A moment later, Elias was gone in a squeal of tires. In the approaching dawn, Roksana reeled in place on the curb, positive the last couple of hours had been a dream, until the sound of sirens pierced the quiet, reminding her to get moving.
Focus on the mission.
Not on the fact that someday soon, you’ll kill your own husband.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Coney Island, 2018
Elias leaned back against the headstone of a young mother, letting soil slide through his fingertips, the wind sifting it sideways. Like he’d done every night this week, he sat in the graveyard beneath the heavy moon and waited for a slayer to arrive, ready to hunt. Hoping it would be Roksana, while equally dreading the possibility.
Although his penance to Inessa had been served in Moscow, not New York, he knew damn well where slayers preferred to roam. To hunt. Where they searched for his kind, eager to snuff out their vile existence.
He awaited the battle just as eagerly, desperate to feel anything.
Desperate to be punished for his sins. His helplessness when she needed him.
After Roksana freed him from the prison beneath the facility, he’d felt like a fucking kid again, devoid of direction. Penniless. Feeling as if he didn’t know how to belong in the world. Like any dog, he’d been pulled in the direction of home. Not Los Angeles. No, he’d been called to the last place he felt normal. The last place that held good memories for him.
He’d gone back to Vegas.
It hadn’t been easy, figuring out how to travel safely now that sunlight could snuff him out. He’d used a stolen credit card to book travel to Vegas in an Internet café. It had taken several flights over the course of a week, stopping over in unfamiliar places so he could take cover from the light, before finally reaching Sin City once again.
There he’d found it incredible easy to make money. A lot of it.
He’d discovered his ability to compel humans by accident, when in a bout of hunger, he’d demanded a blood bank employee open their doors after closing time. After all these years, he was back to being resentful, combative. Feral. He was the man who’d settled Jaxson into a life of crime, then exited stage right, not bothering to look back at the destruction left in his wake until it was too late.
Within the walls of the casinos, he’d taken money off unsuspecting humans, using his abilities to compel them or simply read their pulse. He’d disgusted himself in doing so, but what were his other means of survival? He had none. Just like Jaxson. And so, during those dark nights in Vegas, he’d been humbled in his own downfall. Made aware of how superior he’d once believed himself to be, even while grieving his friend. How quickly a man could go from the top to a bottom feeder.
Most of the money he’d won had gone to Jaxson’s family. He’d also donated to the S.W.A.T. team he’d left behind, sending the cash in an envelope with the words, “From Silent E,” written on a note inside. Elias must have been paying closer attention than he originally thought to Kenny, Latte and the rest. How they thought and operated. Because he knew instinctively that when he went missing, they probably believed they’d failed their teammate. Hopefully the message he’d sent would give them some closure, if not satisfying answers.
After the donations he’d made, Elias had a sizeable amount of money. Too much to spend in three lifetimes, especially since he’d taken up residence in the seediest motel he could find. At least there he didn’t have to watch people going about happy, healthy lives. He could be the company to the misery surrounding him.
The sound of grass being depressed beneath a heel narrowed Elias’s eyes to slits. This one was more skilled than the others. Moved more quietly.
Anticipation stole up his spine. Was it her?
This time, he wasn’t a starving prisoner. She wouldn’t let him slide, wishing for a more fulfilling fight. She’d drive that stake into the dead organ in his chest and finally, finally, he’d be free. He wouldn’t have to live with the sounds of her betrayed screams anymore. Wouldn’t have to live with this constant burn for someone he’d never deserve. He’d give her the retribution she needed, because it was all he had to offer now.
There was no reason to believe she’d be in New York, instead of Moscow, but he was slowly making his way back to Russia, one domestic flight at a time and maybe, just maybe they’d met in the middle. She’d promised to hunt him, hadn’t she? He’d used their time apart growing more adept at managing his new superhuman movements and strength, so he’d never again feel as helpless as he had outside that chapel.