“Isis?” Great Ganesh, please let me be right.
The lovely woman affirmed her identity, then introduced Gillian to all the new fanged friends she’d acquired during her stint as a temporary hostage. Instead of using the planes, the Marines were driving them as far away as they could to avoid any entanglements. The press vans were hot on their trail for a few miles, until a strategically placed roadblock let Gill’s party through, then stopped the news-hounds in their tracks.
Gillian was uncharacteristically snuggled up against Aleksei. He felt warm and safe, and he smelled good. Cardamom and nutmeg, a clean, masculine aroma. She’d missed his scent. Hell, she’d missed him. Her mind turned back to the conversation she’d had with herself on the obelisk. Shit, hell, damn and fuck. She was going to have to have a repeat of that conversation with him sooner or later. He deserved to know how she felt. She could feel the heat rising to her face in anticipation of that little chat.
“Is anything wrong, carissima?” Aleksei’s voice rubbed through her skull like the finest chinchilla.
“No, I’m just glad this is finally over.”
“Then why are you blushing?”
“What? I’m not blushing, you idiot. I’m tired, I’m hungry, I have to pee and I want to go home.” Gill shoved at his ribs, but he didn’t budge.
“Your face is pink, your blood pressure is rising, you do have to . . . ” He stopped before he made an indelicate statement.
“Pee. I have to pee. It’s a normal biological function and we’re all adults; you can say pee, for Crissakes.”
Aleksei scooped her up into his lap and nearly squeezed the life out of her in a hug. He threw back his head and laughed harder than he could ever remember laughing in his life. The entire populace of the Hummer joined him. Even the normally stoic Trocar, who was seated on the other side of Gillian, started to chuckle.
“All of you suck.” Gillian scowled.
“Some of them more than others,” Kimber piped up.
“Shut. Up.”
Once the hilarity had died down, everyone settled in for the ride. The driver, a Human named Corporal Hennessey, assured his passengers that they had arranged for the chopper to meet them farther out, away from the nosy press and any of Vlad’s potential hangers-on.
That suited Gillian just fine. The faster they got out of there, the faster she could get her sense of security back. Suddenly, the bouncing, rocking vehicle began to make its presence known to her stomach. She’d been on battleships, in a submarine, in dozens of types of aircraft and countless motor vehicles. Not once had she ever been seasick or experienced motion sickness. Right now, though, she felt positively ill.
“Pull over!” She gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth.
Hennessey complied immediately, bringing the caravan to a dusty, rapid halt. Gill had the door open and was retching by the side of the Hummer before he had the parking brake on. Seconds later, Kimber was next to her, barfing and gagging.
“What’s wrong with you?” Kimber managed, with heaving breaths.
“What’s wrong with you?” Gill countered. “I’ve had a shitty day and not enough to eat, apparently. The bouncing around in that thing got to me, is all.”
“You can’t barf around me and not have two sick people. You know that,” Kimber groused, leaning against the Hummer and wiping sweat off her forehead.
Daed ran up from the van behind them. “What happened?”
“Where’s Vlad?” Gillian looked past him toward the van.
“Drugged and boxed up. I gave him enough medication to stop a charging T. rex, then locked him in one of those Vampire travel cases. He’ll keep. Now, what’s wrong with you two?”
“Motion sickness.” Gill gasped before heaving again.
That set Kimber off and she too was hurling what was left of her stomach contents onto the hard ground. “Fuck off, Daed. We’ll be fine in a minute.”
They missed Daed’s quizzical look at Aleksei, Trocar and Luis, who was huddled in the backseat with Oscar, Osiris and Isis. “She didn’t eat anything in the Hummer? Neither of them?” Everyone confirmed that all was well until a few moments ago.
“I have to pee. I’ll be right back.” Gillian staggered toward the darkness and out of the glare of the vehicular light sources.
“I’m coming too,” Kimber wheezed, wobbling off after Gillian.
“This isn’t a sorority. I can go by myself!” Gill’s voice carried back to the Hummer in the night.
“I have to go too, you dumbshit!” Kimber yelled back.
“Well, go over there!”
