BloodPledge

by Tima Maria Lacoba

  ‘No rumours, then?’

  He scratched his head, making his wiry hair stick up. ‘There was one, but I only caught the tail end. It didn’t make sense.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Something about, “not in a house ... couldn’t be sensed”. That’s all I heard.’

  He was telling the truth. Although it wasn’t much, it was better than nothing. Yet, if he’d heard correctly what did it mean? ‘When?’

  ‘Two nights ago, at one of our regular feeding spots. They were too intent to notice me.’

  ‘Who?’ I leant on the arms of his chair and brought my face close to his.

  ‘I don’t know. Only heard their voices.’

  ‘You sure you weren’t sensed and given a false lead?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  I straightened and strode back to my seat, turning his words over in my head. Timur was still in the city, of that I was certain, and his puppet Rasputin was probably with him. Would Stockton, and what was left of his gang, be with them also? And what about the white-oak bullets? How were the Rebels getting hold of them? It was pointless to ask. Fifty years ago I had asked, and he was lucky to still be alive. But since the introduction of the Internet, everything had changed. Traffic in those bullets, among the Brethren, was impossible to police. Still, anyone found in possession.... I looked at Dawson. He was clean; no smell of the stuff on him. That’s not to say he wasn’t involved in other nefarious dealings, but that was beyond my jurisdiction.

  ‘Anything else I can help you with, princeps?’

  I could sense how badly he wanted me out of his shop. My presence was bad for business. But I wasn’t finished yet. Laura and I should have been joined tonight after the Pledging, and that had been disrupted. I’d caught the disappointment in her voice. Since Dawson was unable to provide me with all the information I wanted, I decided to prolong his agony just a little longer.

  I sat back in my seat and folded my arms.

  ‘I don’t know any more!’ The dismay on his face was almost comical.

  ‘I need a diamond ring,’ I said.

  In an instant, his expression turned from wary to business-like, and he grinned. ‘I can help you there. What are you after?’

  ‘What can you show me?’

  ‘For you, nothing but the best.’ He jumped up – I could sense his relief – unlocked one of the metal cabinets, removed a couple of trays and placed them on the table. Then, very carefully, he emptied the contents of both. Diamonds of various shapes and sizes spilled out and glittered on the dark velvet.

  I picked up a few and examined them. They were all well cut, but somehow not what I imagined she would like. Many were too large and gaudy. Laura was elegant and graceful with a softness about her that I wanted the ring to reflect.

  ‘Nothing here you like, princeps?’

  ‘They’re all beautiful, but I want something different.’

  He stared at me a moment, ‘Uh, um... okay, in that case,’ he moved to another cabinet and unlocked it. ‘Let me show you this.’

  He took out a small, purple velvet pouch and handed it to me. I peered inside at a delicate heart-shaped stone with a pink centre like a soft heart. As I lifted it to the light, its myriad colours shifted and changed, and the rosy fire in its core turned to amethyst.

  I had found Laura’s ring. ‘This one.’

  ‘Knew you’d like it. One of the nicest pieces I’ve seen in a long time, and exquisitely cut. What about the setting? Gold or platinum?’

  ‘Gold. Plain band so as not to detract from the stone.’

  Even though I hoped she would like the heart-shaped diamond, Laura deserved to have a choice. ‘I’ll bring the young lady here to choose for herself, but make sure you include that.’

  He was too shrewd to ask who it was for, but I knew he would guess.

  ‘Don’t worry, princeps, if the lady doesn’t like it, I’ll have no trouble selling it.’

  We shook hands, and I left.

  The run back to the house took only a few minutes. The emergency services had left, and so had the neighbours.

  Sommers’s car was nowhere to be seen. Good, I don’t need him haunting my steps.

  Jake had moored the yacht at the jetty, and I could hear the men’s voices on board. Sam had returned as well. As I passed the wisteria-covered pavilion near the water’s edge, I stopped and inhaled. The heavy, floral perfume clouded his scent, but it was unmistakable. Sommers! He was here. Looking around, I took another breath. He was here, all right, behind one of the large fig trees. That position would give him a perfect view of the yacht – and us.

