Tempting Evil (Riley Jenson Guardian #3) - Page 4

There were three of them, all skinny excuses of flesh and bone. The vamp in the middle was the obvious leader – he was two steps ahead of his compatriots, and had one of those perpetual sneers so often found on those who think they're tougher than they truly arc. His two mates were of Asian descent, though the blue eyes on one suggested there was something else in his mix.

"Well, well," the leader said casually, "look at what we got here, boys."

"Breakfast," blue eyes said, expression alight with anticipation.

I slipped off the backpack and placed it in Dia's hands. "You might have to hold this while I tend to this pond scum."

"But – "

I held up a finger, realized what I was doing, then touched her arm lightly, and said, "It's okay."

She fell silent. While these three didn't look particularly old, they were still vampires, and I was going to need every ounce of concentration against them.

"It case you haven't noticed, little girl," the leader said, amusement rich in his harsh, annoying voice, "there's three of us, and only one of you."

"Unfair odds, I agree," I said. "You want me to keep one hand behind my back?"

They glanced at each other, then broke into laughter.

That's when I dropped my shields and hit the minds of the backup vamps, stripping through their meager shields and ordering them to run away, as far and as fast as they could. Their laughter stopped abruptly and their eyes went wide, the whites seeming to gleam brightly in the darkness. Then they turned and retreated into the night.

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Even as they ran, pain lanced through my head, needle sharp and fiery hot. I wasn't entirely sure why, especially given I'd done similar things in the past and hadn't felt a reaction like this. But right then, I didn't have time to worry about it. Even as tears touched my eyes, the air stirred, brushing anger and the force of movement past my nose. I ducked away from the last vamp's fist, letting it skim past my cheek, then dropped and spun, kicking his legs out from underneath him. He grunted as his rump hit the ground, and his look of surprise might have been funny if it wasn't for the murderous expression that almost instantly followed.

He snarled, then scrambled to his feet and launched at me. I dodged, but his fingers caught my arm, his nails needle sharp and tearing into flesh. I yelped and he laughed, a sharp sound that was quickly cut off when my fist slammed into his mouth. He staggered backward, arms flailing, spitting out blood and teeth as he did so. I followed the force of my punch with another, this time chopping into his throat, crushing his larynx and dropping him to the ground. He didn't stay down, but scrambled on all fours toward Dia Jones. Blind or not, she seemed to sense his approach, because she gasped and backed away.

I grabbed his leg and dragged him away from her. He struggled like a madman, his kicks landing heavily on my already bloodied arm and bruising the hell out of my fingers. A growl of fury rumbled up my throat, and without thought, I dropped my shields again and let him have it. His mind fled before mine like a pebble before a landslide, and just as uselessly. Within seconds, I had him still and unmoving.

But, oh God, how it hurt.

I dropped to my knees, and, for too many seconds, did nothing more than try to breathe as the pain in my head intensified, and all I could see were pinpoints of bright lights flashing before my eyes. They eased after a few seconds, but the pain didn't.

Why was this happening? When I'd controlled the two lab-made werecats in Moneisha, there'd been pain, but nothing as intense as this. Even when I'd attacked Quinn, there hadn't been a backlash like this – had there?

I frowned, and remembered the wash of pain that had briefly hit before I'd picked my panties off the floor and stormed into the other room.

Maybe it was a simple matter of being too angry to even notice just how bad the pain actually was.

A hand touched my elbow, helped me to my feet.

"We must go," Dia said. "Before he recovers enough to attack again."

He wasn't going anywhere until I released him, but given the blinding pain, that was probably going to be sooner rather than later. I stumbled along after Dia, guided more by her touch and the sound of her footsteps than my own sight, which was at best blurry, and filled with heated white spots that danced about crazily. A situation that wasn't helped when the control I had on the vamp snapped. The pain of it rebounded through me, as sharp as glass. I gasped, stumbling and almost going down. Dia's grip tightened on my arm, and with almost inhuman strength, she kept me upright and kept me going.

