Possessed by a Warrior

by Sharon Ashwood

  “Now down to business,” he said.

  Her mind groped for what business that might be. She’d been standing by the garage, and then she was here, in this tiny dark room. She didn’t remember anything in between. Zero. Nada. They’d taken her to their lair, and she had no idea where that was.

  Disorientation swam through her. “Did you mess with my mind?”

  He gave a sardonic smile. “I thought you might prefer hypnosis to being knocked over the head. It worked just as well on the security Sam had posted on the north gate. Good men. No match for me.”

  Chloe wasn’t prepared to accept any of this. “There had to be hundreds of people at Oakwood. You can’t just kidnap a person from the middle of a crowd! Somebody would have noticed.”

  He tsk-tsked. “People see what they want to see. Typically, they ignore anything that will cause inconvenience. Don’t think the cavalry is going to come charging in to save you.”

  “Sam will.”

  “Will he?” Carter snorted. “True enough—I can smell Sam’s presence on you. You’ve been his dinner before this.”

  “So?”

  Carter’s eyes widened, and she realized she’d made a mistake. She should have been doubtful or horrified, not accepting. She wasn’t supposed to know what Sam was.

  “Interesting.” The tone of his voice made the flunkies stir. They’d been so quiet she’d almost forgotten them. “Sam, Sam. The boy never listens.”

  “What do you care?” She was growing colder, but she couldn’t tell if it was the room or just the frozen depths of her fear. Her lips felt numb, too clumsy to work properly.

  He fell back a step, face clenched in a look of pure frustration. “You should ask rather why you should care. As long as I direct his actions, the world is safe from him. You are safe.”

  “Who are you?” she asked, fighting to keep a quaver from her voice.

  He ripped off the sunglasses, revealing furious, ice-blue eyes. “I made him. I found him all but dead, a great soldier shackled by the obligations of his species. He put everything between his potential and the great things he could achieve. A woman. His mewling brats. The poxy rabble he called his men. In the end, those obligations dragged him into the mud, his guts on the ground. I freed him of that. I made him War.”

  He grabbed a fistful of her hair, dragging her head back so that she was forced to look up at him. Chloe cried out, pain and fright struggling for supremacy.

  “He’s mine. He belongs to me. I hold his leash.”

  That made her blink. “His leash?”

  “Vampires aren’t house pets, my dear. They are machines of destruction, dedicated to the great work of the Company. But without a dominant influence, they are simply monsters. I do what I can to teach my boys the face of their evil, but learning can be slow. I never thought Sam would go back for seconds. Not after the first time.”

  “The first time?”

  “His wife went mad.” Carter released her, stomping in an agitated circle.

  Chloe’s head snapped forward, her scalp throbbing where he’d grabbed her hair. His wife went mad. She remembered. Amy, the wife of Ralston Samuel Hill. Sam’s wife. What happened to the poor woman? “She eventually remarried.”

  “I took her memories.”

  Chloe shuddered, her own mind reeling. A wad of panic was trying to work its way up from her stomach. Already, her heart was starting to pound too fast.

  Carter was pacing, his flunkies watching him. One had an automatic rifle cradled in his arms. Suddenly Carter wheeled, glaring at her. “You don’t understand. What makes us powerful makes us beasts. It is the influence of demons. Only evil can come of this infection. Our souls are long destroyed.”

  “But Sam is a good man!”

  “None of us is good.” His face was a horrible mask of agony, as if he saw something that cracked his reason into splinters. “When the bloodlust was on me, I slaughtered my own wife and brats.”

  Chloe cringed, as much from the pain and rage in his voice as from what he said. She heard Pietro’s brothers shift uneasily.

  Carter leaned down, bringing his face far too close to hers. “I can’t let Sam slide down that unholy path. I must bring him to heel. And you, you are too much temptation. He forgets his duty to me.”

  She could do nothing but stare back into his glassy eyes. She wasn’t even sure he was seeing her, but might have been gazing on some spectacle from the sewers of his own brain.

  The flunky with the gun pushed forward, breaking his trance. “Then take your revenge on him, or on her, I don’t care. But do it later. Right now, we have a small opportunity to retrieve the diamonds.”

  Carter didn’t take his eyes from her, but his expression focused to something more sane. “Where is the dress?”

  Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she tried to still the tiny earthquakes of fear shaking her insides to pieces. “I’m not going to tell you. Once you have the dress, I’m as good as dead.”

  She watched him digest this. As long as she kept this maniac talking, that gave Sam more time to find her. He would find her. That’s what Sam did.

  But she miscalculated. He was done with conversation.

  Carter’s blow knocked her sprawling from the chair. One of the flunkies had to jump aside to avoid her body as it hit the floor.

  * * *

  Sam looked at his watch.

  The natives were getting restless. He could hear their muttering all the way down at the gate. According to Chloe’s timetable, the ceremony was about to start. All the guests seem to have arrived, because no cars had come by for a good quarter hour.

  He looked up at the shattered tree, wondering what Jack would have thought of turning his place over for a wedding like this. He probably would have liked it. Jack had always been up for a party.

