The Rhiannon Chronicles

by Maggie Shayne

  The two men walked—Roland hobbled, really, using his tree limb staff in place of his missing leg—around the barn’s perimeter. Devlin was limping as well, due to being shot in the leg earlier. They must make an interesting sight, Roland mused. Two gimpy vampires, staggering through the darkness, one of them half blind.

  The night was a beautiful one, cloudless and star-spangled with a brisk autumnal chill. Every nocturnal creature in the forest around them seemed to be in the mood for singing. Frogs and grasshoppers and even an owl joined in the choir. It was soothing to Roland’s senses.

  “So what did they do to you in there, Roland?” Devlin asked.

  Roland had expected the question. It was one Rhiannon had been deliberately not asking, but he’d heard it in her mind over and over. “The truth is, I don’t know. But....” He sighed. It was an expression of frustration, not a mechanism of breathing. He didn’t have to breathe.

  “But what?” Devlin prodded.

  Roland looked at the forest around him, trying to capture its serenity for his own. “I don’t know. But something happened. My head hasn’t stopped aching. There’s an incredible pressure behind my right eye and it’s all but blind at the moment. I’m short-tempered and impatient, and–”

  “You? Short-tempered and impatient?”

  He met his friend’s eyes, knew he was teasing just a little. Trying to lighten up Roland’s dark mood. “Yes. Me. And there’s something else. A presence. I have the constant feeling that if I should turn and look over my shoulder, I’ll see someone there, right behind me, watching me. And yet, of course, there’s not.”

  Devlin frowned very deeply. “Have you told Rhiannon about this?”

  “No, and I don’t intend to. I’m going to give it some time. It will probably pass. Perhaps it’s some sort of post-traumatic stress.”

  “Post-traumatic stress. From a battle-seasoned knight, a thousand years old?”

  “Eight hundred sixty-seven,” Roland corrected. “And that is old enough for me to know the best course of action here. Rhiannon, the children...they need a rest from all the worry and strain and constant pursuit. I cannot put any more on them just now.”

  Devlin nodded as if he understood that.

  “It was quite out of character, what you did back there,” Roland said, trying to change the subject. He’d grown weary of focusing on his own problems. “Breaking into DPI’s Sentinel to rescue an ordinary mortal man like Professor Benatar.”

  “And my little gang of rebels will never let me hear the end of it, when we get back to them and tell the tale.” He shrugged. “What can I say? He’s Emma’s father. And I have fallen quite ridiculously in love with her.”

  “I can see that.”

  They walked in silence for a moment. Roland took in the platter-sized fungi growing on fallen logs, and the patches of mushrooms forming fairy circles on the forest floor.

  “I don’t sense anyone out there,” Roland said at length. “Do you?”

  “No. And I’m concerned, Roland. Why aren’t the Crows combing these woods in search of us? Getting in and out of there was a little bit too easy, if you ask me.”

  “Easy? We had bullets raining down around our feet,” he said, nodding down at Devlin’s leg. “You were hit by one.”

  “I was near the shifters when I was hit,” he said, glancing down at the tightly wrapped wound in his thigh. “I have to wonder if that bullet was meant for them. Because you and Rhiannon and the children, stood there in plain sight outside that building...until you pulled that disappearing act of yours. There were trained marksmen on the roof. Dozens of them. They couldn’t have all missed you unless they were deliberately trying.”

  “And yet they shot at you?” Roland asked.

  “At the lycans. I was just in the line of fire.” He shrugged. “Of course, I can’t be sure of any of that. Perhaps the great Rhiannon knows how to deflect bullets. I don’t know.”

  “No. She doesn’t.” Roland was searching his mind. “But why would they deliberately let the vampires go?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?” Devlin shrugged. “Just something to think about.”

  Roland nodded. They’d made a full circle and arrived back at the barn just as a moving van came speeding along the narrow road, slowing and pulling over near the barn. Before he even had time to go tense, Roland recognized the energy of its occupants. Maxine and Lou Malone and young Lucas Townsend, former DPI lieutenant.

