"Forgive me, Father, for the interruption,” Cheyenne butted in, “but I'm perfectly capable of seeing to my own safety. And I already have a place to stay."
At that bit of news, the priest turned narrowed eyes onto Kieran, making him want to squirm in his chair. He hadn't arranged for her to sleep, uh, stay with him once they got back to New Orleans, although that seemed to be the priest's suspicions. It wasn't that bad of an idea, come to think of it. He had better security measures there than most federal buildings in the country. And, well, he had already slept with her, sort of; they didn't actually sleep, though.
He turned from the priest and glanced at Cheyenne. “You do?"
"Yes. I can stay with my sister-in-law."
"That's not a good idea,” Kieran said before Father Hardwin could.
Cheyenne got defensive. “Why not? Because you didn't think of it?"
"No, because it's not safe. By going there you could endanger another human. Is that what you want?"
Cheyenne scoffed. “They won't find me there. There's nothing to connect me to her."
"Except your deceased brother."
She frowned at the reminder. “Be that as it may, it's unlikely they even know who I am or my brother. They got lucky in Baton Rouge. That's all. So, I'm not staying here or in some convent just to appease your misguided, Don Quixote complex."
"Don—"
"I'm a grown woman. I've taken care of myself for years since my husband died. I see no reason to change that now just because you think some psycho vamp named Marsalis is after me. The only reason they found me in Baton Rouge was because I fell for their trap at the cemetery. They've no way of finding me at Val's."
The priest's face turned from him to her to him again as if watching a ping pong match with avid curiosity. “Mrs. Logan,” Father Hardwin began.
"Please, call me Cheyenne."
He smiled. “Cheyenne, then. Kieran is correct in his desire to exercise caution. Marsalis is a very dangerous vampire, and he's resourceful. The Order has been trying to locate him for centuries. One moment he appears; the next he vanishes into legend.” He turned to Kieran. “Shall I call in reinforcements?"
Kieran nodded. “I think we'll need it. Whatever he's up to, he's not working alone this time. He sent three vamps after Cheyenne already. And he knows we're on to him now, since one got away."
"Okay."
"Is Tristan still in the area?” A fellow vampire who was even older than Kieran, Tristan was a real badass and not someone Kieran would invite over for dinner, but he was a damn good person to have on your side in a fight with unfair odds. And Marsalis never played fair.
"I believe so. I'll check with his scout.” Scouts were what Father Hardwin was to Kieran, a vampire's human contact in the Order.
"What's this Order thing you mentioned? Is that who you work for?” Cheyenne asked, her gaze on the priest.
He gave her a gentle, fatherly smile. “I work for a much higher power than the Order. So, no, but I do work with them. The Order is a ... brotherhood of sorts. A group of humans who accept vampires as an important part of life's balance—” He held up a hand when it appeared she meant to object. “And we assist vampire's like Kieran here in pursuing the Horde, vampires who have gone feral."
She glanced at Kieran, who said, “I told you we're not all bad."
"That's debatable,” she muttered, but there was no real anger or offense behind her tone.
Her remark amused him. “You didn't seem to object earlier—"
"Kieran...” The warning came from her through gritted teeth.
He chuckled and kept silent.
Father Hardwin, ever the diplomat, reserved any remarks and chose instead to give Kieran a look that spoke volumes. He needed to revisit the confessional soon.
"I believe it was a feral vampire who killed your husband and child,” the priest said, turning back to Cheyenne. “I knew your husband and am sorry for your loss. But I must tell you that no vampire in his right frame of mind would risk exposure to break into a home and feed off an infant. Feral vampires, however, are known for the ultimate loss of inhibitions."
Her expression evolved as he spoke, changing from stunned to sorrowful to resolved.
"When humans are first turned,” Kieran explained, “the hunger for blood is great."
She shuddered. “I don't think I could ever do that. Drink blood from another human's neck."
Kieran studied her and refused to dwell on how much her obvious revulsion hurt him.
