Pressure crushed Rafe’s chest. The thought of killing the man he loved as a brother brought the bitter taste of bile into his mouth, combining with the reality before him. If Rafe failed, Hebric would have his name and deeds expunged from the annals, as if he’d never existed: the worst fate possible.
Rafe clenched his fists. I will not fail. Hebric must die with his weapon in hand to maintain his place of honor and continue in the other realms. Rafe determined he’d give him that chance.
Rafe lifted his nose to the air. The coppery smell of blood mingled with death to fill his senses, familiar and unwelcome. For a moment, Rafe’s thoughts lay chained on another world. His heart pounded and he shook himself violently back to Earth. He breathed through the wrenching memory.
“I have the Enforcers cleaning up this mess. Bram won’t arrive for another week,” said Dante. “If the media gets a hold of it this time, there will be real trouble.”
“Trouble? A tame word for insurrection. If the rebels hear of it, I doubt if even Talon can dissuade revolt. Our existence depends on maintaining control.” Rafe felt the weight of decision and rolled his shoulders. If humans learned the truth, they’d fight, and every drop of their blood was precious. “Don’t worry. I’ll post the dead as having transferred to Kivron, as usual. I can handle the heat from the High Council.” Rafe clenched his teeth. He hated the politics, the lies, and the senseless end of life.
Rafe pulled his Neutron Eliminator from the loop on his belt and followed the carnage across the sun-baked ground. His black leather boots crunched against sand over stone until he stopped at the next rise, grateful his battle suit hid him in the darkness. Even crazed, Hebric would be difficult to overcome. “This way.” He beckoned Dante and the Enforcers to back him up, and pushed down the despair threatening his focus.
The trailhead loomed ahead, towering rock walls with scrub oak eerily gray in the night. The cool desert wind rustled his hair and Rafe brushed it back from his wary eyes. His claws lengthened in preparation. Rafe knew the vampire’s talents and steeled himself against what might lie ahead, waiting for him in the shadows.
The Enforcers positioned themselves around the sandstone pillars with their jagged outcroppings. Rafe took a few steps in the direction of the sizzle from a Nova sword and the stink of burning flesh. “Hebric, come out and let’s talk.” Concern thickened Rafe’s tone as he stalked nearer.
“No. I’m busy,” rasped a voice ahead and to Rafe’s right.
Rafe’s fangs lengthened. “Too busy for an old friend? It’s Rafe Nucretah. We were in school together and fought side by side in the war on Kivron. You remember?” He crept forward.
“Rafe?”
“Yes.” He skulked around a twisted cedar, the woodsy scent masking his own. “I’ve come to visit.” Feelings of sorrow, love, and pity warred within him. He had to remain sharp and tamp down the uncomfortable emotions.
Another sizzle from the Nova sword. “Are you hungry? Join me for a meal.” Hebric’s voice thinned on the breeze.
The stench of charred flesh wafted toward Rafe. He cringed, fearing what he’d find. “Don’t go to any trouble on my behalf. We can talk about the time you saved my life. You were the bravest of all.” Rafe slipped through the rock passage.
“I remember. It’s no trouble. I just sliced off a juicy limb. Join me.”
“Silch.” Rafe sprinted past a boulder, tore through the passage, and halted before a cleft in the rock. He peered in.
There, with his back against the rough sandstone sat Hebric, his large powerful build wearing his charcoal dress uniform. His fangs dripped red as he held up his own severed leg. “It’s fresh,” he wheezed.
Rafe wanted to turn away from the morbid sight, but couldn’t. How could he bring his friend to a respectful end if he couldn’t fight? The madness had brought a valiant warrior to this, and it tore at Rafe’s heart. His comrade and trusted friend, lost to him. He fought back the tears stinging behind his eyes as he cautiously stepped closer. Bile rose and Rafe swallowed it, willing his mouth to smile. “I see that.”
He moved beside his friend, picked up the sword lying in the dirt, and held it out to Hebric. He ignored it and continued to stare at the flesh in his hands. Rafe swallowed hard, accepted the juicy limb from his friend, and then pressed the weapon into Hebric’s palm.
“Fight me.” Rafe waved his own weapon above Hebric’s head.
