Cunningham, Pat - Legacy [Sequel to Belonging] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Pat Cunningham

  Jeremy entered her first, easing his length into her tight ass in a steady, painless thrust. Colleen clung to Wallace and moaned against his shoulder. When Jeremy had filled her, Wallace maneuvered his cock into her sopping cunt. Both began to move. Full near to bursting, Colleen clutched at them both and surrendered herself to the ride.

  They were connected far more than physically now, bound by ties that only time and mortality could break—male and female, living and undead, the human, the vampire, and the woman who hovered between, all the pieces fitted together into a perfect whole.

  Colleen wasn’t certain which of them came first. Blinded by her own orgasm, she thought they might have climaxed simultaneously. Sweaty and satiated, she lay between her men with an arm around each, and listened while two heartbeats returned to normal and a third returned to nothing. Wallace, sweaty as any human male, grinned at her and winked.

  Jeremy nuzzled the side of her neck. “Welcome to the flock.”

  * * * *

  Too soon, dawn poked its light around the edges of the curtains. Wallace’s movements slowed. When his kisses started to morph into yawns, Jeremy called a halt. Wallace climbed into the sleeping bag. The second the fabric closed over his head, his body went limp, then rigid. Colleen gave the bag a tentative poke and got no response. It might as well have been filled with lead.

  Jeremy got out his phone and called the counseling center then handed the cell to Colleen. The school hadn’t heard anything about Norelle. Colleen settled back into the bed. With her head on her living lover’s chest and her undead lover at her back, she finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.

  * * * *

  No dreams, good or bad, marked Colleen’s slumber. She came awake reenergized, practically quivering, and fully aware. She glanced at the clock and saw she’d slept the day away. Wallace still lay like a lump in his sleeping-bag shroud, but Jeremy was gone. Her alarm flared and died when her indrawn breath brought her the odor of home fries drifting up from downstairs. Cooking always soothed him, and neither had eaten since the previous evening. Giving the sleeping bag an affectionate pat, she hopped off the bed, snagged a robe from the back of a chair, and headed downstairs.

  The opening strains of “Walk This Way” reached her before she reached the bottom of the stairs. Jeremy was already on the phone by the time she entered the kitchen. He split his sunny smile between her and whomever he was talking to.

  “Colleen’s right here. I’ll get Wallace. Hang on.” He pressed his cell into Colleen’s hand and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “It’s Annie. She’s got news. Be right back.” He dashed for the stairs.

  Colleen stepped up to the stove, where ham, eggs, and home fries sizzled. She kept an eye on breakfast while she spoke. “Annie? Good morning. Good evening, I mean. It’s Colleen.”

  “I figured. Your voice is too high to be Wally. How you doing?”

  She grimaced at a ham slice and flipped it over. “Not so good. I guess Wallace told you everything.”

  “’Fraid so. Hey, I’ll bet this will cheer you up. We found your friend Norelle.”

  Colleen perked up. “Is she okay?”

  “Better than we could have hoped for, all things considered. She’s in the hospital. Severe blood loss. Nothing worse than that. Gus already talked to her. She doesn’t remember a thing. Her boyfriend’s been with her day and night. Nobody’s tried to get at her.”

  “I need to see her. Which hospital?”

  Annie didn’t answer right away. When she did, her voice was both grim and sympathetic. “I’m sorry, hon, that’s not a good idea just now. We don’t know what booby traps the bats may have left in her head. You can call her, but don’t tell her where you are. No personal visits. I know that’s tough, but better safe than sorry.”

  “Safe” was beginning to feel like a mythical concept. Colleen sagged against the stove and poked her spatula listlessly at the eggs. “Is there any good news anymore?”

  “Well, they only fed on her. They didn’t kill her, or mark her or turn her. With vampires, you take what you get. Colleen, I’m really sorry. Gus is going to work with her. She’ll need it when her memory comes back. He’s the only doctor in the state who won’t think she’s completely loony. How about it, sweetie? Are you smiling yet?”

  She was indeed. It hung heavy on her lips, but her heart had lightened. “Yes. Yes, I am. Thank you, Annie.”

  “You hang in there, hon. You’ve got two hunky men to keep you safe. All I’ve got is the balding shrink. Some gals have all the luck.”

