Bound By His Blood

by Jennifer August

  “Sheridan?” McCallister’s sharp voice held frantic suspicion.

  “I need you,” she blurted out. Then, without warning, wrenching sobs tore from her throat. Her knees trembled, threatening to send her to the carpet at any second. She made it back to the couch, sinking into its depths, all the while trying to control her crying.

  “Sweetheart? Are you hurt? Sheridan, talk to me, damn it!” Panic rose with each word.

  “Not me,” she gasped out. “Bert. Barrett has Bert.”

  “What? How do you know? Where are you?”

  Sheridan finally managed to squelch the crying but a few hiccups escaped her as she replied. “I’m at home and I know because I just got off a video call with him. He looks awful, McCallister. Those goons worked him over but good.”

  “Did you notice anything else? Do you know where he is?”

  She heard rustling, then the light scratch of pen on paper. “What are you doing?”

  “Writing a note. I’m coming to you, but I gotta let Chief Holland know.”

  “Oh. Okay.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Her heart settled back to a halfway normal beat and she wrestled the panic into a manageable fear. “They told me it was Barrett.” She gripped the phone tight. “McCallister, they said Barrett would trade Bert for me.”

  “No fucking way,” McCallister snarled into her ear.

  She stiffened. “He’s my friend. It’s my fault he’s in the predicament. I’m not going to abandon him.”

  “Neither am I,” McCallister said. “But I’m not giving you to that bastard either. I’m going to call Leopold. Everyone will come to you but don’t open the door to anyone except me.”

  Relief slowly replaced the gripping fear. “Sullivan can open the door himself.”

  McCallister snorted. “True. Be there in fifteen, Sheridan.”

  “Hurry, McCallister,” she whispered. “I need you.”

  “Be strong, sweetheart. You have me.”

  The line went dead and Sheridan jumped up to pace again.

  Why did Barrett snatch Bert? Just to use as a pawn against her or was there something more to it? Did the old man have some vampire power that Barrett coveted? Would he inject her friend with one of his damn Dust potions?

  The questions drove her more than half crazy, though it was a state of mind to which she was rapidly becoming accustomed.

  Desperate to dispel the silence, Sheridan flipped the television to a rock and roll music station.

  The thumping bass, rhythmic drums, and kicking riffs of one of her favorite bands filled the air. She breathed a deep sigh of relieved appreciation. Her mind started to settle down and allow her to think more clearly, with less emotion.

  She trusted McCallister. He would save Bert and take care of Barrett, one way or the other. Though she didn’t have as much information about the rest of the vampires he hung out with, she was willing to put her faith in them as well.

  “I should make tea,” she said, checking the clock on the cable box. McCallister promised fifteen minutes and that had been nearly four minutes ago. Surely someone would arrive at any moment.

  In the kitchen, she taped three huge tea bags to a large measuring cup, added water and zapped the whole thing in the microwave for five minutes.

  As the tea steeped, she measured out a cup of sugar, added a quarter cup more for good measure then dumped it into a large pitcher.

  Six minutes remaining. Come on, McCallister.

  Sheridan removed the tea bags from the water then poured the hot liquid into the sugar-laden pitcher. She frantically stirred the mixture until the granules mostly dissolved. She held the pitcher under the tap and filled it to the top, gave it another stir then stuck it in the fridge to start chilling.

  The doorbell rang as she shut the refrigerator door.

  Her breath caught, she spun and flattened herself to the stainless steel fridge. “McCallister would have pounded on the door, not rang the bell.”

  Licking her lips, Sheridan power walked through the house and peeked out the peep hole. Sullivan Alexander stood on her stoop.

  He winked. “Heard you know a chap in a spot of trouble. I’m here to help.”

  She gripped the doorknob but McCallister’s admonition stalled her. “Where’s McCallister?”

  Sullivan shrugged. “Don’t know. Not with you, I’m assuming?”

  “No,” she said loudly. “Why would I ask if he was here?”

  “Women can be a bit daft, love. No offense.”

  “Plenty taken,” she snapped back.

