Blood Bond asc-9

by Jeanne C. Stein

  “You’re smiling again,” Mom says, with a smile brightening her own voice.

  Color floods my cheeks. I pull myself from the bedroom back to the present, reach over and give her a hug. “It seems so strange. I’m happy—really happy—for the first time in such a long time. And I want to share it with you. I want you to be a part of our lives. But we need time—”

  “I told you,” she interrupts gently. “I’ll always be with you. Don’t feel guilty for being happy. Coming here, sharing your happiness, has been the best medicine I could have hoped for. In fact—”

  Mom breaks off. She grasps my hands. There’s a definite twinkle in her eyes that makes me go, Uh-oh. What are you thinking?

  “I just had the most wonderful idea.” She clasps her hands together. “It’s the one thing you could do for me. You and Daniel.”

  “Go on . . .”

  “Get married here. Right away. Let me do this for you. Your father and I could arrange the most beautiful wedding. Oh, Anna, it would be perfect.”

  The very last thing I would have expected her to say. I sit back, “But, Mom. It’s too much. You can’t tire yourself out. Planning a wedding is a lot of work. And Frey and I haven’t even set a date yet. I don’t know if he’d want to get married so soon.”

  “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Of course he wants to get married right away. In any case, it wouldn’t hurt to ask him, would it?”

  “Ask who what?”

  A voice from the doorway. Frey’s. He and my father back from their walk. He comes over and stands between my mother’s chair and mine. He smiles down at us. “Ask who what?” he says again.

  I roll my eyes and look toward my mother. “Mom had an idea. Now, if you don’t want to do it, I understand. It’s kind of out of the blue and we haven’t talked about it yet. So be honest. My feelings won’t be hurt if you think it’s too soon.”

  “Too soon for what?”

  He’s looking from one of us to the other. I take his hand. “Mom wants us to be married here. It’s rushing things, I know and you can—”

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

  Frey’s answer stops me short.

  “You do?”

  “Of course. Why should we wait?” He looks at my mother. “My only question is how it will affect your health? Now between Anna and me and Trish and James, I’m pretty sure we can do most of the heavy lifting. But as mother of the bride, you have a big role to play. Are you really up for it?”

  Mom’s face radiates joy. “Nothing would make me happier.”

  Dad has come to join us. “What’s this I hear? We’re going to have a wedding?”

  I look around at the three people gathered around me and find myself grinning. Not having given the ceremony any thought, I’d supposed Frey and I would elope—Vegas maybe—with David and Trish as witnesses.

  But now . . .

  A wedding.

  We’re going to have a wedding. I roll the thought around in my head, tasting it like some exotic food.

  Anna Strong. Kick-ass vampire. The Chosen One.

  I’m going to have a wedding.

  Frey and Mom and Dad are already tossing ideas back and forth. The atmosphere is festive and full of excitement.

  Hopeful. Happy.

  I see the elation on my mother’s face.

  I’m sure it’s mirrored on mine.

  I’m going to have a real, honest-to-god wedding. I look at my mother. “Nothing fancy, though, okay? No long white dress and veil.”

  “No jeans, either,” my mom quips back.

  “Deal.”

  The four of us spend the next hour or so making lists and assigning chores. There isn’t much for Frey and I to do except decide who we want to officiate and where we need to go to get the required certificates. With the help of the folks’ trusty computer we soon determine in spite of all the paperwork required, a wedding in two weeks is doable.

  My head is swimming. We put a call into the American Consulate in Nice and make an appointment to go the next day to set the wheels in motion. Mom says she has copies of my birth certificate. She’ll dig one out to take with me to the consulate tomorrow. Frey is sure he can have a lawyer friend back in San Diego send his since most of his papers are still in the condo there. He gets right on the phone and makes arrangements.

  I watch in shock and wonder. And a bit of trepidation. I can’t help feeling I’ve pressured Frey into this. Mom plans a celebratory dinner and asks Frey and me to go into town to pick up a few things. I jump at the chance. It will give the two of us time to talk. I want Frey to understand that I love his enthusiasm but have to know it’s not just for my mom’s benefit. If we need to, we can get out of it.

