The Vampire King

by Heather Killough-Walden

  There were twenty-six now.

  Thirteen kings.

  And on the opposite end of the board, their smaller forms huddled together as if to hide from her sight, were thirteen queens. They were slightly different, all of them. But they were still indistinct, and there was that frustrating feeling about them; Lalura knew that if she tried to reach out to touch them, they would disappear.

  She squinted at them, noticing that one was separate. It was further forward on the board – as was one of the kings.

  With a sudden start unhealthy for one so old, Lalura woke from the telling dream and sat up in her feather bed. Her fine white hair waved about her face like a wispy halo. She exhaled a shaky breath and the hair around her face danced.

  A snow plow rumbled by outside her window. Lalura’s stark blue gaze narrowed with irritation. The noise was disturbing, but the sound was a secondary annoyance. What really troubled Lalura was what she had just seen.

  And what it had to mean.

  Now she understood. Now she knew who Roman’s mystery woman was.

  And now she knew this was just the beginning.

  *****

  Roman felt her presence drawing near. He always did. But he made no move to acknowledge her this time. He did not rise from where he sat beside Evie’s unconscious form, and he did not take his eyes from her sleeping face.

  “Well, I hate to be the one who states the obvious,” Lalura said as she came up behind him, her steps slow and labored, as usual. She came up beside him and looked down at Evie as well. “But you seem to have found her.”

  “Tell me what’s wrong with her,” Roman commanded softly. He could no longer make it past Evie’s barriers in any fashion, and she wouldn’t wake up. As the minutes and the hours passed by and the sun rose higher in the morning sky, his thoughts turned darker. He was considering things no vampire had been allowed to consider for thousands of years.

  Beside him, Lalura made a harrumphing sound and he could feel her sharp eyes land on him. “You don’t know?” she asked, clearly bemused by the idea.

  Roman shook his head.

  “Then I assume you can’t scan her or read her or whatever it is you boys call it?” she asked, putting two and two together the way he knew she would.

  Again, Roman shook his head.

  Lalura fell silent. Then she nodded and he watched as she raised her hand over the woman’s sleeping body. She spoke her own cryptic words, releasing tendrils of her magic that curled like wisps of white smoke from her palm to Evie’s form.

  The magic surrounded Evie, enveloping her in a shroud of glowing curiosity. Finally, Lalura lowered her hand, and the magic disappeared.

  “I suggest you tell me everything, Roman D’Angelo,” the old woman said. “And start from the beginning.”

  Roman gently brushed a lock of Evie’s beautiful hair from her forehead and secretly marveled at its softness. Behind her eyelids, her eyes moved, just for a moment, as if she were dreaming. Roman took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Very well.”

  He told her everything, from the rescue on the intersection to the way he’d studied Evie for two days, to the incident in the coroner’s morgue. He even told her about the cavern – not that he told her where it was.

  When he’d finished, he realized that he hadn’t moved from where he yet remained on the edge of the bed. The bed was a king sized bed that he hadn’t slept in for some time; the room was only one of the master bedrooms he possessed around the world. This safe house had simply been the one nearest to the hospital when he’d transported from the morgue.

  He realized then that he’d come here instead of to the cavern because he’d known that Lalura would come looking for him. He’d felt it in his bones. And he desperately wanted her help.

  Lalura processed the information in silence, and then asked, “You said she smelled coffee?”

  “Yes. That’s what she said before she fell.”

  “Interesting.” She paused another moment more, and Roman turned to glance at her. The old witch’s expression was deeply contemplative. Roman could tell at once that she knew something he didn’t and that for some reason, she wasn’t sharing.

  “Lalura, tell me what you know.” He didn’t want to make demands around her. He didn’t want to come on strong with Lalura Chantelle. But there was a desperation burning in his veins. It felt like fire, spurring on a hunger he barely recognized, and the scent of Evie’s magic blood wasn’t helping.

  He needed answers yesterday.

