Lachlan

by D. B. Reynolds

  With a final check on the small sedan behind him, and just as the black SUV slipped up to his side one more time, he braked hard, slid behind the SUV and over to the grassy edge of the road, which was nothing but empty space in the dark night. The SUV’s brake lights flashed red as they zoomed ahead, then skidded into a 180 degree turn, and started back.

  The first enemy car—the small sedan with its four vampires—wasn’t able to respond that quickly. It slid right past the spot where Lachlan had pulled over, and unintentionally blocked the black SUV which was trying to get back to Lachlan.

  While they were honking and cursing, trying to maneuver around each other, Lachlan yanked Julia over for a hard kiss, then jumped from the Range Rover, and ordered her in a hard voice, “Remember what I said. You lock the doors and stay inside, no matter what.” He started to close his door, then added, “And keep the windows rolled up.”

  As he slammed the door, she shouted, “Don’t you fucking die!” He grinned, then turned to face his attackers.

  Lachlan took in the scene and calculated his strategy in a matter of seconds. The original four in the small sedan—the ones who’d revealed their presence by getting too close and giving him that chance reflection of their eyes—were out of their car and approaching on foot. It was possible that the glimpse of their eyes hadn’t been a mistake, but rather a calculated risk, a way to distract him from the real threat in the second attacker’s black SUV. But either way, it told Lachlan that their master considered them disposable. They were the weak point in the attack, a nuisance to be gotten rid of.

  Focusing hard, he took all four down with a single, powerful blast of his power, blowing them to the ground and leaving their brains temporarily fried, neurons firing erratically as the vampire symbiote struggled to repair the damage. They would recover eventually, if Lachlan chose to let them live. But they were out of this fight for good, leaving him free to take on the real threat, which was the two vampires in the black SUV. They’d turned their vehicle around and were now storming back his way, seeming determined to run him over as a first strike.

  Lachlan was certain they’d been shielding themselves earlier. There was no other way he could have missed them coming up behind him in the first place. If they had the power to do that—to successfully shield a big, moving SUV—then they might be strong enough to knock him out long enough to take him out of the fight for a few minutes. They couldn’t kill him, but they wouldn’t have to. Knocking him out for even a short time would leave Julia vulnerable. If he let these assholes take him down, they’d grab Julia and take her to Erskine. He couldn’t imagine a worse fate. But then, that was never going to happen to his princess.

  The SUV’s engine roared as they sped closer, eating up the ground between them. But Lachlan wasn’t going to stand there and wait. Reaching out, he struck the oncoming vehicle with a hammer-blow of power that crumpled the engine and sent the big SUV skidding off the roadway, where it came to a hard stop, as if they’d hit a physical wall. Howling furiously, one of them ripped the passenger door off with a shriek of tearing metal, then tumbled out of the car and jumped to his feet, a moment before the driver did the same, blood pouring down his face.

  The two vamps took up position facing Lachlan, standing so close together that their shoulders touched. They stood waiting, glaring a fierce hatred at Lachlan, though he didn’t recognize either one of them. He knew the moment their shields came up, and raised his own. These two might be weaker than he was, but stranger things had happened in his long life.

  Like right now.

  Because a moment after he sensed the flare of their power, he knew it was far stronger than it should have been. And then he understood the close stance, the touching shoulders. The two vampires were linking their energies, combining their power into something stronger than either of them could produce alone.

  “Son of a bitch,” he swore, even as every part of him settled into total focus. No emotion, no ego. A simple calculation. Do whatever it takes to kill the enemy. Something must have shown in his expression, or the lack of it, because where a moment earlier, there’d been nothing but smug confidence, there was now fear in the attackers’ eyes.

  Guns appeared without warning, pulled from under their jackets, fired in the same movement. Telepathic coordination, Lachlan thought. Clever. But not nearly enough against his ability to walk into their brains and make them see things that weren’t quite where they should be.

  He laughed at their shocked cries when their bullets sailed into empty space, because he simply wasn’t there. No, he was much, much closer. He grabbed the first one from behind and ripped out his throat, catching his gun as it fell. The second vamp, the driver, heard his partner’s gurgling scream and turned, gun up and firing. Lachlan’s skin heated as bullets whizzed past, grunting when one hit its target and grazed a rib. Far too close. He’d underestimated his opponents and dropped his shield to avoid giving away his position. Stupid mistake. But not a fatal one yet.

  He surprised the enemy vamp yet again, when instead of pushing him away, he yanked him closer. The vamp didn’t have time to cry out before Lachlan slammed a fist against his chest, shocking his heart into a full stop for a critical moment, enough time for Lachlan to put a gun against the vamp’s heart and blow it to shreds. As the driver vamp dusted to nothing, Lachlan leaned over the first vampire, who was still struggling to breathe through his ruined throat, put the gun to his head, and emptied the clip, destroying his brain, and leaving a second pile of dust.