  Damn! I didn’t know whether to be annoyed by his persistence or admire his tenacity. Whichever, he had to be stopped. But, not right now. I was happy to let him sit there the rest of the night. His human hearing couldn’t pick up our conversation from that distance, so for now, he posed no danger.

  I leapt on board and made my way to Laura’s room. From her gentle breathing, she was asleep. All the same, I rapped gently on her door before opening it. In the darkness, I moved to her side and knelt by the edge of the bed. Her face was toward me, lips slightly parted, tantalising and inviting, her long hair spilling over the pillow like liquid bronze. My hands itched to touch her face, to feel her silken softness, but it might wake her. Instead, I leaned down, kissed her brow and whispered, ‘Pleasant dreams, my darling.’

  I closed the door quietly behind me and joined the men in the wheelhouse, on the topmost deck.

  Sam sat at the helm, Luc, Cal and Jake lounged on deck chairs, while Karl, Milena and Kari occupied a padded bench by the wall.

  ‘Sommers is out there, watching the boat.’ I stood next to Sam and leaned back against the console.

  ‘Been keeping an eye on him,’ Sam said. ‘As long as he stays there, he’s no threat.’

  ‘I told you, you should’ve killed him.’ Luc rose, strode to the side of the boat and glared in the direction of the trees where Sommers lurked.

  ‘Why’s he here?’ Jake asked.

  ‘On the news,’ I jerked my head in the direction of the house.

  Luc snorted. ‘That’s all we need.’

  ‘Who’s Sommers?’ Milena asked.

  Jake filled her in on the details. I assumed that Karl must have told her the dangerous double game he’d played to keep them both safe. And from the way her gaze shifted continuously between the two men, it appeared as if she were weighing up the merits of them both.

  ‘Then I agree with Lord Lucien. You should’ve killed him,’ she remarked.

  ‘I don’t regret my decision. You never know, it might prove to be a providential one.’ I had a feeling and hoped I was right. ‘How’s Terens?’

  ‘He’s okay. The arm’s regenerating.’ Karl twirled an empty, red-stained glass in his hands. A positive. The sweet aroma hung in the air. ‘We put him in one of the cabins.’

  ‘Find out anything from Dawson?’ Luc turned and looked at me.

  ‘Not much. Only overheard snatches. Something about Timur not being somewhere he can be sensed. Not in a house.’

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’ Cal said.

  ‘What, like in a plane?’ Jake’s brow creased. ‘You can’t keep flying round and round. At one point you’ve got to land and refuel. Unless...’ he had everyone’s attention. ‘... it’s in the desert. Far enough away that you and Luc wouldn’t be able to hear.’

  ‘Not his jet,’ Sam remarked. ‘I’ve disabled it. Waited for him to show, but he didn’t.’ I glanced at his hands. They were streaked and smelled of grease.

  I shook my head. ‘A plane would be impractical. More like....’ As I tried to make sense of it, a thought occurred to me.

  ‘Go on,’ Luc prompted.

  ‘Water masks scent.’ I gazed at each of them in turn. ‘I’m guessing they’re on a boat. That’s why he didn’t return to his jet. He doesn’t need it.’

  ‘If you’re right, he’s one clever bastard,’ Sam said. ‘There are thousands of boa
ts in these waters.’

  ‘But how many are large enough for his entourage? He and his sidekick aren’t alone.’

  ‘I agree,’ Luc said. ‘A rebellion on the scale he’s planning needs a lot of supporters.’

  ‘Narrows down our search somewhat.’ Sam spun his seat around to face the console and began typing into the computer. ‘I’ll start with the larger motor yachts and see who’s hired or bought one recently. Then check out any new arrivals.’

  ‘We don’t have much time. The proscription’s changed everything,’ Karl said. ‘Now that there’s a price on Timur’s head, he’ll be desperate to get back to Hungary – secure his territories.’

  Karl didn’t need to state that his own lands would be under threat if that were allowed to happen. The Principate could lose Eastern Europe.

  I had to act.

