Blood Legacy: Adult Urban Fantasy (The V V Inn Book 5)

by C. J. Ellisson

  My intentional double entendre draws loud laughter from my husband as he pulls me in his arms for a kiss.

  Within the hour, Jon arrives and fills us in on his long night hunting the gato and their early morning confrontation with the men from Magda’s pack.

  “She banished them, Viv,” Jon says, sorrow in his eyes. “Like they meant nothing to her. Not bothering to try to communicate with them, come to an agreement, work it out… nothing. Just kicked their disloyal asses out to fend for themselves.”

  I hold back a sniff of derision, thinking she did better than I would have. “I probably would have killed them. But hey, that’s just me.”

  “What does it mean to a werewolf to have no pack?” Rafe asks.

  Anguish colors Jon’s soulful hazel eyes. “It means to run without protection, to fear being discovered by a pack and deemed a threat—hunted down and killed for infringing where you don’t belong. It means being alone. Forever.”

  Rafe asks, “Or until the lone wolf finds another pack, right?”

  Sensing this goes deeper for Jon, and maybe touches on his own hidden doubts in leading a pack, I ask, “What would Romeo have done?”

  “Perhaps she tried talking things out with them in the past?” Rafe suggests at the same time.

  “You’re right, she could have,” Jon says, answering Rafe. “I don’t know. She might be the strongest in the pack due to her special abilities, but that doesn’t mean she’s a natural leader—or a true alpha. As far as Romeo?” Jon shrugs. “Any number of things, I think. He’d definitely have tried talking to them before things became so hate-filled and out of control. Maybe he’d have had to kick a few asses… but honestly, I can’t see him banishing anyone from the pack. Hell, we fought all the time and he never did that to me, even tried to get me to come back, through Elsa, after I stormed out all those years ago.”

  “How could Magda have been mated to Hector and not be a true female alpha?” I ask.

  “You remember me telling you about the past disagreements Romeo and I had, even when we butted heads this summer at the resort?” Rafe and I nod. “I knew I had to leave his pack, even though I knew going out alone was an even scarier idea. I was evolving into an alpha, showing the signs and strength—the first of which was how fast I could change.

  “I was born with the potential to be an alpha in my genes. No matter when I was bitten, those traits were already inside me. But for other alphas?” He shrugs. “Sometimes they evolve out of necessity. It can be a good fit or a bad fit when a wolf battles for the alpha spot in a pack. If they’re a natural leader, things run smoothly. If they aren’t… well, dissension can rise in the pack.”

  “And what’s your impression of this pack?” I ask.

  “Based on what you told me, that they change leadership often, and what I’ve seen myself, I’d say this pack has been held by very weak alphas. Ones that became what was needed through necessity, and not through actual power and the ability to lead with diplomacy.”

  A grimace forms on Rafe’s face. “The strength to take the lead doesn’t always mean the conqueror is the best candidate for a leader, just the best fighter.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “And what would that mean to this pack if Magda didn’t have this half-form to keep them all in line?” I straighten in my chair, glad we’re getting back to what I want to know. “Speaking of which, how much closer are you to discovering how she does it?”

  Jon shifts in his seat, then rises to fill a plate with whatever is left on the stove. “She revealed a few personal things last night when I was in wolf form. I wasn’t able to pursue the line of questions I had in mind, but plan to when I see her next.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question, Jon.”

  Jon becomes stiff when he sits at the table. “I’ll get what you want, not to worry.”

  I back off, pleased to see he’s showing some backbone.

  “Good,” Rafe says, looking eager to change the topic. “When you’re done eating, I’d like your help with this map idea I have.”

  Jon finishes eating and cleans all the dishes. The next few hours are spent with them marking up a city map and drawing circles all over it, fanning out from crime scenes, residences, and jobs we know Justin has taken.

  In the back of my mind, I recall a detail we may have missed. “What about the address of the wizard Justin gave us, the one close to the second invunche victim?”

  “We never did talk to him. Do you think it would help?”

  “Not sure, but I’ll find it.”

  I rifle through my clothes from yesterday and find the information. After I add it to the map, I can’t see it will make a difference. It’s only half a block from where we saw the homeless man beaten.

  “All right, that looks like a dead end.”

  Jon nods, but continues to stare down at the map. “Unless we find something else pointing toward this other wizard, I say we leave it alone. We’ve got enough data on the map already. Rafe, what do you think?”

  Pleased to hear the two of them working together, I sit back and sip my cold coffee.

  “I agree.” He stares at the map, his finger tracing the overlapping circles. “What’s in this spot, Dria? Anything look familiar to you?”

  I lean forward, looking to where he’s indicating. He’s pointing to one of the few green spaces in the city, the Plaza de Mayo.

  A chill seeps over me as I recall a fight I had there centuries ago, when the city was still forming. “You’re right.” An icy chill slinks down my spine. “All along, these distractions, these killings… they’ve been set up with one purpose in mind.”

  “And what’s that?” Rafe asks.

  “To draw me out.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Rafe

  “What the hell?” Jon says. “That can’t be right.”

  I nod, feeling lighter now that my fears have been confirmed. “It makes sense.”

