Crooked Shadows--A Vampire Bodyguard Romance

by M. A. Grant

  Atlas must have sensed Cristian’s attention, because he turned and held Cristian’s gaze. “I’m fine,” he said, voice rough. “It’s as beautiful as I remember. I didn’t know if it still would be...” He shook his head as they took a hairpin turn slow enough to see the pattern of bark on the trunks of the trees pressed up against the road.

  Finding beauty in the place that had destroyed you could be worse than finding it as terrible as you remembered, Cristian knew. He stole the opportunity to reach across the empty seat between him and Atlas, stretching out his fingers until they brushed against the edge of Atlas’s hand.

  Atlas sucked in a breath, but moved his hand closer too. It was a simple, innocent touch, nothing more than their pinkies crossing, but the wave of longing and protectiveness that swept through Cristian nearly took him under. He stayed there, content to offer his silent support to Atlas for as long as he needed it.

  Their car left the main road behind and turned up a narrow dirt path snaking its way into the forest. It was impossible to escape the claustrophobia of the trees closing in on all sides, and the faintest hint of Atlas’s displeasure—sulfurous and too much like a recently fired gun—crept into the air of the backseat. Cristian gave up the pretense and shifted his hand to fully cover Atlas’s, reminding him he wasn’t alone. Atlas’s fingertips dug into the cushion and the gun smoke scent spiked, then vanished. Atlas twisted his hand under Cristian’s, turning it so they were palm to palm, and entwined their fingers. He held on as the car slowed, waiting for a heavy door worked into the mountainside to open. He held on as they drove into the underground compound and parked in a large garage. And he held on as the driver turned off the car and announced, “I will unload your bags. Crina is waiting for you inside.”

  Only after the driver exited the car did Atlas loosen his grip enough for Cristian to slip free. “If they’re taking our bags, I doubt we’ll be in any real trouble,” Atlas said, poorly hiding his apprehension.

  “I agree.” Cristian hoped his voice didn’t betray his own doubts. “Shall we go in?”

  They left the garage and passed through a door into what was once a cave system and now served as the protected haven of the Dunării family. The hall before them had been expanded from its original passageway. The marks from the tools remained in the walls smoothed by centuries of habitation. The floor was layered with gorgeous rugs in rich, warm colors that made the patterns spiral out over the pale stone floor. At the far end of the hall, near a solid door that stood as yet another line of defense to the inner nest, stood an attractive young woman. Her embroidered shirt and fitted leggings showed off all her ample curves. She wore no jewelry except a long, simple chain at her neck, which disappeared underneath her shirt.

  Cristian placed his hand on Atlas’s lower back as a warning not to speak, and called out, “Crina?”

  “Mr. Putnam,” she called back. “I’m so glad you made it to us safely.”

  “Thank you for sending a driver,” he said, exchanging the requisite pleasantries, before switching back to English. “It has been quite a long time since I have been in Romania, and I would never have found my way here without the help.”

  She tilted her head back and laughed at that. She’d caught his hint though, and when she spoke again, she too had switched to English. “That’s the goal of living this remotely, Mr. Putnam. And Mr. Putnam’s companion—”

  Atlas halted a safe distance from her and offered her a faint smile of his own. “Joseph Billings. Mr. Putnam’s bodyguard.”

  “A pleasure, Mr. Billings.” She tilted her head to the door at her back. “Follow me, please.”

  She led them through the door and into another hall, this one larger than the first, but still cut off at the other end with yet another door. Atlas glanced at the embrasures carved into the walls, which showed nothing but shadow behind them. “Interesting feature,” he commented. “And a well-planned defense.”

  “Unused to this day, fortunately,” Crina said lightly. “Our nest has not been breached since we moved here.”

