“My hero,” she said as she wrapped her arms around him once more. “You’re the bravest of the brave to face Gus and his lair filled with broken and misunderstood relics from the past.”
Logan’s chuckle vibrated against her cheek as she rested against his muscled chest. “Ah, but it makes me happy. No more missions overseas to contemplate, isn’t that right J.T?”
J.T. grunted. He got Logan’s dry-witted attempt at reminding her once again how much he appreciated his present position as opposed to his former one as a Navy SEAL. Feeling like a voyeur, J.T. glanced away.
“Just the everyday pleasure of sinking my arms elbow deep in motor oil soothes my soul.” The grin was for Aubrie only as Logan bent to kiss her on the crown of her head. “Want a midnight snack?”
Aubrie leaned back slowly, scrutinizing Logan’s hungry gaze. “That depends. What did you have in mind, warlock.”
Growling deep in his throat, Logan bent, scooping her up in his arms. “Let’s start with an appetizer. How does a few minutes alone with yours truly sound?”
“Did you peek into my thoughts? Or, are you just feeling lucky tonight?”
Pursuing his lips as he gazed at her, Logan chuckled. “I’d say I’m lucky tonight.” He wiggled his eyebrows for her benefit.
The wicked grin Logan shot J.T. heightened his discomfort. “Okay, you two. Get a room, or go back to your room or whatever, I’m out of here.” He waved away their laughter as he turned to go. Glad for the exit excuse, he refused to let them see his envy over their kissy-face banter. “I’m getting queasy.”
Logan’s voice trailed after him. “Sorry, bro. Three’s a crowd. Catch you tomorrow night?”
J.T. threw up a hand in dismissal. “Yeah, sure. I’m out of here.” With the gushy laughter floating back to him, he headed down the steps. A mental picture of Aubrie and Logan wrapped in a loving embrace did not help his disquiet. Night watch could be a bummer, he mused. He had been on enough night watches to last him an eternity. On the other hand, what did he have waiting for him at home? The cat could take him or leave him. Simple as that.
His thoughts steered in the wrong direction. J.T. had once had a connection with Jessie, like the one Aubrie and Logan shared, hadn’t he? As the frozen ground crunched under his boots, he rehashed his dilemma yet again. A vampire did not have the right to love someone. There was sex, and it was good, but strictly for personal gratification, nothing more. To love someone was a formula for eternal heartache.
Glancing back up the hill as the lights went out, he ground down on his molars. In less than two weeks, Logan and Aubrie would be man and wife. He was happy for them. Truly he was. The image of Jessie and he did not signal wedding bells in his dead man’s brain. There was no future with Jessie. It was selfish of him to crave such a thing. He could not put her through the hell of growing old without him and expect everything to be a piece of cake. No, he would not do it, not even for the love of Jessie.
***
Darkness fell the next evening like an old friend. The familiar shroud of night enveloped J.T. as the sun had once charged his system. Preparations for the Netherworld recon were underway. The mission was to be a quick in and out. If things went as planned, he would be back the following night.
“You have everything you need?” Logan asked.
“Yeah,” J.T. said. Arriving as the sun set, he had assisted Logan in packing the equipment necessary for the trip. “I appreciate the firepower you and Gus put together. Have you gone through the portal with any of these bombs before?”
“Yeah, they hold up well. Just make sure you don’t take a direct hit from any incoming shots, and you should be good.”
“That’s all?” J.T. sarcasm dripped like honey off his words. He couldn’t help the quip.
“It is what it is.” Logan shrugged. “Want to back out?”
“Are you kidding? And miss the chance at old badass himself. Not a chance.”
At the portal, they stopped. The entrance to the veil between worlds rested in a weeded area behind Aubrie’s house. A pretty non-descript location, J.T. mused. Maybe that was the point. Sensing rather than seeing the portal was a perk, he decided. Another perk of being a vampire. Perhaps he would be able to recognize another such phenomenon once he was there.
