Roman rolled his eyes and turned toward the door. Then he spun back to face Garrett. “Just one last thing.” He buried his fist into Garrett’s stomach, hard and fast and deep. Garrett, with no time to brace himself, folded over Roman’s arm with a hard exhalation of air and pain.
Roman gripped his hair and pulled his head up, so he was forced to look him in the eyes. “That’s for kissing Kate,” he said. “Don’t do it again.” He dropped his head and left the trailer, not looking back.
Nial hauled on Garrett’s arm, the one that wasn’t held across his abdomen, and pushed him back onto the sofa. “Winter?”
She stepped up to the sofa, but Garrett waved her away. “No, leave me be. I deserved it. And I’m already recovering just fine.” He straightened up as his muscles stopped spasming and the pain eased off.
“I’m going to find out more about this journalist that Sebastian is holding,” Nial said. “Can Patrick stay with you for a while? I don’t think he should be with me for this.”
“I’m going to be part of your world soon enough,” Patrick pointed out calmly.
Nial nodded. “And you’re going to be sitting in front of millions of viewers swearing that vampires are gentle souls, with no more capacity for ruthlessness and violence than humans. I want you to be as honest as the day is long when you say it.”
“By hiding your true nature from me?” Patrick objected as Nial headed for the door.
Nial’s smile was thin as he paused with his hand on the handle. “Where, exactly, do you think our natures derive from, boy? We’re human, first and foremost.” He slipped out through the door and shut it, letting in only a minimal amount of sand and wind.
Patrick sat in the chair that Roman had been sitting in. “He called me ‘boy’.”
“To him, you are,” Garrett said. “Especially when you come out with innocent crap like that.”
“Crap?”
“You’ve led a pretty sheltered life, Patrick. He wasn’t hiding the truth about vampires from you. He was keeping the extremities of humankind from hitting you too hard. You’re already on a steep learning curve.”
“Sheltered,” Patrick repeated. He considered that for a while. “I suppose, given your centuries of actually living through some of the events I’ve made movies about, yeah, I guess I’ve just play-acted a telescoped version of the real thing. You could call that sheltered. I keep thinking about the Chinese curse about living in interesting times. If living your life makes you sound the way you do and look at life the way you do, I don’t mind being sheltered. I have millions of people who adore me and some of them genuinely love me. God knows, I’ve loved more than my share back, including five wives. How much love is in your life, Garrett?”
Chapter Sixteen
The storm blew out at sunset, which was a startling, stunning vista of reds, pinks, oranges and yellows that had Kate and her director of photography sprinting to capture B-roll footage that could be used later, perhaps.
Kate called for filming to start at ten p.m. Garrett presented himself on-set as per the new strategies they had hammered out that afternoon, while the storm battered the trailer, and into the night, once Nial and Sebastian were finished with Gunther.
Gunther had given up nothing, but Nial had not expected him to open up easily, and he had not wasted too much time and effort digging for the truth. Sebastian had driven the man into San Francisco and dumped him, relatively unharmed, before returning to the site with new server components to repair the damage he had caused.
“It doesn’t matter who Gunther was with, or even if he was working solo. The fact that he was here at all means we’re not alone out here,” Nial had emphasized more than once. “We can’t assume that anything we do goes unobserved, now. The plan is working. We need to take up our posts and stay alert.”
So Garrett returned to his assigned position by Kate’s side, reluctance dogging his every step.
She was busy setting up the first scene of the night, so she merely raised her brow as he unfolded the chair that was his and sat in it. “Gracing us with your presence, huh?”
“Figured things needed to get back to normal.” He tried for a casual tone and almost succeeded.
Kate let him get away with it. “Normal sounds good,” she agreed, her tone as fake casual as his and turned away, her attention already pulled by something else.