  Cristian hummed with the appropriate amount of wonder the comment required, but little feeling behind it. Atlas gave him a curious look, clearly aware he’d missed something. Later, Cristian would tell him why the family took defense so seriously, how the fall of Preslav forced them to find a new home, one untouched by the ash of their loved ones. He’d try to explain how the Dunării had been forced to recreate themselves over and over again with new nests and new languages, not unlike his own family during their immigration to America. But now wasn’t the time, not when Crina led them through the next door and into an expansive cavern which served as the nexus of the compound.

  Various halls branched off in different directions and sounds echoed out to them from the depths beyond. A set of narrow stairs led down to what could only be the kitchen, from the ring of pots and mouth-watering promise of roasting meats and vegetables. Farther away, the warmth of steamed air and clean linens, probably a laundry of some kind. Fresh sawdust and oil from a worn passage that rumbled like a thunderstorm as tools and machinery burst in and out of life. Everywhere, life and work went on about them, safe from the sun.

  A crowd of people milled about. The humans—likely donors—noted their presence before continuing about their business. Most of the vampires eyed him and Atlas with open wariness; only a few, who all held themselves with stiff focus, seemed unaware of his presence as they moved toward the garage.

  “It’s quite busy here,” Cristian commented when yet another vampire brushed past him.

  “The voivode was finishing a meeting with the vice-ispáns of the counties,” Crina explained. “Most are returning home today, at the voivode’s request. Only a few from the farthest counties will remain here until this evening at his personal invitation.”

  His interest in the unusual crowd didn’t go unnoticed, nor did his obvious status as an outsider. An ominous hush followed them as Crina led them through the large bailey and to a set of heavy oak doors.

  A pair of vampires standing watch grasped the heavy metal handles and swung the doors wide as they neared. The next cavern was narrower, with a high ceiling that opened up above them like a cathedral. A wooden walkway had been installed on the ground, lifting them up above pools of water reflecting the ambient light.

  “Incredible,” Atlas murmured, craning his head back to take it in.

  Cristian silently agreed. The lights on the edges of the walkway illuminated their immediate path, but vanished up into the darkness overhead. A continual, offbeat dripping surrounded them as water dripped down off the stalactites and fell into the pools. The cool, moist air caressed their faces and the wooden planks beneath their feet creaked and groaned as the swollen wood bore their weight.

  “Voivode Mihai and his family are expecting you,” Crina told Cristian. “When you are finished, I will return for you both and show you to your room.”

  “Thank you,” Cristian said quickly when Atlas started to open his mouth. “We are grateful for your hospitality.”

  “Yes,” Atlas choked out. “Thank you.”

  Crina reached up and pulled at the chain around her neck, lifting an old key from beneath her shirt. She bent down enough to insert the key into the heavy lock of the door, turning it slowly until the mechanism released with a loud clack that echoed through the chamber. The handle turned from the other side, and Crina stepped out of the way as the door swung open. A tall, broad-shouldered man looked out from the brightly lit room beyond, though his cool countenance softened when he saw Crina.

  “Thank you for bringing them,” he told her.

  Even in the dim lighting of the pool cavern, Cristian could see the color rise to Crina’s cheeks. “I did as my voivode requested,” she demurred. “Bogdan, this is Daniel Putnam and his bodyguard, Joseph Billings. I’ll return for them when the audience is finished.”

  Atlas frowned slightly a
t the Romanian words, but didn’t complain about his lack of understanding. Cristian would have to catch him up on the conversation later.

  The man nodded and stepped aside, gesturing Cristian and Atlas forward, even as his gaze didn’t leave Crina’s retreating form. “Welcome. I am Bogdan, Voivode Mihai’s counselor. Crina is my co-counsel.”

  “Thank you both for helping us see Voivode Mihai on such short notice,” Cristian said, passing Atlas to step through the doorway first. Atlas probably wasn’t pleased by the move, but even if he was Cristian’s bodyguard, there were certain social rules at play here. If he’d allowed Atlas to go first, he’d either signal his distrust of his hosts, or show his inappropriate indulgence of a human. Neither was acceptable, especially without knowing more about the family’s views about humans.