“As I mentioned before, guarding the portal, well it’s a necessity since the Sultan’s arrival.” Logan handed off the explosives in the muted green/gray backpack. “You’ll see lots of them as you enter the tunnel, so don’t be spooked.” He raised a slim finger. “Sorry for the pun. They’re just refugees, like those in Afghanistan. The influx is on the rise, and from what we’ve seen, fewer are returning, so that means, things over there are getting worse. Our world is like freedom for those who can still function mentally. I will tell you to be on your guard, though. Suicide warriors the Sultan has created are slipping through.” He glanced at an emerging spirit. “Vetting has become a full-time job. By the way, thanks for your assistance with the graveyard shift last night. We all take turns, even Meagan, so another pair of eyes is appreciated. Most nights, Gus and I watch. We see better in the dark. Since you’re a night owl too, that helps.”
“I didn’t have much trouble out of the walkers last night?” J.T. adjusted his backpack filled with the essentials for the journey. Stakes and bombs. A pack of pig’s blood wrapped in one of Aubrie’s insulated bags for sustenance while he was on recon. “Glad to help. I have my way of dealing with bloodsuckers though.”
Logan nodded. “Good, but things are brewing. You can feel it in the air. The eyes are truly the windows to the souls of these walkers. Hard to keep the truth from showing, especially when you’re dead. They are scared, and it shows.”
J.T. straightened before huffing out a breath. “Well, touché, bro. Can you see my undead fear?”
“I didn't include you in that observation,” Logan shot back.
“I know. Sorry, can’t help giving you a hard time is all.” J.T. glanced at the portal. “You’d think the Sultan would camouflage the recruits.”
“Yeah, but they simply pass through without realizing they’re divulging anything more than their names and points of origin.” Logan glanced at another fleeing spirit. “It’s not a treasure trove of intel. Most of what we’re getting is useless to the mission. Still, if you witness anything suspicious, let me know.”
“Just like old times.” J.T. grinned before nodding. “Any place you’d like me to start? A hotspot of activity maybe?”
Logan’s eyes narrowed in consideration. “If the past trips are any indication, the portal opens at the base of Nybbas’ mansion. The place is a front for clandestine activity. Keep your eyes out for slave warriors. He’s creating them by the thousands if the travel from that side to this is any indication.”
“My pleasure. I’ve killed my fair share of warriors already. I think I can handle those guys.”
“I don’t want you doing anything stupid, okay?”
J.T. brow winged up. “Stupid? You’re kidding, right? I haven’t done anything stupid since that night in the sandbox.” Referring to the night, they lost Luke in Afghanistan, the vampire grinned confidently. “I’m a Navy SEAL, lieutenant. You of all people should know we don’t do stupid things.”
“Yeah, right.” Logan slapped him on the shoulder. “Be safe. I don’t know how much we’ll be able to help from here. So, don’t take chances.”
Giving his friend and Navy bud a salute, J.T.’s lips curved. “Copy that, sir.” With a wink and a cocky grin, J.T. wheeled before disappearing.
***
A sooty fog hung heavy over the entrance to The Netherworld. J.T. wished for a clearer picture of the inside of the veil between the worlds. The fates had other ideas. The sense of being drawn forward warred with his instinct for control. The path was made up of alabaster and crunched under his boots. The electrical charge set the hairs along his arms to attention like tiny ants on a march. When J.T. glanced back, he found the portal gone. The sensation of loss ed
ged his consciousness, like a cloud cutting off the sun’s rays. Up ahead he saw an opening. Beyond was Nybbas’ mansion.
Stepping toward the structure Logan mentioned, J.T. examined Nybbas’ home. The mansion was of 19th-century design with columns liberally covered in ivy and built like a fortress. He felt the slight tug of the shield seconds before he slipped through the heavy paneled front door. Apparently, the force field was for mortals only. The Sultan didn’t want the pesky nuisance of dealing with his own security system. As a vampire, he appreciated walking through the solid material with ease too, J.T. mused.
The foyer was done in heavy extravagance leaning toward tawdry. Gilded and draped, plants and velvets lounged everywhere. A bit stifled by the display, J.T. headed for the parlor. Here at least the meager outside light brightened the heavy, overdone décor. Consciously avoiding the light, his eyes took in the elaborate portrait hanging above the massive marble fireplace. The Sultan’s smirk of superiority spoke volumes. A momentary pang of frustration lodged in his chest. The one thing which kept him going was envisioning a reckoning, and it would be sweet. Stepping to a sideboard, he lifted a decanter of single malt whiskey. Pouring three fingers in a tumbler, he surveyed the room. Things could hide in full view in such a place. He sensed a presence even now. Turning slowly, he utilized his vision to seek out another being within the confines of the walls. A warm-blooded body stood perfectly still to his right next to the fireplace. A statue of stone, he mused. Perhaps, but behind the walnut panel, he could hear a heartbeat. Alive! Perhaps mortal. Not wanting to startle the being, J.T. strolled to the opposite side of the room.
