"You were a Roman centurion," I said. "How did you end up a Wraith?"
His lips pulled back in a snarl. I held up my hands in supplication. This was an emotionally wounded creature—a man confined to animal form. Why he had turned from gentle giant to angry monster, I didn't know. Sympathy wound through my fear. He was a trapped soul and he was suffering due to another's desire to persecute. Then again, the Romans knew a thing or three about persecution. Maybe that was why Faustus was attracted to the Wraiths in the first place.
I kept my gaze on his. Where are the others like you? How many are there? Where are the Wraiths?
He shook his massive head. Possible to save us?
I glanced at Lorcan, who watched our exchange with an impassive expression. Nervous, I tried to decide what to do. Lie to get the information? Give him false hope in order to further our cause? I swallowed my sigh. I couldn't bring myself to add to his victimization.
We don't have a cure for the taint, Faustus. Even if we did, what's been done to you is irreversible.
He nodded, his palms sliding away from the plastic, and turned away.
Please, help us, I sent out desperately. Tell us where the other lycans are—or at least where the Wraiths are located.
Faustus didn't answer. Instead he dropped to his knees, lifted his head, and howled. The sorrowful noise made my soul ache with misery. I'm sorry, Faustus. I'm so sorry.
"This sucks." Jessica crossed her arms and huffed. "What are we going to do now?"
"We take measures to protect the town," said Patrick. "And we find the hiding places of the lycans and the Wraiths."
"Patrols are already casing the town's perimeter," said Damian, the head of security, who had joined us in the laboratory. One of three triplet lycanthrope guardians, whom I knew now to be royals, he was tall, well muscled, and always wore black leather. He also scared the poo-dilly-poop out of me. I was grateful to know that he and his brothers were on the side of the Consortium.
I stood close to Lorcan, trying not to look at either Stan, who smelled like a four-course meal, or Damian, whose blood seemed rather appetizing, too. As far as I knew, lycanthropes were not donors. Vampires needed to imbibe human blood, though we could live off of animals if necessary. I wondered where shape-shifters fit into the mix.
"If the prisoner isn't going to be of use," said Damian, "then we should terminate him."
"No!" Everyone turned to stare at me. Shocked, I realized the protest had issued from my lips.
"I know it sounds like a shitty thing to do," said Jess. "But, honey, he can't be saved. It's the kindest action we can take."
I shook my head, feeling too unnerved to voice another protest.
Damian, who'd been leaning against the counter, straightened. He studied me for a moment. "It is unfortunate, Liebling, but necessary."
I knew that he was patronizing me. He thought me cute and nice, but not a threat. Damian was strong and he was smart, but he hadn't considered the idea that if I could read one lycan's thoughts I could read another's.
"You don't think it's unfortunate at all," I said quietly. "You look forward to seeing the unworthy half-breed destroyed."
Damian was a master at self-control, but not even he could prevent the flash of stunned surprise that crossed his face.
"He didn't volunteer for the Wraiths' mutation program," I said. "Perhaps you understand something about that."
"Stay out of my head," he said in a low voice. He stepped forward, fists clenched. A growl issued from his throat. I recoiled internally, but though it scared me, I held my ground.
"What are you doing, Damian?" asked Lorcan in a polite voice. He stepped forward, half shielding me. "Surely you're not threatening Eva."
"No," he ground out. "I need to check in with my teams." With a heated glance at me, he stalked out of the lab.
Jessica poked my shoulder. "What the hell did you see in that furball's mind?"
"Nothing." I knew Damian's secret, but I wouldn't reveal it—not even to Jessica.
I turned to Patrick. "Faustus served Rome as a centurion. Once he was a good man, and even now he's a proud one. If he must die, allow him to choose his death. He deserves that much."
"I will take your concerns and suggestions to the Consortium," he said. "But in the end, the decision is not mine to make."
Bureaucratic pass-the-buck bullshit. I hadn't expected Patrick to fall back on a company line. Admittedly, I had always found it strange that a group of vampires had created a corporate environment.
