by Lynsay Sands
“Who’s gone missing?” Elspeth asked impatiently, and Wyatt frowned at the worry in her voice. Of course, she must know some of the hunters, but the depth of her concern made him wonder how well.
“Tell us, Sam,” Julianna demanded.
“All right, I’ll tell you,” she said unhappily. “But you can’t tell anyone else, and you absolutely cannot let Mortimer know I told you. He’d be upset with me for blabbing.”
She waited until each of the three sisters promised to abide by her rules, and then turned to him, one eyebrow arched. “You too. Promise.”
“I promise,” he said at once, rather surprised she’d bother to make him. Who could he tell? If he started blabbing about vampires who weren’t vampires but immortals, his fellow mortals would think him nuts.
“Mortimer wouldn’t,” Sam pointed out, obviously reading his mind.
“Ah.” Wyatt nodded. “Yeah, okay. Like I said, I promise not to tell anyone, even Mortimer. But I can’t stop him from reading it from my thoughts,” he pointed out.
Sam frowned at that, but then sighed in resignation and simply got to the telling. “Okay, you know they’ve been having a difficult time of it finding that Dressler guy down in Venezuela.”
Elspeth, Julianna, and Victoria nodded, but Wyatt shook his head and admitted, “I’m afraid I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about. Mortimer mentioned that a lot of his hunters were down in South America on some sort of special case, but he didn’t say what the case was.”
“The CliffsNotes version,” Alex said, “is that a lot of immortals have been going missing in North America. A trap was set to track down who was behind it. It turned out to be some guy named Dr. Dressler down in Venezuela. So, most of our rogue hunters—”
“Their proper name is Enforcers,” Elspeth interrupted to tell him. “But everyone pretty much calls them rogue hunters.”
“Right,” Alex allowed, and continued, “Most of them went down to South America to look for this guy and the immortals he’s taken. That’s why Mortimer is so shorthanded that he had to enlist the three of us and Lissianna and Rachel to help guard Elspeth,” she explained.
Wyatt nodded slowly, but commented, “From what Mortimer said, it sounded like he’s been shorthanded for a while.”
“Yeah,” Elspeth agreed. “They’ve been there for—what?” She glanced at Sam in question. “Three weeks?”
“Almost four,” Sam corrected her.
“Okay, so almost four,” Elspeth said, and then turned to Wyatt and explained, “It’s all got a bit messy. I mean, the only clues they had were that one of his men had mentioned a Dr. Dressler and some unknown island in Venezuela in front of a new turn while she was in their custody.”
“And that the plane one of the kidnapped immortals escaped from was supposed to land in Caracas,” Sam put in.
“Right,” Elspeth nodded. “But there are tons of islands off the coast of Venezuela, so they started out looking for Dressler himself. After nearly two weeks of searching everything from hospitals to land records, Lucian decided enough was enough and they were going to do it the hard way and physically look for the island where he had his compound instead. So he rented a bunch of boats and sent the hunters and volunteers out in pairs to search the islands in different areas for Dressler and his base of operations. That was—what? A week ago?” she asked Sam.
“Eight days,” Sam said quietly.
“Right. Eight days. And that’s the last I heard,” Elspeth admitted, and then peered at Sam solemnly. “So? What’s going on? How is the search going? Who’s gone missing and how did it happen?”
“They don’t know how it happened exactly,” Sam said reluctantly. “They sent the hunters out in pairs to search different areas each day, and they’d been doing it for a week when two of the boats just didn’t come back. They tried contacting them both on the boat radios and by phone, but got no response.”
“Who?” Elspeth asked, dread in her voice.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said quietly.
Wyatt could feel the way Elspeth tensed next to him, but she demanded, “Who was it?”
“Mirabeau and Eshe were in one of the boats that went missing, and Decker and Nicholas were in the other.”
Elspeth dropped back against the headboard, dismay plain on her face as Julianna and Victoria both gasped and blanched. Wyatt watched the trio with concern. It seemed obvious they all knew at least one of the people Sam had named. And well. Reaching over to touch Elspeth’s arm, he asked with concern, “Are you okay?”