  Colleen looked up at the sound of footfalls clattering down the stairs. A moment later, Jeremy came in with a stumbling, yawning Wallace in tow. “That you, Annie?” Wallace yelled at the phone. “Tell Gus I’m sorry for waking him up. Is he still pissed or what?”

  Jeremy took the phone from Colleen. He placed in on the kitchen table and activated the speaker. “Go ahead,” he said to Annie. “We’re ready.”

  “Lordy, I hope so. Especially you, Wally. Gus isn’t pissed at you. I am. Once he’s up, he’s up, and then he gets me up to keep him company. Are you cranky and have bloodshot eyes? Welcome to my world.”

  “I always have bloodshot eyes. And yeah, I’m cranky as shit. Un-crank me.” Wallace grabbed the pan of home fries off the stove and dug in without offering any to Jeremy or Colleen. “What have you got?”

  “Good news, I’m hoping.” Jeremy dished up ham and eggs. They ate while Annie spoke. “Stoker Unlimited sold off the commune site a while back. They had some smaller real estate holdings. Those were sold off, too. Looks like that lead’s a dud. The bank’s another story. The branch closed down and was auctioned off a year or so ago. The buyer was—drum roll, please—Mosquito Enterprises.”

  “Mosquito? Are you kidding me?” Wallace sputtered through his home fries. “Jesus kick me in the balls. I’m ready to stake this bozo just on principle.”

  “That Caddy was registered to them, too. You’re going to love me for this one. We’ve got names.”

  “Finally.” Wallace belatedly held up the pan and gestured with his fork at the home fries. Jeremy and Colleen shook their heads. Wallace shrugged and aimed his fork at a slice of ham. “Was one of those names Lebec?”

  “We have a winner, guys and gals. There was an Antoine Lebec on the paperwork for the Woods and the Waters. He’s listed again as CEO of Mosquito Enterprises. And that’s not all. We found his name connected to the Montana nest. No word on the one in Arizona, but I’ll bet if you dug deep enough, you’d find him.”

  “It could be an alias,” Jeremy said.

  “Doubt it,” Wallace growled. “If he’s stuck to the same name for a hundred years, it’s probably his real one. He’s our king bat, which means he’s arrogant enough not to give a shit if we know who he is. So who is he? Any way we can find out?”

  “Way ahead of you. Antoine Lebec was born in Canada sometime in the 1760s. He’s reported to have died around 1800, so that’s probably when he was turned. He was a farmer in Ontario, as far as we can tell. Records show he imported at least one purebred bull from England. Sounds like our boy wanted to try his hand at selective breeding.”

  “Was this before or after he turned?”

  “Looks like before. Our Antoine Lebec died in 1800, so the story goes. Fifteen years later, another Antoine Lebec surfaced in Alberta. This Lebec had seven daughters.”

  “Natural or man-made?”

  “Either captives or turned, I’m guessing. There’s no mention of a Mrs. Lebec, and the living Lebec was childless. Their happy little family persisted until the 1830s, when the farm burned down. No mention of how the fire started, or if outsiders were involved. Next thing you know, there’s a blood bank in Montana. I think we’ve found our boy.”

  “Any idea where he’s denning? He won’t go back to the bank.”

  “No, that’s a dead end, too. There’s some rental properties on the books. We’re looking into those. But get this—last year Mosquito Enterprises purchased a gol
f course. Eighteen holes of private, semi-isolated land just outside of Palm Springs. It’s currently closed for renovations, according to the press releases. How does that float your boat?”

  “Annie, don’t tell Gus this, but I could kiss you both. Theo, too. You guys should open a detective agency.”

  “The real estate transactions are no big deal. Those are public record. The dirt on Lebec we got elsewhere.” Her tinny voice coming out of the phone sounded faintly accusing. “I had a visitor at the house today. A charming young man called the Preacher.”

  Wallace tensed. Colleen and Jeremy put down their forks. “Did he threaten you?” Wallace demanded. “I’ll hang him with his own goddamn coat.”

  “Of course he didn’t. He was very polite, very professional. We had coffee and cheesecake. I’m just glad Shayla was at school. That man should not be around children.” Colleen could almost see Annie’s shiver over the phone. “I didn’t tell him where you live. I did share about the golf course and their other holdings. He’s a fellow slayer, working the same case. He deserved to know.”

