HOPE AND VENGEANCE
Saa Thalarr, Book 1
CONNIE SUTTLE
For Walter, Joe, Sarah H., Lee D., Dianne J. and Larry O. Thank you.
* * *
The Author's information may be found at the end of this book.
Hope and Vengeance, copyright © 2014 by Connie Suttle
All rights reserved
ISBN-10:1-939759-27-7
ISBN-13:978-1-939759-27-6
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents portrayed within its pages are purely fictitious and a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons (or vampires, werewolves, High Demons, Greater Demons, Lesser Demons, Larentii, shapeshifters, Ra'Ak, wizards, warlocks, witches, Saa Thalarr or gods) living or dead, is purely coincidental.
* * *
This book, whole or in part, MAY NOT be copied or reproduced by mechanical means (including photocopying or the implementation of any type of storage or retrieval system), without the express written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
* * *
Other books by Connie Suttle:
Blood Destiny Series
Blood Wager
Blood Passage
Blood Sense
Blood Domination
Blood Royal
Blood Queen
Blood Rebellion
Blood War
Blood Redemption
Blood Reunion
* * *
Legend of the Ir'Indicti Series
Bumble
Shadowed
Target
Vendetta
Destroyer
* * *
High Demon Series
Demon Lost
Demon Revealed
Demon's King
Demon's Quest
Demon's Revenge
Demon's Dream
* * *
The God Wars Series
Blood Double
Blood Trouble
Blood Revolution
Blood Love
Blood Finale
* * *
The Saa Thalarr Series
Hope and Vengeance
* * *
The Finder series
Finder*
* * *
The R-D series
Cloud Dust*
*Forthcoming
Chapter 1
"I have already assigned this task to Russell," I said.
"And I am assigning it to you." Xavier, my sire, ignored me as he sat at his desk, leaning back in an excessively expensive leather chair to stare at the original Monet hanging on the opposite wall.
Xavier was impeccably dressed as always, in a navy-blue suit that complimented his eyes. Dark-blond hair was carefully cut and styled to flatter his features and his hands received a manicure once a week. Human women frequently sought him out, and he treated them as dirt beneath his heel. Sadly, he treated most vampires much the same.
Tonight, he refused to meet my eyes as he spoke, choosing instead to explore the impressionistic light Monet depicted in one of his many large paintings of water lilies. Xavier acquired it directly from the artist, shortly after it was completed and signed. He'd purchased it because it held light on its two-dimensional surface, something that neither of us could ever experience in the flesh—unless we wished to die.
"Saxom is behind this reassignment," I muttered, displaying an unusual bit of anger. After all, I'd worked very hard the past two hundred seventeen years to eliminate emotions and facial expressions—especially in my dealings with anything vampire.
Saxom, a member of the Vampire Council and second only to Wlodek, seldom did anything that failed to annoy me—at least on some level. I only used Saxom's name away from his presence, too; he preferred an unofficial title, instead—the Seer. The few times I'd had personal contact with him, I'd come away with an oily feeling of revulsion clinging to my clothes and skin.
"Adam, you may be surprised to know that it wasn't the Seer behind this decision. As he is a member of the Council and Wlodek's second-in-command, I order you to display proper respect and never voice your opinion of him to anyone except me." Xavier placed compulsion and I shuddered as his pale-blue eyes bored into mine. A sire's compulsion is impossible for any vampire to ignore, so I was forced to obey anytime Xavier commanded me.
Of Xavier's two living vampire children, I found it more difficult to accept his commands. Russell, my vampire sibling, is younger than I and also an Enforcer for the Council. He, though, has an easier time with Xavier, as Xavier knew of him before he was turned. I, having been a complete stranger, lacked the attention Xavier lavished on his youngest.
Now, having skills few others did, I'd been made Chief of Enforcers more than a century earlier, after Gavin Montegue vacated the position to become Wlodek's Chief Assassin. Xavier was instrumental in putting me forward for the Chief's spot—he and Wlodek were very close. Xavier, too, trained Russell and me to be Enforcers from the beginning. We learned fighting techniques and tactics from him, along with our first lessons on how to be properly vampire.
Turning away from my thoughts and hiding my distaste for Xavier's compulsion as well as I could, I asked the logical question. "Who, then?"
"Merrill."
That was unexpected. Saxom, yes—Merrill, no. Merrill seldom concerned himself with Council business. He never attended Council meetings, but often met with Wlodek at Wlodek's manor. I'd heard from associates that Merrill was sometimes consulted regarding hearings or executions, but I had no idea whether anything the mysterious vampire offered swayed Wlodek's opinions at all. Still, Merrill's reticence over these matters did little to quell the rumors that swirled and eddied about him.
Legend had it that he was older than many thought and more powerful than most imagined. I'd once heard the theory that he was a King Vampire, something mythical to most of my kind, but I'd only heard that theory once and certainly hadn't repeated it. Surely, if he were a King, then he'd have the position at the center of the Council's table instead of Wlodek.
"Call Russell immediately and tell him to take your assignment in Madrid. I expect you to be on the jet tomorrow evening. Contact me when you arrive in Texas." Xavier's dismissal was brusque as he turned his gaze away from me and back to the Monet. I spun without a word and stalked from his study.
