The Rhiannon Chronicles

by Maggie Shayne

  And then he was moving again—directly downward, and someone said, “He’s coming around. Should we give him another shot?”

  “Sun’s coming up as we speak, rookie. He’s gonna wake up in a nice, cozy cell without a clue. They heal up by day, you know.”

  “I know that.”

  The downward motion stopped. Elevator, Roland thought as the doors opened. His ride bumped over something and his skull seemed to split into several pieces and pour his throbbing brain out onto the floor.

  Then the day sleep came calling, pulling at him, and he rushed willingly into its gentle embrace.

  Chapter Five

  Roxanne piloted the plane through the daylight hours. When night came again, I roused in the cramped cargo hold. The plane was motionless, resting on the ground, empty. Its hatch stood open and I could see the ocean rolling beneath the night just beyond it. Waves hurled themselves against the familiar rocky shore, then hissed away again. My heart lifted in something like joy, something like relief. The Atlantic. God, how I’d missed her.

  Climbing out of the hold, I sank my bare feet into the cool sand that wound its way, riverlike, amid the dark rocks of Maine's coast. Even as I relished the sensation and breathed the fresh salty air, I realized that my shoes had been removed and a blanket wrapped over my shoulders, covering me like one of Roland’s beloved cloaks. I held it around my neck without thinking. Roxanne, of course, always seeing to my comfort. No matter how many times I told her we feel nothing during the day sleep, she always acts as if we do. Whenever we spend time with her, she buries us in down comforters and fluffy pillows, even though we would sleep just as soundly were we resting upon a cold, flat rock, so long as it was out of the sun’s reach.

  I adore her for that.

  Turning my gaze away from the ocean, I faced the cliffs and spotted the path that led up them to the house far above. It was a restored mansion, and familiar to me, having once been the home of the Gypsy vampire Dante, and later, of the woman who would become his bride, Morgan de Silva. Morgan was an award-winning screenwriter. But that was long ago, back in the days before anyone realized her vampire films were based on reality. She’d found Dante’s diaries, forgotten in the house’s attic and penned screenplays based on what she’d read in them. One of them had earned her the industry’s highest award. It had been given “posthumously,” because everyone had to believe she’d died. She had, in fact, only become Undead. Now the pair traveled, as we all had to do, lest we be found out and murdered in our sleep. She’d willed the house to her only sister.

  Maxine, otherwise known as “Mad Maxie” was Morgan’s twin, and yet not one of The Chosen. Her husband Lou Malone was a retired policeman and together they’d created a detective agency that specialized in things that go bump. Supernatural Investigations Service, SIS for short. They were friends to our kind and I trusted them more than any other mortal, save Roxanne.

  I was eager to see them again, but more eager to rescue my beloved Roland from those who had dared take him from me.

  There would be blood tonight.

  I didn’t bother making my way up the steep, zigzag path that led from the beach to the top of the cliffs. Instead I jumped, springing upward like a rocket and landing easily at the top. There, Pandora sat awaiting me. I should've known she would be there. She knew my routines as well as I knew them myself. When the sun went down, she would always come to my resting place and wait for me to awaken.

  I stroked her sleek head. "Was it very awful, being crammed into that cargo hold with me, my pet?"

  She chuffed and pressed her head up against my palm. I bent to kiss her face, and she licked my cheek in return.

  My cat kept pace as I strode toward the pristine white mansion, across lush green grasses, past flourishing gardens with stone benches and fountains.

  The three children came bounding out the back doors and across the patio, Christian lumbering along as if he were one of them. Maxine and Lou came right behind them. Roxanne remained in the still-open glass doors, ever watchful.

  Nikki raced forward, slamming into me like a wrecking ball and hugging me around my waist, but quickly pulling away and looking almost confused by her own actions. Emotion. She was feeling emotion.

  “I hate when you sleep, Rhiannon.”

  “What a strange thing to say. Why do you hate it?”

  “Because...because what if you never wake up?”

  I hugged my little girl close, stroking her hair, and wondering if Nikki had witnessed my deathlike slumber and been frightened by it. I must see to it that such a thing did not happen again.

