Dead Hearts (Book 3): Vengeful Hearts

by Susanne L. Lambdin

  “Thank you,” Cadence said.

  “You’re wearing Sir Richard’s necklace. His brothers each have matching necklaces,” Mrs. Fulbright said. “Of course we never speak about Sir William. He died a few months ago, and Sir Thomas has never recovered from his loss. Poor man. It was bad enough when Sir Richard left in such haste, giving no explanation. It broke poor Thomas’s heart. I’ve been in the service of the Mallory family my entire life. First to their father, and then his three boys. This castle is cursed, my lady. You must not stay long. No, you must leave as soon as possible, or you will suffer the same fate as so many others.”

  Mrs. Fulbright escorted Cadence through a corridor and a draped doorway. They entered a spacious hall with a vaulted ceiling and a blazing fireplace. Tapestries hung from the stone walls, and weapons displays and suits of armor stood in the corners of the room. Two hairy hounds lay before the fireplace, gnawing on bones, while servants cleared plates from the tables. A young maid in a dirty frock tossed fresh straw onto the ground, glancing shyly at Cadence. Mrs. Fulbright approached Sir Thomas, who was standing with Lachlan near the fireplace.

  “You look magnificent,” Lachlan said, bowing low. “My eyes have never beheld such a vision, my lady. Green suits you. So does this castle. When I picture us together, I always think of being in Ireland at the McNeill’s castle. Shame we don’t have time to visit my ancestors.”

  It was so much like a dream that Cadence expected to wake up back in her bed at NORAD at any moment. The main hall was a scene straight from a movie, and the smell of rotting hay, dirty dogs, and unwashed bodies was hard to duplicate. It was real. Lachlan slid his arm around her, holding her close. His embrace was real, too. Cadence wanted to tell Lachlan everything she kept locked inside. One look into his hazel eyes told her he felt the same.

  “I don’t think I can stand this close to you,” Cadence said, feeling a rush of heat. “Yes, you can,” Lachlan said. “Let me enjoy the moment a bit longer, Cadence Sinclair. It may not come again, and I will remember you like this, always.”

  Sir Thomas came over to join them, holding a goblet of wine. Mrs. Fulbright was fluttering about nearby, ordering the servants here and there. A young man in a yellow tunic approached and placed a tray with a pitcher of wine and two goblets on the table. Lachlan filled both glasses and handed one to Cadence.

  “This is the first time I’ve dared feel any hope for our future,” Sir Thomas said. “God works in mysterious ways.” He tapped his goblet against theirs.

  Realizing how thirsty she was, Cadence took a gulp of red wine. It wasn’t the taste she’d expected, and she tried not to gag. The wine was unfermented and tasted more of the vinegar than grapes. She set her glass down and took a seat on the long bench. Lachlan either pretended to be drinking or was actually able to keep it down. Servants arrived and placed a large gold tray containing fresh baked bread, butter, several cheeses, and a roasted suckling pig on the table before them.

  Sir Thomas provided Cadence with Richard’s dagger. Slicing into a block of cheese, she took a bite and discovered it was surprisingly tasty goat cheese. Lachlan joined her on the bench; he carved slices of meat and filled her plate. He grinned when she ate with her fingers and washed it down with the bitter wine.

  A commotion caused Cadence to turn toward the fireplace. Lord Montagu entered through a side door, draped in a long blue robe trimmed with white fur, assisted by two attendants wearing matching yellow tunics. The elder noble was not in the best of health and walked with a limp. Once seated, an attendant covered his lord with a blanket and positioned his feet upon a stool. A dog trotted over, circled at the feet of Montagu, and sniffed his shoes.

  Sir Thomas set his goblet on the table and approached Lord Montagu, bending to whisper in his ear. The old man craned his neck to peer at Cadence.

  “Come here, girl,” Lord Montagu said in a feeble voice. “Sir Thomas and Sir Lachlan can talk death and doom over wine while we have a nice, long chat.” He cackled as Cadence approached and kicked over a footstool. “Be seated, young lady, as I would have words with you.”

  Seeing another chair in front of the fire, Cadence ignored the dirty footstool and sat across from Lord Montagu. He looked to be well over ninety years of age, which did not seem possible for anyone living in the Middle Ages.

  “William the Bastard bestowed this castle to my family for services rendered. We have held it ever since.”