  “Annie, we can handle it.”

  Her snort said volumes. “Wally, please quit trying to be Superman. This is a king bat with an army of vamps, half-human slaves, and over a century’s experience in guarding his ass. No slayer’s ever gone after him solo. They always attack in a bunch, and so far, they haven’t succeeded. I understand why you don’t trust the Preacher—now that I’ve met him, I can’t blame you there—but it sure wouldn’t hurt to have backup. This one time, use some common sense.”

  Wallace set his lips in a hard line. “Tell me where the golf course is.”

  “You’ll just do something stupid.”

  “C’mon, Annie. Don’t make me come over there.”

  “No. You can’t just go charging in. Give us a chance to get a posse together.”

  “Made up of who? You and Gus? That Preacher creep? Any other old fogies we knew from back in the glory days? Fuck that. I got my posse with me. All we need is the address.”

  “Sure. You, Colleen and Jeremy, right? Jeremy, sweetheart, you know I love you, but you can’t throw a punch to save your life. And Colleen—”

  “I’m with Wallace. Screw that. Yesterday proved I can’t hide from them. I sure can’t hide from my DNA. The only way out is to stop them right now, before—” Before I wind up like Kitsune. She swallowed and finished. “Before they try again.”

  “Damn right,” Jeremy added.

  Annie huffed. “Wally, you’re a stubborn, bloodsucking cuss, and now you’ve gone and infected these two poor innocent kids. Nice going.”

  “Just tell me the goddamn address, Annie.”

  Reluctantly, she did. “It used to be the Desert View Country Club. The signs may or may not still be up. Listen, Gus will be home any minute. Wait for him. We can figure this out.”

  “Relax. We’re not attacking tonight.” Colleen and Jeremy exchanged a “We’re not?” look before aiming incredulous stares at Wallace. He grinned crookedly back at them. “Believe it or not, I’ve got a plan.”

  “You’re right. I don’t believe it.”

  “I didn’t say it was a good plan. We’ll sit tight until Gus gets in. Then you call us back, and we’ll go over the details. I guarantee you won’t like it.” He lost his grin, and shook his head. “I know I sure don’t.”

  Chapter 18

  Jeremy maneuvered the rental van up the Desert View Country Club’s long, narrow drive. The renovations promised in the press releases appeared to be on hold. Weeds had sprouted on the fairways, the water hazards had developed an edging of scum, and the greens were beginning to go desert brown in the unforgiving sun. This Joshua-tree-lined driveway, by contrast, didn’t sport so much as a bump.

  “Road’s been kept up,” Jeremy remarked, as if reading Colleen’s mind. “Bet the buildings are in tip-top shape, with all the windows boarded up.”

  Colleen could guess why the place had gone belly-up under its previous owners. The golf course sat a good four miles from the nearest major highway, and its unmarked entrance was tough to find on a twisty road. Bad for business, good for vamps. Location, location, location.

  She peered through the windshield at the sun-drenched clubhouse visible beyond the third hole’s tee. She swallowed hard and gripped her stake. The carven bolt of ash hadn’t left her hand since they’d left the highway. “How many do you think will be in there?”

  “Just the girls, I hope. If there are any vamps, they should be asleep. Noon’s the worst time for vampires. The sun’s at its peak. If we’re really, really lucky, we can get the girls out of there without even spotting a vamp.”

  And then set fire to the whole complex, destroying it and any vampires who happened to be denning there. She understood Jeremy’s reluctance to mention that part of the plan. He didn’t like any of it, particularly Wallace’s involvement, but what other options did they have?

  Speaking of Wallace…Colleen glanced into the back of the van at the motionless form in the sleeping bag lying on the floor. “What about Wallace? Will he wake up?”

  Jeremy snickered. “He’ll wake up, and he’ll be grouchy as hell. I pity any bat in there. Colleen, relax. It’ll be fine. He’s not like regular vamps.”

  “Some of them aren’t like regular vamps, either. That’s how I got here.”