  There were only a couple of hours of darkness left. If Sam could ferret out Timur’s hiding place, I could follow it up in daylight hours – without Luc. As Judith’s blood lost its potency, so did his daylight tolerance. For the first time in nearly eighteen-hundred years, Luc was returning to the nocturnal habits of the Brethren, although his great age still made him a formidable foe. But could I risk boarding a vessel alone? Chances were, Timur could have human minions on guard, possibly armed with white-oak. Yet I could speed past without them knowing I was there, find Timur and Rasputin, and execute them both. End of problem.

  Could it be that simple?

  Chapter 16 - The Best Laid Plans

  ALEC

  Come sunrise, the men retired to their cabins below decks. Only Luc remained, and he was about to join Judith. Sam had managed to identify at least four boats that fitted Timur’s needs; three charted in the past week, while the other was a private yacht that sailed into the harbour yesterday.

  As far as I was aware, the human owner had no connection with the Brethren. Still, it was worth checking. All four yachts were moored nearby. I would take the launch and inspect them, and if Timur and Rasputin were on board one of them, I was prepared. I loaded the white-oak bullets into the gun, wrapped it in plastic – in case I needed to get in the water – placed it in the holster and strapped it around my shoulder. It was well hidden by my T-shirt.

  Even this early in the morning, the harbour teemed with watercraft. It was to be expected in summer when tourists flocked here to enjoy a warm Christmas and the famous fireworks of New Year’s Eve.

  The first yacht I located was moored at Rose Bay, only three-and-a-half nautical miles south. It was a tri-deck yacht, roomy enough to take a larger party, but small enough to avoid suspicion. Somehow it didn’t fit the image of the Hungarian Prefect, but it was best to check.

  It took less than twelve minutes to cover the distance from Watson’s Bay, where Luc had moored the yacht, and round the bushland peninsula of Sydney Harbour National Park. In the sheltered waters of Rose Bay, a scattering of leisure craft, fishing boats and dinghies bobbed precariously in the backwash of a passing ferry. Over there – my first target lay at anchor.

  I slowed the launch and circled it, looking for human guards. There was no sign of anyone, and I couldn’t get a scent. The water blocked my sense of smell. I would have to get on board.

  Manoeuvring the launch alongside, I crept on deck and ducked lower than the windows of the main stateroom. No voices, but several heartbeats came from the lower decks – slow, steady, human. Humans sleeping. In the corridor, I picked up scents again. There were no Brethren on board. My hunch had been right. This boat was too modest for Timur.

  Back in the launch, I checked the printout Sam had given me and decided to try for the largest of the vessels, a five-deck megayacht moored in Double Bay – less than one-and-a-half nautical miles to the south-west. It was more in keeping with Timur’s style – grand and ostentatious.

  Five minutes later, in the wake of a commuter ferry, I was hidden from the giant yacht. As the ferry slowed and pulled into the wharf, I cut the engine and dropped anchor near the marina. The vantage point gave me a clear view. No one appeared to be moving about. Listening for voices, I picked up snippets of conversation, enough to deduce that Timur and Rasputin were on board.

  I removed my shoes, slid into the water and swam the short distance to Timur’s yacht. Not needing to breathe, I could remain submerged as long as necessary, and if they were expecting me, I hoped they wouldn’t peer into the depths. I broke through the surface and climbed onto the main deck.

  Once on board, I detected the presence of several humans, some I assumed to be part of the charter-boat crew – captain, first mate, navigator, cook and cleaner.

  My presence wouldn’t remain undetected for long. A puddle was forming at my feet. No matter how fast I moved I’d leave a soggy trail behind. I didn’t bother to check the serpent ring, knowing its eyes would be black.

  No time to waste. I pulled out the gun, removed the plastic wrapping, and after checking to make sure it was dry, took the stairs down to the lowest deck. If this yacht followed the standard pattern of design, the crew’s bedrooms would be here, below the waterline. For Timur and his entourage, it would be ideal sleeping quarters – no windows, no chance of sunlight seeping through to endanger the vampires within.

  I stopped, inhaled, and detected the presence of ten Brethren – Timur among them – and two humans. Yet I picked up no hint of Rasputin. Where was he? I passed through the exterior door and entered a narrow corridor.

