Duncan

by D. B. Reynolds

  The thought of her banked the hunger of his power. It withdrew, curling deep inside, waiting. He had to remain calm. He needed information. Where was Emma? Had she been here when the fire hit? Was she lying injured, dying, while the humans fought the blaze, not knowing she was inside? He let his mind roam free, his thoughts searching outward. His vampires slept all around him, some already beginning to gain awareness, others too young to wake while the sun still hung in the sky.

  He searched farther, beyond the confines of the dreary basement beneath the east wing, where he and his vampires had slept since moving into this unsuitable, old house. He found nothing but fire. Its heat surrounded them, greedy flames eating up the timbers like a ravening beast, drawing ever closer, threatening the primitive sleeping quarters Alaric had thrown together as a temporary measure. There were humans all around. Duncan could feel their presence too, far too many for just his daytime security. Their emotions—fear, excitement, curiosity—bombarded him, making it difficult to weed out any one person, to determine how bad it was. A strong mind flashed through his awareness and he grabbed onto it. This one was energized, rather than excited, and determined. A man of some authority, although it was impossible to say whether he was one of the firefighters or a policeman, or maybe even a powerful neighbor watching from the street. Whichever it was, Duncan slipped his own consciousness into the human’s brain, weaving the two seamlessly until he could look up and see—

  His heart nearly stopped when he saw the damage to the house, the fire still raging around what must have been the focal point of an explosion—his bedroom, the bedroom where Emma slept. His power roared back and it had only one goal.

  “Emma!”

  * * * *

  “Duncan?” Emma whispered. She whipped her head in the direction of the house.

  “What is it?” Hissong asked intently.

  “I don’t know. I thought I heard—”

  “What?”

  “Duncan’s voice . . . in my head. He called my name. It doesn’t make any sense, but—”

  “It makes perfect sense. Where did the voice seem to come from?”

  “Be quiet!” she snapped, and then more quietly, “I’m sorry. Let me concentrate.” Emma felt foolish. Duncan had told her he couldn’t read her thoughts, but he’d also said that the more they exchanged blood, the closer their minds would come. And Emma liked to bite. She’d taken a little of his blood every time they made love. Was it possible?

  “Duncan?” she whispered in her mind, and then she shouted, “DUNCAN!”

  “Emmaline,” his voice came back to her, warm with feeling and as strong as if he were standing next to her. But then it faded, and Emma doubted for a moment that she’d heard anything at all. Until she felt a surge of emotion that tasted like Duncan. It surrounded her—calm and strong, just like he was. Emma closed her eyes against a wave of relief, leaning against the open door for support.

  “Well?” Hissong demanded.

  “He’s alive. They’re all alive, I think.”

  “Fuck me,” Hissong swore. “We’ve got to—” He looked up, eyes narrowing as he stared in the direction of the house. Emma stepped far enough out of the doorway to see what had drawn his attention, her heart leaping at the possibility. But it was only a group of unfamiliar men storming across the backyard and heading directly for the three of them in the shelter of the garage.

  “You,” the first man called. “Hissong, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jackson said, stepping out into the yard. “Alaric?” he said, clearly recognizing the man.

  Emma blinked as the vampire contractor she’d seen around the house strode closer. They’d never been introduced, but she’d heard Duncan on the phone with him.

  “Where’s Duncan?” Alaric demanded.

  “That’s my question for you,” Jackson replied. “They’re alive in there somewhere, but I don’t know where—”

  “Basement of the east wing, but nothing’s finished, and I got a good look at that blaze on the way here. The main section’s fully engulfed, and the whole place is gonna burn.” He swore viciously and stared into the distance, thinking. “All right. Best we can do is try to make it easier for Duncan. Come on, lads,” he called and started across the backyard. “You, too, Hissong, and anyone else you can spare. We’ve got some digging to do.”

