Dark Storm (Dark #23)(96)
Author: Christine Feehan

After seeing Dax’s memories, those terrible images in his head about Katalina and her unborn child as well as Juliette’s friend and her unborn child, and feeling unable to comfort him, she was determined to do this for him. She would lead him to Mitro, and he would destroy the vampire once and for all. I’m counting on you, Old One. She whispered it in her mind like a mantra. To keep him safe for me.

She let the two hunters go through the examining rooms and even back to Dr. Silva’s office. She headed for the reception desk and the files. Whoever chose the victims for Mitro had to have access to the medical records-and she was banking on whoever filed them. Mitro would want to know which women were jaguar, where they lived and everything else about them. Their records would have each patient’s address. And whoever was doing the filing was touching each and every record and leaving that tiny invisible trace behind.

Her mother and grandmother and all the women who had held gifts before her had given those gifts to her for one purpose. This was her moment, her time. She was the one who had to point the hunters in the direction of the prey.

At first, as she casually opened drawers and touched each file, she felt nothing at all-and she should have, right? She took a deep breath and let it out, stilling her mind, reaching not only with the gifts the earth had given her, but also with the enhanced senses her blood exchanges with Dax had given her. Still, nothing.

She stood for a moment looking up and down the stacks of files, the endless shelves of them and the cabinet set near the doctor’s office. This had to be the right place. She knew she was right. What was she really looking for? Not the clerk. The shadow. The one directing the clerk. The slice of a shadow would be inside that human puppet, and Arabejila had left her one more priceless gift-her bloodline. Her blood called to Mitro’s. If there was a sliver, even a small shadow in the clerk and Mitro had put it there, her blood would know.

The idea of any connection to him was so repugnant she actually stood there for a moment with her stomach twisting into knots. Riley set her shoulders and closed her eyes briefly before she reached out and touched the chart on top of the stack waiting to be put away. Her veins pulsed. Throbbed. There it was, the tiniest of threads, but she could track it now that she had it. It was so faint, barely there, but her blood knew him. He couldn’t hide from her.

Elation swept through her. "I’ve got him, Dax. I can find him now. Or at least the one who can lead you to him."

Dax and Riordan joined her immediately. Dax put his arm around her and swept her close. He leaned down to brush a comforting kiss on her forehead. "I knew you’d find him."

"The touch is feminine to me," Riley corrected. "I have no idea who it is, though, but I think I can follow the trail."

Even with Dax standing close, she felt the throbbing in her veins, a drumbeat that lingered in the touch of the clerk. Riley turned and walked past the doctor’s office to the back door. "She goes this way to leave."

"Let’s go find her," Riordan said. "I’d like to know where she lives."

"If Riley has correctly identified this clerk as the puppet, you have to know that means Mitro is directing her in every one of her actions," Dax pointed out. "She’ll be as dangerous as any one of his ghouls." He stated the caution aloud, wanting Riley to understand they weren’t dealing with a person anymore. Whoever she had been was long gone. She belonged to Mitro now.

"Keep in mind always," Riordan added, "that this person is responsible for the deaths of at least six babies and their mothers."

Riley moistened her lips. She knew what they were doing-preparing her should they find the woman and have to destroy her. They didn’t want her to feel guilty. She’d seen what Mitro had turned villagers into-she really didn’t need the warning-but she appreciated it all the same. She knew both men were looking out for her, and that was a comfort.

Dax and Riordan dropped back to allow her to take the lead. Dax scanned outside the clinic and deeming it safe, waved his hand to open the back door. Riley found the spot where the woman kept her small scooter. It was still early enough that there were people on the street. Dax caught Riley’s shoulder to halt her, taking another long look around.

"You catch anything?" he asked Riordan.

Riordan shook his head. "I don’t feel any danger. I think she’s safe, and we’ll both protect her. I’ll keep everyone from seeing us. Let her track the undead’s puppet."

"Are you up for this?" Dax asked. "You don’t have to."

"I do," she corrected. "We’re going to stop him and this is the first step."

Dax took to the air, holding Riley in front of him, Riordan flanking them, ensuring they were shielded from the evening crowd.

"To the right. Stay to the right." Riley couldn’t be caught up in the beauty of the night, or flying. Holding on to that weak link between her blood and that almost nonexistent trace of Mitro was difficult and took every ounce of concentration and discipline she’d developed over the years.

The scooter had turned off the street to follow a narrow alley, through a parking garage and then down through another series of alleys, two so narrow they were more like footpaths between buildings. The buildings seemed old and worn, paint peeling, windows broken. Garbage cluttered the ground and the elderly, mentally ill and addicts shuffled along the alleys or lay under cardboard tents. Prostitutes trolled the corners of every block, some sporting black eyes and most looking hopeless. This part of the city was scarred and ugly, a hidden underbelly beneath the dazzling lights.

There was a short stop at a small store. And then the faint trail was back, the clerk making her way through a maze of back alleys until she came to what looked like an abandoned factory. The high chain-link fence was damaged in multiple areas and the scooter slipped through one of the many tears. The fence was held back with large barrels, just enough for a person or a small vehicle such as a scooter to slip through.

Dax scanned the building. "There are several men and women here."

"Underground," Riordan added. "This seems to be their residence."

"They’re making their way out here to the parking lot," Dax added. "Riley, we’ll keep them from seeing you. Can you pick her out of a crowd?"

"We’ll see. I think so. In any case, we have to follow them just in case she leads us to someone else. She might be one link in a long chain," Riley said.

"Maybe," Dax said, "but given Mitro’s personality, if this woman can function in the world working as a clerk, she’s probably one of those closest to him. He wants worshippers. He needs a few priests and priestesses. He’ll want them to go out and collect others. If he deems them worthy, he’ll keep them as followers, otherwise, he’ll sacrifice them, and each time he does, he’ll make certain his flock is watching him."