There was a pregnant pause, then: “All right. You’re right. Do you have any more patient referrals for me besides what you’ve already e-mailed?” Gillian was gliding over the issue, not a good sign but it meant she was ready to pick herself up and move forward. They’d examine her feelings of failure later.
“Yes, there are one or two more.” Quickly he communicated the information to her, then remembering an earlier question, he added, “By the way, I think your idea to start a Ghost Group for Shattered Spirits is a good one. Some of them need to vent more than we can deal with due to time constraints on sessions. Hooking them up to have meetings several times a week might help ease their distress.”
“Great. As soon as I get my former lieutenant back here to help release the two Ghosts he spelled, I’ll get on it.”
“Be careful, Gillian. He is a Grael.”
“He is also my sworn friend. Blood oath, Helmut. He will do what he can.”
“I have no doubt. Just be careful. I will contact you soon.”
They concluded their call and hung up. Gillian focused back on her computer screen, pulling up a mapping site and mentally detailing a route to encompass her new local patients. It was difficult to find one which would afford some level of safety and keep Aleksei from bitching or having someone accompany her.
Aleksei had offered the smaller guest house where she had originally stayed as her temporary office. Gillian could see most of her newly acquired clients there but a couple of them were Ghosts who were bound to specific hauntings and she had to go to them. That didn’t sit well with Aleksei but the Egyptian Vampires had offered to bodyguard her when he was busy.
Reluctantly he had agreed, with Gillian gnashing her teeth over controlling Romanian nobles who were still living in the Dark Ages. He responded by sweeping her under his arm protectively, silvery eyes full of amusement, and kissing her senseless. Instead of blistering his ears with a barrage of inspired rhetoric, she’d let him have his moment of feeling in control. Maybe she was going soft. Nah.
Suddenly her e-mail beeped, bringing her back to the present. It was from Kimber, reporting that they had found Trocar and he was willing to spell himself there if she was intending to release Dante. He sent his apologies for not realizing what she intended; otherwise he would have returned to Romania with them in the first place. Kimber also mentioned that the instigator for the pedophile ring had been caught and was facing trial if they could keep him alive long enough. Gillian chuckled, happy that one more scumbag had been removed from society.
After shooting off a response to Kimber for Trocar to come as quickly as possible and thanking her for the update, she flipped her computer shut and set it aside, stretching and rubbing the back of her neck to clear the tension that had gathered there. At least their mission to Russia was something she could feel positive about. Everything else, well, she just didn’t know. This was the first time since she’d been a raw recruit that she’d felt so insecure about herself and her abilities. Irritated, she rose and paced the room for a moment. I’m a good psychologist, she thought. I can handle this. I can put things in perspective again.
She thought briefly about another woman she’d heard of in America: a legendary zombie raiser from Saint Louis who kept company with another Master Vampire. Gill wondered if that woman ever had doubts about herself and her abilities. Somehow she didn’t think so.
Wishing she could shake the feeling of dread that was creeping over her, she dressed to go out. If Trocar was as good a wizard as he claimed, he’d be there before too long. Catching a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror Aleksei kept in the bedroom, she eyed herself critically.
Same long blond hair, same green eyes that Aleksei and Anubis said were the color of the Nile, peaches and cream complexion despite her thirty years. She filled out the black sweater and olive green fatigues admirably for a woman on the back side of thirty. For the life of her, she couldn’t see what Aleksei saw in her. Gillian had no false modesty, she knew she was pretty enough. But her knowledge and experience with the Paramortal world told her that he had plenty of choices for stunning beauty. What he wanted with a short blonde with an equally short temper was puzzling.
“Perhaps it is your short temper which intrigues me and your lovely petite body which I desire pressed against me, piccola.” Aleksei’s voice stroked her soul and tightened her body through his mental link to her.
“Shut up,” she said affectionately, unconsciously straightening her sweater before grabbing the bag that held Dante and Grace, then heading out the door. Aleksei was one of the things she worried about. Now that she was back, in his home, in his domain, and in the beginnings of a relationship with him, her fear of commitment was a shadow in the back of her mind. What if it was like Tanis? What if they were bound together only because of circumstance? What if she got in too deep, then discovered she didn’t want this?
