by Julia Mills
“Yes.” The Enforcer’s one-word answer dropped like a live grenade between Alaric and Mateo. Long seconds ticked by until Clarence finally added, “I saw the tartan. I know it is from Clan MacAngoran. I further know that your grandmother, Brygid and her consort, Androu, made that the colors of their Clan of Vampires just about the time you were Made.”
Knowing there was more to come, Alaric drained his glass and slammed it onto the mahogany top of his eighteenth-century Governor’s desk. Pulling open the bottom desk drawer, he lifted out a new bottle of Macallan 25, cracked the seal, refilled his glass and downed it as Clarence began again.
“I also know that you have been nowhere near San Antonio, specifically the site of The Alamo in the last thirty days.” Clearing his throat, the Enforcer spoke to his protégée, “Show him the other photos, Mateo.”
Drinking another two fingers of Scotch, Alaric grabbed Mateo’s phone as it slid across the desktop and thumbed through eleven more photos of six more victims. Each brutally drained, half-eaten, then left with a signet ring from the MacAngoran Clan and a ribbon of tartan.
Sitting back in his chair, Alaric finally answered the Enforcer’s initial question, “The first ring belonged to Brygid. It is one of a kind, matches mine and was given to us by the Leader of the Dragons when our bond was forged.”
“And the others?”
“You mean for those later turned?”
“Yes.” Again, Clarence’s one-word answer grated on Alaric’s frayed nerves, but he knew answering was the quickest way to get rid of the asshole.
“They had simple gold bands, very little scrollwork, smaller rubies, all etched with the flaming dragon wings.”
“And the ones in the photographs, where did they come from?”
“I have no clue. They look newer. The bands are plain like I said,” he ground out. “Even the older rings had some scrollwork, it was the one thing besides the etched ruby that Brygid demanded.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “There are only four of us left from what she called the Ceannródaí or Pioneers. Have you found the others?”
“We are looking.” Clarence’s voice actually held the slightest touch of what Alaric thought might have been empathy, but then he spoke again, and all that remained was the steely resolve to find the rogue Vampire running around Texas on a murder spree. “There’s one more thing you need to know.”
“And what might that be?” Alaric grumbled, taking a drink straight from the bottle.
“There is something I left out of the photos, the last piece of the puzzle that assures me it is either one of the remaining MacAngoran Vampires or someone trying to frame you and yours by killing humans and leaving their bodies out in the open.”
“Go on, Mr. Wizard, tell me. I can’t think of anything more damning than the tartan.”
“What about white roses with their thorns removed? Ring any bells?”
“Son of a bitch, I will decapitate the bastard myself,” Alaric roared, throwing his glass against the far wall before storming out of the office.
Chapter Six
Returning to her seat, having more fun than she’d ever expected, Ashlynn took a long drink of her iced, disguised as beer in a Corona bottle compliments of Sampson, as Leslie came bouncing her way giggling like a schoolgirl. “Damn Ash, I didn’t think you had it in you. Getting spanked by a Dom in a leather mask? What will the other doctors say?”
“Who gives a shit? It’s a party,” she whooped, drinking what was left of her tea before slamming the empty bottle down on the table and laughing, “So, tell me Dr. Party Pants, how am I doin’?”
“I’m givin’ you an A for attitude with a positive outlook for a clean sweep on the rest of the night.”
“Have you been able to persuade tall, dark and hooded hottie to go home with you yet?” Ashlynn asked, having witnessed her friend’s dogged pursuit of a certain Dom with smoky grey eyes and a tattoo of a black panther covering the left side of his chest.
“I’m wearing him down, Ash. Ya’ know what they say, the best part of getting the guy is the chase.” Leslie laughed out loud, setting her empty glass on the table alongside her others. “And girl, I’m havin’ a damn fine time.”
“Get ‘em, Les,” the young doctor hollered at her friend’s back as the phone in her back pocket began to vibrate.
Pulling the red-and-white-heart-covered device from her pocket, Ash immediately read ‘911’ on the screen and headed for the door. Typing and sending her response as she went. ‘On the way. ETA 15 minutes.’
