Vampire Assassin League Bundle Five - Loneliness

by Jackie Ivie

  “Now you’re going to tell me I imagined...that lovemaking session?”

  “Oh no. No. Rachel. That was real. And perfect. Well beyond anything I have ever experienced. Ever.” Wystan pulled in a large breath, expanding his chest before exhaling with a heavy sigh. “This is not working. I’ll try explaining another way. Have you ever heard of soul mates?”

  Her eyes went even wider.

  “You have? You’ve heard of soul-mates? Two beings destined for each other? Regardless of time and physical restraints? Regardless even...of death? You have heard of that?”

  “That’s another...bit of fiction, Wystan. Studies have proven the ability to love more than one person in a lifetime.”

  “I’m not talking about just love!”

  He didn’t control his voice. More armor fell in the room about them. She pulled her hands free and covered her face with them. And he’d promised not to scare her!

  “Rachel, please? Forgive my outburst. I’ll try to control it better. It’s just—! I’m just—! Ah!”

  Wystan arched backwards and let the emotion out. That was stupid. A thud resounded through the room as something heavy fell, and two of the torches blew out. She was still hiding behind her hands when he looked back at her. He was failing at chivalrous behavior, too. The one thing a knight would never do was accost and frighten a lady.

  He swallowed.

  ”My lady. Please. I...am speaking so poorly, because it means so much to me. I will try and be more succinct and less emotional. Please say you forgive me and will listen still. Please?”

  She nodded. She didn’t move her hands. It was the only sign she gave. It would have to be enough. He didn’t know what to do, so he started talking again.

  “You mention love, and—oh! I don’t know. When I was alive before, they spoke of courtly love. Such a love was supposed to transcend physical lust. It didn’t seem real. It seemed overly-dramatic and false...a way for a knight to get a lady’s favor in a joust. Perhaps gain employment with a powerful lord through his wife. I couldn’t help hearing about it, though. Troubadours sang for hours on the subject. I never experienced it. Perhaps one can love more than once in a lifetime. I don’t know.

  “That isn’t a mate, Rachel. I’m speaking of soul-mates. It’s not just love. It is so much more. A mate-bond is something that can reach through an eternity of lifelessness and kick a dead heart back to life. It is that powerful. I was told about it when I was first changed. I didn’t believe. It didn’t exist. It was a dream. It wasn’t real. For centuries of time I was right. And then...things changed. The moment you drew near, my heart started beating again. My emotions returned. My passions. My...ah! I still can’t explain. My entire world has been upended. All I know is, I have a mate. And I found her. You.”

  She pulled her hands down, covering her mouth with her fingers while she regarded him.

  “What else can I say? What shall I do? Don’t...you feel it, too?”

  As he watched, her eyes went wet. Shiny. Looking exactly like polished silver.

  I made her cry? No. Oh, no.

  ”Please don’t cry, my love.”

  She sniffed, blinked, and a solitary tear dropped onto her cheek. A swell of emotion slammed through him. It electrified, and it terrified. Now, Wystan was trembling.

  “Forgive me. I went too fast.”

  She shook her head.

  “I didn’t go fast enough?”

  “I don’t know...what to say,” she told him.

  “Say that you feel it, too. You have to! You must! Maybe not when we first met, but surely you felt it later...when we joined? I have never felt such wonder, Rachel Berne. Please say you felt it, too? Something? Anything?”

  “Wystan. Please.”

  His newly-awakened heart kept pumping, sending something heavy and painful with each beat.

  “Rachel. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel anything for me.”

  “We...just met.”

  “Yes. We did. But time is meaningless. When you’ve existed for enough of it, you learn that. Yes, we just met. And yes, I am going too fast. But I don’t know any other way! What else I can say? I used to think I had nothing but time. Now it feels like I’ve got seconds to convince you of what you mean to me. I’ve never had a mate. I’ll never have another. You are everything to me, Rachel Berne. Everything. My future. My life. My joy.”

  “Wystan?”

