by Jackie Ivie
“Then move,” Zach replied.
“These weigh a ton, Junior. I don’t suppose you’d oblige?”
Zach tromped on Leroy’s foot, bent to grab his ankle chain, and yanked. The link attached to the manacle burst, releasing his leg, but leaving the cuff around his ankle. Leroy yelped like it had hurt. Zach grabbed a wrist chain and pulled, popping it free at exactly the same spot. He did the same to the other one. Then he tossed the chains aside, making even more noise.
“Now. Get moving.” He told him when he’d finished.
“Whoa. Junior. Anything you say. Shit. Don’t hit me. You’ll knock my head off.”
“The only reason you’re still alive, Walters, is because it’s easier to get a walking man onto a flight than part of a corpse. But don’t push it. I get paid to deliver you alive or dead. You got that, old man?”
“Loud and clear, Sport. I don’t suppose you got a cigarette on you?”
Zach smacked a hand to the guy’s middle back. Leroy shot through the gap and landed in a heap on the floor. He was moaning and sobbing as if it hurt. If the guy hadn’t cut and mutilated five women since Zach had known of him, maybe he’d feel sorry for him. Zach regarded him for several long moments in consideration. He’d never had such power to every movement. He might have to look into it once he got out of this place.
Rule Two, Zach. Ignore it.
He stepped through the opening and hauled Leroy back onto his feet. The fall had re-bloodied Leroy’s nose. Zach’s teeth tingled again. His heart-rate increased. He looked the guy over before tossing him atop a shoulder. That gained him another long, drawn-out groan.
Leroy was Zach’s largest bounty.
Right now, it wasn’t enough.
CHAPTER TEN
Kraven Castle had an aboveground cemetery. Old. Decrepit. As the forest had encroached, most of the tombstones were overgrown, toppled, or crumbled into dust. The area included a derelict-looking mausoleum that had once been adorned with her family crest: a sword and battle-ax. It was the perfect disguise. That mausoleum was the entrance to her domain. It led directly down to the family crypt. Ruxanna had brought stone from her turning place and fashioned a slab to rest atop. The place was quiet. Dank. Usually dark. Two stories in height. And it connected to the bedroom she’d lovingly and meticulously designed over the past centuries.
Along with the bed she’d never used.
...until Zachariah.
The crypt had another exit. That door led to other sections of the castle, including the dungeons. She’d raced the stairs and entered them. The dungeons at Castle Kraven resembled the one where she’d been turned. Almost exactly. As her soon-to-be-eliminated partner, Malcolm, had remarked what seemed ages ago – she’d been at torture sessions more than once. She’d been interested in what it meant to be human. The emotion. The suffering. And mainly...the blood.
She stood there for a moment, contemplating the space. And then she swore. Because it was empty.
La naibal!
Damn the impulse that made her spend time donning a dark rose-shaded gown, complete with slippers for her feet and a shawl for her hair. She’d rushed, but now it felt so foolish. She’d felt vulnerable wearing little more than Zach’s shirt, but what did that matter now? If she hadn’t stopped to change, the dungeon wouldn’t be empty. Her mate gone. And in danger.
Damn again. La naibal!
She took a deep breath. Held it. Worked to find the calm demeanor she was known for. Nothing bothered her. Nothing annoyed her. Nothing upset her. That was her personae for almost five hundred years. Until Zachariah came into her sphere. Mating with him had changed everything. Ruxanna opened her eyes and her mind, and then she reached out to him once again.
“Zachariah?”
“Yeah.” He answered instantly, just like before.
“Where are you?”
“Garage. Shitballs! I am not answering again!”
“Garaj?” She repeated it, using the Romany word.
“Yeah. Oh. Crap.”
The castle didn’t have a garage. It had a carriage house. Oh. Wait. There was the section of castle’s underbelly where they stored the automobiles. For trips to town. To fetch supplies. Handle human resources. It had originally been part of the moat. The section had been walled in and doubled now as a storage area/garage, complete with a hidden driveway.
“I’m not talking to you, Leroy.”
“None of your business.”
“No worries. I can hotwire any of these birds. There. Diesel.”
