"You didn't tell me it was like that,” he whispered. Rage washed out of him in waves. No fear, just prickly anger.
I rocked back on my heels, rubbing my arms against the sensation. “Like what?"
"He looked like...” His hands balled into fists, and he paced across the alley.
Each of his footsteps echoed loud in my head, stomped down my spine. He looked like what? I glanced at Nathanial. He'd snapped out of his daze, but his pale skin was slightly flushed, his lips parted. He watched me with warm, grey eyes, and for half-a-heartbeat I thought he would reach for me, but he crossed his arms behind his back, trapped them against the wall.
I looked back at Bobby.
"He reacted like you two were mating,” he whispered. “Is it always like that?"
Heat rushed to my cheeks. All and all, that had probably been rather tame for taking blood. Nothing compared to what I'd seen Jezebel do, or even as intimate as I'd done to Evan. I wanted to tell him No, but the true answer was Yes, and sometimes it was worse, or maybe better, depending on your perspective. For some psychotic reason it felt really, really, good when a vampire bit you. Finally I didn't answer at all, and maybe that was answer enough, because Bobby looked away from me.
"Kita,” Nathanial began. “The man with Candice."
I nodded and forced myself to mentally replay the memory.
I'd drunk too much. My head felt heavy. A guy had been buying me drinks, too many of them.
He wasn't my type. His hair was shaved, only fuzz covered his scalp and he had an awful goatee, but nice body. Ripped. He was funny.
It was late. My eyes were heavy. My stomach burned. I stumbled on the stairs. Yes, a ride home would be good. The room spun. He helped me into a car.
Where was I? Everything was fuzzy, unconnected. I struggled as a hand reached out. My arm snapped. Pain shot through me, made me gag. But no, I couldn't gag, cloth was in my mouth. Tears burned my raw eyes. I'd been crying a long time. New pain ripped along my thigh, like being flayed.
A face in front of me wasn't human. I screamed into the gag. Fur, I felt fur, and it confused me.
No, it confused Candice. I understood the fur quite well. I resurfaced from her memory, shaking. I sank into the snow, phantom pain shooting through my body. The memory swept over me again.
I begged her to fight, but the me, the memory, that was Candice couldn't. I lay powerless. Drugged. Bound.
I shook my head, pushing away the memories. It wasn't me. I could still fight. I would still fight. I would find the rogue. But who was he?
"I don't recognize the face.” My voice trembled. Had I made the alley stink of fear?
Bobby was beside me, his face drawn with worry.
"Try again.” Nathanial crouched on my other side. “I know I caught a glimpse of him in your memories. You were in a crowded room. It was dark, noisy. I remember you were uncomfortable, and there was something about his breath you found offensive."
Sharing memories was unnerving, and that he recalled mine with greater skill than I did irritated me, but I tried to think back. I had to have seen him in the city, and obviously before I met Nathanial. Staring at my fingers, I ran Candice's memory through my mind again. It was a little fuzzier than the first time, with a couple of things happening in a slightly different sequence. The man was talking to someone before he'd approached her, but Candice hadn't been paying attention, and I couldn't pull up any thoughts or descriptions of the other person.
I was alone at the table when he brought me a drink. Don't take it. I accepted. He slid off his leather jacket. Nice tattoo ... but damaged. The huge dragon with its tail wrapping around the guy's wrist had three white scars bisecting it.
I pushed Candice's memories away. Suddenly sick.
That dragon I recognized. The last time I'd seen it, my claws were ripping through it. Five guys had attacked me. I defended myself.
It was the first time my claws had extended.
I swallowed hard. This—all of this—really was my fault. I stared at nothing in space, my stomach twisting into a numb knot. No Clanless stray to blame.
The rogue was my mistake.
Candice made, what? Thirteen victims? The weight of that number pressed down on me. Hot tears threatened to cloud my vision. I blinked them back.
Focus. I needed to focus. I pushed out of the snow.
The attack couldn't have been the memory Nathanial recalled. He'd said I'd seen the man recently. Nathanial found me just after the rave. I tried to remember everyone I'd seen inside the party, but most of them dissolved into a blur. The man in Candice's memory definitely wasn't the man I talked to, and he didn't look like anyone who had asked me to dance. Suddenly it hit me, he had been wearing a hat, and he'd offered to sell me some sort of drugs. Damn it. That didn't tell me anything else about him. He went to raves—knew that already. He sold drugs, which made drugging victims a very short leap of logic.