  He glanced at Devlin. It’s all right, they’re with us.

  The larger man’s shoulders relaxed.

  “We’re leaving now, Devlin. Apparently I’m to be conveyed to Maine by means of a flying machine, though I freely admit, I’d prefer to hop the entire distance. We need to get underway soon if we’re to make it by sunrise.”

  Devlin extended a hand and Roland clasped it firmly. “Be safe, Roland. And if you need anything, contact me.”

  “You’re returning to the west coast?” Roland asked.

  “Further, even. Regina Island,” Devlin said. “But I can get back quickly if I’m needed, and I can bring reinforcements as well. Tavia, Bellamy—”

  “I know, my friend. Thank you for that. I pray it won’t be necessary.” Roland glanced at the barn as Lucas opened its doors. He hadn’t seen the two vampires lurking in the dark shadows outside. “I hope for peace. Peace and a home that is a haven, where Rhiannon and I can raise the Offspring to be decent beings. And teach them to master their powers and to temper them with kindness.”

  “Rhiannon’s going to teach them that, is she?”

  Roland heard the jest in Devlin’s tone and smiled in amusement. “One can only hope.” Then he grew serious again. “Sheena and Wolf are more than welcome to come with us—”

  “I’ve talked to them already,” Devlin said. They want to return to the island with Emma and Me. But uh...I think it’s important that we facilitate regular visits. They’re family, them and the Sevens. A strange, laboratory-generated family, but family all the same.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do. Be well, Devlin.”

  “Be safe, Roland.”

  * * *

  Only a few days after leaving our barn-hideout in New York, we were driving my new car, a sleek black crossover SUV made by Porsche–because if I were going to drive an SUV then what other kind would I be driving?–through a set of strong iron gates and onto the grounds of our new home. The gates closed behind us the moment we passed through them, and our tires crunched over a driveway lined in white gravel. It wound and twisted among perfectly groomed lawns. It was night, beautiful night, and I was bringing my beloved Roland and the three children we intended to raise together, to the place I had named Serenity.

  I’d handled all the details from Maxine and Lou’s home, which was forty miles north of us, in the space of a few days. After a night spent browsing the realty listings, the internet had turned up the perfect place, as I had known it would. It was in a rural area, surrounded by farmland and forest. We submitted an offer well above the asking price in exchange for immediate access to the place, and it was accepted eagerly. I made it clear we would not want to be bothered. At all. For any reason. Any documents in need of signing could be faxed to us or simply left in the mailbox. There was no reason for further contact.

  We had long kept a safe deposit box in Bangor, since I loved Maine beyond any other state in the US. Maxine was kind enough to visit there during daytime hours and retrieve the items it held. Our false identities, credit cards, etcetera. Roxanne had provided birth certificates and Social Security cards for the children to match our current false names. She’d done so by means of some shady contact of hers, about whom, I knew nothing. But I trusted Roxanne.

  Money had expedited the process of purchasing both the Porsche and the house, as only money could do. And now, as I drove slowly among the trees and lawns, I felt the sensation of an immense weight lifting from me. Reaching across, I put my hand over Roland’s. “Do you feel it, my love? We’ve come
home.”

  He glanced my way and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The right one was still swollen and red, though it seemed to be improving. He was holding a warm, moist cloth to it as he had been doing frequently, to relieve the pain. We vampires feel pain more than mortals can imagine.

  Something more than just this lingering eye problem was weighing on him. He hadn’t even complained about the hour-long car ride. My gaze on him lingered only briefly. We would talk about it later, I decided. I would not let worry cloud my joy of this day.

  I drove around another bend in the white snake of a driveway, and there was the house, broad and tall, built of stately red brick. Four white columns supported the portico above the massive red entry door, and concrete porch and steps. Black shutters flanking every window. Five thousand square feet, not including the guest house and four-car garage. It was a home worthy of us.