When she didn’t respond, but stared silently at her hands now resting in her lap, he frowned and glanced to Sam. “Who are these people who have gone missing? At least one of them is obviously important to Elspeth and her sisters. Who—?”
“They all are,” Sam said, eyeing the sisters with pity. “Mirabeau is a friend to them all. Eshe is their aunt, and Nicholas a cousin, but Decker . . .”
“Decker is their brother,” Alex finished quietly, when Sam couldn’t seem to do it.
“Shit,” Wyatt breathed with dismay, his hand sliding down to cover Elspeth’s now. He squeezed gently and when he got no response, glanced to Sam and scowled. “How long ago did they go missing?”
“The day before yesterday,” Sam admitted solemnly.
“And you weren’t going to tell her? It’s her family, for God’s sake,” he said, anger churning in his stomach.
“Lucian didn’t want anyone told. He felt it would be detrimental to the morale of the people filling in as hunters, and—”
“Who the hell is Lucian?” Wyatt interrupted impatiently. There was no excuse for keeping something like this from her.
“He’s Elspeth’s uncle,” Alex said solemnly.
“He’s also the head of the Council, and basically Mortimer’s boss,” Sam said quietly, and then reminded him, “I did tell you that earlier.”
Wyatt shrugged the reminder away impatiently, and continued to watch Elspeth with concern. She wasn’t crying. She was just silent and still. All three sisters were. They were also incredibly pale. Shock would have been his diagnosis.
“I’m sure Decker and the others are fine, El,” Alex said, peering anxiously at her. “Lucian and the others will find them and bring them back.”
“Yes, of course,” Elspeth whispered.
Wyatt frowned at the lack of conviction in her voice and rubbed his thumb gently over her knuckles, feeling helpless. In the JTF2, his job had been to ride to the rescue in situations like this, but that wasn’t an option here. All he could do was keep Elspeth safe, offer her what comfort she would accept, and hope this Lucian fellow found her brother and the other relatives who had gone missing.
“El?” Sam said tentatively.
“What?” Elspeth asked wearily.
Sam hesitated, but then said, “Your mother doesn’t know about Decker . . . and Lucian said specifically not to tell her.”
A humorless laugh slipped from Elspeth’s lips, and she shook her head. “I’m not surprised. She’d go ballistic,” she predicted, her tone dry.
“Yeah,” Sam muttered, shaking her head. “That’s exactly what she’ll do when she reads it from your minds. Or Alex’s.” Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “I so wish Mortimer hadn’t told me. He knows I can’t keep secrets well.”
“I’m surprised she hasn’t read it from the two of you already,” Elspeth said with a frown, and then added, “Or maybe she has.”
Sam shook her head. “I didn’t tell Alex until this morning when we got up, and I’ve gotten pretty good at keeping older immortals out of my head.”
“Right,” Elspeth said on a sigh.
“Here,” Alex said, holding out a bag of blood again.
“Thanks.” Elspeth accepted the bag and slapped it absently to her fangs, as her mind worked busily over what she’d learned. Her friend, aunt, and a cousin were all missing, as was her brother. It was inconceivable. Crushing. And would be doubly so for her mother. She would literally go
a little crazy, and her thumb would come down like a hammer. She’d lock her, Julianna, and Victoria in the house and not let any of them out for a decade or more. And that was only if Decker was found alive and well. If not . . .
Elspeth couldn’t even imagine what her mother’s reaction would be then. But it didn’t matter anyway. She had no intention of allowing herself to be locked away. It was well past time she confronted her mother on this issue and let her know she wasn’t going to be controlled anymore, and wouldn’t allow her to control the twins anymore either. She had to if she wanted a life, and dammit, Elspeth wanted a life!
“I can’t believe she’d try to force you back to England like this,” Sam muttered with a scowl, obviously trying to change the subject from the missing loved ones. “Aside from the fact that you’re over a hundred forty years old and shouldn’t be forced to do anything you don’t want to do, Martine knows Wyatt is your life mate, and yet she was willing to split the two of you up.” She shook her head with disgust. “Hell, I can’t believe she wiped finding him from your memory the first time. What if he’d got hit by a car, or reenlisted in the army and got shot or, hell, just had a heart attack or something during these past four years? It could have been a millennium before you found another life mate.”
