God help her. Mirren was going to be spitting nails. “Maybe I should hide out at your house.”
“It will be OK if the two of you will just ride with it. There are a lot of advantages to being the mate of a master vampire—Mirren and Aidan are the only masters in Penton. Did you know that?” Krys sipped her wine.
Glory didn’t even know what a master vampire was, unless it had something to do with bondage, which is partly what got her in this mess in the first place. “No, but I guess you better tell me.”
Krys set her wineglass on the coffee table, and the noise made Glory jump. She had to get a handle on her nerves.
“I don’t understand it all myself, but master status is something that happens to vampires when they get a certain amount of power—they become able to communicate mentally, for one thing, and do some other kinds of mental stuff like erase memories. So, as Mirren’s mate, you and he will be able to communicate without talking.”
Oh, this was sounding weirder and weirder. Glory rubbed her temples. “We’ll, like, be able to have conversations in our heads?” Mirren hated her talking badly enough in person. If he had to listen to her talk in his head, he surely would kill her.
Krys smiled. “It takes a lot of concentration to have conversations, but it’s possible. Mostly, you’ll be aware of each other. And your life span will be longer. You’ll be able to pull energy from him if you need it, and vice versa. Um”—she bit her lip—“that’s all I can remember offhand. Aidan could tell you more.”
Glory emptied her wineglass. “I don’t think I want to know any more. And can we undo this bonding thing?”
“I don’t know.” Krys gave her a steady appraisal. “Before you think about undoing it, answer this. Do you love him?”
Glory’s stomach took a tumble. Love? She barely knew the man. “I love that he likes to smell my cooking. I love that he has this quirky love of Western movies and that I know things about him no one else does—did you know he’s a really good artist? I mean, he can draw things. But love him? We are so too soon to be talking about that.”
“Mirren can draw?” Krys grinned. “Well, here’s what I think. You guys have a shot at it, and he’s been alone a long time. As in forever. From what I understand about vampires and mating, it doesn’t just happen between any two people—there’s some kind of vampire mojo stuff that kicks in. And it can happen fast—it did with Aidan and me. Remind me to tell you that story sometime if you think you aren’t ready to talk about love. So give it a chance.”
Yeah, she’d give it a chance…if Mirren didn’t use that battle-ax of his to chop her into little pieces. Then she felt ashamed of herself for thinking such a thing. He was haunted by the violence in his past, and she had no right to make jokes about it, even to herself. However mad he might be, she had no personal fear of him. Whether that made her perceptive or stupid, she wasn’t sure.
Krys lifted her head and looked toward the door a few seconds before Glory heard a car engine. “Is that Aidan already?”
“Not his car,” Krys said, frowning. “Maybe Mark or Melissa came back.”
Glory rose at the sound of the soft knock and opened the door to a well-groomed, middle-aged Latino businessman, complete with navy suit and striped tie. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so. I am Lorenzo Caias…” The man’s cultured, lightly accented voice trailed off as he glanced past Glory and saw Krys, who’d frozen in place at the end of the sofa, her fingers digging into the padded upholstery.
This guy was bad news. Glory felt it on instinct and tried to slam the door in his face. She was too late. He shoved it open with little effort, sending Glory’s right shoulder crashing into the wall with it. Strong guy. Strong vampire, more like.
With someone like Krys, who hadn’t been turned long, or Aidan and Mirren, who spent a lot of time around humans, Glory couldn’t tell they were vampires. Lorenzo didn’t have to show fang; he was even scarier than Matthias in some intangible way she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But this was the Tribunal guy; she recognized his name. Why would he be after Krys?
Glory eased along the wall toward her friend. If she’d ever doubted it, the protective feeling she had now clarifed it. Krys was her friend, and she was afraid of this guy. Glory probably should be afraid of him, but she wasn’t. She thought her time with Matthias had drilled the fear out of her. She’d faced the possibility of her own death and discovered it really wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to her. Lorenzo Caias was just one more bully with fangs.