Lorcan took hold of my arm. "I will escort Eva home."
"Yeah," said Jessica, grinning widely. "You do that."
"Why did you not feed?" asked Lorcan.
"Kitty rescue. Faustus delivery. Mutant mind meld," I said, feeling light-headed and weird. If I hadn't known better, I would've thought I was tipsy. "It's been a busy morning—er, evening."
"To say the least."
Once we had exited the house, Lor let go of me. I regretted the loss of contact. No doubt about it. Lorcan O'Halloran was yum-yum-yummy. Regret wiggled through me. For just a moment, I wished I were alive and normal and on a date. Dream on, Eva.
We walked down the driveway, which was dark, wide, and nearly a mile long. I supposed that at some point it was considered more of a road than a drive, but since it led only to the Silverstone house it hardly mattered what one called it.
"Who are your regular donors?" he asked.
"Charlie and Alison. They live at Jess's old place."
"Then I will take you there." He paused. "Perhaps not Charlie. He seems to have developed a crush on you."
I glanced at him. "Why don't you offer a pint?"
"No one drinks from me," he said.
"You still have the taint?" My heart did a loop-de-loop.
He shook his head. "No. But we are still studying the effects of the blood exchange that saved me."
"How did you get the taint?" I asked. I was being too inquisitive. My usual stance was that people were entitled to their secrets and their sorrows. If someone wanted me to know something, they would tell me. However, I'd plucked a secret from Damian's thoughts and now I was asking for one from Lor.
"It's a long story," he said. "And I'm in no mood to tell it."
"You only have one mood," I muttered. "Morose."
"What did you say?"
"Um… er… huh?"
"Have you lost your bravery already, a stóirín?"
"My badge of courage fell off," I said and snickered. "Hey, can I use your phone again?"
"Where is yours?" he asked as he slipped the slim device from his pocket.
I slapped my forehead. "It was in the backpack I dropped in the forest last night."
"I'll find it for you," said Lorcan. "Promise me you'll stay out of the woods."
I tried not to make promises I couldn't keep, so I kept quiet. I took the phone and punched in Tamara's cell number. It rang and rang and rang, then flipped over to voice mail. Frowning, I left another message. I dialed the library phone. No one answered.
"I need to go home," I said. "Tamara still isn't picking up the phone and that's not like her. I have to check in on her."
Lorcan tucked the phone into his pocket, then gestured me forward. "Let's go. But as soon as you know she's okay, you must feed."
"Yes, mo-ther."
Lor wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing me into his chest. I felt no warmth, no reassuring beat of his heart—yet the heat of desire bloomed in my belly and warmed me right through. I twirled my hair and tucked it between us so that it wouldn't blow in Lor's face. It was girly of me to do it, but I rested my head on his shoulder. It might've been my imagination, but I thought Lor's arms tightened around me. As we took off, I felt a little jump in my stomach.
The air blew coolly against my face, the faint scent of honeysuckle teasing me as we passed over the razed high school grounds. Three months ago, the Wraiths had blown up the high school in the hope that they would off most of Broken Hear
t's citizens.
The night looked like black velvet with the occasional piercing of diamond stars. Coasting through the air in the arms of a handsome man struck me as romantic. I smiled and flexed my hands against Lor's back. For a monk who spent most of his time reading and writing, he was finely built.
"Eva, " he murmured. I thought I heard laughter in his voice.
We arrived at the house far too quickly. As we had the evening before, we landed on the balcony that led to my former bedroom. Still feeling giddy, I reluctantly pried myself out of Lor's arms. "Thanks for the ride."
"My pleasure."
If I hadn't known better, I might have described the emotion glimmering in his eyes as desire. If Lor managed to forgive himself long enough to pursue a relationship with a woman, why would he choose me? Mom always said that you had to be wanted for yourself, faults and all. She told me she'd had that kind of love with Dad—that they balanced each other. "Between us," she'd often say with a soft laugh, "we made a whole person."
"I'll see you later," I said, turning away from Lor.
He grabbed my hand. "Wait."