"I mean to suck someone dry like that.” She made a face and shook her head.
So it was the taking of life she objected to? “Not all vampires feed off humans,” Kieran said, watching her reaction. “Some feed only from their sires. It adds a certain dynamic to the relationship."
Her gaze collided with his until Father Hardwin cleared his throat and spoke up.
"The main thing to remember,” he said, “is that vampires don't need to drink much to survive, just enough to sate their thirst. Newly turned vampires are more susceptible to the lust to gorge."
Kieran said, “That's why it's important for their sires to be there to train them to survive and adapt, without taking human lives. If a vampire tastes death, drinks until the victim's heart stops, it causes something similar to a narcotic high—instant and very addictive."
Her gaze returned to him. “Have you ever...?"
"I know some who did.” He'd had the unenviable duty of tracking down one of his best friends, if one could consider best friends possible among vampires. “But, to answer your question ... No, I haven't."
Her sigh of relief was small, almost imperceptible, but he noticed it.
She said, “This Marsalis character doesn't sound like he's insane or feral—whatever you call it. You all speak of him as if he were a shrewd adversary."
"He is,” Kieran answered. “Marsalis is the type of vampire who sires such rogues for the Horde."
The priest added, “The Horde is what we call the often unorganized population of vampires gone rogue, but not all are feral. Some are highly intelligent vampires who use feral fledglings like pawns to accomplish their own personal goals."
"I see.” She caressed the handle of her Ka-Bar.
"Marsalis doesn't train newly turned vamps in the dangers of taking lives, so they unwittingly become feral, and by then it's too late to save them."
The priest added, “And their turning jeopardizes the safety of humans and other vampires alike, which is why the Order exists, and why we sent Kieran to make contact with you and your partner."
"About that,” Kieran said, “the male slayer in the videos was Cheyenne's brother."
"Was?"
"Mark was murdered,” she said. “By a vampire.” Her backbone stiffened, and she straightened in the chair.
"Oh. I'm terribly sorry.” The priest patted one of her hands, which was fisted on her thigh. “All the more reason for you to remain somewhere safe and to remove that video—"
"I'm staying at my sister-in-law's. What video?"
"The one we used to identify you."
Her brow furrowed. She turned her gaze toward Kieran.
"The last one you posted,” he told her. “You drop the camera, and your profile is visible for a brief instant."
"It was all a blur, I thought.... “Her words drifted off as she realized the impact of the information. Then, she shot up from her chair. “I need to get to Val's, get my computer set up, and—"
"Cheyenne,” Kieran began, but she wasn't listening.
"I've got to tell her, to warn her.” She started to make her way to the door until his hand on her wrist prevented it. “What?"
"That's not a good idea."
"Look, I don't have time to argue with you. If they can identify me, then they can identify my family. They're all I have left. You can call in the FBI, the State Police, or Superman for all I care, but I am not running to hide in the home of some total stranger and leave them alone and unprotected."
"I was going to suggest you stay at my place. We can have Val picked up—"
"And her kids. I have two nephews."
Kieran hesitated a second. Children were a curious complication. They tended to explore and get into places where they didn't belong, but he could see they were important to Cheyenne. He'd think of something. “And her sons,” he agreed. “I'm sure Father Hardwin could arrange to have someone from the Order take them to a safe house."
"I can see to it personally,” the priest offered.
She wavered, her teeth gently biting her bottom lip. “If you're sure?"
Kieran slid his hand down to interlace his fingers with hers. “Positive."
She gave him a small smile. He understood her concern, but all would be well as soon as they found and disposed of Marsalis.
"Let's go then,” he said. “Father, you'll call us when...?"
"Absolutely."
She tugged her hand free. “First, is there a restroom nearby?” She glanced at them with a shy, I'm-sorry-but-I-can't-piss-on-trees expression.
"Yes, of course. Turn down the hall to the right. The door is the third one on your left just past the water fountain."
