Dissension

by Adrienne Monson

  “Home? You mean to take them there with us? She’ll tell all the other vamps where we are! We may as well hang up a sign saying, ‘All vamps come and get us here!’”

  Tafari gathered himself, his face intensely dark and forbidding. “I will not have you questioning me, Sean. You do as you are told, and when we get back, maybe we should discuss with the council about trusting the elders to know what they are doing.”

  Sean’s back stiffened with the admonition. He did not look back at Leisha and Samantha, but withdrew himself without another word.

  Leisha and Tafari stood for a moment staring at each other. She could see some blood spots on his clothes, but knew he was fully healed from whatever wounds he had gotten. She had the craziest urge to walk up to him and kiss all the wounds inflicted on him—she clenched her fists against the feeling. Tafari had just witnessed her attacking one of his men, and at the moment, he did not appear incredibly friendly. Neither one could think of anything to say.

  Samantha jumped up and ran to Tafari, giving him a huge hug. “I’m so glad you’re all right, Tafari! I was so worried that they would capture you and do horrible experiments to you.”

  Tafari laughed easily, and Leisha felt somewhat jealous.

  “They did not follow you?” Leisha asked.

  Tafari fixed his gaze on Samantha. “No, but I daresay, they will be needing a few days of recovery time.” Before Samantha could ask any questions, Tafari put a reassuring hand on her arm. “Do not worry about your father, he will be just fine.”

  Samantha immediately eased. “Thank you so much for all that you’re doing for us. I know we’ll never be able to repay you.”

  Tafari smiled again. “Come,” he said, “let me show you where you’ll be staying for the trip.” He led Samantha by touching the small of her back, glancing back at Leisha to make sure she was coming. Leisha quickly veiled her eyes with her lashes so he would not see her apparent envy. How many times had she wished for him to be at ease with her like that? He had once looked at her with so much tenderness and adoration that it hurt deeply to see the loathing he now had for her.

  Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Leisha gave herself a mental nudge. Squaring her shoulders, she followed them below deck with all the pride she could exhibit.

  Mason was definitely getting sloppy. Andres had been studiously observing him since he arrived in Batal, and it was obvious that Mason was wrought with emotion instead of his usual cold, unquestionable logic. Although Mason tried to pretend he still had it, Andres could see he had lost his cool exterior. Mason looked disappointed, and that did not happen often.

  They did not speak as they walked through their hotel. “It will be all right,” Andres started. “At least now you know your daughter is still alive.”

  Mason’s face turned bitter. “She may be alive, but I have no clue what they’ve done to her. She might’ve been brainwashed. But at least I don’t think she’s one of them yet,” his voice dripping with disgust. Sighing, he turned to open the door to his room. “We’ll be moving early in the morning. I’m hoping my contacts will have something for me in a few hours. They’re watching the airports, trains, and bus stations. I’m sure we’ll catch up to them soon enough.” His voice hardened. “Next time, we will be prepared for any scenario.”

  Andres nodded. “I will only need a few hours of rest to recover from the tumble, mi amigo. Just knock when you hear something.”

  Mason nodded and closed the door behind him.

  Andres shook his head as he walked into his own room. Mason was gone, and there was no getting him back. It was so strange to believe that the man who had been standing before him moments ago was once his mentor when he first joined the CIA’s most elite team of assassins. A lot of men had lost it somewhere along the road, but Mason had always held it together—he’d been the strong one, dedicated to his duty to the American government, never allowing anything to disturb his conscience. Andres did not know what to think of him now.

  Pulling out his cell, he dialed Sampson’s direct line. It connected on the second ring.

  “We just got back from the attempt to retrieve Samantha,” Andres reported with no preamble. “We failed. They had an ally with them, but I am positive he is not a vampire.”

  “Do you know what he is? Is he just human?”

  “No. He didn’t move as fast as the vampires, but he healed at an astounding rate.” Andres kept his tone cool and withdrawn as he recalled the black man he had fought just a few hours ago. “I shot him at least twice; his body seemed to heal instantaneously.”