* * *
The manor was badly deteriorated. Rot and other smells of ruin drifted past me as I studied my ancestral home. Barely twenty miles away from Xavier's mansion in Kent, I'd chosen to drive by before I returned to London and prepared for my trip to the U.S. The last offer I'd made on the place—in excess of three million pounds and twice its worth—had been refused.
"Father, I am trying," I whispered into the air. My father had been dead for a very long time—since 1799, in fact. I'd heard rumors that he, my mother and my younger brother Justin had never gotten over my disappearance. If not for Xavier, I would have contacted them. Many times.
With Justin's death in 1847, I was forced to cease my attempts at breaking Xavier's orders. Justin's family still lived, but they'd sold the manor immediately following his death and moved to the London townhouse. His descendants were scattered across the globe and I no longer searched them out; it was useless to do so.
The manor now lay in the hands of an eccentric and aging bastard who cared nothing for the property and was content to let it die. I despised him. Sighing, I turned and slid into my Jaguar, closing the door and starting the engine. The manor was currently a lost cause and I had many things to do before sunrise. Xavier's command had placed a decidedly unappreciated knot in my schedule.
> * * *
"Adam, what is he doing?" Russell, nearly a century younger than I, had never worried about hiding his emotions. He laughed, angered and annoyed as easily as when he'd been human. I'd phoned my vampire sibling shortly after I reached my London apartment, and Russell was just as puzzled over the change of plans as I.
"Russ, you know how things are. For some reason, Merrill has weighed in on this assignment. I don't recall that he's ever done anything like that. You and I suspect that Wlodek listens to him when he does speak, so there's nothing more to be said on the matter."
"It's still fucking strange." Russell never minced words, either.
"I'll grant you that."
"I was looking forward to Texas," Russell complained. "I bought a cowboy hat."
"You didn't." Russell, in his spare time, enjoyed barhopping and the women who invariably flocked around his six-six frame. The only thing that might be more entertaining to watch was when Russell and Will were sent on assignment together. I paired them up whenever possible, as it gave them a bit of enjoyment during what was often a dangerous and thankless occupation.
"Brother, this worries me," Russell went on. "Maybe Texas is more dangerous than we thought."
"It's a routine investigation," I countered. "Two bodies, which may or may not have been drained by a vampire." I flipped the file open as I spoke to Russell on my cell. Bite marks were on the throats of both victims, but the fang marks—if they were fang marks—were widely spaced and that was unusual. Any vampire, including the dimmest among us, knows to heal the marks after biting—even if vampire law is broken and the victim is killed afterward.
The killing of humans was against vampire law, because it might expose the race. Therefore, it only made sense to hide all evidence that any blood taking involved a vampire. Failure to do so would only bring Enforcers or Assassins, and the likelihood that the offending vampire would survive the incident was very small.
"A hundred pounds says there's something else they haven't told you," Russell countered.
"Xavier did say to call him when I arrived in Corpus Christi."
"See? You owe me already."
"That remains to be seen," I replied. "Take your cowboy hat to Madrid. Perhaps the women there will find it attractive."
"Will do, boss." Russell laughed and hung up.
* * *
"How do you expect me to feel about this?" Merrill felt helpless as he stared at Griffin. They'd been as close as brothers for fifteen hundred years, but this—this threatened everything, including Merrill's hopes and dreams. "I wish you'd never told me this. It was better not knowing the dream is dead."
"Sometimes our dreams must be set aside," Griffin replied, a depth to his eyes that Merrill was seldom allowed to see. "In order to preserve the greater good."
"Fuck the greater good," Merrill muttered.
"I did not say to give up your dreams forever," Griffin added enigmatically.
* * *
"I just arrived at the safe house. Has the Council not attended to this one in years?" I spoke with Xavier on my cell as I stared with distaste at my surroundings. The square, bunker-like accommodation was at least fifty years out of date, with avocado-colored appliances, Formica counter-tops and ugly, greenish linoleum flooring. Two bedrooms and a single bathroom, also woefully outdated, rounded out the underground portion of the only safe house in the Corpus Christi area.
"I'll make sure it's on the list for renovations," Xavier muttered dryly in my ear. "Meanwhile, it will do. I have other business to discuss with you, Adam, and I wish no interruptions." Silently I waited for Xavier to continue. When I failed to respond in any way, he sighed angrily and went on. "I didn't tell you earlier, as the situation has become delicate. One of the victims, Samuel Greene, was a werewolf belonging to the local Pack. Reports indicate he was night fishing with two human friends when he and one other was attacked and killed. The second human is still missing but presumed dead."
Xavier growled low when I failed to respond. "As you likely realize, the Grand Master is furious, since he received reports that the two recovered bodies were drained of blood and dumped in a nearby wildlife refuge. As this appears to be the work of a vampire, the Grand Master is demanding that Wlodek investigate and bring the offending vampire to justice. This could affect the peace treaty between the races, Adam. Now do you know why Wlodek and Merrill wished you to investigate this?"
