"She was shaken up but she seemed to be handling it."
He nodded curtly and settled himself on the arm of an overstuffed chair. He glanced mournfully at the abandoned glass of brandy. The fire flickered over the remains of the liquid in the glass, giving it a deep amber glow. If he ever needed a drink in his life, this was the time for it. He didn't reach for it. "Do you suppose Mikhail is coming after Shai?"
"Possibly. Or maybe he is after Maeve. She is the only one that got away from him alive. Jennifer could also be a target but I doubt it. He let her go this evening." Val shrugged. "Maybe he's after all of us. At this point I don't know. Something must have gone terribly wrong for him to have gotten his hands on Miranda."
"True. Miranda is a clever woman. Mikhail must have tricked her somehow." Mac rose from the chair and reached for the glass that beckoned him. "What is the plan?" He tossed the remains of his brandy into the fire. Brilliant blue flames leapt wildly.
"I sent Maeve to Sinjin's home in northern Scotland. After what happened in Cornwall, she will be completely safe there. I would take Shai also but I have a feeling she wouldn't stay there unless I chained her up. While that is an idea with some merit, she would never forgive me." He shook his head and smiled ruefully. "She is a pistol. I will be keeping her with me for now. Mikhail wants to meet with me at the Chapel des Anges Perdu outside Calais four days from now."
"What do you need me to do?"
"See if you can liberate Miranda from Mikhail's house. If something goes wrong, I want to know that at least Miranda is safe."
Mac set his empty glass down on the end table. For the first time in his lengthy life, his taste for the fine brandy had soured. "You need to kill him for once and for all," he said quietly.
Val looked him straight in the eye, his expression haunted. "Truer words have never been spoken, my friend. The Council of Elders will never stand for it."
"Damn the Council," Mac snarled. "This is the second time in ten years that Mikhail has come after you. Only the Goddess knows how many times he has come after you and others less fortunate before then. It was bad enough when he was killing humans, but now he comes after your women, a vampire and a revenant. If he succeeds, he will never stop the killing regardless of the Council's decision. You and I know this and it is time for it to end."
Val rose from the chair and moved over to where Mac stood. "You are right, but for now my hands are tied until I address the Council."
"When will you speak to the them?"
"I sent a message to Alexandre Saint-Juste earlier this evening. He is the current head of the Council and I hope to hear from him shortly."
"And what will you do if the Council refuses your request?"
"What can I do other than kill Mikhail, regardless of their dictates? He has to be stopped even if I have to relinquish my life to do so." Val shook his head, his expression sad. "How did it come to this? Mikhail has festering wounds that we have never seen, and it grows more tragic as the years pass. I found out only recently that Mikhail has lied to me from day one."
"How so?"
"When I met Mikhail in Kiev, I assumed he'd been born there. He spoke the language like a native, he dressed like them and he knew a great many people in the town. I came to find out recently from Jennifer that he is either Irish or Scottish. He's gone to great lengths to hide his background." Val shook his head. "In the beginning I thought we were friends, now I know he lied from the first word."
Mac laid his hand on Val's shoulder. "Mikhail is a lost soul. He was lost when he was human and he's even more lost now. Don't beat yourself up over that which you could never have predicted in the first place. It's almost morning, and we have four days to get their approval and get Miranda out of the house before your meeting with Mikhail."
Val laid a hand on Mac's shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. "Jennifer has been staying at Fayne's house in Westhumble for the past three months. What will you do about her?"
"I can handle Jennifer," Mac replied. "And I will keep her safe whether she wants me to or not."
"In death, you are even more beautiful than you were in life."
Shai started, her humming halted in mid-warble as the rough voice intruded upon her solitude. She turned away from her small oaken trunk filled with bottles of essential oils, her pursuit of rose absolute forgotten as she turned to look at the man who'd stolen her heart on a dark night ten years ago.
