by Tina Folsom
Sounded like a reprimand in Amaury’s ears. Zane seemed to shrug it off as if he was made of Teflon. “It’ll be like the good old days.”
“I don’t recall the good old days being all that good,” came Quinn’s voice from inside the plane. A second later his strawberry-blonde head popped out. He had a light complexion, light hazel-colored eyes, and a boyish smile. His age was frozen forever at south of twenty. He took it as liberty to behave his apparent age, even though he was well over two hundred years old.
“Maybe not for you,” Zane retorted, “but for Amaury and me, things were pretty entertaining.”
Not quite sure which one of their many battles his old friend referred to, Amaury only nodded. Not that he’d call it entertaining. Gruesome was probably a better word. Most fights Zane was involved in turned into a mess of blood and gore.
Quinn finally stepped out of the plane, a garment bag slung over his shoulder. “I’m ready.”
“About time.” Gabriel looked at his watch and furrowed his brows.
As soon as they were piled into the limousine, Carl turned the car back toward San Francisco. Amaury made sure he wasn’t facing Yvette who’d already stared daggers at him earlier. With Quinn sitting between him and her while facing Gabriel and Zane, Amaury was saved from both physical and eye contact.
For a moment there was silence until Gabriel finally spoke. “Samson must be ecstatic.”
“Never thought I’d see him like that,” Amaury confirmed.
“It doesn’t happen to many of us, but when it does, it’s life changing.” There was a sad look in Gabriel’s eyes. He’d not yet found his mate, and Amaury knew instantly that the loneliness was getting to him. It was stronger now than when he’d last seen him face to face a few years earlier.
While they would often talk through video conferencing, Amaury hadn’t been aware of how intense Gabriel’s emotions had become. Amaury’s gift didn’t work over the wire. He needed a certain physical proximity to hone in on people’s feelings.
Quinn bounced a confused look between them. “Ecstatic about what?”
It appeared the New York boss hadn’t yet filled his employees in on the latest developments in the Woodford household.
“Samson’s going to be a father,” Gabriel replied. “Didn’t waste time, did he?”
Only three months earlier, Samson and Delilah had bonded.
“They are good together.” Amaury cast a wistful look out the window as he ran his palm along the cool, smooth mahogany inlay on the door.
He would have preferred it if Gabriel had chosen to talk about work rather than make small talk. He needed to get the image of the happy couple out of his mind. Talking about other people’s happiness was too much in contrast with his own empty life.
“Wow, that’s great,” Quinn commented.
Amaury needed to terminate the chit-chat.
“Have you put together a strategy, Gabriel? What’s your plan?” Action was a good way to get his mind onto other things.
“I called Ricky from the plane. First, we’ll hold a staff meeting. We’ll keep in the background and let Ricky run it, but we’ll be using our powers to scan their minds. Basically, it’s you and me, Amaury. I’ll try to unlock their memories and go through them to find anything useful, and you’ll get to their emotions and find out what they are thinking,” Gabriel explained.
Amaury shifted in his seat. He saw a major headache approaching, literally and figuratively.
“There’s a big difference between thinking and feeling,” Amaury pushed back. “You know as well as I do that I can’t read people’s minds. Sure, I can figure out roughly what they might be thinking based on what their emotional state is, but it’s in no way reliable or detailed. Your gift is much more precise. Maybe we should just rely on yours.”
Amaury was so used to sensing emotions that his brain had started translating them into thoughts for him, but he had no idea if his brain was doing a good job or not.
“No, we need you for this,” Gabriel protested.
The sound in Gabriel’s voice told Amaury that he wouldn’t be let off the hook. And right now, he was too tired for a verbal fight which he wasn’t sure he would win at the best of times. “We’re talking several hundred people here. We can’t do it all in one session.” There was no way he could take in that many emotions all at once. The pain would be excruciating.
“We’ll break them up into smaller groups. How many can you handle at one time?”
Preferably one at a time.
