The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - James

by CC MacKenzie

  "Coward. Show yourself to me, vampyre," she almost hissed the words.

  Oh my God.

  What the hell had happened to that soft, sweet voice? The low tone sounded as if her vocal chords had been ripped out and stitched back together all wrong.

  His vampyre didn’t give a rat’s ass about her voice or anything else as it leapt.

  From deep inside her mind, Charlotte Gillespie felt as if she was watching a horror movie, except she was appearing, living, in the starring role.

  Huddled in a dark corner of her psyche she watched James change from her loving husband into a fanged and brutal monster. Without mercy his hand lifted to slide tight around her throat. Then he slammed her body against the wall.

  Trapped in a helpless agony of bone and muscle, Charlotte whimpered and closed her eyes tight as if to deny this was really happening to her.

  But it made no difference, the being that lived within her roared in her mind. Every time she so much as took a breath or tried to have an original thought the beast that had taken over her body, her psyche, lashed out. And Charlotte knew she’d never survive living like this. Existing in a state of perpetual terror.

  Then, as if from far, far, away, came the sound of a man's cry.

  Ezekiel’s voice, so weak it was barely heard, now drifted through her mind, through the horror gripping her throat so hard she knew she'd be left bruised.

  ‘Help me, Charlotte. Help me...’

  She squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

  Now what?

  Now she was hearing voices in her head along with the constant whispering about vampyres and witchcraft? Why couldn’t they all just go away and leave her in peace?

  Panic reigned now as it hurled more adrenaline into her battered system.

  She couldn’t take much more of this.

  But then she tuned back into what was happening to her physical body.

  James wasn’t hurting her, but her heart was racing in her throat and his thumb rubbed the spot.

  The thing that was her husband was speaking.

  "Don’t you dare disrespect me, wife."

  Huddled in the darkest corner of her mind, Charlotte watched her vampyre narrow her eyes as her fangs, sharp and too white, flashed.

  "Respect? You do not know the meaning of the word, husband."

  The word husband was filled to the brim with such utter disdain her husband tightened his fingers around her neck.

  She didn’t even flinch. "I do not trust you, prince. I do not want you as my mate."

  James let her go so fast she staggered and placed the flat of her hands against the wall to steady herself. The movement was agony, but she'd rather die than show him how much he'd hurt her.

  It cost him, because his heart was breaking into thousands of tiny pieces, but James managed to take control of his vampyre.

  "I want to talk to my wife, vampyre. You will release her."

  Those eyes the color of the deepest crimson went into slits and James resisted the urge to let his vampyre have his way and teach his woman a lesson she’d never forget. But not only Saira’s remarks held him back. He could see absolutely no sign of attraction or arousal for him from her. And he didn’t feel attracted to her either when she was in this state, and that fact absolutely floored him.

  "She is a weak, pathetic being who is so terrified she refuses to acknowledge my existence."

  He spoke in a low, soft voice, "Release her. Or I will turn around walk out of here and never come back. And you should know this." Taking a step closer he looked into those merciless eyes and spoke directly to Charlotte from the heart. "You cannot exist as separate entities living in one body. You need to learn to merge with and control your vampyre or you will die. Let me help you. I was wrong not to tell you the truth, Charlie. I love you so much. Please come back to me," his voice broke, but pride in tatters, he battled on, "I need you."

  For endless moments he simply stared into the pitiless eyes of the vampyre, desperately seeking a flicker of humanity, but he found none.

  Heartsick, James stepped back and knew he’d never forgive himself for doing this to her.

  Her vampyre was incredibly strong willed, fighting for her very survival after a baptism of fire. He understood that strength. Hell, he even respected it. But there was no way she could survive living solely as a vampyre. She was his wife and his responsibility which meant he could not let her go free to be a danger to herself and humanity. Eventually, she’d be hunted like an animal by humans and vampyres alike and killed.

  The situation had turned into a complete nightmare.