Reaching for the knob, her hand collided with another much larger, much colder one. Looking up, ready to yell at whoever was in her way, Ash tried to remain calm as her eyes met Sampson’s. Holding up her phone, she explained, “Gotta go. One of my patients just took a turn for the worst.”
“Oh shit,” he responded. “Do your friends know?”
Feeling horrible that she hadn’t thought about Leslie, Cecily or the others, Ashlynn shook her head and started to turn, but Sampson’s free hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks as he spoke into his headset, “Hey Axel, when this part of the act dies down and the ladies are waiting for the last set of guys, can you tell Leslie and Cecily that Ashlynn had an emergency at the hospital.”
There was a second of silence before Sampson nodded, “Will do, Brother. Thank you.” Wrapping the hand that had been on her shoulder around her hand, he opened the door with the other and pulled her along, calling over his shoulder, “Come on, I’ll get you out of here as quick as I can.”
Jogging to keep up with the long strides of the man she would always think of as ‘the Viking’, Ashlynn typed, ‘Need vitals’ on her phone and hit send as they traveled down one hall, made a left, and headed towards the soft, sensual music of the dancefloor at the front of the club.
Stopping just short of running into Sampson’s back as she was reading the message on her phone, Ash pushed up onto her toes and with her mouth close to his ear asked, “What’s the holdup?”
Turning to the side, she saw the frown on Sampson’s face as he gruffly replied, “Looks like Security’s breaking up some kind of scuffle. Thankfully it doesn’t happen very often. Mostly because if you cause any kind of disturbance you’re banned for life and Alaric, the owner, has a really long memory.”
“Is there any other way out? I hate to be a pain in the ass, but I need to get to Children’s Medical Center down off Harry Hines Blvd as soon as possible.”
Without answering, the Viking touched the button on his headset and ordered, “Get me a taxi. Have them out front and ready to roll in two minutes. Tell them there’s a hundred-dollar tip in it for them if they can get the fares to Children’s Medical in ten minutes.”
Astounded that a man she’d just met, a vampire to boot, would help her in such a way, filled Ashlynn with hope. Her mom had always said she should look for signs of faith at work, and that when she found them, it meant there were more to come. Ash could only pray her mom had been right and that the good fortune she was having would spread over to her patient.
“Hold on,” was the only warning she got before Sampson lifted her feet off the floor, placed her over his shoulder and in a loud booming voice announced, “Outta the way people. Make a path. Injured guest needs medical attention. Make a path. Make a damn path, will ya’?”
Not putting up a fuss because he was getting her through the crowd, Ash still couldn’t help being embarrassed that her butt was in the air while being carried out of the hottest nightclub in Dallas by a really good-looking Vampire. Keeping her eyes closed tight, not wanting to ogle her new friend’s backside, she knew the second they’d crossed over onto the dancefloor when the clomp of the heels of Sampson’s boots could be heard over the loud music.
Praying to God, no one recognized her or rather her ass, what Sampson had said before throwing her over his shoulder finally registered in her otherwise occupied brain. So, it was true. Alaric, the elusive millionaire or billionaire or insanely rich man, however,
someone described him in one of the many articles written about him, was a Vampire. She guessed that explained his elusive nature and the mystical look he exuded in every photograph she’d ever seen. It was probably easier to stay out of the limelight whenever possible, even though Vampires had been ‘out of the coffin’ for years.
They were blamed for any and every crime committed, at least in Dallas, Houston and San Antonio where she had hospital privileges and tended to be. It really was a shame that Vampires were treated so badly after admitting that they truly did exist. She’d always been of the opinion that if they felt more comfortable, maybe some would come forward and consent to have their blood studied. Who knew, maybe there was something in there that could be synthesized to help others of their kind, as well as humans. But as it was, she knew there was a real danger of them becoming little more than lab rats to some overzealous, megalomaniac hell-bent on world domination.
Pulled from her thoughts as Sampson put her feet on the floor and turned her towards the door, Ashlynn spoke over her shoulder as she rushed to the waiting cab. “Thank you so very much, Sampson. You’ve been a lifesaver. I owe you lunch or coffee.”
