Key to Conspiracy

by Talia Gryphon

  The gunfire spun the woman around, but didn’t stop her as she recovered and went straight for Claire. Scotland Yard apparently needed silver-tipped ammo as standard issue for the Paramortal Vice Squad. Trocar got there first; fortunately his blade was sterling silver. The stiletto flashed as he delivered several lethal blows to the woman’s midsection. She folded like a lawn chair and he dropped the corpse at his feet, turning back to meet several Vampires who swept in with preternatural speed.

  “Trocar!” Gillian yelled, helpless to prevent what was about to happen. She agonizingly rose from her position on top of Jenna, jerking away from one friend in her haste to get to another who was about to die. Tariq and Charles barreled around the corner—evidently they’d heard the commotion—knocking her flat again. Zuberi had Dahlia and Helmut on the floor, covering them as much as possible with his own body.

  Dahlia was screaming bloody murder since this was an occasion that called for it. Two dead agents and a dead woman were lying in a red lake two inches from her delicate nose. Zuberi was suddenly on his feet, meeting the charge of two newly arrived Vampires, while Helmut and Dahlia were crawling away with record speed toward Gillian and Jenna.

  Trocar was locked in mortal combat with one of their attackers. The Vampire was shorter but much stronger than the Elf. From where Gillian was lying, it looked like Trocar was about to be torn to pieces as he fought to keep the creature’s fangs from his throat. Tariq shifted abruptly into an enormous Barbary Lion, pieces of his clothing fluttering away like butterflies and body slammed the Vampire away from the Dark Elf. Pavel appeared out of nowhere already in Wolf form, knocking another enemy Vampire off Zuberi.

  “Dr. Key, how terribly rude of you to leave before we had a chance to chat.”

  Jack’s voice was closer than it had been, Gill realized as she struggled to her feet, her face draining of color as she looked toward his voice. Her nemesis was standing rather close to her, away from the actual fray. This was very, very bad.

  Jack was dressed in black again, no doctor togs this time. He was at once familiar yet not, his ability to shift and blur his visage like a chameleon keeping her from forming a clear picture of him in her mind, but his eyes were the same. Rust brown, an eerie cinnamon color—they were sickeningly familiar.

  “Jenna, get out of here,” she ordered her friend.

  “Come on, run! We can make it!” Jenna yanked on her arm, trying to pull her away.

  “No,” Gillian said flatly. “No, we can’t.”

  There was nowhere to go. Trocar, Pavel, Tariq and Zuberi were now all fighting for their lives, Helmut was pulling Dahlia back toward them; Brant and Claire had emptied their clips, reloaded and were still firing ineffective bullets at the Vampires while Charles was plastered up against the wall, watching the entire scene in abject horror.

  “You are quite right, my dear.” Jack smiled and moved suddenly so that he was around the fighters and much closer to Gillian. “I am afraid that you have been terribly naughty, escaping from the hospital as you did. You must be punished.”

  “Real brave of you, Jack, coming after me when I’m less than forty-eight hours post-op. Must be a real kick to feel superior to a wounded Human.” Gillian was scared out of her mind but she wasn’t about to let him see that she was about to throw up or faint.

  He tsk’d at her. “Now, my dear girl, you really should learn not to bait your betters. I do not have any reason to fear you, healthy or injured. I do have reason to want to see you suffer.”

  Gill really thought she might barf then. Jack was way too close to her and his diseased psyche was leaking all over her empathy. Fighting down nausea, she backed up, trying to put more furniture in between them, like that might actually help. She heard a body hit the floor but couldn’t take the time to turn her head to see who it was. Panic was fluttering at the edge of her mind. If saving her friends meant surrendering to Jack . . . she just didn’t know if she could do it.

  Rust-colored eyes locked with her green ones. Jack wanted her. She could guess why, knowing the quality and length of her life would be shot to hell after he got hold of her. Still, if she went with him, her friends would be safe. Injured and sick as she was, she couldn’t stand the thought of Jenna, Dahlia or Claire being butchered by the sexual sadist. Gill was a lot of things but a coward wasn’t one of them. Yeah, she could do it. She wouldn’t like it but she could do it.