"Thanks. I'll be right back."
While Kieran waited for her to complete a run to the ladies’ room, he sat back down and faced the wrath of a priest.
"What are your intensions toward that child?” Father Hardwin asked. The wrinkles marring his forehead were even more pronounced when accompanied by the frown he now wore.
"You make me sound like a pedophile, Father. Cheyenne is a grown woman, quite capable of making decisions on her own."
"Yes, and you are still too old for her."
Kieran laughed. “I'm not ready for retirement just yet."
"Kieran, I know you. You have a lust for ... well, if not life, certainly experiencing life's sexual excesses. I do not want to see that woman hurt. She's been through quite enough already."
Kieran's expression sobered. He had no intention of hurting Cheyenne. “I'll take care of her."
The priest leaned against his desk and folded his hands. “I know you will protect her. It's her heart I'm more concerned about. ‘Faith, hope, and love ... The greatest of these is love.’”
"I know, Fa—” The faint, familiar cranking of an engine outside stopped his words. He bolted from the chair and ran outside, with the priest in his wake, just in time to see Cheyenne's van turn right and disappear out of sight.
"Damn it to hell! God save me from stubborn women!” He paused, glanced at the priest, and said, “Sorry, Father."
"You're forgiven. Just go after her."
Kieran looked around and cursed again, only this time in his mind. “I can't, yet. I rode with her. My motorcycle isn't here, and my helmet's in her damn van."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Eleven
Anessa caught the faint scent of the human the moment she got out of the car at the cemetery. She was glad it hadn't dissipated entirely during the day while they waited for the sun to start its decline toward the horizon. It hadn't set yet, but none of them wanted to risk running into the slayer and her vampire protector while weakened by the midday sun.
The strongest scent came from an area near a tomb belonging to the Beauregard family. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of air.
"So, where is she?” asked one of her more impatient companions.
Anessa slapped him across the face, causing the vampire to snarl. At least she hadn't been foolish and scratched him. Drawing his blood would further dilute the human's scent and make her task that much more difficult.
"Shut up, Craig. I have to regain the connection. That takes time."
"Not that much time,” he grumbled under his breath, but he also took a precautionary step back until he stood closer to the other two and well out of her reach.
"Stand there and try to not look so damn suspicious.” None of them looked like mourners who were there to grieve a lost loved one.
She stepped closer to the doorway of the tomb and tried again.
Such blood links weren't constant, regardless of the amount of blood obtained. A vampire would go insane if that were the case, considering how many humans provided such sustenance over the course of a vamp's undead lifetime. For the vamp to locate a blood source, concentration was a must. He or she had to actively seek out the link and reconnect, like turning on radar for a few sweeps to pinpoint a target or the path it had once taken.
The connection to the slayer was very weak, but it was enough to get Anessa's feet moving in the direction of the road. With a hand out, she walked while scenting the air. The invisible trail reached a dead end at the curb where a fresh oil stain indicated a vehicle had been parked within the past several hours.
"Well?” This question came from Dagger. That wasn't his real name; no one knew his given name. Everyone called him Dagger because of his fetish for sharp objects.
Slapping him wouldn't be as satisfying for her, or as safe.
"She's not here,” she answered.
"We can see that,” the final companion, named Rico, chimed in.
Anessa scowled at him.
"So where is she?” Dagger asked.
"Look,” she said. “I'm doing the best I can. This is where she was last seen, so this is where we start."
Emboldened by the other two at his back, Craig took a step closer to her. “Did you really get a taste of her, or were you just lying to save your scrawny neck?"
"I tasted her blood! Okay?"
Dagger said, “Then you should be able to track her, identify her location anywhere within a hundred mile radius. What's the problem?"
"The problem is I only got a few drops. The other vampire had killed Gregory and Neal. I didn't have a lot of time before I would have suffered the same fate."
