Vampire Bound: Book Two

by R. A. Steffan

  He nodded. “I imagine you’re right. Anyway, here’s a phone. If you take it with you into Dhuinne it’ll just get fried, but you should still activate it and transfer your contacts.”

  “Are we going to use this place as a base of operations, then?” I asked. “Leave everything here for when we get back?”

  If we get back, offered a treacherous little inner voice.

  “Important stuff like phones can wait in the car,” he said. “It’ll be parked within easy walking distance of the mound that houses the gate, and it’s not like this is a high-crime area. Our next move after that will depend largely on what we find out while we’re in Dhuinne.”

  “Makes sense,” I said. “Okay, since it looks like my stomach contents aren’t going to make a reappearance, I’m going to try to get some rest. You know where to find me if anything interesting happens.”

  He drew breath, only to hold it as though rethinking what he was about to say. “Sleep well, Vonnie.”

  TWENTY

  I DIDN’T SLEEP well. Instead, I tossed and turned, dozing until a dream or an unfamiliar noise woke me. On the positive side, all the vampire blood I’d drunk had banished my headache as though it had never existed. On the less positive side, it was also boosting my magic to levels that took a fair amount of concentration to control.

  At one point, I jerked awake from a half-formed dream about Leonides to the faint smell of smoke in the room, quickly managing to focus the energy back through the crystal before anything around me actually burst into flame. At another point, I had a moment’s worry over what pipes might be in the walls near my room, as cold fury over what had been done to my sad little family washed over me.

  By the time the sun rose in Ireland, my body was convinced it was finally time to go to bed after finishing a late shift at the nightclub in St. Louis. I rose groggily, stumbling to the bathroom for a shower. It didn’t help much.

  Neither did finding Leonides already up and about, looking disgustingly awake and put-together as he spoke on the phone to someone about arranging another delivery. He looked up as I entered the sitting room and frowned as he gave me a head-to-toe once over.

  “Jet lag?” he asked, after he’d ended his call and slipped the phone into his pocket.

  I blinked as my slow wits registered what he was wearing—black military style pants with zippers and pockets, topped with a black henley that clung to his broad shoulders and the flat planes of his chest like a second skin. I jerked my eyes back to his face, not sure why a simple change of clothes should make such a difference in my perception of him.

  “Um... yeah,” I replied. “Still running on St. Louis time, I guess. I’ll be fine once I get some coffee. Maybe I should ask for Irish coffee?”

  “Probably not at this hour,” he said. “Can you manage more blood?”

  I quailed. “After breakfast, please. I really need something else down there first, to soak it up.”

  He nodded. “I’ve got a grocery delivery of dried rations and bottled water on the way. After that, it’s just a matter of waiting for Gallagher to get back to us.”

  “Right,” I said, ticking off the to-do list. “Breakfast. Blood. Waiting for Cillian. On it.”

  Thankfully, there was coffee, and it was good. There was also a fairly spectacular spread of sausage, eggs, baked beans, sautéed mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, and something called bubble and squeak. Given that I kind of felt like I had a hangover, it was just the thing—even if it was way beyond what I would normally have eaten at a morning meal.

  The grease seemed to do a decent job of buffering my morning tonic of vampire blood, too, which was helpful. After multiple days of downing Leonides’ blood, I was starting to feel the same sort of strange buzz beneath my skin that I’d experienced after drinking Rans’ older, supercharged blood. Once we were alone, I told him as much.

  “Good. Hopefully that will end up being useful,” he said. “Speaking of which...”

  He pulled out a metal flask—the kind rich alcoholics carried around to keep the buzz going in circumstances where carrying a glass of booze around wasn’t socially acceptable.

  I raised an eyebrow. “I was actually kidding about the Irish coffee, you know.”

  He gave me an unimpressed look. “It’s more blood, Vonnie. For emergencies.”

  My other eyebrow lifted to join the first, as I considered what might constitute a vampire-blood emergency. “You realize that if I carry this around for any length of time, it’s going to turn into one great big, nasty clot with a bunch of bacteria reproducing in it.”