He looked around. There were perhaps a dozen witnesses to their stiff exchange. He tried to settle into the chair more comfortably and pretend he was relaxed. He watched the bustle around him. Even in just over a week, his education into the processes of shooting a movie had taken a mega-leap and he could name and describe most of what everyone was doing on the set, even if he couldn’t tell if they were doing it well, or not.
His phone vibrated against his chest and he pulled it out.
@DoveAngel. I’m very pleased to have you back.
He looked around. She was nowhere in sight.
His smile after that was quite genuine.
* * * * *
Filming went spectacularly well. It was as if the delays and the storm had been all their bad luck and now they had rolled up and blown away. Patrick was right on top of his game, both physically and with the next scene, a fairly intense emotional scene with Murad’s brother.
Winter stopped by just after three a.m. and crouched by Garrett’s chair and held out a thermos cup. “Coffee,” she said in a voice designed to travel. “I figure you could use some by now.”
“You just earned your bonus,” he said with a sigh and took the mug. From the weight, it felt empty.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“I won’t jinx anything,” he said. “I’m not an expert, but I’d say it seems to be going well. Kate is smiling. That’s a good sign.”
Nial shifted closer and Winter looked up. “Hi.” It was the polite, neutral expression of co-workers who didn’t know each other well.
“I was wondering if that Terry guy was around.” Nial asked. “The computer guy? Patrick can’t seem to get any email on his laptop at the moment and he wants him to look at his computer.”
“He was just waking up when I left the trailer,” Winter told him. “He had to grab a nap. He had an active day today, getting the server up and running again. It’s been down. Maybe that’s why Mr. Sauvage couldn’t get his email. Terry will be here in a minute. I’m sure he can check out the laptop for you.”
Nial looked over her shoulder. “That’s him now, isn’t it?”
Winter turned to look. So did Garrett. He saw Sebastian climbing out of one of the minivans that did nothing but shuttle cast and crew back and forth between the base camp and wherever the day’s shoot happened to be.
Then he heard a sound he had last heard on the battlefield and it made all the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
The quiet, deep “whoomp” had a peculiar echo. It was muffled by the odd little cough that Nial made and the gasping wheeze that Winter gave.
Garrett turned, feeling time slow down to treacle speed.
“And cut!” Kate called, behind him.
No one else had noticed, he realized. No one had realized.
Yet.
Timing was everything now. Timing was critical.
Move, he told himself.
Nial was looking down at his stomach, where a dark stain was spreading on the black tee-shirt. The shirt had been ripped open. And he was starting to fall.
Winter was staring at Nial. She hadn’t processed what had happened to him yet and she wasn’t feeling the pain herself. She could only see the blood on Nial’s skin. Her mind hadn’t caught up with all the facts.
Garrett gripped Nial’s shoulder, straightening him up and holding him upright. “Stay on your feet,” he muttered in his ear. “Whatever you do, don’t crumble now.”
Nial nodded. His eyes narrowed as he concentrated on the suddenly difficult task of simply standing. “Winter,” he breathed.
“I’ve got her,” Garret
t assured him and squeezed his shoulder. He took the two steps between Nial and Winter and hooked his arm around her. “Come on, Annette,” he said, in a louder voice. “These night shoots really don’t agree with you, do they? Let’s find you somewhere to lie down.”
“What?” Winter asked, her expression vacant and bewildered.
Garrett half dragged and half carried her toward the catering van, intending to slip around behind it.
The scene was breaking up now. Crew members were spreading out around them. Kate would be returning to her chair, and her P.A., the young thing that was still plagued with pimples, would hover by with her clipboard. They had to get away from everyone now their attention had relaxed from the hard focus upon getting the scene in the can.
The last thing Kate needed was an assassination scare and neither Nial nor Winter could afford to let it be known a sniper’s bullet had just passed through both of them, yet they were still alive.
Sebastian hurried up to them and picked up Winter’s other arm. “I saw her start to slither,” he said, his voice low. “What happened? Is she ill?”