  He’d done this to her and he needed to fix it.

  Ultimately, if Charlotte was unable to merge fully with her vampyre, he would take full responsibility for what would happen next. She would be destroyed by his hand. He loved her enough to ensure she didn’t suffer.

  Suppressing a shuddering breath, he turned to leave.

  His hand was on the door handle when a faint whisper had him spin around,

  "James?"

  He saw his wife was now curled up in a tight ball in a dark corner of the room and flashed to her side.

  She was in his arms so fast she cried out loud in utter terror and pain.

  He carried her to the bed and laid her down before switching the bedside light on low.

  Haunted green eyes that were too big for her face stared into his.

  She still had the curly dark hair which made her look so different, but he decided it suited her.

  A trembling hand reached up to touch his face and a desperate sob heaved from her throat.

  "You're alive," she whispered brokenly. "You’re real."

  James touched her face, stroked her hair and inhaled the sweet, sensual aroma that was his wife, combined with another scent that put his vampyre on a state of high alert.

  He firmly told his vampyre to back off.

  Her tears flowed freely down pale cheeks and he drank the salty evidence of her raw emotional state.

  "I’m sorry, so sorry, darlin’."

  Her voice was no more than a breath, "But James, we have a problem."

  He didn't care. He couldn’t stop touching her. He couldn’t stop pressing soft kisses to her forehead, her eyelids, the side of her mouth.

  Her eyes closed as she burrowed into the warm cashmere of his sweater.

  Now was not the time for his dick to fire.

  But, Christ, the feeling was so amazing he simply took the time to enjoy the moment of sheer bliss.

  Again she spoke, "James. We have a problem."

  He lifted his head and cupped her jaw.

  "There is nothing we cannot overcome together. Anais and Saira have promised to help you."

  She shook her head.

  "I’m hearing a voice in my head."

  Again he pressed his mouth gently to hers.

  "That’s your vampyre, darlin’, you’ll get used to her."

  "No. It’s a man’s voice. Ezekiel's voice. And he’s asking me again and again for help."

  Alarm had James bolt upright and immediately fear flooded those big green eyes he loved more than life itself.

  "Where is he?"

  She shook her head unable to answer the question.

  "I don’t know."

  With a tenderness that brought fresh tears streaming down her cheeks, James helped her sit.

  "Ask him."

  She didn't question his instruction. Charlotte was relieved that her husband didn't think she was a raving lunatic. She closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath.

  Trusting her instincts, she let her mind go and asked the question,

  'Where are you? How can I help?'

  After an unremitting moment she felt Ezekiel whisper a touch in her mind.

  But it was so faint she hardly heard him.

  'So brave. Good girl. I’m buried under your house. The sun will soon rise. I will not live to see another moon. Help me.'

  A vivid memory of how Anais and Ezekiel helped h
er in the operating theatre had the ER nurse, that was such an essential part of Charlotte's caring nature, rise to take control.

  Her eyes snapped open, flew to her husband who was watching her as if she was about to collapse.

  "He’s trapped. We must hurry, James."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Minutes later all the Gillespie vampyres along with Saira Pattullo stood in the rubble of the wreckage that had been James and Charlotte’s home.

  And Charlotte found it somehow fitting to be standing on the physical manifestation of what had become of her life.

  Saira strode up to her as Centuri, hundreds of them, landed from the sky.

  Charlotte couldn’t help it, her eyes went huge as she studied the massive leather clad vampyre warriors.

  But then the temperature in the air plunged like a stone as hundreds of Ezekiel's Legion landed, too and drew vast swords.

  As one, the Centuri unsheathed the steel of their weapons and went into defensive positions.

  "I wondered where those bastards were hiding," Saira muttered.

  Within the confines of her husband’s strong arms, Charlotte couldn’t control her shudder.

  "What are they?" she wanted to know.

  "Warriors of our Centuri and Ezekiel's Legionnaires," he said and held her even tighter.