“Twenty-five, maybe.” He would never risk being seen as a wimp. “How about you?”
“Twenty-five will be just fine. I’ll instruct Ricky. We can’t get all of them together at the same time anyway. We’ll have a few busy nights ahead of us.”
Amaury realized Gabriel was right—those would be busy nights. There wouldn’t be much time to hunt for a fresh meal or get enough sex to keep his pain at bay. He would have to find time to sneak away, otherwise things would get dicey for him. Anywhere close to forty-eight hours without sex and he’d start climbing the walls.
“What will the others do?”
“I’ll be at the staff meetings with you and Gabriel,” Yvette responded. Amaury raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. He caught Gabriel’s gaze on him.
“Yvette will be useful. She has a photographic memory like Samson.”
Now there was a tidbit of information he didn’t know about her. How had that ever escaped him? Great, and she’d seen him naked. Did she still carry that particular image in her mind? Amaury cringed. “Perfect.” He tried to keep all sarcasm out of his voice, but wasn’t so sure he succeeded.
Zane cleared his throat. “I’ll be infiltrating the criminal elements of the city to listen to the grapevine. I’m sure I’ll dig something up.”
“I should help you with that,” Amaury offered. Navigating the underbelly of San Francisco was much more up his alley than being cooped up in a room with twenty-five employees and their emotions. At least he would get to kick some ass. Being out with Zane virtually guaranteed it.
“We’ll need you at the staff meetings,” Gabriel insisted, his tone growing increasingly annoyed. “As I already said, we need your gift.”
Gift, my ass! It’s a curse!
Before Amaury could respond, a loud noise jolted him. In the next instant, smoke rose from underneath the car’s hood and entered through the vents.
“Carl, what was that?”
“Don’t know, but it’s not good. Hold on everybody,” Carl yelled.
They were already in a residential street in the outskirts of San Francisco. Carl jerked the car toward the shoulder, but seemed to have difficulty steering as the engine suddenly petered out.
“Carl, talk to me,” Amaury ordered. His hand gripped the handle bar above the window.
“Engine blew, brakes are sticky, and the steering is stiff. What else do you want? A running commentary?”
For the first time since he’d known Carl, he saw him lose his temper. His shoulders drawn up, the skin on his neck muscles pulling into tight horizontal lines, Carl was as close to panic as Amaury had ever seen him.
The car flew over a bump on the road and landed hard, lifting everybody out of their seats before they landed hard on their butts again. Vampires weren’t into wearing seatbelts.
Another wild steering maneuver and Carl brought the vehicle over the sidewalk. Both the curb and the thick brush the car grazed helped stop it inches before it hit a low fence.
Amaury looked at his colleagues. Everybody appeared a little disheveled, but nobody was hurt.
Immediately, Carl pulled the lever for the hood and jumped out, Amaury on his heels. He heard displeased grunts behind him as he joined Carl who’d already propped the hood up. With his hands Carl waved the smoke and steam away, before he started inspecting the engine.
“Damn,” Carl exclaimed after several seconds.
“What?”
“Here, see this?” Carl
pointed to a hose, not that Amaury knew exactly what it was. It appeared to be blown to bits. “This didn’t just happen on its own. Somebody made sure it did. This was no accident.” Carl’s grave look was worrisome. He wasn’t one to spurt baseless accusations.
Amaury trusted Carl’s assessment, even though he himself couldn’t confirm it. Other than driving a fast German car, he wasn’t really into the mechanics of it. He left that up to people who found tinkering with an engine interesting.
Carl pointed at some tiny items hanging off the shredded hose. Amaury followed his finger. Two wires.
“Looks like somebody didn’t want us to get back. Somebody set a charge.”
“Shit.” Amaury raised his head to scan the horizon and then looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes to sunrise.”
Five
The New York vampires scrambled out of the car and congregated around the open hood. Quinn gave the engine a more than cursory look as he bent over it and sniffed.