“You want games? I’m tired, Rafe. Perhaps I’ve eaten too much. After a nap.” Hebric’s head bobbed and his eyelids lowered to slits.
“No! Take a swipe at me.” Rafe taunted him, desperate to get him to act.
“Later. Aren’t you hungry? ” Hebric’s gray eyes opened briefly.
Dante and the rest circled around Rafe, disgust and grim acceptance stamped on their faces. Hebric grimaced, and his pale brows furrowed. “You brought company. I don’t believe one leg will be enough.” He dropped the Nova sword and his arm fell at his side.
Rafe’s throat closed as he hunkered down beside his friend. Hebric was dead. Grief twisted his gut. “I’m sorry, old friend. I’ve failed you,” he murmured. “I’ve eternally failed you.”
The crimson flood coated the dirt and soles of Rafe’s black boots, making them slide against the rock as he turned toward Dante.
“He wasn’t yet one thousand,” said Dante, his skin paler than usual.
“No.”
Dante set his shadowed gaze on Rafe. “He waited too long.”
“We all know the risk of nearing a thousand years. Hebric thought he had time.” Rafe schooled his emotions and watched understanding burden his brother’s face.
“He was two years younger than you,” whispered Dante.
“Are you worried for my sanity? Don’t be. I’m not Hebric. I’ll be safe after I claim a mate.” Rafe rubbed the back of his neck. “Hebric admitted to being too choosy.”
“But no unattached male is safe from the madness once he reaches one thousand, not even you.”
Rafe winced inwardly. “I’m well aware of my situation.” He looked on Hebric’s mangled body. “I’ll take care of it.”
# # #
Three nights since the carnage in the desert and Rafe still couldn’t shake the vile images from his mind. He’d done all in his power to save Hebric’s honor and had failed. The memory of Kivronian blood still lay heavy in his nose. When he’d returned home that night, he’d had his battle suit and blood stained boots destroyed. He couldn’t look on them without seeing his own destruction.
The signs of madness were becoming impossible to ignore, clouded thinking, occasional confusion, and the slight impairment of his natural abilities were only the beginning. So far, he’d kept his illness hidden. But how long could his gift for logic withstand the insanity that had shredded Hebric’s mind? I must act tonight.
He dressed in a charcoal suit, shirt, and crimson tie. Red was the sacred color for loss. Now, his tie was the only respect he could allow without drawing attention. Through three nights of mourning in secret, Rafe had worn the red robe in his rooms as he burned all correspondence and memorabilia from his friend. Hebric’s multiple offences, succumbing to madness, slaughtering humans, the source of Kivronian life, and then to die as he did—disgraced without redemption, made it an offense to whisper his name. As of dawn today, Hebric never existed. Tears welled up, but Rafe fought the display. Enough. Silent memories were all he had left of the man he’d loved as a brother.
Tonight, he’d act before he fell to the same fate. Rafe’s heart wasn’t in the search for a mate, but he refused to let Hebric’s death count for nothing. I’ll do my duty in your honor—and live.
Rafe found Dante in the dining room, sipping a glass of blood from a crystal goblet. Normally, Rafe enjoyed the conversations shared in this room of dark wood and yellow walls, but not on this night. Taking a deep breath, Rafe broached the uncomfortable subject. “It’s been scheduled. I’ll secure a mate tonight.”
Dante sat back in the heavy oak chai
r and studied his brother. “You’ve decided on a human female, then. Who is she? The South American Ambassador’s daughter or the attaché from China?”
After the ache of Hebric’s loss, Rafe understood his brother’s concern for him, but it didn’t ease his task. “There are plenty of attractive females on Earth. For once, my position as
Governor isn’t important, survival is. I won’t take months to woo an appropriate prize. I should’ve taken care of this before now. I knew my time was drawing short. I just….”
Hebric’s blood, darkening the sand invaded Rafe’s mind and he shook his head against it. “I’ll make a claim.”
“Do you have one in mind?”
“No, but since waiting to win one of our own females in the 1ottery isn’t an option I can afford, I’ll make due with a human.” Rafe felt desperation churning his insides. He couldn’t chance putting it off, couldn’t meet the same end as his comrade. Another violent twist of his heart made Rafe rub his stinging eyes with his fingers. “I’ll have a bride.”
