Those Whose Hearts (Vampire Assassin League Book 34)

by Jackie Ivie

  Hmm.

  It occurred to him how easily a crucifix would fit beneath a jacket. Bloomers could easily conceal canisters of Holy Water. The shoes could accommodate wooden stakes with ease. Reynaldo silently counseled himself. He mustn’t overlook anything here. Hunters were a cunning bunch. He hadn’t survived many a brush-in with them by accident.

  Another odd thud caught his ear, stronger than the first two. Louder, too. It was getting irritating. He ignored it to sniff the air. Hunters gave off a smell akin to burning garbage or something equally noxious. None of that was in evidence, although someone had bathed in a surfeit of cologne. Reynaldo’s sword tip lowered. Another dull throb sounded. This one came with a distinct trembling motion. And it emanated from within his chest. Directly where his heart used to—

  No.

  Oh no.

  Porca vacca!

  It couldn’t be.

  Reynaldo’s knees wavered, threatening to drop him. His blood went icy. A distinct tremor hit his fingers next, severe enough he nearly lost hold of his weapon. He gripped the sword to his torso, sagged back against the door, and caught a quick breath.

  A real one.

  His heart gave another beat, as if to convince him. This was too immense, not simply because it was happening...but the ‘who’ of it was a complete bombshell. Almost ludicrous. Despite appearances and innuendo, Reynaldo was a ladies’ man. He’d never enjoined an interlude of a sexual nature with a male. Gaining one for his mate was beyond surprising. He was dumbfounded. Flabbergasted. Stunned.

  Oh. This was bad. Really bad.

  But incredibly good, too.

  No. What was he thinking?

  This was bad.

  And yet...still. It was exciting. Wildly so.

  His body kept regenerating while the inner battle raged. His mate was a male?

  Covolo.

  No way.

  No. Fucking. Way.

  As if for confirmation, his groin stirred. He glanced down in disbelief before darting his gaze forward again...as if caught in something illicit. He couldn’t prevent the grin, however. Nor the rush of something massive that smacked into his nose.

  Oh!

  By all he’d ever revered, it was true! Everything Akron had told him!

  True....

  And staggering.

  The first youth entered the balcony. He rushed to the rail where Reynaldo had stood. Reynaldo considered him. Wondered if this was the one. The fellow had spindly legs. That was especially noticeable in his bright orange tights and beneath large padded buttocks. He wasn’t very tall, either. Reynaldo was almost relieved when nothing untoward occurred throughout his frame as he regarded the fellow.

  The youth turned back, completely missing Reynaldo’s presence. He gestured with a swift arm to his companions.

  “Come on! Look! I told you we’d be able to see.”

  Reynaldo hadn’t spent time wondering what might bring them up here. He’d gone directly to the assumption that they’d come for him. Realization was somehow deflating. They’d climbed three flights of stairs for the view. Another gent reached the rail and stood beside the first. He was a bit taller. More muscled. Had a decent amount of shape to his legs. His jacket hugged a form that would be quite manly once he gained some years to him. The third fellow arrived. Joined his companions. He appeared the most fit of all. Oldest, too. Reynaldo sheathed his sword as he considered the trio with their backs to him.

  Any of them would do, but the third gent was definitely the most interesting.

  Merda.

  This was such shit. It couldn’t get more ridiculous. It was akin to evaluating studs at a horse auction. The first one spoke again, pointing down at the crowd. His words mystified at first. And then they altered just about everything.

  “Look at the rack on that one. She’s about to pop out of her dress. Didn’t I tell you?”

  Reynaldo’s eyes widened. His belly tightened. That’s why they’d come up here? To view breasts? And why was that surprising? It was a prime spot. He’d already noted that. But their interest sent a major snag into his world. The future just got more difficult to navigate. He’d never considered having a mate in the first place. The idea it was the wrong gender was a distinct shock. Knowing they might not be interested was worse. Getting them into his bed could be a real challenge. And sticky.

  Literally.