  “Let them all go and—” She didn’t get to finish the sentence as an unearthly bellowing howl split the air. Everyone turned toward the sound, even Jack, whose own face paled at the sight of Charles Chastel shifting into his blighted form. Curse or not, Charles was reacting as any Shifter would when under great duress. Strong emotions could trigger a change and there were few stronger emotions than stark terror.

  Dahlia shrieked and nearly climbed up Helmut like a tree, trying to get away from the sight of her husband becoming a Loup-Garou before her eyes. Helmut seemed to agree with her assessment of the situation and tried to climb the wall closest to him. Both of them collided with Claire and Brant, who suddenly developed survival skills of their own and were backpedaling away from the gargantuan beast suddenly in their midst.

  The Loup-Garou rushed forward, sinking its formidable teeth into the nearest pelvis, which happened to belong to one of Jack’s Vampire friends. The fanged one screamed as the beast wrenched its head, tearing away one leg like confetti from a piñata. Zuberi threw himself as far from the beast as he could, watching with the rest of them as it began shredding the Vampire into mincemeat.

  Tariq and Pavel, both massive beasts in their own right, still backed away from the prehistoric Wolf as it rounded on Zuberi and the remaining Vampire that Jack had brought with him. Its sheer body mass dwarfed both the Wolf and the Lion.

  Trocar frantically signaled Pavel as their friend moved parallel to Jack. The Werewolf saw what the Elf wanted and lunged, his body weight shoving Jack away from Gillian’s immediate vicinity. Leverage, surprise and Pavel’s heavy lupine shoulder sent the serial killer skidding toward the snarling Loup-Garou. Being a Master Vampire besides a sick twist, Jack managed to keep his feet, twisting to right himself then backing away from the creature as Pavel ran like hell toward his grouped friends.

  Helmut, Gillian, Jenna and Dahlia were collectively moving backward toward the kitchen followed by Claire, Brant, Trocar and lastly Pavel. The Loup-Garou had Zuberi, Jack and the other Vampire cornered. It was stalking them almost leisurely.

  Gillian had a unique flash of satisfaction as she saw the Ripper’s eyes widen in fear as the Loup-Garou approached, jaws dripping saliva and blood. It was momentous watching the infamous serial killer looking literally into the jaws of death. The other Vampire was too frightened to do anything but scream as the beast pounced then tore into its midsection.

  Zuberi took the opportunity to yell at them all to “get the hell out of there,” as he blurred toward them, but he wasn’t fast enough. The Loup-Garou plucked him out of the air like a parakeet and bit down. Jack closed his eyes, not daring to move with the Loup-Garou so close, splashing Zuberi’s blood on his polished shoes. It was as if he were communing with something. As he opened them, there was a flash of triumph in their rusty depths and a glint of white as he smiled. He was calling for help. She could feel it.

  “Run! He’s calling for reinforcements!” Gillian yelled at anyone who would listen.

  On cue, more Vampires and Shifters poured into the house through the front door and went straight for the feeding Loup-Garou. No one wanted to see how everything turned out so they all dashed out the back door, as best as they could. Trocar plunked Gillian on Tariq and Jenna on Pavel’s back, picked Dahlia up in his arms and ran for the tree line, the Werewolf and Werelion passing him easily in their mad rush for safety.

  Helmut, Claire and Brant were close on their heels. Nobody needed to glance behind to know they were being followed. One of the newly arrived Shifters howled ferociously as Jack’s troops poured from the door, sprinting to
ward them. There was the possibility the new Vampires and Shifters were only fleeing from Charles . . . Nah.

  The group made it to the trees, where Dahlia pointed to a large oak several meters away; Trocar obediently carried her there. The Fey tapped on the trunk of the majestic tree. There was a creaking, grinding sound and the tree’s bark peeled back swiftly, revealing a dark hole. Nobody was crazy about the idea of trying to cram inside a tree but Trocar melted into the darkness so they followed anyway.

  The dark entry was forbidding but no worse than the scene they’d just left inside the manor house. As she stepped inside after slithering off Pavel’s back, Gill could feel the wall of wood surrounding her and a step downward. She hobbled down, grasping Jenna’s hand instinctively and following Dahlia wherever she would lead them. The howls and snarls of their pursuers were coming ever closer.

