The Vampire And The Highland Empath

by Clover Autrey

  Frowning, he tried to collect his feelings. She felt right in his arms. She was right. She had nestled her way under his skin and gods help him, he wanted to keep her there.

  He held her while her pulse slowed, drifting into the soft cadence of sleep and then he laid her gently on the bed, smiling when she murmured and turned over on her side.

  Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to fall into the soft rasp of her even breathing, the soft hum of blood drifting through her veins. She was lovely. When she’d stepped from the washroom, barefoot and tousled-hair, he could barely breathe. He wanted her so badly it was a physical ache. Treasure.

  Beneath them, the hull pushed through the water, another type of pulse, steady and as old as the earth that had seen battles and wars, yet still remained.

  Where the hell was Alex?

  It didn’t take this long to radio in to Greenock.

  Instantly alert, Roque cracked the door open and the salty air ruffled his hair. They were close to the shipyards. He could make out dark outlines of boats and buildings against the darkening sky, quiet and surreal, all lights extinguished for the evening’s blackout.

  The scent of troll grew heavier as he made his way up to the wheelhouse. Nasty smelly beasts, their scent covered everything and was almost too much for his senses. He supposed he should be grateful since a troll’s vision was keen enough to traverse the Firth after dark in a blackout. A human captain would never have risked crossing this late.

  Roque stood outside the wheelhouse, listening for irregularities. The captain was inside; his five-chambered heart beating heavily, almost too loud for a vampire’s sensitive hearing. Between the stink and the noise, a throbbing pressure was building behind Roque’s eyes. The sooner they got to Greenock, the better. Two more trolls were near the bottom aft, most likely searching the waters for shoals. The heartbeats of the three trolls nearly overpowered all the other heartbeats, a few humans, a few non-humans.

  Roque concentrated, searching for Alex’s rhythm beneath the noise.

  He found it, surprisingly faint, just inside the wheelhouse. Roque looked through the window, finding only the captain inside at the wheel, nothing out of the ordinary. Just the troll and Alex who he could not see. Something was off.

  Quietly, he lifted the latch, ready to burst inside when a soft snick penetrated the quiet.

  A tiny light fluttered in the breeze and went out.

  Roque froze.

  Slowly, he turned.

  Geschopf came around the back of the wheelhouse and leaned against the railing, gloved hands cupped around his mouth to shield a cigarette from the wind.

  Of course. A dragon’s heart ran quieter, smaller, easy to hide beneath the clamor and stench of trolls. Geschopf had been on the paddle steamer all along.

  “You should put that out.” Roque’s voice came out steadier than he’d thought. “Blackout and all.”

  Geschopf’s lips turned down like a shrug. He took a long drag and then flicked the cigarette over the side into the water.

  Roque watched it disappear, his heart racing with violence. Geschopf was so close, within reach. Edeen was just below, asleep and vulnerable in their deckhouse. And Alex…what had Geschopf done to Alex?

  “I want you back, Roquemore.”

  Roque flinched, not expecting that. Acid rose, coating his tongue. His neck and wrists itched, phantom remainders of restraints.

  “No.” His tone scraped raw.

  Geschopf tsked, the same way he had when Roque was a young man right before die Schwarze Klaue tested how many fingers he could break before Roque lost control of his fire. Small beads of perspiration dotted Roque’s forehead.

  “We were not finished, you and I.” Geschopf’s smile was patient.

  Roque squared his shoulders. “We finished long ago. I escaped.”

  Geschopf took a pack of cigarettes from his front pocket and tapped it in his palm. “Did you?” The Sturmhauptführer smiled, seeing that Roque understood. “A field study, shall we say. To see what could be achieved without force or restraint.”

  A tremor rolled through him. He was going to be sick. The life he’d built so carefully on his own, the good he thought he’d achieved with his unique skills, that he’d so desperately tried to take the ugliness Geschopf had put him through and make something good out of it. All of that had been carefully studied by the monster before him.

  Geschopf pulled out another cigarette. “I could have reeled you in at any time.”

  So why now? Why make his presence known now? Roque’s mouth tightened, knowing the answer. Edeen. And he had led the Black Claw right to her. Roque took a step forward.