  Reynaldo almost snickered at the thought. His heart gave another beat. He inhaled another breath. Exhaled it. His heartbeat came again. Strong. Steady. He took another breath. Waited a span before exhaling it. This was odd. There was nothing else happening. And that wasn’t possible. Unless, he’d been mistaken...and none of them were his mate?

  And if not one of them...then who?

  He might not be reacting physically, but something odd was taking place. What must be disappointment welled up from somewhere and grew to a consuming level. It shrouded him with a vast cavern of darkness. He’d received the greatest gift only to have it snatched away moments later. The disappointment expanded to become anger, and then it turned to rage. All, without his input or control. If he’d had any experience with this level of emotion, it was long forgotten.

  Why...the rage even came with color.

  Dark, bloody red.

  That shade bled through his vision, pumped in rhythm with his heartbeat. He knew the emotion was completely unreasonable, but that didn’t stop it. Nor did the fact it was directed at the trio that stood with their backs to him like sacrificial lambs. His canines vibrated. Elongated. Went to razor sharpness. He was snarling as the third gent turned for some reason. Saw him.

  And shrieked.

  If the stupid fellow hadn’t backed into the railing, he wouldn’t have plunged over it. And if Reynaldo were any slower, he wouldn’t have been able to snag the man’s padded rear and yank him back. If it hadn’t been the heaviest one of the three, the landing might have gone unnoticed. And if a decent amount of time and care had been spent on their restoration, the entire balcony wouldn’t have given a shudder just before something cracked in the supports beneath it.

  Damn everything.

  If he wasn’t caught up in a whorl of misguided emotion, he’d have been reacting. Leaping free of the collapse. He wouldn’t have tumbled three stories along with a lot of debris. He landed with a jarring thump amidst a lot of screaming and a considerable amount of bodies.

  And then a large matron rushed over to him and grasped him to her more-than-ample breasts. If he hadn’t been regenerating, he wouldn’t have been gasping for air through her crushing embrace.

  But it was her crucifix that did the most damage.

  The woman had a large jeweled cross hanging from her necklace. It slapped onto Reynaldo’s chest. If he’d had sense to wear something heavier than thin black muslin, it wouldn’t have burned him with such debilitating effect.

  And maybe.

  Just maybe...

  He’d have done more than writhe in agony as sirens began wailing.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Greetings! You’ve reached VAL, where death—”

  “Porca puttana!”

  Reynaldo interrupted Nigel’s Beethan’s cheerful voice with an oath. He flung his paintbrush into the turpentine with such force, droplets of paint-infused liquid landed on the Aubusson carpet beneath him. He didn’t bother checking for potential damage. He didn’t care.

  “Uh...okay. Hi there. Apologies, but I don’t speak German. Or whatever,” Nigel replied.

  “It’s Italian.”

  “Oh. Okay. I’m gonna guess it’s not a nice word, which is just...wild. While I’m at it, I’ll take another stab at conjecture. Is this...um...Count Reynaldo Moroseni, by any chance?”

  “Who else could it be?”

  “I have several associates that come to mind. Would you like a listing?”

  “No. I would like you to answer your line the first time!”

  “This is classic. Aren’t you the guy who doesn’t even open a missive unless he
feels like it?”

  “That is beside the point. I have called. And you failed to return my messages!”

  There was a brief pause. “Messages?” Nigel asked with a choked tone.

  “I have called four times! Four! And left messages with the answering service!”

  “Holy shit!”

  The line went dead. Reynaldo stared at the cell phone incomprehensively for a long moment.

  What was this?

  The bastardo hung up on him?

  Realization hit. He flung the phone at a far wall; so far away he could barely see the impact. He could hear the satisfying sound, however. It did little to curb the rage. His heart rate kicked up, pumping a dark violet color through his vision with every beat. He grabbed the paintbrush, stabbed it into one of the colors on his palette, and flung it onto the canvas he was wrecking, pushing with such force the brush went right through. And that wasn’t the worst of it.

  He was shaking.