  Lord Montagu broke into a wracking cough, gripping the sides of his chair, and quivered head to toe. The attendant hurried to fuss over the old man.

  “Are you my wife?” Montagu asked the attendant, irritated. “Enough of this, Percival. I am not dying. Not yet, in any case. Go fetch us wine. Bring the good stuff.”

  “I’m not sure that wine is what you need, my lord. Perhaps mead would be better, with a dash of honey, for your cough?” asked Percival. A servant in his twenties, he was gaunt and pale, with yellow hair and rather large ears. The second attendant had a less favorable appearance, and he stood at the side door, staring at Cadence.

  “We shall both have wine, not honeyed mead,” Lord Montagu said, wrinkling his face in disgust. “Why are you standing there, Percy? Why is a goblet of wine not in my hand? Make haste, you bag-of-bones, before I toss you outside the castle walls!”

  Percival sent the second manservant dashing off to do his lord’s bidding and remained at Montagu’s side. He stared at Cadence with obvious dislike.

  “Sir Thomas tells me your coach fell into disrepair,” the old man croaked. “Yet, Lord Darkmoore is at the gates. I can’t understand how two little girls could get through enemy lines to seek sanctuary in my castle. Oh, I have ears, lady. I know a little more than you, and that is saying quite a lot. Tell me, girl, what do you know of the creatures stalking this place? Are they vampires? Werewolves? Demons? The priests argue that all come from Hell, for those simple minds see anything unexplainable to be demonic in origin.” He had a look in his eyes that made Cadence feel like he was hiding something from her. “But we understand differently. You are here because of the Spear of Destiny, aren’t you?”

  Montagu had ruled his castle for decades, and Cadence imagined he had not always been meek or mild, nor had he tolerated uninvited guests bearing strange stories. Someone had been spying on them and had advised the old man. Lying now seemed foolish.

  “We are here to help you,” Cadence said. “We come as friends.”

  “Yes, that is what I thought.” Montagu’s dark eyes locked with her own. “The priests won’t approve of you being here. They are from Rome, and I do not trust Romans, though I shall not send them away either. If you are here to help us, then you and your friends will leave in the morning to find Lord Darkmoore and kill him. In the Roman outpost you will find the spear that you seek. I cannot say what power the Spear of Destiny holds, but it must be great or Lord Darkmoore would not protect it. I want it.” A sly smile appeared on his wrinkled face. “If you refuse, then you will all be burned at the stake for witchcraft while Sir Lachlan and his squire watch, and then they will die as well.”

  “Oh, we’ll go,” Cadence said. “That’s why we’re here, my lord.”

  Later, inside Lachlan’s quarter’s, Cadence kicked off her slippers, not at all pleased with Lord Montagu or his threat. She managed to escape her dress, and tossed it aside before diving under the animal pelts covering Lachlan’s bed. Blaze and Whisper were across the hall. She imagined they had a similar fire that provided light but little warmth. Lachlan tossed a few logs on the fire and waited until they caught fire before turning toward the bed.

  “I’m not looking forward to tomorrow,” Cadence said. “So much depends on us finding the spear and getting back home. I believe it’s the only weapon that can kill the Kaiser.”

  “Destiny. We were all meant to be here, and you are meant to be with me this night. I’ve waited a long time for this moment.”

  The firelight gave Lachlan’s red hair a copper sheen, revealing no blemishes on
his muscular body. Cadence’s heart sped up as a whimsical smile spread across his handsome face. He climbed into bed beside her and pulled her into his embrace, showing no fear of her toxicity to vampires with a deep, passionate kiss. As the logs crackled and sparked, Cadence clung to Lachlan. Lord Darkmoore, burning witches, and the sacred Roman spear slipped from her thoughts.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  Logan watched from his bedroom window as a line of vehicles drove away. He counted over forty human bounty hunters in the trucks. The men all carried big guns, chewed tobacco, and looked geared up for a hunting excursion. “Rednecks from hell,” Logan mumbled.

  Bechtel had warned Logan the Kaiser had hired humans to track Cadence, and had reminded Logan it was Friday night. The Kaiser would announce his engagement at dinner later that night, and the explosives had to be rigged to detonate at midnight.

  “Bye-bye, you sons-of-bitches,” Logan growled.