If I could have, I'd have swallowed uncomfortably at Xavier's explanation. In place for less than twenty years, the fragile peace treaty between vampires and werewolves could collapse at any time, leading to open warfare between the races once more. With the technology available and the hate that remained between factions in both races, another war could have devastating results—not just for the weres and vamps, but for humans as well.
"There's another complication," Xavier added. I drew in a ragged breath. What could be more complicated than maintaining the peace between races? When I didn't respond, Xavier continued. "A local private investigator has become involved in these disappearances. The werewolves know where Samuel Greene is—they discovered his body first, then Bill Gordon's shortly after. There was no sign of Ray Wilson's body, although they have gone hunting for it several times. They desire our cooperation in locating Ray Wilson and investigating these murders. The Corpus Christi Pack is keeping the two bodies they have in storage until you can examine them. The humans have families, who are still searching for their missing. The local investigator has vowed to find them."
"I can easily work around him," I muttered when Xavier paused, expecting a response concerning the private investigator.
"She has already worked with the human families involved; the Greene family has refused to participate in her investigation," Xavier snapped. "For obvious reasons."
"Of course." I winced when Xavier said she. A female investigator. That could complicate matters.
"There's something else," Xavier said.
"And that is?"
"Her name is Anna—Anna Kay Madden, and according to her advertisements, she is a psychic investigator." I wanted to laugh at Xavier's statement. Most psychic detectives (in my opinion), were charlatans, out to bilk money from the hopeless.
"What do you want me to do about her?" I asked instead.
"Contact her. Wlodek insists upon it. Invite her to dinner or make an appointment. Find out what she knows, if anything, and proceed from there. If you believe she might be of some use, offer to work alongside her on the investigation. If she has nothing to offer, place compulsion and send her on her way. It's as simple as that."
It was never as simple as that, and Xavier knew as well as anyone that I preferred to work investigations alone or with vampire assistance only. As far as working an assignment with humans—I'd never done it and had no desire to begin now. "Stop grinding your teeth, Adam—I can hear it. Do this. I command it," Xavier said. "Keep me apprised of the situation as well. Send regular e-mails. I wish to know who—and what—Miss Anna Kay Madden is."
"I will keep you advised," I promised. I was under compulsion to do as Xavier commanded, even over the phone. That compulsion he'd laid long ago—to obey his every command no matter from where or how far away. If his voice demanded, I was compelled to obey. Did it aggravate me? On a daily basis. There was nothing to be done about it, however. Nothing at all.
"Good." Xavier ended the call. I swore and tossed my cell onto the pitifully outdated kitchen counter. It clattered across the Formica before sliding to a stop against the backsplash.
As it was nearing midnight and too late to contact the local Packmaster or the psychic detective, I stormed out of the bunker, flung myself through the trap door that led into the garage, climbed into my rented SUV and drove straight to the local 24-hour Walmart. Since I didn't have control over the investigation, I could at least control the dismal safe house.
By dawn, I had new faucets purchased for the kitchen and bathroom, new tile laid on the kitchen floor, new mattress
es on the beds, new and freshly washed sheets on both and a coat of white appliance paint applied to an abysmally ugly stove and refrigerator. Resolving to get other things done as time and home improvement shop hours allowed, I went to bed and fell into a rejuvenating sleep.
* * *
"I have Thursday night open," the local Packmaster agreed to meet and allow me to examine the two bodies he had in storage. I was pleased to learn they'd been refrigerated—Roger Prewitt owned Prewitt's Seafood, in addition to a fleet of shrimp boats, which brought in local fish and shellfish. An old, walk-in refrigerator in one of his seafood shops was currently not in use, so he'd had the bodies stored there until the Council sent someone to investigate. We agreed on a time two hours past sundown, which gave me plenty of time to rise, shower and drive to Rockport, a small town north of Corpus Christi.
It was late August in south Texas, which meant it was hot and dry inland, hot and humid near the gulf. I detested those conditions already as I located the phone number for Anna K. Madden, also listed as Madden Investigations in the local directory. Her ad proclaimed her The Investigator with an Edge, as I punched the number into my cell. Hoping she'd still be available, I waited as the phone rang three times before receiving a response.
"Madden Investigations, Rita speaking," a melodic voice with a slight Spanish accent answered. "How may I help you?" Rita added.
"May I speak with Anna Kay Madden please?" I asked as pleasantly as I could.
"Hold please." Less than a minute later, another voice came on the line.
"This is Anna Madden. How may I help you?" she asked, her voice nearly breathless.
I held back from pointing out that she was the psychic one; shouldn't she know what my difficulty was? I didn't. "My name is Adam Chessman," I told her instead. "I am investigating the disappearances of three men, at the request of Samuel Greene's family. I understand you're also working the case. I'd like to meet with you over dinner and exchange notes, if that's possible."
"Where and when?" Her voice was now a bit more businesslike.
"Tomorrow evening—is nine-thirty too late?"
"No. Would you like to meet at Jorge's Restaurant? It's on Ocean Drive in Corpus Christi. I'll make reservations. I know the owner, so getting there at that time won't be a problem."
Hope and Vengeance: Saa Thalarr, book 1 Page 1