Of course, Dia Jones wasn't exactly human, so inhuman strength wasn't exactly surprising. What I really wanted to know was how the hell she was moving so surely when she couldn't see and hadn't even a cane or a guide animal to help her.

A car loomed through the blurriness ahead. A man in a dark suit opened the rear door of a car that seemed to go on forever, then I was being shoved inside. I crawled across the soft leather, then leaned my head back against the thick seat cushioning and closed my eyes. Doors slammed shut, twin sounds that seemed to reverberate through the silence, through my head, then the car was moving.

Silence reigned for several minutes. I could feel Dia's gaze on me – it was a weight that was at once both curious and cautious – but she didn't touch me. Of that, I was glad. I had a feeling that she might learn far too many secrets if she did so right now.

"Telepathy is new to you, isn't it?" she said eventually.

I opened my eyes. Even though the limo was dark, the glare of the streetlights as we passed them were a brightness that was hard to stand. My eyes watered, and the ache in my head briefly intensified.

"What makes you think I'm telepathic?"

She smiled. "While I am not telepathic myself, I am sensitive to the use of psychic power. Generally, it feels like the caress of a warm summer breeze that swirls across my skin – something I can sense, but never catch." She paused, tilting her head slightly to one side, her amazing blue eyes seeming to follow even my slightest movement. How was that possible? This woman was blind – I was certain of that, if nothing else.

"With you tonight," she continued, "it was not a breeze, but a cyclone. An overuse of power if ever I felt one. Has no one ever taught you control?"

"I shield. I can protect myself. What else is there to know?" And Jack had been coaching me, but I couldn't exactly admit that.

"Power of any kind should be treated similar to an onion. There may be many different layers, but you should only ever strip away as many as you need to get the job done." She smiled as she reached forward and took a small cloth from a compartment under the seat opposite, then handed it to me. "The only time problems generally arise for the trained is when the power is still new, or it increases in strength for some reason."

I wrapped the cloth around my bleeding arm. "How would either of those cause problems?"

She shrugged lightly. "You cannot control something when you do not know its boundaries."

That made sense. But was that what was actually happening? I'd been telepathic most of my life, and the last test done at the Directorate had not indicated any increase in psychic output.

Of course, those tests had been done several months ago. Who knew what the result would be now.

"But psychic strength doesn't alter." At least, it generally didn't with normal people. "You get what you're born with, don't you?"

"Sometimes. But puberty has been known to set off wild changes in psi-skills."

"Puberty? Do I sound like an adolescent to you?"

But even as I said the words, I had a feeling she'd hit the nail on the head. Thanks to the fertility drugs that had been forced into me by past mates, I'd recently begun menstruating for the first time in my life. Which in turn meant I was going through a form of puberty – if puberty was defined solely as going through the change and moving from a child's body to a woman's. Not that anyone would ever accuse me of having a child's body. I'd been D-cup since I was sixteen.

"No, you don't sound adolescent. But that doesn't alter the fact your power seems very uncontrolled. You are extremely lucky you caught those vamps unawares. Lucky, too, that none of them were particularly strong psychics."

"Why's that?" I rubbed a hand across my forehead. The needles were beginning to ease, but my brain still felt like it was on fire. If I didn't get some pain relief tablets soon, I was going to have one doozy of a headache.

"Because by dropping your shields as totally as you did, you left yourself wide open for a counterattack."

"Oh." I hadn't even thought of that. Not when I'd attacked Quinn, and certainly not when I'd attacked those vamps. Quinn might have been too much of a gentleman to attack, but those vamps certainly could have.

She tilted her head on the side again. The brown hair fell to one side, revealing slivers of silver running underneath. She wasn't wearing a wig, because the silver and brown ran into each other. It was almost as if someone had dyed her hair, but only done half a job. Odd, to say the least. "Did your parents not teach you to use your gift?"

I snorted softly. "My mother was a wolf groupie who considered the half-breed she gave birth to little more than an inconvenience to her sex life."

"And your father?"

"She never knew for sure who he was. I certainly don't."

"Sad."

"That's me," I said sarcastically. "A sad and sorry tale."

She smiled again. "Do you have a name?"

"Poppy Burns."

She raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? And what are you doing here in St. Kilda, Poppy Burns?"

Something in the way she said that had uneasiness stirring. I shrugged, and did my best to ignore those damned butterflies. "Looking for work, a place to stay. Usual shit."

"So where did you live before?"

"You're getting awfully nosy, aren't you?"

She shrugged. "Given what you said to me before those vamps showed up, I think I have the right to be nosy."

I sniffed, and didn't reply.

"And given your so bluntly put opinion of me," she continued, "why would you then go on and save me?"

"Who says I was saving you? Those stinkers had me in their sights just as much as you."

"Maybe."

"If we're going to be nosy, then tell me how you can be blind as a bat, and yet can walk around as well as any sighted person?"

She went still, and for a moment I thought I'd blown it.

"How do you know I'm blind?" The warmth that had been in her tones until now was replaced by cold steel, and a chill went down my spine.

It was a timely reminder that this woman – however nice she seemed – was one of the five clones and in league with the man I was trying to bring down.

"Easy. Though your gaze appears to look directly at people, there's no true life in your eyes, no response to the smaller movements people make, and no real response to facial expressions. It's like you can see, but only from a distance, so that up close things aren't clear."

Amusement warmed her expression. "You are very observant."

"You have to be when you live on the streets."

"True." She paused, considering me. "Are you after work now?"

I shrugged. "Depends what it is."

"You will earn more in two weeks than you could in a year of regular work."

"Lady, that sounds a little good to be true. What's the catch?"

"You're being paid to have sex with strangers."

I raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"No 'and.' The resort is owned by my… employer."

Employer? Starr was more than just that. "So you're not just a scamming psychic? You're a pimp, as well?"

She stiffened ever so slightly. "I am not pimping you. I am simply offering you an opportunity to make a lot of money."

"Yeah. By having sex. It's called pimping, whether you like it or not."

I studied her for a moment, wondering how fine a line I should walk between reluctance and acceptance. But given Poppy's supposed history, she wasn't likely to be trusting anyone too quickly.

"This is one of those sex-slave scams they've been talking about in the papers lately, isn't it? You know, lure innocents with the enticement of money, then ship them off to parts unknown, to be held captive and abused. Well, I ain't interested, lady." I banged on the glass partition between us and the driver, wincing as the sound echoed through my head. "Hey, you, stop this crate and let me out."

"I promise, this is no scam."

"Yeah, right."

She reached into her pocket, and drew out a business card. Only it wasn't from the employment agency Jack had mentioned, but one of her own cards. And it was her personal address, as well. "If you are interested in hearing more about the job, come and see me tomorrow."

I looked at her, then the card, and finally reached out to take it. "You never did answer my question, you know. About being blind."

She smiled again. "No. But perhaps I will later, if you accept the job."

"If that's supposed to be an enticement, it ain't working."

"If you want an enticement, then perhaps I can teach you to use your telepathy without dropping all your shields."

The car slid to a stop. I wrapped my fingers around the door handle but didn't open it. "And why would you be offering to do that?"

"Because you need it."

"And do you often run around offering psychic training to those who need it?"

"No." Her gaze came to mine. "Only to those who will save us."

"That's the second time you've said that, and it's no clearer now than it was before."

"I guess it isn't." Her gaze fell away as she leaned back in the seat. "I'll see you tomorrow."

It was a dismissal and a statement of fact, all in one. I frowned, but thrust open the door and climbed out. The night had grown colder in the brief time I'd been in the car, the breeze chill. Goose bumps ran across my skin. Thank God I wasn't actually sleeping on the streets tonight. I slammed the car door shut and watched Dia's black limo disappear into the night.

"So," I said, rubbing my bare arms as I looked around to see where I was. "You heard it all?"

"Yes. And I'm mighty disappointed you didn't tell me about the fluctuations in your telepathy strength."

"It's only just started happening, boss. With everything else that's been going on, it just slipped my mind."

"That's not good enough, Riley. We need to keep a close check on what is going on with your psi-abilities."

"So I'll try and remember to tell you the next time anything strange happens."