  She didn’t sound convinced. She sounded impossibly young, and immeasurably unsure. And slightly frightened. Wystan bowed his head and shook with what couldn’t possibly be sobs. No. Never. Not a knight of the Honor Garter. His eyes burned. A knot formed in his throat, making an obstruction he had to swallow around. It wasn’t possible. He’d failed? And now, he was ready to cry?

  Wystan raced to a lance and brought it back. He’d moved so quickly, she still had her hands atop her mouth and the exact same look on her face. He had to blink rapidly in order to see. And then look away just as quickly. He couldn’t tell what her expression signified. Horror?

  He spoke to the span of room on his right.

  “Rachel Berne. You are my mate. My one...and my only. I love you. I do not lie. I am not a fraud. And I am not remotely insane. I am simply a vampire who has found his mate. But it is supposed to be a wondrous thing, not a pain beyond comprehension.”

  “What are you doing, Wystan?”

  He swallowed. The knot shifted. It made his voice gruff. “There are two certain ways to kill a vampire, Rachel. Sunlight is not one of them. That only works with the newly created.”

  “So, that’s why it failed.”

  He nodded. He didn’t dare look up at her. His heart was a solid throb of agony, sending pain with every continued beat. He didn’t know what might happen if he looked at her. He might do something completely ignoble and burst into sobs. It was an actual possibility that alarmed and panicked. And those emotions he’d never dealt with before, either.

  “One...method is to slice the head off.” His body shuddered with emotion he couldn’t suppress. His voice betrayed him, too, as each word trembled. He lifted the lance and even it shook visibly. “The other method is well known. It’s a wooden stake, shoved right through the heart.”

  Wystan smacked a fist into the lance. It broke, leaving two uneven ends. He tossed the one with the spike over his shoulder. It hit something breakable. He heard glass shatter and more sounds of items falling. He didn’t care what it was. Not anymore. He ran a thumb over the end of the section he still held. It was jagged, but not quite sharp enough. He picked up the sword and started carving, using brutal swift strokes that whittled the end to a spike.

  “Wystan? What...are you doing?”

  There.

  The stake looked just about perfect. Wystan looked up at her. Blinked her into focus. And then looked away.

  “I need you to make a call now, my lady.”

  “A...call?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who am I calling?”

  “It won’t matter. Your friend Munson will do. Tell her about me. Be sure to speak of a vampire. Tell her my history. Exactly as I told you. Stay on the line for at least forty-one seconds. Longer, if possible.”

  “Why forty-one seconds?”

  “I’ve been told that is enough time to find a signal and trace it. And after the call, I need you to leave. Hide somewhere. Or...I suppose you can stay and watch.”

  “Watch...for what?”

  “Hunters. They’ve got a camp near the coast. They think it’s hidden. Or, they may send a group from Manchester. That’s their base.”

  “Hunters?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s such a thing as a vampire hunter, too?”

  Wystan nodded.

  “So...why did you make a stake for them?”

  “They’re fairly inept. I’m making certain…they can’t miss.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?’

  “Make the call, Rachel.”

  Wystan bowed h
is head and waited, alert to the sound of her pushing buttons. Instead he got the sound of more glass shattering. And then a lot of tinkling sounds. He looked up in time to watch Rachel move off the cushion and join him on the floor. She took the stake from his nerveless fingers and chucked it, too.

  She didn’t hit anything other than a wall. Wystan was frowning as the sound of a rolling stick finally stopped. She dusted her hands together, using exaggerated broad strokes and then she planted them on her knees.

  “What...are you doing?” he asked.

  “Taking a turn.”

  She tipped her chin up and then she smiled. Wystan blinked rapidly several times. Her expression didn’t change.

  “At what?”

  “Breaking stuff.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Looked like fun. And I had to get that stake away from you somehow...now, didn’t I?”

  “Uh...Rachel?”

  “Besides...I think this place is a bit archaic. You know...” she wrinkled her nose. “Old. It really could use a woman’s touch. Just as long as you don’t expect me to clean up the mess, anyway.”

  She scooted closer. Wystan watched her. He was afraid to move. Breathe. Think. Hope was a very scary thing at the moment.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying, Sir Wystan Ryn de Crecy? Or do I need to get more specific?”