  “I will wake up for as long as I am meant to wake up, my darling. We all live just as long as we are meant to live. And when the time comes to stop living, we awaken to another life. A different life, where everything is good and peaceful and kind.” I planted a kiss on the top of her head, then took her hand and began walking toward the others, and when I reached the boys, I hugged them, too. And they hugged back, though they pretended not to want to. I patted Christian's shoulder, and thought he might prefer a hug as well. Though large and powerful, the man was childlike in many ways.

  Maxine was shaking her head slowly. “Never thought I’d see the day. The great Rhiannon in the role of Old Mother Hubbard.”

  I shot the perky redhead my most fearsome scowl, knowing it didn’t scare her in the least. In fact, she grinned and came to me.

  “It’s so good to see you again, Rhiannon," she went on. "So good.” She held out her hands.

  I took them and accepted her enthusiastic cheek kiss stoically. “It’s good to see you, too. I only wish it were under better circumstances. How are your sister and Dante?”

  “They’re good. Staying off the radar. Traveling the globe, never remaining in one place very long. They say it’s a bit easier in Sweden and Canada, where attitudes are more liberal. But they visit often.”

  “It is good to know they’re all right,” I said, and meant it. These days, those we hadn’t heard from in a while were, more often than not, no longer in existence.

  “We know what’s going on,” Lou said, standing beside Max. His brown trousers and cream colored button down shirt seemed a bit too big, just as they always did. The only thing about him that had changed since being with a bride eighteen years his junior, was that he looked younger than before. He stood straighter, smiled more widely, had new a sparkle in his eyes. He seemed more alive than before. Life with the hellion was good for him, I thought. “Roxy filled us in,” he said, pretending not to notice my perusal. “I hope you’re not going to argue against us coming along to help you with the rescue.”

  Maxine nodded with enough emphasis to strain her neck. “We’ve been keeping tabs on that freaking place ever since they started rebuilding it a couple of years ago,” she said. “No matter how many times we destroy them, DPI just won’t stay dead.” She elbowed Lou. "Didn't I tell you? Didn't I?"

  He sent her a long suffering, but utterly loving nod.

  “I was hoping to leave the children with you, Maxine,” I said. “They are...special."

  "Special, how?" she asked, eyeing the kids. Apparently Roxanne had told her nothing of their origins, nor their abilities.

  "It's...complicated. Suffice it to say that DPI is after them, as well.”

  Roxanne spoke up from behind Max. “Christian and I can stay with the kids. No one’s going to bother them here. They won't even make the connection between the Malones and the Undead. Max and Lou have been extremely discreet, as have Morgan and Dante. This is truly a safe place, Rhiannon.”

  “That’s what we thought about your woodland cabin, Roxanne,” I said softly.

  Maxine was looking at the kids, then at Lou, as if wondering what they were, and why DPI would be after them. She didn’t ask, but I knew she would, sooner or later. Her curiosity was just shy of legendary. It was a miracle that it had not yet got her killed.

  “Lucas called a few minutes ago. He’ll be here in twenty,” Roxanne said. He
’d booked a commercial flight, since there hadn’t been room enough in the small plane for him. “You may as well come inside and get something to eat.”

  “I do not want to eat. I want to get to White Plains as fast as possible.”

  Maxine put a small hand on my shoulder. “You must be going crazy worrying about him. But you want to be at full strength when you get there. It'll only take a couple of minutes.”

  Nikki tugged on my dress. “Where is Roland? How far away?”

  I shot a look at Lou, because I did not know the distance.

  “A good five hours by car," he said.

  I walked with the others across the patio, through the glass doors and into the house. “That’s unacceptable,” I said.

  We wound up in the kitchen, which was huge and entirely done in darkly stained wood and hammered copper. It was stunning, old looking, and beautiful. It had not been this way when Morgan had lived here. Maxine had apparently changed things to suit her own tastes.

  “The only way faster is to take the plane,” Roxanne said. “And I can’t fly it if I’m staying here with the kids.”

