Bound By His Blood

by Jennifer August

  Sheridan tamped a bloom of satisfaction at getting the witch’s goat. Vampire’s. Whatever.

  “I’m sure it’s all fantastic sex—McCallister is very good in bed—and such but I’m also certain it hasn’t gone any deeper than that, has it? He hasn’t shared much of his past with you.”

  Sheridan shifted uneasily. “I know enough.”

  “Such as?”

  She snorted. “No way, lady. I’m listening to you, not the other way around. You got something to say, freaking spill it.”

  Ire flashed in Desdemona’s eyes and her butt floated off the chair again but she quickly regained control. She smoothed a hand over her hair. “Very well. I can see you’re as stubborn and prickly as Brian mentioned.”

  Sheridan rolled her eyes. “I’m guessing he said that because I constantly turn him down for dates.”

  Desdemona flicked a glance at the still slumped man before meeting her eyes again. “Good call. It’s all very complicated, Miss Aames.”

  “These things usually are.”

  The vampire flicked at her red fingernail for several seconds. The constant click, click, click was as annoying as a third-grader noisily chomping gum. Finally, blessedly, she stilled. “You are in danger.”

  Sheridan snorted again. “Duh. I’m locked in a room with a vengeful vampire and a dipshit errand boy. Okay, he’s no problem, but you...you could do serious damage to me.”

  A pleased expression lit up Desdemona’s face, taking her from beautiful to breathtakingly alluring.

  “What a sweet thing to say. Thank you.”

  “Ohmigod, really?” Sheridan wondered if all the years of death, destruction, and evil had turned the vampire’s brain to absolute dog shit.

  Desdemona cleared her throat. “My apologies. In this day and age, creating fear is such a rare thing. Today’s society is much less superstitious. They lack the proper respect for vampires. I blame Hollywood.”

  “Don’t we all? Can we get on with this?” Sheridan spread her hands. “Me, danger, yada, yada, yada?”

  The vampire nodded. “Despite what you think, I am not going to harm you. Today. You’re in danger from Paxton Barrett.”

  Sheridan decided to ignore the other woman’s ‘today’ qualifier. “Yeah, he made that pretty clear.”

  “He’s approached you?” She looked so shocked that Sheridan couldn’t help the small grin from creeping out.

  “Yeah. We had drinks and conversation at Vesper’s Bite the other night. That was before he blew his wig and killed Ernest the bartender, though.”

  Desdemona’s fists curled. Even in the gloom of the black sound booth, Sheridan could see the white stress marks on her knuckles. The tendon throbbing unappealingly on the vampire’s forehead also clued her in to the fact she was pissed.

  “That man is an abomination, Miss Aames.” Her voice lost all sultry attraction. Deep-timbered and as rough as a hangnail, she spoke with real hatred. “He is dangerous, maniacal, and not to be trusted. No matter what he’s promised you, it’s a lie. He must be destroyed.” Desdemona sucked in a deep breath and bowed her head.

  Sheridan inched her chair toward the door.

  Desdemona’s head snapped back up. “Do you know why he approached you?”

  “Yeah, he wants McCallister. He expects me to deliver him.” She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “I’m not doing it, either. Not to him, not to you.”

  “I’m not asking you to. But you’re mistaken if you believe his real goal is McCallister.” She shook her head, dislodging more of her beautiful ebony hair which she shoved back over her shoulder. “He wants you both.”

  All the air left the room. Sheridan felt as though she were trying to breathe through a vacuum cleaner hose. “No, I’m just a tool to get to McCallister.”

  “You’re wrong, Sheridan.”

  Hearing her first name on the vampire’s lips jolted Sheridan, threw her off-kilter, and made a scrambled mess of her brain. She clutched at her temples, closed her eyes, and focused on the image McCallister told her to, even though no noise infiltrated her mind.

  Calm returned almost immediately. She dropped her hands and stared at the watchful vampire.

  “McCallister won’t let him have me.”

  “You’re right. He’s very protective of his Consorts. And you, he will guard especially well.”

  “Why do you say it like that?” she asked warily.