Valentin leaned against the doorjamb of the bedroom door watching her with his fathomless dark eyes, his expression grim. His heavy-lidded gaze caused the hollow ache in the center of her chest to expand. For the past ten years she'd adored this man. Lived with him, loved him through the nights, laughed with him, cried with him, and planned to spend eternity with him. And in those years she'd never seen her lover looking as tormented as he did now.
She forced a teasing smile to her lips. "You really know how to flatter a woman."
"Even if you can't sing?" An answering smile lightened his expression, "One should borrow from the masters, my love, not destroy them."
Shai moved toward him, laughter bubbling up in her throat. "Are you trying to say that I can't sing?"
His gaze scorched her skin as he shoved away from his resting-place and reached for her. "No my love, you cannot sing. However," he caught the tie of her emerald green silk robe and pulled, "you have other talents in abundance."
A sigh escaped her lips as her robe slid apart, the silk whispering across her skin. Raising her hands, she captured the edges before her bare skin was revealed. "Is Mac gone?"
"Yes." Reluctantly he released the tie and turned away from her. "He left a few hours ago to check up on Jennifer, no doubt." Slowly he walked over to the massive king-sized bed, climbing up onto the dais and settling on the edge of the mattress. His movements were those of an old man, slow and cautious as if he were afraid he might break something.
"He's still in love with her, you know." Shai retied her robe and took up the space in the doorway where Val had stood seconds before.
He laughed as he pulled a jeweled dagger from his waistband and tossed it on the bed. "He doesn't know that. If you asked him right now he would deny it with his dying breath."
"I wonder if he loves the flesh and blood woman that Jennifer is or if he wants her because she left him for Mikhail?" Shai knotted the tie in her hands. "Mac believes that no woman is immune to his charms. Her defection wounded his delicate male ego. I think the fact she refused to consummate their great love all those years ago really burns his butt."
Val shot her a curious glance. "Think so?" He began to unbutton his shirt. "I think you're selling him short."
The sight of her lover's muscular chest drew her from across the room. Shai stepped up onto the dais and brushed his hands away from the buttons. "Do I sell Mac short?" She climbed onto his lap, straddling him as she began to remove his shirt. "I know Mac would travel the world and back for you, but can he open his heart to her? Is he so haunted by the fact he has no memories of his past that he can't trust himself to love anyone? He seems to think that the lack of past memories makes him less of a man for some reason. Men!" She sighed. "Do you think he can love Jennifer the way she needs to be loved?"
"I know Jennifer is an old friend of yours and you're very loyal to her. But, I think you are biased in her favor and that clouds your judgement. Mac is indeed haunted by his lack of a past. He doesn't remember anything prior to the eleventh century, the day Renault found him unconscious at Hadrian's wall, and this eats at him. He doesn't know who made him or why. Who or what his family was, none of it." He dropped his hands to stroke her knees.
"Until he figures this out or decides he can live with the lost memories, he will never be the man Jennifer needs." Shai shook her head. "He will constantly run in circles only to find himself tied up in knots..."
"Why didn't they sleep together back then?" Val interrupted.
Shai shivered as his hands stroked up her thighs, gently nudging the silk of her robe a
part. She longed to give into the pull of desire that swept through her at his touch. But they were having a conversation, weren't they? She cleared her throat before continuing, "Jennifer told me that a lady of her time simply did not indulge in promiscuous sex. It was too dangerous. Even though she is an immortal, her upbringing stuck with her, I guess."
He snorted, "I know many ladies of the era who did not subscribe to that theory."
She smiled, "I'll bet you did. And you made it your life's mission to ferret those women out, didn't you?" She sighed as his strong thumbs began a slow ascent up the inside of her thighs. "I know that both of them were terribly hurt over what happened. My question is whether or not Mac can forgive her or if he will make her pay for an eternity. There are a lot of things that went on there that he doesn't know about."
His movements stopped. "Like what?"
Shai shook her head. "I promised Jen I would never tell. I just hope they can work something out before they get hurt again. Any idiot can see they need to be together."
"Is that so?" Val abandoned her thighs and slid his arms around her waist, tugging her closer. "That remains to be seen. Right now we have bigger problems."