  Bogdan led them to a door along the left wall. He entered the room before them, announcing, “Daniel Putnam and his bodyguard, Joseph Billings.”

  There was no turning back now. Cristian took a breath and followed Bogdan with a polite smile in place and Atlas like a warm shadow at his shoulder.

  Bogdan stepped aside, exposing them to the curious eyes of the Dunării family, who sat in a rough circle of high-backed, carved wooden chairs with comfortable looking cushions. Mihai was the central figure, a man of average height and build with a weathered, lined face and pale eyes that refused to give up any of his thoughts. Cosmina, his wife and blood-bonded partner, sat at his right. Her thick dark hair was drawn into a messy bun atop her head, and though she wasn’t smiling, the corners of her eyes still crinkled in welcome. Cristian was positive she was amused by his efforts at subterfuge.

  There was no sign of Radu, their eldest son, which was no surprise. As first in line for Mihai’s territory, Radu frequently traveled to oversee his father’s ispáns and ensure the whole territory ran smoothly. Ileana, Radu’s younger sister, sat at her father’s left hand instead.

  The last time Cristian had seen her, she had been too young and overwhelmed to speak a word to him. He wished his mother was with him, to coax a smile onto Ileana’s face like she had the last time their families visited together. He couldn’t mimic his mother’s natural warmth and caring nature, but he could still smile at the younger vampire and pray she didn’t remember him as the hormonal teenage ass he’d surely been.

  Her faint smile and slight nod gave him hope at least. It also made Atlas take a step closer, letting his hand brush against Cristian’s lower back in silent reminder he wasn’t about to face the family alone. Bogdan exited the family’s chambers, locking the door behind him to secure their privacy.

  Atlas’s presence didn’t extinguish the flicker of dread in Cristian’s gut, but knowing he was there, protecting Cristian in a new land with new threats, did comfort him enough to hold Mihai’s gaze and say, “Voivode Mihai, my father, Decebal Vladislavic, sends his gratitude for your hospitality. He is humbled by your promise of shelter and safe passage for the duration of this visit for his only son and his protector.”

  When Cristian was younger, Helias had coached him on all the diplomatic phrasing he might need if he inherited his father’s territory. It was another language, a throwback to the ancient rules established by the Council, but every time he had to use it, he got nervous. Humans didn’t care so much about those kinds of formalities. Wordplay, once revered, became a pretty way of making nice with a potential business partner; only legalese and formal documents could bind promises. But in the vampiric world, by Council law, such oaths were binding.

  The words Cristian spoke should secure him and Atlas safe passage during their stay, but that was only if Mihai acknowledged Decebal’s greeting. Everything—their safety and the answers they needed about the strigoi—hung on Mihai’s good will. If they failed now, the best Cristian could hope for was enough of a delay for him and Atlas to escape the nest at sundown, flee back to Bucharest on their own, and jump a flight to another territory. He would return home a failure to his father and to Atlas.

  “Cristian Slava, only son of my soldier Decebal, you and your protector are welcome in our home and territory for as long as you choose to stay,” Mihai intoned solemnly as he rose from his seat. The moment the formal recognition was made, the man broke into a toothy smile and held out his arms wide. “It has been too long since your father’s line returned home.”

  “Maybe next time I can convince him to come with me,” Cristian said, relief making him smile and move closer to hug Mihai, who exchanged kisses on each cheek with him. Atlas grunted, but didn’t step in to interfere, probably realizing they weren’t in immediate danger despite the lack of English. Cristian drew back once the exchange ended and gestured to Atlas. “Atlas, this is Mihai Dunării, the voivode of the territory.”

  Atlas stepped forward and offered Mihai his hand. “Sir,” he said as they shook, “thank you for allowing us to stay in your family’s territory.”

  “A pleasure,” Mihai told him. “Allow me to introduce my family. My beautiful wife, Cosmina, and my daughter, Ileana.”

  The women rose as they were introduced and came forward to politely greet Atlas first, then Cristian. Cosmina’s cheek still smelled of her homemade lemon facial cream and she breathed as deeply as Cristian did before they drew away. Her eyes were suspiciously damp as she took Cristian’s face in her hands and inspected him.

