The Vampire And The Highland Empath

by Clover Autrey

  Alex’s head snapped up, lines of worry creasing his forehead. His troubled gaze sought Edeen before lowering his eyes back to his task. “Just hang on. I’ve got this.”

  Jaw clenched, Roque nodded, putting all his trust in his friend and Edeen’s heart went out to these two men.

  Beads of perspiration broke out across Alex’s brow. A muscle in his cheek jumped every time Roque flinched, though his hands remained steady.

  And Roque…low tremors rolled through his body. Steam lifted from his hot flesh as though fire burned from within. His head rocked side-to-side along the wall, yet he remained as still as he could bear. The amount of endurance and trust Roque showed was stunning.

  His breathing grew shallow, ragged. Edeen squeezed his hand in an attempt to anchor him. She wished Charity was here.

  “Got it,” Alex gritted out. “Elusive little bugger.” He twisted the blade, blood-coated fingers up to the last knuckles within the wound.

  Roque sucked in a breath between his teeth, every muscle stiff as a plank.

  He screamed as Alex pulled a hissing glowing oblong bit of bloodied metal from his flesh and immediately went limb, losing his hold on consciousness.

  “Whoa, whoa.” Alex tried to steady Roque without letting the bullet touch his skin.

  “I have him.” Edeen drew Roque’s head and shoulders into her lap. “What is that?” She gestured toward the small piece of iron Alex pulled from Roque’s side.

  “The bullet?” He frowned at it for a moment before putting in a pocket sewn into the sides of his breeches. “It’s trouble.”

  He glanced about the cave. “I need something to stop the bleeding.”

  “Here.” Edeen eased Roque’s head from her lap and got to her feet. She reached behind her back to loosen the cross ties of her gown. ‘Twas wet and cumbersome anyway, though if her brothers caught her traipsing about in only her underskirts, well, that couldn’t be helped at the moment. She shimmied out of it and let the heavy material drop to the ground. Shivers prickled her skin through the lighter fabric of her chemise. “Give me the knife.”

  “Your skirts?” Alex held the knife to her hilt first, his gaze averted to her feet, one bared. She’d lost both slippers and a stocking in the sea.

  She looked down at herself, at the way the thin wet material clung to her, revealing her skin beneath. Her brothers would be furious with her, which brought a touch of warmth to her chest, imaging their ire, knowing it would never last as far as she was concerned. She took the blade and began cutting into the gown, ripping out a strip that she immediately pressed to Roque’s wound. His head rolled to the side and his features screwed up in pain.

  Alex took the knife and began cutting the bottom of her gown into more strips.

  “Ye were going to tell me of this bull-et.”

  “I was?” Alex’s tone was as flat as an anvil’s head.

  Edeen arched a brow, tired of evasive answers.

  Alex’s lips pulled down and he nodded, seeming to come to a decision. Twisting, he grabbed something out of his long bag and held it out for her to see. “Okay, then. Modern weaponry in a jiff. This is a gun.”

  Edeen nodded at the odd shaped black metal. It had an obvious handle and a short hollow shaft. Alex yanked a thin box out from the handle and took a pointed oval silver piece from within and held it up to her. “This is a bullet. One of these was shot into Roque.”

  “From this gun.” She ran a finger along the gun’s stock, imagining how the little silver bullet fit perfectly within the hollowed inside. “Shot like an arrow?”

  The corner of Alex’s lip lifted. “Similar. No strings, but a small explosion in this chamber here, propels the bullet forward.”

  Edeen nodded, getting the concept, but not liking it. ‘Twould require little skill or strength to use these weapons. “Those men on the cliffs, they used these guns upon us.”

  “Yes.”

  “Theirs were longer.”

  Again, Alex nodded. “Rifles.”

  “Ri-fuls,” Edeen tested the new word, her stomach queasy. “This bull-et that found Roque… ‘tis different.”

  Alex’s eyes went hard. He lifted the little piece of metal like it offended him. “Engineered especially to take Roque down.”

