Angel's Pain

When she woke at sundown, Briar rose instantly. She'd never been one to linger in bed. When the sun sank and the power of the day sleep vanished, it happened, for her, all at once. Her eyes opened wide, her mind came sharply alert and her senses automatically scanned her immediate surroundings for any hint of a threat.

She found none and sat up, flipped back the covers, got out of the bed and listened. But the house remained quiet. The others were likely a bit slower to rouse than she was. And as for the mortals, Roxy and Ilyana, they must be napping or in some other part of the mansion.

There was no reason to hurry, but Briar always felt as if there was, always felt in a rush to do whatever there was to be done, always felt a vague sense that if she slowed down or relaxed at all, something would catch up with her. Something bad. She never bothered to analyze that feeling. It was just the way she was.

Besides, there were things to be done. Important things. Roxy and Ilyana had planned to spend some time on the Internet during the daylight hours, scanning

the news for any signs of where Gregor might be. Locating him was her only goal right now, and she was entirely focused on it.

The sooner she knew where he was, the sooner she would be able to go after him. Alone, without this gang of white-hats weighing her down, probing her psyche, trying to find some kind of redeeming quality in her soul.

They never would. She didn't even have a soul.

Briar chose clothes from the duffel bag she hadn't bothered to unpack, seeing as she didn't intend to be here that long. Then she headed into the bathroom to clean up and dress and run a brush through her hair. By the time she finished, she sensed that the others were up and active. They were gathering now in one of the rooms below. She could feel their energy there. There was a sense of excitement that perked her attention. Roxy must have found something, then.

Briar hurried from her bedroom, then stopped in the living area of the suite, her attention drawn to the closed door. She wasn't sensing Crisa. Could she be sleeping? The thought that she might have expired during her rest niggled at the back of Briar's brain like claws scratching at her mind, drawing blood. Swallowing hard, she faced the door, lifted her chin and strode forward to fling it open.

Crisa's bed was empty, the covers rumpled and tossed. Her backpack was open, clothes strewn everywhere around it on the floor, including the ones she'd been wearing when she'd gone to sleep.

A breeze touched Briar's face, and she turned toward the window. It stood wide open, sheer white curtains dancing like ghosts.

An unfamiliar rush of panic drove her across the room to the windowsill, and she leaned out, staring down, half expecting to see Crisa's broken body lying below.

But there was no sign of the troubled girl.

"Dammit. Where the hell are you, Crisa?"

As she honed her senses, Briar felt something. Something dark and compelling. And then it overwhelmed her completely as she somehow melded with Crisa's mind, felt what she felt, saw what she saw.

When she opened her eyes, Briar saw trees and bushes all around her, and sensed the steady, powerful but uneven movement of her legs, plodding, setting her feet down one after the other as she moved through the brush. Branches smacked her face, stinging her, but she ignored those, driven forward. Ever forward.

Crisa! Briar cried out to her mentally. Crisa, where are you? Where are you going? Why didn't you wait for me?

The reply came in a rush, in a mental voice that was nothing like the girl Briar had known. There was no innocent adoration; this was no naive child who didn't understand the ways of the Undead or of the world in general. Instead, this response was dark, deep, angry and determined.

Leave me alone!

Crisa, listen to me!

No!

And just like that, the door to Crisa's mind slammed and Briar landed back in her own body with such a jolt that she nearly fell over. She had to grip the nearby bedpost to keep her balance. She wouldn't have believed Crisa even knew how to block her thoughts that way. And yet, she just had.

Something unfamiliar twisted in Briar's gut. And then she released the bedpost and turned for the door, running, not walking, intent on reaching the group below, Reaper in particular.

And she kept on running, her mind racing, until she was downstairs and bursting into the room where they all stood.

And then she paused and took stock. Since when was her first instinct in times of trouble to run to them? To run to him?