  "Are they going to fight?" If they were, Charlotte wasn't sure she wanted to see a running battle.

  Saira shook her head. "Not this morning they’re not. We need to find Ezekiel. Can you sense him, Charlotte?"

  The thought of the big vampyre lying injured and helpless, his life fading away after everything he’d done for her, had duty overcome a crippling fear.

  Charlotte closed her eyes and sent out a call.

  'Ezekiel? We are here.'

  Every Legionnaire’s head jerked towards Charlotte as they heard her voice calling their leader.

  "Jesus, they can hear her," James whispered and pulled her even closer.

  In a protective move, he placed his big body between his wife and Ezekiel’s Legion.

  'Help me, Charlotte.'

  Charlotte eased out of his arms and walked carefully to the side of the house where her kitchen had once been.

  She pointed.

  "He’s here."

  Legionnaires at once began to remove bricks and rubble so fast Charlotte’s eyes refused to believe what she was seeing.

  A Legionnaire commander stepped towards her and immediately James and his brothers placed themselves between her and him.

  Charlotte dared a peek round the bulk of her husband to stare at the creature who was looking at her with something like disbelief in his strange eyes. Eyes the color of a blood-orange.

  The Legionnaire was a towering giant.

  Dressed in leathers the color of claret, his hair was streaked with grey and his eyes were mere slits as they stared into hers.

  The connection in her mind was instant.

  ‘I will not harm you, little witch. How has it come to pass that you are mated to a fiend?’

  Witch?

  Charlotte’s chin jerked up in a way that made the big Legionnaire’s mouth curve.

  Not with derision, but with an amusement that had a little of the tension in her belly ease away.

  'Have a care," she warned. "What is your name?'

  His leather’s creaked as he bowed low.

  'I am Nathan. Commander in Chief of my master’s Legion.'

  'How do you do, Nathan. I am Charlotte Gillespie and I am a...'" she took a shuddering breath as she accepted a hard truth. 'A vampyre and... a witch.'

  'My master speaks to you. How is this?'

  James turned to her and lifted a finger to her in warning.

  Now he turned to the Legionnaire and stepped forward.

  "We'll have no witchcraft here. If you speak to my wife use your tongue, abomination."

  At that, Charlotte jolted and shoved him away.

  "Am I an abomination, too?"

  She quite clearly heard James mutter under his breath, "Fuck."

  The Legionnaire grinned quite openly now and Marcus growled a warning.

  What might have happened next, Charlotte never knew because a shout of agony in her mind told her they’d found Ezekiel.

  Ignoring her husband’s yell of absolute fury, she plunged towards the members of his Legion who were about to move him, with Saira Pattullo and Centuri hot on her heels.

  She stopped dead.

  She didn’t need to touch him, a mix of pity and dismay rose in heart.

  Charlotte could see Ezekiel was horribly injured.

  He looked as if a blade had slashed his torso from hip to hip. Only the leather armour was keeping his innards in place. His leg was sliced cleanly through his leathers right to the bone from hip to knee.

  "Do not touch him," she ordered in a tone that stopped everyone in their tracks.

  Dropping to her knees next to the wounded man, she flashed James a warning look as he made to grab her. "I'm a nurse. This is what I do."

  Her gaze took in how much weight Ezekiel had lost and studied a lean face grey with torment.

  "What do you need from me?" she asked him.

  ‘Feed me,’ he begged, his response was no more than a breath in her mind.

  Confused, she blinked.

  She had no food with her.

  She cocked her head and her enquiring eyes met Nathan’s.

  "You need to give him your blood," he told her.

  James’s howl of anguish nearly made her jump out of her skin.

  Obviously giving her blood to a vampyre was a no-no.

  Too bad.

  Ignoring the ice pooling in her belly, she refused to let terror rule her.

  "How do I do that?"

  Now her own vampyre spoke in her mind. 'I can help. Let me do it.'

