The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - Daniel: Book: 3

by MacKenzie, CC

  "The Order are the epitome of pure evil. Like is attracted to like." Her eyes narrowed. "And why the vampyre council have not dealt with them before now is something I will never, ever, understand."

  "Aye. And just to add more bad news, James's wife Charlotte is a witch."

  Sorcha stopped dead, her skin turning so pale and translucent he thought she was going to pass out.

  "The Order will never, ever, let her live, Duncan. You must send her to me at once."

  He shook his head.

  "She is with child. James would never recover from her loss. Plus, she belongs in this world and she is also vampyre."

  "Yes, but she will need training."

  "She has Ezekiel."

  Sorcha sent him a sly little smile.

  "So, you have buried the hatchet with magic and are working with a white witch?"

  "We needed his help and he was nearly killed in the bid to save Charlotte and James. As a family we owe him much."

  Her response was to simply stare at him, her dark eyes steady and warm.

  Theirs was a love that transcended time and space and realities.

  He felt it now as his eyes held hers.

  She blinked and broke the moment.

  "What about Marcus's wife?"

  "She's an empath, just like Daniel."

  "And a fully emerged vampyre?"

  "Aye."

  She moved closer, reached out a hand as if to touch him.

  "Can you not see what is happening right in front of you?"

  Actually, he could, and that was why he needed her wise council. "Our sons are mating with women the world needs as fighters to protect Earth."

  Her hand dropped very slowly to her side. "Ying and Yang. Dear God, Duncan. The Earth is preparing. A magical war is coming."

  "Darlin’, the war has arrived."

  Chapter One

  How the hell had she ended up here?

  Two minutes to midnight and the tinkle of glasses, the low murmur of voices sounded too loud in Gia’s ears. Palms damp, her stomach in knots, stage-fright nearly made her knees buckle. Whoever said phobias were overcome the more you confronted them was a big fat liar.

  Smoking tobacco in public venues was banned in New York City, but someone had forgotten to tell the management of the exclusive Sly Fox club, since taking a single breath was like inhaling one hundred per cent pure nicotine. However, since the Ebola outbreak began gathering pace across the globe people were flouting the smoking ban. Governments, police and the establishment had bigger things to worry about.

  The skinny stage was unlit and the piano player tickled the keys as a jazz guitar strummed. A gaunt drummer clicked his sticks together in a countdown beat.

  Tall and wand slim in a sheath of gold leather that could have been sprayed on, Gia Della Russo hit centre stage as the spotlight struck her.

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and belted out the first bars of Adele’s big hit about fire and rain. Unaware of the stunned silence or the way heads jerked up in shock.

  She didn’t see mouths drop open and nor was she conscious that her voice had punched every gut with a power and an emotional intensity that made women’s eyes sting and every dick ache.

  Three hours later Gia counted two thousand dollars in hundreds and fifties, folding the money before tucking it inside a strapless bra that fully delivered on the promise to lift and separate.

  Thank God she’d agreed to take a percentage of the nights take rather than a flat fee of a few hundred dollars. After six nights the word had spread that the Sly Fox had a new singer with a heart-breaking voice like honeyed spoonfuls of soul. But no one would ever know what it cost her each and every night she stood before the punters, alone and too vulnerable as she sang her heart out.

  Dragging a grey hoodie over her dress, Gia kicked off the gold four inch heels and thrust her bare feet into tatty running shoes. She didn’t look in the mirror since she couldn’t cope with seeing the total stranger reflected there, reminding her of just how far she’d fallen. Sheer willpower alone kept the desperate wedge of tears in her throat from stinging her eyes.

  She’d come a long way from her Irish and Latin roots singing in the church choir of St. Columbus, a good catholic girl who’d never put a foot wrong.

  Until, as an adult, she'd made a big mistake.

  A mistake that had taught her to avoid good-looking charmers. Like everyone else hard lessons learned in the past were to be avoided in the present. A lesson that had directly influenced her choice of remaining celibate today. Liam’s honest blue eyes had conned her, her grandparents, and even their priest. Liam Del Russo had been quick with a joke and generous with his time and attention. He’d never talked about his kinsfolk other than to complain that they’d had plans for him to join the family firm. But he’d needed freedom to be his own man, he’d told her, to find his own road in life. His choice of career was something vague and far into the future.

  Naïve and starved of affection, Gia had sucked up every smooth word dripping from a clever tongue. Believed every slickly delivered line. He’d dazzled her with his charm, told her she was gorgeous, told her she was beautiful. The number of times he’d lost or forgotten his credit cards she'd been so dazzled by that little boy smile, she’d hardly noticed. And when in a fevered excitement she’d handed him her innocence, he gave her the impression of being deeply, even madly, in love with her. But she would never, ever, forgive herself for not seeing through the son-of-a-bitch.

  When he’d popped the question, she’d agreed, happy to keep house for him and keep his bed warm. She’d married a man with an engaging personality, with a pretty face and a crafty tongue. He'd turned out to be a human being who was liar and a thief and liked to use his fists and worse on his wife.