  “You’re wearing Angelica’s chamomile?” she asked him quietly.

  “I miss her,” he answered. It was the less complicated response. His mother had always favored chamomile oil over other scents, claiming it was bright enough to cut through the metallic tang of blood or dirt or any other unsavory aspect of their world. She was right, but the oil was also good for masking one’s scent from other vampires. After she died, Cristian had started wearing it because it reminded him of her scent, not the scent of her ashes as they lay scattered over the sheets of her sickbed. He wore it because it felt like she was still there, protecting him.

  “I understand, sweet child,” Cosmina said, a few tears spilling over her lashes and dotting her cheeks. She released Cristian’s face to wipe them away, and he excused himself from further discussion with his mother’s good friend by focusing on Ileana.

  “Hello, sprout,” he teased, deliberately switching languages to keep Atlas from feeling left out.

  Ileana made a face and pinched the back of his arm in retaliation. He hissed at the sharp, unexpected pain, and stepped back out of her reach, only to run into Atlas’s unmoving bulk. “You’re failing at your job,” he declared to Atlas, glaring at him over a shoulder.

  Atlas smirked. “You’ve been granted safe passage. She won’t do any permanent damage.”

  “Oh, I like you.” Ileana smiled brightly at Atlas. “How did Cristian ever convince you to follow around after him?”

  “His father offered me a lot of money,” Atlas told her bluntly. “Mr. Slava didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”

  Ileana glanced to Cristian. “He isn’t your donor? Fool. He’s gorgeous. I bet he tastes wonderful,” she said, ignoring her mother’s chuckle and her father’s weary sigh. “Tell him I treat my donors well.”

  “I won’t be telling him that, sprout. He’s under my protection during this trip, and my father would not approve of my loaning him out,” Cristian replied, flashing a hint of fang. Ileana pouted prettily, but didn’t argue.

  “If he’s interested though...” Ileana leaned around Cristian so she could stun Atlas with a brilliant smile.

  When he caught the hint of Atlas’s displeased scent, Cristian stepped between them, cutting off Ileana’s line of sight. “I’m afraid you and Radu will have to admire from afar.”

  Ileana’s expression transformed at the mention of her brother’s name. Cristian looked from her to Cosmina, who held on to the back of one of the chairs, her grip white-knuckled. Finally, he dared meet Mihai’s stormy gaze, surprised by the turmoil written across the
voivode’s expression.

  “Wait...where’s Radu?” he asked in English, worried enough he wanted Atlas to hear and understand the conversation.

  “Gone,” Mihai declared. Cristian was surprised by his willingness to allow an outsider to be privy to family business. Perhaps he considered Atlas’s role to be similar to the one Decebal had held long ago, which meant he would expect Atlas to hold the same level of loyalty to Cristian as Decebal had held to him and his family. Whatever the reason, Mihai invited Atlas to become part of the conversation, which meant Cristian could focus on the moment at hand.

  “Radu’s gone?” Cristian asked, confused.

  Atlas shifted at his back. He’d never told Atlas about Radu, about most of their world, but Atlas knew him, far more intimately than most. His confusion and concern would be huge red flags to the man.

  Cristian took a breath, trying to calm himself before continuing, “I can’t imagine he’d leave without telling you anything...” He trailed off as a new, worrying thought came to him. “Could he be—” He swallowed hard and looked askance at Cosmina.

  She read his worry as easily as his own mother once had. She gave a firm shake of her head. “My son lives,” she said.

  “We do not know for certain—” Mihai started between gritted teeth, only to be interrupted by Cosmina’s adamant, “He lives.”

  In the pained silence following the outburst, Ileana abandoned the new guests and returned to her mother’s side. She took Cosmina’s hand in hers and squeezed in a show of support. “Radu has been missing for more than a week. The ispáns have found no sign of him in any of their counties.”