“Give me a break. You don’t know why? Didn’t you take auto mechanics? Diesel doesn’t break down in storage.”
Ruxanna smiled as Zachariah kept speaking, the snippets coming with gaps between. She could hear her mate easily. She could probably catch some of the other man’s words, but she didn’t care enough to try. She knew what had happened. Zach had found and taken Leroy Walters. That explained the damage to the iron bars in front of her. Zach was definitely the bounty hunter. He was doing his job. Leroy was the man he’d come looking for.
“If I need your help, old man, I’ll ask.”
Ruxanna smiled widely. She should have known.
“Don’t move,” Zach cautioned. “I get paid for a dead body, too. Got that?”
Oh! They were so attuned! How could he question their mating? She could hear him as if he stood right beside her. And he could definitely hear her. It didn’t sound like he liked it much, though.
Zachariah?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you, dragul meu.”
He groaned. Or something that sounded like one. Ruxanna lifted her skirt with a hand, and started up the staircase. She’d been frantic with worry. For nothing. Zach was fine. He was in the garage. She’d be with him momentarily. And together they’d take care of everything. The Hunters. Leroy. Malcolm.
“You there?”
Zach’s voice came through her consciousness. Ruxanna answered automatically and verbally, as if they’d traded places.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Dungeon staircase.”
She answered while skimming her fingers along the wall as she traversed the steps. This renewed sense of touch...it was awe-inspiring. She’d been inanimate for so long, she’d forgotten! The stone beneath her fingertips felt solid. Hard. Chilly. Almost moist. She lifted her fingers away and rubbed at them with her thumb.
“Roxie?”
Zach’s voice came through her ears again. Ruxanna stumbled and put a palm to the wall to keep from falling. Her jaw dropped. Her eyes went round. He’d learned how to communicate? Already?
“You’re mind-talking,” she replied.
“Uh. Yeah. Appears that way.”
“But...how? It took me years!”
She entered the main hall. Before reaching her door, the corridor was intersected by two more halls; one branching to the left, the other went right. She took the right one. This hall emanated with pungent smells. Firewood. Coal. Smoke. Sulfur. Furnace oil. The area also radiated with warmth. That was another new sensation.
“Well...you didn’t have the mate thing going. Oh. No. No. Zach. Buddy. You did not just say that.”
Joy had to be the emotion pumping through her. It weakened her limbs, saturated her frame, and rinsed her soul. And then the feeling altered, pumping strength and vitality everywhere. Elation lifted her several feet off the floor. She put her arms wide to absorb massive light and wonder and absolute bliss. And then she started rotating.
“Gotta run. I’ll call you.”
“You’ll call me?”
“Malcolm’s here. ‘Bye, babe.”
“Wait! Zach!”
Ruxanna dropped so swiftly, the impact reverberated through the hall. It also hurt. She’d forgotten what pain felt like. She blinked against the instant sheen of tears and started moving.
~ ~ ~
This place definitely had a garage. It was more showroom than storage, however. For starters, the place was built o
f gray-colored stones, had a groin-vaulted ceiling, a large vast open tunnel that looked like the exit/entrance, and a lot of square footage. Lighting was provided by large, round, fluorescent bulbs that hummed as they illuminated. There were sturdy-looking heating units mounted high in the corners for winter temps, and air handlers for every other season. The air handlers were operating when he arrived. It added to the cacophony of sound. They were close to airplane engine loud and sent a rumble through the floor. He was already blocking the hum from the lighting. And why? Because his hearing had been radically modified somehow. Sound was troublesome if he focused in on it.
Any. Sound.
Especially Leroy’s whistle when they’d first entered this place. It was train stop loud. Zach had jumped slightly, almost dropping the guy, much to his disgust. He had super-sonic hearing, too? Great. That was another thing to worry about later, after he delivered Leroy. He’d schedule a physical. To check his physical strength. And his vision. He could see in perfect focus. Even far-away items were clear and sharp. He could count tire treads if he wanted. A scan of their garage got him a count of twenty-one vehicles. A square of beige carpeting was beneath each vehicle. Pristine condition. None of the engines leaked fluid. There was a wide span of polished floor to drive on. Every spot looked occupied.
