodded, though his eyes never strayed from Pamela, and I saw her sway. He was enthralling her.
No time to waste, I took two steps toward them and threw my knife, catching Faris along the side of his face and cutting off the rim of his ear.
With a roar, his head snapped around and his eyes all but nailed me to the spot. “You’d dare attack me when I come with terms of peace?”
My jaw clenched and unclenched, fear pooling in my belly. I had no weapon now and nothing close at hand.
I was in deep shit.
“You can’t have her. Bad enough you already took Milly from me.”
His blood dripped on the floor, leaving a trail as he stalked toward me. “She was already taken by darkness when I found her. You’re blind, Tracker, when it comes to those you love. You never see them for what they truly are.”
I stepped back for every step forward he took, my mind racing to find a way out of this. A glance over at Pamela showed her sagged against a chair, eyes glazed over. Alex moved with me, his hackles up and a low growl rumbling through his chest.
“No hurt Ryleeee!” He howled as he launched himself at Faris. Even with his teeth and claws bared, the werewolf was knocked aside as if he were a bothersome fly, not a two hundred-pound supernatural. Alex was thrown across the room, his back slamming into the corner of the door frame with a sickening crack of bone. Limp, he fell to the ground and lay there, unmoving.
“You really should be wiser in choosing your friends. They are weak, young, and so easy to turn against you.” He smiled and in a flash pinned me against the wall, yanking my wrists above my head, and holding them there with one hand. We’d been here before, him and me. It hadn’t ended well.
“Thanks, I needed the stretch,” I said, sweat dripping down my sides. I was so fucked, there was no way out, no lifeline I could grab. I couldn’t even get my foot up to boot him in the knee. Doran had given me that tidbit and it had, I was sure, saved my life the first time I’d met Faris. But not this time; Faris was working me over very carefully.