Dante’s Salvation

by Anna Leigh Keaton

  The car screeched to a halt in front of the steps leading up to the wide front doors of Gaston’s mansion. Digger jumped out and came around his side just as he pushed the door open. When he tried to get out, his knees buckled.

  Digger caught him, keeping him from falling. “Fuck me, mate.”

  He groaned. “Rather not, friend.”

  Digger chuckled as they started up the steps.

  Jesse pulled his SUV to a stop right behind Digger’s Corvette then leaped out and came to his other side, slipping his arm around his waist to help support him. Digger laughed, and Dante even found a slight smile. Digger had more strength in one arm then both he and Jesse had in their entire bodies.

  “Here,” Jesse said, holding his wrist out to Dante to feed from.

  He shook his head. “No offence, Jesse, but female blood is bad enough.”

  As they approached the doors, they opened but, instead of the old butler, there were two well-armed guards—one human, one vampire. “Mr. Pierre is waiting for you in the library,” the vampire said. Dante didn’t recognize him, but he was older, at least part of Dante’s generation. Gaston must have brought him in from out of town.

  Outside the library stood another two guards. Again one was human, one vampire. They wore the long swords typical of vampire warriors, along with wooden daggers on their belts similar to the one Digger had given Jesse. Dante assumed they also wore the specially designed vampire pistols under their suit jackets as did he and Digger.

  “What has happened?” Gaston asked, rising from his desk when the three of them entered the library.

  “He needs to feed,” Digger said. “Would you have a woman, probably two at this point, you’d be willing to share?”

  “Of course.” Gaston picked up the phone and pressed a button. “Valerie, would you and Jessica please join me in the library?”

  Digger and Jesse lowered him to the leather sofa.

  “How did he get this way? Was there a fight?”

  Dante shook his head, but the pain was almost unbearable, and he couldn’t find words.

  “It’s a long, complicated story,” Digger said. “Boilin’ it down to the simplest terms...our boy ’ere is an idgit.”

  Gaston laughed. “A woman, then?”

  “A human he’s afraid of tellin’ the truth to.”

  “Ahh, Dante,” Gaston said on a sigh. “You should be old enough to know better.”

  He was old enough to know better. He knew that if he handled Wendy the wrong way, she’d run screaming from him and he’d never see her again.

  The doors opened, and Dante got a whiff of perfume—overbearingly sweet and cloying. He swallowed hard.

  “Ah, my beauties,” Gaston said. “My friend here must feed. Are you willing?”

  “Yes, Gaston,” they answered in unison.

  Dante finally looked up to see two women. One was dressed in jeans and a peasant blouse. The other wore yoga pants and a fluffy angora sweater. Both were barefoot. Neither could be over twenty-five years old. Gaston’s tastes never ceased to amaze him.

  The one in jeans sat down next to him, flicked her hair over her shoulder, and exposed her neck. He did his best not to shudder as he reached for her hand. “Thank you,” he said, “but I prefer the wrist.” He couldn’t imagine closing his mouth over any woman’s neck but Wendy’s. The thought repulsed him.

  Everything about this repulsed him, but he had no choice—he wasn’t about to suck Jesse’s wrist. He brought the woman’s arm up and sank his fangs into her. As the warm, tangy blood spurt into his mouth, he gagged, spraying droplets of the precious fluid in the poor girl’s face. She yelped and jerked from his grasp, bounding off the couch and into Gaston’s arms.

  Humiliation complete, Dante dropped his head forward as he swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “My apologies,” he said as his mouth watered. As bad as it was, his body craved it.

  “Gaston, do you mind if I get him a drink? Tequila is preferable. If he can wash down the—”

  Dante shut his eyes. He was so tired, he wasn’t sure if he could lift his head again.

  “I have something better,” he heard Gaston say, and then the sounds surrounding him faded out as he slumped against the cool smoothness of the couch.

  “Come on, mate,” Digger said, his voice little more than a whisper. “A few more sips.”