  Taking a handful of snow from the windowsill, he iced his glass of scotch. Logan felt like a waiter, as his white tuxedo and tie framed his black shirt, although tonight he would take no orders. He sipped his scotch and thought about how Leopold had thanked him for causing the ‘breakthrough’ in their research. Logan set his drink aside and straightened his tux, whistling Grandma Got Run Over by A Reindeer as he strolled into the dining hall. He was late.

  Already seated, the vampires paid no attention when Logan slipped into his chair at the head table. A floorshow imported from Italy was in progress. Circus performers pranced around the room in colorful costumes. Jugglers, sword-swallowers, fire-eaters, and Tarot fortune-tellers spun their hypnotic brands of magic and entertainment. The Kaiser sat on his throne with Raven beside him. Salustra sat with them, while Dragon stood behind her, not as a fighter, but as a servant instead.

  Star was not present; Logan had heard the rumors as to why that was.

  He expected a speech from the Kaiser, but figured he had missed it when the first course was served. Logan glanced at his bowl of soup and stirred, unsure if it was blood or tomato. To his surprise a piece of paper floated to the surface. A message written in black ink read, Limo outside.

  Logan scooped the paper onto his spoon and swallowed it. He glanced at Bechtel, but the new captain showed no response. Like Salustra, Bechtel refused to look at him. The paper stuck in Logan’s throat and he gagged. He chugged a glass of water as a firm hand pounded him on the back.

  “Thanks,” Logan said, seeing it was Bechtel. “It’s tomato soup. Glad you didn’t switch bowls on me.”

  “Why would I do that?” asked Bechtel. His black eyes were emotionless. “I am now Captain of the Shadowguard. Pallaton failed to capture Highbrow. You should congratulate me, Agent Logan. Much has changed since we last talked.”

  “Duly noted,” Logan said, resting his spoon. “Guess that means you’re taking this promotion seriously. I have a new bodyguard.”

  “So I heard,” Bechtel said.

  Logan wanted to stab the vampire in the ear with his spoon. Bechtel was not the same Dark Angel, and Logan had a feeling the new captain intended to cause problems. He wondered about the timed bomb in the lab and whether Bechtel had discovered it. The vampire was wearing a new diamond ring. On closer inspection, a tiny red flame danced in its center.

  Logan was more than a little disappointed. His gut told him he had lost another friend and gained a new enemy. He leaned back, pretended to enjoy the entertainment, and waited for a reaction from the vampire. Instead, Bechtel turned and smiled as Dr. Leopold made a surprise entrance. The tall, bald freak wore his lab coat, complete with green gloves. He hurried to the Kaiser’s side and whispered in his ear.

  Leopold’s appearance caused a stir among the guests. The doctor never left his lab, nor did the Kaiser ever leave a party. Bechtel grew interested when the Kaiser sprang from his seat, kissed Raven’s hand, and exited with the doctor. Logan stiffened as the dark shadow glided away from the Kaiser’s chair and followed.

  “I wonder what that was about,” Logan said, scrutinizing Bechtel’s reaction. The captain acted worried. “Shouldn’t you check it out?”

  “Yes, I should,” Bechtel said, eyes glued to the door. He followed the Kaiser and the doctor out.

  Logan felt the corners of his mouth turn upward. The one thing he did well was read people. There was no doubt in his mind that Bechtel had switched sides in the war.

  A servant cleared his bowl and used silverware. Logan refused wine, fearing it might be drugged. Three more courses were served exclusively for the vampires. Several performers swaggered over and stood before Logan. A juggler dressed as a Harlequin and two tumblers in bat costumes danced in front of him. One of the bats was familiar, causing Logan to lean in for a closer look. It was a boy in his teens.

  “Enjoying yourself?” asked the bat. He gripped the table and flipped into a headstand. The crowd applauded. He spun around, now facing Logan. “I wouldn’t drink anything they serve you. It’s drugged.”

  “I gathered that.”

  The bat winked, somersaulted off the table, and grabbed the bat girl’s hand. The two danced between the tables, spinning and twisting the audience into a frenzy.

  Three minutes later, the building shook. A low rumble resounded through the walls. Fire alarms began to blare as sprinklers inside the dining hall came to life. Screams and shouts followed as vampires knocked over glasses and chairs, and one another, in their haste to leave. In the confusion, Logan left the dining room through the main doors and slipped toward the front entrance. It was too easy.