An idle examination of the gilded artwork ensued. The being’s heat signal increased. Fear could do that to a human. As a vampire, he had witnessed the same many times. At first, the idea of a human lurking in the wall sounded foolish until he recalled Logan mentioning the girl, Meagan and how he and Duke found her behind the wall of the ballroom. Apparently, she had spied on them using an old-fashion, early 20th-century movie camera. Maybe the mingling of centuries was the Sultan’s way of keeping the curious off their stride.
The air whistled through a few dozen cracks in the wall, and J.T. caught a scent, one which stirred his heart for a second. Unexpectedly, the search became very personal. His throat thickened as he called her name. “Jessie?”
A meager cry, like that of a cornered bird, came from the dark interior between rooms. Wood scraped wood and feet moved in quick succession. Rather than loss the chance, J.T. stepped through the wall. Dark as pitch, the narrow passage was damp and musty. Groping in the darkness, he touched flesh and bone and clamped down hard.
The whimper turned frantic as the trapped bird tried to flee. A sharp pain made him flinch in response. Teeth sank into his forearm. A moment past before he realized, the bite was real. J.T.’s angry growl filled the tiny space. More whimpers before a well-placed knee sent him crumbling to his knees. The scurry of feet fleeing dissipated to nothing as J.T. gasped for air.
Thank the gods the pain ebbed quickly. Where had she gone? Following the scent, J.T. came up short within forty feet. The trail ended abruptly. “Jessie!” His voice reverberated off the walls. Engaging the sight, he cursed his forgetfulness in not using the talent when he had her in hand. Now, she was gone.
Stilling, J.T. rested a moment against the dank wall of the hollow passage. He had touched her. His Jessie. The roar startled the pigeons roosting on the roof. “Jessie!”
***
Jessie whirled. She had lost him. Not even breathing, she waited. Her name howled in pain sounded eerie. Jessie shoved at her hair as she searched the darkness for another call from J.T. Blinking in the dim light of the shallow hole she’d fed into, she decided her safety was short lived. Had to get out. Had to get back. But how? Her mind raced with the nerves rippling up and down her spine, like tiny spider’s feet. What was J. T. Leighton doing in the mansion of the Netherworld? Working with adrenalin, she listened. No sound came to her. She didn’t have time for a reunion.
Holding the amulet hanging from the gold chain around her neck, Jessie spoke the words necessary to leave the mansion. Light streaked past as she left her hiding place before shifting in time. Flashes of brilliant fire sped past at lighting fast speed. The wind whipped her clothing like a tornado bent on destruction. The gravitational pull on her body quelled any movement or sound. Luckily, she was able to breathe. She closed her eyes to the mala. Having performed this mode of travel countless times before, she marveled at the exhilaration she experienced every time she moved from one place to another. Time travel – a fanciful talent provided characters within the pages of fiction. Jessie knew otherwise.
Materializing in the middle of the dark gave a person the willies. The jungle of the Netherworld held such gloom. By now, Jessie expertly found her way without hesitation. She had traveled from the mansion to the hovels of the slave camp many times. In the skin of Rocco, the camp leader, she was afforded a strength Jessie did not possess. As a guardian, she was a self-proclaimed watchdog for the poor souls enslaved there. She was grateful for the power of Rocco. Not a night went by that some misguided adventurer didn’t find their way into the Sultan’s trap, becoming his latest victim. Like flies to bate, he lured them in.
Her self-guided mission became saving those she could from his grasp. The fact so many slipped through her fingers hurt in a very personal manner, for the image of her parents, hostages of the Sultan’s, was like a festering wound in her side. So far, Jessie had not been unable to locate his prison.