"Don't try. Do." He paused. "Why didn't you finish off those vamps?"

"You want them dead, you kill them."

"We have, but that's not the point."

No, the point was he wanted me to kill on order. I might have acknowledged the need to become a guardian – if only internally – but that didn't mean I had to happily dive straight into the killing bit.

"The card she gave me has her personal address, not that employment agency she and Starr have been using as a front." I looked left and right, then crossed the road, heading for the shops on the other side. Coffee and chocolate were in order – they might not actually ease the ache in my head, but they'd at least make me feel a little bit better.

"It's not a front, but a registered agency."

"Has she ever used her house before?"

"Given we've only been following her for six weeks, it's hard to say."

"So she could suspect something?"

"She didn't sound suspicious."

"No." I hesitated. "I've just got this feeling she knew more than what she was saying."

"She'd be naturally suspicious of anyone – which is why she does a check on them first."

"Maybe." I pushed open the door of the 7-Eleven, and helped myself to coffee – they didn't have hazelnut, so I compensated with a hazelnut chocolate bar – then I headed around to grab some Panadol. Off-the-shelf painkillers mightn't be the strongest available, but they were better than nothing. Once I'd paid the man, I headed back out.

"What did you make of her saying, 'You will save us'?"

"A slip of the tongue, perhaps?"

"She didn't seem the sort to do anything by mistake." I sipped my coffee, wincing a little at its bitter taste. "There's something going on here that we don't understand."

"It's natural to feel that, given we know so little about her or her relationship with Starr." He paused. "But be careful all the same."

Like I wasn't going to be? "How thorough a background search did you do?"

"Very. We don't send people into dangerous situations willy-nilly, you know."

I grinned. "I'm mighty glad to hear that. So what now?"

"You go find a room at an appropriate hotel and catch some sleep."

"Then?"

"Then, we see what tomorrow brings."

"Meaning, lots of things are happening, but you're not telling me just in case things go wrong my end and I blab details."

He chuckled. "Rhoan's right. For a girl, you're pretty damn clever."

Meaning, as I'd suspected, he'd been watching and listening in to our training session. "If I was clever, I wouldn't be standing here on a deserted St. Kilda street, freezing my butt off, but in New York, or Paris, or even London – somewhere they couldn't give a damn about what my DNA could do for them."

"I'm not interested in your DNA."

"No, just what I could do for your new guardian squad," I replied dryly. "So how in the hell do I get to Dia's place from here?"

"Catch one of the trams that run along Malvern Road, and get off at Kooyong Road. Huntingfield is halfway between Malvern and Toorak."

"So either way I'm hiking."

"It won't kill you."

"Says the man who wasn't beaten to a pulp by Gautier yesterday."

"I feel obliged to point out that you weren't, cither."

Only thanks to the fact he'd intervened. "Night, Jack."

"Night, Poppy."

I snorted and flicked the button behind my ear. The slight buzz of energy that had been teasing my lobes died, but the ache in my head didn't. I popped a couple of the Panadol, swilling them down with the bitter coffee, then munched on more chocolate to take away the aftertaste.

After strolling along for several blocks, I found a dingy-looking hotel that had rooms for rent at cheap rates. Just the sort of place someone like Poppy might settle for – though if I wasn't playing her part, I certainly wouldn't have gone near the place. The hotel sat next to a bar, so not only did it stink of sweaty humanity, but booze as well. The raucous laughter coming from inside the bar suggested heavy patronage – which in turn meant little sleep. I blew out a breath, reminded myself it was only for one night, and headed inside.

The reek was worse within the four walls, and the rooms more dilapidated than the outside. The bed itself looked older than Methuselah, and had obviously seen more than a few couplings on it. I screwed up my nose, and glanced at the floor. The carpet looked no better, but at least the floor didn't have a disastrous sag in it.

With a sigh, I hauled off the blankets – which at least looked and smelled clean – and made myself a bed on the floor. Then I stripped off, shifted shape to hurry along the already healing scratches on my arms, and settled down to sleep.

Surprisingly, and despite all the noise and odors, I did sleep, not waking until the hotel's manager banged on the door the following morning.