Dante’s jet-black brows traveled up. “You can’t mean to bind yourself to a female you barely know. I realize the situation has been difficult and the loss, great, but this is for eternity. Couldn’t you wait until our brother and sire return?”
“Don’t worry, Bram will understand and our sire will be relieved it’s done. I’m taking precautions. The women will be fully vetted by Match Maker Registry. Many females seek Kivronian husbands and will accept if I offer. It’s been done by others.” Rafe leaned forward and locked eyes with Dante. “Better to be bound to a stranger and live, than face insanity and be expunged from the annals. I mean to survive.”
Within the hour, Rafe sped down the darkened highway through the desert, lit only by the stars, and the headlights of his black Bentley. The Kivronian vehicles he owned were faster, but he enjoyed the vintage car. Control rested solely in his hands, rather than the voice-activated computer. Hebric hates this car. Hated.
His friend’s death sliced through him like a Nova sword. Rafe grimaced, pressed harder on the accelerator and flew past the cremation facility. His comrade’s torso had turned to ash within hours. The remnants scattered to the winds while his head had sat prominently displayed to ridicule for three nights. Even his skull had been ground to dust by now. Hebric had been valiant, a warrior of the first order. He deserved better.
Rafe pulled himself from the painful thoughts and focused on the task at hand. Claiming a mate should be a joyful undertaking, but not under the present circumstances. The binding would stunt madness, but not cure it. Only his mate’s love would hold such power. Even if she did grow to love him enough, the binding would end his chance of having children. Humans couldn’t bear their young. It’s the reason Hebric had put off taking a mate, hoping to win a Kivronian female in the 1ottery. They’d spoken of it often since invading Earth. The joy of little ones, teaching them to fight, making sure they grew into valiant warriors, true, brave, and strong. It’s also the reason Rafe had procrastinated. That future is gone. His fingers tightened on the wheel.
The goal of claiming a female would have to coincide with business. He had a sector to run, and the nasty business of covering up the massacre of eighteen people. A statement had been sent to the media the next day. The immediate transfer of humans to his home planet rarely occurred, most often when an accidental loss of life made it a necessary ploy. He hoped the rebels believed it. His jaw tightened. Only a direct order from the High Council could make him engage in such deceit. Duty and survival of his people made his compliance imperative. But he didn’t like it.
At least, the issue of claiming a mate would be done by evening’s end. His assistant had scheduled a parade of eligible young women for Rafe to peruse between meetings. Ridiculous. What kind of person would degrade herself in that way? He couldn’t imagine, and didn’t relish finding out. “Some social climber or a girl desperate to further her career,” he grumbled.
Rafe scowled. The tires screeched and threw red sand as he took the turn into town. He’d known one day he’d likely have to claim a human. There were few Kivronian females left after the civil war, but the High Council claimed most and dangled the rest before their males in the 1ottery. Chances of winning against such odds were miniscule.
Humans were illogical, fragile, and their culture confusing. And now he must bind himself to such a creature? Rafe chafed at the idea. He demanded order. Lived and breathed the neat, controlled existence of the military. No matter the difficulties, he’d make it work. I’m in control of the situation.
Rafe halted before the government complex and killed the engine. He would accomplish his objective, find a female who wasn’t overly annoying, claim and bind her. With his superior senses and intellect, he should be able to pick a suitable mate, even in Red Rock, Utah.
# # #
Pepper sat poised in Governor Nucretah’s waiting area, her laptop computer balanced on her skirt-clad thighs as she typed notes for her latest assignment. Landing an interview with Governor Rafe Nucretah was a coup. She’d been trying for months. Though he’d agreed, she’d shown up every night for the last three, sitting in the hall, trying to get in to see the most powerful, and reportedly, devastatingly handsome, alien vampire in the Western Quadrant. Tonight he was available, and Pepper had finally been allowed past the front desk. She refused to leave without seeing him.
Months ago, Pepper had graduated from writing the food section of the Red Rock Times to fulfill her dream job: investigative reporter. She’d longed to sink her teeth into reporting on political corruption and to tear it wide open. The public had a right to know. Even though, after the alien take-over there wasn’t much a human could do to change things. Still, knowledge was power. Humanity needed information, and Pepper Morgan was just the girl to give it to them.