  “If it were human blood, yes. But it’s not, and it won’t. Let’s just say there’s a reason vampires are well preserved.” His tone was tart.

  I accepted the curved flask like it was a live snake. “Um, okay. I’ll take your word for it, I guess. So, any news from Cillian yet?”

  “Not yet, no. I assume he’ll have passed on the message to a Fae on this side of the gate, who then has to relay it to someone in the Court. Bureaucracy is a universal constant, from what I’ve seen.”

  Since I was finally starting to feel like all my brain cells were firing, I glanced out the nearest window to gauge the weather, and then back to my companion. “Take a walk with me. Before we do this, I want to know more about this acquaintance of yours who’s in trouble. Nigellus’ dangling carrot.”

  “Fair,” he agreed. “Grab a jacket. It’s brisk outside.”

  * * *

  We wandered along a track peppered with hoofprints, the imprints of individual horseshoe nails visible in the damp loam. It was damp and chilly, but unlike yesterday the rising sun peeked intermittently through the clouds. It brightened the grassy fields around us to the deeper shade of green that had given Ireland its nickname of the Emerald Isle.

  “The carrot’s name is Albigard,” Leonides began. “He helped in the battle against Myrial, and Teague’s predecessor, Caspian, when the pair of them were conspiring to destabilize the current balance of power between Hell and Dhuinne. In fact, his presence may well have been the deciding factor that turned the tide in our favor.”

  I thought over the conversations I’d heard during the previous few weeks. “So, is he the Fae acquaintance Nigellus talked about, that night when he came to the club for the first time?”

  “Yes,” Leonides confirmed. “You know how, when governments start to go wrong, there are scads of people who look the other way and go along with things, because it’s easier? But there are always some folks who stand up in protest, even when doing so puts them in danger. He’s one of those.”

  I pondered that for a moment. “He sounds like a good man.”

  A faint, wry smile tugged at one corner of Leonides’ lips. “Nah, he’s a bit of an asshole, to be honest. Occupational hazard for a Fae, from what I’ve seen.”

  Despite the casual insult, I was almost sure I could detect a hint of affection lurking behind the words.

  “Do we know what kind of trouble he’s in?” I asked.

  “I can infer. He killed a member of the Unseelie Court in battle. Doesn’t matter that the guy he offed was a traitor—the Fae don’t tolerate murder by one of their own. They also don’t lie, so as soon as it occurred to someone to question Albigard, he will have told them exactly what happened. And after that, things probably didn’t go well for him.”

  I shivered a bit at his tone. “Are we talking ‘Fae prison’ here, or ‘firing squad at dawn’?”

  Because as bad as I felt for the guy, I wasn’t at all sure more complications were what we needed during this trip.

  “It’s unclear,” Leonides said grimly. “All Nigellus knows is that Albigard returned to Dhuinne and hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”

  I considered my next words carefully. “You... do realize that Nigellus is just using this as a way to get you to do what he wants, right?”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” Leonides replied. “He’s a demon. Manipulation is kind of their thing.”

  “As long
as we’re on the same page with this,” I told him. “Because I get the impression what we’re doing is risky enough without adding an attempted jailbreak to the mix.”

  “Nigellus just wants some reconnaissance on the situation,” he said. “I’ll try to find out if Albigard is alive or dead, and maybe where he’s being kept, if it’s the former.”

  I held my peace, knowing that it would make me a terrible hypocrite if I tried to tell Leonides not to search for answers about the fate of his friend while we were in Dhuinne. I just wish I had a better idea about what sort of reception we could expect from the Seelie Fae. Would they welcome Leonides as a possible ally after he helped get rid of a demon? Or would they escort us into their realm and immediately throw us in chains?

  The uncertainty was galling.

  We returned to the guesthouse, where Leonides accepted delivery of an order of prepackaged dehydrated food along with a case of water in plastic bottles. The two of us packed it efficiently inside a pair of backpacks that had apparently been part of the first shipment of stuff to arrive, along with a couple changes of clothes, and the most basic of basic toiletries.