With a groan, I rolled onto my side and stared Wearily at the clock on the bedside table above me. Eight. Time to get some breakfast and head on over to see Dia.

After stretching out the kinks and giving my face and arms a quick wash down with cold water, I dressed and headed back out to the street. Unfortunately, trams didn't run as regularly on a Sunday, so I grabbed a couple of McMuffins from McDonald's to munch on while I waited at the stop.

It was well after nine when I hit Toorak. I climbed off the tram at Kooyong Road, and pressed the disk behind my ear.

"Heading for Dia's now."

"Keep the line open."

"Will do."

I strolled up Kooyong Road, admiring the million dollar houses and wondering what it'd be like to live a place that practically screamed money. Personally, I'd be afraid to move lest I break something.

Huntingfield Road came along, and I turned left onto it. Many of the houses here seemed more ornate, making me feel even more out of place. A feeling that grew when I stopped to press the intercom button to one side of the huge, wrought iron gates that guarded Dia's house.

To say the place was amazing would be an understatement – though the house itself wasn't as ornate as some of its neighbors. It was an old, early twentieth-century design that reminded me greatly of the grand old English mansions often shown on the TV. Though this was painted a warm, soft gold, ivy crept over the brickwork and sprawled across the roof, giving the impression the house had been here forever. The lawn that stretched from the side gate to the porch was a rich carpet of green – so lush my feet suddenly itched with the need to run through it – and the pines that lined the boundary gave the whole property a feeling of isolation. I'd never been envious of anyone else's living conditions in my life, but I couldn't help thinking how amazing it would be to live in a place like this. A little bit of luxurious heaven, and yet with everything you could ever want or need within walking distance to your doorstep.

The intercom crackled, then Dia said, "Yes?"

"Poppy Burns, accepting your invitation."

"Ah. Good." The gates buzzed, then clicked open. "Come in."

I walked through the gates, and somehow resisted the urge to take off my shoes and run through the grass, instead following the herringbone-patterned brick path. Dia Jones opened the door as I approached. That surprised me. Surely someone who lived in a pad as plush as this would have a servant or two running around?

Her hair was no longer brown mixed with silver, just a pure whitish-silver, and with the long, flowing white dress she had on, she looked almost ethereal. Except for her eyes. They positively glowed with the power that shimmered across my skin like little zaps of lightning. I stopped, staring into her blind eyes, again struck by the sensation that this woman knew far more than we wanted her to.

"Come in, come in," Her smile was as charming as her voice was warm. "The house won't bite, and neither will I."

Obviously, she was taking my reluctance to enter for awe at her surroundings rather than her, and that was just fine by me. I stepped past her. The hallway beyond was huge, as was the chandelier that sprayed rainbows across the soft gold walls and carpets. A redwood sideboard was the only piece of furnishing in the entrance hall, and on it sat a vase filled with blood-red gladiolas. Two rooms led off the hall, and a staircase clad in a deeper gold carpet sat at the end, undoubtedly spiraling upward into more richness.

"Just head into the living room on your left," she said, as she closed the door.

The living room turned out to be another filled with gold and creams. Though the room was huge, there wasn't a whole lot of furniture – just two large sofas, a marble coffee table and a matching, white marble fireplace. The chandelier that hung above all this elegance was smaller than the one in the entrance hall, but not by much. A bright, modernistic painting held pride of place above the fireplace, adding a much needed splash of color.

"Please, sit down." Dia waved a hand at one heavily brocaded sofa even as she felt for the sofa nearest her with the other. Odd, considering she'd seemed so sure of her movements last night.

I perched on the edge of the sofa, feeling more than a little out of place in all this richness. Which, given I'd had mates who were far wealthier than Dia, was weird. They'd never made me feel inadequate in any way when it came to money – or the lack of it – so why did this woman? Or did it have nothing to do wealth, and everything to do with the overwhelming sense of power I was getting from her?

But if she was so powerful, why was she doing Starr's bidding? It made no sense.

"I take it you are here about the job offer?"

I nodded. "The hotel I stayed in last night solidified the need for quick cash."