  Dante came around with a straw stuck between his lips. He sucked, and the astringent taste of vodka filled his mouth. Underlying the flavor was the coppery tingle of pure, fresh blood. But it went down without causing his throat to close and his gag reflexes to convulse.

  He opened his eyes to see Jesse sitting next to him, holding him up, and Digger knelt on the floor in front of him, holding the tall glass of dark red liquid.

  “Welcome back,” Jesse said, humor lacing his deep voice. “You gave Dig quite a scare.”

  Digger shook his head and pursed his lips in disgust as he cast Jesse a glare. Then his attention focused back on Dante. “I wanna beat the shite out of ya, is what I wanna do.”

  Dante reached for the glass and sat up straight, pulling away from Jesse. He glanced around the room as he downed the last of the alcohol-tainted blood, wondering who stood witness to his shame, but the room was empty.

  “Aye, they left to give us some privacy after Gaston made up this concoction. He said yer not the first pussy vamp he’s come across.”

  Dante chuckled and wiped his mouth. He sucked in a deep breath, relieved the pain was gone. The surge of strength wouldn’t come for about twenty minutes—until the nutrients entered his blood stream—but already the terrible weakness had subsided. “I am sure Gaston called me a pussy.”

  Jesse chuckled and stood up. “Naw, that’s just Dig showing his love for you.”

  Digger pushed to his feet and stood over Dante, arms crossed, shaking his head. “Yer lucky Gaston keeps a supply of fresh blood on hand. Ya scared that girl, and the other one looked ready ta puke when ya spit blood all o’er her friend. It’s been three hundred years, mate. It’s time ta get over yer hang-ups.”

  “I don’t need a lecture.” He set the glass on the end table and stretched, making sure all the aches had left his muscles. They had. “You think I enjoyed making a fool of myself just now?”

  Digger raised an eyebrow. “Just now? Ya passed out over a half hour ago. That’s the third glass of that crap we’ve shoved down yer gullet. We weren’t sure ya were comin’ back this time. Ya’ve done a lot o’ stupid shite in the years I’ve known ya, but—”

  “Let him be,” Jesse said softly, laying his hand on Digger’s shoulder. “This time it was an accident.”

  Digger shook his head and turned away, walked over to a bookshelf, and leaned against it. “Was it?”

  Dante stood up in a surge of anger. “You know it was. What the hell kind of question is that?”

  His best friend shrugged. “It’s not like it’s the first time ya tried killin’ yerself. Just last week ya sawed off the leg of the table to stake yerself. Why would starvation be any different? And why would ya do it now, when ya know ya need yer strength to fight off the goddamn slayer who’s wipin’ out all our friends?”

  Dante’s fury drained away as fast as it had come. Digger wasn’t so much angry at him as the situation that surrounded them. “It was a week and a half ago,” he said softly. “And things have changed in my life since then. You know I wouldn’t abandon you until this slayer is found and dealt with. I’m not that selfish.”

  As he watched, Digger’s shoulders relaxed and he sighed. “Sorry, mate.” He glanced at Jesse, looking a little sheepish.

  “Me, too,” Dante replied.

  “This is getting to all of us,” Jesse said. “You think I like the idea of the man I love going against this unknown evil?” He went up to Digger and pulled the smaller man into his arms. “I love you, and this is eating me alive. I can only imagine what it’s doing to you guys.”

  Dante turned his back on the intimate embrace and
stared out the window at the low clouds and steady rain. He wished he could share his worries with his lover, as well. He could use her support. Then again, he wouldn’t want to worry her. The possibility of his death was too real. If she knew...

  He swiped his hand through his hair. What were the chances this was the last slayer they’d ever face? It had been a hundred years since the last one, but that meant nothing. Whoever this was could have others waiting in the wings to take his place if he failed.

  A knock sounded on the door before it opened. Dante turned to see Gaston enter, followed by Evan.

  “You are looking better,” Gaston said to him with a grin.

  “Thank you, Gaston, for the blood. I feel a bit foolish for going so long between feedings.”

  “Say no more. Please, have a seat.”

