by Lara Adrian
Page 11
Way south, Tegan thought. He held the curious journal under his arm, but ancient protocol made him hesitant to discuss potentially disturbing Order business in front of a female. It did not escape his notice that instead of getting up from the room or requesting privacy from Gabrielle, Lucan reached out to take her hand in his. The slight nod he gave her as she sat back down beside him was one of respect and solidarity.
The statement was clear: they were a unit, and while Lucan would walk through fire to protect her, the venerable warrior kept no secrets from her. No doubt the female would have it no other way.
It had been like that between the couple from the day she arrived at the compound as Lucan's mate. The same could be said of Gideon and Savannah, who were paired more than thirty years and an equally solid match. Dante and Tess were two halves of one whole as well, though they had only been together a few short months. Breedmates had their freedoms, even those bonded to members of the Order, but there wasn't a male among the entire vampire nation who would stand by and condone what Elise had been doing the past few months she'd been living topside. What she intended to keep on doing, even if it killed her.
Tell me what this is about, Lucan said, indicating for Tegan to come into the library chamber. Gideon said you phoned in that you were with an injured Darkhaven female.
Tegan arched a brow in acknowledgment. Elise Chase. No longer of the Darkhavens, as it turns out.
She left?
After the death of her son. She's been living in the city by herself.
Jesus. What happened to her tonight?
Tegan smirked, still disbelieving the woman's tenacity. She attracted some unwanted attention from the Rogues. They came gunning for her at her apartment.
He left out the fact that one of the bastards got to her before he could stop it. The thought still burned in him, self-directed anger seething beneath his cool veneer.
Gabrielle frowned. What would they want with Elise?
This. Tegan held the book out and Lucan took it, scowling as he touched the faded tooling on the aged cover, then flipped through some of the yellowed pages. It was waiting for overnight pickup by a Minion. Somebody was in a big rush to have it.
Lucan's look was grave. No question as to who the somebody was.
And the Darkhaven woman?
She intercepted it. Christ. What about Marek's human mule?
The Minion is dead, Tegan stated simply. Marek must have gotten wind of that fact and unleashed his hounds to retrieve the book. It would have been easy enough to track down Elise from the store's closed-circuit feed.
What is it, some kind of diary? Gabrielle asked, peering past Lucan at the fanning pages.
Appears to be, Tegan said. Apparently it belonged to a family named Odolf. You ever hear of them, Lucan?
The vampire shook his dark head as he ran through the journal again. Before Tegan could direct him to the disturbing symbol at the back of the text, Lucan flipped to the page himself. As soon as his eye lit upon the hand-drawn dermaglyphic marking, he muttered a curse. Holy hell. Is this what I think it is?
Tegan gave a grim nod. No doubt you recognize the pattern.
Dragos, Lucan said, a dark weight hanging on that one word.
Who is Dragos? Gabrielle asked, peering past Lucan at the glyph scrawled onto the page.
Dragos is a very old Breed name, Lucan explained. He was one of the original members of the Order--a first generation vampire. Like Tegan and me, Dragos was sired by one of the ancient creatures who began the vampire race as we know it. Dragos fought alongside us when the Order declared war on our alien fathers.
Gabrielle nodded, showing no surprise or confusion. Evidently Lucan had already filled her in on the otherworldly origins of the Breed, as well as the bloody war that arose within the Breed during the fourteenth century of the human era.
It was a tumultuous time, rife with treachery and violence--most of it carried out by the long- lived, savage creatures from a distant planet who prowled the night and fed without discretion, sometimes wiping out entire villages of humankind. The Ancients were ravenous and brutal, supremely powerful. Without the Order to intervene, they'd been a bloodthirsty pestilence that made even the worst Rogue look like a misbehaving frat boy.
Gabrielle's gaze went from Lucan to Tegan. What happened to Dragos?
Killed in battle a few years into the war with the Ancients, Tegan supplied.
Can you be sure of that? she asked. Until last summer, everyone believed that Marek was dead too. . .
Lucan gave a firm nod. Dragos is dead, love. I saw his body with my own eyes. None of the Breed can resurrect when their head is taken.