  He stood and tossed the gun away in disgust. He hated the fucking things, but they came in handy sometimes. His preferred method of execution was to break the enemy’s ribs and crush the heart between his fingers. But if he’d done that this time, his hands would be as bloody as his jacket, and he thought Julia would be shocked enough by the raw violence he’d let loose on these two. She wouldn’t appreciate—

  The rapid sound of gunfire had him spinning around to see a lone vampire crumbling to dust no more than two feet behind him, what looked like an iron crowbar in his moldering fist. Lachlan looked up to see Julia, in her high heels and tight skirt, legs planted as far apart as the skirt allowed, a gun held steady in both hands as she eyed the pile of vampire dust. Lowering the weapon as he stared, she pantomimed blowing on the barrel of the gun, then calmly backed up to the open door of the Rover and reached inside to do . . . whatever. Re-load her weapon? Fix her make-up? Christ. He’d misjudged her, too, hadn’t he? Good thing she was on his side, because she’d probably just saved his life.

  Spinning on his heel, he headed back to where she waited in the Range Rover, glancing down at the three remaining vampires who’d been riding in the sedan. He considered killing them, too, and knew he probably should. But it would be too much like kicking a dog. They were drones in the vampire lord’s army—fighters Erskine had been willing to let die, to be nothing but a distraction so that the two much stronger vamps in the black SUV could succeed.

  Lachlan glanced up as he drew closer, and saw Julia watching him once more, her eyes taking in the blood on his clothes, the bodies on the ground. Yanking open the cargo hatch, he ripped off his jacket and shirt, tossed them inside, then dug into his duffle for a clean t-shirt. He was pissed about the jacket. It had been his favorite, but it could be replaced.

  Slamming the hatch, he walked around to where she stood waiting. “I told you to stay in the car.”

  “Good thing I didn’t, huh? You’re welcome.”

  He studied her a moment. “Who taught you to shoot?”

  “A very good instructor at the CIA.”

  “A boyfriend?”

  Her smile was way too smug as she stepped close enough to put a hand on his chest. “A friend.” She kissed his chin. “We should probably leave before someone sees this wreckage and calls the cops.”

  He nodded. “Fine. But we’re going to talk later. You’ve been k
eeping secrets.”

  She scoffed. “Like you haven’t. You want me to drive?”

  “No,” he growled, then yanked her close, held her tightly, and gave her a long, tongue-tangling kiss. “Thank you,” he murmured against her wet lips.

  JULIA DIDN’T KNOW what shocked her most—the casual violence of their encounter, or the fact that Lachlan had thanked her. For saving his life. Christ, had she actually done that? Killed a vampire? Her first. She should feel something, shouldn’t she? Well, she’d certainly felt it when Lachlan had kissed her. Had he known she needed that hug? That his kiss would jump-start her into reacting to something other than horror at what she’d done? What she’d seen him do? She glanced over. He was a dark profile against the black night outside the window, nothing but the instrument lights on the dash to highlight the sharp line of his jaw, the surprisingly straight bridge of his nose. Shouldn’t a two-hundred-year-old warrior have had his nose broken more than once? She smiled at the ridiculous thought, and saw his mouth curve slightly as if sharing the joke.

  “You okay, princess?” he asked, without looking away from the road.

  “Yes,” she said without thinking. And that was another thing. Why didn’t it bother her anymore that he persisted in calling her “princess?” She’d have verbally castrated any other man who dared to use that. It was sexist and condescending. And it had been the first few times he’d used it, but now . . . it seemed sincere. Endearing, even. Hell. A few good fucks and she’d practically canonized the guy. She needed to get away before she started wearing sensible pearls with a shirt dress, and wielding a feather duster instead of a gun.

  “How much farther?” she asked, needing to get out of this car and put some distance between them. He was too big, too masculine, too . . . Lachlan. If she had to sit this close for much longer, watching the way his strong hands controlled the big SUV, the flex of muscles under his tight t-shirt every time they rounded another curve, the gleam of his eyes taking in everything, seeing every danger, every . . .

  She gave herself a mental slap. And heard a soft masculine chuckle. That was twice he’d reacted to her thoughts. What the hell? Giving him a narrow-eyed stare, she hissed, “What’s so funny?”

  His eyes went wide with surprise when he looked at her. “Private joke. The cousins and I had quite the encounter with a red stag hereabouts. It was rutting season and Fergus got too close. The stag thought he was a competitor and came after him. Of course, Munro and I took great pleasure in telling him that the male was hunting up a new hind for his herd, instead.” He smiled again.

  “When was that?” she asked, somewhat embarrassed about her suspicions.

  “A century ago, maybe more. Long before this road was what it is now.”

  There was a wistful quality to his voice that made her want to touch him, to provide a human link to the here and now. She should fight it. She’d just been warning herself against getting too close to this charismatic man who made her feel strong, feminine, and protected all at the same time. She shouldn’t have been surprised. The more she learned, it was obvious that a disposition toward protectiveness was part and parcel with what Lachlan considered a good ruler. What surprised her was that she liked it. Liked the sense of being treasured, of being important enough to this dangerous man that his first thought had been her safety.

