by BJ Wane
“Architectural, geographical, sociological and spiritual trends motivated our Creole forebears to honor the dead in above ground family tombs in 1789, and still stand as proud witness today,” Caitlin informed her small tour group as she opened the rod iron gates and led them into St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. Jagged streaks of lightning off in the distance added to the eeriness of entering a cemetery after dark. Rusty, decorative ironwork and sun-bleached tombs could barely be seen by widely spaced, dimly lit lanterns along the paths. “St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 is the oldest and most famous of New Orleans three Roman Catholic Cemeteries, also called the Cities of the Dead. On these grounds you will find the final resting places of such famous New Orleanians as Bernard de Marigny, the French Creole playboy who brought the game of craps to the United States and the renowned Voodoo priestess, Marie Laveau.”
Caitlin lifted her hand held battery operated torch a little higher as she led the six tourists deeper into the cemetery, reciting from memory the informative dialog that gave them a brief history of one of New Orleans most popular tourist destinations. Normally she enjoyed filling in as a guide on these after dark tours when needed, got a kick out of embellishing her tales with a mix of fact and fiction surrounding the lives of those buried here, but tonight her sixth sense was kicking in again, making her edgy and uncomfortable. Or maybe it was the dogged persistence of two hot brothers that had her so tense.
Ignoring them the last two nights had proven harder to do than she had anticipated. She had never had a problem putting a sexual encounter out of her mind once the man left her bed, but forgetting her first ménage or the two men who had given her the most intensely pleasurable night of her life was proving to be nearly impossible. She had been severely irritated when her body reacted to their presence in her bar the next night as if they hadn’t spent a few hours the night before scratching her itch. It had been a struggle, but she managed to stay clear of them, kept busy with other customers and ignored the way they kept their eyes on her no matter where she was in the bar. As if that didn’t make her uncomfortable enough, the sound of their taunting voices in her head nearly had her giving in, her reaction to that intimate way of communicating just as strong as it was the first time they did it. She still didn’t know how the three of them were able to speak to each other that way, and didn’t want to know. She absolutely refused to give any credence to their crazy assertion that just because they had matching birthmarks they were somehow soul mates.
“What a crock,” she muttered, despite the way her inner thigh had pulsed with erotic warmth the entire time they were near. That persistent, irritating, lust inducing reaction was one of the reasons she had offered to take this gig tonight for the tour company she subbed for. Her determination to avoid getting involved with Jon and Luc again had been in serious jeopardy by the time they left last night and she closed up, her body on fire with arousal that she was hard pressed, but determined to ignore. She figured all she needed was a little breathing room; a little time away from them to get over whatever it was that had her reacting to them so strongly.
The midnight horizon lit up with another blinding streak of lightning followed by a loud clap of thunder that echoed in the dark cemetery. Caitlin ignored the foreboding threatening her composure as she pointed out graves of murdered victims who were reportedly seen haunting their ancestral homes or markers of people who had died under mysterious circumstances, adding rumors of voodoo spells and vampire lore to her stories to titillate the three young couples and give them the ‘spooky after dark cemetery tour’ they wanted. Crosses and statues jutted from tomb surfaces and cast contrasting shadows, adding to the sense of mystery, the brewing storm giving the entire area a backdrop that enhanced the otherworldly atmosphere she was trying to spin.
“Marie Laveau was respected and feared by all, skilled in the practice of medicine as well as the healing qualities of indigenous herbs,” she stated when they stopped at the voodoo queen’s burial crypt. “Marie was all-knowing and all-powerful. She could easily help you get a lover, keep a lover or get rid of a lover.”
“Have you ever seen a ghost haunting these graves?” one of the women asked, her grin mocking as if she wasn’t going to believe Caitlin if she said yes.
“As a matter of fact,” Caitlin began right before a sudden chill crawled slowly over her body. In disbelief, she watched five figures suddenly materialize in front of her, separating her from her guests. She immediately recognized two of them as the men who had attempted to accost her in the alley the other night. Just like them, the other three had stringy hair and vacant, dead looking eyes. As one, they shuffled closer to her, the malevolent look on their pale faces making her shiver in foreboding.