  CHAPTER 12

  ONCE they were all inside, the bark closed behind them, sealing off the approaching hunters, who clawed and beat ineffectively at the seamless tree trunk. Inside, the hewn steps curved down and around, opening into a chamber that glowed softly with some type of luminescent lighting. Gillian couldn’t tell what it was but the various lantern-like globes hovering around the room gave off a warm rosy glow.

  Everything in the chamber was crafted from the living wood of the tree. Furniture, floor, walls, ceiling were all permanently placed and part of the tree itself. Fairy magic had crafted the dwelling; form and function harmonized with nature’s purity. It would have been more impressive if they’d had time or inclination to appreciate it but they had an unknown number of Vampires and Shifters after them. While the Vampires would be forced to leave close to sunrise or shortly afterward, depending on their respective ages, the Shifters would be an issue to contend with as they were not bound by daylight. Jack also might have allies in the Fairy sector, who could conceivably open tree trunks. Gillian wasn’t sure anyone wanted to contemplate that particular issue at that particular time so she kept her mouth shut.

  “We’re trapped.” Gillian was close to hyperventilating and very pissed off at herself. She was a trifle claustrophobic on a good day. Besides, being wounded, rattled, shaky, hurt and perplexed by her own professional conduct on a scale of once or twice a minute instead of once or twice an hour made her cranky. Logically, she knew she had an excuse. Idealistically, she knew she could have handled everything better if she’d been able to rest quietly in a hospital bed without the threat of a serial killer stalking her across Western Europe. Realistically, she wanted to have five minutes in a locked room with Dracula, Jack and a handheld thermonuclear device.

  “Non,” Dahlia whispered in her breathy voice. “The tree is spelled from within. Only one of my people can open it.”

  “What if he has one of your people up there?” Gillian understandably wanted to know.

  “That’s not funny,” Jenna gasped as she sagged against the wall and slid down, rubbing her injured leg.

  Trocar moved back toward the entry area. “No, it is not, but it is a possibility. We do not know who or what is allied with Dracula’s forces. The very fact that Jack stalked Gillian to a remote area of France suggests that he has a sophisticated network of operatives or spies.”

  “Who the bloody hell have you pissed off, Doctor?” Brant was pale as he reloaded his pistol.

  “Lord Dracula,” Gill said tiredly. “But I didn’t actually piss him off. I’m allied with some folks who did, so he’s after me as a bargaining chip along with a host of other Paramortal affiliates. The nutcase up there”—she pointed up toward the surface—“is an unfortunate acquaintance from London and the one who is ultimately responsible for your prostitute murders; both the recent ones and the ones back in eighteen eighty-eight. I was under the effects of Pixie venom when last we met and sort of insulted him.”

  “You insulted a sexual sadist Vampire serial killer and you didn’t think that was an important detail to share with Scotland Yard?” Brant was clearly not happy.

  “Hey, it’s not like you would have believed her,” Jenna defended her friend.

  “It wasn’t my fault!” Gillian insisted.

  “Can we please focus on our immediate situation?” Helmut suggested.

  “The situation where we’ve just run inside of a tree because a variety of Paramortal persons of interest are clamoring outside to rip our faces off, kidnap Gillian and in general make our lives interesting . . . in the ancient Chinese curse sense of the word ‘interesting’? That situation? Sure.” Jenna was being snarky. Gill chalked it up to the pressures of the moment. Everyone else glared at her.

  Tariq evidently had his own opinions as he shifted back from Lion form. “I understand that you could not have known that this killer was on your trail, Dr. Key; however, I have three dead or dying colleagues in that house and that is a fact.”

  Dahlia wordlessly handed him a wrap to cover himself with. He was as naked as the re-Human Pavel, who also gratefully took a gauzy-looking coverlet and secured it around his waist for modesty.

  “I know, Tariq. And I am sorry. If I had any idea Jack was stalking me, I would have warned your Team.” Gill was biting her lip and very pale.