  The vampire smiled. “You are special, Miss Aames. McCallister knows it as does Barrett. But they discovered you in vastly different ways.” Desdemona’s eyes actually took on a gleam of interest for half a second. “Did McCallister tell you about Sine Qua Non? The Life Legend?”

  Sheridan nodded. “He said it’s crap.”

  “No, it’s very real. I knew a Joined pair once who had it. Do you believe?”

  “That I’m the missing part of his soul?” Sheridan asked the question with intentional flippancy because she was scared as hell that her answer was a resounding yes. Despite her protestations, her anger, and her unwillingness to submit to him, McCallister had become as necessary and integral to her as breathing. “Maybe. But then, I’ve been accused of being a romantic.” She frowned and sat up a bit straighter. “Wait a minute. You don’t think that’s why Barrett wants me, do you? I can tell you right now there’s no way in hell I’m connected to that bastard. Uh-huh. Not happening.”

  “Rest assured, you are not Barrett’s Sine Qua Non. No, he wants you for a vastly different reason.” Desdemona lifted her patrician nose and sniffed delicately. Arousal, hunger, and curiosity flitted across her face with the speed of a lightning strike. “I can barely tell but I don’t have Barrett’s unnaturally enhanced senses.”

  Sheridan sniffed at her armpit. Fresh as the proverbial daisy. “What are you talking about? Tell what? What senses?”

  “Barrett has been experimenting on himself for the last hundred years, Miss Aames. His body was riddled with filth and disease when I turned him.” Desdemona shuddered. Her lips curled and her tongue swiped quickly across her beautiful mouth. “He is the only one I have turned and regretted. I still taste his foulness. The ailment seized when he became a vampire but did not leave his body, and he has sought a cure all these years. He was too frail at the turning to take on the traditional powers of our kind. One more reason I should have killed him when I had the chance.” A dark smile replaced the disgust. “I had plans for him. Each night I’d go to the cellar where he sat chained and drain him until a heartbeat before death before replenishing him. I planned on keeping him as a pet for a week, no more.” Her gaze turned inward and annoyance flicked quickly over her face. “I never expected his stupid daughter to rescue him. He sacrificed her! She should have hated him and revered me for saving her.”

  Though disturbed by the relish Desdemona displayed during the re-telling of Barrett’s torture, Sheridan scoffed. “Yeah, hey thanks for turning me into a vampire. Let’s party. Lady, you are cracked.”

  Desdemona shook her head. “You have a pert tongue, Miss Aames. The next time we meet I fear I will not have as much control as today.”

  The blunt danger in her tone made Sheridan swallow hard. She stayed silent.

  “Ah, you are trainable. Good.”

  Sheridan bit her tongue nearly bloody keeping her smart ass retort to herself.

  “Suffice it to say, some of the things Barrett has done over the years to himself have worked and some have not. I’ve learned he’s recently had excellent success with increasing himself physically and in ways that are very dangerous. I have waited too long to kill him and now, I fear, he is too strong.”

  “What does this have to do with me or McCallister?”

  “He loathes McCallister, even now after all these years. Revenge is the blood that fuels him. As for you...it seems you are very valuable to Paxton Barrett, Miss Aames.” Her face took on a superior, knowing smile. “Tell me, how many times have you been ill? In your entire life?”

  Thrown for a loop by the odd qu
estion, Sheridan frowned. “I had colds like anyone else,” she said.

  “I dare say, your colds lasted less than a day, no more than two and you rarely took any medication for them. Nothing more serious than that, correct?”

  “What does this have to do with anything?” Sheridan stood. “Look, I’d like to say this has been fun but my mother taught me not to lie, so whatever. I’m out.” She stomped toward the door, glowering at a now-erect Brian.

  Go ahead and try to stop me, you slimy bastard.

  “Miss Aames,” Desdemona’s voice cut through Sheridan’s determination.

  She stopped, turned, propped her hands on her hips, and stared. “What?”

  “I ask about your health because it’s apparently what draws you to Barrett. For whatever reason, he believes you are the key to all he’s sought these hundred years. He knows you are McCallister’s by now.” Her lip curled. “You reek of his scent.” She frowned and moved so quickly, Sheridan didn’t have time to dodge.