  Lalura’s eyes cut to him. “What I know?” she repeated. She cocked her old head to one side and pursed her wrinkled lips. “I know that coffee sounds good, but quite frankly I’ve always preferred tea.”

  For once, Lalura did not wait for Roman to provide their refreshments, but instead turned and muttered her own words of magic into the chamber’s still air. On the coffee table on the other side of the room, a tea set shimmered to life. The pot was steaming.

  Lalura moved away from the bed to make her way to the sitting area. “Roman, come and sit down and share a cup of tea with me,” she said.

  Roman stayed where he was, watching as the witch took a slow seat on one of the padded chairs and exhaled a tired breath. “We need to have a nice, long talk, you and I,” she continued, “and there’s no way in hell I’m doing it on my feet.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was the strangest holiday shopping Dannai had ever experienced. As “The Healer” and one of the more powerful witches in her coven, normally at this time of year, Danny, as she was called by her friends and relatives, would be preparing for the Winter Solstice. She would be baking, humming happy tunes, and creating fabulous, glittering decorations with a bit of magic. This had always been her favorite time of year.

  This year, however, a dark cloud hung over her world, casting what would otherwise be a joyous occasion into shadows of doubt. The Hunters were on the loose again, this time led by a man who apparently possessed magic powers of his own. And now she wasn’t only a witch – she was a werewolf.

  Danny glanced at her reflection in the shop windows they passed. She was three months pregnant but had yet to show. The image that reflected back at her – tall, slim, dark tanned skin, long black hair and multi-colored “kaleidoscope” eyes simply looked more healthy than it had in a long time.

  To her right, her best friend Imani walked by her side. The African American goddess was several inches taller than Danny and looked like a model. She was a witch as well, and the herald of their coven. On Danny’s other side walked “Charlie,” or Claire St. James, another werewolf. Charlie was their physical opposite in skin tone and hair with a very fair complexion, a slight smattering of fetching freckles, and long, thick strawberry blond hair.

  The three of them looked very different, but together they were a formidable team for good, and normally they were accompanied by two other werewolves who rounded out them out perfectly – Lily Kane, a “seer,” and Katherine Dare, the “curse breaker.”

  These girls knew how to take care of themselves. But since the Hunters had reformed and grown almost exponentially in numbers, the werewolf council overseer, Jesse Graves, had put into effect several new rules.

  No important member of the werewolf community went anywhere any longer without at least one enforcer in tow. The werewolf enforcers were the biggest and the strongest that alphas had to offer. Graves had been one himself at one time.

  Danny looked over her shoulder now and spotted the four enforcers that had been assigned to watch over her and her friends. The large men tried to hang back and blend in, but it was hopeless. They looked like weight lifting models, bulging out of their jeans and t-shirts, their thick hair and dark glasses all-too conspicuous.

  But then maybe that was part of the point. If the Hunters saw them first, maybe they would ignore the girls.

  “Oh, I want to stop in here,” said Charlie, breaking their companionable silence. The three girls stopped in the hall and looked up a
t the Hot Topic sign. “Remember that girl I told you about who was having a hard time in school since getting her werewolf powers?” Charlie continued, taking Danny’s hand and pulling her inside. “She’s way into Robert Pattison in white face paint. I’m gonna see what they have left here.”

  Danny shrugged and went along with it, and Imani followed behind. Charlie was a drummer in a band called Black Squirrel. As such, she was a bit of a role model for quite a few teenage girls, and since Katherine had unwittingly broken the werewolf curse that kept female-born wolves from having the same supernatural powers their brothers and fathers shared, a lot of those girls had been writing to Charlie via email and through snail mail to ask for advice.

  Charlie, of course, was thrilled to be able to give that help and more. A few of the girls, Charlie had sort of taken under her wing. It was one of the things Danny loved about her. Charlie was the toughest woman Danny had ever known. She’d been through so much pain herself, and yet she didn’t hesitate to assist others whenever possible. In fact, maybe it was because of that pain and not in spite of it that she fought so hard to keep others from suffering. She had empathy – more than a person should have to have.

