The French doors slammed shut and Capone stood there, between her and the rooftop. “I suggest you reconsider. I might give you time to think, but the sun won’t wait.”
Macey gritted her teeth. Sebastian. “Why? Why do you want me? I’m just a weak broad. Won’t you look ridiculous with itty-bitty me standing next to you, protecting you?”
“Cut the shit. I don’t know who you’re tryin’ to fool, Macey Gardella. You’re the one. And your friend out there—he might have a death wish, but I doubt your boyfriend does. Or your other friend. Or…well, take a look.” He gestured to the desk.
Cold and numb, Macey walked over to find a slew of photos strewn over its surface. Pictures of her—with Mrs. Gutchinson, with Chelle and Dottie…and Grady. Coming out of the Harper Library, talking to her co-worker Leena. And more.
“I hate it when people get caught in the crossfire,” Capone commented as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. “But it happens.”
It happened with Grady’s aunt.
It happened, in an entirely different but even uglier way, with Chelle and Mrs. G.
And Flora.
Her stomach rebelled and it was all she could do to hold back the bile.
She was trapped.
Capone had put down his gun and now held the whiskey. He was no longer standing in front of the French doors. “I trust you’re convinced?”
“You’re even more cold hearted than they say.”
He smiled thinly. “Don’t believe the damned gossip, Macey Gardella. Believe the prophecy.”
She frowned. “Prophecy?”
“As written by Rosamunde Gardella. The mystic.”
Macey was bewildered, but she nodded. “Yes. But how do you…”
“She wrote a verse I found most interesting. ‘From the deepest bowels of madness and grief shall the dauntless one root, who shall go forth to lay bare from the earth this condemned evil. The dauntless one shall make the half of the whole, and the whole shall be formidable as the ocean and unyielding as the mountain.’ You, doll, are the dauntless one. And I,” said Capone as he began to unbutton his shirt, “am the other half of the whole.”
Macey stared in astonishment as the gangster pulled the white cotton apart, revealing his bare belly. It was surprisingly muscular and tighter than she’d expected, but that wasn’t what caused her to snatch in her breath.
For, in the midst of the thatch of thick, dark hair was a tiny silver cross, pierced through the skin of his navel.
Macey couldn’t speak for several long moments. Then finally, she had to say it aloud. “You’re a Venator.”
“Alphonsus Gardella Capone. Don’t tell me my name isn’t listed in the family Bible.” His smile was half sneer, half bravado.
Just then, Macey noticed the bright sun filtering through the curtains on the French doors. It was brighter than before; its reach broader. “Sebastian!”
Capone moved faster than she’d expected, catching her by the arm and spinning her up against the entrance in one smooth flow. The doors crashed and rattled with the force, and the wind was knocked from her lungs. “Do you accept my proposal?”
She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath. Thought not only of Sebastian, but of Grady. And Dottie. And anyone else she’d touched. Dammit…Flora too.
“Yes,” she hissed in agreement.
Capone released her. She flung open the doors and was halfway across the brilliant sunlit roof by the time she realized Sebastian was gone. The ropes lay in empty crumples amid the remnants of the chair she’d flung at her captor.
The space was silent and still. No copper rings. No ash filtering through the air. She released a long, slow breath.
Macey turned to see her new employer—no, partner—standing in the doorway.
Al Capone had won this battle. They would work together to stop the undead, and God help her, she’d do her best to protect the man as well.
But she was going to make damned certain he didn’t win the war.
EPILOGUE
~ A Damned Lonely Life ~
Macey was still wearing her tattered dress and the coat she’d taken from Alvisi’s hideaway.
Weighted with grief and despair, she walked and walked and walked. More passersby, more children, more families, more friends and colleagues and lovers.
These were the people she had sworn to protect.
These were the people of whom she must think…not herself. Not her losses. Not her fears and loneliness.
And that was when she understood what her father had done. Why he’d sent her away. To protect himself as much as to protect her.
Her eyes burned suddenly and she blinked rapidly. If only he were still here...still here, for her to talk to.
Oh, God, she needed someone.
She stopped and looked up. The red and white Tribune sign rose above her, and she blocked the sidewalk, but she couldn’t make herself move. How had she ended up here? In all of Chicago, after all the blocks…why here?
“Macey.”
She spun, startled. “Grady.” And why now?
He took her by the arm before she could turn away. Or maybe she purposely didn’t move fast enough. The coat shifted and he saw the front of her—a dress that had once been light blue was now stained mahogany. But she hardly felt the pain anymore.
“My God, you need a doctor. Something. Macey. Let me take you…somewhere.” He should have been angry and put off. Furious with her. But his voice sounded tight and devastated. His eyes were a stormy, tortured blue. “Please.”
She steeled herself to be cool and remote. But she faltered when she saw the purple and green bruise on his chin. I’m sorry, Grady. “It’s nothing. I was on my way—”
“You can’t just leave like this. Like you did last night.”
Had it only been last night, late yesterday, that she’d been skin to skin with him? Sleeping, innocent, sated in his arms?
“I’m sorry, Grady. I can’t…I told you, I can’t do this. I shouldn’t have…” Stopped here. Waited to see you. Hoped to see you.
Damn me. “I have to go.”
“Macey.”
“Take care of yourself, Grady. Please take care.” She turned and gestured, blinking rapidly. The black automobile that had been following her for blocks pulled up to the curb.
Grady’s eyes went to the vehicle, to the man who stepped out and opened the door, and then back to Macey. Comprehension dawned. “Macey, what are you doing? Do you know what you’re doing? With him? With them?”
Nearly the same words she’d spoken to Flora. In the same confused, repulsed tone. How utterly, horribly ironic.
Macey swallowed hard and turned to the car. “Goodbye, Grady,” she said as she climbed in.
The door closed.
And Macey sealed the deal with her own devil.
~*~*~
~*~
Author’s Note
History buffs and experts on Chicago gangsterology (my own made-up word!) will note I took a bit of artistic license in Roaring Midnight: Al Capone didn’t actually move into the Lexington Hotel until 1926.
And for those of you who’d like to know more about Chas Woodmore and his ill-fated affair with Narcise Moldavi, I refer you to The Vampire Narcise, as well as the other two books in my Regency Draculia trilogy, The Vampire Voss and The Vampire Dimitri.
The official reading order of the books is Voss, Dimitri, and then Narcise, but you will lose very little if you read them out of order—or just the third one—for they all overlap. Chas plays a major role in The Vampire Narcise.
Thank you for reading!
Colleen Gleason
Don’t miss the next installment in the Gardella Vampire Chronicles…
coming soon!
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Collee
n Gleason is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than two dozen novels. Her books have been translated into more than seven languages, and she writes in a variety of genres.
She loves to hear from readers via her website or her Facebook page.
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Check out Colleen’s award-winning dystopian/time-travel series,
writing as Joss Ware…
The Envy Chronicles
Beyond the Night
Embrace the Night Eternal
Abandon the Night
Night Betrayed
Night Forbidden
Night Resurrected
~
Everything they knew is gone…
From the remnants of devastation, five men emerge with extraordinary new powers.
They are humankind’s last hope…but they cannot survive this ravaged world alone.
~
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Epilogue
Roaring Midnight (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles | Macey #1) Page 25