Tegan recalled that night as well. It was a moment that marked many losses, starting with Dragos's Breedmate, who took her own life upon hearing the news of his death. Kassia had been a good, caring woman, as close as a sister to Sorcha. It wasn't long after Kassia's death that Tegan lost Sorcha as well. Dark times that he preferred not to think on, even now. He'd learned to suppress the pain, but he still had so many memories. . .
Tegan sharply cleared his throat. Which brings us back to the name Odolf. Who is it? And what can it mean to Marek?
Maybe Gideon can turn something up in the IID, Lucan suggested, handing the book back to Tegan as he got to his feet. The database isn't a complete record, but it's all we've got.
You two run your search, Gabrielle interjected when they reached the corridor outside. I'm going to check in on Elise. It sounds like she's been through a lot tonight. Maybe she could use some company and something to eat.
Lucan's eyes darkened as he held his woman's gaze. He whispered something low in her ear, then pressed a kiss to her lips. There was a faint pink tint to her cheeks as she broke the embrace.
Tegan glanced away from the exchange and started the trek toward Gideon's lab. Lucan was behind him in no time, Gabrielle heading in the opposite direction to look for Elise.
It was impossible not to notice the calm that enveloped the warrior whenever he was around his Breedmate. Not that long ago, Lucan had been a powder keg just looking for an open flame. He'd pretended an iron control, but Tegan knew him longer than any of the others at the compound, and he knew that Lucan had been only a few steps away from total disaster.
Bloodlust was the fatal flaw of all the Breed--a tipping point that could push even the most stable vampire over the edge into a permanent addiction. All of the Breed needed to consume blood to survive, but some took it too far. Some turned Rogue, and it had stunned Tegan to discover that Lucan was teetering on the very knife-edge of that abyss. He'd been nearly lost.
Until Gabrielle.
She grounded him somehow, gave Lucan what he needed through their blood bond, yet trusted him not to fall. She'd saved the warrior, and it was clear that she continued to do so every moment they shared together.
You're well mated, Tegan said as Lucan caught up to him and strode along at his side in the corridor.
He'd meant it in praise, but it came out sounding harsh, almost an accusation. Lucan didn't seem surprised by the rough tone, but he didn't rise to the bait like he might have at one time either. I think about you and Sorcha sometimes, when I look at Gabrielle and imagine what my life would be like without her. It's sure as hell not a place I like to visit often. How you ever got through it--
It passes, Tegan murmured, a bit too tightly even to his own ears. And the only ghost I'm interested in talking about right now is Dragos.
Lucan dropped the subject as the two of them entered the tech lab. Gideon was at his usual post behind the long console, keying something into one of the many computers. What've you got? he asked the moment they strode in, his eyes and fingers never leaving his task.
Tegan put the airbill and journal down on the table. Need you to check the origin of this package, but first run a search of the IID records for the name Odolf.
You got it. The vampire
grabbed a wireless keyboard, dropped it into his lap, and started typing. Am I looking for criminal records, birth records, death records. . . ?
Any of the above, Tegan said, watching the monitor screen fill with a scrolling list of data. It kept running and running, turning up zilch. Then one record stuck at the top of the screen while the program scrolled for more results. You got one?
Deceased, Gideon replied. A one Reinhardt Odolf, of the Munich Darkhaven. Went Rogue in May 1946. Deceased the following year by solar suicide. Another entry, this one for Alfred Odolf, lost to Bloodlust in 1981. Hans Odolf, Bloodlust, 1993. A couple of missing persons on record. . . here's one more for you: Petrov Odolf, Berlin Darkhaven. Lucan moved in to get a better look at the computer. Also deceased?
Actually no. Not yet, anyway. Petrov Odolf, institutionalized for rehabilitation. According to the record, this boy's been Rogue for the past few years and a ward of the Enforcement Agency in Germany.
Is he coherent? Tegan demanded. Can he be questioned? More importantly, can his answers be trusted to be valid?
Gideon shook his head. The record's not complete about his current condition, other than he's breathing and under the supervision of the institution in Berlin.
Berlin, eh? Lucan turned a questioning look on Tegan. Think you can call in any favors over there?
Tegan turned away from the monitor and pulled out his cell phone. Guess it's as good a time as any to find out.