  I stopped the car in front, shut it off, and opened the door to get out. And then I just stood there, staring at the place with my heart filling. This was where we would raise the children. This was where they would grow and learn and become adults. This was our haven.

  The children climbed out of the car as well, and went running round the house to the backyard.

  “Wait!” I called. “Wait until I’ve made certain it’s safe!” I started after them, only to feel Roland’s hand on my shoulder from behind.

  “It’s perfectly safe. It’s fenced all the way around. There are alarms and motion sensors enough to protect the president. And on top of all of that, they have abilities we’ve only begun to understand. They’re fine, Rhiannon.”

  I turned to face him, and saw just then, the Roland I’d been missing. Relief washed through me and I smiled at the rush of it. “You’re probably right. But I must check all the same.” I pressed the keys into his hand, and my lips to his mouth. “I’ll be inside momentarily.”

  He nodded and, hating to leave him, I headed around the house to the backyard where a large swimming pool sparkled in the sunlight, just off a massive deck. Farther back, the giant wooden swing set I’d requested the seller install before our arrival was perfect in every way, and the children were already climbing its attached tower, then descending by way of its slide.

  So odd, watching them. They used the swings methodically. There was no boisterous giggling, no laughter.

  Spotting me, Nikki got off her swing and came to me. “We’re really going to stay here?”

  “This is our home now, Nikki,” I promised, stroking her hair and loving the sparkle in her eyes and the genuine smile on her lips. Smiles were new to the children. Laughter would come, too, in time.

  “When we go inside, we’ll choose a bedroom just for you, and I will proceed to fill it with everything a little girl could want.”

  She blinked her eyes. “I can’t think of anything to want,” she said softly. “Thank you, Rhiannon.”

  My own throat was going tight. “You’re welcome poppet.” I heard another vehicle, and turning in alarm, saw Roland coming out through the large double doors onto the deck. He wore a new prosthetic, sent to him by the ingenious Killian. But for some reason, he’d kept the walking stick Lucas had made him. He’d packed it with the rest of the belongings we’d acquired since returning to Maine.

  “It’s Roxanne and Christian,” he said when I met his eyes. Lucas had returned to his duties as a DPI Lieutenant on the West Coast. He intended to act as a spy for our side, and felt he could do the most good from the inside.

  “You have to stop being so nervous, my love,” he went on. “We’re safe here.”

  “It’s almost too hard to believe.” I joined him on the deck, up the steps to its higher level, and then slid my arms around his waist and rested my head on his chest. “I love you so much, Roland. I don’t know what happened to you back there, but I promise you—”

  “I don’t know either,” he said.

  Frowning, I lifted my head to stare into his eyes. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  He seemed to search for words, then quickly shook his head. “Nothing. I...I suppose I’m just acclimating.”

  Before I could question him further, I heard Christian’s booming voice and thundering feet from just beyond the doors, and then he came bursting through them. “There’s a pool! Roxy, there’s a pool!” he shouted, then he ran past us and out to join the children.

  Roxanne came behind him a bit more leisurely, shaking her head. “This is some place you picked, Rhiannon. Gotta hand it to you, you know how to live. Always have.”

  “I only know what I like.” I hooked my arm through Roland’s. “Shall we explore our new abode, love? I’m eager to see the master suite. And perhaps to test out the bed, I added silently. It’s been too long.

  I saw the spark of arousal in his eyes. It was his only reply as we walked into the house, leaving Christian and the children to their playing.

  * * *

  “It’s working beautifully,” Dr. Bouchard said.

  “It’s about freaking time,” Colonel Patterson replied.

  “I expected the day sleep would heal him completely,” Dr. Bouchard said for the tenth time. “But the ongoing presence of the foreign object kept the irritation returning every night. His body seems to have adjusted to it now, though.”