She looked up into his dark eyes. She couldn't help but see the pain buried there before he pulled her into a tight hug. Val and Miranda had a long relationship that she knew very little about. On some level of her soul she was jealous of the beautiful vampire. But she couldn't be jealous for long. If it weren't for Miranda, Val would have never lived to be as old as he was. She was the one who saved him in the dark times, and helped him to adjust to the rapidly changing world around him. It was Miranda she had to thank for the love of her life being whole and healthy and holding her now.
Shai slid her arms around his neck and returned the embrace. "So what's the plan?"
"I just heard back from the Council of Elders. I've been granted a hearing tomorrow evening. I will present my plea for the execution then."
"What kind of a chance do you have?" She pulled back to look him in the eye. "Do you think they'll grant the request?"
Val's expression was bleak and her heart gave a twinge. "A plea for execution hasn't been granted in over four hundred years." His grip tightened on her waist. "It doesn't look good."
Shai shook her head slowly, her throat constricting, "What happens if they deny your request? What happens if they allow Mikhail to go free?"
"Then I kill him anyway. It is the only way I can guarantee your and Maeve's safety."
Tears burned at her eyes and she blinked furiously, she dug her fingers deep into his shoulders as if she could bind him to her, thus guaranteeing his safety. "And what happens if you kill Mikhail anyway?"
His dark eyes bore into hers. "If I go against the council, they'll put me to death."
A keening wail caught in Shai's throat and she tore away from him. She struggled to her feet as fear ravaged her soul. Stumbling over her long robe, she swerved toward the door. She barely felt the strong hands that grabbed her by the shoulders until she was pulled back into the embrace of her lover. For a second she struggled, a cry burst forth from her lips that would have shattered a mortal's eardrums. A delicate glass vase burst, sending a shower of water and roses onto a mahogany table and the carpeting below. Sobbing, she fell limp against Val's broad chest. She loved him more than life itself; she couldn't lose him now.
"I won't let this happen," she sobbed. "I won't allow Mikhail's actions to take you away from me."
"Beloved, nothing is set in stone," he whispered in her ear. "We still have a chance to do this the right way. Please have faith in me that I will do everything in my power to protect those I love."
"I do have faith in your abilities to protect us," she protested, turning in his arms to face him. "But who will protect you?"
He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her damp cheek. "That is my Shai, always looking out for everyone else. I am an Elder, one of the oldest and strongest vampires on the planet."
"So is Mikhail," she argued.
"Yes, but he doesn't have you. With you in my corner I can take on the Devil himself and win."
Shai leaned her forehead against his chest, savoring the feel of his strong arms around her. Would the Council take Val away from her? Would they destroy her future and leave her alone for an eternity? She had no faith in this nameless, faceless Council, and from what she'd heard over the years, her lack of faith was warranted. It could happen, they could destroy both Val and Mikhail, taking her life in the process.
She pulled away and met his gaze. "Make love to me," she whispered.
Admiration lit the darkness of his eyes. "My pleasure."
Shai moved out of his embrace. Tugging on the sash of her robe, she heard his stifled groan as the silk parted, revealing her nudity. As if transfixed, Val reached out, trailing his fingers over her collarbone. He lightly caressed her skin as he followed the edge of the robe down her body, his eyes worshipping her.
"I love you," he whispered.
She smiled. Love blossomed in her chest, pushing the fear and anger away for now. If the fates conspired to take this man away from her, she wanted to love him as fully as she could for the time she had.
She was in pain.
Mac stood outside the isolated house in the countryside surrounding Westhumble. Soon the sun would rise, but for now the darkness was a balm to the anger that churned in his gut. He pressed his palm against the solid oak door and instantly he was hit with a wave of jumbled emotions.
He closed his eyes, but, against his wishes, the images invaded his mind. The narrow twisting stairway that led into darkness, Mikhail's laughing visage and Miranda, tortured as she lay bound to the narrow cot.