  Maxine put a mugful of sustenance into the microwave and pressed a button. I tried not to grimace. Microwaved blood was nothing compared to fresh from the tap. But beggars could not be choosers. “We can’t take the children near that place," I said. "DPI considers them a greater prize than any of us. I intend to keep them as far from their headquarters as possible.”

  The timer pinged, and Max handed the mug to me. I thanked her and drank deeply. The red-headed conspiracy theorist had been right about one thing; I would need every ounce of strength for the battle I would wage on this night. I needed to get to Roland. My beloved. Every instant we delayed brought with it the risk of greater suffering for him. I was all but trembling in my eagerness to go.

  “How fast could the airplane get us to White Plains?” I asked.

  Roxanne said, “Two hours, give or take.”

  “Then we must take the plane. Maxine, you’ll have to stay behind with Christian and–”

  “No one knows that place like I do,” Maxine argued.

  “It is not up for debate, my mortal friend. Roxanne is the only one who can fly the plane.”

  “I can fly the plane.” The voice came from the patio, through the still-open glass doors, and it belonged to Lucas. He had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and he came in, dropping it on the floor. It clunked loudly.

  “You can?” I asked.

  “Absolutely. The only question is, is there room for all of us in that little seaplane?”

  “I rode in the cargo hold underneath on the way here, but only to avoid the daylight.”

  “You’ll fit,” Roxanne said. “I fueled her up while you rested today, Rhiannon, so she’s good to go.”

  “Then please, let’s be on our way.”

  Maxine heaved a sigh, rolled her eyes at my hastiness. “I’m Max,” she told Lucas, extending a hand. “Have you eaten?”

  “Lucas,” he said, shaking briefly. “And yeah, fast food while driving. I’m in a big hurry to get to old Peg-Leg, too.”

  “Peg-Leg?” Maxine looked at me, her brows raised, her eyes round.

  “It’s a tale for the trip.” I headed for the door and heard Lou asking Roxanne how much weight the cargo hold could handle for weapons, including tranquilizer darts to keep the kill count down.

  Keeping the kill count down was not among my priorities.

  “We don’t want to be under-armed,” he said.

  “When are we ever?” Maxine asked him.

  “Let’s leave then,” I said. “Roland is even now awakening in captivity. The gods only know what those animals might do to him before we arrive.”

  * * *

  Roland awoke slowly, arising from a sleep deeper than any living mortal would ever know. There was a brief, blissful instant when he expected to open his eyes and see the face of his Rhiannon. She’d be lying beside him, her head pillowed by softness, her eyes open but sleepy. She liked to take her time about waking up. Often, she preferred long, slow lovemaking to bring her around to full wakefulness.

  But this night, when he opened his eyes, he saw iron bars in front of him, and he wondered if DPI had become so stupid in its latest incarnation, that it expected them to hold a vampire. He could bend those things like a human could bend coat hangers. He rose, grabbed hold of the bars and a bolt of electricity blasted him right back into his bed. His head cracked the wall behind it, and then he sat there for a moment, dazed and shaking with the after effects.

  I tried to shout a warning, Roland, but you’re too fast for me.

  The energy of the male vampire addressing him was vaguely familiar, but Roland’s mind was foggy and not functioning the way a vampiric mind ought to. I’m sorry, he replied. Do I know you?

  It’s hell the havoc their damned tranquilizer wreaks on our brains, isn’t it? This mental voice was female, and he did remember her. She was one of Rhiannon’s.

  Cuyler Jade? he said. The Flapper, yes?

  I’m flattered you remember.

  How could I forget? Rhiannon used to go to that speakeasy every night to watch over you. She sensed something was coming. And then she’d return to me after closing time and insist on teaching me whatever silly dance steps she’d learned from you that night.

  She was a natural, Cuyler replied. And she was a knockout in fringe and feathers. And believe me, I’m glad she was there night the G-men came in shooting up the place. I wouldn’t have survived if she hadn’t turned me.