  “What do you mean it makes sense? The killings started before she even got here.”

  “That’s my point, furball. No one but us knew exactly when she would return. What better way to lure her back than to start killing people and drawing attention to the supernatural in the city?”

  “Why would that work?” Jon asks. “That’s a stupid theory.”

  I move to my wife’s chair and drop an arm around her shoulders. “Because whoever did this knows my wife well. They knew she couldn’t resist doing the right thing.”

  An annoyed look replaces Dria’s shocked expression from a few moments ago. “You make me sound like some paranormal Dudley-Do-Right.”

  I squeeze one shoulder. “Come on, hon. Admit it. You hate to see the underdog lose. You always look out for the little guy.”

  She delivers a harrumph of annoyance. “I do not. What a load of horse shit.”

  Dawning lights Jon’s face. “You’re right, she does.”

  “Come now, this is ridiculous.”

  “No,” Jon says, his voice gaining enthusiasm as his understanding increases. “No, it’s not. You do fight for your beliefs. And you don’t walk away from a perceived wrong. I see it now. Rafe is right. These attacks were all aimed at drawing you back into the city, and involving yourself in local matters that shouldn’t concern you.

  “George was the lynchpin. Justin’s neighbor was just in case you started to wobble, and it was a poke at you. By that point, thanks to your bold visit to the Tribunal with Rafe, he already knew you were here. The killings would continue until you figured it out.”

  My wife pales, what little color she has fleeing in an instant.

  I pat her shoulder. “Look at the timing, Dria. Rolando has planned this every step of the way.”

  “I don’t believe it. We’ve already accredited the magical imbalance to Justin.”

  “Just this morning we discussed it might not be him. Denial doesn’t suit you, my dear.”

  She pushes back from the table and storms from the room. “I like living in denial quite nicely,
thank you very much.”

  Dria slams the bedroom door, and the two of us are left alone, staring down at the map.

  “That didn’t go over well,” Jon says. “What next?”

  “Next, we convince her she has to walk into his trap and put an end to this deadly charade once and for all.” I jab my finger on the map at the Plaza de Mayo. “He wants her here. We just have to figure out when.”

  After a half-hour cool down period, I venture into our shared bedroom to see if Dria is ready to talk. Much to my relief, she’s doing a complex yoga pose. I know she’s aware I’ve entered, no matter how deep in thought she is, she’s always aware, so I stand quietly, waiting for her to naturally finish the pose in her own time.

  She needs the exactness of the move to still her thoughts. Something she seeks out regularly to remain in control of her mind, and not to become overruled by her emotions.

  When she’s finally upright—standing perfectly still with bent arms in front of her chest, palms touching—her chin dips as her lips move, then she lifts her eyelids and her face, focusing her attention on me.

  “You won’t be going without me,” I say, laying my determination out there early so we can get past it.

  Her lips turn up at the corners. “Understood. Did you really think I’d face them without my Wolf Killer by my side?”

  My heart swells at her acceptance. She hasn’t been herself since we escaped from Coraline’s clutches. And frankly, neither have I. I would have started a knock-down-drag-out-fight if she tried to exclude me now. I’m done letting her handle it all. Last month proved, without a doubt, we can both be taken against our will—anytime. And I intend to shore up our defenses any way I can.

  “Do you know when?” I ask. “That’s what you were pondering in the back of your mind, through your moves, right?”

  She gives me a sly smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Maybe. Can’t say for sure what’s working in my subconscious.” She softens, the lines of her face smoothing, the most relaxed I’ve seen her in ages. “That’s the point of meditation. To ease your mind, to accept what is. To see, with clarity, the best life-route to bring happiness to you soul.” She becomes more solemn, walking toward me. “And to understand when you might have to darken your soul for a while with a choice you have to make. To know your soul will be happy again, soon, as long as you are careful not to let too much darkness taint you.”

  I open my arms, inviting her into my heart with the motion, reassuring her she is not alone, she will always have me by her side. I run my hands down her spine, letting her feel my touch.

  She presses her lips to my shirt in a kiss. “He’ll be there every night, waiting,” she says, referring to Rolando at the Plaza de Mayo.

  “The nights are long this time of year.”

  “And he won’t want to waste all of it on waiting for me to figure out what he’s doing. He’ll limit his time in the plaza.”

  “To when?”

  “Well past sunset, but before midnight.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  She shrugs. “I can’t. But it’s what I would do. Especially if I had to plan more magical mischief that night.”

  “You’re right, the murders all happened after sunset, but well before midnight.”

  “He’ll then wait for me where I fought rogues who’d tried to destroy the Seat of Darkness. It was a bloody day in the city’s pre-history. Not one I’ll ever forget.”

  “And why would Rolando know this day would stick out for you? Was it one of your worst battles?”

  “No, not by a long shot. Thankfully though, when I look back, the details seem more like I’m watching an historical reenactment show on the History Channel, not something I really did. But to answer your question—he would refer to that night because he fought by my side.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Not really. We had both been enforcers for the Tribunal at one time in our long undead lives. I’d sparred with him before, knew he could fight.”

  “Was it significant in any other way for him?”