Elspeth stilled, her stomach turning at the thought of Wyatt dying. That had never occurred to her, but Wyatt was mortal and while he seemed strong and commanding, he was really quite vulnerable. At least compared to immortals. Well, not when it came to fire, she acknowledged to herself. She would have burst into flames if she’d run through the fire like he had. Still, just look at him now. It would take weeks for him to heal, weeks during which time he could get a life-threatening infection, or—
She didn’t even want to think of all the ways this man could die. While Elspeth wasn’t sure she was ready for a life mate, she was sure she didn’t even want to consider continuing on without Wyatt. Besides, they were dating now, a step toward becoming life mates, but a slow step, allowing her to adjust to the idea. And him too. But if her mother got control of her again and dragged her back to England . . .
Ripping the empty bag from her mouth, Elspeth grabbed the steak knife from the table and slid her feet off the bed. “I need to speak to Mother.”
Fourteen
Elspeth crept down the hall anxiously, glancing first ahead and then behind, her knife at the ready in case her mother popped up suddenly. She hadn’t wanted to stab herself again in the bedroom with the others watching, but the pain had eased and Elspeth knew she would have to do it again before she encountered her mother if she was going to avoid being controlled again. This time, though, she’d have to do a lot of damage. No quick stick it in and pull it out was going to work this time thanks to the bag of blood she’d consumed. She was going to have to really mess herself up, and that was something Elspeth wasn’t looking forward to. In fact, she was really wishing she hadn’t had that bag of blood now.
“Ellie, dear. I thought you would be asleep by now.”
Elspeth froze halfway through the kitchen door, her eyes widening as she stared at her aunt Marguerite standing by the blood refrigerator with a bag of the dark red liquid in hand.
“Ellie? Is there something wrong?” her aunt asked, closing the refrigerator door and moving toward her with concern.
“No. Of course not,” she said quickly, forcing a smile and managing not to back out of the room and make a run for it. “I was just . . .” She shrugged helplessly, and then asked, “What are you doing up?”
Marguerite hesitated, looking like she really wanted to press Elspeth on the issue of why she was there, but then simply said, “I have to get up every two hours in the day to have blood.”
“Oh.” Elspeth shifted her feet and glanced back up the hall, muttering, “Mom had to do that while she was pregnant with the twins to be sure the nanos didn’t abort the pregnancy.” The nanos tended to see the fetus as an invading body, a drain on their host that needed to be removed if the host didn’t consume enough blood to combat that. Blinking, she turned abruptly back to Marguerite, her eyes growing wide when she saw her aunt’s face. “You’re pregnant?”
Marguerite smiled widely and nodded. Then, her expression becoming serious, she said, “Julius and I don’t want to tell anyone until at least the second trimester. In case . . .”
In case she lost the baby, Elspeth thought. Managing a smile, she nodded in understanding. “Of course. I’ll keep it to myself, and I’ll try not to think of it so no one can read it from my thoughts.”
Marguerite relaxed and beamed at her. “Thank you.” Lifting the bag of blood in her hand, she raised her eyebrows. “Did you need blood? There’s plenty here. I had Bastien send a shipment over at once when I found out about the fire and suggested you all come here.”
“No, thank you, I’m good. I—” Elspeth’s words died abruptly, her mind going blank. She was vaguely aware of the sudden concern on Marguerite’s face, and then her aunt reached her and moved her out of the doorway to take her place. Elspeth was immediately free to think again. Blinking, she backed quickly away from the door, her fingers tightening around the knife she held.
“Martine,” Marguerite said with surprise. “For a minute I thought whoever has been attacking Elspeth had broken in and taken control of her. I—”
“Move, Marguerite. I can’t see her.”
“But—Elspeth!”