"And you wish to remain under the radar at the moment, thanks to the arrest warrant that's outstanding in Sydney?"

I gave her my best "outraged" look. Which, considering she was blind, was pretty dumb. But then, this woman was psychic, so who knew what other senses she relied on to help her "see"? "Is this what the invite was about? Hand me in and earn a quick couple of grand?"

Her smile was wry. "Look around you. I hardly think a mere couple of thousand is worth the effort of luring you here."

"Maybe that's how you got all this richness – trapping not only the suckers, but runaways."

"I always run background checks on people I'm about to employ. It's standard procedure."

"And having a warrant out on me make me undesirable?" I snorted and thrust to my feet. "Your loss, lady."

I swung my pack over my shoulder and headed for the door – hoping all the while I wasn't about to blow it. But Poppy was the indignant type who fired at the drop of a hat, so anything else might have been seen as odd behavior.

"It wasn't the warrant that caused the problem," she said.

I stopped and looked around. She wasn't even looking at me, but staring instead somewhere to my left. It was almost as if she wasn't sure of my exact whereabouts, and again, that ran against everything I'd seen last night.

"Then what is the problem?"

"The fact that Poppy Burns doesn't actually exist."

Fuck, So much for Jack's clever paperwork. "I don't? We'll, gee, thanks for the tip."

I forced my feet on. She hadn't locked the front door when I entered, so at least I could get out of the house. And it didn't matter if the gates were locked, because the fence was within a wolf's jumping range.

"I have a deal to offer you and the Directorate, Riley," she said softly.

"Stop," Jack said into my ear.

I mentally cursed him, but turned around and crossed my arms. Tension coiled through every muscle as I readied for action, readied to fight. Fight who, I had no idea, because Dia herself was offering no threat. No physical threat, anyway. "Why do you think I'm this Riley?"

"I touched your hand last night. It told me many secrets." She smiled. "You can drop the pretense. I know the truth."

How, when she hadn't actually read my mind? Did that mean her gift was some form of precognition that came online whenever she touched someone? "So why not mention something then?"

"Because I had to make sure I was right, that I didn't have the wrong name."

Meaning not all her predictions came true? That admission had to be first in the world of psychics. "And this is important because?"

"Because Riley Jenson is the only person known to have either escaped or frustrated Deshon Starr's plans."

Her words did little to ease the tension running through my limbs, and if wasn't for the fact that I could sense or smell no one else in the house, I might have run. Yes, I wanted an end to the madness, but that wasn't going to happen when I was standing here, far away from Starr.

"Ask her what she wants," Jack said.

If he'd been standing next to me rather than jabbering in my ear, I would have been tempted to kick him, boss or not. There were more important worries – like how much she might have told Starr, and whether or not Rhoan was in danger of discovery.

"And what have you done with this knowledge?"

"Not gone to my would-be master, you can be sure of that." Her voice was dry, but there was something in the way her blind eyes flashed that had me believing her.

Which might just mean I was nothing more than a fool, and easily taken in by a bit of sincerity combined with contempt and anger.

"And why wouldn't you do that? He killed Misha for attempting to double-cross him. He'd do the same to you without a second thought."

"I know. But things cannot remain the way they are."

"What things?"

She gave me a cool smile. "Before we go into details, I need to know if the Directorate would be willing to deal."

"Yes," Jack and I said together. He added in my ear, "Depending, of course, on what she wants."

She raised a pale eyebrow. "You don't need to speak to your buss first?"

"I don't have to. I can hear him in my head." I was tempted to add, "and no, I'm not mad," but restrained the impulse. A, because she'd "seen" me in action last night, and B, because I actually think insanity had a lot to do with my current situation. After all, no one sane would willingly step into hell's den with the intent of fucking his lieutenants for information, no matter how pissed off and in need of revenge they were.

"Telepathy." She nodded. "A handy tool for those in your line of work, though I'm surprised they haven't taught you more control."

"We would have if we'd known it was needed." Jack's voice was sarcastic. "But someone forgot to mention an apparent increase in power since our last lesson."

I ignored him. Anything I said w