  “Oh yay,” said Imani in a droll tone. “I love those really pasty white boys.”

  “Liar, liar,” came an incredibly deep voice from behind them. “Pants on fire.”

  Danny jumped and spun, as did Charlie. They hadn’t noticed anyone coming up behind them. But Imani couldn’t turn around, because Jesse Graves was standing at her back, and his arms had slid around hers, holding her in place.

  Imani looked up at the massive black man who curled over her and pinned her with his stark amber eyes. She blushed furiously, which was impressive for her dark skin tone.

  “Jesse!” Danny said, exhaling a relieved breath. “What are you doing here?”

  The Overseer looked up, not moving from where he held the coven herald in his strong grasp. “Proving to you that you are not in fact capable of taking care of yourselves,” he said softly, raising a single brow.

  “Oh?” said Imani, despite her obvious flustering. “I could turn you into a soft, cuddly chinchilla right now.”

  Jesse looked down at her and smiled a bright white, predatory smile. “Baby, if you want to cuddle with me, all you gotta do is ask.”

  He and Imani had been dating on and off for a few months now, and Danny was sure Imani knew all about “cuddling” with the man. Imani elbowed him in the gut, to which he just chuckled, but he did let her go. Then he smoothed his button-up shirt and straightened to his full, impressive height.

  Jesse had almost always played an important role in werewolf society. He was the Overseer now, the head of the werewolf council, and the most important position in the werewolf world. However, before becoming Overseer, he’d been a Sentinel. Sentinels were very rare, very highly trained enforcers used to guard VIP’s of werewolf society. Enforcers, in and of themselves, were the strongest and fastest of the werewolves. Jesse was the crème of the crop.

  The former Overseer had been Charlie’s grandfather, Alexander Kavanagh. Kavanagh had died destroying a very evil man, and in his last will and testament, he’d called for Jesse to take his place.

  Jesse wasn’t much for suits and never had been. While he was a Sentinel in the werewolf world, in the human world he’d worked as an attorney prior to becoming Overseer, and even then he’d only worn a suit when actually in court. But the role of Overseer called for at least a semi-formal dress almost all the time, so he wore the most expensive sports coats and slacks money could buy.

  Danny had to admit he looked good in them, too. Really good.

  “And there’s also the fact that neither Cole nor Caige would allow me to give you three permission to go out on your own unless I’d promised to check in on you myself,” Jesse told them.

  Danny’s eyes widened. The three girls spoke at once. “They what?”

  Jesse held up his hands in placation. “You all know the risks right now. You’re lucky you have this time. Don’t argue with me.”

  Danny’s mouth shut with a snap. She felt furious just then, but that could have been hormones, and anyway she could definitely see Jesse’s point. “Cole” was Malcolm Cole, the famous author, the rather notorious werewolf, and Charlie’s fiancé. “Caige” was Danny’s husband. Naturally, the men were worried. The Hunters had been ripping a jagged hole in the supernatural world for the last few weeks.

  Just a few days ago, they’d injured a few fledgling female borns so badly that the girls hadn’t known how to heal themselves adequately and Danny had been called in to do the mending. She possessed the unique ability to heal wounds by simply placing her hands on a wounded body and visualizing it as it once was. As far as they all knew, she was the only one among them with this talent.

  Jesse’s gaze squared on her. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  Danny was carrying Lucas’s twins. The pregnancy was throwing her for a bit of a loop, in all honesty. The last time she’d used her powers to heal had been more difficult for her than usual. She was drained, as every pregnant woman was. She hadn’t wanted to let on that healing someone had caused her weakness, but Lucas had simply known. And he’d begged her not to do it again.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “The twins are fine.” She took a deep breath and tried to let go of her mounting tension. “We’re all fine. Now you can go.”