  One second the vampire sat in her chair, the next she stood directly in front of Sheridan. “Perhaps now McCallister will deign to turn someone. Yes, I like that. He has fought the urge for so long and to turn you, his soul mate, will be both joyous and painful. Fitting.”

  “No way,” Sheridan muttered, stepping back. “I already agreed to this Joining thing but no way will I let him turn me into a vampire.”

  Desdemona studied her even more intently. “When will you complete the Joining?”

  “We did,” Sheridan said then wished she could slap a gag over her own mouth. No need to spill any more secrets, idiot.

  “No, Miss Aames, you have not. Oh, McCallister might have taken you, but he has not given to you. He has not fulfilled this particular Joining.”

  Dread pushed the annoyance from Sheridan. She shoved at her hair, tucking it behind one ear. “What are you talking about? We did it, he bit me, done.”

  Desdemona drifted closer and this time Sheridan stood her ground. “This makes sense,” she said on a long breath. Her eyes closed briefly.

  “None of this makes sense.”

  Desdemona grabbed her shoulders, holding her with a grip that Sheridan was sure she could break if she wanted to. The knowledge kept her still.

  “Yes, you are his Consort now, Joined to him in the ways of old. But the true Joining of Sine Qua Non has not been completed. He trusts no woman and he does not trust you.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Really?” Desdemona lifted a perfectly plucked, arched brow. “Have you seen his face as he enters you? Does he allow you to hold him during the act of love? Or are you bound, helpless, and totally at his command?”

  Each truth-filled word punched Sheridan with the force of a prize fighter’s blows. Tears stung her eyes, filled her nose, and made her cough. She dug her face into her sleeve, wiping away the success of Desdemona’s taunts.

  The vampire shook Sheridan lightly. “Don’t you understand? This is my fault. All of it. I turned McCallister into a vampire but then did so much worse. I turned Barrett and created a scourge that now threatens us all. He seeks domination and immortality and he won’t stop until he gets it. You are his chosen weapon and he must destroy McCallister to get you. Barrett has realized the control McCallister so desperately prizes is now his greatest weakness. It makes him vulnerable. You make him vulnerable.”

  Panic flooded Sheridan. “You’re mistaken. Even if Barrett somehow got hold of McCallister, we’re protected. We have been Joined.” She repeated McCallister’s words with desperation.

  “You have his body, his honor, and his vow of protection. But you do not have his trust. That one element is enough to keep the Joining from fully succeeding.” Desdemona released Sheridan and pushed her toward the door. The motion was almost violent, as if the vampire needed space between them immediately. “Go now, Miss Aames. You must find a way to gain his trust or I fear we are all lost. Human and vampires alike.”

  Sheridan didn’t hesitate. She bolted for the door and down the stairs. She heard Brian’s lumbering footsteps behind her. She sped up, nearly skidding along the slick wooden dance floor. Bolting from the dark night club, she ran into a gaggle of people standing near a hot dog cart.

  She didn’t want to trust the woman but the truth of her words echoed in her heart. Trusting the poisonous viper who’d nearly destroyed McCallister seemed like the most foolish thing on earth and still...

  Having her on our side might not be such a bad thing.

  Sheridan saw Tess’s gleaming fender across the street, started forward, and then came to a full stop when she ran into the VW’s door. “Oomph,” she muttered as she rubbed her smarting elbow. Super speed was good but only if one knew how to properly use it.

  Wrenching open the door, she plopped inside, pulled the door closed, and locked the door. Her fingers trembled so badly, she dropped the keys twice before finally stabbing it into the ignition. She looked at The Dizzy Devil and watched as Brian frantically sped up and down the sidewalk, presumably looking for her.

  “Too damn bad,” she muttered. Without a backward glance, she put the car into gear and sped from the lot.

  She couldn’t outrace Desdemona’s words though. He doesn’t trust you. You’re vulnerable. He won’t give up control.

  He doesn’t trust you.

  Hot tears blinded her and she ran onto a curb taking a corner too fast.

