Shadow Rising

“Might as well. It’ll be interesting, if nothing else.”



Drake’s lips quirked. “Yes, when you find the mark, you can make him answer all your burning questions about Grigori women.” He picked up a slim folder in front of him and handed it to Damien. Curious, Damien opened it and skimmed the single sheet of paper within. Clipped to it was a 4 x 5 photograph of three humans smiling in a crowd. Behind them, circled in white in case the person looking at the photo was blind, was a white-haired giant making his way through the sea of people. The Grigori in the shot was only in profile, but Damien figured he’d be easy enough to recognize—it wasn’t as though one ran across these oddities of the vampire world all the time.



Damien looked up and met Drake’s inscrutable gaze. “This isn’t much to go on. The leadership wants this Sammael found, but they don’t want it known they’re looking for him. They don’t want me to touch him, if possible. I’m to call them the instant he’s discovered, and they suggest”—he paused, rechecking the instructions—“some very interesting methods of restraining him should I need to. This is going to take a little shopping to find these materials, but beyond that, this looks like average bounty hunter type work.”



“Despite the odd customers, it is,” Drake replied. “Except that the information we’ll get out of this is worth a great deal. Look, we already know what it takes to shut one of these giants down. And I have a feeling there’s a lot more. This is only cut- and-dried on the surface.”



Damien nodded. “Obviously. They wouldn’t have come to us otherwise. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.” He grinned. “And I’ll hope like hell I don’t have to go head-to-head with this Sammael. I’d rather not give him a chance to crush me—you know the stories about what they can do.”



“After seeing the one who walked in here asking about the contract, I believe those stories,” Drake said. “It’s one thing to see a Grigori from a distance. But gods, they’re big bastards close up. Never smile either. This one had eyes like a serial killer, except that they were purple.”



“Oh, you’d hire one in a heartbeat if you could find one desperate enough to come to you,” Damien scoffed, and Drake chuckled.



“Damn right I would. He wouldn’t even have to sneak around to get the job done. Who’s going to say no to a vamp who looks like he might rip your limbs off for fun?”



“So speaking of bounty hunting,” Damien said, turning the subject to one of his favorite matters, “what is the bounty? And more importantly, what’s my cut?”



Drake’s eyes lit up. This was, Damien knew, one of his favorite subjects as well. It was one of the reasons the two of them got on fairly well, despite some glaring personality differences.



“Oh, you’ll like this. If you succeed, you get something of your very own. And before you start gloating, I get one just like it, only a bit bigger. He left both here… for incentive.” Drake leaned over to remove something from a desk drawer, and then deposited a diamond the size of a Grigori’s fist in the middle of the desk.



Damien’s eyes widened. “Holy hell. They do want this done right.”



“Have a look,” Drake said. “But drop it on the floor and I’ll kick your head in.”



Gingerly, Damien picked up the polished and cut diamond, feeling the weight of it. Every facet danced with light, as the stone was as clear as water. It was a moment before Damien realized that its light was coming from within it, and that it was casting rippling patterns on the walls and ceiling as though it were actually made of water.



“What is this thing?”



“This Titus tells me it’s a piece of something called the Star of Atlantis.”



Damien’s eyebrows lifted. He’d heard and seen plenty of stranger things, but jewels from lost cities weren’t an area of his expertise. “Oh? And you believe it?”



“A diamond’s a diamond.” Drake shrugged. “They can name it whatever they want. But as you can see, it’s not exactly a regular diamond. You know what something like this is worth normally—hell of a lot more with that extra something thrown in.”



Damien looked into the stone, watching the light dance. He felt a strange sense of calm steal over him, a soothing sensation of floating, drifting. For a moment, all the trappings of his life were revealed as meaningless and were replaced with the simple truth, the incredible beauty, of lights in the water.



He had to have it.



“Is there anything else I need to know? I’d like to get started.”



Drake held out his hand, a knowing smile on his face, and Damien reluctantly parted with the stone. He watched it, feeling a tug of longing as it vanished back into its drawer. Peace, contentment—two things he had longed for in his heart of hearts for many years before giving up on ever finding them. And yet it seemed that they could come from something so simple, so extravagant, as an ancient bit of stone. Who knew?



Damien shifted uncomfortably, trying to push aside this new hunger. He didn’t like to want things too much. Whenever he’d really wanted something, it had gone to shit in a hurry. It was how he’d ended up a vampire in the first place.



“You’ll find a list of places to search on the sheet,” Drake said, “as well as some potential contacts. Titus felt you would be more successful at getting information out of these individuals than any of them would.”



Surprise flooded him, another emotion he wasn’t used to feeling. “He actually asked for me?”