  He rocked back and forth. “Are you going to let me in or do I have to stay out here in the burning sun? I could fry to ashes, you know.”

  She choked on a laugh. “McCallister said that was crap. He also said not to let anyone in until he gets here.”

  Surprise rippled over the vampire’s face. “And you’re listening? Huh, impressive.”

  “What’s impressive?”

  “Nothing,” he replied. His hazel gaze drifted downward and she let go of the doorknob.

  Surely he wouldn’t...

  “I could open it myself, if I had a mind to, you know.”

  She couldn’t stop the giggle this time. “Exactly what I told McCallister. Are you going to?”

  Though distorted by the fish-eye lens, his handsome face twisted with humor. “As I don’t relish having my arse handed to me on a platter, no. Believe I’ll wait right here for the chap. He can be quite unpleasant.”

  Sheridan leaned her head against the cool wood door. The absurd, shouted conversation was actually making her feel better. Had that been Sullivan’s intention all along?

  “Probably a good idea,” she said softly.

  Seconds later a warmth infused her and she looked out the peephole again. McCallister was stalking up her carefully edged sidewalk. She winced as his heavy foot sliced through a once-cheery row of daylilies. She didn’t have much of a green thumb but he was dicing her attempt like a professional chef julienned carrots.

  She gripped the handle, flipped over the deadbolt, and opened the door. Her heart banged against her rib cage. She wanted desperately to fling herself into his arms and lose herself in the security she knew he’d offer but she hesitated.

  Wonder what his position on PDA is?

  McCallister bulldozed past Sullivan, yanked her into his arms and held her tight. A wild tangle of emotions swamped her—relief, fear, fury, resolve. Sheridan wrapped herself around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Inhaling deeply, she sucked down his leather and sandalwood aroma then did it again.

  Her nerves seemed to settle in proportion to the breaths.

  “So, we gonna stand out here all day or what?” Sullivan’s tone held equal parts mirth and snark.

  Sheridan barely had time to gasp as McCallister stepped over the threshold into her hallway. He stopped, put her down, and looked back at Sullivan who hovered at the doorway. Unease had replaced the light humor.

  She waited but the other vampire didn’t come in. With a frown, she waved at him. “Well come on in, Sullivan. Can’t have you catching a sunburn, can we?”

  The expression on his face melted back into cock-sure arrogance. He sauntered inside and immediately cased the joint.

  She glared at him. “Hey bub, keep those light fingers to yourself.”

  McCallister snorted and Sullivan held up his hands, palms out. “No worries, Sheridan. I don’t lift from friends. Unless they really deserve it. Besides, I’m a legitimate businessman. Got my own company and everything. I’m the most trustworthy thief you’ll ever meet.”

  She rolled her eyes and headed for the door to shut it but caught sight of Brooks, Calliope, and Valdór making their way up the sidewalk. She stepped back but they, too, hesitated on the stoop. With an exasperated sigh, she motioned them in. “Come on in. I’m not as rich as Brooks. Can’t afford to air condition the outside, you know.”

  As with Sullivan, their expressions lightened. Suspicion b
it at her. As soon as the group trouped inside, she closed the door then turned slowly to pin McCallister with a demanding glare. “You lied, didn’t you?”

  He pursed his lips. “About what?”

  “You mean you lied about more than the invitation thing? What about garlic, holy water, and silver crosses?”

  Sullivan laughed. “What loads have you been feeding this girl, McCallister?” He nudged the detective. “Though kudos to you on her training. I’m shocked by how fast she’s progressed.”

  Heat burned Sheridan’s cheeks. Could they all tell? Is my growing desire for submitting really that evident? I’m going to kill McCallister.

  “No, I didn’t lie. Much. The invitation thing just makes it easier. Should it come to that, don’t ever invite anyone in you don’t absolutely know and trust.”

  “Well, I’m so glad that worked out well with you,” she muttered, still mortified by the idea they all knew she was becoming a submissive. That should stay private. Special.