I had his face. I had his scent. And I still didn't know a damn thing about him. My nails bit half moons into my palms as I related this to Nathanial and Bobby. Their faces fell. It wasn't good news. It wasn't helpful.
"So what now?” Bobby asked.
"I told you about the trail I stumbled over earlier? The storm has probably covered it by now, but it might be the only lead we have left."
Nathanial led us to the subway. When we exited the train, we were back in the tenements. The snowstorm had abated, and a grim silence hovered around us as we made our way to the side street where I'd caught the city-shifter's scent earlier. The rundown buildings we passed all looked alike to me, and I hadn't seen street signs earlier, so I had to trust Nathanial that this was the spot I'd picked up the scent. Now there was no trace of it.
Mostly the street smelled of the small fires that several slumped figures were huddled around and the overflowing dumpster hugging the wall of the building to our right. Bobby and I both searched, but neither of us could pick up a trail to follow. It occurred to me as we doggedly walked and rewalked the street that Bobby might not know what he was searching for. I knew from Evan's memories that new hunters spent several months shadowing experienced ones to learn about the human world and how to identify a city-shifter, but Bobby had become a hunter specifically to find me. If he couldn't recognize the trail if he tripped over it, then it was up to me to find it, but my nose wasn't half as good as it had been earlier, and I was fighting several hours of snow. I stopped in front of the huge metal dumpster and slammed my fist into it.
"Damn, damn, damn!” I shouted each word louder and hit the dumpster as hard and fast as I could. With the final ‘damn,’ my fist burst through the rusting metal, and the jagged edges tore a gash across my hand. I stared at the blood in shock, but lifted my fist to swing again. Nathanial caught my arm before the blow landed.
"Please do say ‘Damn,’ again, Kita. I think it is helping."
Despite his harsh words, his fingers were gentle as they examined my wound. He lifted my hand to his mouth, and I felt his tongue slide into the gash. I tried to jerk away, but he held me firm. Never waste blood, he'd told me, and clearly he didn't plan to. I wanted to scream, or hit something, or cry. I'd already done the first two, and they hadn't helped. I doubted the last would either—it never had before.
When Nathanial released my hand, I marveled at the healing pink edges around the wound. Bobby hovered around my back, and I turned so that I could speak to both of them without the homeless at the top of the street overhearing. The bums were already staring after my violent outburst.
"I'm out of plans; we're almost out of time, so please tell me one of you has some brilliant idea. I am willing to do anything at this point."
Bobby leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes, and his head hung low, weighted. Even Nathanial's face was drawn. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Several strands of dark hair had escaped his hair tie. They hung limp, defeated, around his shoulders.
No, giving up wasn't an option. I'd worked too hard and put up with too much over the last few nights to quit now. I didn't want to die, but more than that, I didn't want to be responsible for Bobby's or okay, Nathanial's death. Whatever awaited me in the afterlife, I didn't want to carry their deaths with me. I was already carrying too many deaths.
Candice's terror flashed through me again. Eleven victims dead. Two more in ICU. I had to find the rogue. I had to stop him. I had—an idea.
"The guy I was talking to at the rave, Bryant something. The rogue spoke to him, called him by name. They acted like they knew each other,” I said. “If we can find Bryant, he might know where to find the rogue."
"Do you know where he lives?” Nathanial's frown deepened when I shook my head. “Then I suppose you are hoping he is listed in the phonebook as Bryant Something?"
I crossed my arms over my chest. “You have a better plan?"
"No, that is the problem.” He sighed and slipped his glasses back in place.
Damn it. We knew the city-shifter whose scent had been at two of the crime scenes—no doubt the rogue—had been on this street a handful of hours ago. He could have been anywhere, headed anywhere. He could live close by, or work around here. He could have been headed to the subway, or caught a taxi and be anywhere. He could have been headed to someone's house, or he could even have been trolling bars.
He'd attacked Candice just last night. Would he be looking for another victim again so soon? The attacks had been increasing in frequency.
I marched up to the men huddled around a fire they'd built inside a fifty-gallon can. Their eyes flashed wide at my approach. I looked at each in turn.
"Where are the closest bars?"
They glanced at each other. No one answered.
Finally, a hunched-over man with a bloated red nose pursed his lips. “What's it worth to you?"
My fists clenched, and I looked back at the street intersection. “Nathanial!"
Forty dollars later, we had the name of three bars within the surrounding blocks. The rogue had found Candice at a bar, so there was always a chance...