  “I am sure of that, but I need to let Interpol know.” Tariq asked for Brant’s BlackBerry and quickly sent an e-mail to his superiors. Gillian followed his example with a hastily worded report to the IPPA and Daedelus Aristophenes. After a moment’s hesitation, she e-mailed Aleksei, telling him only that she, Jenna and Helmut had been injured in London but would return as soon as possible. Claire and Brant collectively sent word to Scotland Yard. Within a few hours the area would be crawling with agents of varying organizations. Hopefully they would manage a dragnet to snare Jack and a few of his followers.

  They were able to track the time with Brant’s cell phone and Helmut’s watch so they settled down to get what rest they could. Gillian was looking decidedly improved when they all woke several hours later. Trocar had been able to use his healing skills on Helmut, Jenna and herself. While the Grael’s therapeutic abilities were extraordinary, he needed time, reagents and his subjects in a healing trance to effect a true restoration to health.

  Cautiously they ascended the internal stairs, allowing Dahlia room to open the tree again. They were met by twenty-some agents, male and female, both Human and Paramortal. Everyone had gotten the message. There was even a platoon of Black Watch soldiers intermixed with the Interpol and Scotland Yard personnel. The area around the estate was secure as was the manor itself, which was taped off with miles of yellow crime-scene tape. A tent with sort of a mobile command center had been erected near the edge of the woods where Gillian and company had been ensconced.

  Debriefing everyone took most of the day and a good portion of the evening. There were at least eleven recorded enemy deaths, including the female Shifter who had initially invited Jack into the house and the ones the Loup-Garou had chewed up. One of the French Interpol agents came down from Chastel Manor to inform them that other than the three agents, two of the Chastels’ staff, and Zuberi, Charles was also among the deceased.

  After sorting through the official report, adding their group’s analysis to the chain of events, it was determined that after he had survived the initial invasion of his home, managing to hold Jack at bay long enough for the others to get away, he had followed the attackers into the field where their group had fled. When the troops showed up, the Loup-Garou had been indiscriminately vivisecting anything living in the field.

  Seeing a prehistoric, bison-sized Wolf mangling everyone within reach of its massive jaws had resulted in a hail of silver-tipped gunfire. Charles had been killed on the grounds of his estate, his body reverting back to its Human form in death. Since none of the agents and officers had seen a Loup-Garou before, the body had been removed for autopsy quickly, to make certain he had attained true death.

  Dahlia was inconsolable at first. Gillian sat with her, talking softly, offering what comfort she could. Grief counseling was just part and p
arcel of her training. A lot of her clients had issues with loss and angst, particularly those who had trouble with their newly reborn or evolved state. She stayed with the Fey woman all evening, waving off Trocar and Helmut, who were perched over them, in favor of allowing Dahlia privacy in which to grieve for her husband. Charles had gotten what he wanted: death by cop, but on a grander scale than he could have imagined.

  A Fey representative from Scotland Yard came to visit with Dahlia so Gillian excused herself and went to find her little group. Helmut and Jenna were happily eating croissants and drinking coffee at a small table in another part of the large tent. Trocar, Brant and Claire were chatting with a knot of personnel at another table. Pavel was being examined by a medic to make certain he hadn’t been seriously injured in his scuffle with the Vampires and the Loup-Garou.

  Gill got herself some coffee and a beignet, grateful that she was able to perform even that small task for herself without someone hovering over her. She staggered off, exhausted, beverage and pastry in hand, for a quick bite and a cigarette; then, finding a cot, she flopped down on it to get a few hours of sleep in safety. Another night on the grounds ensued. There were a lot of loose ends to tie up before Etienne Bonaly, the senior Interpol agent in charge, was willing to let everyone go. When Gillian awoke, she was advised of current events.

  The Fey Inspector had contacted the Twilight Court from which Dahlia had originated. They were only too happy to offer a helping hand to their brethren, and Dahlia was far too fragile to object. She would be met in Rouen by an escort of her own people, then taken to their lands for healing and recovery. No one wanted Dahlia to die of a broken heart, not even Dahlia it seemed. She agreed to go with her people, choosing life over following Charles into death. Gillian spoke to her and praised her choice for living. It was what Charles had wanted, after all.