  * * * *

  The sun finally surrendered, dropping below the horizon and freeing Duncan to act. He opened his eyes and immediately woke his vampires with a blast of power, pulling even the youngest of them out of sleep and into complete wakefulness. The fire was all around them, the main part of the house completely impassable, but even the east wing above their heads was burning now, the ancient timbers growing hotter by the minute. With a loud crack, a piece of the ceiling gave way and a tongue of flame dipped hungrily into the basement. Duncan swore as one of his vampires cried out.

  “Everyone to me,” he shouted, putting enough power into the words to make it a command. The room was abruptly hotter, as if that small break in the ceiling brought the full heat of the blaze along with it. He was drenched in sweat, his hair, his clothes, and as he looked around, he could see all of his vampires were in the same condition. They gathered around him, their emotions a battering ram of fear and tension pounding at the wall of his control. They were looking to him to save them, to come up with a plan to get them out of here in one piece.

  “Miguel?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Miguel said, appearing at his side.

  “We’re taking the tunnel.”

  “Sire? It’s not finished yet. There’s nothing there but—”

  “Trust me, Miguel. Let’s go.”

  “Yes, my—” The rest of Miguel’s words were buried under the crash of burning timbers as the entire floor above them gave way.

  “Now!” His power thundered forth, holding the collapsing floor at bay while his vampires ran for the tunnel. He glanced after them long enough to be certain everyone was safe, his power casting the bronze glow of his eyes into the shadows to rival the flames themselves.

  Once the last of his people was safely past, he released the burning timbers, using his vampire speed to escape as the first floor crashed into the basement. Following his vampires, Duncan sped for the minimal safety of Alaric’s unfinished vault. It was a new construction, concealed beneath the backyard and reached via a tunnel from the residence. If completed, there would have been a reinforced door connected to the basement of the east wing, and another equally secure door to the vault itself. It would have been expansive, with enough room for every vampire to have his or her own small chamber.

  But that had all been for the future. Alaric had finished the tunnel and the concrete enclosure for the vault, but it was still just a big box in the ground. And with the east wing burning and the electricity off, it was a big box with no exit and no air.

  Duncan led his people toward the tunnel entrance, their way lit by the blaze itself. He dodged aside as another section of floor gave way, the fire licking toward them eagerly, the smoke choking and black. He stopped beneath the break, using a second push of power to blow the flames back as his vampires hustled forward. Miguel led them, but Louis stood with Duncan and willingly offered his power to augment that of his Sire. Duncan rested a hand on the shorter vampire’s shoulder.

  “In good time, Louis. This isn’t over yet.”

  Louis nodded, his eyes on the vamps filing by, until everyone was past and he and Duncan took up the rear. Up ahead, the first of his vampires reached the reinforced hole in the wall where the tunnel entrance would have been. It already bore the heavy framework of support for the planned vault-style door. The relief of his vampires was a fresh breeze in his mind as they crossed into the relative safety of the tunnel.

  It was dark inside, and cold. They were ten feet underground and Duncan could feel the damp earth in his bones as surely as if it were pressing into his pores instead of held back by two solid feet of concrete. Alaric had insisted on the
extra thickness of the walls, reminding Duncan that Washington, D.C. was built on a swamp and that meant seeping water everywhere. But right now that extra thickness was one more barrier between his vampires and safety.

  * * * *

  Emma watched blankly as Alaric and his vampires began digging. She didn’t know exactly why they were digging, except that Alaric had told her it would help Duncan and his vamps get out of the burning house. She’d frowned at his explanation, but was willing to do whatever it took to save Duncan, so she’d offered to help dig. Alaric had laughed and assured her his people could do it far faster. Casting about for something to do besides stare helplessly, she’d found a supply of bottled water in the garage and hauled it out to the yard. Everyone seemed to appreciate that, even the vampires, but there was only so much water one could drink. So, now she was back to watching and waiting.

  Fire Captain Stavros came around eventually, stared at the diggers, then marched over to Emma.

  “What the hell are those men doing?” he demanded.

  Emma drew herself up and said confidently, “They’re digging a rescue tunnel.”

  “A rescue—” Stavros glared at her, then as if a light had gone on over his head, his expression cleared and he said, “Vampires.”