  He almost had the tremor conquered when a loud operatic aria filled the chamber with sound. Reynaldo instantly released the brush, leaving it dangling in place to flip a paint-flecked lace cuff off his hand. He shoved beneath a velvet lapel of his satin jacket, grabbed a pack of cell phones. It took too long to access. Frustration sent a snarl across his features while his canines vibrated ominously. Finally, he had it free. He yanked a phone from the pack, clicked connect, and started speaking before the line opened.

  “This had best be Nigel!”

  “Whoa. Calm down, buddy.”

  “You coglione! If you were anywhere near me right now—!”

  “Mellow out, man. I’ll get to you. Akron? You on the line?”

  “Affirmative.”

  The depth and breadth of the deep voice that answered had an immediate effect. Reynaldo straightened. Blinked. Physically controlled any shudder. A sense of relief washed through him with a palpable cooling sensation, overriding the urgency of moments before. His newly regenerated heartbeat stuttered and slowed. The violet haze even started receding. And all of it felt extremely odd.

  “I know you wanted me to run the desk today, Sir, but this is heavy. I might need some advice.”

  “And it involves Count Moroseni? Interesting.”

  “I’m about to obliterate Castle Poenari. 4-D Team Blue is on approach. We have about eight minutes unless you disagree.”

  Nigel had deployed a 4-D team and was targeting the VAL headquarters? Reynaldo knew the other letters stood for destroy, disinfect, and disappear. This was news and almost interesting enough to take Reynaldo’s mind off his problem.

  Almost.

  “Associates are all evacuated—uh. Except Ethelstone and Steph. They’re awaiting me at the hangar. And we could really use his twin, Athlerod, but hey. He’s out of range.”

  “You know where he is?”

  “Of course. He’s my responsibility, remember?”

  “Go on,” Akron answered.

  “It started with Moroseni. What he said without meaning to. By the way, I’m gonna guess he found his mate and then lost her, and I’ll get to that, Reynaldo. Once I’m airborne.”

  Reynaldo pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it. It wasn’t just due to Nigel’s correct interpretation of his call, but the kid’s authoritative tone was also a surprise, especially considering the barely mature voice he possessed.

  “The Hunter organization has gained a lot of brain power, Sir...and I mean a lot. Reynaldo told me he’s left messages with an answering service we don’t have.”

  “We've been hacked?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You certain it’s them?”

  “I checked the Abyss Link. Not only have I been locked out, but my actions invited in a worm. It’s attempting a trace now. I can barely spot it and couldn’t stop it. I’m telling you, somebody is very smart all-of-a-sudden. I don’t know who. Or how. But I’m impressed. I believe they’ve been triangulating our position with each of Moroseni’s prior calls. Judging by the fact they let his last call through, they’re closing in, and that should explain my subsequent actions.”

  “Impressive,” Akron said.

  “You agree then?”

  “Completely,” Akron replied.

  “There! I’m done. Systems wiped clean. And...I’m out! Will call you both back.”

  The connection ended. Reynaldo dropped the phone. Lifted the pack and watched it until one of them sang again. He must have lost the ability to tell time because it felt like it took forever. He instantly went upright again. Slid the phone out. Pressed the connect button. Held the cell to his ear. Akron was speaking so Reynaldo had to wait some more.

  “...ascertain intelligence level.”

  “I intend to, just as soon as—oh. Reynaldo? You connected?” Nigel asked.

  “Si!” Reynaldo expostulated.

  “Sorry about the delay with your issue, man. It probably felt like eternity. Let me make it up to you. I’ve got search bars open. Shoot.”

  “Shoot?”

  “Yeah. Like...start firing details. You want to find your mate, don’t you? I mean, we’ve done this before. It’s not that hard. I just need a description. Last known location. Stuff like that.”

  “How much time do I have?”

  “That does not sound fortuitous,” Akron inserted.

  “I could probably handle this, Sir. You can go back to...whatever it is you’re doing.”

  “I thought you knew me better, Nigel.”

  “Sir?”