  Dad walks us outside and hands us the keys to the Citroën. “Do you remember the way into town?” he asks.

  I nod. And stand on tiptoe to give his cheek a peck. “Thank you,” I say.

  “Are you kidding?” he shoots back. “This is the best thing that’s happened to your mother in months. I can’t wait to tell Trish and John-John.” He stops and quirks an eyebrow at Frey. “Unless you’d rather I not say anything until you can tell him yourself, Daniel.”

  Frey grins. “You can tell him. He wanted us to be married as soon as Anna said yes to my proposal. He’ll be thrilled!”

  Once Frey and I are on the road, I ask, “Is that true? John-John wanted us to get married right away?”

  Frey, in the passenger seat, glances over. “Are you afraid he would think it too soon after losing his mother?” he asks quietly.

  I nod, keeping my eyes on the road.

  He reaches over and squeezes my knee. “No. John-John loves you. He wants us to be a family. He’ll always love his mother, but he sees in you what I do. Besides, neither of us wants to take the chance you’ll change your mind.”

  The last is said with a hint of humor. I don’t answer, my throat suddenly tight with emotion. How could I change my mind? I’m about to get everything I’d thought unobtainable to me since becoming vampire—a husband who is strong, brave and understanding and a child to love as if he was my very own.

  CHAPTER 11

  LORGUES HAS THE FEEL OF A MEDIEVAL VILLAGE WITH the shopping amenities of a modern city. Frey and I spend an hour wandering the narrow streets hand in hand. Frey has never been here before and he’s as taken with the vaulted passages, ancient stairs and elaborate stone carvings on the buildings and doorways as I was at first sight.

  It’s a beautiful spring day, and after checking off all the items on Mom’s shopping list, we stop for coffee in an outdoor café on the Boulevard Georges Clemenceau. The sky is deep blue and cloudless, the air still.

  Frey breathes it in. “I can see why your family loves it here.”

  I let my gaze wander up and down the street. Across from us, the open-air market we visited earlier teems with shoppers. The pile of our own packages, tucked under the table, holds bread, fresh vegetables, olives. It’s still too early for the platan trees lining the streets and parks to have budded, and their white spindly trunks look like skeleton hands lifting bony fingers to the sky. Most of the buildings in Lorgues are painted soft pastels or brilliant primary colors with shutters of contrasting blue or green. It’s an artist’s concept of a French village . . . only real.

  Once again I find myself grudgingly admiring Avery’s choices. He couldn’t have picked a more beautiful spot to set down eternal roots.

  Frey picks up my hand and gently squeezes. “Are you thinking of Avery?”

  I look at him in surprise. “How did you know?”

  He points to the bridge of my nose. “You get a furrow, right there, whenever you think of him.”

  His comment makes me laugh. “Wow. Who needs mind reading when you have such keen powers of observation.”

  “It’s true. I know you very well.”

  I place one of my hands over his. “Better than I know myself, I think.”

  Our coffee arrives and we settle back to enjoy it. One
of the things I appreciate most about Frey is that we can be quiet around one another. As we are now, each alone with our own thoughts, but connected in a way that transcends words. It’s a heady, comfortable feeling.

  Until I feel him suddenly tense beside me. When I look at him, his face is drawn, tight with anger and taut with the primal instinct to defend. A low growl escapes his throat, the panther at the ready.

  His reaction is so unexpected, it brings vampire to the surface, too. I swing around, senses on alert, scanning the crowd until I find a face I recognize.

  A face Frey recognizes.

  A face we intuitively know is about to shatter the peace we’ve found as surely as the cup I’ve let slip from my fingers shatters on the sidewalk at my feet.

  A waiter approaches and makes quick work of cleaning up my broken cup, tsking and mumbling in French but reappearing in an instant with a new cup.

  Along with a third for the man now standing beside the table.

  Chael.

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAEL. MY TONE IS GUARDED, CLIPPED. WHAT ARE you doing here?

