Page 49 of From the Shadows
A brilliant smile lit Diego’s face. “And you should. He loves it.”
“Okay, you’re kinda freaking me out. This can’t all be about Ranna.”
“I went to see Dr. Oliver, as you requested. Before I forget, he wants us to sit and talk with him. He thinks we might provide valuable insights into the truth about being blood-tied. Anyway, it seemsthe esteemed quack has an ancestor who had theories about blood-tied parties. You and your miracle come are credited with saving my life, ridding me of that awful vein, and restoring my vitality. There is a downside to it, though. In order for me to remain healthy, you’ll have to put out on a pretty regular basis.”
“Put out? Oh, no. Such a hardship,” Shay teased. “Anytime, anywhere.”
“Excellent. I had the guys make the food so you could help me eat before you had your breakfast.” He smirked. “I’ll give you a blow job to sweeten the deal.”
That sounded spectacular. Shay grabbed Diego’s hand and led him to the bedroom, where he was looking forward to seeing Diego bobbing up and down on his cock.
Yeah, he could totally get used to this.
Chapter 15
The screen showedimages of a slaughter. The pictures were high resolution, showing the abraded skin, wide, fear-filled eyes, bodies torn apart by savage strength, the flesh and sinew ripped off at the joints. These people didn’t die quickly. They were tortured, made to suffer. And Diego knew who’d done it. There was only one thing he didn’t know.
“How?” he demanded, driving his fist into the laptop keyboard, smashing it to hell. Screw it, Biggs could afford new equipment.
“We don’t know,” Borne replied, his voice tinged with regret. “Maybe they came in through the sewers? Hell, they could have dressed themselves as caterers for all we know. Whatever it was, they were in and out in less than an hour, but the damage they inflicted was incalculable. Fifty-three dead, most dismembered or savaged. It looks as though the vampires may have sexually violated a few of the corpses—both male and female—though that hasn’t been confirmed yet.”
Diego scrubbed a hand over his face. Why would Cristobal do this? It made no sense at all. Well, other than he was off his fucking rocker. He’d learned through many years of doing bounty work, plus his dealing with the less savory elements of the paranormalworld, that trying to suss out the motives of creatures—and humans—was an exercise in futility.
Plus, as Shay and Ranna had been telling him recently, there was good and bad in every group. Still, after the things he’d seen in his years, Diego wasn’t sure he believed it. Supernatural beings had… advantages over humans. Increased strength. Aggression. Heightened senses. Oh, and that whole insatiable-bloodlust thing that some species had. Humans had guns and knives and shit like that, but nearly anything extra-human would have them disarmed, sometimes quite literally, before they could even aim.
He kept poring over the pictures, the pain lancing through his heart of the images of the victims. He did his best to commit every face and name to memory, because he and the teamwouldget justice for them.
“I want us to reach out to the Fates,” he said, anger building again.
Borne gasped. “Are you sure? That’s a pretty tall?—”
“I’ll do it,” Diego assured him. “They owe me one, and I’m going to collect.”
The Fates, contrary to their names, were not the Greek goddesses. They were a coven of women who each possessed precognition, the ability to see things that would happen in the future. Sadly, their skills were limited to a few hours at most, but any little bit of help they’d be able to provide could be the difference between life and death.
“Let me go with you,” Shay said from behind him. “This has to stop.”
“No. The Fates have some very weird habits. One of them is reading the future of anyone who comes into their domain. They see events only a few hours in advance, but a person’s lifeline? That they can trace to the end. And if you walk in, they’ll be all over you. They wouldn’t be able to help themselves.”
“So?”
Diego put a hand on Shay’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He needed to impress on him the risks of dealing with these creatures. “There are a lot of variables in someone’s life.Decisions they make on a daily—hell, minute by minute—basis that changes their destiny. Seeing the Fates will fuck with your mind. They’ll tell you with absolute certainty that you’ll die in a car crash forty years from now, and that might make you feel invincible. Then you’ll walk out and get crushed by a falling brick wall. Their abilities will work for this, because finding a group committing murder is a more generalized thing. Specific events, like a person’s death? Those are so much harder to read and predict accurately. Besides, they’re not aggressive, so I’ll be in no danger.”
Shay frowned. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘too stupid to live’? It’s where someone in a book or movie does something that every single person reading or watching knows they shouldn’t do, but they go ahead and do it anyway. That kid attacked you, Diego. He gave you a warning that Cristobal was after you. Going alone is probably the stupidest fucking thing you could do.” He scowled as he turned to Martin. “You’re going with him.”
Martin’s eyes widened. “You don’t say. I didn’t know you were in charge.”
“I do say.” He smiled. “Because if you don’t tag along, I will.”
“Oh, is that how this is going to go? Guess Diego has a travel buddy. I get to pick the music.”
“Fuck no,” Diego snapped. “He likes that hippie shit from the sixties. To me, anything that isn’t classical is nothing but shrieking and caterwauling. No. Definitely not.”
“Really?” Shay seemed bemused. “You need to update your tastes in music to the twenty-first century. There have been some amazing artists since you were born. Well, reborn, I guess. One day we’ll go to a concert, and you can hear it for yourself.”
Diego winced. “I’ll take it under advisement, but I’m not making any promises.”
Shay waved him off. “Go visit your Fates. We need to put this crap to rest.”