Glancing over her shoulder, she found no sign of J.T. Her heart thudded in her chest. She had touched him. But not J.T. – not like she remembered. No, he was not the same man she had fallen in love with before. Unable to put the finger on the reason, she leaned against a tree, breathing hard and wiping sweat from her brow. A few seconds passed before the realization came to her. The last two years had carved a new hardness into his features. An indrawn breath and she found one thing she was sure of - the fact her body still remembered his voice.
How foolish the idea, her brain complained? From the gloom, the jungle’s creatures called out to her. It was the distraction she needed. The bitter little laugh was her moment of self-indulgence. Closing her eyes, Jessie concentrated on regaining her calm. No, he was not here to hurt anyone, or he would have done so back at the mansion. This much she understood. Could she trust him? Time would tell, she decided.
Continuing the trek back to the encampment, Jessie considered J.T.’s reaction to finding her in the walls of the mansion. The shock must have been the reason he failed to keep her pinned because the strength in his hands was impressive. She would be more prepared when they met again. Contemplating things as she walked, Jessie shoved at the memories of the feel of his arms around her. A glance back proved she was alone. A twig snapped underfoot. Jessie whirled to examine the darkness behind her once more. The mental image of his reaction to finding her spying was not something she enjoyed. But necessity dictated her actions these days. “What are you up to, J.T.?” Frowning at her own question, she slowed. The perimeter of the encampment came into view. She stepped from the shadows into the burgeoning light as Rocco.
Chapter 5
A muscle jumped in J.T.’s jaw. The anger erupted in a blinding black haze. He stumbled before righting himself. Which way had she gone? The deep seeded longing J.T. kept under lock and key wasn’t supposed to burst forth like a geyser, but it did. He lashed out by putting his foot through the wall. Wood splintered before raining down all around him. A sense of inadequacy filled him like the rush of water from a broken dam. J.T. staggered backward, falling on a table, sending the piece splintering in all directions. Dazed and frustrated, he kicked over a brocade sofa. Finding no solace in the move, he glanced at the mirror over the fireplace. No reflection appeared in the silvered surface. The sound of glass shattering echoed through the room. Cut and bleeding, he didn’t even flinch.
Wasn’t he a vampire? Wouldn’t he heal? From
everything except being dead, he mused. Snarling, J.T. lashed out again. This time, the object of his rage was a hefty floor vase of fresh flowers. “Where are you?” he yelled at the top of his lungs as the weighty vase shattered against the fireplace bricks. The angry haze dissipated as quickly as it materialized. Seething with ineptness, he staggered forward, leaving a debris field littered with glass shards, broken crockery, splinted wood and crushed flowers in his wake. The bedroom on the other side of the hole in the wall beckoned. Anger narrowed his eyes, stiffened his jaw.
Done again in heavy Victorian, the room was aglow with light from numerous crystal lamps situated around the room. Stumbling through without regard for the destruction, he scanned the room. “Jessie?”
Her scent lingered. The image of her stirred J.T.’s blood. The room's appointments went flying as the fury leaped inside him once more. Without waiting for a rational explanation to surface, he reached down, taking the side of the bed and flipping the heavy antique onto its side. Muttering an oath, he stomped to the middle of the room. “Come out now. I warn you. I’ll find you wherever you are.”
The room was silent.
Inhaling sharply, J.T. circled in place, his hands fisted at his sides. Had to clear his mind. Had to think. Vague snippets of Logan’s description of The Netherworld came back to him. When they had discovered Nybbas, the company found a perfect utopia. Mentions of secret corridors hidden within the walls where the Sultan used warrior guards and hostages to spy on unsuspecting trespassers warned him of more possible traps.
Jessie was gone. This much he felt in his bones. She had lingered a few seconds too long behind the wall before bolting when confronted. J.T. studied his arm where the last traces of her bite faded.
Frustration bubbled in his blood. Wheeling, he reentered the narrow passage between the adjoining walls. There he found a crude stool along with a small, antique movie camera. The filmstrip was telling. Jessie had used the camera to capture his entry into the house. Thank the gods, she had not had time to get the reel back to the Sultan. J.T.’s whereabouts in the Netherworld may still be a secret. Time would tell, he mused. Dropping the camera, he smashed it under his booted foot. Number one on his list of things to do while vacationing in the Netherworld was confiscate the others and destroy all he found.
Blood & Magic Page 6