“You are thinking too much again, bellissima. We will get through this together but you will not run from it.” He sounded very dominant, very sure of himself, very male.
“Stop being bossy or I will walk out that door.” Her counterstatement was just as dominant, just as aggressive, and she pushed the heat of her irritation through it. His voice was so pure and wonderful she half wanted to give him her word but his alpha nature grated on her equally alpha nerves.
Aleksei fell silent. Not necessarily a good sign, but she ignored it and went down the stone stairs toward the foyer to see if Trocar would show up. Along the passageway a painting caught her eye. It hadn’t been there earlier, she was sure. Frowning, she drew closer. Eyes widened in surprise as she saw the subject matter.
It was a painting of herself, in the green dress she’d worn her last night in the Castle as she left to go rescue Tanis. The detail was incredible, the image lifelike and warm. What pissed her off was that the image was lying on the bed in the master suite she’d just vacated. The eyes were liquid and filled with need, legs bare of hosiery or shoes, skirt almost indecently draped over her thighs. The painting was of her, of a woman waiting for her lover and knowing beyond any doubt that he would come.
“Aleksei is quite talented, is he not?” The new deep male voice startled her, and she spun to find Anubis admiring the painting with her.
“Goddammit, I have told you people not to sneak up on me like that!” Gillian shoved the Egyptian Vampire hard enough for him to step back.
Black eyes crinkled at the corners and the breathtaking Lord of the Underworld laughed in his remarkable voice. “Little sister, you are not angry about the painting, you are angry about your insecurity in your feelings for Aleksei.”
“Is that so?” Gillian practically snarled. She was damn tired of everyone who was older and possibly wiser than she was telling her what she was thinking and feeling. “Maybe I’m just pissed off that he’s got me looking like . . . like . . .” Words failed her and she gestured at the painting. “That!”
Anubis chucked her under her chin. “You look like a woman in love, Gillian. That is what bothers you. That it is obvious to everyone but yourself.” Still chuckling, he left her fuming in the hallway.
CHAPTER 15
DEEP breaths, that was the key. Breathe and focus. There. That was better. Gillian leashed her anger with effort. In love? With Aleksei? Desire, definitely; lust, oh hell yes; but love? Not even going to go there. She stomped down the rest of the stairs, laid the Ghost sack next to the door, then grumpily crawled into one of the window seats to simmer and wait for the Grael Elf.
“Gill?” Jenna’s dulcet voice sifted through her chaotic thoughts.
“What?”
The warmth of Jenna’s hand moved over her shoulder, “Thanks for bringing me here. I really like Tanis.”
“I’m delighted.”
“Gill, it’s not a problem, is it? I mean, me and Tanis together?”
Gillian turned to look at her. “Of course not. Why would that be a problem? You and Tanis are grown. He’s just really old, that’s all.�
�� She grinned at her friend, not wanting to take out her mood on others.
Jenna grinned back. “Okay, I just wanted to make sure.” There was a moment’s pause. “Aleksei is really good to you too. I’ve watched him, and it’s nice to see you really happy.”
With a final pat, Jenna sauntered off to find Tanis. Gillian was left with her insecurity until she felt Aleksei’s presence in the hallway.
“Not now, Aleksei. I need to think.”
Ignoring her, he moved to wrap his arms around her smaller form, pulling her against his chest and lightly kissing the top of her head. “You need to stop being afraid, piccola.”
She turned and shoved him back, giving her room to hop off the window seat and poke him in the chest. “Afraid of what? I have been in situations all my life that were frightening, Aleksei. I don’t need some wiseass fossil from the Old World to tell me what to think or feel.”
Something flared for a moment in his ice gray eyes then it was gone, replaced by a simmering anger that he let her see. An eyebrow rose. Fossil? The little twerp had just called him a fossil. And here he’d been prepared to be understanding and patient.