  Sam, however, was not enjoying himself. He was worried about Chloe. She’d greeted him warmly enough just now, but the look in her eyes spoke of unfinished business, of serious conversations yet to be had. Maybe she still thought he was going to erase her mind and abandon her, no matter what he had told her with his body.

  Sam heaved an inward sigh. Women were so bad at interpreting wordless devotion. With them it was always talk, talk, talk. In his youth, they had begged for letters and poems. Sam had received a good education, but no schoolmaster had prepared him for writing love poetry. By the nine hells, he was thankful modern women were over that fashion.

  He turned to the security guard standing a dozen feet away. “I’m going up to the house.”

  “See if they can send down some sandwiches and water,” the guard suggested. “This is going to be a long day.”

  Sam agreed and started up the road. He entered the house as soon as he could to get out of the penetrating sun. Most of the crowd had shifted to the lawn where the ceremony was to take place, but Iris Fallon was still at the house, storming from room to room. She wore a peach chiffon pantsuit that billowed as she moved. It made him think of old paintings of the Furies, drapery aflutter as they chased their victims down and ripped off their heads.

  Iris slid to a halt in front of Sam, her heels scraping on Jack’s hardwood floor. “Where is that chit of a planner? Where is she?”

  Chit? “I don’t know, ma’am,” Sam replied, centuries of good manners forcing him to be polite. “I last saw Chloe about an hour ago.” Call her a chit again and I’ll forget that I was raised to be a gentleman.

  “I need her here now!” she seethed. “I’ve had the security men look everywhere for her. This is insupportable. I’m paying her to be on the spot!”

  “I’ll find her,” Sam said soothingly. He was looking for Chloe anyway.

  “And bring that unicorn from the stables.”

  Sam didn’t reply to that one. Despite his calm tone, doubt nagged at him. He kne
w how important this event was to Chloe. If she wasn’t here, where was she?

  Taking a guess, Sam headed for the kitchen. Kenyon was there, filling trays with tiny bites of this and that. “Have you seen Chloe?”

  The werewolf looked up. He was dusty with flour but looked completely happy. “She was here a while ago.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “She should be with the wedding party.”

  Sam felt his doubts grow sharp claws. “She’s not there. It sounds like they’ve looked everywhere.”

  A strained look came over Kenyon’s face.

  “What?”

  “Chloe’s under a lot of pressure, what with the thieves and the wedding and...whatever.”

  Sam grabbed the front of the werewolf’s whites. “What are you saying?”

  Kenyon’s eyes held pools of sadness. “I’m sorry, I’ve been where you are.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sam forced himself to let go of his friend.

  “I just can’t help remembering what happened when Lexie and I got close.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He almost saw Kenyon clam up, as if a steel wall had slammed across his face.

  “What do you mean?” Sam growled.

  “Well,” he said carefully. “When things didn’t work out, Lexie took off. Dropped off the face of the earth for months and months. You know those two women are like sisters, right?”

  Sam just stood there, feeling whatever semblance of life he had draining away.

  Kenyon looked around the room as if checking for eavesdroppers, and then leaned close. “Is there any chance that Lexie might have talked Chloe into running away?”

  Chapter 28

  Pain shot through Chloe’s shoulder as she landed, followed moments later by a burning in her jaw. Tears leaked from her eyes as she clutched the floor, afraid to get up in case he knocked her down again.

  Her mind was a turmoil of fear, but anger had taken control. They could take her life, but she could cling to her will—at least for a little bit longer. Yes, everyone broke eventually, but Jack Anderson’s niece was going to make them work for it.

  Rough hands heaved her up and dropped her back into the chair. It was one of Pietro’s brothers. “Where is it?” the man asked in heavily accented English.

  Chloe tried to open her mouth, but her jaw hurt too much. She started to cry from pain and exhaustion. Mortified, she pressed her bound hands to her face.

  “This is useless,” Carter grumbled.

  The other Knight spoke up. “Can’t you pull it out of her mind?”

  “I can erase something. Finding a fact is different.”

  “Is it impossible?”

  “It takes time. Once something passes from short-to long-term memory, it becomes hard to find.”

  The one with the gun broke in. “Don’t worry about being neat. Do it, then kill her.”

  “No!” Chloe managed to get the word out. The least you can do is let me die with my mind in one piece!

  Someone pounded on the door. The men fell silent.

  “It’s security! Anyone in there? We’re looking for Chloe Anderson.”

  Chloe took a breath to cry out. The next instant, one of the Knights clamped a hand over her mouth. He bent, putting his mouth to her ear. “Wrong move.”

  The security guard turned the door handle and rattled it, but it was locked.

  “You got a key?” someone asked.

  “Not to this room,” another voice answered.

  The pressure of the Knight’s hand pained Chloe’s bruised jaw. She whimpered, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. With a shiver, she felt the cold iron of a gun under her right ear. The others stood silent, barely breathing, until she heard the footsteps of the security guards move away.