Reaper looked up when Briar burst into the den where they had all gathered upon waking. Roxy had called them there, and was, even at that moment, leaning over a laptop computer, punching up news stories. Ilyana was at her side, a good six inches taller and painfully lean where Roxy was lush and curvy.

"There were four incidents, all the same, each in a different state, and all apparently took place overnight," Roxy said.

"It had to be Gregor," Ilyana added. "Somehow, he's responsible for every one of them."

"Even a vampire couldn't have been in four states at once," Seth was saying.

Reaper ignored them, his eyes focused on Briar's face, and a second later he was beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder to snap her out of wherever she'd gone inside her mind.

"What is it, Briar? What's happened? Is Crisa all right?"

Her eyes shifted into focus again, met his. "She's gone."

"Gone?" He was blank for a moment, before the meaning grew clear to his mind. "Crisa's gone?"

Briar nodded hard. Her eyes seemed strained with worry, and her jaw was tight. "Her bedroom window's open. She changed clothes before she left." Blinking twice, looking down but clearly not seeing, he thought, she went on. "We have to find her."

"We will." Reaper turned to face the others, who had fallen silent one by one at Briar's entrance. "We'll split up into teams and head out in different directions. Everyone try to home in on her and-"

"I don't think so, Reaper." The declaration came quietly, but in a firm, determined tone, from the mortal Ilyana. She'd straightened away from the computer and squared her shoulders. When he shot her a look of disbelief, she pushed a hand through her short platinum hair, a slightly nervous gesture. And yet she went on firmly, saying, "We just got our first solid leads on Gregor. Finding him is our mission, or am I mistaken about that?"

Reaper held her gaze and he didn't bother making his voice gentle. "My mission is to find him."

"It may be your mission? she said, her tone softer now, "but it's my goal in life. There's nothing more important to me right now."

She was afraid of them, he thought. All of them, and Briar in particular. That she was showing enough courage now to disagree with him instigated a surge of admiration for her guts, in spite of the irritation that came with it. "And yet you've never told us why," he said.

"I don't freaking give a damn why!" Briar let the words burst from her in a rush, fueled by emotion he'd rarely seen in her.

"Look, mortal, it was my goal in life, too. But now Crisa's missing, and you know she can't take care of herself. Finding her takes precedence."

"This from someone who pretends not to care about her," Roxy muttered. "I knew better the whole time, of course, but-"

"Can it, Roxy." Briar swung her gaze around the room, letting it land on the others. Seth and Vixen, Jack and Topaz, Mirabella.

"No one among you wants to get Gregor more than I do, believe me. But this is Crisa we're talking about."

"She's one of us," Vixen said. "She's more important than any mission."

"She's not more important than mine," Ilyana said softly. She shared a look with Roxy, who nodded her agreement.

"Why?" Reaper demanded.

Ilyana looked at him, then lowered her head and shook it slowly.

"Oh, for the love of God, Ilyana, just tell them, will you, so we can get on with this?" Briar snapped. When Ilyana turned her wide eyes toward her, Briar rolled her own in return, then turned and paced away. "I don't have time to fuck with you and your secrets while Crisa's out there in danger." She turned again, facing them. "She had a kid with him. With Gregor."

Reaper hadn't thought much could surprise him, but this certainly did. He looked from Briar to Ilyana in disbelief.

"She and Gregor were together and had a son, then Gregor took the kid. He still has him, as far as she knows," Briar explained.

"That's why she wants to find him so bad. To get her kid back."

"How do you-" Reaper began.

"I overheard her telling Roxy. And for what it's worth, Ilyana, I totally get it. And I've got no problem with you going after him, and I'll probably even help you by fulfilling my own need to slit the bastard's throat and watch him bleed out. Slowly, I hope.

But nobody is going anywhere until we find Crisa."

"You have a child?" Topaz whispered, staring at Ilyana and ignoring Briar now. "Gregor has your son?"

"Oh, my God," Vixen whispered. "Oh, my God, you poor thing. That poor child."