“No problem, anyt…”
“Sampson!” The roar came from somewhere behind them cutting off whatever the Viking was about to say. “Sampson! Stop! Now! Get her back here.” The voice continued as Ash jumped into the cab and Sampson slammed the door, pounding on the trunk of the bright yellow vehicle as a signal for the driver to go.
Squealing away from the curb, driving well over the speed limit, Ash reached for her seatbelt and took a glance out the back window, wanting to at least mouth another ‘Thank you’ to Sampson. What she saw had her turning completely around and getting on her knees to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.
There, in the middle of the street, was Sampson holding back an obviously pissed off Alaric, aka, sexy club owner. Trying to look more closely as the taxi sped away, Ashlynn attempted to read the Vampire’s lips, but sadly, she was too far away.
Taking her seat and buckling her belt after nearly being thrown onto the floor when the cab driver took a corner on two wheels, Ashlynn forgot about whatever was happening at CRAVE as her phone once again alerted her to another text message. Reading the words, ‘Prepping for Surgery. Stent is malfunctioning.’, she could only pray that she got there in time. Her only priority at the moment was saving Timmy James, not a night out with friends, not a new friend, not even a millionaire Vampire she almost got to meet.
“Life and death never takes a break. Hold on Timmy, I’m coming.”
Chapter Seven
“Get your fucking hands off of me,” Alaric roared, slamming his fist into Sampson’s jaw. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” He swung again at the shocked Viking he’d known for centuries. Only hitting air as Sampson took a step to the right, the momentum spun him completely around, to find a glaring Ruari at his back.
“Calm down, Boss,” his Second whispered in warning, signaling over his shoulder with a slide of his eyes. “You and Sam need to be careful. Someone might think you’re doin’ more than messin’ around.”
“Yeah, Alaric, I thought we were due for training tomorrow,” Sampson joked, helping with the façade Ruari was creating. “I get that you want to sharpen your street-fighting technique, but damn, surprise attacks don’t come til later.”
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m losing my mind. Sniffing the air and looking over his shoulder, it took all of his hard-fought control not to run after the woman who smelled like poppies and buttercups and had a voice like an angel.
I have to know who she is. I have to have her…possess her…she is mine…
Vibrating with rage, ignoring Mateo as the Enforcer stood nearly ten feet back with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet shoulder width apart, Alaric did an about-face and stalked away, calling telepathically to Ruari, “Meet me in the Galley. Bring Sampson.”
Turning abruptly into the alley running between CRAVE and the empty building that used to be a seafood restaurant called The Galley, Alaric scented the air, holding tightly to the lingering scent of the flowers of his homeland, trying to conjure up what the woman who’d been thrown over Sampson’s shoulder truly looked like.
Punching in the code on the electronic keypad, he entered the building he’d bought and refurbished for more than just extra offices for his staff and went straight to the back. Opening the three-and-a-half-foot thick steel door that led to the twenty-five by twenty-foot vault he’d had installed, he went straight to the refrigerator, took out three bags of blood and tried to quench his thirst before the others arrived.
Images of his daydreams infiltrated his mind. The woman he’d seen with Sampson had the same silken curls, the same glorious smile, mesmerizingly chocolate brown eyes and the most erotically devastating curves he’d ever witnessed.
“And I want to rip that fucking Viking’s throat out for ever touching her,” he growled.
Downing all three bags of the crimson liquid in minutes, nearly gagging on the cold, stale, stagnant, utterly insipid flavor of what had sustained him for so many centuries, Alaric disposed of the empty bags as he heard the approach of the others. Not surprised to see Mateo in attendance, he calmly asked, “What can I do for you? I was under the impression our business was suspended until you have further information for me.”
Smirking like a Cheshire cat, the newest Enforcer scoffed, “The shattered crystal on your office floor and the vanishing bruise on Sampson’s chin say otherwise.” Stepping forward, he narrowed his eyes. “Wanna tell me what’s going on with you?”