  She withdrew the fabric to inspect Roque’s wound. The bleeding had lessened quite a bit. In fact the skin around the edges already seemed less rough, as though they were smoothing together. She’d witnessed ruined flesh knit together a few times before, but only under the hands of a Healer Sorceress.

  “What is Roque?”

  Alex looked away, troubled. He wiped the blood from his hands.

  “I know he’s more than human,” she added. A muscle twitched in Alex’s cheek at his slight half-grin. “You figured that out on your own?”

  “Alex.”

  The grin slid away as though it never existed. “That’s Roque’s place to tell.”

  She was about to argue that point when Alex curled his hand and grimaced, The tips of his fingers were white as though burned, before the point of blistering. She grabbed his hand. “What’s happened?”

  He tried to pull back. “Nothing.”

  “Ye’ve burned them.” She scowled. “The bull-et?”

  Her breath hitched when he wouldn’t answer. She looked down at the sweat dotting Roque’s skin. She’d thought the heat pouring off him was fever. “His blood burns?”

  “No, it’s not hot enough, but—“

  “Deep inside, he boils.” Edeen mulled that over. “And ye knew that.”

  Alex shrugged and pulled his hand from hers. “He needed that bullet out.” Taking a small flat flask from the bag, Alex poured what looked like water over his hand.

  A lump formed in her throat. “Here, let me see.” Edeen took one of the smaller strips he’d made from her gown.

  “I’ve got it.” He grabbed the fabric out of her hand. “I’m medically trained. I can handle it.” Ah, male pride she was all too familiar with.

  She nodded, and folded another piece of her gown into a square, which she placed against Roque’s wound, holding it there while she used another length to wrap around his torso to keep it in place. Roque’s brows pulled together in sleep. Undergoing a healing from a Healer Sorceress was sometimes more of an ordeal than the original hurt. She wondered if whatever was happening inside Roque’s body was equally as painful. She glanced sidewise at Alex, who was wrapping his burned hands, wiggling his fingers to make sure he hadn’t gotten the makeshift bandages too tight. “Tell me who these people after us are. Please, Alex. That man—he has hurt Roque before, hasn’t he?”

  He didn’t answer for a while. He tied off his knot and then picked up the gun, all traces of softness gone. He replaced the bullet and clicked the little box back into the handle. Instead of returning it to the bag, he slipped the gun into the waist at the back of his breeches.

  He wasn’t going to tell her and Edeen suspected she knew why.

  “I know this is no longer my time.”

  Alex’s gaze locked on her face, stunned.

  She gave him a brave smile, though his expression confirmed her fears. She tied a knot in Roque’s bandage, hoping Alex didn’t notice how bad her hands were shaking.

  Alex nodded. “We’re at war.”

  “The Chieftains?”

  He smiled kindly and shook his head. “It’s larger than that. Many countries are involved.”

  She nodded for him to go on.

  “Scotland and England are allies.”

  “Allied with you English?”

  “Turns out we have a greater common enemy.”

  “The men on the cliff.”

  “Nazis. They seek to subjugate all of Europe beneath their rule.”

  Edeen sensed there was much much more to it that Alex wasn’t going into. Anger poured off of him. She flicked her senses out, seeking some semblance of her lost gift. “That man who leaped from the cliff. He is a Nazi?”

  Alex’s lips went light. �
��The worst kind. He’s a leader in the Schutzstaffel, the SS—Hitler’s personal police force.” He stopped himself, searching for words familiar to her. “The Nazi leader’s personal guard. His task is to gather those of rare supernatural ability to use—“

  “As weapons,” she finished. This Hitler’s goal was not far different from what Aldreth intended. The witch sought to use Toren, and by extension their entire clan through him, to increase her magical strength.

  “This Geschopf is after Roque.”

  “He’s been after Roque a long time.”

  Because Roque’s magical talent is rare.

  “He captured him before,” Alex’s voice sounded like soft steps walking on gravel. “Did terrible things. Roque won’t speak of it.”

  A fierce protectiveness surged inside Edeen’s bosom. “Yet he exposed himself to the Nazis to come after me.”

  “He was the only one who could.”