Garrett should his head. “Not here,” he said shortly, saving his breath for carrying her. Winter had become almost a complete deadweight and he was using strength and power to make it look like she was still doing most of the walking. “Help Nial, instead.”
“Nial?” Sebastian repeated, alarmed. He let Winter go and turned back to where Nial, Garrett presumed, was following behind them.
“What the fuck?” Sebastian breathed softly. “Ó jesus liaigh, mháthair Mary. You didn’t duck, you dumbfuck?”
“Didn’t see it coming,” Nial replied, sounding tired. “Armour-piercing round. I couldn’t stop it from taking Winter, either. Someone has to dig the bullet out of the side of the camera mount it drilled into, before it’s found.”
“I’ll get it,” Garrett said. “As soon as I know you two are okay.” He rounded the back of the van. It was cool and quiet and dark here. Better still, it was relatively private. He propped Winter against the wheel, sitting up. Her eyes were closed.
Sebastian lowered Nial to the ground next to her and he settled on his knees, studying her. He was alert and aware and the flesh peeping through the jagged hole in his tee-shirt showed pale and whole. He had healed already.
Not so Winter.
Sebastian ripped her business-like jacket open. The silky shirt underneath was covered in blood. He moaned, his hands hovering over the mess. Delicately, he reached around behind her, feeling her spine and back. He lifted his hands up. They were covered in blood, too. In the dark, the blood was an ochre-brown, but the coppery smell was an unmistakeable siren song that told Garrett he needed to feed very soon. He felt his nostrils flare.
“Straight through,” Nial breathed. “High velocity sniper rifle. A human would be dead, or close to it.”
“How does this work?” Garrett asked. “Why isn’t she healing like you?”
“She has to be conscious to heal herself. It’s a deliberate act.”
“You mean we have to wake her, make her feel the pain and fix it?” Garrett asked, appalled.
Sebastian breathed heavily, controlling his reactions.
“It’s that, or let her die,” Nial replied.
Garrett hesitated.
Nial pushed him aside, leaned forward and smacked Winter sharply across the face. “Winter!”
Winter moaned, a deep furrow creasing between her brows.
Sebastian grabbed her shoulders and shook her, ensuring she did not slip back from consciousness. He was not gentle.
“How can you do that to her?” Garrett breathed. “She’s your wife.”
Nial glanced at Garrett as he sat back on his heels. “Exactly. She’s our wife. That is why we can do it.”
Garrett shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
Nial’s mouth lifted at one corner. “How could you?”
Sebastian was still leaning over Winter, watching to ensure she roused properly. He tapped her cheek, more softly this time. “Winter,” he said, his voice and tone softer and more gentle than Garrett had ever heard him use before. “Come on, amháin milis. Show me those green eyes. Wake up pissed at me for stealing the covers again. Come on.”
Winter took a deep breath…or tried to. She gave a soft cry and her eyes screwed shut, as she was slammed back into full consciousness by her own pain.
Sebastian heaved a heavy, loud sigh of relief and Nial stroked the back of his neck.
Garrett shifted out of the way as they both gathered around her, murmuring encouragement, as Winter used her unique and special talents to heal herself.
He glanced around. It seems they had got away completely unnoticed. No alarms had been raised. No one was panicking. There was no hysteria.
His gaze was dragged back to the three of them. He watched them huddled together, his mind racing in lockstep with his heart.
How could you? Nial had said. Meaning…what? How could he know, when he was not married? Not in love? Had never been in love? Had never loved another?
His gut clenched as he forced away any thought-images of Roman. That had not been love. That had been the equivalent of a summer’s obsession that had played out over a few centuries. That was all. It was done, now.
But if it had been Roman lying there?
Well, it was a null issue. Roman would never have been lying there. He was vampire. And Garrett didn’t fall in love with humans. He had kept himself scrupulously apart from them because—
Kate.
Garrett surged forward to grab Nial’s shoulder, his heart booming, his gut churning. “I have to feed. Now.”
