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The understanding was in her eyes, but Dee shook her head.
Time for some brutal truth. “Do you know how long it’s been since a new Born came into the world?”
Her lips trembled. “Borns are ancient. There haven’t been any for thousands of years. They were some kind of genetic mutation. A messed-up mutation that gave rise to the vamps.”
To us. “What all do you know about Borns?”
The fingers of her right hand rubbed the wrist he’d bitten. Slow, steady strokes that she didn’t even seem to be aware of making. “I hunt vampires. I know everything there is to know—both about the Born and the Taken.”
“Not everything,” he said, voice soft.
Eyes narrowing, she snapped, “They’re young. I mean the Born change young. They’re strong. Stronger physically and psychically than the Taken. They can—they can control other vampires. Summon those in the line they create.”
Points for her. Time for hell. “Those vampires came to your home all those years ago for a reason, Dee. It wasn’t some random attack.”
“No, they wanted blood. They didn’t care who they hurt?—”
“They came for you.”
She took a step back. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that about sixteen years ago, a level-nine demon made a prediction.” She’d been the strongest precognitive alive. Of course, after her prediction, the demon’s body had been found, minus her head.
One less precog demon around.
“The demon said a new Born was in the world, and that one day, she’d change, just like the others had changed so long ago.” Not so subtle emphasis on the she.
Dee’s lips parted. “No.”
No sympathy. No remorse. He couldn’t afford to give any as he continued, “The vampires came to your home because you were the predicted Born. They had to kill you while you were young, before you could change.”
“No.”
The air seemed to thicken around him. “They were under orders not to drain you. They were supposed to cut your head off.” No chance of her changing that way. “They weren’t sure when you’d transform, and the bastard leading them didn’t want to take any chances.”
She backed up another step. “Stop this! This is bullshit, I don’t?—”
“They killed your family because they wanted you to be alone. Helpless.”
A tear leaked from the corner of her eye. Blood red. Borns always cried tears of blood. “If what you’re saying is true, why didn’t they come back and kill me? Why let me keep living all these years?”
“At first, because you disappeared.” And because Grim had killed his all-seeing demon. No one had been around to tell him where to find a missing girl. “Then Pak took you in.” Most vamps knew better than to cross him. “Others did come for you, but by then, it was too late. You’d learned to kill, and you were ready for the change.”
“Ready? Ready how? Simon, I don’t?—”
Now he did lift his hand. His fingers brushed over her face. The clean, smooth lines of her face. She should have seen this for herself. “You stopped aging.”
She swallowed.
In her thirties, but she looked like she was in her early twenties. The woman hadn’t even realized it. She’d been too busy fighting. He cleared his throat. “You probably began to heal faster from your injuries, too, didn’t you? And killing, I bet it became easier.”
“So much easier.” A bit of sadness.
“You didn’t transform fully because you were still alive.” Tricky part here. “You couldn’t become a vampire until your human self died.” A little rule not everyone knew.
Her lashes fell. “Like I did in that alley.”
No denial now. She just sounded tired. Sick.