“Get out of here,” she told the tourists who were staring wide eyed in morbid fascination at the unfolding tableau. “Damn it, this isn’t an act. Run!” Dry mouthed with fear, she could do nothing but brace herself for their attack, her small knife already clutched in her hand little comfort against the five of them. There was something not quite right about them, but as one, they leaped toward her and she didn’t have time to figure out what it was.
“What the fuck do you mean she’s not here?” Luc snarled at Bobby, glaring intimidatingly at the smaller man. “Where is she?” They hadn’t expected Caitlin to not be at the bar on a Friday night, hadn’t thought she would be so desperate to avoid them that she’d ignore their warnings that she wasn’t safe after dark without them, especially after facing the threat of the two cretins Monday night.
“She’s busy elsewhere tonight and that’s all you need to know,” Bobby answered them, refusing to back down under their intimidating glares. Caitlin had been very specific about not revealing her whereabouts to these two if they showed up again, and from the stress on her face, Bobby knew she needed some time away. Cat never got involved beyond a night or two of sex, and even those instances had been non-existent for over a year. That she broke her self-imposed celibacy for these two was telling, as was her frustration over her failure to cope with their dogged persistence since.
“No,” Jon said with deceptive softness, “that’s not all we need to know. She’s not safe without us, could, at this very moment, be in grave danger. Where. Is. She?”
“Look, I know Cat better than anyone. She’s street smart and adept at handling herself. You don’t have to worry about her.” From the real concern and worry on their faces, Bobby was beginning to wonder if there was something else going on here. The addition of the third man bothered him, making him wonder if there was a specific threat against her that required the extra backup.
“She’s no match for what’s after her.” Grabbing him by his shirt, Luc hauled the bartender across the bar, lowering his face until he could stare into the whites of the other man’s eyes. “We’re not out to harm her, only protect her. You, on the other hand, won’t be safe from our wrath if anything happens to her.”
“Okay, okay,” Bobby gasped as he struggled against Luc’s tight grip. There was a strange glow in his tawny eyes that had him shaking, as well as a grim determination to do whatever it took to get the answer they wanted.
“We don’t have time to play nice. Where is she?”
Worry colored the other brother’s voice, his look a little less intense but just as ruthlessly determined. She could do worse, Bobby thought as he gave in and shook his head. Maybe these two were just what she needed to convince her there was a life for her outside of this bar, something both he and Dan had failed to get her to even consider.
“She’s giving a tour at St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. It’s…” Bobby stuttered to a stop when both men sped out of the bar so fast he had to blink twice and shake his head to see if he was hallucinating. No, they were gone in a blur of speed that had not only him, but several other patrons looking at the door in either confused bewilderment or gaping astonishment. “Jesus,” he breathed, his worry for Caitlin increasing. “Who the hell has she gotten tied up with?”
Caitlin fought the
blinding panic exploding inside of her as she struggled against the vice like hold of one of her assailants, a growl vibrating up his throat followed by a flash of lethal looking fangs. “Look, you moronic jerk, this isn’t funny,” she managed to gasp, refusing to even consider that those teeth were real. “This is a private tour and I didn’t ask for any real-life embellishments.” And she knew the company she worked for would have told her if they had planned adding to the tour’s agenda with a mock vampire attack.
Spittle flew from his mouth as he leered down at her, enjoying her puny, futile struggles. “Baby, this is as real as it gets.” Lowering his head, he pulled back his lips, aiming for the pounding pulse in the side of her lily white neck.
The other four assailants now surrounded her, close enough she started to gag at their fetid stench, close enough she could see their impossibly bright, glowing eyes and wicked, pointed teeth that looked way too real for her liking. A burst of white-hot pain blossomed on her neck as the one holding her pierced her skin, the coppery smell of her own blood unmistakable. Shutting out the twitters from the tourists who thought they were being entertained by a show straight out of a horror film, she struggled in earnest, managing to bring up her hand holding the knife enough to plunge her blade into the neck biting assailants thigh, his surprised shriek of pain making him release his teeth from her neck and slacken his arms enough for her to break loose.