Shrugging as he sat on the edge of the cherry wood desk and crossed his ankles, Alaric opened his arms wide. “Nothing I’m aware of.” Holding onto the growling, seething beast within his soul, squelching the flames threatening to burst forth from his fingertips, he added with a wink and an exaggerated southern twang that sounded all the funnier combined with his Scottish brogue. “Business as usual here in the Big D, Sir.”
Adding a mock salute at the end, sure he’d taken things one step too far for the uptight, obviously-trying-to-impress-his-boss Enforcer, Alaric prepared to defend his actions when Mateo snatched his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket. Holding up the index finger of his free hand, Mateo answered the call.
“Bianchi here.”
Silence filled the vault as the deep voice of Clarence Collins filled the room even though the call was not on speakerphone. “There is another body. Dragon Park, a small privately-owned reserve on the north side of Dallas.”
“Same as the others?”
“Worse.” Clarence cleared his throat. “This one is missing its head and hands, and…” There was a pause in which Alaric could hear the ancient Enforcer speaking to another. When he returned, his voice was laced with a rage Clarence usually kept within his iron grip. “It was just confirmed that the woman is Vampire. Young, only a few hundred years old. Still unable to stand daylight and easily subdued by one older and stronger. Is Alaric there?”
“Aye, I’m here.”
“This one has a message I am assuming is for you.” Clarence’s voice held more than a little accusation.
Gripping the edge of the desk with such force he could feel the wood splintering within his grasp, Alaric coaxed, “Let’s have it then. Donnae leave me hangin’.” At the sound of his brogue deepening, a sure sign his anger was getting the best of him, Ruari’s head jerked to the side, his raised eyebrow and deepening frown showing the Vampire’s concern for his boss.
Shaking his head to calm his friend, it was Alaric who needed to be settled as Clarence continued, “The message, A thabhairt duit, Deartháir is written in the victim’s blood on the stone base of the brass statue of the Archangel Gabriel.”
Taking a deep breath then slowly letting it out, Alaric focused on Clarence’s words as he thought of the only other person in all the world who would taunt him with the words, ‘To you, Brother.’ The sound of the legendary Enfo
rcer clearing his throat pulled Alaric from his thoughts. “Since Mateo has been with you all evening and this murder happened no more than two hours ago, we now have concrete proof that you are not involved.”
“Thank you for that,” Alaric grumbled, still trying to keep both his rage and his Dragon fire under control as Sampson asked, “For those of us who don’t speak Gaelic, what the hell is going on?
“Would you like to field this one, Alaric?” Clarence asked, but it was Ruari who answered, giving a single nod to his boss.
“It’s an old threat. One that was left in the villages that were plundered by the Celtic traitors who sided with the Romans during the Cimbrian War.” He cleared his throat, obviously remembering the carnage from his youth. “The fuckin’ assholes would take the blood of the children and write, ‘To you, Brother’ to taunt the Celts still fighting to protect our lands on the Jutland Peninsula.”
“And you have an idea who this is?” Clarence’s direct question and unrelenting tone left no room to hedge. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now.
“I do. Although there are only four of us left from the MacAngoran Clan, there are many others of other Covens and Clans who were alive during that time and who fought for both sides. Give me twenty-four hours. Ruari and I will find out what bastard from our past is in the city.”
“You need not get involved.” Clarence was giving a direct order, one that crawled up Alaric’s spine and made his beast roar for battle. “Mateo will…”
“Will go about his job and I shall go about mine,” Alaric responded, letting the tiniest bit of his power flow towards the Enforcer-in-Training and therefore, his boss as well.
Deafening silence filled the room. Alaric felt the push of Clarence’s power, still incredibly formidable although his only connection was through the airwaves. When the Enforcer spoke, it was saturated with utter control and absolute power. “Do not interfere with our investigation, Alaric. Share everything you learn with Mateo as you learn it, not a second later.” His threat was clear, you hide anything from me, you die. It was as simple as that. The Directive didn’t play, they didn’t ask twice, and they did exterminate with extreme prejudice.