  Roland missed his bride. It welled up in him as he recalled how she’d looked in her red sequined dress, with its layers of fringe that moved whenever she did, and the matching headband with the long black feather. Then that’s Ramsey with you, he said, trying to distract himself from his grief. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize your energy, Bachman. And as he said it, he opened his senses and realized they were not the only other vampires imprisoned in this place. He felt others, all of them alert and paying attention to him, though he’d been keeping his conversation private up to now. He mentally lowered the protective gates of his mind to allow the others access. How many vampires are here? he asked.

  Eight, including you, Ramsey replied.

  Hey, fellow captives, Cuyler said. The newcomer is Roland de Courtemanche.

  He felt their emotions, surprise and some kind of hope. One by one they introduced themselves. Besides Cuyler and Ramsey, there were Samuel, Lorna, and Jonathan Jacob.

  That’s only seven, Roland replied after each of them introduced themselves.

  The eighth can’t answer, Cuyler Jade said. She’s imprisoned in a way we are not, and there’s barely any life left in her. But you can feel her, intermittently, and when you can, her energy is kind of...well…insane to be blunt about it. We don’t know what these bastards did to her. She’s in the furthest cell back.

  The word “cell” prompted him to take a more careful look around him. Walls of concrete on three sides, and electrified iron bars across the front. Inside, there was a cot, green fabric stretched across a wooden frame. No pillow. No blanket. No comfort of any kind. And there wasn’t another item in the cell with him.

  Lorna asked, Did they get Rhiannon too?

  No. She’s still free. And there’s very little question in my mind that as soon as she can figure out where I am, she’ll arrive with an army to tear this place apart brick by brick, and its keepers limb from limb. I wish she wouldn’t risk it, but I’ve known her for too long. His head throbbed and he pressed the heel of his hand into the spot between temple and forehead, as if he could press the ache away. After touching the bars, he’d hit the wall just now with the back of his head. Odd that this was the place hurting as a result.

  If Rhiannon comes, we’ll all be free, Samuel said.

  And DPI will be no more, said Jonathan Jacob. Her temper is legendary.

  Roland secretly hoped that she wouldn’t come here. Perhaps she didn’t even know where here wa
s. But that wasn’t a logical thing to hope. He knew her too well. She would find him, no matter what it took, and when she did, there was going to be hell to pay. He prayed she wouldn’t get herself killed trying to rescue him, but knew there was nothing on this earth that would stop her from trying.

  * * *

  “We’re very strong, you know,” Nikki said to Roxy.

  The others had all trooped out across the lawns, carrying duffle bags filled with weapons and ammo to the waiting plane. The kids had helped them pack. It made them feel useful, Roxy had thought. But the little girl was going on about how strong she was now, and Roxy didn't much care for the look in her eyes.

  “We can help save Roland. Probably better than they can,” she said.

  Roxy frowned at the beautiful seven-year-old child, tilting her head to one side, then she turned slowly, realizing that one of the boys, Gareth, was standing behind her while Rhiannon’s mini-me stood just in front of her. A shiver raced up her spine. Where the hell was the other one, the brooder?

  Ramses was in the next room with Christian. Roxy could hear them talking. “Why don’t we find something fun to do, kids, to make the time go faster until your parents get back hmm?”

  “What means parents?” Nikki asked, drawing Roxy’s eyes to her again.

  “What does the word ‘parents’ mean,” Roxy corrected. “You’re forgetting all that grammar we’ve been teaching you.

  “I didn’t forget.” Nikki nodded at Gareth and before Roxy could even turn again, something jabbed her in the backside.

  “Son of a–!” She twisted her body to look down and saw a dart sticking out of her butt-cheek, and as she reached back to pull it out, the children grabbed her arms and held her still with surprising strength.

  “Rhiannon will be mad at us for leaving you like this,” Nikki said. “But we have to hurry or they’ll go without us.”

  Roxy’s knees turned to jelly as she realized the little rugrats must have stolen one of Lou Malone’s tranquilizer darts from the stash of weapons they'd helped pack up. She heard Christian yelp, and then there was a loud thud from the next room that had to be the big guy hitting the floor. They'd stolen two darts, then. Her head swirled. “Take it out, Nikki. The dose is too...” She struggled to form words. “Too much for a human. Those are v-vamp tranqs.”