  McCallister turned to Sullivan. “What are you talking about, anyway? What training?”

  The hazel-eyed thief tossed her an approving glance. “She wouldn’t let me in until you got here. Said you told her not to. Got to admit, old chap, didn’t think she’d bow down that quickly.”

  “Oh for Pete’s sake,” Sheridan muttered.

  The doorbell rang and she jumped with a light shriek, her nerves totally shot. She looked through the peephole and found Leopold lounging against the door.

  She slowly opened it, swept her arm aside and asked him to come in, teeth tightly clenched.

  He frowned as he complied. “Everything okay? What’d I miss?”

  “Nothing,” she said, tossing a glare at McCallister. “Is this everyone? No other surprises for me? I’m getting kind of tired of them.”

  Calliope approached and touched her sleeve. “I’m very sorry,” the woman said softly. “Since his turning, my father is not the same man.”

  Sorrow and sadness were embedded in every fiber of the vampire’s being, eliciting instant sympathy in Sheridan. Her annoyance slid away like mud off a greased pig. She caught Calliope’s shoulders and pulled her into a hug. The other woman remained stiff but after a long moment, her hands did reach up and return the embrace, however tentatively.

  Sheridan pulled away and stared at her, still holding her shoulders. “You are not responsible for anything he’s done. His choices are his own.”

  Calliope nodded but tears pooled in her ebony eyes. “He’s quite brilliant. That’s the scary part. He’s set his mind to harvesting all the best aspects of vampiric power as well as taking the DNA from those humans he deems worthy. Unfortunately his quest for perfection has led him to an even deeper level of madness.” She looked at McCallister and the Sheridan saw the sadness deepen to absolute agony. Her heart pinched with empathy. “You’re going to have to kill him, aren’t you?”

  Brooks was at her side immediately. He eased her away from Sheridan with one arm wrapped around her shoulder. “You don’t have to come, Callie. We can do this without you.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s my father, despite the monster he’s become. I must be there. Maybe I can reason with him.”

  Sullivan snorted. “Sweetums, the time for reasoning has long since passed.”

  Sheridan glared at him and Valdór elbowed him in the side. She gave the Viking a wide smile and his cheeks flushed as he turned away.

  Leopold cleared his throat. “Just so we’re clear here, everyone knows this is a damn trap, right?”

  “Yes,” McCallister said. “But we have no choice. We know he has Bert but not how many other victims might be in that lab right now. He wants Sheridan and he wants me, so we’re gonna give him that. The rest of you are just along as back-up.”

  “He’ll set his beasts on us,” Calliope said. “He’s managed to make them semi-intelligent beings. They have primitive forms of communication and some critical thinking skills.” She straightened, her expression moving from sadness to determination. “We are going to have to kill them all. They can’t be allowed to grow. Nature is nature and once set in motion, the consequences of tampering with it can be more deadly than we know.”

  Valdór nodded. “I believe we, as vampires, have proven that very well.”

  Now that the moment of action was upon them, Sheridan’s nerves rattled and her stomach pinged. She inched close to McCallister, worming her way into the safety of his arms again. He hugged her tight, resting his chin on the crown of her head.

  “We know what we have to do. Sheridan and I will confront Barrett. Leopold, Sullivan, and Brooks will deal with the hybrids. Calliope, you and Valdór will remain as near to the background as possible. Try to rescue Bert, but stay out of sight.”

  “The girl I understand,” Valdór said, “but why me?”

  “Barrett doesn’t know about you,” McCallister said. His fingers tightened on Sheridan’s arm and his heart started to pick up its pace. “If he did, you’d have gone missing long ago. He’s a scientist at heart. Experimenting on you would make his century. I’m not willing to risk you for his insanity.”

  Valdór tugged on his beard, a huge frown marring the plane of his forehead. “I do not like this. I’m no coward to hide behind a woman’s skirts.”

  McCallister sighed. “No one is saying you are. I’m just asking you to use caution. I need someone who can take care of themselves to look out for Calliope. I’m trusting you with that job, Valdór.”