  “Really?” Sampson sounded surprised, which said a lot. “Those vampires do not heal so fast. I wonder what he is? You don’t suppose he could be a werewolf? I didn’t think they existed, but after the discovery of vampires, maybe werewolves are roaming the earth as well.”

  “I doubt he is a werewolf. He did not remotely look like a wolf at all. He fought well, though. Even with Mason and myself against him, he was able to best us.”

  “That is saying a lot now, isn’t it?”

  Andres did not bother to respond.

  A pause. “Continue to help Mason with whatever he asks, and report to me every forty-eight hours unless something pressing needs to be reported before then. And if you can capture this man who is with them, I would love to add him to our specimens in the lab.”

  “Understood.” Andres hung up.

  CHAPTER 19

  They had been sailing for five days, and Samantha enjoyed every one of them. She was able to push aside her anxieties about her father, and everything else with the vampires, as she sat on the deck soaking up the sun and the saltwater breeze.

  The immortals were finally warming up to her, and they all became somewhat protective, watching out for her safety—it was a touch on the overwhelming side. When she slipped on some water, Ian rushed to her side to help her up, insisting on escorting her below deck and wiping up the puddle of water before she returned.

  On a different occasion, she had merely mentioned her embarrassment of having to wear the same pajamas in front of everyone the entire time, and within the hour, one of the smaller built men named James had given her a pair of his pants and a t-shirt. She had to cinch a belt over the pants and roll them up, but it was nice to have clean clothes to wear. But upon reminding him that Leisha would probably also need a change of clothes, he lost his smile and quickly insisted he had no other clothes to spare.

  Samantha sighed thinking of Leisha, who’d been confined in their room for the duration, avoiding everyone, including Samantha. Tried as she might to not think too much about it to prevent herself from feeling hurt, Samantha convinced herself that Leisha might just be recuperating from her injuries. But even that did not fully deflect her from being surprised by Leisha’s sudden change of behavior. In a normal day, Leisha’s pride would take over, forcing her to show nonchalance.

  This whole hermit business had gone on for far too long—Leisha must be hurting more than Samantha could have thought. She had to seek out Tafari and talk to him.

  Tafari was a busy man. Samantha was only able to catch him at dinner in the evenings. He told her he’d been busy communicating with the council, a group of people, he explained, who lead the immortals and make sure everyone was doing their duty. Although she was curious as to why he was not a part of the counsel, she did not pursue the question. As stressed as he’d appeared, Samantha had decided it best not to pry.

  She found him below deck in the kitchen, talking to the cook. Samantha waited patiently for him to finish up. When he did, he smiled at her. “I did not notice you there. How are you?”

  She could not help but smile back. “I actually wanted to talk to you about Leisha.”

  Tafari’s smile faded. “What about her?”

  “Well,” she hesitated, “nothing, really. I just thought that . . . that maybe you could talk to your men about being a little more . . . well, polite with her?” She rushed on. “I can’t imagine that she’s very comforta
ble in our small room this whole time, and if we’re going to be on this boat much longer, I think it would be good for her to come up on deck every once in a while.”

  His warmth was gone entirely by the time she finished, his eyes shuttered. “She is allowed to go wherever she wants on the ship, but I cannot speak to my men about actually interacting with her.” Deep shadows cast on his face. “It is hard enough for them to have a vampire on board let alone not being able to lift a finger and kill her. I will ask no more of them.”

  Samantha frowned. “Do you all have to hate them so much?” She pushed out the memory of Annette before it could surface. “I know they can be cruel, but I have met a select few who are actually pretty decent.”

  He steered her along with him as he walked toward his bedroom. “Let us talk in here,” he said and shut the door behind him. He gently ushered her into a chair and sat before her on his bed, his elbows resting on his knees.

  “Samantha,” he began, “you are young, and very sweet. I must say, in the short time I have known you, I have actually become quite fond of you.”