They had a sweet collection of vehicles in here. All cherry. Mostly sedans. Long body styles. Most with four doors. At least two limos. One panel truck. Nobody appeared to care about fuel economy or carbon footprint. Gas guzzlers, the lot of them. They were all backed into place, facing the center. Zach had seen parking garages. Nothing near the condition of this one. Every vehicle was parallel parked in perfect precision.
Appeared that nobody favored sports cars around here. Or even a coupe. But they did have more than one diesel to choose from. Zach had dragged Leroy toward a 50’s model sedan. European-manufactured. Had an excellent resale value due to maintenance history. He’d propped Leroy against the fender, and found a drum of diesel. Lifted it without much trouble, carried it over to the car and pumped the tank full. He was just finishing up when Ruxanna had started talking.
He didn’t know how he managed to communicate telepathically. He’d just brought her to mind. Concentrated. And started speaking. And she’d answered. If he knew how, he’d find a way to market it. That skill was worth a fortune. In the meantime, he was going to stick that question in with the ones about his new super strength, hyper-sensitive hearing, eagle-eye vision, and amazing reflex ability. Maybe he didn’t want to know.
But then he’d stuck his foot in it.
They were not mates. Oh, hell no. The concept didn’t exist. It was right in there with the love emotion stuff. Rules one and three: Didn’t exist. And he didn’t believe.
Leroy was still leaning against the car fender. He looked rough. He was coughing, too. Hacking up more than phlegm. Looked like a good dose of blood droplets were speckling the hood of their chosen car. And then Malcolm came in through the tunnel entrance. And he had a crossbow. Great. Just great.
“Look, Malcolm! I’m not stealing anything. Let me explain.”
“You’re taking her!”
“No! I’m just borrowing her. No worries, Man! I’ll leave her parked in a nice place, and—shit!”
His newly acquired hearing and sight saved his ass, as well as the ability to move rapidly. Malcolm lifted the crossbow as he walked toward them, and then the bastard released his arrow bolt. Zach watched his finger squeeze the trigger mechanism, heard the twang of the bowstring, watched the arrow leave the shaft, and pivoted a moment before it reached him.
Leroy wasn’t so lucky.
The feathers along the arrow shaft grazed Zach’s bare belly as it missed him. It wasn’t a lost shot, however. It ended up impaling his captive. Leroy got the arrowhead right in the kisser. Zach watched him stagger backward onto the car’s hood, both hands about the arrow shaft where it protruded from his open mouth. Leroy’s move was accompanied by choking and sputtering, each time spraying a red-toned mist of blood droplets into the air. The tingling in Zach’s mouth came again, worse than before. His nostrils flared. And the next moment he was right on the hood beside the guy, fighting an impulse to grab him, find a vein that still held fluid, and...
What the hell?
He had the most incredible thirst all of a sudden.
Rule One, Zach!
Vampires didn’t exist. He wasn’t one. He didn’t crave blood. It was in his head. So, why didn’t any of that cancel out the parched sensation of his mouth and throat? Reiterating Rule One didn’t do a damn thing. The rest of his rules were about as useless. And he could hear Malcolm reloading his crossbow. Zach turned his head away from Leroy’s dying form, and yelled over his shoulder, in Malcolm’s general direction.
“Wait a minute, Man! I’m a third degree black belt! You don’t want to do this! I’m warning you!”
“You can’t have her!”
Zach grabbed for Leroy’s death arrow, breaking the shaft as he rolled off the hood and landed in a crouch on the far side of the car. A moment later Malcolm’s second arrow hit the exact spot where Zach had just been, clanking as it skidded along metal, warping the shaft. The guy was entirely too fond of his cars, and he was an excellent shot with a crossbow. His second arrow followed Zach’s trajectory as if it was tracking him. Zach snagged it as it flew off the hood. Okay. Now he had one broken arrow shaft, one bent arrow, and the bedpost spike still strapped to his right arm. All of them useful. If he got in range.