  After that, it was a waiting game.

  Out of sheer desperation, I ended up reading a dusty book pulled from one of the shelves in Mrs. O’Murtagh’s sitting room. After a couple of hours, it became clear that I wasn’t retaining much of anything from the world’s most boring tome about the Scottish monarchy, circa 843-1651 A.D. Instead, I ended up falling asleep on the couch, further confusing my already confused body clock.

  I woke to find the sun slanting low through the window, and voices approaching from the entryway. Rolling up from my half-slouched position, I was greeted by the sight of our hostess entering with Cillian Gallagher tagging along behind.

  “Oh! There you are, dear,” Mrs. O’Murtagh said. She turned to address Cillian. “Stay here. I’ll just go knock on Mr. Williams’ door.”

  It took me a confused instant to remember that we weren’t traveling as Vonnie Morgan and Guthrie Leonides. We were traveling as Karen O’Rourke and Jeff Williams. Our hostess bustled out, leaving me alone with the Fae lackey. Predictably, his eyes darted everywhere except to meet mine, as he stood hunched near the door with his hands shoved in his pockets.

  “How does someone end up working as a gofer for the Fae, anyway?” I asked, curiosity overcoming me.

  He flinched visibly. “My family’s served the fair folk for as long as anyone can remember. It’s just what we do.”

  I licked my lips. “And... Nigellus?” I prodded, aware that I was probably treading on dangerous ground.

  But Cillian only frowned in confusion.

  “Who?” he asked.

  I was saved from getting in any deeper by Leonides’ arrival. His eyes met mine for a moment before moving to the newcomer. “What’s the word?” he demanded without preamble.

  Cillian shifted nervously on his feet. “I’m to take you to the Mound of the Hostages. Someone will meet you inside.”

  That was honestly a bit ambiguous for my tastes, but Leonides only nodded.

  “Fair enough,” he said. “Vonnie? You ready?”

  And if that wasn’t a loaded question...

  “Sure, yeah... just let me run to the restroom and splash a bit of water on my face. Then I’m good to go.”

  “I’ll load the car and meet you outside,” he replied.

  I sidled around Cillian, giving him what was probably an unnecessarily wide berth. My pulse was already picking up, adrenaline starting to flow through my system. The familiar face that looked back at me from the bathroom mirror was pale, and dark circles underlined my eyes. I could try to put it down to the jet lag, but the truth was—this situation was aging me. I needed answers, damn it... I needed my son back.

  In fact, my need was so great that it meant I was willing to travel to another realm full of people who considered humans little more than cattle, if it meant I might get some of those answers. And, because that wasn’t crazy enough, I would be making that trip at the side of a man—vampire—with a self-avowed death wish.

  I still couldn’t untangle all of Leonides’ motivations. He wanted to help me get my kid back—I did believe that. He wanted to find out the fate of his friend. I just... wished I could see past the wall he put up between himself and the rest of the world. I didn’t understand him, and that made me antsy as hell.

  But there was no time for any of that now.

  I splashed cold water over my puffy face and blotted it dry. A quick check of my room showed that Leonides had already retrieved my belongings to put them in the car. After wavering a moment, I decided against texting Len one final time—mostly because I suspected that a quick Google search of the burner phone’s number would show I was in Ireland. The last thing I wanted was Zorah or Rans rushing straight here and getting themselves into trouble with the Fae—not when Leonides and I had just been invited in, and might end up getting to Dhuinne and back with no real problems.

  Squaring my shoulders, I headed downstairs and out the front door. The Audi was waiting outside, as was Cillian’s comical little eco-car.

  “All set?” Leonides asked.

  I opened the passenger door, trying to ignore the fact that it was on the wrong side of the car. “As I’ll ever be.”

  We strapped in, and followed Cillian down the driveway toward the road. Rather than turning left toward the highway, he turned right and led us further down the tree-lined lane, turning right again when it terminated in a T-junction. Our surroundings opened up, and the scenery truly was lovely. Perhaps it was just my mind playing tricks, but I thought I could sense a sort of aura surrounding the place.