“Fossil?” he repeated. “Perhaps Tanis was correct about you being in need of better manners.” His voice dropped an octave, reverberating through her, making her shivery and damp. She was half his size and was tilting her head back to meet his metallic gaze. Unfortunately she didn’t look very intimidated.
“Really? I would like to see you try,” she snapped.
Aleksei moved forward, crowding her, intending to kiss some sense into her, when the front door unceremoniously slammed open. Aleksei moved with blurring speed, putting Gillian behind him as she struggled to do the same for him. He was bigger and stronger so he won. Gill settled for swearing at him as his arm held her back.
A familiar tall, dark and amazingly beautiful Grael Elf glided through the door, brushing sparks and ash off his cloak and cursing, from the blistering tone in his voice, in some unknown language. Iridescent colorless eyes, like living diamonds, lifted to meet Aleksei’s stormy gray ones, then dropped to the small blonde who was attempting to strong-arm the Vampire into letting her around him, knife drawn.
“Good evening, Count Rachlav and the fair Gillyflower.” The Elf’s voice was lovely but carried irritation. “How nice of you to invite me for a visit.” Now he was being sarcastic.
“Welcome, Elf,” Aleksei politely offered. “I trust you will keep this young lady out of harm’s way when you go with her to release the Ghost.” The Vampire thought this was a routine release. Gillian hadn’t enlightened him as to Dante’s sexual escapades.
Trocar’s eyes widened and he looked at Gillian, who shoved Aleksei again. “Goddammit, move!” She gave up trying to get past Aleksei’s arm and simply ducked under it, moving to Trocar and pinning Aleksei with a furious glare.
“Of course, with my last breath, I will protect her. Not that I have noticed that she needs protecting, mind you,” Trocar said, quite seriously.
Gillian shot him a grateful look and gave Aleksei another scathing one. “Let’s go, Trocar. The sooner we get this over with, the better.” Snatching up the bag with the two Ghosts, she marched out the door without so much as glancing at Aleksei, looking very much taller than her five foot two inches, all fire and fury.
Aleksei’s eyes followed her as he said half to Trocar, half to himself, “I love her and want to understand her, but I find myself torn between wanting to cherish her such as she deserves or simply putting her across my knee for how she behaves.” He raked a hand through his long hair. “In a manner consistent for a fossil of my time period,” he muttered as an afterthought.
Choking back a laugh with an undignified cough, Trocar replied, “She has been known to bring that type of confusion to males of many species, Vampire. It is a gift of hers, really.” Trocar flipped a mock salute toward Aleksei, then with a swirl of still smoldering cape, was gone out the door after Gillian, leaving Aleksei swearing eloquently under his breath.
Trocar caught up with Gillian as she reached the car. Beside them and in the woods surrounding the property, Cezar’s Wolves kept watch. The Elf’s outstanding arrival had been enough to convince all of them that he was a force to be reckoned with; seeing him with an obviously annoyed Gillian clarified that thought further.
Pavel loped up to greet Gillian, who discovered that Werewolves didn’t come with brakes as accessories, as Pavel squished her against the car. “Down boy,” she groused, grinning a little, unable to keep her thoughts in the dark and angry range with the sight of the pony-sized Wolf backpedaling so he didn’t crush her too badly. Pavel bounced away in a very unscary-like manner, earning him a nip on his flanks from Cezar for his antics.
Gillian called to the Alpha Wolf. “Cezar, we’re going to a client’s home. Trocar here is a friend and with me. Please don’t shred him if he is out alone.” Still grinning, she got into the car, waving cheerfully, and drove off with the Dark Elf.
The ride went smoothly. Trocar wasn’t much for small talk and confined himself to noticing the countryside and the beauty of the little village by night. Gillian chatted a bit about how she wanted to handle Dante’s release but he wasn’t really listening. He was looking for signs of magic—of Fey, Elf or Fairy influence. Gillian’s questions to him in Russia had left him wondering who or what could be behind the creation of a dampening field. The wizard in him was simply curious. The friend in him wanted to make sure it wasn’t switched back on if there was going to be a fight. He noted some things near the castle that he intended to investigate later. For now, he turned his mind back to releasing the Ghost and deciding how to punish him for what Dante had done to Gillian.