  “I have lived an eternity of sameness, Nigel. On occasion, curiosity takes the edge from that. And I have to admit...I am very curious at the moment.”

  “Okay. Well then, in answer to your question, Reynaldo, we’re on a satellite link. And we’re flying...which should make us impossible to track. Then again, I had the same impression about our former headquarters transmission capabilities, and look where that got us.”

  “Pardon?” Reynaldo asked.

  “Oh. Sorry. I’m starting to wander around with facts like Akron does. You want bottom line? You got two minutes. I’m not risking more.”

  “Two minutes!”

  “I can call you back if needed.”

  “Oh. All right then. What do you want again?”

  “Let’s start with description. Approximate height. Weight. Coloring. Any foreign accent? You know, stuff like that.”

  “Unknown,” Reynaldo replied.

  “Unknown? Okay. We’ve had to track down mates with less. How about last known location? And maybe a time?”

  “Chateau Boreonne. Last evening.”

  “You’re in France, then?”

  “Si.”

  “Wow. Headlines already. A masquerade ball was held at the chateau last night. Huge turn-out. Lots of press. But the real news is the balcony collapse. Eight dead. Dozens injured. They’re asking for anyone with information on attendees to come forward. Oh. Looks like they even lost an ambulance. And the crew. As well as the injured man they were transporting.”

  “Do tell,” Reynaldo said with a flat tone.

  “That couldn’t have been you. The guy was described as wearing all black, and everyone knows you favor loud vivid—wait. Here’s the long blond hair. So. It was you in the ambulance. That was a risky move, don’t you think?”

  “I was not thinking at the time, but it is unimportant. They will never find the vehicle, while the crew? It was dark. I was provoked beyond reason. One of them even tried to stick needles in me! Let me just say...should they be located...they will not remember much.”

  “Fair enough. I guess. But crap. This is going to be tough. Do you know how many people were there?”

  “No.”

  “According to the article there were hundreds of invitations. Some of those folks probably brought a ‘plus one’. And that doesn’t include all the others. You know; the gate crashers. Security. Wait staff. Caterers. Musicians. Anything jump out at you?”

  “There was a cellist.”

  “Okay. This j
ust got a lot easier.”

  “I am not saying it is her.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes. I mean, no. I mean yes, I am certain I cannot say.”

  “Is that because she was masked?”

  The cellist was not masked.”

  “So, it was her?”

  “I told you I cannot say.”

  “Are we talking in circles, or does it just sound that way?”

  “Circles,” Akron responded.

  “Okay. I’ll clarify. Reynaldo? I’m asking if the reason you cannot describe a mate is because she was masked.”

  “Oh. No.”

  “Then why? You didn’t have enough time before the balcony collapsed onto you? And then you had to pretend to be humanly hurt so as to not arouse suspicion? And then what? She was gone when you returned?”

  “No.”

  “What part is wrong?”

  “It was a fat woman wearing a crucifix.”

  “That is not a nice way to describe your mate.”

  Akron sounded like he snorted. Reynaldo slid off the stool, flung his free hand up. Started pacing as he spoke. “I am not describing my mate! I am describing the woman who assaulted me once I fell with the balcony.”

  “Okay. So your mate is not a fat woman wearing a cross. Got it.”

  “Exactly. No. I mean, wait. It could be.”

  “What could be?”

  “My mate.”

  “You sure you have one? I mean—?”

  “Stronzo! I am breathing! My heart is beating. And I’m getting angered again.”

  “I’m checking translation...and you just called me asshole. How nice. Maybe you could help by giving me something to go on?”

  Reynaldo’s hand tightened on the phone. He spoke between set teeth. “It started with the gent in the bloomers.”

  “Gent? Your mate is a male? Wow. This is just...uh. Wow.”

  “No. I mean. I do not know. It could be.”

  “You can’t tell? Must be a real looker.”

  Nigel may have been speaking beneath his breath but it was useless. The cell phone vibrated with what could be Akron’s chuckling. Reynaldo swiveled at the far wall, grinding bits of the cell phone he’d earlier flung beneath his shoes.