  They were watching a large flat screen monitor in Patterson’s office, and seeing everything Roland de Courtemanche saw, just as if his eyes were a camera. Because one of them was. “Look at that place,” she said, feeling a little envious. “Living like royals, aren’t they?”

  “And yet we don’t know where it is.” Her ever-critical employer was true to form. “The camera didn’t work all the way there. We should’ve inserted a tracking device.”

  “We don’t need a tracking device, Colonel Patterson. We already know the Offspring can sense each other over long distances. Besides, Roland will do whatever we command him to do, when we’re ready.

  “An assumption that has not yet been put to the test.”

  “I’m just giving it some time to take,” Bouchard said. “He’s uneasy, sensing something wrong. If we tip him off, he’ll bolt. Or worse.” She returned her attention to the screen. Reaching down to her computer mouse, she moved the curser until it hovered over the redhead’s face. With a click of a button the facial recognition feature spelled out her information.

  Roxanne O’Malley

  BD Positive

  Age Unknown

  Wanted for Crimes Against the State

  Biological granddaughter: Charlotte O’Malley, vampire.

  The underlined name was a clickable link to the files on Charlotte O’Malley, but Bouchard wasn’t interested in her at the moment.

  “Roxanne O’Malley.” The colonel said the name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “That’s one human who’s got to go. She’s been a thorn in our sides far too many times. Probably the best mortal friend a vampire could have. Who’s the big guy playing with the mutants?”

  Dr. Bouchard moved the mouse to the large blond man and clicked again.

  Christian Svensen Slate

  Age 25

  BDX Subject

  Euthanized at Conclusion of Experiment

  “According to the computer, he’s dead,” she said, unnecessarily, because the colonel could read it for himself, and was leaning over her shoulder so closely she could smell his dinner on his breath.

  “Yeah, well he’s not,” he said. “And he’s not a vampire. Yet. Given his size it’s probably better if he never becomes one, either.”

  “He had the full series of injections. The failsafe is in place. If a vampire drinks his blood to change him, they’ll die.”

  “They managed to change the O’Mally bitch.”

  “O’Mally never received the full series of injections.” Bouchard shrugged. “But Slate did, so they can’t change him. And if he’s exposed to extreme stress, his heart will explode,” Dr. Bouchard said.

  “Then let’s stress the bastard out.” />
  “I’m not sure how you expect me to–”

  “You just keep track of the Offpspring. I want to know everything those little mutants do. Clearly they were keeping the full extent of their abilities to themselves in captivity. Let’s let ‘em experience freedom for a while, see if they get comfortable enough to start flexing their muscles, so to speak.”

  “And what about Christian Slate?” she asked.

  “I don’t know yet. We need their location, that’s our top priority. I consider the lack of a GPS implant a failure on your part, Bouchard. You figure out where they are. Pronto.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And don’t spook them. We want ‘em to feel safe. Secure. Stay put. They run again, we might not catch up.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  He nodded, but his cold gray eyes were glued to the screen. “How are the experiments on the albino going?”

  “I can switch feeds, if you like. This is all being recorded. We won’t miss anything.”

  He gave a nod, and she flipped a button. The screen flickered, and the images on it changed to a view of what looked like a little girl with shock white hair, seated in a chair in the center of a room. In front of it, there was a table littered with wooden building blocks in multiple shapes and colors. There were metal closures securing the subject’s wrists to the chair’s arms. Its eyes, usually a striking violet in color, were pale pink at the moment. They tended to lighten like that when it was angry. There were electrodes taped to its head for monitoring, and to its legs, for motivation. But so far, it had not revealed its powers, and Bouchard was beginning to wonder whether it actually had any.

  The subject moved its lips and Dr. Bouchard quickly turned up the volume.

  “I can’t. I keep telling you, I can’t move the blocks.”

  And then came the voice of the technician, who stood nearby with a clipboard in one hand and a remote control in the other. “Try again. Move the blocks. Use your powers.”