  Evan took up his post beside Gaston’s desk, Jesse and Digger sat down next to each other on the sofa, and Dante moved to one of the wingback chairs. Gaston leaned back against his desk and shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit pants.

  “Evan,” Gaston said. “Why don’t you tell them what you know?”

  Evan crossed one ankle over the other knee and slouched slightly in his seat. “Last night when I returned to the club after I left your house, I overheard a group of young vampires talking about an overthrow. There were no specifics, but they said with the elimination of the elders, soon they’d be able to move up in ranks and take over.” He shook his head and sighed. “These kids were nobodies, and I’m pretty sure they were just mouthing off about things they’d overheard, but it brings to light that our summation was correct as to why this is happening.”

  Digger rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “What happened with Thomas and Carlson? How were they killed?”

  “I tried calling them last night after you called me about Xavier, and I couldn’t get a hold of them. I sent Evan to find them when he checked in after what he’d overheard at the club. Carlson was killed in his bed. He never saw it coming. Thomas had fought, and fought hard. He was hacked up from battle, but the killing blow had decapitated him.”

  “Christ Almighty.”

  Dante’s stomach turned, and it had nothing to do with the blood he’d consumed.

  “We’re all that’s left,” Gaston said. “The four of us are the oldest vampires left in all of Seattle. Evan is a skilled fighter, as both of you are. I’ve surrounded and filled my house with the best fighters I know, both human and vampire, but these vampires have never before faced a determined slayer. I’d like for the both of you to remain here.”

  Both Digger and Dante shook their heads.

  “If we’re hidin’ away here, how the fuck do we draw him out? We don’t know who the hell he is. We have to see ’im to defeat ’im.”

  “If we’re all here, he’s only got one place to come after us,” Gaston tried to reason.

  “Whoever this is isn’t stupid or he’d already have been identified,” Dante said. “He’s a fighter, obviously, if what you say about Thomas is true, so it’s going to come down to hand-to-hand combat to kill him.” He glanced at Evan. “Gaston needs to be protected at all costs, and bringing the slayer here before Digger and I have a chance at him is not the right thing to do.”

  “I agree,” Digger said. “Ya need to stay safe, which means ya need to stay locked away ’ere with all yer guards while Dante and I find this fucker.”

  Gaston shook his head. “We don’t know who he is. And there’s a possibility it is more than one. If this has to do with an overthrow of leadership within the sect, then it’s very likely there is an assassination team at work. How else do you explain the sheer number taken out in so little time?”

  It wasn’t a thought that he hadn’t had, but Dante shook his head. “It does not matter, Gaston. If you fall, then they’ve won. There is no one who can take your place. At least if they come after Digger and me, we’ll be together and have more of a chance of one of us surviving to get back to you. Then you’ll know who they are so the rest of your guard can go after them en masse.”

  “Jesse’ll never be put in danger, if it can be helped,” Digger said. “He’ll be the one to bring word should somethin’ happen to us.”

  Jesse reached over and laid his hand on Digger’s thigh. “I’ll do anything I can to help,” he said. “I know I don’t have vampire strength, but I’m a hell of a scrapper.”

  Digger’s smile was a little sad as he laid his hand over his lover’s. Dante hated seeing his teasing friend so distraught. This was worse than a hundred years ago. This was getting too personal.

  “I would like to argue with you,” Gaston said, “but what you say has merit. I’ll let the guards know that Jesse is free to come and go from the estate without question.”

  Dante stood. Jesse and Digger followed suit. “Thanks again,” Dante said, shaking Gaston’s hand. “Please tell your...um...tell her I’m sorry.”

  Gaston chuckled. “She’s fine.” He turned, lifted a business card from his desktop, and handed it to Dante. “The next time you need some blood, contact this person. She’s a friend of mine. Tell her I sent you.”

  Dante read the card. It was for a Sue Mathis at the Seattle General Blood Bank. “Again, thank you,” he said, slipping the card into his pocket.

  He stepped aside while Digger and Jesse said their farewells to Gaston. “Wendy got home safely?” he asked Evan.

  The man nodded. “Yes. Walked her to her door. She was fine when I left her.”