Surprised, I faced him.
We stared at each other for a long moment. His eyes shifted from silver to dark gray, his pupils contracting. Then he blinked and all I saw in his soulful gaze was yearning.
He cupped my face, hesitant. We had no real breath, no dance of pulses, and no frantic thud of heartbeats. But desire existed all the same. I could keep the past between us. Yes, I could use it like a wedge to keep us apart.
Just like he was doing.
Instead, I closed the gap between our lips.
His mouth captured mine and I melted into his embrace, quaking from his sudden and gentle conquering of my lips.
Our kisses were tentative. Butterfly wings. Soap bubbles. Angel feathers.
Then I dipped my tongue inside his mouth. He sucked on it, causing hot desire to roar through me. Lust backdraft.
He gathered me closer still, holding me tight as his tongue warred with mine. My hands delved into his loose hair and I tugged, desperate as one of those television housewives. I wanted more, so much more than this—I wanted Lorcan.
Then, like a candle flame doused by the wind, it was over.
"Evangeline." He sounded ragged and hoarse and regretful. Frowning, he cupped my face once more. "I regret nothing."
"Why are you in my head? Why can you—"
"Ssshh. We'll talk about it soon. I promise."
I accepted his evasion, but it made me nervous to know that he could read my thoughts… the same way I could read his.
"Let's go check on Tamara," he said.
"You don't have to babysit me. I'm not going to ditch feeding." I pressed a hand against my stomach. "I'm starving."
Smiling, he laced his fingers through mine and, unable to resist his chivalry (or bossiness, depending on how you looked at it), I led him through the bedroom. He held my hand down all the flights of stairs and by the time we hit the hallway, I was feeling moon-eyed and tingly.
The silence was as thick and strong as a brick wall. No music? No TV? No pings from the PSP? The hair rose on the back of my neck. Had she gone out? I doubted it. It wasn't like her to not pick up the phone if she planned to go somewhere. She was as protective of me as I was of her. I couldn't catch my breath. Then I realized I was trying to inhale oxygen—an unnecessary action for a vampire.
Now every hair on my body stood on end. Something's wrong. I wrenched my hand free of Lor's, but he grabbed my shoulder to stop me. Without making a sound, he glided down the hall and paused before my daughter's bedroom door. Despite the fact that not a single light pierced the black, I could see perfectly well.
Fear pounded through me as I followed. With my heart in my throat, I watched Lor open the door.
We looked inside.
The boy, who looked like an escapee from a punk rock band, dropped Tamara's limp body onto her twin bed. He spun, raising his arms in an attack position. Two daggers shot into his hands. They were at least six inches long, sharp on both sides, and aimed at me.
Chapter 10
With a snarl, I shoved Lorcan aside and in a nanosecond I had the intruder pinned against the wall by his throat. Fury ripped through me and a red haze descended over my eyes. My fangs elongated and I barely resisted the urge to plunge them into his flesh. "What did you do to my daughter?"
"I didn't hurt her!" yelled the boy. "I am trying to help her!" His accent sounded Russian, but I didn't particularly care where he hailed from. He brought the knives to my stomach; the sharp tips pierced my T-shirt and grazed my skin. "Let me go!"
"You can't hurt me." I pressed my hand deeply into his neck and he gurgled, his eyes bulging. "But I can hurt you."
His hands fell away, but his gaze held more frustration than fear.
"Eva," said Lorcan in a low voice, "we need to find out why he's here and what he's doing. You must not kill him."
Kill him. Yes. That's what I should do. I looked at the skin visible between my hand and his T-shirt. I contemplated sinking my fangs into his flesh and dining on him. Hunger wound through my anger and suddenly I couldn't resist dipping closer to the boy. Kill him…
No, a stóirín. If you harm him, you will never forgive yourself. Let him go.
Aggrieved by my own behavior, I released the boy, who dropped to the ground and massaged his throat. His fancy knives disappeared into his sleeves again.