“The engine’s shot. We can’t rig it here. Takes too long.” Quinn gave Amaury a knowing look. “Explosives.”
Amaury nodded.
“What now?” Gabriel asked, his voice tense.
“I’ll call Oliver to pick us up in the blackout van.” Carl flipped his phone open.
“No time. We’ll be toast before he gets here. We need to hide,” Amaury said.
“Where?” Yvette asked, looking around the quiet neighborhood. “You don’t suggest we break into a house and scare the shit out of the inhabitants, do you?”
“That’s exactly what we’ll have to do,” Zane insisted. “There’s no time for your misplaced sensitivities.” There was a dangerous undertone in his voice.
“Exposure is to be avoided at all cost,” Yvette retorted.
Zane took a step toward her, going nose to nose as he let out a low snarl. “Would you rather be exposed to the sun? That can be arranged.”
“Shut up, Zane, and leave her alone,” Amaury defended her. He had a better idea. “Let’s go. Keep up with me. There’s a house for sale about four blocks up.”
“As much as I like California, I don’t think this is the time to buy a house, Amaury,” Quinn interrupted. As always he was the most relaxed amongst them.
“You don’t have to buy it, but I’d like to show you guys the inside. Right now.”
Amaury launched into a jog. His friends joined him as he ran along the sidewalk.
“Don’t you need an appointment to show a house?” Quinn asked in a casual tone.
Amaury pulled out his electronic lockbox key from his jacket pocket and waved it at Quinn. “Not if you have a key to it.”
“We’d better be prepared to use our powers in case somebody’s there,” Gabriel advised.
“It’s vacant. I was going to check it out for Samson and Delilah. We can hide out there until Oliver can come and get us.”
Yvette pulled up next to him as they continued running down the street. “I didn’t expect you defending me against Zane.” Was she going to thank him? Now that was a departure from their previous interactions. “In any case, I can take care of myself.”
No, didn’t sound like a thank you after all.
Amaury gave her a sideways glance. “It means nothing.” He didn’t want her to get the impression he’d gone soft. Zane had been out of line, and Yvette’s concern was valid. That was all that was to it. Other than that he didn’t give a rat’s ass about what she thought of him.
“Still keeping up the same old face, huh?” Her voice had a mocking tone in it he didn’t appreciate.
“It’s the only one I got.” Before Yvette could come back with another smart remark, which he sensed was coming any second now, Gabriel’s voice interrupted them.
“Is this it?” He pointed at the large Georgian-style home with a FOR SALE sign on the front lawn.
Amaury sprinted to the gate. He found the familiar blue lockbox bolted to it. Swiftly, he punched his PIN into his electronic key and pointed it at the lockbox. A faint beeping sound indicated the two devices were communicating.
He glanced over his shoulder. In a few seconds the sun would breach the horizon.
Finally, he heard a click and pressed the container. It released a cradle and with it the key to the house.
“Got it.”
When he looked up, he saw his five companions already hovering at the entrance door, their eyes pinned on the horizon. They made way for him to get to the lock. A few seconds later the key turned, and the door opened.
“Quick, pull the blinds and the curtains shut,” he instructed as they rushed in, each of them running into another room to close the drapes and blinds, shielding them from the rising sun.
“There are no blinds in the kitchen,” came Quinn’s voice.
Amaury had already slammed the entrance door shut behind him. “Shut the kitchen door.”
A quick survey of the house showed him that the best place to wait was in the den, which not only had dark drapes, but also backed up to a sheltered yard with lush trees. The property was tastefully staged with rented furniture, even though it was unoccupied.
“We made it.” Gabriel sighed with relief.
Amaury overheard Carl talking on his cell, instructing Oliver to pick them up.
“Samson obviously has other things on his mind if he can’t even ensure the security of his own people,” Zane chided, clearly needing an outlet for his anger at the situation.
Amaury shot him a warning look, but Carl was faster when it came to an answer.