  In his perfectly tailored Armani, a white linen shirt open at the neck and polished brogues, he looks right at home in this French sidewalk café. Only his complexion and eyes, dark and exotic, emphasize his mideastern rather than French roots. He is, in fact, the head of the Middle Eastern Vampire Tribe and literally the last man, human or vampire, I would have expected to run into here.

  With a snapping of fingers, and flawless French, he bids the waiter to fetch another chair.

  Somehow his rudeness appeals to the waiter, who while only a moment ago was grousing at me for dropping a cup, now springs into action to not only grab a chair from another table but hold it out for Chael to slip into.

  Irrationally, his imposing presence ratchets my dislike for Chael up another notch.

  I asked what you are doing here. I did not invite you to join us.

  Frey has my hand under the table. He will not be able to hear what I’m saying—since Chael speaks no English we must communicate telepathically—but he will understand Chael’s side of the conversation. He squeezes my hand softly, as if assuring me that he has my back.

  Chael, for his part, has taken a leisurely drink from his cup. His eyes flick to Frey. He knows him, from Monument Valley, knows he’s a shape-shifter, knows he’s my friend, but he neither acknowledges his presence nor bothers to demand he leave us while we talk.

  He merely dismisses him entirely by ignoring him and shifting his gaze to peer at me intently over the rim. You still see me as an enemy.

  Not an enemy. An annoyance. A rude annoyance. The words resonate in my head like a hiss. Like a mosquito I’m about to swat.

  He laughs. Colorful as ever, Anna. But there is a reason I am here. Just as I believe it was fate that you should arrive here, too, at just this moment. When I heard you were coming, I—

  A chill touches the back of my neck. We, Frey and I, had only found out about my mother’s illness a day ago. No one else knew except David and Tracey. How could you know I was coming to France?

  Chael lifts his well-dressed shoulders. You are an important figure to the vampire community. I make it my business to know what you do as I’m sure most of the leaders of the Thirteen Tribes do as well.

  You have me followed?

  Nothing so pedestrian, he replies, his tone registering disdain that I would think so little of him. I have contacts in all major airports. When your pilot filed his flight plan, I was notified.

  Just like that? Anger sends the blood racing. Not for the first time, I want to slap that smug smile off his elegant face. Frey must feel my body tense, because he squeezes my hand again.

  I exhale. So why are you here? I won’t ask again.

  This time, Chael lets the smile fall from his face. He leans toward me. I told you in Monument Valley if you let me go, I would be indebted to you. I intend to honor that pledge. It’s why I’m here. To warn you. But first, to help you.

  Help me?

  Your mother. I know she is very ill. If you should decide to bring her over, to make her one of us, I offer my services to see . . .

  My stomach clenches. Don’t speak of my mother.

  The anger, the challenge in my voice makes Chael blanche. He bobs his head, once.

  Fine. Then there is just one thing we need to discuss. Something of utmost importance to the vampire world.

  I release a sigh. Chael, melodramatic as ever. I keep my thoughts guarded. Go on.

  Have you never wondered why there was no ambassador from Europe in attendance when you were acknowledged as the Chosen One?

  Until this very moment, no. I’d never noticed. I was too busy fighting for my life. I meet Chael’s eyes. Explain.

  He leans back in his chair, cup in hand, legs crossed. The European vampires refuse to join the Council. Have from the beginning. They are among the oldest, some say the first, vampires in existence. They are also the most powerful—at least in their own eyes.

  He takes a sip of coffee, wipes at his lips with a napkin. They are well organized and disciplined. And answer to a vampire who calls himself King Steffan.

  That brings a snicker to my lips. How like an old-soul vampire to proclaim himself a king. But something in Chael’s manner makes me swallow back the sarcasm. His thoughts are dark and his tone concerned. His usual cockiness and arrogance are not in evidence, either. Which, above all else, makes me uneasy. I incline my head in a go-ahead gesture.