Exhaling slowly, Mac retrieved his lock pick case from his pocket and extracted a thin wire pick. With the ease of long practice, he crouched down on level with the solid dead-bolt lock and set to work. Within seconds the tumblers clattered then fell silent. Replacing his tool, he tucked the case in his pocket, and opened the door and stepped into the house. The silence and the golden light from a single small lamp wrapped around him like a warm quilt.
Mac quietly shut the door and moved deeper into Jennifer's lair. He'd been to the house on several occasions to visit with Fayne. It was a comfortable house with all the amenities and the latest gadgets. Fayne was a big fan of technology; the more toys the better and he amassed them all. As he walked toward the living room arch, he ignored the comfortable furniture and the exquisite artwork. Instead, he focused on the little touches of the woman he'd loved to distraction over a century ago.
A red silk scarf was tossed carelessly over the back of the gray leather couch. A pair of diamond earrings winked at him from the coffee table while black leather ankle boots lay tumbled beneath it. He walked down the three steps into the sunken living room, moving instinctively toward the oversized fireplace. The bookcases that flanked it were filled to overflowing with an assortment of leather-bound books, battered paperbacks and little knickknacks. A tiny Native American bear fetish frolicked with a porcelain unicorn in a lopsided clay ashtray, while a crystal Lalique angel watched from above. There was neither design nor form to the contents, yet harmony reigned, just like the woman herself.
He found himself reaching for the angel, halting seconds before his fingers brushed the crystal. He dropped his arm and turned away from the bookshelves and the contradictions that they presented to him. Coals glowed in the fireplace as he stepped toward it. On the mantel were a variety of unmatched candlesticks with white candles, and in the center of the mantel were the roses.
One dozen long-stemmed glass roses in a black glass vase. A shaft of pain stabbed him as he stared at the gleaming flowers. He remembered the day so long ago in Germany. It had been raining and they were walking along the deserted streets in Munich. The sun had long been hidden behind the black clouds when they came upon a glass blower hard at work. In the graying before nightfall, they'd watched for hours, fascinated, while he created the delicate blooms
. Mac purchased one dozen for the woman he loved.
The woman he loved.
The woman he had loved, he corrected. He didn't love her now. He scowled at the offending blooms, wanting to knock them off the mantel to shatter on the stone hearth. While he'd fallen head over heels in love with her over a century ago, had she ever loved him? She'd certainly left him without a blink of an eye and run as quickly as she could to Mikhail. Long buried rage hummed along his skin.
Disgusted, he forced himself away from the mantel, but something in the coals caught his eye. Frowning, he dropped into a crouch and pulled the object from the ashes. A scrap of burgundy cloth had escaped the flames. He frowned. What had Jennifer been burning the fireplace?
He picked up the poker and shifted through the glowing coals, which yielded a melted lump attached to a scrap of cloth. A button? Why was she burning clothing in the fireplace? He glanced at the ceiling. He needed some answers and the only person who could answer them was probably upstairs sound asleep.
Determined to find those answers, he turned toward the staircase and climbed into the shadowed loft. There he found Jennifer. The glow from several small candles in a variety of thick green glass holders illuminated the room and the woman who lay on the tester bed. She lay on her side, curled into a partial fetal position. Her damp hair was strewn over her pillow and she appeared to be sleeping heavily. Yellow sweat pants, and a gray sweatshirt, and thick white athletic socks covered her generous figure from head to toe. A small pharmacy bottle stood on the bedside table next to a half-filled glass of water.
Picking up the bottle, he frowned as he read the label. Sedatives? He never would have guessed that Jennifer would resort to sedatives, no matter what the situation. Then again, he never would have guessed that she preferred sleeping fully clothed either. She'd struck him as a silk and lace kind of woman. Not that he'd ever seen her in a bedroom before. In their previous relationship, Jennifer was the one who'd always called a halt to their lovemaking before they consummated it, much to his chagrin. It'd seemed then that she was the one woman who could resist his charms and that made her all the more desirable to him. Had she been unable to resist Mikhail?
Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 2 Page 3