  “I wouldn’t.” Geschopf placed the unlit cigarette between his lips. “You want to rip my throat out with your bare hands. Good. Keep that fire in your soul. Hatred feeds you strength.”

  Roque did hate him. Flame hissed across his skin, reflecting in Geschopf’s dark eyes. Wulf swallowed, drunk on controlling Roque’s abilities.

  “Come.” Geschopf reached across Roque to grasp the door latch. “We’ve much to discuss, and you, have choices to make.” He pulled the door open and waited for Roque to enter.

  Stiffly, Roque stepped into the wheelhouse. It felt like giving away a piece of his soul.

  The troll glanced down at them. Alex was a mess just inside, huddled in the corner behind the door, face torn and bloodied.

  “Alex!”

  Roque went to his knees, but the troll captain quickly stepped between them.

  Strong arms suddenly grabbed him from behind. Geschopf pulled him back against him, and nodded to the captain. “The Lieutenant’s usefulness is ended. Get rid of him.”

  “No!” Roque reacted swiftly, jabbing a fist into Geschopf’s throat and throwing himself at the troll’s back, already blocking the door

  Unbothered by Roque’s strength, the behemoth hauled Alex out the door and pitched him over the rail. The splash was lost in the churning of the large wheel.

  Roque shoved the troll and braced to jump.

  Geschopf’s voice rattled across the air. “Save the boy or save the girl.”

  It felt like a lightning bolt speared him to the spot, petrifying the moment. Roque’s heart came to a stuttering stop.

  He twisted back.

  Geschopf was straightening, a hand at his neck, his voice rough. “Go on. Jump. I’ll find you again. I’ll always find you.”

  He couldn’t leave Edeen to this monster.

  Heartsick, Roque stared down into the cold churning water. Without a word, he went back into the wheelhouse, grabbed the supply kit off the wall, and found the flashlight. Clicking it on, he strode back outside, and jerked the life ring off the railing. He tied the flashlight to it all the while Geschopf watched with a bemused grin. Forever studying Roque, examining his every move and motivation with a scientist’s eye. Roque embraced the fire boiling within him.

  Geschopf could burn in hell.

  Finished, Roque threw the life ring far out into the water, watching the flashlight dip and bob, a small beacon in a gulf of blackness.

  He hoped Alex could see it, even knowing his friend was far behind them. He hoped Alex was still alive, still fighting, not crushed in the giant wheel or swept beneath the steamer’s giant wake.

  Geschopf chuckled behind his shoulder. “You still cling to hope…after all these years. At the forefront to aid your little allied friends. It is a weakness, you know. When you have the potential to seize so much power…” Geschopf sighed, truly disappointed.

  “Let go of me,” Edeen called from below.

  Roque moved to go to her.

  “Remain here, Roque. We wouldn’t want the empath to come to harm.”

  “You need her,” Roque snarled. “Hitler wants her.”

  “Her skills. A broken arm won’t hinder that.”

  The dragon in Roque roared to the surface, protective. Possessive. Edeen was his. Mate, the dragon hissed.

  The fact that he’d just claimed her didn’
t warrant reflection in his current state. His blood churned. Fire erupted along his arms.

  “Good, Roquemore,” Geschopf praised. “Unleash the rage.”

  Geschopf’s men prodded Edeen up the steps and flames roared anew at the sight of her, rippling across Roque’s shoulders, his chest. Discoloration from a slap marred her cheek. Barefoot, hair disheveled and loose, she glared at the men. He glared at the men. Shite, not men. Vampires. Geschopf had brought his vampires.

  Ablaze, Roque rocked forward, intent on throwing the first vampire over the rail or simply set him to burn.

  “Brechen ihr Schlüsselbein.“ Geschopf called out. “Snap her collarbone.”

  Roque stopped, and immediately quenched his flames. What was left of his shirt burned around him.

  “Your control has improved.” Geschopf cocked his head and went into the wheelhouse, not bothering to make sure he was followed. He knew Roque had no choice.