She heard that shocked cry from her aunt as the woman turned and saw her plunge the knife in, but Elspeth ignored it and ground her teeth as she then twisted the blade, causing as much damage as possible.
“Dammit, Marguerite,” Martine snapped, pushing her way past the woman and entering the kitchen to see what Elspeth was doing. Mouth tightening when she saw the injury to her leg, she turned on the woman with frustration, and bit out, “This was what I was trying to prevent. If you hadn’t intervened I’d have control of her and she couldn’t have done this.”
“Which is what I’m trying to prevent,” Elspeth gasped, drawing her mother’s attention back to her. Leaving the knife in her leg so the wound couldn’t heal, she straightened and, in a voice high and strained, said, “I know about the plane. Did you really think I’d just let you take control of me and force me back to England to be your prisoner again?”
“Oh, stop being so melodramatic,” Martine said with disgust, moving determinedly toward her. “I’m your mother, not some kidnapper. England is your home.”
“My home is here now,” Elspeth argued, and tugged the knife from her leg to point it at her mother instead. “Stay back.”
Martine paused, her eyes widening in surprise at the unspoken threat, but then impatience flashed across her face. “Stop being ridiculous and put that knife down, Elspeth. You will not hurt me,” she added with confidence. “I’m your mother, and I’m just doing what’s best for you. You know that.”
“Really?” Elspeth asked with disbelief, her fingers tightening on the knife. “Taking me away from my life mate is what’s best for me?”
Marguerite gasped in horror and Martine’s mouth tightened before she growled, “You’re too young for a life mate. You want to have a life and experience some things before you settle down.”
“Experience what, Mother? Doing what you make me do, eating what you order me to, going to bed when I’m told?” She snorted. “That’s not a life. It’s incarceration.”
“I’m your mother,” Martine growled furiously.
“Then start acting like it,” Elspeth snapped. “Be my mother instead of my jailer.”
“Elspeth Argeneau Pimms,” Martine said sternly. “I am your mother. I know what’s best for you, and you will listen to me or I’ll make you listen.”
“You’ll try,” Elspeth agreed dryly. “But I’ll just keep stabbing myself so you can’t.”
“Wow,” Marguerite breathed as Elspeth and her mother fell into a war of glares. “I never expected this.”
“That’s because you have good, dut
iful children who listen to their mother,” Martine growled, glowering at Elspeth.
“Actually, my children ignore my advice all the time,” Marguerite said quietly. “And I’m glad they do. It means I did my job, which was to teach them to be independent and take care of, as well as think for, themselves.” When her sister-in-law frowned at her, she added, “What I meant was that I never expected this from you, Martine. I never imagined for a minute that you’d turn out to be just like Jean Claude.”
“What?” Martine’s jaw dropped with amazement, and then snapped closed. She ground out, “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m nothing like my brother.”
“Aren’t you?” Marguerite asked solemnly. “Controlling Elspeth and making her eat what you think is right, and go to bed when you think it’s best is bad enough but—Do you really do that?” she asked with disbelief.
“She does it to all three of us, myself and the twins,” Elspeth put in when her mother merely scowled.
“Children will eat junk food and stay up all day if it is left up to them,” Martine said coldly. “I am just looking out for their health.”
“Elspeth is one hundred forty-two years old, Martine. Well past the age where you should be interfering like this,” Marguerite said firmly. “And the twins are adults too. You have no more right to take control of them and make them do your bidding than Jean Claude had the right to do it to me.”
“I’m their mother,” Martine began again.
“And Jean Claude was my husband,” Marguerite interrupted. “And I hated him. I loathed him with all my heart and soul for controlling me like that. What do you think your children feel for you? What do you think Elspeth feels? For God’s sake, she’s butchering herself just to maintain control of her own life, Martine. You can’t really think she’ll ever thank you for that?”
“One day she’ll understand,” Martine said stubbornly. “And then she’ll—”
“Understand what? That you’re doing this for her good?” Marguerite interrupted, and gave a short laugh. “Preventing her from being with her life mate is not good for her, and you know that. The only person it might benefit is you, if it makes it easier for you to control her.”