Her freedom was short lived, however, as she had only managed a step back when more hands grabbed her, eerie, taunting laughter surrounding her, her senses reeling from their odious smell and the evil intent glittering in their eyes. She struggled anew, not even realizing she was calling out to the six tourists for help as she blindly kicked, scratched, screamed and wriggled in an attempt to escape them, clawing mercilessly at cold clammy skin and aiming to gauge their deadened eyes.
One minute Caitlin was in a frenzied battle for her life and the next she was miraculously free, standing alone, panting and staring wide-eyed at Jon, Luc and another man in a free for all with her attackers. Reaching up to her neck, her fingers came away sticky, making her shudder as her eyes went from the sight of her own blood to see Luc spin on the balls of his feet with blurring speed, sweeping his leg in an arc and slamming against the back of the knees of one of her attackers, sending him to the ground. Luc quickly pinned him, his mouth pulled back in a feral snarl, revealing pointed incisors that looked as real and as deadly as those on the assailants.
“Holy shit, Dorothy,” she whispered under her breath, “I definitely don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”
Luc’s rage knew no bounds as he pinned the rogue beneath him, the sight of Caitlin being surrounded and pawed by these scum suckers forever etched into his brain. Withdrawing his blade, he sank it into the rogue’s heart, ignoring his pleas for mercy as he staked him to the ground, waiting until he completely disintegrated before getting up. Looking around, he saw Jon slice through the neck of the rogue he held in front of him, his own thunderous expression merciless as blood sprayed through the air in a fine crimson mist. Confident his brother could finish him off without help, he turned to look for the other three and Jacob.
Despite his weakness, Jacob felt his battle instincts stir as soon as they materialized in the cemetery, his senses lifting to the next level of acuity. Within seconds he had two of the rogues attacking a red headed woman by the scruff of their necks, tossing them aside, unable to do anything to prevent another one from dematerializing. Unfortunately, his diminished strength only landed them at his feet. Faster than he could recover, one was up and on him, his blade sinking into Jacob’s abdomen with sickening ease and blood gushing depth. His vision blurred, but he held on long enough to smoke the crazed rogue, reducing him to a pile of ash with one well-aimed plunge of his own dagger.
Vaguely, he heard both Jon and Luc cry out a warning, but the rapid loss of what little blood he still retained after going almost a week without feeding kept him from responding fast enough to avoid the knife of the second rogue. Blistering pain engulfed him as the blade sank into his neck, his last coherent thought of Grace, and how she would now be free to live a normal life, before he felt himself sliding toward a black void of nothingness.
“You fucking son of a bitch,” Jon swore at his friend as he caught Jacob’s body before he hit the ground, fear, anger and despair coloring his tone. Biting into his own wrist, he let Luc take most of his weight as he held his wrist to Jacob’s mouth, ordering him to feed before he was beyond hope. But Jacob turned his head then completely sagged in their arms, his face sheet white. “I’ll get him back; you take care of Caitlin and this mess. We don’t have time to search out the one who got away.”
“He’s probably slinking back to his mistress with his tail between his legs. Caitlin will be coming back with me,” Luc stated grimly as he shifted Jacob’s body over to Jon and turned to stare hard at their mate. “Whether she wants to or not.”
The sound of applause and cheering from her tour group had Caitlin turning from the macabre scene of vampires fighting to the death, followed by what had to be mortal injuries to one of Jon and Luc’s friends and then the sudden disappearance of Jon with his friend’s body, his eyes cutting to her with ruthless intensity and promise for one brief second.
“That was awesome,” one of the men called out. “It looked so real. How’d you do it?” he asked eagerly as Luc approached the group slowly, ignoring Caitlin for the moment.