He stopped just inside the door and stuck his hands in his pockets with what he probably meant to be a pleasant smile. Glory thought sinister ft it better, and it was a little late for pleasantries after he’d forced his way in.
“Dr....Harris, isn’t it? It’s a pleasure to see you again,” he said, studying Krys with a slight smile. “I’m thrilled to see that news of your death at the hands of Aidan’s brother was greatly exaggerated. Of course, Aidan broke our laws when he turned you—I am assuming he did the deed since he felt the need to lie to me about your supposed death?”
Krys didn’t answer, but took a step back toward the hallway. Glory wasn’t sure if she was getting ready to run or if she was clearing out room in case she needed to fight. Her fists clenched and unclenched.
“We’ll talk about it, Mr. Caias, but first Glory here needs to be going.” Krys nodded at Glory and jerked her head toward the back door. “She was supposed to meet our friend Mark a half hour ago. He’ll be searching for her. No need to bring her into this business.”
Renz’s eyes were a deep, warm brown, but somehow, they still managed to look cold when their gaze slid from Krys to Glory. “This is Mirren Kincaid’s house, so I assume you are Mirren Kincaid’s new mate. From your description, I’d say you’re also the young woman I came here in search of.” The creepy smile widened. “Well, now, doesn’t this make for an interesting situation?”
He’d come here for her? Glory glanced at Krys, who shrugged. “Why would you be looking for me?” Had someone from Matthias’s organization ratted? Or was this just one more vampire wanting to use her powers?
Despite the tension in the air, Lorenzo walked to the coffee table and poured himself some wine. “Aidan told me I’d find you here. Matthias Ludlam, the man who kidnapped you, needs to be held responsible. You must come with me, make a statement about what happened, and testify before our Justice Council. Just tell us what happened and why Matthias took you. You’ll be doing a great service to the people of Penton—and to your mate Mirren Kincaid, of course.”
Was he telling the truth? Was this the help that little Hannah had foreseen Glory giving to Mirren and to Penton? Somehow, it felt wrong. Glory saw the same doubt on Krys’s face that she felt in her own heart, which had begun to pound so hard she could hear it echoing through her blood vessels and against her eardrums.
Aidan and Mirren wouldn’t have sent this guy for her. If they wanted her to help him, Mirren would have talked to her himself, no matter how mad he might be. He’d never just send someone he didn’t trust to get her. Something was wrong.
“We’ll wait for them to get here,” Glory said, noting the fash of annoyance that crossed Lorenzo’s face. “Nothing personal, of course, but I need to hear this plan straight from Mirren himself, or from Aidan.” Glory went to stand beside Krys and tried to put all her stubborn Muscogee Creek bravado to work for her.
“I agree,” Krys said. “Feel free to sit here and wait with us until they get here, Renz. Glory, can you help me in the other room a minute? Let’s see if Mirren has some of that Irish whiskey Aidan likes so much.”
Glory followed Krys into the small kitchen, from which they were able to see Renz studying Mirren’s movie collection as if he hadn’t a care. But Glory felt a sweat break out on the back of her neck. There was no doubt that if either she or Krys tried to get out the back door, he’d be on them like lightning on a June bug.
“Listen, and don’t argue.” Krys spoke so low
Glory had to strain to make out the words. “Can you get into Mirren’s safe space?”
Glory had done it once. She might pull it off again. “Maybe,” she whispered. “Why?”
“Go down there now. Lock the hatch behind you. Something’s wrong. Really wrong. No matter what, don’t come back up here until Mirren comes to get you.” Krys put a hand on Glory’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m going to keep him occupied. Now, go.”
“But I can’t leave you—”
“Go!” Krys turned her back and returned to the living room. “Would you like some of that Irish whiskey while we wait, Mr. Caias?”
Glory stood frozen for a moment, then eased into the hallway. She didn’t like leaving Krys alone. The woman might be a vampire, but she was so new at it she might as well be human. Glory didn’t think she’d had time to learn how to fight, especially someone like Renz, who seemed so alien.