“Mr. Woodford doesn’t deserve your disrespect, and, not that it’s any of your business, circumstances—”
“Nobody should have ever gotten a chance at placing an explosive charge in the car,” Zane shot back.
Amaury felt Carl’s indignation physically and quickly turned to hide his face from the group as their collective emotions crashed into him. This pain would never change. Even his shrink had practically given up on him.
During his last session a week earlier, Dr. Drake had suggested taking a break. Amaury could still hear his voice. “It’s got nothing to do with psychoanalysis. Your problem is not psychological.”
Amaury had shot up from his chair and jerked his coat from the hanger, toppling the flimsy metal coat stand. “Thanks a lot. After spending a fortune on these sessions, now you have the insight that it’s got nothing to do with my psyche? That’s rich!”
“Listen, Amaury. We’ve explored every possibility. It’s time to concede to the inevitable. You were cursed, and none of my medical skills will help you lift this curse. You need a witch to help you, not a psychiatrist.”
“You forget that witches don’t exactly like us.”
In fact, witches and vampires were sworn enemies. Not many of the modern vampires remembered how this animosity had started, but when it came down to it, the two factions were at war. It was all about witches being good and vampires being bad, which was all a bunch of horsecrap anyway.
“I can’t help you anymore when it comes to my profession. And we both know that alleviating the pain with sex is only a temporary measure. You’ll need to find something permanent.” He’d paused, before he’d suddenly changed his tone. “There’s one thing I can do though.”
Amaury had looked at the doctor as he’d lowered his voice as if he was afraid of being overheard. With two steps Drake had crossed the distance between them.
“There’s a witch who owes me a favor. I’ll talk to her on your behalf and see whether she knows how to release you from your pain. But I can’t promise anything.”
Amaury had shaken the doctor’s hand, grateful there was a glimmer of hope, no matter how faint. Over a week had passed since, and still there was no reply from Drake.
An angry voice pulled him back into the present. “Whoever it was, we’ll get the bastard,” Zane replied, rage rolling off him.
“You okay?” Gabriel asked suddenly.
Amaury jerked his head. “Yeah, sure.” But he wasn’t certain fo
r how long he would be alright. Already the ride in the car had taxed his mind. If he had to spend another half hour with them and feel their agitated emotions invade his head, he’d go crazy.
“What did Oliver say?”
“He’ll be here in about twenty minutes. He said he had to MapQuest the address first,” Carl assured him.
Amaury rolled his eyes. MapQuest? What would these young kids do if they didn’t have a computer? They wouldn’t find their way around their own back pockets. When Amaury had grown up, there had barely been any accurate maps of an entire continent, let alone a neighborhood.
Amaury shook his head and glanced at his colleagues. The four vampires from New York sat slumped in the chairs and on the sofa. Carl stood to the side as Amaury continued pacing back and forth. He needed to be alone and rest his mind.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Carl whispered to him.
He nodded.
“It wasn’t a coincidence that you had to park the car outside the garage. It gave somebody the opportunity to mess with it. Somebody planned this.”
Amaury leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. It was pretty evident. Somebody was trying to stop them from getting reinforcements in. Which meant somebody was watching them and knew their every move. They would have to be on their toes every minute of the day and night.
“You wouldn’t have any bottled blood on you, Carl, would you?” Yvette asked.
Carl pulled out a flask from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “There isn’t much. It’s just my emergency stash.”
Yvette pushed the bottle back into his hand. “Keep it. I can hold out for a little while longer.”
“No, please, I don’t need it. I fed earlier,” Carl insisted and handed the bottle back to her.
To Amaury’s knowledge Carl had never fed from a human. He’d been raised on bottled blood and was comparably young. He’d been a vampire for only eighteen years, sired by Samson who’d found him dying after a vicious attack. Carl was the only vampire ever created by Samson.
“No, thanks, that’s okay.” When she tried to hand the bottle back to Carl, Zane jerked up from the couch and snatched it.
