I looked up, saw the black van stop and two blurry figures get out. Wondered whether they were coming for Amanda or me.
The information, some still-aware part of my brain whispered. They can’t get Amanda’s information.
Somehow, as the world started going black around me, I dragged the USBs from my pocket and slid them under the seat.
Then everything did go black, and I knew no more.
CHAPTER 11
Waking was a slow and agonizing process. As I climbed toward full awareness, various bruised and battered bits of my body came to life, and they all seemed overly determined to make consciousness a living hell.
I tried to shift position and ease some of the pain, but quickly discovered I couldn’t move. It took several minutes to realize why—my hands and my feet were tied so tightly that red-hot lances of agony were shooting up my limbs. To make matters worse, a herd of people wearing hobnail boots were stomping about inside my head.
Waking, I decided, just wasn’t worth it. But try as I might, I couldn’t slip back into the peaceful bliss of unconsciousness. I took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath and forced my eyelids open. To be greeted by nothing but black.
But one thing was obvious immediately—wherever the hell I was, it was no longer in Jackson’s truck. I had no idea how much time had passed, but surely I hadn’t been unconscious long enough that day had turned into night. And even if it had, night wasn’t usually this dark.
Thinking maybe there was something wrong with my vision, I blinked. It didn’t help. Everything was still black.
But it was a blackness that was not uninhabited. Out there in the darkness, someone was watching. I couldn’t hear him, I couldn’t smell him, but I was nevertheless aware of him. The energy of his presence skittered across my senses, powerful and yet oddly repelling.
“I know you’re there.” The words came out little more than a husky whisper. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Show yourself.”
For several minutes, there was no response. Tension crawled through me, and it was tempting—very tempting—to reach for whatever fire remained within and let it loose. But it was never a good move to reveal your trump card too soon—especially when that card wasn’t up to scratch. The first thing I was going to do once I got out of this place—if I got out of this place—was reenergize with Rory so I could shift shape and burn the remnants of the drug from my system. I couldn’t afford to be powerless—not when our investigations kept taking such nasty turns.
I flexed my fingers, desperate to get some life into them as much as trying to uncover what I’d been tied with. It didn’t feel like rope. It was cool and smooth against my skin rather than rough, and there was odd warmth to it.
Silver, I realized. They’d tied me with silver. Which, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t have been much of a problem, as silver didn’t actually restrain or hinder those of us who were spirits.
But the fact that my captors had tied me with silver suggested they suspected I was a nonhuman, even if they didn’t exactly know what.
“Look, whatever it is you want, just get on with it.” Though I kept my voice low, it nevertheless spurred the hobnailed idiots in my head into greater action. Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them away furiously. “I really haven’t got the time to be playing games.”
As I half expected, it was a comment that finally got a response.
“And yet,” a cool voice replied, “we have.”
It wasn’t my watcher who spoke, but someone I hadn’t sensed until now. Someone who stood behind me. I didn’t bother twisting around to try to spot him. Not only would the hobnailed folk be unappreciative of such an action, but the utter blanket of darkness made any hope of spotting him nigh on impossible. Phoenixes weren’t blessed with the extraordinary eyesight of werewolves and vampires.
And that, I thought with a chill, was who held me now.
Vampires. And not just any old vampires, but the sindicati.
Fuck.
“Well, good for you,” I said, trying to keep my voice even despite my heart hammering so hard I swear it was attempting to jump out of my chest. “But, as I said, I have things to do. Can we please just move this along?”
“It is odd that you do not question who we are or why you are here.” He’d moved to my left, though I’d heard no footsteps.
A tremor ran through me. Only the very old ones could walk so silently. I licked my lips and tried to shove old fears back into their box. That I was still alive meant they had some use for me. Whether they’d let me go after I’d fulfilled those uses was another matter entirely.
“I don’t question who you are because I already know that. As to why I am here—” I paused, then shrugged. I might not be able to see them, but I had no doubt that the two men in this room—if they were vamps—could see me as clear as day. Vamps were blessed with night sight very similar to infrared. Even if he couldn’t taste my fear or hear the pounding of blood through my veins, he’d be able to see it. “I’m gathering it has something to do with Amanda Wilson.”
“Then you would gather wrong.”
Meaning I was in even deeper shit than I’d thought.
The voice, however, hadn’t quite finished. “And just who do you think we are?”
“Sindicati, obviously.”
“Ah,” he said, his cool voice still giving little away. But then, if my guess was right and he was a very old vampire, that was no surprise. They had a tendency to become more remote—and far less human—the longer they were alive. “Dear Amanda obviously talked far more than was wise.”
“Dear Amanda had little other choice given it was either talk to me or I’d leave her to the tender mercies of whatever goons you decided to send after her next.”
The speaker was silent for several minutes. I closed my eyes and tried to get some sense of him. But all I could feel was the man whose presence was beginning to scratch at my skin like some foul disease. He was the real power here, I suddenly realized, not the man who spoke.
“Ah, so you are the reason no one has heard from either of the subcontractors.”
“Well, I might be responsible for one being incommunicado, but not the other. He is, as far as I know, still in the hands of PIT.”
This news finally got a reaction. It was little more than a hiss of annoyed air, but it was nevertheless there. It made me wonder if the werewolf we’d questioned was more closely connected to the sindicati than just being a mere subcontractor. While wolves and vampires generally weren’t overly fond of one another, there were certain elements within each society that happily coexisted. I suspected the sindicati and whatever the werewolf equivalent was would be one of those.
“And you are responsible for this?”
“Well, he did try to kill me.”
“An unfortunate mistake on his part,” was the response. “Especially since we still have need of you.”
And if they didn’t, would I now be dead? The answer, very obviously, was yes. I flexed my hands, felt the surge of heat across my fingertips, but resisted the urge to let it show. I might have little more than sparks, but those sparks might yet save my life.
“Which leads neatly back to my original question,” I said. “What the hell do you want from me?”
“Ah,” the vampire said. “You are a being who obviously does not appreciate the complexities of bargaining.”