  “Um...”

  “You’re really kind of cute with that confused look on your face. Oh. What am I saying? You’re always cute. And yes, I feel something pretty powerful. And yes. I could very easily admit to loving you. But no. I’m not exactly sold on this vampire thing...but if it’s at all like last night—whoa! You can fly, too?”

  He’d seized her up and held her. Close to his heart. Her arms were locked about his shoulders. Her legs wrapped about his hips.

  She called this flying?

  It was more like soaring.

  And if the de Crecy banners hadn’t stopped him, he’d have probably slammed right through the stone vaulted ceiling.

  And he wouldn’t have cared about that, either.

  -o0o-

  CHAPTER ONE

  Paris

  One small word, in tiny font appeared on his monitor. It sent an eerie yellow glow into his cavernous chamber. Sebastian watched the word flicker on his monitor for a few moments before he typed his answer.

  ‘I detest Paris.’

  The answer was immediate. In bolder font.

  You detest most things.

  ‘You know the reason.’

  Inconsequential. Your assignment is in Paris.

  ‘Give it to someone else.’

  You’re closest.

  ‘I’m in Bruges.’

  Grab a cell.

  The screen went dark. The chamber about him lost its lone source of illumination as the little blue connection light faded. Sebastian reached for the eight-pack of slim-phones in his back pocket. He pulled one out. He didn’t like phones, either, but it was now his fault.

  He’d listed his location.

  On the World Wide Web.

  Where it could be traced.

  He’d probably have to move to the caverns beneath Castle Venderlyn now. He pondered that while he waited. It wasn’t much of an issue. All his homes were pretty much the same, richly-furnished. Private. Quiet. Dark. They were all deep in the ground beneath ancient castles that doubled as sometime-inns. That disguised his electrical usage. And any errant smoke... if he made a fire in a fireplace.

  Hmm. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d made a fire. No need for the light, the heat, or the ambiance. The phone in his palm vibrated. He slid the receiver open and put it to an ear.

  “Sebastian... Cole.”

  His name came with authority and power, as if intoning a lengthy sentence. It also carried a hint of amusement. He was dealing with the head of the Vampire Assassin League. One of Akron’s attributes was a powerful voice. The speaker on Sebastian’s cell phone crackled with bass tones. Sebastian smirked before mimicking the greeting. Exactly.

  “Akron... Profit.”

  “You have an assignment. In Paris.”

  “Not interested.”

  “It involves a politician.”

  Sebastian hesitated, momentarily paused. He detested Paris, but he really hated politicians. “Have someone else do it.”

  “Actually... I should clarify some more. The assignment actually entails a bit of sex and sleaze along with the politics.”

  “So?”

  “I’m trying to pique your interest.”

  “You failed.”

  Sebastian clicked the lid shut on his credit-card sized phone. His entire back pocket jolted with the reaction as more than one cell phone rang. He reached back and pulled the pack out, slid out another. Opened it. Put it to his ear.

  “Don’t hang up on me again, Sebastian. You won’t enjoy the consequences.”

  Sebastian considered his options. None of them were acceptable. He’d discovered that back in the seventeenth century when he’d physically fought Akron.

  He’d lost.

  “Why me?” he asked finally.

  “Like I said... you’re closest.”

  “There are eight associates in France.”

  “Probably more.”

  “And I’m closest?”

  Akron chuckled. “I really do like you, Sebastian. You’re quick. Argumentative. Confident. And entirely too stuck in your ways. This is your hit. Trust me.”

  “Negative.”

  “Whoa. I can’t believe my ears, Sir. He’s telling you no. You.”

  That sounded like Nigel, the youngest assassin, and the most annoying. That wasn’t amusing. Sebastian hadn’t known Nigel was listening in. There was a bit of silence before Akron answered.

  “I believe I’m getting that message as well, Nigel. Thank you for bringing it up.”

  “What did he do?” Sebastian asked.

  “Who?”

  “Your politician.”

  “Oh. Him. He hired us.”