"Look, Ilyana," Seth told her, moving to stand beside her. "I know you don't like vamps, and we all get that. But you're with us now. And you'd better believe we'll help you get your kid back safe and sound."

"Absolutely," Topaz agreed.

Jack was frowning, his gaze jumping from the white-hats to Briar, and finally he shook his head in frustration. "The kid is fine.

Crisa isn't. I think it's pretty easy to figure out where our first priority has to be."

"But we just got our first real clue as to where Gregor is-" Ilyana stopped herself, blinked, and started over. "How do you know he's fine?"

Jack held her eyes. "I saw him from time to time when I was with Gregor. You must have, too, Briar," he added with a look her way.

"I didn't know who the hell he was. Gregor kept him pretty much away from the rest of us."

"He's treated well, Ilyana. He's cared for, fed, kept healthy, never physically abused." Jack nodded. "He'll be fine. Crisa might not be, if we don't find her soon."

"We have a lead on Gregor's whereabouts," Ilyana argued. "If we wait, he'll move on. We may lose our only chance." She shook her head firmly. "No, you all go after Crisa if you want. I'm going to find my son."

"What she said," Briar snapped. "You can go after her kid if you want, but I'm going after Crisa. And unlike the mortal here, I don't fucking need anybody's help."

"Wait, wait, just calm down for a minute, both of you." Reaper looked from one to the other, shaking his head. "Roxy, tell us what you found on the Internet. The short version."

"A houseful of bodies, drained of blood, every item of value taken, no effort made to conceal the crime."

In spite of herself, Briar asked, "Where?"

"Fresno, Salt Lake City, Dallas and Oklahoma City."

Briar frowned. "I don't-"

"The same crime, committed in all four places, overnight. Bodies found this morning, The ones in Dallas were found before sunrise, and the initial reports include puncture wounds in the throats of the corpses, though later medical exams say there were no such wounds."

"They would vanish with the first touch of sunlight," Seth muttered.

"All right. All right." Reaper paced away, then back again. "We can't let Gregor slip away with an innocent child. Nor can we ignore the fact that Crisa, who's our charge, for all intents and purposes, and every bit as much an innocent child as...as..." He sent Ilyana a questioning look.

"Matthias. I call him Matt," she said.

"As innocent as Matt, is in danger." He narrowed his eyes. "Gregor couldn't have done all those raids at once. There's something off here."

"We need to split up," Seth said. "Much as I hate to say it, I think it's the only way."

Jack nodded at the younger man. "I agree. We need to check out all four crime scenes and search for Crisa. And there's no earthly reason to argue about what to do first, when there are enough of us to do it all at once."

Reaper nodded and looked at the others. "Everyone agree on that?"

They all nodded. Ilyana said, "Great. Roxy and I will-"

"You two make a great team, Ilyana, but I don't like your chances against Gregor on your own. You're mortals, both of you,. I want vampires on every team, just to be safe."

"I'll go with them," Mirabella said.

"Good. You three will be the back-up team, in case anyone gets into trouble." When he sensed that Ilyana was about to object, he added, "You'll also be ready to go once we do find Gregor. Seth and Vixen, head to Oklahoma City. Topaz and Jack, you take Dallas. Once you check out those two crime scenes, you can decide where to go from there. Report in as you go. Don't take too much time, and don't be seen. This is not an assault on Gregor. If you find him, you stay low, do some recon and call it in. No one moves on him until we're all together. I don't want your bodies to be the next ones found lying bloodless in some death house."

He eyed them, and saw and sensed that they all agreed-except for Ilyana. There was defiance in her eyes. Roxy met his gaze, though, and said, "I'll see to it."

"Good. Go then, get on it. While you're doing that, Briar and I will track Crisa down." He turned to Briar, took her arm and led her from the room, ignoring the stunned way she stared at him.

When they reached the stairs and he started up them, she whispered, "Why?"

"We need to put on some more practical clothes, toss a few supplies in a bag in case we're gone longer than we anticipate, pack up some first-aid gear in case she's hurt. It'll only take a few minutes, and then we're out of here, I promise."