  Chapter Eleven

  The vampire steered Edeen into the troll captain’s little room. She immediately sought out Roque. He stood stiffly on the other side of the large wheel, hands clenched into fists by his sides. The soldiers, vampires, who had taken her from her room flanked her. One kept his hand curled around her upper arm, keeping her in place.

  Roque’s gaze traveled over her, no doubt looking for injuries. Scant little remained of his charred shirt. Scraps and threads he had not bothered to whisk off.

  Geschopf moved in front of Roque and dipped his head graciously to her. “My Lady.”

  Edeen stayed still. This was the man, the monster, who had hurt Roque. Countless times.

  “Her gift is gone,” Roque said suddenly. “She’s of no use to you.”

  Geschopf angled his head, studying her. “She better hope that’s not true.” Then more gently to Edeen. “Does he lie?”

  Edeen looked from one man to the other, hoping to gauge from their expressions the right way to respond and found no aide there. With one touch she could ferret out and supply Geschopf with all the answers he wanted.

  “Nay, he does not lie. When I awakened, my gift was gone, buried, but it is returned.”

  Geschopf’s brow rose. “Completely?”

  She did not know.

  Her talents were hazy and fragmented. Random thoughts and memories she was unable to guide. Her gift was there, but she did not have the control over it she once commanded. “Yes.”

  Roque did not move a muscle.

  Something within Geschopf’s dark eyes glinted. “Show me. Place your hands on young Roquemore here and tell me what you see.”

  “How do you suppose I know my gifts are back?” She snapped. She had feared Aldreth, was enraged by what the witch had put her brother through, but this man… Aldreth craved power. He drank torture and pain like wine. She wrenched her arm out of the vampire’s grasp and took a step to the center of the small window-filled room. “I’ve already touched Roque. I know enough.”

  “Then tell me.” Geschopf took a step toward her, a towering, solid presence. Behind him, Roque shifted, balancing his weight forward. A stance so like Shaw’s it hurt.

  Geschopf’s hot breath washed over her. “Tell me Roque’s secrets.”

  Edeen stilled the urge to cringe back. She met Geschopf’s gaze flatly. “You do not need me to reveal what you already know. He hates you. He’ll kill you if he can.”

  Amusement played over the Black Claw’s lips. “It does not take an empath to see that.”

  “You murdered his mother.” Edeen lifted her chin. “Stole him, tortured him for years.”

  Geschopf nodded. “To make him stronger. To take him to the excesses of his abilities.” He lifted a strand of Edeen’s hair. It took everything within her to remain still. “I can teach you to strengthen your gift.”

  Edeen swallowed. Dear gods, he truly believed he had helped Roque.

  She tugged her head away and her hair sifted through his gloves like water. “Ye would put me under yer lash? Bind me to yer rack? To enhance my abilities?”

  Roque’s jaw clenched.

  Geschopf’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Pain is a powerful conductor.”

  “I think not.” She folded her arms. “I do not wish to endure yer teaching methods.”

  Geschopf laughed at that, clearly enjoying their exchange. “Most people do not.” He leaned closer, his voice low. “Most people do not have buried talents that only pain may reveal.”

  Heart pounding, Edeen stepped away to get out from under his direct stare. She went over to the counter, housing the wheel and several other strange objects. “I have another proposal.”

  A dark brow lifted, smoothing lines from Geschopf’s cheek. “Go on.” His tone was coddling, spoken to someone who had no choice in the matter.

  Edeen took in a breath. “I will go with you willingly. I will do whatever this Hitler needs of me.”

  Geschopf’s gaze narrowed. She had surprised him. “No moral issues? Roquemore has not fed you his propaganda?”

  Edeen shook her head. “This is not my war. I am adrift in this world, alone. My family gone. Why would I not help those who have the means to keep me safe, who can provide for me?”

  Geschopf inclined his head. “I see your point. You’re more intelligent than I could have hoped.” A feral glimmer sparked his eyes, prepared to test her further. “What of Roquemore? You know we have history. Are you willing to let me resume his training and still honor our deal?”

  “Honestly, I would rather you not, but do I really have a choice in the matter?”

  He chuckled.

  She dug in to her resolve. “What do I have to do with him?” She didn’t bat an eye. Couldn’t. “Do what ye must as long as I survive intact.” It physically hurt to say it. Nausea filled her belly.