  There have been rumors circulating lately. Steffan is ready to begin the process that will end human domination over the vampire. He sees the collapse of the European Union and the decline of the United States as a world power as a signal that the time is ripe to put his plan into action.

  I pass a hand over my face in frustration. As usual, Chael exercises his penchant for overstatement. Collapse of the EU? Decline of the U.S.? Another scheme to achieve vampire world domination?

  I’ve heard this before. I glare pointedly at Chael. It’s a very familiar refrain. And just what is King Steffan’s plan?

  Chael plunges ahead as if my voice exuded enthusiasm instead of dripping sarcasm. I don’t know the details. It’s a closely guarded secret among Steffan’s inner circle. But what I do know is that if he is to be stopped, it must be now, before he has a chance to rally his supporters. And I understand there are humans who are ready to fall in line with him, too. It’s a serious threat.

  I throw up my hands. Why would he listen to me if he does not acknowledge the Council? I would have to assume my title as the Chosen One would hold no sway over him.

  Chael smiles, but a smile that is cold and just a bit resentful. True. But you have proven yourself a mighty arbiter. After all, you convinced the Thirteen Tribes to turn down my plan.

  Ah, for the first time a bit of the old Chael shines through. Which makes me wonder again why you’ve come to me. Steffan sounds like someone you would want to join forces with.

  Chael and I have both been carefully guarding our thoughts, letting only what we wish the other to know to come through. Now he lets down the barrier completely, allowing me to feel as well as hear the sincerity of his words.

  I am indebted to you. You could have taken my life in Monument Valley. You did not. For that, I owe you allegiance. I do not think Steffan is the kind of vampire to be allowed to risk our very existence in his attempt to overthrow our human brethren. You are the strongest vampire. If you cannot reason with him, you have only one alternative.

  I raise my eyebrows, guessing what is to come next but wanting to hear Chael say it anyway.

  You must kill him.

  I sit back in my chair. Chael, you sly dog. You are either the best actor in the world, or you’ve managed to find a way to cloak your real feelings. I don’t buy for one moment that you’d prefer Steffan’s death over mine.

  Chael shrugs, shakes his head. I don’t know what I can do to convince you of my sincerity. I can only report to you what I know. It’s up
to you to decide if the threat merits your attention.

  Shit. Along with everything going on in my life, my mother’s illness, the upcoming nuptials, I now have one more thing to worry about? Chael knows I can’t let this threat go. At least until I’ve met Steffan and can assess the situation myself. All this I keep hidden from Chael until I open my thoughts to say with a reluctant sigh, Can you arrange a meeting?

  Yes. I will do so. How do I get in touch with you?

  Is that relief I hear ring through, or satisfaction?

  I give him my cell number. I will be busy for the next couple of days. Try to set up the meeting for Thursday evening. Can you do that?

  Chael nods and pushes up from the table. I will be in touch.

  And then he is gone, melting back into the throng on the sidewalk as subtly and artfully as he appeared.

  Frey releases a long breath. “Do you believe him?”

  But I have something else I want to say before I talk about Chael. I lean over. “Thank you. For being here. For putting up with this crap. You know it’s not going to get any better. No matter where we go we might run into Chael or one of his counterparts.”

  “Comes with the territory,” he replies matter-of-factly. “I knew you were the Chosen One from the beginning. It’s part of the package.”

  I take his hand and press it to my lips. “Some package.” Then I sit back. “As far as I can tell, Chael was perfectly sincere in what he said. As for the rest of it, I won’t know about Steffan until we’re face-to-face.”

  “You won’t be alone,” Frey says. His jaw tightens. “I will be with you when you meet him.”

  I look away. That may not be possible, for Frey’s own protection, but it’s also not something I want to argue about now. In fact, I don’t want to argue about anything. Nor do I want to think about Chael. I have two days before I hear from Chael about a meeting. I motion to the waiter for the check.

  “Let’s get back,” I say, gathering the shopping bags. “I want to spend as much time as possible with my folks and the kids. I don’t want to think about Chael or this King Steffan or anything remotely connected with vampires. I want only to think about you and our wedding. Happy things.”