  On his way out, someone placed a trench coat around Logan’s shoulders and a supportive arm around his waist. Rushed outside into the blizzard, snow and wind stung his eyes. The ground was treacherous, and Logan would have fallen if his helper’s arm had not kept him on his feet. Logan was tossed into the backseat of a limousine parked at the corner. A group of people dove inside with him, slamming the doors and sealing them inside the warm cab.

  “Good evening.”

  Dragon’s voice startled Logan. The two dressed up like bats from the party pulled their masks off and gave Logan a smug look. He recognized them both. Dodger and Xena.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Logan said, his mouth hanging open. “And you! Weren’t you Cinder’s prisoner?” he asked the limo driver.

  “Someone let me out,” Rafe said, catching Logan’s eyes in the rearview. “Found car keys on the carpet, went outside, and found this limo waiting for me. There was a note on the dashboard with instructions to be at the Kaiser’s mansion at precisely 12:05 a.m. It was signed by Rose, so I did as she asked. It appears she brought you on board as well.”

  “No thanks to Bechtel,” Logan said. “He was promoted to captain over Pallaton, but I can’t say whether he helped pull off our escape or not. He didn’t act too friendly tonight. Then again, my bomb did go boom. Someone has to be blamed.” The heater clicked on and warm air blew. “Much better. Thank you, Rafe.”

  “You’re freezing,” Xena said, handing Logan a blanket. “Get out of your tux and wrap up, scavenger. We’re going to Cadence’s camp, and Rose is meeting us there. She’ll be ticked if you come down with the flu.”

  Dodger leaned forward and shook Dragon’s hand. From the folds of his cloak, the younger Chameleon produced Dragon’s two famous swords, Hèbi and Lóng. “Salustra handed them to me on the way out. She said Pallaton arranged for our escape. Bechtel isn’t a Dark Angel. He’s the Kaiser’s spy.”

  Xena nodded. “They did find your bomb, but Pallaton had a backup plan. Barbarella snuck a bomb into the lab. Thanks for freeing her, Logan. You put your neck on the line to help us.”

  “Damn!” Logan said, feeling better now that he was dry. “Then you all know bounty hunters were sent to look for Cadence. Watch the road, Rafe. The bounty hunters headed out right before the party started, and there will be spotters on the main roads.”

  “They’ll go straight to Seven Falls,” Dragon said, in a throaty v
oice. “Pallaton went to warn Highbrow. We’re going to Cadence’s camp. She’s missing, along with Blaze, Whisper, and Lachlan. We need your help again, Agent Logan.”

  Logan stared out the window as Rafe turned off the highway and onto a mountain road. A short drive brought them through the whirling snow to NORAD. The car drove past the gate and into a long, well-lit tunnel. A small group of people holding flashlights stood at the end. As they drew closer, Logan recognized Tandor, Thor, Star, Freeborn, Smack, and Lotus.

  Dragon was first out of the limo and ran straight to the group. Everyone hugged him, asking questions all at once. When he saw Freeborn, Dragon slid his embrace around her with a kiss. Smack pushed through everyone and jumped into Dodger’s arms. He caught the freckle- faced girl and spun her around, laughing.

  “It’s not a lynch mob,” Rafe said, standing by Logan’s door. “Get out and face the music. They don’t like me any more than they like you.”

  Logan climbed out of the vehicle. Rafe stepped back as someone spun Logan around and punched him in the face. Logan sprawled backward against the car, holding his face.

  “Hello, Thor,” Logan murmured.

  The blonde Chameleon cracked his knuckles. “I heard you were coming, and I wanted to be the first to greet you. That was for setting my team up at Midnight Falls. Two Vikings died because of you, and Raven remains a prisoner. Why the hell didn’t you bring her with you?”

  “I’m lucky to have made it out. Raven isn’t the same girl you remember. She’s the Kaiser’s mistress, pal. I didn’t think it a good idea to drag her along with us when she’ll just run back to him. And I couldn’t free your other friends, but I do know Raven purchased Loki, Monkey, and Skye. They’re back from Italy as well.”

  “Why didn’t the Dark Angels free them, too?” Thor asked.

  Logan shrugged. “Why don’t you ask them?”