Kneeling beside the area rug that covered the hatch to the basement level, Glory closed her eyes and focused on the interlocking pieces of wood, as she’d done before, visualizing them moving in step.
A crash from the living room broke her concentration. Damn it, she couldn’t leave Krys alone with that man. Glory ran back toward the living room door and paused at the sight of Lorenzo pinning her friend against the wall with a single hand to her neck. Krys’s long legs dangled a couple of inches off the floor as she struggled.
“You’re choking her!” Glory grabbed a heavy motorcycle gear off a side table, one she hadn’t found a place for yet, and chunked it at Lorenzo’s head. He swatted it aside but at least it distracted him enough that he let Krys fall.
Glory held her breath, waiting for Krys to regain her feet, and let it out with a whoosh when she did—until she saw the knife in Lorenzo’s hand. Crap. Frantic, she scanned the living room near Lorenzo, and her eyes lit on Mirren’s TV, easily the largest thing in that part of the house. Glory took a deep breath; she could do this. She had to.
She saw only the TV, willing herself not to think about the fash of light that glinted with the stroke of Lorenzo’s arm, light that might have been arcing off a knife blade. Only sixty-one inches of TV and moving it as fast and hard as she could at Lorenzo’s skull.
A puff of plaster dust floated into the air as a hundred pounds of high-def technology ripped from the wall and slammed into Lorenzo’s head, just above his right ear. He howled in what Glory hoped was excruciating pain. Before she could take a breath and tell Krys to run, she was choking herself.
Lorenzo was on her, his hands on her neck, his fangs bared. How had he gotten across the room so fast? Where was Mirren?
CHAPTER 25
Mirren glanced at his watch for at least the dozenth time in the past half hour. He knew the Omega plans were important. He knew that he and Aidan needed to see what progress Will was making. He knew their future might depend on it.
But how many computer images could the man call up for them to see?
Hundreds, apparently. Waste management. Drainage. Ventilation. Pantries for food and water purifcation. Moisture control. Temperature control. Every freaking bit of minutia imaginable. Mirren would almost slit his own throat to shut out the drone of Will’s voice.
He needed to see Glory. The more the night dragged on, the more he thought she might blame herself for the mating fiasco, or maybe even be afraid of what he’d do. She’d pushed his buttons on purpose, true enough. But he could’ve stopped it at any time. And, now that he’d kind of gotten used to the idea, maybe having a mate wouldn’t be such a fiasco, after all. Except, he had to break the woman of that nonstop talking.
Well, after they talked about it. How stupid was that?
A sudden pain shot through his head, and he stumbled back from where he and Aidan had been watching the computer screen over Will’s shoulder. Mirren had trouble drawing a breath. Glory was in troub—
“Something’s off—we’ve gotta get to Mirren’s.” Aidan was already halfway to the ladder leading out of Will’s basement by the time Mirren got to his feet, his lungs feeling like they’d been crushed under the tires of an eighteen-wheeler.
“Move it, Will.” He pushed Will’s ass out of the hatch above him and brought up the rear. Will stopped once they’d reached the hallway and knelt to lock the panel back in place. Mirren grabbed a handful of hair and pulled him to his feet. “Now, goddammit. Leave it.”
They raced to Aidan’s car, with Will taking the backseat. “What the hell’s going on?” he asked, feeling in his pockets and pulling out a folding combat knife. “You tore out half my hair.”
“Don’t know.” Aidan’s voice sounded strangled. “I got a mental call from Krys to get to Mirren’s place; then she pulled energy off me, which means she’s injured. Had something to do with Renz.”
Aidan gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, and it took everything Mirren had inside him not to break one of those knuckles. Aidan had trusted that bastard Renz, had let him come to Penton, and these were the results. They should never have left him alone at the clinic. He’d given in too easily when Aidan suggested taping Glory’s accusations of Matthias and keeping her in Penton. That would mean giving up control, and no Tribunal member ever gave up control.
But an I told you so wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t help the fear rising in his chest like a dragon awakened from a thousand years of sleep—fear was beaten out of the gallowglass as soon as they began combat training as children, and he barely recognized the emotion. They were warriors, expected to fight as warriors and, if needed, to die. And he’d been a good warrior, a constable, a fearless giant leading his men into battle.