  The Knight with the gun growled. “Try and call out again and you can watch your brains redecorate the wall.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, giving herself the blessed relief of not seeing those three horrible faces. She was on the edge of throwing up. But a thought niggled—security men had been just outside that door. Where was she?

  With her eyes closed, she could hear how badly her breathing rasped with tension. For a moment that filled her world, but another sound began to press in on her. Voices. Many, many voices.

  Chloe opened her eyes and studied the wall in front of her with renewed interest. It was old, unfinished concrete, but there was shelving along one side. She let distant memory fill in the rest of the scene. Once, that shelving had been full of wine crates. We’re beneath Oakwood!

  That meant the voices she heard were upstairs, probably in one of the reception rooms. Now things were beginning to make sense. There was an underground utility passage from the basement to the workshop where they had grabbed her—it would have been easy to bring her here unseen.

  Relief, almost a fierce joy, revived her dwindling will.

  She worked her jaw to see if it would move. It was still horribly stiff, aching worse than any root canal she could remember.

  The man with the gun dug the barrel into her skull. “Where is the dress?”

  “It’s in the study,” she mumbled.

  Carter’s head snapped in her direction. “The study?”

  “In a safe. Behind the painting of a soldier.”

  There was indeed a hidden compartment in the study. The dress, however, was in the safe in Jack’s bedroom. But she was in the business of buying time, not providing accuracy.

  “What’s the combination?” Carter demanded.

  “It’s written down. I don’t remember.” Where is Sam? It was past time he put his superhero tights on and showed up.

  “I can get anything open,” said the smaller Knight. “The problem is getting through the house unseen.”

  Carter looked thoughtful. “This is a big wedding. There are so many strangers and workmen in the house, no one will notice a few more. Not even men carrying tools.”

  The men looked at each other. The Knight with the gun spoke. “One cracksman, two lookouts minimum in a busy location. Someone has to watch the prisoner. We’re a man short.”

  She watched Carter’s face and could see him make the decision. “You’ll have to make do with one lookout. Tie her to the chair and go. If she’s wasting our time, I’ll shoot her.”

  * * *

  Sam was stunned. Would Chloe leave?

  He stormed out of the kitchen, ignoring the sunlight that slammed against his skin like the blast from an oven. Iris Fallon swooped down on him.

  “Mr. Ralston, where is Chloe?”

  He stopped short, struggling to put his fangs away. The woman was in his way. He barely stopped himself from sweeping her aside. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, who is going to fix this?”

  “Fix what?

  “The madrigal singers are wearing green. I distinctly said the color theme of the wedding was mauve and gold.”

  He felt his instinctive manners unraveling at a dangerous rate. “Are they any good?”

  “Of course they are. I chose them.”

  He clenched his jaw a long moment before he spoke. “Then no doubt people are listening too hard to notice the outfits.”

  She inhaled in short, jerky gasps. Sam could tell she was about to start crying, or perhaps shrieking with rage. In time-honored male fashion, he looked around for another woman to handle it.

  Elaine was standing in the hall, touchingly beautiful in her wedding gown. She looked lost. “Chloe was supposed to tell me when to start the procession. They’ve seated Grandma, Leo’s there at the altar, but—” She waved her hands helplessly.

  Sam swallowed. He knew the look. He’d seen it on soldiers who needed a leader. They knew what to do, but they needed somebody to point the
m at the target. “Now. Do it now. You’re the bride. Everyone will follow your lead.”

  “But I can’t get on that horse without help! Not in this skirt.”

  Sam thought of Chloe, and how badly she’d wanted this wedding to work. Fixing this was the least he could do.

  “Come with me,” he said to Elaine, giving her his arm.

  They walked onto the lawn. Elaine’s father was holding the head of the white horse. The stuffed unicorn horn Mrs. Fallon had demanded was thankfully absent. Against all odds, good taste had prevailed.

  “Hang on,” Sam said to the bride, and lifted her onto the saddle.

  Elaine settled easily, obviously comfortable with horses, and lowered her veil. “Thank you, Mr. Ralston.”

  Iris appeared at Sam’s elbow and handed up the bouquet. She stared at her daughter a long time, her expression growing soft.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said. “Never forget that.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Elaine said in a quavering voice, and her father led her away. The horse began the long procession that would lead it to the aisle. The whole path was strewn with flowers, the way marked by tall, ribboned poles crowned with tumbling sprays of roses.

  Iris stood for a moment, her lower lip trembling. Then she swallowed. “That cake is purple. And it has toys on it.”

  “Forget the cake,” Sam said. “You’re going to miss the wedding. Go watch your beautiful daughter get married.”

  Iris gave him a long look. “You’re right.”

  And she went to watch the ceremony she had so meticulously planned.

  * * *

  A few minutes later, the wedding was under way. Now that it was in motion, the event would unfold as it should. Chloe had organized everything down to the last ice cube.

  Sam slipped from the back of the crowd, ready to resume his search of the grounds. He caught the flash of a camera. Lexie Haven was darting around the sidelines, catching the candid moments between the bride and groom. If she had planned to leave with Chloe, it hadn’t happened yet.