  His compliments might be flattering, but Samantha knew he was only preparing her for something she didn’t want to hear. “What is it?” she asked.

  “Vampires and immortals have developed all kinds of different talents over the years. They are all very different and unique, but I have noticed that a lot of vampires have the capability of luring people to them. They somehow brainwash you into thinking that you like, or possibly love them.”

  “Yes, I already know that. In fact, Nik tried to lure me, but Leisha stopped him in time. Besides, Leisha said it was only temporary—only in their presence—so you needn’t worry about me being . . . bewitched by them.”

  “Nik?” Tafari inquired.

  Samantha waved a hand in dismissal. “Just another vampire. I’m sure you don’t want to hear much about them.”

  “Actually, I would not mind, if you are willing to share with me your experiences,” he said.

  Samantha opened her mouth and then closed it. He had said it a little too pleasantly. She searched his face and saw that he was keeping it blank. “Tafari,” she chided, “why would I divulge information to you when I am not supposed to give any information about the immortals to the vampires?”

  Tafari smirked. “I like you, Samantha. You have wisdom beyond your years.” He stood. “How about some dinner?”

  They dined with the rest of the crew as usual—low-key, easygoing. Samantha was laughing over some of the crude jokes they told, laughing even more whenever Tafari made a face at the punch lines. But upon realizing that she was supposed to spy on these people, she took on a more serious demeanor.

  She didn’t think she could possibly spy on them anymore. They were so nice to her, thinking she was innocent. How could she betray them like that? But she also didn’t like the idea of sacrificing Leisha to Ptah for her failure of reporting to him.

  Tears of frustration threatened to surface, but Samantha forced them away. She could have easily confessed that whole sordid night with Ptah to Leisha back in their hotel room, but Tafari had interrupted. Now, however, nothing was stopping her. Her mind made up, Samantha headed toward her room to talk to Leisha. Maybe the vampire could help her figure out what to do.

  Samantha’s determination faltered when she opened the door to see Leisha huddled on the bottom bunk in the darkness. Samantha turned on the light, but when Leisha gave a weak moan in protest, she quickly turned it off.

  Approaching Leisha, she put her hand on the vampire’s shoulder. Leisha flinched and moved out of her grasp, but not before Samantha felt her trembling like a newborn puppy.

  “What’s wrong, Leisha?”

  Leisha had kept her eyes closed all this while, but opened them to look up; Samantha gasped and stumbled two steps back. Leisha’s eyes were dilated and bloodshot, but that was not what scared Samantha. What used to be a woman she knew now resembled an animal with eyes that projected no intelligence, only violent hunger. In that very moment, Leisha could very easily drain Samantha’s life within seconds.

  “Keep away from me,” Leisha choked. “Stay on the other end of the ship, and keep one of the men with you always.” Even to whisper seemed to take up every ounce of her being. Her strength dissipating, Leisha struggled to maintain control, gasping in pain, and then turning on her side, away from Samantha.

  Samantha stood there staring, not sure of what to do. How could she help? “I’ll give you a little of my blood,” she offered.

  Leisha bolted upright, her head colliding with the bunk above her. “No! Stay away!” She was frantic, on the verge on panic. “If you don’t . . . I’ll lose control.” She swallowed. “Have Tafari barricade my door, and have men ready to kill me if I try to get out.” With that, she lay back down and curled in a ball, shaking so vigorously Samantha wondered if she was going to hurt herself.

  “Go!” Leisha screamed.

  Samantha needed no more incentive. She fled to the door and closed it, dashing above deck in search of Tafari.

  CHAPTER 20

  Leisha’s body was on fire, The Hunger moving restlessly in her mind, waiting to be sated. She strained to keep control, not letting The Hunger take over—she’d been fighting it ever since they came aboard. It had struck even before Mason and his associate showed up; combined with the drugs they had used on her and with the energy put out to brake her chains, her body demanded to be fed, and soon.