  Geschopf’s jagged smile widened. He turned to Roque to study his reaction.

  Roque gave nothing away, his body stiff, but whether over the promise of more torture or Edeen’s betrayal wasn’t clear.

  Geschopf turned back, extending his forearm. “Madam, we have a deal.”

  Without hesitation, Edeen took his hand and slapped her other pam to his chest, unleashing her pent-up essence. It flowed into him like an arrow.

  Geschopf screamed. His arms locked up tight. Edeen drove her essence into his heart, an ugly shriveled black thing.

  At the edge of her awareness she sensed Roque fly past her, heard grunts before that all dissolved away and she was with Geschopf, reliving moments, the world on fire, and she screamed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Experiences flooded Edeen, charged with fear turned to hatred that spun on the pinnacle of madness. Geschopf’s life was horror, terrifying and harsh, his own father mad, driven by power, heaping abuse upon abuse upon Wulf until Geschopf plunged his claw through his father’s throat and became the new Black Claw, far more creative and lethal. Geschopf broke and remade a parade of magical wielders. They flashed before Edeen in a mockery of life. Torn flesh, flayed muscles, broken, beaten, terrorized beneath her hands—Geschopf’s hands—enhanced, empowered, better, stronger, more capable. Pride washed through her. So proud, she, no he, was so proud of what he had made of them.

  Edeen wanted to vomit. She tried to flee, escape the trap of his madness. She didn’t want any part of this. Oh gods, Roque’s innocent young face flashed before her. Year’s worth of torment as the young man grew to adulthood under Wulf’s tutelage. Her essence wept, struggled to get free. What Geschopf had done to him, harder and so much worse than the others, his special pet project, his beautiful beautiful powerful boy.

  Beloved and depised by Wulf.

  Dragons awake from their millennial slumber to walk the earth in the skin of a man for decades, spilling seed, before returning to the bowels of earth to slumber for a thousand years more. Some offspring between dragon and human retain their draconic abilities, as did Geschopf from his dragon grandsire, where his own hated father did not.

  Yet the direct offspring between dragon and vampi
re…envy and pride for Roque coursed through Geschopf’s emotions as intertwined as strands of hemp. He loved him like his own and hated him for it, a sick twisted fervor of a disturbed mind.

  The truth lifted right from Geschopf’s innermost emotions. Roquemore was dragon spawned. Joining of vampire and dragon. The only one of his kind in existence.

  If she, nay, Geschopf, if Geschopf could force Roque to transform, as a dragon Roque would lose all human compassion, regress to his animalistic cravings, as Wulf had, she realized. Geschopf needed Roque to become the dragon in order to master him fully. Her stomach roiled.

  There was a rough grating sound and the images swirled. Experiences came at her faster, ripping through her soul, ripping her apart.

  A new leader arose, blood and death fluttering behind his heels. A reign of terror, of unimaginable cruelty. His own people rounded up, murdered, experimented upon. Heaps of decimated, ruined bodies trailed his essence like mounds of blood. Darkness and hatred covered the continent beneath hatred’s shroud.

  Geschopf admired him, this mad dictator who dared conceive of a race as strong and pure as what the Black Claw himself envisioned.

  Edeen screamed to get free of the nightmare. The darkness of Geschopf’s spirit held her essence, burrowing like a taproot into her gut.

  Sick, sick, she was going to be sick, whirling, she fled through Geschopf’s emotions, finding death and horror at every turn. There was no place to go, nothing but blood, blood, blood.

  Abruptly she was jerked away, coming back to her body in a painful thrust.

  Geschopf writhed on the floor, shrieking, gloves tearing at his scalp as she was pulled backwards away from him. She was being carried, a strong arm pressed across her stomach, hurting, making the need to spew even greater.

  They went out the door, past blood-coated vampires sprawled on the floor. One of their heads was missing, torn off.

  She wondered where the captain was. He should be steering the boat, shouldn’t he?

  Hysteric laughter bubbled in her throat. She was set on her feet. Roque’s face swam into view, his mouth working, though whatever he was saying came out echoey.