  “Thank you.” He headed for the door.

  “I want hourly check-ins,” Gaston said. “If I don’t hear from you, I’m sending Evan and a team to your house.”

  “I’m sure it willna be long once nightfall comes,” Digger said. “We’ll be in touch.”

  The three of them headed to the driveway. Jesse gave Digger a hug and kiss before he got into his SUV and pulled off. Digger stared after the vehicle for a long moment. “He’s goin’ to work. He says he wants to keep his ears open to anythin’ there. He’s even workin’ inside tonight, which he hates doin’. He’ll call if he hears anythin’.” Digger started the car. “I wish he’d stay away from us.”

  “He’s not stupid. He knows what he can and cannot do.”

  Digger turned to him. “Sorry ’bout earlier. I’m—”

  “Enough said.” Dante shrugged. “It’s been a bitch of a week.”

  “Aye. That it has.”

  As they pulled out onto the street, Dante slouched into the seat and prepared for a hair-raising trip home. Digger surprised him by driving within the speed limit. A sure sign of Digger’s distress.

  —

  Wendy lay on the couch, staring at the textured ceiling, making little pictures out of the bumps and dips. She sighed and smiled, imbued with a sense of peace and calm she couldn’t remember ever feeling. Relaxed, yet energized. Languid, yet she never thought she’d been quite so awake. She could run a marathon, but lying here seemed like a good thing to do, too.

  She was in love. She was loved. Her body ached from the hard loving of just a few hours ago, but it was a wonderful twinge. One she wanted to experience again and again and again.

  The door buzzer rang, and she sighed. She glanced at the door and the speaker, but didn’t want to move. It buzzed again, and she rolled to her feet, going a little lightheaded at the sudden move. She giggled and stumbled toward the door. Her blood zinged as if she’d had too much alcohol. Must have been the aftereffects of drinking too much the night before.

  “Yo?” she said, punching the speaker button.

  “Uh...Wendy?” came Candice’s voice. “That you?”

  “Hey, Candi. Come on up.” She buzzed her friend in, cracked the door open, then flopped back onto the couch and propped her hands behind her head.

  Candice pushed the door open and peered around it. “Hey. You’re speaking to me?”

  Wendy laughed. “Why? Did you do something you shouldn’t have? Do I smell coffee?”

  Candice came the rest of th
e way in, a cardboard tray with two grand lattes and a paper sack in her hand. “Well, you were pretty pissed when you left the club last night. I figured I was on your Shit list again.” She set the drinks on the coffee table and dropped her purse to the floor. “I guess everything went well with Dante?”

  Wendy stared at Candice in confusion. She had no recollection of her friend being at The Starlight. In fact... She licked her lips and sat up, pulling her legs out of the way so Candice could sit down.

  “What?” Candice asked as she sat down and pulled a paper cup from the holder. “Why are you looking at me like that? You are pissed, aren’t you?”

  She slowly shook her head. “How much did I have to drink? And...and why was Dante...he was at the club? But he was supposed to be out of town. When did he show up?”

  Candice handed her the coffee. “Whoa, girl. You don’t remember what happened? Me dancing with him? You getting pissed? Him hauling you outta there as if you were his property?”

  Wendy sipped the piping hot coffee, desperately trying to grasp some memory. “Again. How much did I drink?”

  Candice shook her head as she pulled a croissant from the paper sack. “I don’t think you drank anything. You showed up, and I was dancing with him, and it went from there. I wanted to go with you, but you gave me that look.”

  “What look?”

  “That one that says you want to murder me.”

  “You were dancing with Dante when I got to the club?”

  “If Dante is a six-foot, dark-haired devil with an accent that made me cream my panties, that’s the one.”

  Wendy dropped her head forward and rubbed her temple with her fingertips.

  “What’s going on? You don’t remember anything? Nothing at all? Did that son of a bitch slip you something?”

  Dante wouldn’t drug her, of that she was sure. She shook her head. “I remember arriving at the club, and Jesse, the big black guy who works the front door, he let me in when I said I was meeting friends that were already inside.”