  When he’d lifted his hand to her that first time she’d truly believed she deserved it for disappointing him. By this time he’d chip, chip, chipped away at her confidence, her self-esteem. Instead of love, the icy clutch of dread had taken up residence low in her belly. Of course, he’d made sure not to mark her face or anywhere the bruises might show.

  Throughout it all she’d been employed by Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch, working hard as the personal assistant to top corporate lawyer Daniel Gillespie. The long hours Daniel demanded were rewarded accordingly, while Liam chased after his own interests, which included other women, as he spurned employment. Good job the bastard was dead or she’d have killed him herself for the pain and misery he’d brought to the people she loved more than anything in this world or the next.

  So here she was homeless, moonlighting by singing in a smoky club, dressed like a slut and fighting off over-stimulated members of the opposite sex each and every night.

  Weary to the bone, Gia hoiked up her backpack and shouldered open the side door to the alley. Shivering, her breath smoked in the cold air of a New York February. The sidewalk glistened wet and dank.

  "Hey, babe. How many times have I told you not to use this exit?"

  The deep rumbling voice with the musical tones of the Caribbean made Gia grin up into the big moon face of Jesus Rutherford, doorman and unofficial bodyguard who’d taken her under his wing.

  "I’m taking a taxi, Jesus."

  "You killed them tonight, honey."

  Gia gave a jerky shrug of a thin shoulder, gathering up heavy hair the color of dark copper into a high ponytail. She secured it with a hair tie.

  "It’s not a big deal," she said her voice no more than a whisper.

  Built like a sumo wrestler, Jesus shook his head. A hand the size of a dinner plate reached out and gave a gentle tug of her ponytail.

  "I’ve no idea what sort of trouble you’re in, Gia. But two of Donatti’s goons were asking questions about you yesterday and tonight. Don’t nobody wanna be on that bastard’s radar."

  Unfortunately for Gia she was more than on Enricho Donatti's radar.

  The constant anxiety that had taken up residence in her gut for six long months morphed i
nto a rock of solid ice. It had taken her weeks to find this gig. She wouldn’t be terrorized into moving on again.

  Perhaps the time had come to make a stand?

  Yeah right.

  Who was she kidding?

  Liam had betrayed an organized crime boss for God’s sake, stolen drugs and cash, and they wanted payback.

  She’d sold her house and was paying them every week, but it didn’t matter, they always wanted more. And she knew they wouldn’t be satisfied until she was under their total control. Especially the control of Enricho Donatti, who’d taken one look at her at Liam’s funeral and made it crystal clear he wanted her, all of her.

  Enricho wasn’t the clichéd corpulent Mafia Don either. He looked like a handsome advertisement for one of the Wall Street types with a wide mouth that had a ready smile and a polished manner.

  But it was his eyes that terrified her.

  They were dead, cold, and forcibly reminded her of a reptile she'd once seen at the zoo.

  Under his handsome good looks, she knew the man was a monster.

  Revulsion crawled up Gia’s spine along with a dark despair.

  What was it about her that attracted control freaks? Did she have Please treat me like shit tattooed on her forehead?

  Donatti's text messages, the voicemails, the invites to breakfast, to lunch, to dinner, were becoming more and more insistent. His attentions were a dripping tap of unrelenting harassment.

  The boxed white rose, which arrived every single day, was seriously freaking her out.

  She knew she was becoming desperate now and desperate people did desperate things.

  Appallingly, sly whispers of ending it all had enter her mind.

  If it hadn’t been for her grandparents, and her church, she’d have made the ultimate sacrifice long ago.

  And she knew that if Enricho Donatti laid a manicured finger on her she would do it in a heartbeat even if it meant an eternity burning in a fiery hell.

  Dark eyes glued to her face, Jesus heaved out a sigh when she kept quiet.

  "I’ve organized my brother Jerry to take you home every night. No, don’t argue. Just call it payback for the pleasure you give me listening to the voice of an angel."

  The small act of kindness had Gia blinking rapidly.

  Swimming eyes riveted on her sneakers, she scuffed her toe on the sidewalk.

  "Thanks."

  A yellow cab slid into the alley and a man with his brother’s genetic footprint and even bigger than Jesus hauled himself out of the driver’s door.

  "Yo bro, is this the babe?"

  "Yep. You make sure she gets home in one piece."

  Gia slid into the back of the cab and Jesus closed the door.

  Jerry turned to her with a smile bright enough to be seen from the space station orbiting the earth.

  "Where to?"

  In spite of her worries Gia found she couldn’t help but grin back.

  "GPH Towers."

  Black brows winged up his forehead as he blew out a low whistle.

  "You live in the financial district?"

  Her bland stare had him shrug, nod, and the car swung out of the alley.

  At this time of night the streets were quiet.

  Gia stared unseeing out of the window and wondered how the hell she was going to get out of the big deep hole her late husband had dug for her.

  Chapter Two

  In a reality not far away, The Maker realized human technology was not infallible.

  It appeared his electronic listening devices and camera links to the offices of Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch had been found. He pursed his lips as his hand hovered over the mouse and he brought up his back-up system. It always helped to have a plan B. He linked to the outside CCTV cameras of the GPH building in New York and watched the entrance and exits. If the woman stuck to her usual routine, it wouldn't be long before she arrived at the service entrance.