She shook her head. "No. I meant, why are you coming with me instead of going after Gregor? He's your mission. Not Crisa.

Not me."

He glanced at her, then shook his head. "I'd do the same if any one of the others had gone missing."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"Well, you should be, because I would. I never asked to feel responsible for this band of misfits, but I feel it anyway. I have to think there's a reason I ended up with a litter of pups to ride herd on, but I'm damned if I can figure out what it is." He stopped outside her bedroom. "Grab what you think you'll need. And don't forget to bring a tranq gun and plenty of darts in case..." He didn't finish, but he didn't have to. Briar had to know damn well what he meant: In case someone uttered his trigger word and sent him into a frenzy of violence.

"You were hired to find Gregor," she said.

"And I will. Hell, it's not like I'm going to run out of time, Briar. He and I are both immortal." He tried to inject a little lightness into his tone, because she seemed more tense and more worried than he'd ever seen her.

More vulnerable, too. He'd never thought of her that way, not once since he'd known her. But he saw it now. It was clear to him that if anything happened to Crisa, a girl she pretended to tolerate, and that only barely, she would be devastated. It was a weakness she would hate like hell to admit, but he was pretty sure she knew he could see it. And undoubtedly resented him for it.

"I'll meet you out back in ten minutes," he told her.

She nodded, stared at him for one more moment, then shook herself and went into her room, closing the door behind her.

He was an idiot, Reaper told himself as he walked down the hall to his own room. She wouldn't appreciate his help. He was a little bit shocked she was even accepting it, but he knew that was more about Crisa than about herself. She cared about that kid.

The knowledge made him feel a bit lighter, though he had no idea why.

Crisa just walked. Her head hurt, but she ignored it. Her belly was painfully empty, and that made the pain in her head seem worse, but she didn't have time to eat. She just kept on walking. She had to find him. She had to find the boy.

And there was something else. That voice in her head.

It had changed, that voice. This evening, when it had woken her from her deep, deep sleep, it hadn't been the same as the voice she'd been hearing before. This voice was deeper, with a gruffness to it, and a coldness she hadn't felt before. But it seemed to come from the very same spot inside her head, and it reverberated and seemed to echo, just as the other voice had. It hurt, when the voice came. But it hurt a lot more when she tried to ignore it.

"I want you to come to me," the voice said. "I want you to come to me, and I want you to bring Reaper and Briar with you. No one else. Just those two. That's your job, Crisa, and I will not let you rest until you've done it. So get busy."

"Who are you?" she whispered. "You're different. I don't know you."

"I'm your lord and master, Crisa. You do what I say, or I'll punish you."

"I can't." The words came weakly. It was exhausting, hearing this voice, trying to communicate with it when speaking aloud didn't really work. She had to think her replies, and really focus when she did so. But she couldn't do that in silence, so she spoke them aloud, as well.

"You can and you will," he said.

"No. You can punish me if you want, but I can't. I have to go to him."

"You dare defy me? Do you have any idea how much I can make you suffer? How efficiently I could take your life, Crisa?"

"I have to go to him," she repeated. Because nothing else mattered.

"To whom?" the voice demanded. It was filled with impatience and anger, and those emotions shook Crisa. They scared her.

"The boy. He-he needs me."

"The boy. Ah, yes, I've seen the boy. Do you know his name?"

"No."

"Well, I do. His name is Matthias."

She blinked, feeling with everything in her that this was true. Matthias. No. Matt. "His name is Matt," she corrected.

"I think I know his name a bit better than you do, Crisa. But fine, call him Matt, if you want to. It makes no difference. Do you know where he is?"

She blinked and tried to translate her feelings, the compass inside her that kept turning her toward him as she trudged through forests and over roads and across fields. "North," she said. "He's north."

"He's with me," the voice said.

And for the first time since she'd leapt from her bedroom window, Crisa stopped walking. She stood very still. "You...you're real?"