  Voices – human guards. There were at least two guarding the door to Timur’s room. They were discussing football results. I rounded the corner, raced toward them and knocked them unconscious before they knew I was there. The door they guarded was locked. I broke it and walked in.

  Timur was supine on the bed, deep in the coma-like vampire sleep.

  I withdrew my gun and aimed for his chest, too intent on my quarry to register a change in scent, or hear approaching footsteps.

  ‘Drop the gun.’ A familiar voice came from behind.

  Damn! Sommers. What is he doing here? I retained my stance and turned my head. He was pointing a gun at my back. ‘What are you doing here?’

  The smell of white-oak filled my nostrils. Son of a bitch! Luc had been right; I should have killed him.

  ‘Preventing a murder. As I said, put the gun down.’

  ‘You’ve no idea,’ I said over my shoulder. ‘This man,’ I waved my gun, ‘is a killer! If he’s not stopped—’

  ‘That’s the law’s job, not yours. You’ve got three seconds to drop it or I fire!’

  Tension resonated through his body like a coiled spring. I didn’t have time for this. The ship’s engines started and the anchor rattled. One of the guards groaned and swore. Soon the other one would be awake as well – his companion would see to that.

  To give the impression of surrender, I lowered my gun, spun on my heel and struck Sommers on the side of the head. My speed would have been like a blur to him. As he went down, I snatched the gun from his hand and pocketed it.

  One guard was now fully conscious. He stood in the doorway, eyes wide, blocking my escape. ‘Princeps,’ he muttered. He kicked his still unconscious companion in an effort to rouse him. Before I could stop him, he pressed the red alarm button on the wall behind him. An ear-splitting shrill reverberated throughout the boat.

  My opportunity to execute Timur had gone.

  Sommers! The man was becoming the proverbial thorn in my side. For a moment I was tempted to leave him to his fate. Instead, I picked up his unconscious body and threw it over my shoulder, pushed the guard out of my way and raced down the corridor at breakneck speed. Behind me, I heard yelling and gunfire, but at this speed there was no chance of being hit.

  Startled humans appeared in the doorway ahead. I barged past, ran up the stairs onto the main deck and was about to jump into the water when I spotted an aluminium dinghy. It hadn’t been there before, so I assumed Sommers had used it to follow me here.

  Holding him tightly to my shoulder, I leapt off and l
anded in the dinghy, dumped him in the passenger seat and searched his pockets for the key.

  Seconds later I was speeding back to my launch near the marina. I glanced behind to see the megayacht leave its moorings and head toward open sea. Several humans ran around the main deck like disorientated ants, looking out over the railings, some with binoculars, some pointing. Something whizzed past my ear and I caught the whiff of white-oak. I swore and pushed the throttle to maximum.

  Soon, I was easing the aluminium dinghy alongside my launch. I secured it to the stern, hauled Sommers – still unconscious – from the seat and climbed into my boat. The marina was quiet. Few people were about in the early morning, and thankfully those who were weren’t looking my way. Just to be sure we didn’t attract any unwanted attention, I lay Sommers along one of the padded benches, folded his arms over his chest, crossed one leg over the other and placed a cap over his face. He looked the picture of relaxation. Satisfied, I removed my leather gloves, slipped them in my back pocket then whipped off the wet T-shirt and dropped it on the seat. After checking that Sommers was still out, I started the engine and sped back to the yacht.

  I tied him to a chair in the main salon then perched on the edge of one of the sofas directly opposite him. My wet jeans squelched on the leather. I didn’t want to leave Sommers unattended in case he regained consciousness.

  I sat and gazed at his bowed head, shaking my head at his tenacity. He must have waited behind that tree all night before following me. There were dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his chin. It would have been so easy to have left him with Timur’s thugs. But something in my nature baulked against it. I toyed with the idea of mesmerising him again and placing him back in his car. He’d wake up believing he’d parked there and fallen asleep. Yet that didn’t seem an adequate solution to the problem. Mesmerisation worked best on the weak minded, where its effects were permanent. Matthew Sommers was not of that ilk, and it would be only a matter of time before he either worked it out, or his memory returned.