Rico scoffed at the news. “So now you've sentenced us all to die. Do you realize that? If we fail to find her, Marsalis will slay us. Repeatedly."
That thought sent a shudder through her system. She'd seen before the cruel fate of a vamp who'd crossed Marsalis and how the poor creature was whipped until its heart stopped only to be force-fed vampire blood and revived for more torture.
She stared at the trio, all three angry faces, and held up both hands. “Look. I got enough to know that she's not here. I mean, she's not in this city. We just have to use our heads and think. Where would she go? She's not from Baton Rouge, but she couldn't have gotten too far. If I can get within twenty-five, maybe even fifty miles of her, I should be able to pinpoint her location."
"That's if we head in the right direction from here.” Dagger pulled out one of his blades and thumbed the edge.
"New Orleans,” she said, making an educated guess. It was a large city, wasn't that far away, and it was where she'd go to get lost. Besides, she recalled Gregory mentioning his suspicions that the online slayer was from there, and he'd been good enough to find her before to set up last night's ambush. “There've been other vampire slayings there—some as recent as last month. It makes sense that she would go there next. Return to someplace more familiar."
Dagger sheathed his knife. “Let's go then. I want out of this fucking sunlight."
* * * *
Cheyenne barged in the moment Val opened the door.
"Whoa, Anne. Are you all right? What's wrong?” The apron around Val's waist and a smudge of flour on her cheek told Cheyenne she'd caught her sister-in-law in the middle of making dinner.
"No. I mean, yes, I'm fine, but, no, things aren't all right. Listen, Val. I screwed up.” She dropped to the floor in the living room and started pulling her laptop out of its bag along with the necessary power cord. “I didn't realize it, but I did, and now I have to fix it. It's a long story, but..."
"Mom? Oh, hi, Aunt Cheyenne,” said the oldest of her nephews from the doorway to the kitchen. Damn, they were growing up so fast. How old was he now? Twelve, no, thirteen. A teenager already. And his little brother was
... eight, or would be in another month.
Val turned toward the doorway and motioned her son back into the other room. “Honey, go check the pie in the oven. Pull it out if it's ready and stir the macaroni, will you? Your aunt and I have some things to discuss, but I'll be in there in just a minute."
His expression turned curious, but he shrugged. “Okay."
When he disappeared, Val faced her once more. “All right. Slow down. Start over. What do you mean fix it? Fix what?"
"The blog. I accidentally uploaded a video that could be used to identify me, which means I've put you and the boys in danger. I'm so sorry. Is the wireless router up?” While she spoke she powered up her laptop.
Val knelt beside her and put a hand over one of hers. “Stop."
"I can't. I have to get that video off the site before someone recognizes me. I mean someone already has, at least a couple someones, but maybe—"
"Anne, please. Calm down and start at the beginning. What does a video online have to do with me and my sons?"
Cheyenne scooted around to face Val who joined her on the floor, sitting cross legged. Taking a deep breath, she launched into the story of what she'd learned, what had happened to her over the past twenty-four hours—minus the part about having sex with Kieran.
"And you believe this vampire?” Val seemed skeptical, and really, who could blame her? She hadn't met Kieran. She'd never met any vampire, so she only knew what Cheyenne and Mark had told her.
"I know this sounds crazy, but you all thought the same when I swore that vamps existed in the first place. Remember?"
"Do you believe him?"
"Yes, I do."
"Then why did you leave him at the church?"
"I...” She hadn't taken much time to think about that when it happened. Her only focus had been to get here to warn Valerie and the boys. No, that wasn't true. It had been one goal, but not the only one.
The other had been to put some space between her and Kieran. When her heart skipped a beat at the idea of staying at his place, she knew she had to slow things down. Stop, get away, and think things through.
He was several centuries older than her and a vampire to boot. Even if he was one of the good guys, how could she be so damn excited at the idea of staying at his place? It was bad enough she'd screwed him in a cemetery; she shouldn't want to sleep with him in a coffin!
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