"Of course I'm real. What did you think I was, part of your imagination?"

She breathed. In. Out. In. Out. Inout, inout, inout. She was agitated. It hurt more now. Her head pulsed in time with her increasing respirations. "So many things are," she said. "That's what Rey-Rey used to tell me. That so many things were just my imagination. That he had to tell me what was real and what wasn't. But now he's not here to tell me. There's only Briar, but she's kind of mean to me, and-"

"Yes, yes, that's all very interesting. But let's get back to the subject at hand, Crisa. You want the boy. You are determined to get to the boy. I have the boy. And unless you do as I tell you, I'll hurt the boy. Do you understand me?"

"No! No, don't hurt him. Don't hurt him. Don't-"

"Shut up!"

Crisa's hands flew to her ears, as she dropped to her knees on the forest floor. She screamed aloud, tears springing to her eyes at the power of the shout inside her mind. It was deafening and painful.

And as the echoes slowly died and she pried her eyes open again, she sought the source, carefully, like poking at a sore spot.

She found it, inside her, and she whispered, "Please don't shout anymore. I'll do whatever you say. Just don't hurt the boy."

"Good. Now get Briar and Reaper, and bring them to me."

"I will," she promised.

And then he withdrew. She sensed him pulling out of her mind, and she wished she knew how to close the door tightly enough to keep him out. She knew how to block her thoughts. Roxy had taught her. But for some reason, those techniques didn't work against this invader.

She believed him when he said he had the boy.

She also knew he would hurt her, or hurt Matt, if he said he would.

She knew more than that now, though. She knew he was evil. His energy reeked of it. And she knew he was a vampire. Not the more-or-less gentle soul who'd spoken to her in this same unusual way before. That man had been mortal. She hadn't been afraid of him.

This man was dark, powerful and dangerous. And Crisa was very afraid of him.

But she wasn't going to do what he told her. She would pretend to. She would promise to. But she wouldn't do it. She wouldn't bring Reaper and Briar with her. And there were several reasons for that dancing around in her brain.

First and foremost, going back for them would mean losing time, and she was compelled to keep moving forward, ever forward, ever closer to the boy. She couldn't go back. Literally. She was convinced that even if she tried to turn and walk in the other direction, her feet would not obey. They insisted, as did her entire body and her mind, on moving north. She was having trouble even getting her limbs to cooperate when she came to a barrier in her path and had to veer around it. And that made no sense. It was as if her body had a mind of its own. As if she were being steered by some outside force.

Her second reason for not going back to get Briar and Reaper was because she knew they would try to keep her from leaving again. They might try to stop her from going to the boy. To Matt.

And her third reason was that she had sensed something in the evil vampire's voice and in his essence when he'd said their names inside her head. He wanted to hurt them. He wanted it so badly he couldn't even keep her from sensing it. He wanted to kill them. Make them go away forever, like Rey-Rey.

"I can't let him do that," she whispered as she continued lumbering onward. "I love them. So I can't let him do that."

And so she walked on to the north, and she kept her mind blocked to keep her friends from finding her, wondering why she could keep Briar out but not this intruder.

When she came to a river and decided to turn east in search of a bridge, every step got harder. It felt as if there were a giant rubber band wrapped around her, pulling her toward the boy, and every step away stretched it farther. Every step made it pull back harder, until she couldn't bear to put one foot in front of the other again. She turned, and the moment she faced north again, the resistance vanished.

So she walked into the river, and it got deeper and deeper. And she kept walking. Water rose up to her waist, then to her breasts, then to her neck, and still she moved on. The current tried to sweep her westward, but she felt that resistance again, holding her to her course in spite of the current. And she began to swim when she could no longer walk, and the power that pulled her helped her make it across.

Soon her tired feet dragged the bottom, and she planted them and walked, and the water level dropped as she moved, to her breasts, to her hips, to her knees. She sloshed out of the water, up onto the shore and onward.

Ever onward, toward the boy.