“What if there are cobras and shit over there?”
“What makes you think they won’t be over here too?”
“Because there are two of us; that’s why. It’s a rule: snakes can’t bite you in the ass if there are two of you.”
“Oh, for hell’s sake, Kimber, shut up!”
“Shut up? Don’t tell me to shut up. I’m not going to shut up because snakes and scorpions and shit don’t like noise. I watch the Discovery Channel too, you know. They say to make noise while you’re walking because it will drive the snakes away, and you’re telling me to shut up. What’s wrong with you?”
“I hope you barf on a cobra!” Gill’s stomach took over again and she dry heaved onto the barren ground.
Aleksei wrenched his focus off Gillian for a moment to give her some privacy. Out of the blue it occurred to him that Daed was a doctor. “What is wrong with her . . . them?”
Daed looked up at Aleksei’s icy gray eyes. “It probably is just motion sickness compounded by stress. Gillian was hostage to a psychopath, and Kimber’s her best friend. I’m sure a lot of it is about anxiety. I’ll look over them both when we get back to the Institute to be certain. I’m sure it’s nothing serious.”
“What is wrong with Kimber?” Pavel ran up from one of the other transports.
“Daed says it is motion sickness,” Aleksei told him.
“It’s been a long day for everyone and I know she hasn’t eaten today.” Daed smiled and patted the Wolf’s arm.
When the women came back, they were still arguing amiably, but were arm in arm, supporting each other to the Hummer. “Look, call the helicopter. I am not getting back in the amusement park ride again. My stomach can’t take it,” Gillian ordered Hennessey.
“Yes, ma’am.” He complied and radioed for the chopper.
Soon they were all settled in on the Huey. Daed had had the foresight to order extra shielded shipping crates in case there was a larger rescue of post-Dracula Vampires. Osiris’s and Dionysus’s Vampires were loaded up for the brief trip to Cairo. Osiris had plenty of people to meet them there and escort them safely back to his headquarters. Dionysus would stay in Egypt for a brief visit, then take his crew back to Greece where Maeti awaited him. The Shifters didn’t need shielding, but sat in the back with their respective Lords.
There was a brief argument over what to do with Dracula. It was getting to be very early in the morning. The sun was still hours away, but no one wanted to leave that particular detail unattended. Osiris offered to take him. He thought an infusion of his own blood might bring their former enemy out of his present unresponsive state and might actually heal some of the damage done when his mind overloaded. Once his mind was intact again, they could decide what to do with him.
Gillian wanted to secure him somewhere other than right under the Egyptian Lord’s feet, or, for that matter, under hers. “We have an Interpol agent at the Institute. He’s more than capable of making arrangements for Vlad’s confinement and care.”
“Where would we send him, Schatzi?” Helmut asked her, gently. “In the brief history of our profession, we have never had a Vampire, or any other Paramortal, for that matter, with this type of complete psychotic break. Who will treat him? The foremost experts in the field are us and our staff at Rachlav Institute. We have no place to keep him, no known way to reverse the process. There are no books or reference materials for this.”
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br /> “Helmut’s right, pumpkin. Osiris is probably the best bet for helping him recover,” Daed said.
“Stop calling me that,” Gill snapped at him, then relented. “All right, fine. You win. You’re probably right. There’s nothing I could do to help him the way he is now.”
Aleksei suppressed a sigh of relief. He didn’t want Vlad lodged at the castle, no matter what the circumstances. He understood Gillian’s dedication to her patient and her concern, but was glad when the others made it clear that Vlad’s best hope for recovery was with their most powerful: Osiris. She knew that Osiris would take his responsibility seriously and was honorable enough to trust with her charge.
“If I didn’t believe that Vlad would be in the best possible place, I would not try to talk you into this. Osiris really is his best chance for recovery, based on what we know.” Helmut hugged her with one arm.
“I understand that. I just don’t like feeling as though I’m taking the easy route by letting him go there,” Gill grumbled.
“He needs more help than we can give or know how to give,” Daed assured her again.
“Let’s just go home.”