  Magical.

  “Do you feel anything different about this area?” I asked.

  “How do you mean?” Leonides asked, cutting a sideways glance at me.

  I shook my head. “Hard to explain. It’s like there’s unfocused magic just floating around free in the air.”

  “Not really, but I suppose it’s not a stretch that the area near a weak spot between two worlds might have a bit of... leakage, I guess you’d call it.”

  I couldn’t stifle my snort. “’Leakage’? Way to make it sound like a diaper that needs to be changed, or something.”

  “A poet I am not,” he pointed out. “But if it’s Fae magic, and you can sense it but it doesn’t bother you, I imagine that counts as a good sign.”

  I shrugged, happy to take any good signs that came our way.

  Ahead, I could make out a cluster of buildings along the road, with a handful of cars parked around them. Set back from the road on our left was a charming little church with a gothic bell tower, maybe three stories high. The church was surrounded by trees that looked like they measured their ages in centuries, and while it was cute and interesting in the daylight, I suspected the place would be creepy as hell at night.

  Leonides followed Cillian into a lot beyond the biggest of the buildings and parked next to him. The place was a newer looking two-story structure painted white and olive green, which proclaimed itself to be a cafe. Several people wandered along the sidewalk out front, where a lady in an old converted milk float was selling coffee and other drinks. An older looking gift shop with stone walls and a cedar-shake roof huddled next to its more modern neighbor.

  “This doesn’t seem very... secret?” I hazarded, looking at the cheerful tourist crowd.

  “Hiding in plain sight,” Leonides suggested. “I suppose it helps, being able to influence human minds to believe there’s nothing out of the ordinary here.”

  Cillian slammed his tiny car door and stood fidgeting next to it, waiting for us to get out. I took a steadying breath and stepped out of the car, aware of Leonides doing the same. He retrieved the two backpacks filled with food, water, and clothing, handing one to me. Then he locked the car and placed the key and fob in a small black box with a sliding lid.

  I’d seen those before—magnetic boxes for hiding a spare key. Indeed, he made sure I w
as watching as he leaned down and stuck it to the frame beneath the rear passenger-side wheel well.

  “Just in case,” he said.

  Our native guide still looked antsy. “We should go,” Cillian said, crossing and uncrossing his arms.

  It was bad of me to even think it, but going to Dhuinne would almost be a relief at this point, if it meant getting away from the unwitting Fae double agent.

  “Lead the way,” Leonides said.

  We hefted our backpacks and followed Cillian back the way we’d come, tourists veering unconsciously away from the guy as we walked past the cheerful cafe and shop. Further down the road, a track veered off to our right, leading into a field abutting the little church I’d seen from the car earlier. The grassy expanse didn’t really look like much, though I thought I could make out some signs and markers dotted around the area.

  As we got further into it, though, I noticed the odd topography of the place. The ditches weren’t just ditches, and the rises weren’t just rises. It was as though huge snakes were buried just beneath the surface, coiling around the area, sleeping. Some distance away, a bevy of tourists gathered around a single, monolithic stone jutting up from the ground, pointing and taking pictures. Cillian led us in the other direction, toward the church.

  As we got closer, our surroundings got quieter. There were no other people on this side of the field, which was larger than it had seemed from the road. Ahead of us lay an odd little hillock—just a dome of grass-covered earth standing in the middle of nowhere.

  My feet stuttered to a halt as though something were pressing into me, holding me back. Beside me, Leonides also came to a rather abrupt stop.

  “What is that?” I breathed.

  Cillian had come to a standstill a few steps behind us. His voice was low and reverent as he replied.

  “The Mound of the Hostages,” he said. “The only active gateway from Earth to Dhuinne.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  FROM HERE, I could make out a sort of notch carved out of one side of the hillock, with a partial stone wall and a door inset in the gap. The door was a gaping black maw, a featureless opening blocked by a rough metal gate. The barrier didn’t look like a modern addition. The metalwork was a bit irregular, a bit asymmetrical—as though it had been hand-wrought.