  He knew she was Daniel Gillespie's PA, Gia Del Russo.

  She was beautiful and if he'd had human emotions he was sure that beauty might trigger a physical reaction between his thighs. He didn't do sex. Too messy. The relief too brief. These days he had better results with torture or driving a creature insane. A demon had to find his fun which ever way he could get it.

  And talking of having fun with the insane, Eleanor Pattullo slid into his communication room, as he liked to call the central hall of his residence. Two of the walls were jammed with flat screens. He'd recently been mulling over the use of holographic displays, but human technology hadn't quite matched his needs. He knew it was only a matter of time before it did. In the meantime, he'd make do. The vampyre moved with care into his line of vision.

  Eleanor wanted something and since he was in a good mood, he might just let her have it.

  "What can I do for you today?" he asked in a cheery voice and noted relief in her dark eyes.

  Her bruises were healing nicely, too.

  "I was wondering what you wanted me to do with the little boys?"

  Ah, yes. He was now the proud owner of six human toddlers.

  Watching twenty-four-hour breaking news as panic had spread not only about the global spread of the Ebola virus, but in New York there was panic about the missing boys, too. It was a whole form of entertainment in itself. The children had cried until he'd shown them the error of their ways and now they sat together in a large cot built for purpose, silent and watchful. Six pairs of eyes never leaving his face. He turned to them now and immediately all eyes fell to the cot comforter. He had to give it to them, young humans learned fast.

  In one of his lightning changes of mind, he decided right then and there, to keep them.

  After all, he'd never had a family of his own.

  Of course, they didn't belong in this reality.

  But maybe, further down the road, they'd come in useful when he sent them back into their human world.

  Hmm.

  Perhaps he'd change them. Mess up their DNA a little. Maybe even give them unique skills, or even powers, that would make them stand-out.

  Now there was an idea.

  He liked it.

  Thrilled with his own genius, he turned to Eleanor.

  The vampyre was starving and she looked it.

  She'd rather die than feed from his hellhounds.

  Her clavicle bones were jutting through the skin on her shoulders.

  She looked weak.

  She looked sick.

  However, although she'd badly let him down, she'd received her punishment without a murmur, even though her mind was fractured, probably beyond repair.

  He'd been careless there and he needed to be careful with her.

  Good and willing help was very hard to find these days.

  "You may feed from them," he said. "Make sure you do not kill one because I have decided to adopt all six as mine. And you will be their mother and teach them everything you know."

  Her dark eyes had gone wide and he didn't miss the way her bottom lip had trembled.

  So, it appeared the vampyre cared for the children?

  Excellent.

  Now he had another way to control her and ensure her loyalty.

  He watched as she slowly made her way to the cot and picked up a child.

  The little boy didn't cry, he simply stared into her eyes as she carried him from the room.

  Today, The Maker decided as he returned to watching the screens, was a good day.

  ***

  As Gia was being driven to her destination, she tried to count her meagre blessings.

  At least she had her job to save her sanity. A job she loved.

  Gillespie, Pattullo & Hindmarch was the most prestigious firm of corporate lawyers in the country. Working as personal assistant to the infamous Daniel Gillespie was a daily challenge as well as a secret joy.

  Gia knew having the hots for her boss was such a damn cliché, but she’d defy any woman with a pulse to work with a man who looked like a God and not feel the little thrill i
n her heart, the fluttering deep in her belly. Daniel was tall with the coloring of his Celtic forbears, jet black hair and sky blue eyes that looked right through to a woman's soul. His face was a thing of beauty, high cheekbones, a strong jaw, with the mouth of a poet. But it was his deep voice with the song of Scotland in it that speared Gia's heart every single time. Add in the body of a top athlete and Daniel Gillespie was quite the package.

  Some might call Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch corporate raiders and Gia could understand the sentiment. In particular, the Gillespie brothers took no prisoners when it came to business or in their personal lives either.

  Recently Marcus, the eldest brother, had closed a billion dollar deal with the Chinese in Shanghai. He’d crushed the heart of every female in the administration department, when he’d married junior business partner Anais Walker.

  Daniel was due back from San Francisco the day after tomorrow and since she was ‘borrowing’ his penthouse apartment at the top of the GPH building, the reality of her situation smacked Gia hard.

  For the past week she’d been careful to ensure the staff and security detail assumed she was working late. If anyone knew she was squatting in the building, she’d be instantly dismissed.

  The thought of what would happen to her grandparents if that happened made Gia’s heart hammer in her throat. The cost of the care home was rising so fast her salary couldn’t keep pace. And her salary was fabulous. No way would she make even a fraction of it anywhere else.

  The taxi slid to a stop outside the service entrance of a vast building constructed of black glass, which speared up into the sky, a huge phallic symbol of sheer male testosterone and corporate power.

  Using a remote control to open the rolling gates, she directed Jerry to the underground car park.

  The car cruised to a halt and the taxi driver turned to her, handing her a business card.

  "My brother wants you to phone us anytime, day or night, and we’ll come for you."