Chapter Eleven
Elise looked down at the healed wound on her left arm, then over at Tess, whose gifted hands had erased all traces of the bleeding cut and mended the torn flesh with just a touch. This is incredible. How long have you had this talent?
Pretty much all my life, I suppose. Tess pushed a curling lock of honey-blond hair behind her ear and gave a small shrug. For a long time, I didn't use it. I just wished it would go away, you know? So I could be. . . normal. Elise nodded, understanding completely. You're lucky, though, Tess. Your ability is one of strength. It works for the good.
Shadows seemed to crowd the Breedmate's aqua eyes. Now it does, yes. Thanks mostly to Dante, that is. Before I met him, I had no idea why I was so different from other women. I treated my talent like a curse. Now I wish it went deeper. There is so much more I wish I could do--like with Rio, for instance.
Elise knew the warrior Tess referred to. She'd seen him in one of the other infirmary rooms when she was led down here by Gideon. As they passed his open door, Rio had looked up from where he lay on a hospital bed, one side of his face distorted by old burns, the muscles of his bare chest and torso riddled with shrapnel scars and healed gouges that indicated some very severe injuries. His topaz-colored eyes had been dull beneath the fall of his overlong, dark brown hair. Elise hadn't wanted to stare, but the anguish she saw in his face was arresting--even more so than the ravaged condition of his person.
I can't take away old wounds and scars, Tess said. And some of the worst ones a person bears are on the inside. Rio is a good man, but he's damaged in ways he may never recover from, and there is no Breedmate talent that can erase those kinds of hurts.
Maybe love? Elise suggested hopefully.
Tess shook her head as she ran her hands under the counter tap and scrubbed up. Love betrayed him once. That's what left him the way he is now. I don't think he'll let anyone get that close again. All he's living for is to get back out in the field with the other warriors. Dante and I are trying to convince him to take things slowly, but when you try to slow Rio down, he only pushes harder. In some small way, Elise could relate to the warrior's determined need to take action, even if only in the name of revenge. She was driven by a similar need and, like Rio, hearing others advise her to step back didn't make the need burn any less.
From outside the infirmary room came the soft gait of female footsteps, accompanied by the quick, rhythmic click of a four-footed companion. Savannah and a perky brown terrier appeared in the doorway. Gideon's pretty Breedmate offered Elise a warm smile. All set here?
We've just wrapped up, Tess said, drying her hands with a paper towel and bending down to scratch the chin of the little dog who quite obviously adored her. The mutt jumped all over her, showering Tess with wet kisses.
Savannah came in and carefully ran her fingers over Elise's healed arm. Good as new. Amazing, isn't she?
You're all amazing, Elise answered, meaning it totally.
She'd met Savannah and Gabrielle a short while before, when both women had come down to check on her soon after her arrival at the compound. Savannah with her gorgeous mocha complexion and velvet brown eyes, had instantly made Elise feel at home with her gentle, caring demeanor. Gabrielle was sweet as well, a ginger- haired beauty who seemed wise beyond her years. And then there was pretty, quiet Tess, who'd taken care of Elise as compassionately as she might her own kin.
Elise felt humbled before them all. Having been raised in the Darkhavens, where the warriors of the Order were considered at best to be an antiquated, dangerous faction within the vampire race--at worst, a deadly gang exercising vigilante justice--it was surprising to meet the intelligent, kind women who'd taken members of the Order as their mates. She couldn't see any one of these women binding herself to anything less than a male of honor and integrity. They were too smart for that, too confident in themselves.
Surprisingly, they seemed so pleasant and warm, not unlike the Darkhaven females Elise considered her friends.
Since you're finished here, why don't both of you come with me? Savannah said, breaking into Elise's thoughts. Gabrielle and I just made some sandwiches and a fruit salad. You must be hungry, Elise.
I am. . . or at least, I should be, she admitted quietly. It had been several hours since she'd eaten and her body felt depleted, in need of nourishment, but the idea of food held little appeal. Everything tasted bland, even the things she used to enjoy when Quentin was alive.
How long has it been for you, Elise? Savannah's tone was cautious, concerned. I've heard that you lost your mate about five years ago. . .