"Tamara," I said as I rushed to her side. I smoothed her hair away from her too pale face. She was still breathing, but her pulse seemed shallow and erratic. Oh, God. Oh, God. I wanted to cry, but vampires weren't allowed tears. My hands fluttered around her. What could I do? She was so pale. Helpless to do anything, I looked at Lor. His gaze was riveted on her, his lips pulled into a grimace.
I followed his line of sight. On her neck were two spots of blood. Rage reignited in an instant. I wheeled around. "You little bastard!"
Lorcan stepped between us, just as I rose and lurched for the boy again. He said, "Solas."
Green balls of light flickered into the room. They floated around as pretty as dancing fairies. Had I seen those lights before? A vague memory flickered, then was lost.
I reined in my temper for the second time. I glared at the young man wobbling to his feet. He had loose black hair, cut in jagged lengths around his face. His shirt was black, as was his leather jacket, which was riveted with silver studs and chains. His jeans were faded and ripped, tucked into black biker boots.
"She's only fifteen," I said.
"So am I," he retorted hoarsely.
"You're a vampire," I accused. "You could've turned fifteen six months ago or sixty years ago." I felt a momentary sense of pity. No matter when he'd been made a vampire, he hadn't had a chance to grow up fully.
"I am not a vampire," said the boy venomously. "I am a vampire hunter."
Shocked to my toes, which after the last couple of hours I wouldn't have thought possible, I sank down next to Tamara and stroked her hair. Sick with worry and fear, I focused on my daughter. What had happened to her? Had someone attacked her? Or had she offered herself as a vampire snack?
"You are a Roma warrior," said Lor.
"And you are a muló."
"No matter what you believe, I am not a ghost inhabiting a man's form. I own my soul." Lorcan kneeled next to me. His eyes were alight with empathy and concern. "I can transport her to the hospital, Eva."
I knew he meant he would be able to zap her there. Older vampires learned how to dissemble and reassemble their bodies in a way that was very Star Trek. Only the really old vamps could take themselves and someone else. I nodded, even though it killed me to be away from her for even a few minutes. "What about him?"
"You will accompany Eva," said Lorcan to the boy. "After we get medical attention for Tamara, you will tell us why you broke into Eva's home and tried to kidnap her daughter."
The boy crossed his arms. "You cannot glamour me, vampire. I am resistant to your
powers."
"I am not trying to bend your will," said Lor. "I'm reminding you that the Roma have a peace treaty with the Consortium. You do not hunt our members."
His dark eyes flickered with anger. Then he nodded sharply. "I will do as you ask."
Lorcan scooped Tamara into his arms. He leaned down and kissed my cheek. "All will be well, Eva. I promise."
He and my daughter disappeared in a shower of gold sparkles. I turned toward the Roma hunter. "Do you have a name?" I asked.
"Durriken."
He pronounced it "DOO-reek-en." His accent wasn't Russian after all. I couldn't pinpoint it, and honestly, I didn't care. Weary, starved, and eager to get to the medical facility, which had been completed mere weeks ago, I pointed to the door. "Let's go."
"You say the girl is your daughter, but you are dead."
"I had her before I got undead," I snapped. "And you'd do well to remember to address your elders with more respect."
Durriken flashed a grin, looking more like the boy he was than the warrior he claimed to be. "You are a mother, no doubt."
We left the house and though it killed me not to run to the hospital and leave Durriken behind, I knew it wasn't wise. Instead, we got into my yellow VW. Had I been alone, I would've raced through the streets and made hairpin turns. Unfortunately, my passenger wouldn't survive a crash, so I only went twenty miles faster than the posted speed limits.
By the time we arrived at the hospital, Durriken was clutching the sides of his seat and looking green. I thought it a fine, if petty, revenge. The cuts on my stomach had already healed, but my T-shirt was done for.
The new hospital had been built on the same ground occupied by the old Broken Heart hospital. It had been one of the first buildings bulldozed. The new building was three stories, white as the frosting on a wedding cake, and filled with state-of-the-art equipment designed to help humans and parakind.
Broken Heart Town 2 - Don't Talk Back to Your Vampire Page 7