  “A politician hired us? Why? He can’t win an election without bumping off his opponent?”

  “Nothing like that. It’s more in the sex and sleaze arena. You see... our client recently wed a beautiful young woman. Let me place the emphasis on young. And beautiful. She’s sexy. Exotic. She barely speaks his language. I believe she is what is called a ‘trophy wife’ in his circle.”

  “Sounds like the sex part is covered.”

  “And she’s insatiable.”

  “Lucky man.”

  “Oh. No. You misunderstand. Our man is – to put it delicately – mature. He is not keeping his wife satisfied. And then he exacerbated the situation by hiring several young, fit, male bodyguards. Is this making sense to you, yet?”

  “Let me guess. These bodyguards are doing a bit too much close body work with the wife, nobody signed a pre-nup, and our man likes his money and his career. So, who is the hit? The wife?”

  “Oh. No. Our politician adores her. He almost wishes he hadn’t hired a private investigator and learned the extent of his wife’s nymphomania.”

  “Right. Sounds like a case of true love. So... the hit is on the so-called bodyguards? How many are we talking?”

  “You’re getting ahead of me, Sebastian. You need to look a little deeper. Politicians hide from bad publicity. He actually hired the P.I. so he could ascertain what kind of damage might come out if he does run for office.”

  “Well, of course. Politicians are usually thinking ahead. So. It’s the wife and the bodyguards, then? Does he own a small private plane? It can be quick. Clean. Untraceable. Hell, even Nigel could handle it.”

  “What? Now, hang on a minute! Just because I’m not as big and bad as some of you guys does not make me incompetent. Sir. Let me handle it. Please? I really need the experience.”

  “Nigel. Has it ever occurred to you that certain things might be said in your hearing to get a certain reaction?”

  “All the time, Sir.”

&nb
sp; “Then, perhaps you could consider ignoring Cole’s words this time?”

  “What reaction would the big-bad, barbarian, Sebastian Cole, be looking for?”

  “Oh... I would hazard a guess that he’s searching for something that might get him off the hook on this assignment. And look there. You jumped right onto the bait.”

  “But I could handle this hit. You should let me.”

  “I already said it. This is Sebastian’s hit. Trust me. We’re out of time. Sebastian. You still there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Grab another phone.”

  The line went dead. Sebastian put the phone on the table next to his laptop. He’d crush it later. The VAL always used disposable cell phones and non-traceable numbers. He almost had the next phone opened before it vibrated.

  “Sebastian? Good. Apologies. I don’t usually waste so much time and words. Your hit is actually the private investigator. Harold Bracket. He wins the sleaze prize this go-around. Apparently, he decided to try his hand at blackmail. And if our politician doesn’t cough up the funds, the file on the wife is going public. That is something our client refuses to allow. I charged him triple what the P.I. was asking, because we’re doing a clean-up of all files afterwards. He said it’s worth it.”

  “Money doesn’t matter to me.”

  “I know. Oh. And Sebastian?”

  “Yes?”

  “Stay out of the catacombs.”

  He slapped the lid shut and flung the phone. The crunch as it shattered against a wall was loud. But it wasn’t satisfying.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Harold Bracket appeared to be an excellent private investigator. He was a hair under average height... perhaps five foot seven. He had a bald spot at the crown of his head that he covered over with a ‘comb-over’ effect. He could be extremely fit, but he disguised it beneath nondescript dungarees that needed washing, a dark-toned, button-up shirt, and a faded denim jacket. He’d been hard to locate in the dark streets and alleys he’d decided to inhabit this evening.

  If his killer was afoot, Harold would be difficult to track as well.

  Sebastian tilted his head to one side as he peered down into the tenth alley in as many minutes. He was atop the railing of a fire escape this time. Next to the brick wall of some four story tenement. Just below the roof eave, using it for shadow. Harold and his prey were moving rapidly now. That was interesting. The P.I. was obviously on a case, continually stalking a jittery young man who appeared to be under the influence of some psychedelic drug. It was actually easier to track the druggie and then back-track to Harold’s location.