  Emma nodded. “Yes.” And then swore to herself privately because Stavros had figured it out before she did. Obviously, Duncan and his vampires slept somewhere in the basement, not on the second floor as she’d assumed. And it was equally obvious that there had to be some sort of underground escape hatch. She didn’t find this sudden epiphany very reassuring, however, since it wasn’t much of an escape hatch if it counted on someone digging from up above. It was like drilling a rescue hole to trapped miners. They could be anywhere, and how did you know whether the rescue hole was going to be in the same place where the miners were?

  Not knowing what else to say, she handed Stavros a bottle of water, then froze when Alaric shouted and everyone stopped digging. Emma stared from one of them to another, as they grabbed their equipment and began hurriedly pulling back.

  “What’s going on?” she asked Alaric when he strode over to the garage and began urging her inside the structure. He didn’t answer, just stepped in front of her, blocking her body as a shock wave of air roared across the yard and the earth exploded.

  * * * *

  Duncan forced himself to wait until all of his people were gathered in what would have been the vault. He could hear digging from above, probably Alaric’s people. They’d been staying very nearby, and the old vampire would know Duncan’s most likely escape route. Duncan was also aware of Emma, and knew she was very close. The thought of Emma, of what could have happened if she’d been asleep upstairs, finally cracked his patience.

  “Stand back.” He sent the warning to all of the vampires up above, but his own people heard it and knew what it meant. They straightened eagerly, as anxious as he was to escape their erstwhile prison. The digging stopped, and Duncan gathered his power into a single, concentrated blow, as if his fist were made of iron and the wall nothing but sand. He shot his arm forward, the gesture no more than a physical manifestation of the powerful force which slammed into the concrete wall, cracked it like an egg and exploded outward through nearly ten feet of solid earth.

  There were cheers all around, from the people outside, both human and vampire, and from his own vampires as fresh night air flooded the tunnel. A hand reached down through the muddy hole and Duncan grabbed it. He heard Alaric’s roar of greeting before he’d gone two steps and looked up to see the wiry vampire bearing down on him with a grin.

  “Duncan,” Alaric shouted. “About damn time, my lord!”

  They embraced, slapping backs.

  “Your woman’s a tough little lady,” Alaric growled against his ear. “Handled them human honchos like she was a four star general and them buck privates,” he added, chuckling.

  Duncan looked over Alaric’s shoulder, his gaze finding Emma in the deep shadows beneath a drooping tree on the other side of the yard. She stood motionless, staring at him, her hands clasped against her mouth. He slapped Alaric’s shoulder and stepped aside, starting toward her. She watched him come, her violet eyes dark, a suspicious sheen telling him she’d been crying. Her heartbeat raced faster with every step he took. When he drew close enough, her hands fell away from her face and she ran forward, his name on her lips as she threw herself into his arms.

  “Duncan,” she cried, then sucked back a sobbing breath.

  “Emmaline,” he whispered against her ear, burying his face in the warm silk of her hair, filling his arms with her softness, and drowning himself in the scent and touch of her.

  “I was afraid—” she started, but he shushed her, covering her mouth with his lips and drinking her in, feeling her arms tighten against his neck as the kiss deepened, as their tongues met, twisting around each other hungrily. Duncan broke off the kiss reluctantly, aware of his vampires and everyone else watching them.

  “I love you, Emmaline,” he whispered. “I’ll show you how much as soon as I find us some privacy.”

  “Oh,” Emma breathed, her cheeks flushing and eyes growing wide, as if aware of the onlookers for the first time.

  Duncan laughed gently. “It was just a kiss,” he murmured, touching his mouth to hers quickly.

  “Not just a kiss,” Emma corrected him. “One hell of a kiss.”

  Duncan laughed loudly, tugging her against his chest for a hard hug, before taking her hand and turning to face the others. “Jackson,” he said, searching the faces.

  “Yes, my lord.” Jackson Hissong stepped out from where he was conferring with Miguel and Louis.