This assignment was nothing special. Yet another group of humans had been transferred to the planet, Kivron. The real story was the man who authorized the transfers. That’s what she’d told her editor, but Pepper had begged for the assignment for other reasons than a story.
Worry over her father kept her up at night. Her concern had grown until it had possessed her thoughts and had railed at her every waking moment. Information didn’t cause her anxiety, but the lack of it. Pepper trusted her gut. She hadn’t heard from her father, except for the few letters that came by way of the inter-galactic transporter, and they were infrequent. So unlike him. Something is very wrong.
Six months ago, he’d been transferred. “Shanghaied, was more like it,” she muttered to herself. She’d returned home from work to find an official letter on the kitchen table next to her father’s blue coffee cup. The services of Dr. Ben Morgan were required for an indefinite interval. His clothes and essentials were gone, but he’d left the sweater she’d made him last Christmas. Little things like that gnawed at her. His favorite ratty sneakers cluttered the floor of his closet. Those things she could attribute to the speed of his leaving, but not the photo of her mom. He always kept it next to his bed. He’d have taken that—if he could have.
Her father was a renowned biologist and useful to the aliens. She was proud of him. His search for a cure for the ruthless plague that had devastated Earth’s population had taken most of his time. He would have forgotten to eat, if she hadn’t shoved a plate of food under his nose. He would tease her about her cooking. The toast was too brown and the eggs were too wet. She blinked back moisture and wiped her cheek. He’d eat every crumb.
Her mother had succumbed to the disease at its height, ten years ago. Civilization had dissolved into chaos as the body count had mounted. Pepper shuddered. Fearful thoughts of those days haunted her. Earth had become a war zone. Her stomach knotted. She’d been fifteen. There were no words dark enough to capture those months of loss and devastation.
And then the aliens came.
Kivronian medicine had proved their salvation. Working with her father, the deaths ended and society reordered. Humanity owed its life to the vam
pires—and the invaders meant to collect. She closed her laptop and fisted her hands in her lap. At least when Mom died, I had the chance to say, “Goodbye”.
A gaggle of young women fluttered into the waiting area, all well dressed and dripping sophistication.
“Ladies, I’m Celeste, Mr. Nucretah’s assistant. Make sure we have your current information so we can contact you.”
Pepper studied the slight, coal haired vampire. She had the most unusual silver eyes. Her blood red lips, set against bone white flesh, might have been appealing, if she didn’t make Pepper’s skin crawl. Call it intuition or a hunch, but there’s something creepy about that woman. After three nights, Pepper thought she’d seen everyone, but not Celeste. Apparently, if Nucretah didn’t show up, neither did his assistant. Rough life.
Turning her focus to the women, Pepper could see that any one of them could have been a model or a beauty queen, if those industries had still existed. Who were they? Too refined for hookers, and too well dressed to need a job, these women looked like exotic jewels, born to adorn a powerful man’s arm.
Pepper ran her hand over her navy wool skirt. The suit was well made, and still in decent shape for being second hand, but her white blouse was almost new. She pulled a loose thread from her jacket and sat up a little straighter.
Watching the group with rapt attention, Pepper continued her speculation. They wore make-up and jewelry. A few bothered to style their hair in a sleek Kivronian knot, a sort of French twist that bared their necks. Alluring to vampires.
Most humans couldn’t afford cosmetics and Pepper went about fresh-faced. Her dad used to say her skin didn’t need help and her cheeks were blessed with a natural rosy glow. Oh Dad, how I miss you. One of the beauties wore false lashes. Bambi would kill to have eyes like those. Pepper sighed. Who am I kidding? Her clump of auburn hair was too thick and hung to her waist. Her eyes weren’t anything spectacular. She should be grateful she wasn’t competing with those goddesses. What were they doing here?
Being the investigative reporter she was, Pepper marched up to the girl with the lashes, who wore a cream silk dress, and began interrogating. “Lovely dress. Is this for a photo shoot?” Pepper waved her arm to include the clan of beauties.
Apollo's Gift (The Greek Gods Series) Page 19