  She cocks her head to the side, a thoughtful gleam entering her gaze. “Yes. I hadn’t thought of it until you mentioned it. He was offered a position in the inner circle after that.”

  “Who initiated the discussion for his nomination?”

  A bright smile shines across her gorgeous face, lighting her green eyes with fire and determination. “Persephone.”

  We fill the hours of the early evening with more food and even more planning. We’re sure Rolando wasn’t acting alone all this time, and the group consensus is Persephone has been working with him. What would the ancient gain by involving herself in this scheme? Dria is unsure who originally turned Rolando and made him a vampire, and I’m inclined to think perhaps he has a deeper connection to the distant ancient than we were previously aware of.

  It’s almost eight when we decide to leave for the Plaza de Mayo. Jon paces with nervous energy. “I’m still not so sure we should be going with just the three of us. I could call Magda, see if she’s willing to join us.”

  My wife smiles, the sentiment softening her lines of worry. “I appreciate the thought, Jon. But there’s no way in hell I’m bringing anyone else into this mess. Truth be told, I’d rather go alone.”

  “Not going to happen,” I say. Jon’s forceful “hell no” sounding at the same time.

  “I know, I know. We talked about it. You guys are both coming.” She shoots us an annoyed glance. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “What are you expecting will happen?”

  “Could go several ways. Rolando wants to finish what he started last month, and plans to question me further. And possibly kill me when I can’t reveal any information about the Atlantians or more manipulators.

  “Or he plans to kill me outright. Although, I’m less inclined to believe that one. He’s proven he could’ve come after me anytime this week if that’s what he wanted.”

  I break in with my thoughts. “I don’t think he’s after you for information. If that was the case, he’d have been in that room while they tortured you.”

  “What else could he want?”

  “To meet you on neutral ground?” I suggest. “When you’re not tracking him with the intent to kill him on sight.”

  “That was never my plan, and you know it. I’d always intended to question him before I killed him. What good would it do to end him without knowing if there were others plotting to come after me, too?”

  Jon’s pacing stops. Hands on his hips, he glances back and forth between us. “And what about weapons? Are we taking any? Should I go as a wolf or man?”

  “There’s a martial arts equipment shop over in Monserrat,” I say. “I wouldn’t mind bringing a bo staff and throwing knives.”

  Dria shakes her head. “Whatever you bring could be used against you by a powerful vampire. I wouldn’t risk it.”

  “Nothing?” Jon asks. He sees her shake her head again. “Dammit. I feel naked enough as it is. This sucks.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and stares down at the map.

  “Am I walking in as bait, with you two watching from the sidelines?”

  Jon’s head whips up. “Uh—another resounding hell no. We go in together, a united front.”

  My wife sighs. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  By eight-thirty we’re parking a couple of blocks away and walking into the well-lit Plaza de Mayo, scanning every face we pass for signs of Rolando or Persephone. I flank my wife’s right side and Jon is on her left. The plaza isn’t very busy this time of year, with the trees bare and the grasses looking lifeless and flat. Palm trees tower above us, bracketing the brick sidewalks, the fronds rustling in the chilly winter breeze.

  Dead ahead lies the pristine Mayo Pyramid, a stone monument made in 1810, and the Casa Rosada, or Pink House, sits behind it. A lone figure leans against the black fencing around the monument’s base, staring toward us. Slicked back dark hair, tall, slender build, impec
cably dressed as always.

  That’s him, my wife says through our telepathic bond. Stay sharp and watch for Persephone.

  We continue our approach, angling toward Rolando’s position. He straightens as we get closer, stepping away from the fence, hands spread wide. “So good of you to finally join me, Alexandria. I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out.”

  “Was it worth it? To kill all those people?”

  “We had to be sure you’d come back to the city.”

  “You could have called me.”

  He smiles, a deadly expression that doesn’t reach his eyes, which remain flat and emotionless. “And would you have listened? Would you have come to meet me?”

  “Considering you helped torture me, probably not.”

  He nods once, his suspicions confirmed. “Exactly as I thought. You never would have believed I was there to keep you safe. To make sure they didn’t go too far and kill you.”

  My wife tilts her head to the side, narrowing her gaze on the suave vampire. “And I don’t believe you now. Why would you have tried to help me?”

  He motions a hand near his feet, and out of nowhere, two black puppies appear. Rolling and tumbling on the ground in play.

  Dria freezes, mentally screaming through our bond, Protect your mind! Lock it down tight! And with that, I sense an emptiness that wasn’t there a moment ago. My wife cutting off all mental contact with me.

  “Because, my dear,” Rolando says, his voice dangerous and low. “I’m exactly like you.”

  Shock slams into me as understanding hits me in the face. The puppies aren’t real. He’s casting an illusion, a physical illusion so strong, even Dria can see it. And to prove my point, the puppies disappear.

  The older vampire smiles again, this time with a hint of superiority in it. “That’s right. I can see you’ve all worked it out. I’m a manipulator, just like your lovely redhead.”

  Without warning, a shimmer of movement, like heat dancing in the air over a summer street, appears at his side. Slowly it takes on corporeal form, revealing the tall, lithe body of Persephone.