Drake nodded. “Specifically. I did warn him you were an awful pain in the ass, but he insisted. They do seem to keep their eyes on things.”



“Watchers,” Damien said, his lip curling even though his vanity was pleasantly flattered. “Some call them that. It’s creepy, Drake. I mean it.”



“Yeah, well, they’re rich and creepy. We deal with plenty of that, and more. You’ll manage. Now go on, I know it’ll take you hours to pack.”



Damien smirked, gave a little bow. “At your service, as always, my lord.”



Drake rolled his eyes. “Spare me the noble rogue routine, Damien. I’ll bet most of your ancestors were beheaded by the rabble, if they were anything like you.”



“Maybe a few,” Damien replied, then turned to go. Drake knew him too well. It really was going to take him hours to pack. He liked to be prepared for any eventuality, and a love of dressing well had always been one of his weaknesses. Hadn’t his father railed at him for running up ridiculous debts at the tailor’s? And at the club, of course. And at a number of other places around town. But when one was the “spare” bit of the old adage “heir and a spare,” Damien had always figured one might as well be pretty and useless, rather than just useless. He had been utterly debauched, but in style.



And that was a long time ago, Damien thought, his smile fading as his hand closed around the doorknob. He was heir to as little now as he had been then. The Lord of Nothing. And he continued to behave accordingly. Damien grimaced at the sudden shift in mood. He really shouldn’t drink; it always made him maudlin.



“Oh, one more thing,” Drake said, prompting Damien to pause and look back at his employer. “I can’t believe I nearly forgot, considering. There was something about a woman.”



Damien did his best leer. “Oh? Do tell.”



Drake laughed. “Nothing very promising, I’m afraid, but information you should have. Titus indicated that you may run across one of their women who has taken it upon herself to look for this Sammael personally.”



“Huh. I didn’t think the Grigori simply took it upon themselves to do anything.”



“Yeah, well, he didn’t sound happy about it. If you should meet her, he insists that you not help her, and that you let me know where you’ve sighted her. I’ll relay the information.”



“At which point things will end badly for the Grigori revolutionary,” Damien said. “Got it. Hopefully I’ll be able to tell her apart from a male Grigori. If I can, we’re golden. I don’t work well with others anyway.”



“Don’t I know it.” Drake waved him off, his attention returning to the piles of work before him, folders full of jobs, dossiers on his own men and women. “Go on. Make nefarious plans. Agonize over wardrobe choices. Whatever you do to get ready. And keep me posted this time, damn it.”



“Don’t I always?”



“No.”



Damien tossed an arrogant wave over one shoulder and let himself out, happy to leave Drake to the tedium of paperwork. The adrenaline had begun to flow again, provoked by the promise of a new adventure. For all that had happened in his life—in both of his lives—he’d never quite lost the simple joy of the hunt. And if there was the potential for feminine distraction? Even better, though he seriously doubted this Grigori interloper would interest him. Still, pure curiosity had him anticipating meeting her… and besting her.



Yes, Damien thought with a predatory smile, it was high time he got back to work.



Chapter Three



SHE HAD BEEN in the world a month.



It was hard to believe sometimes, Ariane thought as she scanned the dimly lit club, searching for a familiar face and sipping at her chocolate martini. There were nights when this all still seemed like a dream. And then there were other nights, like tonight, when it was her old life that was hard to believe in. Out here, everything was busy, bright, vibrant… alive. It made the Grigori compound seem dead and airless by comparison.



Pity, then, that this world she was so fascinated by continued to be so hard for her to live in. But she would keep trying. And at some point, hopefully soon, she would be able to stop second-guessing her every step, action, word. She would belong here. Because even if she found Sam, Ariane already knew she was never going back.



Conversation ebbed and flowed around her, and thankfully no one seemed very interested in the small, dark-haired woman perched on a stool at the bar. She reached up to surreptitiously adjust her wig, which was itchy and sweaty and completely uncomfortable. It was also necessary. Ariane had a fleeting and wonderful vision of taking it off later and giving her poor head a good scratch. She’d known her coloring and looks were unusual. What she hadn’t realized was that in the human world, her idea of “unusual” was actually “unheard of.” She didn’t blend in. Not even among vampires, who she’d quickly realized didn’t exactly welcome her presence. Was it because her bloodline kept so much to themselves? Were they considered snobs? Ariane had no idea, and no one else seemed inclined to tell her. They were too busy giving her a wide berth. It was just another reason to be appalled at how isolated she’d been. And after a month away from home, she had found plenty of reasons. She wanted to drink in everything, experience everything. But so far, most of what she’d done was simply watch. Even the vampires were full of a life and emotion that was far beyond anything she’d experienced in her long years in the desert.