  “What do we know?”

  Jackson came closer and said quietly, “We’ve a man in custody, my lord. But perhaps we should take this conversation to the other house. Some of what needs to be said—”

  “Of course,” Duncan said immediately. “And we could all use a shower and some nutrition, as well. What about the daytime guards?”

  “With your permission, my lord, I’ll have them remain on duty to secure the site until your vampires can relieve them.”

  Duncan exchanged a look with Miguel who said, “The traitor has been secured. Jackson does not believe the rest of his men were involved, although we’ll check each of them before they leave to be sure.”

  Duncan nodded. “Very well. Emma and I will go ahead to the other house, and we’ll convene there once everyone’s had a chance to clean up. I’ll want the prisoner made available to me.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Miguel said, then turned away to begin organizing the guard rotation and departure.

  Duncan dropped an arm over Emma’s shoulder and began walking toward the ten foot wall which shielded the property from a path along the river. Emma sucked in a surprised breath when he opened a small control box and entered a code on the keypad concealed there. With a soft whir of noise, a hidden gate popped out of the smooth wall.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, puzzled.

  “A moonlight stroll along the river,” Duncan teased.

  “Very romantic,” she murmured, leaning against his side. “But I’d rather have a hot shower.”

  Duncan laughed. “Will you share?”

  “Only if you tell me where we’re going.”

  “As Jackson said, to the other house.”

  “I didn’t know there was another house!”

  “I’m a vampire lord, Emma. There’s always another house.”

  * * * *

  Emma let her head fall back as the blessedly hot water streamed through her hair, washing away shampoo along with hours of sweat and soot. She straightened and finger-combed some conditioner in, then reached back and pulled the bulk of her wet hair over one shoulder, letting the water pound the stress from her back. Sighing with pleasure, she grabbed a bar of soap and rubbed it between her hands, generating a thick lather that had only a faint clean scent. No flowery soaps for Duncan, apparently, which was fine
with her. She lifted her soapy hands to her face and began to wash gently, trying not to think about what the bar soap was doing to her skin. One night wouldn’t kill her, and besides the oily residue of black soot left behind by the smoke and fire probably needed something stronger than her usual facial cleanser. She’d moisturize extra tomorrow to make up for it, once she could get to her own things. That thought made her pause. The things she’d left at Duncan’s were gone, although, thank God, she’d had her laptop with her. Everything else was easily replaceable. Besides, Duncan had survived and that’s all that mattered.

  And speak of the devil . . . She caught a blurred shadow of movement before the shower door opened and the vampire himself stepped inside. Emma ran an admiring eye up and down his naked body. The mud and dirt which had made her look like a refugee only made him look more masculine, more dangerous. He bumped her carefully with his hip, one arm snaking out to circle her waist as he pushed her out of the flow of hot water.

  “Water hog,” she complained halfheartedly.

  “Says the woman who’s all shiny clean,” he commented, then backed up a step, pulling her under the spray with him. Emma sputtered briefly before burying her face against his chest.

  “You’re getting me dirty,” she muttered, but she wrapped her arms around his narrow waist, running her hands over the firm muscles of his back. He was like a work of art, every muscle perfectly defined and flowing elegantly over tendons and bones.

  Duncan tipped his head back into the spray as she’d done earlier, letting the water run through his long, blond hair. She reached behind him and grabbed the shampoo. He was too tall for her to wash his hair comfortably, so she settled for squirting a fair amount of the gel on his wet hair, then standing back to admire the play of muscles in his arms and shoulders as he scrubbed the mud away.

  “God, this feels good,” he said, rinsing his hair clean.

  “Being clean?” Emma asked.

  “No.” He opened his eyes and gave her a slow smile. “Being naked with you.” His hands came down to grip her hips, and he backed her against the tile wall. “Having my hands on you.” His hands dropped to her butt and he lifted her effortlessly, pressing forward until her legs wrapped around his narrow hips. She could feel his erection, hard and heavy against her thigh, as he rubbed against her gently, teasing her.