“You’ll never know,” he responded right before resting his palms on each of their heads in turn, erasing their memories as quickly as possible before turning to his mate. “You’re hurt. Let me fix it before they rouse.”
Caitlin stood still as he approached her, her disbelieving look going from the glazed faces of her group to Luc’s hard countenance. Gone was the playfully flirting lover of the past few days. In his place stood a man determined to get what he wanted, and right now, that was her. She didn’t fear him so much as she feared what she saw, and its implications. “Who…what are you?” she bravely asked, lifting her chin a notch. She had always prided herself on her unflinching courage in the face of adversity, but right now, the cowardly lion that followed Dorothy down the yellow brick road to Oz had more courage than she did.
“I am what you saw, Caitlin, but not what attacked you. Those creatures were rogues, the true undead, evil and destined to slide slowly into madness. I am one of the Brethren, a select few who can survive the bite of a master vampire without going insane. One,” he added, holding up his palm, “who is born with this telltale mark. The one destined to be your mate, along with my brother.” Unable to resist the sight and smell of her blood a moment longer, he dipped his head and licked the thin stream from one small puncture wound, savoring her taste as his body accepted the nourishment with a burst of lust and strength he was hard pressed to ignore. Unfortunately, now was not the time, and this definitely wasn’t the place for him to give in to the demanding urge to take her.
“So, you’re one of the good….vampires?” Despite the terror and stress of the past fifteen minutes, Caitlin felt the sexual pull of her body towards his, the demand for more, the need to slake her adrenaline fueled lust, made even more demanding when his tongue stroked over her neck wound, replacing the pain with warmth and nipple tightening, pussy gushing pleasure. Swearing at her uncharacteristic response, she pulled back, glaring up at him. “It’s fine. Is your friend going to be all right?”
“I don’t know.” Ignoring her first question, he answered her second curtly, her inquiry working as effectively as a glass of ice water in the face. “His fate now lies with his mate, so I’m not holding out much hope. Let’s go.”
“I need to get them back to the tour office,” she said, surprised at how sorry she felt for the man she didn’t even know. Or maybe it was the pain on Luc’s face that had her feeling such empathy.
Luc looked back at the six idiots who had thought Caitlin’s attack was all a show and did nothing to help her. Curling
his lip in disdain, he murmured, “By all means, let’s rid ourselves of these morons first.”
Unable to sleep, Grace was standing on the small balcony off Jacob’s bedroom gazing at the incoming storm. She had always enjoyed thunderstorms, loved curling up with a good book with the sound of rain pelting the window, the echo of thunder rumbling in the distance. But tonight the inky night sky lighting up from another bolt of lightning followed swiftly by the loud clap of thunder and the first drops of cool, spring rain felt anything but soothing. The turbulence of the weather seemed to feed the turbulence of the storm that had been raging within her for weeks now, ever since Jacob had stepped into Mason’s bedroom and looked at her out of those burning, enigmatic green eyes.
She missed him. As surprising as it was difficult for her to admit, she had missed him these past few days. Her body felt numb without the hum of constant arousal his nearness always evoked, her mind chaotic without his constant reassuring voice telling her to trust him. Now that she had finally gotten up the nerve to give that final step a try, he disappeared from her life as unexpectedly as he had barged in. What did you expect, she berated herself angrily, that he would wait forever? Maybe not forever, but she hadn’t considered he’d simply bail on her without a word, thought or explanation. She had taken his caring concern for her mental trauma for granted and was now paying the price.
The loud banging of the bedroom door being shoved open drew her attention, making her rush back inside. Nothing could have surprised her or distressed her more than seeing Jon and Damien half carrying, half dragging Jacob’s unconscious, blood soaked body to the bed. Throat closing up in panic and fear, she rushed to the bed, gasping, “What happened?”
“Rogue attack,” Jon bit out, his concern for his brethren, not Jacob’s mate. “He was too weak to fight them off.”
“Them?” Her hand flew to her throat as her gaze flew from Jacob’s still, pale form up to Jon’s accusing glare.