  Edeen swept her hand up to the puncture wounds at her neck.

  “We couldn’t allow an empath as powerful as yourself to get into Nazi hands.”

  “I understand.” She did. Shaw had been willing to take their entire clan to the Shadowrood to keep their magic from being tainted by the witch, and thereafter tainting the world. An ache shimmered behind her eyes at knowing Roque thought of her as little more than a weapon to be kept from this Hitler and how he’d laughed when she’d told him she no longer felt her gift. And if it came back? What would he do with her then?

  It wouldn’t matter. She’d seek out a sorcerer to send her back to her own time where she belonged.

  “I understand what this Hitler wants of me, but what of you? What do you and Roque expect of me?”

  Alex looked away. His Adam’s apple jumped in his throat, and then nodding to himself as though he came to a decision, his gaze cut back to her. “We’re not as sinister as that, I promise you.” His lips twisted downward. “I work with military intelligence. That means nothing to you.” He shook his head. “It’s my job to intercept messages being relayed between our enemies.”

  “So you capture couriers?”

  He smiled. “Not exactly. We have machines that are able to transmit messages through the air.”

  Edeen’s eyes widened.

  Alex winced at her expression, but went on, probably realizing most of what he said wouldn’t make sense anyway. “We can pluck the messages out of the air, but the Germans know this so they have encoded them.”

  He waited for her nod to continue. “They change the codes so frequently, they invented a machine to decipher them. It’s called an enigma and unknown to the Nazis, we’ve captured one from their subs, er, another type of ship,” he added. Pride poured off of him. The taking of this enigma must have been a great feat.

  “I don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

  “Well, so far, we haven’t been able to crack the code. We will, but it’s taking time.”

  “And time means more warriors lost. I do not have any use with codes, or with machines. These things are all strange to me, you must realize this.”

  “We do, but that’s not it.” His lips firmed. “We did capture a courier. From the sub. He knows the codes.”

  “But will not speak.” Her voice went flat. “For something of such import, surely your people have tried other methods.”

  Alex didn’t blink at the accusation. “Even when he breaks, the codes are changed so rapidly, even he won’t remember them all.”

  She exhaled, understanding dawning. “Yet an empath could search his memories and find every last code.”

  Alex nodded.

  Edeen shook her head and Roque shifted in his sleep. “But they would be old codes.”

  “With enough of them, we would learn basic patterns and be able to decipher the new codes as they come through. Look, I know this is a lot to take in and so quickly, but it is important.”

  Her hand strayed to the little puncture wounds on her neck, her mind reeling. She had been hurled into another century’s war. She didn’t know how she had gotten here or why? Or how Alex and Roque knew to come to the cliffs to find an empath in the first place. A sudden thought occurred to her. What if a sorcerer from this time had plucked her from her family for this exact purpose? If so, she needed to find him and make him send her back. If searching a courier’s memories was the price to find this sorcerer, she would gladly do it. That is, if she could summon her gift at all.

  Edeen nodded. She didn’t know what she was dealing with and didn’t want to seem too eager to help. “I’ll think on it, Alex. Right now, ‘tis all so much.”

  “I understand.” He seemed so genuine, she wanted to trust him.

  “What do we do now?”

  “Wait. Get some rest and allow Roque time to heal.”

  Now that the rare bull-et was gone from his body, Alex seemed certain Roque could mend on his own.

  Edeen ran the back of her hand across Roque’s forehead, pushing his wet hair back in the process. He was still warm to the touch.

  “And what then?” she asked. “We are still trapped.”

  Alex smiled at that, his eyes sparking with the trace of a secret.

  “Go to sleep.” He stretched out on the ground, using his bag to pillow his head. “It’s not as hopeless as it seems.”

  Chapter Six

  Fire coiled beneath his blood, raw, savage, an inferno. At fourteen, his first transformation should not be upon him for months yet.

  “Give him more.” Geschopf shouted, the vein at his forehead bulging purple behind his skin. “See what he can take.”