  How much longer before they made port? Even if they were to port soon, there was no guarantee her mind would be sound enough to find a murderer or rapist to kill. She couldn’t deal with the guilt of killing someone innocent again.

  Between now and then, Samantha must stay away from her—the smell of Samantha’s sweet blood caused her to almost lose control. She’d exhausted everything she had to remain immobile on the bed when Samantha touched her. The Hunger was getting restless, and she was getting weaker. It was only a matter of time.

  Leisha tensed even more when she sensed one of the immortals approaching. She cursed as the door opened, a whiff of the intoxicating scent of blood and musk permeated the room. “Get away, Tafari,” she rasped. She would never be able to live with herself if she killed him.

  “No.” He walked right up to her bed and rolled her over to face him.

  Leisha screamed and pushed herself into the wall as much as she could. “I c-can’t c-c-c-control . . . it.” She clenched her teeth, afraid to open her mouth for fear of biting down on him.

  Tafari studied her with intense curiosity. “Samantha told me that something else takes over your will if you do not feed. Is that true?”

  Leisha nodded as best she could, her body practically convulsing.

  He continued to stare down at her, a sense of pity in his expression. But she was too occupied to savor the warmth on his face, trying hard not to leap on him. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, hoping he would leave immediately.

  But he didn’t. After what seemed like an eternity, he sat on the bed next to her.

  Leisha cried at the top of her lungs, trying to turn her back, but he grabbed her arm. The pulse in his hand was like a Siren’s song, begging to be taken. The Hunger overcame her immediately and Leisha lost all control, lashing out at him.

  He pushed her back, hard, the floor cracking beneath her weight, but it didn’t matter; all The Hunger wanted was his blood. Bolting with insurmountable speed and strength, she toppled him to the floor. She clenched her thighs around his torso and pinned his arms to his sides, clamping his thighs down with her feet.

  Tafari was now practically helpless, ripe for the taking. With her hands free, Leisha easily pushed his head to the side to expose the jugular. It beckoned, and she was more than willing to comply. She could feel him wrestling beneath her, making her urge to feed more irresistible. Too hungry to bask in the moment, she lowered her mouth without reserve.

  As her lips touched his skin, Leisha’s true self fought to the surface. The memory of snug
gling into Tafari’s neck and smelling his spicy, musky scent brought her back. She remembered how she had once felt so safe and secure in his arms, knowing that their love was endless.

  Mustering all her strength to move her head back, she only managed to pull it back an inch. The Hunger was like a caged tiger, roaring and clawing at her mind, battling to possess her body. “Get out. Now,” she ground out. “I don’t know if I can contain it any longer. I’m going to jump off,” she croaked, her throat parched. “You must leave as soon as I do.”

  Exerting her body to jump to the side felt like moving through heavy molasses. Once on the side, The Hunger attacked her mind. Leisha felt her sanity strip one excruciating layer at a time. She screamed in agony and pulled herself into a fetal position to keep her body from doing something she’d regret.

  “Listen to me,” Tafari shouted—he might have already said it a few times. “You know how quickly I heal, that I can easily recover from blood loss. What if I gave you just a quart or more of my blood? Would that curb you enough to regain control?”

  It took Leisha a couple of minutes before comprehending what Tafari was saying. It was difficult enough warring with the demon in her, let alone pay attention to her surroundings. It could work, but if it didn’t . . . “I don’t know if I can keep control while feeding . . .”

  “I will keep you in line,” Tafari reassured. It was a big risk, and Tafari knew it. Why was he allowing this? It went against everything he believed.

  Leisha decided she was too desperate to worry about that. She needed blood, and Tafari was offering. She gasped out, “Okay.”

  “I will cut very deep into my wrist so it will bleed for a long enough time. You will only drink until I have healed. No more.” Pulling out a knife, Tafari cut a deep gash on his arm. He grimaced at the pain, but it barely registered with Leisha. As soon as his knife left his wrist, her mouth was pressed to it. She drank quickly, sucking in as much as she could before his cut closed up.