Except, now, he wanted to cry out to someone for help. To ditch this feeling of helplessness and replace it with something he understood—a sword, a battle-ax, a gun.
The pain throbbed in his head, and he rubbed his temples again. Did that mean Glory had a head injury? “Why does my head hurt? Vampires don’t have headaches.”
Aidan looked at him with eyes full of worry. “Do you feel your bond to Glory? Close your eyes and imagine it reaching from you to her. You should feel it stretching from your chest like a rubber band pulled taut.”
Mirren shut his eyes and leaned his head against the headrest, visualizing Glory—her independent spirit and humor and warmth. Sure enough, the cord was there. He had to concentrate to feel it, but it was definitely there. “That means she’s OK?” He hated the whining hopefulness in his voice. Hated it.
“It means she’s alive.” Aidan took a curve fast, wheels squealing against the pavement. They lurched to a stop a block from Mirren’s house.
“Mirren, you’re our tactician. How do we play this? We know Renz is in town—maybe at your house. His human driver, who’s also his fam, was with him, since he takes the guy everywhere. If Renz had more people with him when he came to town, I don’t know about it.”
Mirren rubbed his eyes, willing himself to relinquish the focus on his bond to Glory. Tactics. It was just another battle operation. “Cover all the entrances to my house,” he said. “We don’t know how much lead time they had on us, but hopefully they’re still there.”
He refused to think they were too late, that Renz had taken Glory and maybe Krys too. “Aidan, you go in the front,” he said. “Will goes in the back. I’ll come from below, using a private entrance.” This entrance reached through an earthen tunnel stretching back into the woods. Not even Aidan knew it. “Keep it as quiet as you can. Renz will know we’re coming, but his human might not, and he might not be able to tell how many of us are out here.” He thought about pulling in Randa and Tanner, but numbers weren’t the problem—time was. Every second counted.
They split up, with Aidan keeping low to cover the front approach to the house and Will running wide before disappearing behind the far end of the long white structure. Mirren ran with the speed of his human upbringing and the silence of his vampire nature, dodging fallen limbs with sure-footed strength until he reached the closest camouflaged t
unnel entrance in the woods behind the house, one of three.
Brush and limbs left scratches on his hands as he tossed them aside, and he pulled a thumbnail loose digging the cover to the tunnel out of the hard-packed winter soil. He wiped the blood on his shirt, then threw the cover back, leaping feetfirst into the hole and not bothering to pull the tunnel entrance shut behind him. If something had happened to Glory, he didn’t care about safe spaces. He’d be going to war.
Running through the tunnel that had taken him six months to dig, working alone in the hours before dawn ever y day, Mirren kept part of his mind on his bond to Glory, making sure it was still there. The rest of his mind assessed his weapons. Faolain was in its scabbard in his private suite, but this tunnel went into the side of the basement, and he didn’t want to waste time going to the subbasement to arm himself. His .45 was still in his shoulder holster where he always carried it. He’d grab a couple more blades from the basement, and it would have to be enough.
He’d like nothing better than the satisfaction of snapping bones and tendons as he tore Lorenzo Caias’s head from his scrawny neck. He might box it up and mail it to Matthias Ludlam.
Mirren’s sluggish heart pounded harder than he remembered it doing since he’d been turned four centuries ago by an Irish foot soldier irate at being rejected from joining the gallowglass. The bond is there. She’s alive. But the pain in his temple cut like jagged glass, and he felt a drain in his limbs that had to mean she was pulling strength from him. She was hurt.
He willed more power into their bond as he raced up the ladder into the main level of the house and met Will in the hallway. Together, they eased on either side of the door to the living room.
“She’s not here.” Aidan spoke in a fat voice, not looking up from the spill of auburn hair trailing over his lap and pooling on the floor beside him. He cradled Krys in his left arm, the fingers of his right hand pressed into the ground-up mess of blood and fabric that covered her chest.
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