  Liquid ice poured through his veins from the needle violating the inside of his elbow. He screamed, a raw, guttural sound born of violation. He clenched down on a swell of fire. He would not transform. He would not. Geschopf wanted him to, wanted more than anything for Roque to become a dragon, and Roque knew deep down that if he did, if he gave into it under the Black Claw’s ministrations, he would be lost. Geschopf would own his soul.

  Roque lurched out of sleep, gasping, flames sprouting off his skin, catching on his clothes.

  “Peace, ye’re well.” The woman, Edeen crooned, holding his shoulder down over the part of his shirt that did not burn. Coming to himself, he quickly quenched the fire within, patting the flames out on his arms and chest.

  “Ye dreamed.” Edeen watched him warily.

  Roque looked away and swallowed, recoiling from the images lingering behind his eyes. Geschopf. Experiments. Cages. Pain. So much pain. He hadn’t transformed. He never transformed. His heart pulsed erratically. He had not dreamed of his youth in a long time.

  He searched the darkness, his draconic senses stroking along the rich minerals embedded in the stone, thrusting into a multitude of veins and tunnels. He felt the cliffs, old and heavy around them. He sensed the caverns below the waves, a bullet he could not push out, a woman’s heartbeat pushing sweet blood through a lush body tied to the magic of the earth stronger than any the dragon had detected before. Old magic, like his own.

  His side still throbbed. He looked down to inspect his wound, but found silky fabric wrapped around his torso, moist and steaming from the heat of his skin. She had given up her dress to make bandages for him.

  He lifted his gaze and was struck by the flawlessness of the woman. She had stripped down to her undergarments. The thin white chemise was still damp on her form, pulled tight around her curves and satin skin. His mouth suddenly went dry.

  Treasure. The dragon scraped to the surface for a closer look. “Are you all right?”

  Startled green eyes widened. “I’m well.”

  He tilted his head, studying. It surprised her that he’d asked how she fared. Considering she had awoken into a new world scant hours before, snagged off a cliff and shot at, she was handling things remarkably well.

  His gaze drifted to the wounds at her neck—his bite—and heat flared in his blood. Possessive.

  What was he going to do with her? His job was to keep her from
Nazi hands, but handing her over to the Allied Command didn’t sit well with him either. Even if she could help with the enigma machine and gods knows what else, it wasn’t right to use her.

  “Has your gift returned?”

  Long lashes lowered, splaying like bruises upon pale cheeks. “Nay,” she whispered, her tone betraying loss. It was like listening to heartbreak. He felt like a cad for being relieved, yet without her empathic abilities, Allied Command would have no use for her.

  Hitler would have no use for her.

  She would be safe.

  Despair splashed over his heart. That was a hopeless wish. There was no safety for her. Even without her gift, there would always be those who disbelieved. She’d forever be hunted.

  A protectiveness seared Roque’s heart, a raging inferno.

  “Why is that man after you?”

  Direct. Roque appreciated that. He glanced at Alex slumbering on his side, quietly snoring. “Alex didn’t explain?”

  “He said it was not his place.” She carded her palms together, placing them primly in her lap. “So I am asking you.” She gave him the look of a woman expecting to get her way. Which sent a tingly fissure of delight into his belly.

  She frowned when he didn’t immediately answer. “I know I’ve come through time.”

  Slept through it more precisely. “Alex told you that?”

  She nodded and a waft of sea water drifted from her wild tousled hair. He wanted to reach out and feel it between his fingers.

  “What else did he tell you?”

  “That ye’re at war. That this Hitlam—”

  “Hitler.”

  “Hitler seeks to use my gifts as a weapon.” Her tone sharpened with disgust. “Roque, does he also seek you as a weapon?”

  The concern in her eyes speared straight to his gut, unraveling the hard wall he’d spent years in building. The dragon moved, scales rubbing across scales rumbled in his ears.

  Her hand slipped to the puncture wounds at her neck. “Ye’re of the race of vampires.”

  She’d put it all together. Roque stiffened. She would know vampires were born of magic that was dark, yet her features held no disgust. Or fear…and the hard shell coating Roque’s emotions cracked a little bit more. He very nearly told her about being a dragon as well.