  “Yeah,” Charlie agreed. “Before we kick the Overseer’s ass.”

  Jesse’s grin was still ear to ear. It wasn’t every person who could talk to the werewolf council Overseer in such a manner, but where Charlie was concerned, it was allowed, for many reasons. He settled his amber gaze on Charlie and shook his head. “Oh baby girl. We’ve been down that road before and I think we both know who’s gonna win.”

  Charlie’s own expression first switched to one of shock, and then slid into one of sly defiance. She and Jesse had definitely been down that road before; Danny knew all about it. The two were very, very close friends, and at one point – long before Malcolm Cole, Charlie’s mate had arrived on the scene – they’d been friends with benefits.

  Danny could feel the stares of a few of the patrons in the store now; Jesse Graves was a powerful man in every sense of the word, and anywhere he went, women tended to notice and men tended to get antsy. Now a few of the shoppers had overheard bits of their conversation and things were probably getting a little too public for comfort.

  She cleared her throat. “Seriously, Jesse,” she said, lowering her voice and moving forward so that she wouldn’t be overheard. “We really are okay. We’re well guarded.” She gestured to the men who were watching from the hall. Two had taken seats on a bench where Danny could have sworn some other guys had been sitting a few minutes ago, and two were on opposite ends of the hall, leaning casually against the walls. “You have enough muscle on us to keep – ” She was cut off mid-sentence by the sound of bullets thunking into metal and stone all around them.

  The Overseer was in motion at once, grabbing Danny and yanking her into his arms before he hit the ground with her, cushioning her fall.

  There was a brief silence in which the world tried to catch up with what was happening, and then that silence erupted into screams. Danny blinked, her hands immediately going to her stomach. Her werewolf hearing at once caught the separate heartbeats of her little girl and boy. They’re okay.

  Above her, there was a scrambling motion, fast and furious. Danny curled in on herself when she heard more bullet thunks along the walls and the glass storefront shattered. Jesse’s body was a protective weight above her.

  And then the noise stopped, and the world went eerily still. Jesse was moving immediately, coming to his feet with the grace of everything he’d ever been trained to be. Danny couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing; a part of her was too shell shocked to get up. It was slowly sinking in that someone had fired a gun on them in a public place full of innocent humans.

  The Hunters,
she thought numbly.

  “Danny,” someone said above her. Danny recognized the voice as Charlie’s. “Danny, you okay?”

  Danny rolled over, looked up at her red-headed, blue-eyed friend, and sat up. Danny had been through a lot in the last year, and she and the others were no strangers to violence. But for some strange reason, she felt slightly numb this time.

  Still, she knew she needed to reassure Charlie, and she managed to nod. Charlie patted her once and was up and moving again, no doubt either going after whoever had done the shooting or tending to anyone who might be wounded.

  Wounded.

  Oh hell, Danny thought, coming at once to her feet. She began to scan her surroundings. They were filled with broken glass, overturned displays, and chunks of plaster and paint. Jesse was nowhere around, and now neither was Charlie. They had gone after the shooters. It was like Charlie to do so; she never backed down from a fight. And as the Overseer, of course Jesse would.

  The enforcers the werewolf council had assigned to them had split up. Two were moving through the crowd, checking on people who had hit the ground. Two were standing on either side of Danny.

  Imani was coming up beside Danny even as she finished scanning her surroundings. “One injury,” Imani said softly. “No one was killed. Not a normal Hunter attack.” She turned to face Danny fully. “But I’m gonna have a hell of a lot of mind-wiping to do, and the one injury is actually pretty bad.” She pointed to a group of huddled teenagers kneeling beside a girl who was laying in a small puddle of blood near the back of the store.

  Danny’s heart flip-flopped. At once, she was moving in that direction, but one of her guardian enforcers stepped in her path. “Mrs. Caige, we can’t let you do this,” he said as she looked up at him questioningly.