  Charlotte’s vampyre rose. Her fangs dropped from her gums and she ignored the shocked collective gasp of Centuri and Legion alike.

  What the hell was their big deal?

  She didn’t have time to worry about it since her intuition was screaming that Ezekiel was fast running out of time.

  Her fangs bit into her wrist as she held the wound to his mouth, but her blood simply ran across his lips leaching into the earth.

  Nathan immediately knelt and took his master’s head and forced his mouth open.

  Charlotte’s blood dribbled into Ezekiel's mouth as Nathan massaged his neck forcing him to swallow.

  'Thank you. I require your special brand of... magic,' Ezekiel spoke in her mind.

  She pressed her wrist to his mouth.

  But couldn’t suppress a wince as his fangs sank into her vein.

  ‘Who did this to you?’ she asked.

  Never in a million years could she have imagined the answer to her question.

  'Demons.'

  Stunned, Charlotte's mind still was a bit shaky as she absorbed the disorienting fact that she was not only a witch and a vampyre, but now there were demons, too?

  Terror again sought to rise to rule again in her mind, but Charlotte battled to force it back and to concentrate and focus her efforts on her patient.

  And all the while James was cursing long and loud in the background.

  Her husband sounded demented but she didn’t have the time or the inclination to soothe him.

  Then Ezekiel released her.

  His tongue sealed the wound.

  'That is enough. Tell Saira I need her vein.'

  The world spun as Charlotte’s vampyre released her.

  She rose on legs that weren’t quite steady and James caught her to him.

  Her husband was trembling in a way that made her wrap her arms around him and hold on tight.

  Every vampyre, Centuri and Legionnaire, stood perfectly still as her gaze found Saira’s.

  "He needs your vein."

  The flash of pained anguish on the medic’s face had Charlotte stare hard at her.

  But Saira nodded and dug her fangs into her w
rist.

  This time a collective gasp rose from the Centuri as she knelt and placed her bloody flesh to the mouth of the witch. It appeared Saira had broken a rule, too.

  And as he drank, Charlotte couldn’t believe what her eyes were seeing.

  Ezekiel's wounds slowly began to knit from the inside, to heal.

  It was all too much.

  For the first time in her life Charlotte Gillespie fainted.

  Chapter Fifteen

  New York

  James hadn't wanted to travel with his brothers to New York; hadn't wanted to leave his sick wife in the vampyre hospital deep underground in San Francisco, but when his father issued a Juristic summons, what choice did he have?

  Now he was seated in the boardroom of Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch. He didn't like the leaden feeling in his gut as he watched the faces on the myriad of flat screens on the wall. The Pattullo vampyres, led by Cristophe, were in Rome, every Italian face set hard as stone. Led by Samuel, the Hindmarch vampyres were based in London, their eyes cold as ice. Also in Rome sat the seven Precedential Elders including the Asian Damasio Casta and Constantine Mabille, two of the most powerful leaders of the vampyre nation. He shuddered when he saw who else was at the meeting. Dressed in religious garb that forcibly reminded him of monks, Vassili and Voltaire watched like two beady-eyed black crows ready to pick at the bones of the fallen. Christ, he hated priests of the Order. They did nothing but spread lies, rumour and dissent. Who the hell had invited them to a Juristic summons?

  Dressed in a slick grey suit with a pristine shirt of white cotton and a conservative tie of the finest silk, Constantine leaned forward in his chair as he studied the Gillespie vampyres. James thought he looked like an action hero movie star with his inky black hair, strong jaw, sharp good looks.

  Constantine turned to look at James.

  Pale blue eyes seemed to look right through him. "James, how is Charlotte?"

  "Through the worst of it. She's doing well," he said, keeping the comments to mere platitudes. No point in saying too much about his wife's supposed magical ability until he and his family got a handle on it.

  Cristophe cleared his throat, the Italian's eyes like slits. "James, I wish to express my deep regret at what Eleanor has done to you and your family. My daughter has brought shame to our house, our..."