  Yeah, he was dangerous, all right. That was a given. But the danger she worried most about wasn’t the violence of his life. She was worried about her heart and what a man like Lachlan could do with it.

  But she still reached out and rested her hand on his shoulder, wishing for one of those old-fashioned bench car seats, so she could scoot over, like in the movies, and rest her head on his shoulder.

  “What’s it like?” she asked him instead.

  “What’s that?”

  “Living hundreds of years. Seeing the world change so drastically.”

  He seemed to think about it for a minute before saying slowly, “It was terrifying at first. I knew from the time I held my first sword that I’d eventually be made Vampire. The history books don’t talk about it, but McRae always had vampires among its warriors. They were high up in the ranks, of course, being the best warriors simply by virtue of what they were. The vampire symbiote . . . You know about that, right?”

  She nodded. “Cyn explained it back when she first started dating Raphael, and I did some digging on my own, although reliable information is almost impossible to find.”

  “That’s because we want it that way.”

  “More of those friends in dark places?”

  “Something like that.”

  They rode in silence for a while, with Julia waiting for him to continue his story. When he didn’t, she prompted him, saying, “So what changed? You made it sound like things didn’t happen as you’d expected.”

  He made a bitter sound. “You could say that. The night we were turned—the cousins and I—was the night Erskine attacked and wiped out virtually my entire clan. His human soldiers started the attack in daylight, killing everyone—women, children, old men—it didn’t matter to them. And in the worst of the fighting, they went to the cellars where our vampire warriors rested, and killed them while they slept. Every vampire in his bed, and his mate, too, if she slept with him. By the time the sun set, and Erskine arrived with his vampires, it was a slaughter.”

  “Lachlan,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry. How did you survive?”

  “McRae had a separate chamber for a vampire’s first night. We still do, though we’re in a different place now. We discovered later that the first human attackers had tortured certain of our women to get their men to talk. The men held out longer than I could have, had a woman I loved been at a knife’s edge, but in the end, they gave up the location of the main chamber where our vampire warriors slept. The few who survived confessed later, expecting to be executed as traitors, but I didn’t have the heart for it. As it was, we’d lost too many, and I believe the McRae men hoped it would take so long for the enemy to break into the chamber, that our oldest vampires would already be awake and ready to fight.” He shrugged. “But the Ross cowards didn’t realize there was a first night chamber deeper in the fortress, and so the three of us lived long enough to drive away the attackers and save what we could.” His jaw hardened. “It also revealed the enemy as Erskine Ross.”

  “Why you? Why’d he go after your clan?”

  “There was an old slight. Irrelevant by then. But Erskine used it to justify his attack. The truth was that the McRae elders didn’t fall in line and support the bastard’s ambition to become Scotland’s first vampire lord.”

  “When was this?”

  “Early winter, 1846. Longer nights in winter.”

  “They’re dark already this year.”

  “Aye, but it will get darker still before the days come back.”

  She squeezed his shoulder, feeling the tension in those hard muscles. “What did you do?”

  He tipped his head, brushing his cheek over her hand where it lay on his shoulder. “We survived. I was the strongest surviving warrior, vampire or not. So everyone looked to me for leadership. You asked what it’s like to live so long. It’s not my own life that’s difficult. It’s all those other lives that I’m responsible for.”

  “Your clan?”

  “The old clan is mostly scattered. Officially, Clan McRae barely exists in Scotland. I gathered what was left of my family, and a few others, and travelled deeper into the highlands until I found a place we could thrive. We’re mostly vampires in this new place, with human relatives providing whatever daylight security is needed. It’s taken us all this time to gather enough of us, to make the clan secure enough, that I dared take on Erskine, to finally make him pay for his crime, without endangering the people I love.”

  “He doesn’t know where you live?”

  “He kno
ws. But we’re not vulnerable the way we were then. We’re far to the north, and while Erskine owns a house in Inverness for appearances, he’s too settled in his fancy Edinburgh mansion to bother with a few Highland vampires. He hates me, and doesn’t trust me any more than I trust him. But I haven’t confronted him openly yet. He’d kill me if he could do it without anyone knowing, but I, and my cousins, make sure that will never happen. Privately, I think he still hopes to co-opt me into his little empire. He’s been living the high life too long to remember what it’s like to burn with the need for revenge, especially over something that happened nearly two centuries ago. Besides, the McRaes have been living quiet lives for so long, while we built up our strength, that I think he believes we’re reconciled to his rule.”

  Julia frowned. “But then why’d he come after you back there?”

  Lachlan turned to stare at her, long enough that she began to worry about his driving. “It wasn’t me he was after, princess,” he said, with a bare glance at the road. “It was you.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “That makes no sense. According to you, that’s twice he’s tried. What the hell does he want with me? I’m no threat to him.”

  “Well, you do want to kill him, but I don’t think it’s you he’s afraid of.”

  It only took her a moment to figure it out. “The CIA? What would the US intelligence community want with Erskine? Besides, I didn’t tell anyone what I was doing or even where I was going, so he’s not in danger from them. Not by my hand, anyway.”