  “We won’t run into any of those,” Jeremy said with enough certainty to fool anyone but Colleen. “It’ll just be normal vamps, the kind who follow orders.” He flashed her a bleak smile. “Can’t have the help feeding on or molesting the prize stock.”

  “No,” Colleen mumbled. “Can’t have that. What about that blonde? What was she? She wasn’t a follower, and she sure couldn’t have been Lebec.”

  “Lieutenant, maybe,” Jeremy guessed. “In any flock, there’s always only one king or queen. In a really big flock, the leader might have a couple of deputies. It looks like Lebec put Blondie in charge of the women. Don’t worry. If she’s here, she’ll be asleep like the rest.”

  “I’m not worried.” Colleen throttled her stake.

  Jeremy brought the van right up to the clubhouse door. Sure enough, every building Colleen could see looked to be in pristine condition. With the exception of the clubhouse lobby, every visible window had been boarded up, exactly as predicted.

  “This must be the place,” she said, nowhere near as lightly as she meant to.

  Jeremy shut off the engine. “Try the door, see if there’s a way in. I’ll wake Wallace.”

  “Good luck.” Colleen climbed down with her stake in her hand and her heart in her throat. It was so quiet out here. There should have been birdsong, sprinklers swishing, laughter, and the occasional blurted “Shit!” from the greens. The silence turned her thoughts to words like “grave.” At this point, she wasn’t sure which would be worse, finding vamps here or not.

  Naturally, the doors were locked. Colleen peered through the glass and saw no one inside. “I hope you brought tools,” she called to Jeremy. “We’re going to need a crowbar or something.”

  “Got one,” Jeremy said and brandished the length of iron as proof. He had his arm around a yawning, red-eyed, monumentally grumpy Wallace. Jeremy had wrapped Wallace’s sun-vulnerable body in a blanket with a corner pulled over his head.

  Wallace flinched away from the harsh sunlight with a bestial snarl. “This was a stupid idea. You knew it was a stupid idea. Why the hell didn’t you stop me?”

  “Because we couldn’t come up with anything better. Colleen and I will get the doors open, then you run in. This is as close as we could get. Can you make it?”

  For answer, Wallace leaped from the van and charged. Colleen barely had a second to jump aside before Wallace hit the doors full on and at full vampire speed. Glass shattered. Colleen flung up her arm to protect her eyes. When she lowered it again, the doors hung on twisted metal frames, glass covered the floor like sparkly sawdust, and Wallace had already disappeared. The discarded blanket lay beside a swinging
inner door.

  “Or,” Jeremy said, “there’s always that.” He hopped down and joined Colleen at the ruined doors. He held on to the crowbar. She clutched her stake. Hand in hand, they went inside.

  The lobby had once served as the pro shop. Tables, shelves, and racks stood empty, gathering desert dust. The inner door led to the country club’s former restaurant and bar. Unlike the pro shop, this room’s windows had been covered with plywood and duct-taped around the edges for good measure. Wallace stood motionless in the gloom, marked by his glowing crimson eyes. Jeremy motioned Colleen to be quiet. They stood back and let him scan the room—the whole building, Colleen suspected—with his vampire senses.

  “They’re here,” he announced in a growl. He pointed at a heavy curtain to his left. It had been hung across a wide archway in lieu of a door. “I’m hearing heartbeats. Really slow, not like you two rabbits. I can’t tell how many. It’s all in a mass.”

  “What about vampires?” Jeremy whispered.

  “Hard to say. The whole place stinks like a bat convention. They must be in and out of here a lot. Right now? No telling.” His glare focused past the bar and the tables to another inner door. “Kitchen,” he guessed. “Freezer. I was a bat in this turkey outfit, that’s where I’d hole up.”

  Colleen glanced around the empty room and tried to quiet her galloping heart. It sounded in her ears as loud as timpani. She could only guess how it must sound to Wallace with Jeremy’s added in.

  “Do you think they heard us?” she said.

  The curtain Wallace had pointed to swung aside a crack. A pallid face peeked out. The woman spotted them. Her hand flew to her mouth. She screamed through her spread fingers and ducked back inside.

  “Offhand, yeah, I’d say they did.” Wallace darted to the curtain. “Stay behind me. Let me handle it.” He grabbed a stake from beneath his bomber jacket and yanked the curtain aside.