  The big man continued to glare before his shoulders relaxed. “Your logic does not sweeten reality, McCallister.” His silvery-blue glance slid toward Calliope and he smiled softly. “But this one I will guard with my life.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” McCallister said.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “He’s definitely expecting us,” Sullivan murmured from the back seat of Brooks’ long town car.

  McCallister studied the brightly lit house as they pulled through the open gates. The square house appeared compact and minimal. Floodlights hung from each corner and spread near-daylight illumination on the gravel driveway. The bright glare exposed the peeling, blue paint and weathered boards underneath. All the windows were covered by dark curtains. “Bastard isn’t being shy, that’s for sure.” Even though they all knew Barrett was setting them up, walking right into the lion’s den didn’t feel right.

  He looked at Sheridan, more afraid for her than his own life. He’d spent the last hundred years dodging death, it didn’t bother him. But he’d just found her. He wasn’t willing to give her up yet.

  “His cockiness will be his downfall,” Calliope murmured. “Father believes himself to be both invincible and smarter than anyone else.”

  The car stopped and they all piled out. McCallister grabbed Sheridan’s hand. “Stay close to me. No matter what happens, stay close.”

  She gripped his fingers in a grip that would have snapped the bones of a lesser man. “Don’t worry, copper, I’m not plan on ditching you any time soon.”

  He managed a smile, brought her fingers to lips and kissed lightly. “That’s my girl.”

  Calliope and Valdór skirted the floodlights then disappeared into the meager shadows at the right side of Barrett’s house where no bulbs burned. McCallister directed the rest of them to the front door.

  “Bet it’s not locked,” Sullivan said.

  “You sound disappointed,” Brooks said, carefully picking his way over the gravel driveway.

  “I’m always looking for ways to hone my craft,” the thief replied.

  The banter ceased as soon as McCallister reached for the knob. The door slid soundlessly open.

  “Come in, McCallister. I have been waiting your arrival with great anticipation.” Barrett’s voice bounced down from an overhead speaker.

  Cautiously, McCallister stepped inside, keeping Sheridan crowded close behind him. Despite the absurdity of using a gun on a vampire, he pulled his service revolver anywa
y. None of them had any idea what sort of back-up Barrett had and McCallister wasn’t willing to take the chance of being unprepared.

  They fanned out into the hallway. The house was entirely silent. Nothing moved. The lack of noise was unnatural.

  “I’m down in the lab.” Barrett’s tinny voice came from another overhead speaker. “There’s a corridor at the back of the house. I assure you, you’re all perfectly safe.” A low chuckle vibrated eerily from the ceiling. “For now.”

  Sullivan and Leopold disappeared into the rooms ahead of them, reappearing moments later and giving curt nods.

  “Nothing,” Sullivan said.

  “It’s clean,” Leopold agreed. “I saw the corridor he’s talking about, too. It’s through the kitchen. Door is wide open. Smells funny, though.”

  They inched into the kitchen where a wide industrial door stood propped open. A small wire fan blew air from the hallway into the kitchen.

  “Funny?” Sheridan said. “That reeks. Like sour onions sprayed with some sort of cinnamon.” She tried to move past him, but McCallister yanked her back.

  “Stay in the middle and be careful, Sheridan.”

  She didn’t roll her eyes or huff, which shocked him. Instead she nodded once and took a few steps into the hallway. Leopold, Brooks, and Sullivan immediately surrounded her, which relieved McCallister. He knew his friends would watch over her. Even if something happened to him, Sheridan would be all right.

  He followed them down the stark white hallway. Overhead fluorescents flickered with their steps while broken tile littered the floor. The smell lessened as they reached the end and another door.

  This one was closed. Sullivan looked over his shoulder, one hand hovering on the steel handle. “Want me to try it?”

  McCallister drew a deep breath. He shouldered his way to the thief’s side, looked behind him and grinned to see Sheridan being shuttled all the way to the back of the pack. He returned his gaze to Sullivan and nodded sharply.

  “Do it.”

  The handle jiggled but didn’t open the door.