Kindling The Darkness. Jane Kindred

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       Chapter 5

      Lucy was gone in the morning. Oliver hoped to God she’d gotten some sleep. His sleep, on the other hand, hadn’t been good. He couldn’t get her off his mind. For an instant last night, when he’d caught her from falling, she’d looked at him with what he could have sworn was naked desire. It had shocked him. And the next instant, the look had been gone, leaving him wondering if he’d imagined it.

      He worried the ring on his right hand with his thumb. Vanessa’s ring. She’d been gone for more than five years, but he still couldn’t take it off. Transferring it from the left hand to the right was the most he’d been able to do. It reminded him not only of his loss but also of his part in it. He was responsible for Vanessa’s death.

      Oliver imagined what she’d say to him. You can’t take credit for the failures and ignore the successes. But the raid that day had been more than a failure. Darkrock had no business going into an unsecured nest without doing the proper reconnaissance first. And Oliver had gotten cocky, imagining that despite the disadvantage of not knowing how many vampires were holed up in the meth lab or how organized the vamps were, he had what it took to handle whatever they found. Darkrock had sent him, so Oliver had gone.

      Vanessa had been his partner, in life and on his Darkrock team. Their team was first, positioned in a side alley near the den, and Oliver and Vanessa had scaled the fence into the weeds and garbage. Oliver had kicked in the back door while the other members of the team made a frontal assault. They’d expected a handful of meth addicts sharing needles and sharing each other’s depleted blood. They’d expected any vampires, at least, to be sluggish with the daytime hour. What they hadn’t expected was an ambush.

      A very sophisticated operation had been overseeing the nest—a nest of donors, not vamps. They’d fed Darkrock an anonymous tip about the place, one that seemed reasonable on its face. It was a known hangout for meth heads, and meth heads were often mixed up in the trafficking of blood. Because of that symbiotic relationship between addicts and vampires, a house full of addicts often ended up breeding a house full of low-rent, weak vamps. And those that remained donors had only a short shelf life, so the siring vamps would move on once the supply dwindled.

      When Oliver and Vanessa and the rest of the team had busted into the house, they’d expected to round up the victims and vamps with little resistance. Instead, they’d been set upon by very healthy, bloodthirsty vampire lords. One of them had Vanessa before Oliver even knew what had hit them, and the rest of the team was dead. The vampire lord holding Vanessa had smiled at Oliver, reading his mind, knowing what Vanessa was to him, before taking a drink.

      Oliver slammed his fist down on the counter, jarring the coffee cups. He didn’t need to go down that road again. That was a dead end. In more ways than one. As he got the coffee started for the morning, his phone vibrated on the counter beside him, skittering across the slick shellac. He was on call for the Jerome Volunteer Fire Department this week, and they were calling him in.

      After shutting down and locking up, he headed over to the firehouse, expecting some cat in a tree or a kitchen fire at the burger place, but a two-alarm fire was in progress at the newly built storage facility off State Route 89A on the road down the mountain toward Verde Valley. Oliver’s crew was assigned to search and rescue while the first crew fought the blaze. The storage units were brick and metal, but the summer had been dry, and maintenance hadn’t been kept up to clear weeds and brush from around the facilities. And some clever asshole had thought treated wood-shingle roofing would be a good idea for a storage facility on a mountainside. In a town that had burned down more than once.

      Since most of the units were locked up, scanning for occupants was simple enough, but after calling in the all clear on his section, Oliver caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He thought at first that he’d seen a coyote or a stray dog, but it had withdrawn into the shadows among the trash bins at the back of the rear units where the yard ended in a high cement fence. An animal might have been skittish around humans, but animals weren’t generally good at hiding—particularly when they were trapped near fire.

      “Hey,” he called. “Anybody back there?”

      Silence answered, but there was movement behind the bins.

      Oliver moved closer cautiously. If it was a trapped animal, it could be dangerous. And if it was a person, it could be an arsonist. Why else would someone hide nearby during a blaze? He switched on the flashlight on his shoulder strap as he stepped around the industrial bin, illuminating the dark corner. Huddled beside the bin, a wide-eyed, sandy-haired youth stared up into the beam of his light, frozen in terror.

      Instinctively, Oliver knew the boy was “family.” It was the term he used in his head for Jerome’s not-quite-human residents. And just as instinctively, he knew better than to call this in. No one helpful was looking for СКАЧАТЬ