Daed gave the order and the powerful rotors of the chopper started up. Soon they were airborne, on their way back to the familiar sights, smells and environment they all loved. Daed briefed Gillian on the situation with the newly vocal factions who didn’t approve of her or the Institute. He switched on a laptop, pulled up CNN’s website and played a video of the coverage in Akabat.
A tall, darkly handsome Vampire in a priest’s frock was one of the people interviewed. “Gillian Key has jeopardized all of us with this rash act! She has opened a literal door to the Heavens, yet instead of asking for the redemption of our kind, she bargained for the soul of one man: her lover, Vlad Dracula!
“We cannot let this dereliction of her duty as a psychologist or a soldier stand! We will oppose her and her kind until people listen to reason! Vampires and Humans do not belong together! I am living proof of the seductive power they wield. I have been a tireless crusader against the creatures that made me. I offer absolution to those who will renounce their evil and Face The Sun. Redemption is possible! Retribution is at hand!”
Daed switched the broadcast off. “That is Father Bartholomew Daily. He is someone we will definitely have to contend with at some point in time.”
“Fabulous. Right now I want dinner and a hot bath, and to sleep for several days.” Gillian rubbed her forehead. The headache that had been threatening during the video clip was moving in full force.
“Soon, cara mia.” Aleksei kissed her head and smoothed her hair. “We will be home soon and you shall have whatever you desire.”
“Aleksei, you do know Vlad is just another patient to me, right?”
“I know, piccola. Believe me, I know.”
“Good.” She leaned her head against his hard chest and let him stroke her hair, taking the tension of the headache away.
CHAPTER 12
THE USMC platoon flew back to Romania with them. They were under orders to stay in the vicinity of the Rachlav Institute, so they bivouacked in the village and were having a hell of a time.
Esi, the coffee shop owner, was beside herself making beverages and beignets for the lot and yelling at them to pick up after themselves. She threw more than one dish towel at more than one Marine, and banged more than one head with her coffeepot. Samuel, happy and content at her side, was in seventh heaven helping out his lady love in her shop and fielding friendly ribald comments from the platoon.
All things considered, the soldiers were a respectful, well-behaved group. They had their fun, told their jokes, but were spot on time for their duty watches, and showed the village they were solid professionals who were the best people for the job. After a night or two, Sacele took them into its rhythm and they became part of the extended family.
Gillian was actually happy to have them there. Cezar’s Wolves were on duty, as were the Vampire Watch Group that Teo was in charge of. Aleksei had been impressed that the younger Vampire had kept his word and brought a good-sized group of Rachlav loyal Vampires to Akabat. They’d gotten into an altercation or two, but hadn’t drawn undue attention to themselves even though they’d won the fight. He’d done Aleksei proud. Still, it felt familiar to her, having the mixed bag of USMCs striding around town day and night. It reminded her of her own tour of duty and it felt good.
She had wound up with a crappy sunburn, despite the aloe vera application in Akabat. Daed assured her the nausea, dizziness and general shit-tastic feeling were likely due to dehydration and overexposing her fair complexion to the desert sun for so long.
Since she felt better within two days of returning to Romania and the sunburn faded into a healthy glow, she was inclined to agree with him. Cassiopeia was delighted to have her friend back, and spent time reading and watching over Gillian in a motherly fashion, shooing Aleksei out so Gill could rest.
Kimber, on the other hand, felt lousy. In view of the fact that she hadn’t been a virgin-sacrifice hostage who was out in the sun for hours, Daed chalked it up to her picking up a stomach bug and prescribed bed rest and clear liquids. Pavel delighted in making her homemade chicken soup and spoon-feeding it to her. Kimber gave up arguing with him and let him dote.
Aleksei let Gillian have her time to rest and rejuvenate. He was anxious to have some quiet time alone to talk with her, but she was frazzled about the situation with Father Daily. Her patient Chester was also driving everyone in the castle nuts.
Galahad spent several hours with her, Helmut, Cassiopeia and Daed, catching them up on Chester’s latest activities and outbursts. The four of them put their heads together and came up with what seemed like a workable treatment plan for him, and Daed finished researching a medication regime they all prayed would stabilize his mercurial moods.