Nial’s gaze raked over his face, taking in what Garrett was sure was an unhealthy pallor and the early symptoms of blood fever. Nial nodded. “She’s healing now. We’ll recover the bullet and cover for you with Kate.”
Garrett hurried away from the little scene of domestic perfection, racing from his feelings, from anything that made him think of Kate Lindenstream and love in the same sentence or thought.
* * * * *
Once the major repairs had been completed, Winter tried to find a more comfortable sitting position. She had barely moved, when she felt herself being lifted and placed gently into arms, her buttocks resting on thighs, rather than the hard, dry and cracked earth.
She opened her eyes and looked up. Nial looked down at her. “Welcome back,” he said softly.
“You, too.”
Sebastian picked up her hand. He wasn’t sitting cross-legged like Nial, but leaning over both of them. “Stop distracting her, Nial. She needs to finish healing herself. The wound on her abdomen is still open, and—”
Nial grabbed Sebastian’s head and silenced him with a kiss. “Take a deep breath, Bastian. Take a moment to enjoy the fact that we’re alive. Then we’ll start worrying about the details again.”
“But—”
He shook Sebastian’s head. “No. You’re wound up and ready to explode. She’s alive. Accept it and move on. Remember this moment and use it for when you kill the sniper with the rifle, later.” Something flared deep in his eyes. “As I will.”
Sebastian pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes for a second or two, wiping them. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine. Okay, then.”
Nial released him. “So. They know about me. Nathaniel, I mean. They just tried to take the king off the board.” He rested his chin on the top of Winter’s head, thinking. “We still don’t know who ‘they’ are. But this anonymous attack is Pro Libertatis style. And Gunther, this morning, was human, and aimed for a human – Kate – which is League style.”
Sebastian gave an almighty sniff. “Are they both here? Libertatis and the League?”
“Maybe,” Nial said. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Not an open, in public shooting like that. The Libertatis want vampires to remain hidden. That’s their entire mandate. The League, too. Why shoot me in public where I’ll be exposed as not-human in front of six cine
ma quality cameras for the world to see?”
“The shot wasn’t for the head,” Winter pointed out. “They went for the gut. A human just might have survived it.”
Sebastian smiled at her. “My wife,” he said proudly.
Nial turned her face up to his and kissed her. “That’s it,” he said. “They were trying to get me off the set. If a human had survived the shot, they would have been bundled off to intensive care for weeks of treatment, neatly out of the Pro Libertatis’ way. Either way, if that shot had been noticed by any of the humans on the set, I would have had to leave, as either dead or critically wounded.”
“Thanks to Garrett’s quick reaction, you don’t have to do either,” Winter pointed out.
“Maybe he’s not the prick I took him for,” Sebastian mused.
Winter felt Nial breathe in deeply and let it out, relaxing. “He’s learning how to be human again, Bastian. You never forgot in the first place. Give him a break.”
“Besides,” Winter added. “I think he has huge potential.”
“Now, we just need to draw the Libertatis and the League out, instead of having them take pot shots at us from dark corners,” Nial said. “We need faces and names. The second part of the game begins.”
* * * * *
Feeding was a challenge on the set, but there were wandering homeless souls, even out here in these wastelands and although it took him some time, Garrett tracked down a campsite of men just north of the Mexican border, about five miles away from the shoot. They were heavily armed and had posted a guard. Garrett found them by their scent and the scent of their drugs, stashed in the side panels of the trucks they had parked too close to the fire, letting the flames and the metal panels bake the drugs into useless powder. They were destroying their profits as they slept, but they were amateurs. The lack of trouble he had dealing with the guard told him that much.
He fell on them and fed deeply, for his next feed would be uncertain.
He would have left them alive and free to tell their story to whomever would believe them, except that one tried to shoot him even after he had let them go and was walking away.
Blood Stone Page 20