His new hyper-vision was a definite plus as he honed in on Malcolm’s lower legs. The guy was six cars over. Standing on the far side of a stretch limousine. He tried one more time to reason. And explain. Zach lifted his chin and yelled. “Didn’t you hear me? I don’t need a weapon to kill anyone! Okay? Stop this already!”
“You can’t hide forever, chum! Just keep talking.”
That was all the encouragement Zach needed. Malcolm had gone insane, and Zach was finished with the sitting duck routine. The guy could find another target. Zach held the arrows to him, flattened, and rolled beneath cars. Passed under one chassis. The next. A third. Another. Beige carpet blurred with polished stonework floor at the speed he moved. And wow. These babies were in perfect condition. Even the underbellies looked polished and clear of dirt or debris.
That was still no reason to go berserk over them.
Zach reached the right limo. Stopped. Turned his head. Silently swore. Malcolm had moved.
“You hear me, Reed?”
Ah. The guy hadn’t gained any covert intellect, however. Zach rolled his head sideways and checked. The guy was stalking Zach’s last known location. He’d moved two vehicles over. He was at the front of a dark gray sedan. Closing in on where Leroy was still atop the car hood, but he was doing a lot of bleeding. Zach didn’t even have to focus to see and hear blood droplets as they slid off the hood and plopped onto the carpet.
Well. That kind of stain was going to mess with the perfection of the garage. And that was a really dumb thought when someone was trying to hunt him down. He really didn’t want to kill Malcolm, but he might not have the choice. Zach crept one car closer, slithered under the sedan. The carpet made it soundless, even to his newly-acquired hyper-sensitive hearing.
And then he was right below Malcolm, looking up his dapper suit to the incongruous weapon he still held, pointed right at Zach’s old location. Zach grabbed both heels and yanked.
Malcolm hit the floor, lost his crossbow, and then, surprisingly, he jumped right back to his feet, belying the visual proof of his age and physical fitness level. Zach was younger, however. And fitter. And ready. As soon as the old guy was back on his feet, he was facing Zach. Malcolm’s face was screwed into an ugly expression, matching words and tone he’d been using. That changed the moment Zach slammed the bent arrow right into the guy’s heart. And then he backed up enough to round-kick the arrow right through the guy’s chest.
And this time when Malcolm dropped, he stayed dow
n.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Zach watched Malcolm’s body thumping along the floor in death throes, with the tingling sensation of his teeth at full throttle, and a massive thirst to match. Then he turned to fetch the crossbow. Might come in handy.
“Yo! Look! It’s the kid!”
“Remember us?”
Zach looked up and across as the three Hunter guys from the coach appeared through the same tunnel Malcolm had used. They were dressed alike in full camouflage, and they’d found more weapons. They each had a crossbow in one hand, two had swords strapped to their backs, while the third looked to have a flame thrower. If he didn’t miss his guess, it probably contained Holy Water.
“How’s the weekend going, anyway?”
Zach didn’t know what to say. Or do. So he just stood there over Malcolm’s dead body, waiting for them.
“Well. Well. Looks like you have been busy.” That was the leader. Zach had him pegged from the coach. The impression hadn’t changed. The guy had the bearing and attitude of someone in charge. And a buzz cut that had stopped just shy of baldness. He was going to call him Buzz Cut from now on.
“Self defense,” Zach remarked.
Buzz Cut answered. “That works. We’ve had our eye on Malcolm, there...for some time. He was part of the objective today, even though we’re here at his invitation. Looks like a good kill. You’re pretty handy. Want to join us? We could use you.”
“For what?”
“We hunt vampires. Remember?”
“Vampires don’t exist.”
“Man. The kid is a slow learner. I’m kind-a surprised you actually got one.” That was the middle guy. Zach hadn’t paid much attention to him earlier. He wasn’t remarkable. He did have a really cool tattoo on his forearm, but it had been applied at a slant, ruining the impact.
Zach looked down to the body at his feet. Malcolm hadn’t changed. He was still a corpse. Nothing supernatural about anything.
“You’re telling me he was vampire? Come on. Why hasn’t he turned to dust like that Reginald guy?”