Boganskaya Castle loomed dark and foreboding as they pulled up in front. There was an uneasiness in the air as if it missed its resident haunter. Arkady Boganskaya, the owner, greeted them at the door. Gillian briefed him on Dante’s activities and broke the news that the Ghost needed to be reunified with his haunt. Arkady looked so sad for a moment that she wanted to hug him but checked herself and patted his arm instead. “I’m sorry, Arkady, but Dante belongs here. If we dissociate a spirit from their haunt unwillingly, it’s the same as murder.”
The viability of Ghosts had been established through years of research by the Institute of the Ectoplasm and they were viewed as still living, noncorporeal organisms. Unfortunately most of their research had been centered around whether or not a Ghost constituted a living being. There still wasn’t enough research being done on the things a Ghost actually could or couldn’t do if it chose.
Arkady agreed with minimal argument. He’d missed Dante a little and his guests complained about staying in a falsely advertised haunted castle. He was afraid that Dante would be vengeful after leaving then being held in stasis and didn’t want them back to square one on the Ghost’s therapy. On that, Gillian agreed but they had to release him so they had to take their chances with Dante’s not-so-forgiving nature.
Trocar followed Gillian to Dante’s hallway. The Italian mercenary swordsman had been murdered here, six hundred years before, in an ambush. His Ghost had inhabited the stones of this castle ever since, and not pleasantly, until Gillian had been called in as his therapist.
Dante had been seemingly making progress, while concealing his growing obsession with Gillian. He had sexually used her more than once, leaving his haunt to track her to Castle Rachlav and beyond, an ability unknown to Ghosts but due to his inherently magic Grael Elf heritage. It was only Pavel’s intervention that had brought Dante’s duplicity to her attention and stopped it with Gillian’s, then Trocar’s, binding of the cunning Ghost.
Trocar helped Gillian prepare a makeshift altar on the small table she used whenever she needed to call Dante. White cloth, a copper plate, incense, willow oil; Trocar added his own implements: crumbled nettle, fennel and garlic, all for protection and banishing. He also slipped in some dragon’s blood and yarrow to increase the power of what he was about to do and to e
ffectively put a stop to Dante’s sexual predation. After they released the Ghost, he would have seconds to bind him.
As a Grael Elf, Trocar was honor bound to put a stop to this abomination. He would have destroyed Dante outright but Gillian had intervened, insisting that the Ghost needed further therapy and the opportunity to get past his crime. Trocar thought he needed to be castrated at least. Gillian wanted restitution. Small difference of opinion.
Taking the stones that contained the Ghost out of the bag and brushing the salt from them, Gillian placed them toward the end of the hallway and away from the two of them. She had some skill as a minor spellcaster, like calling, binding and some healing, but she was nowhere in Trocar’s league.
A full Grael wizard, the Dark Elf was a force to be reckoned with on anyone’s terms. He had a deeply rooted streak of pure malice; all Grael did. But like all Elves, Grael were people of their word: honorable, noble and lawful. Serving with Gillian and her multicultured detachment had given him a deeply rooted respect for his former Captain. They were “declared friends” via a Blood Oath, which was the closest translation from Elvish in regard to a lifelong vow of friendship. So they would remain until her death or unless she betrayed him, which Trocar found to be unlikely.
He waited until Gillian placed the stones then walked back to stand next to him before beginning. “Trocar, just what we spoke of, no more.” Her voice sounded loud in the deserted, cold hallway.
Iridescent, crystalline eyes riveted her way and soft layered waves of wondrous crystal white hair shifted over his shoulders as he looked down at her. “Gillyflower, I swore to assist you. I shall do what I came here to do.” He gave voice almost as well as Aleksei. Too bad she knew he was full of shit.
Gillian sighed, knowing she would get no more assurances from him. “Okay, just don’t destroy him.”
Key to Conspiracy Page 18