  “Son of a bitch,” she yelled as she righted the car. Slowing down, she forced calm, deep breaths in and out. “What the hell do I do now?”

  Her first instinct was to find McCallister and confront him. Her second was to find Bert and get his input.

  Instead, she made her way back to her desk at the Metro. She found Steve, told him the lead was crap and, for reasons she couldn’t explain, he needed to fire Brian for being a piece of shit worm.

  “I’m also going to take the rest of the day off,” she said while he stared at her dumbfounded. “Tomorrow, too. Actually, I’ll be working from home. Safe and sound, just like you and McCallister wanted. Call me on my cell if you need anything.”

  Sheridan didn’t wait for a yes or no. She spun and blinked back to her desk, gathered her purse, notes, and a fresh pad then headed outside.

  Tess waited in front of the building where she’d left her but now sported a parking ticket. “Just fucking great,” Sheridan muttered. She crumpled the paper, tossed it to her floorboard, and headed for home.

  Her home.

  She was in no mood to see McCallister right now. She had a hell of a lot of thinking to do over the next few hours.

  And, if Desdemona was correct, the fate of the world just might rest on her decision.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Do you think Calliope is right about Barrett?” McCallister asked Brooks as they sat in the billionaire’s opulent library.

  Brooks had pulled down several books and flipped through them for the better part of the afternoon.

  He looked up, his blue eyes as unfathomable as the turbulent North Sea. “I hope not, McCallister. If she is and Barrett succeeds in imbuing himself with all the powers of our kind, he will be without equal.”

  McCallister frowned. “Surely the Brigade can deal with him? We should talk to them.”

  Brooks nodded. “Calliope and I have an appointment tomorrow to report her findings.” He shut the book with a snap, raked a hand through his ebony hair and grimaced.

  Unease trickled over McCallister like tepid water. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” Brooks admitted. “I’ve wanted to kill him from the moment I knew he existed and Calliope’s objectivity was destroyed the second he sacrificed her to Desdemona. You knew him best, before the turning. Do you think he’s capable of all this?”

  McCallister shifted in the luxurious chair but the velvet covering scratched like sandpaper. He rose and paced in front of the fireplace, before staring into the flames. “Why do you have the fire going in the middle of summer?”

  “I k
eep it lit for Valdór. You know how cold he gets.”

  McCallister smiled fondly. “I suppose that’s what happens when you’re encased in ice for three hundred years.”

  “Are you going to answer my question?”

  He sighed and turned around. “The Paxton Barrett I knew was firm and ambitious. He grew his business to levels that other men marveled at but that success only made him want more. More wealth, more prestige, bigger houses, better carriages.”

  “More power?” Brooks asked.

  “No,” McCallister replied. “Oddly enough, the man was never consumed by power. He felt having wealth and prestige inherently gave him that power. He never flouted it, either. He just exuded it.”

  A light, high pitched whine started in his ear and he frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” Brooks asked.

  McCallister’s heart suddenly pulsed with the force of a jackhammer. He staggered back, blindly seeking a handhold. Brooks’ strong arms steadied him at the shoulders.

  “Sit down. You’re as pale as a whiteboard.”

  The whine settled into a low thrum and pink dots bounced in his periphery.

  “Sheridan,” he said on a gasp. He pushed against Brooks’ grip. “She’s in trouble.”

  Brooks frowned and let go. “I’ll call my car.”

  The whine ended abruptly and McCallister’s heart smoothed back into a normal, even rhythm. The dots faded and he could feel the blood rushing back through his body.

  Sheridan?

  He sent the mental probe out, regardless of how idiotic he thought it was. Psychic connections were not a part of his genetic make-up.

  Closing his eyes, he concentrated on her face, her azure eyes and lush, full lips.

  Though she appeared full formed and nearly touchable in his mind, there was no response to his query.

  “McCallister? Do we leave?”

  He shook the odd interlude away and checked his watch. “No. It’s nearly eight-thirty. She should be at my house, safe and sound.” He managed a weak grin. “She’s probably ticked I haven’t come home yet. Dinner waiting and all that.”