Father Daily wasn’t the only vocal dissenter getting face time on television. There were a number of others who had taken up the banner and were parroting back what he had already stated: Gillian had been doing the horizontal mambo with the Devil himself and had missed out on an opportunity to put an end to bloodsuckers forever.
That pissed her off more than anything. Gillian was like most women: Accuse her of something she actually did and she’d deal with it. Lie about her, especially on international television, and you were bound to find out where the expression “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” came from. After a few days of being greeted with Father Daily’s face every time she turned on network news, she’d had enough.
“All right. That’s it. Daed! Get some of your buddies from the BBC out here. I’m doing an interview.” She stomped off to write up some notes. Brownies scampered after her, bringing her a fresh ashtray, tea and their delightful little sandwiches.
“Do you think that is wise?” Aleksei asked their resident psychiatrist/Minotaur.
“You want to try and talk her out of it?” Daed’s raised eyebrows convinced Aleksei that he should really let someone else handle that conversation.
“No . . . I think I will go find something to paint.”
“Gillian is right. You are a smart Vampire.”
Gillian put together a scathing but polite rebuttal that would have made a diplomatic attaché proud. She met the news crew at the front gate. Evidently her reputation for having a low tolerance level for bullshit had preceded her. Instead of sending a second-stringer who might have said the wrong thing and gotten a light meter broken over his head, they sent her Arthur Kent, formerly known as the Scud Stud. He was completely professional and sympathetic to her situation, and he had done his homework. The interview took more than two hours, but he promised to show her the result before it aired later that evening.
True to his word, Arthur had Gillian look over the taping and got her okay to air it. Ten minutes later, they had a special news bulletin go out: “Arthur Kent’s exclusive interview with Dr. Gillian Key. Forgiveness, Faith and Sacrifice, after these messages.”
&nbs
p; He had taken their entire interview and boiled it down to just three specific questions: “Dr. Key, the rumor mill is apparently working overtime with you and your colleagues these days. Is it true that Vlad Dracula is a patient of yours and that you were also lovers?”
“Please, call me Gillian. I cannot confirm or deny anyone as being my patient or not. To do so would be a breach of confidentiality and privacy. I also will not comment on my personal life for the same reason. Next question.”
“Very well, Gillian . . . Is it true that you accompanied Vlad Dracula to Akabat in hopes of making contact with . . . Angels?”
“That part is partially true. He had an idea that he had extensively researched and wanted to try an experiment. As you gathered, it was successful. However, the Beings were not actually Angels but rather Nephilim. They gave us specific information, which I’m certain you or one of your colleagues caught on tape.
“He was after the same information Father Daily claims to know. As you can tell, if you review that unedited tape sequence, you will hear straight from the horse’s mouth, as it were, that Father Daily has it completely wrong. We are all responsible for our own forgiveness. We are all called upon to be merciful to each other. I think that speaks to every race or type of Being on the planet. If we’re going to coexist, we have to learn to work together.”
“Do you really believe that Humans and Vampires can coexist without serious problems?”
“I do, Arthur, for two reasons. First, the highest courts of our world and the Paramortals’ world all agreed that we are all sentient and equal Beings. The Paramortals have always been among us, they were simply never treated as people with real feelings, needs or desires before. The Compact changed that; the Osiris Doctrine took it a few steps further and laid out some specific expected behaviors and repercussions.
“There will always be pot stirrers on both sides of the fence. These sorts of people live for the attention they receive. It’s much like a schoolyard bully. They can’t get along with people in a normal manner, so they act out and get the attention they’re craving. It’s just not always the right kind of attention. The world will always have Father Dailys and those like him, Arthur. I simply thank the Gods that there will also be Vampire Lords like Aleksei Rachlav, Osiris, Dionysus and Odin; Elves such as Prince Mirrin and his Kin; Lycanthropes like Cezar and his pack; representatives of the Fey like Lord Dalton and Lord Finian; and the Brownies . . . in fact, all the Courts of the Fey, all of whom absolutely disprove those arguments simply by being the honorable Beings they are.”
Key to Justice Page 16
