Blood Royal (Blood Destiny #5)

by Connie Suttle

  News trucks and reporters with camera crews were crawling all over the street below us and sirens were wailing up and down Michigan Avenue when Gavin and I landed on the roof. The hotel had yellow tape pulled across the front and ambulances waited outside. Gavin ignored the entire scene as we sat down on the roof of our hotel.

  "Lissa, do not ever leave me like that again," he grumbled before his mouth was on mine and his arms were crushing me against him just as tightly as he dared. After a while, he was satisfied just to hold me in his lap as we watched ambulances and police cars come and go below us. It wasn't long before my vision blurred and I fell asleep, though the night was still young.

  * * *

  "Is she all right?" Winkler asked. He'd waited inside Gavin and Lissa's room, as had Tony, René and Roff, and watched in concern as Gavin carried Lissa in. Bill had already asked someone to come and clear away the mess on the carpet. The housekeeping staff had come and vacuumed up Richter's ash, thinking it was dirt. Bill was Director of the Joint NSA/Homeland Security office; they weren't about to argue with him about piles of dirt on the carpet. Bill had then gone downstairs to see to things there.

  "She's asleep," Gavin whispered.

  "She's been up all day," Winkler said. "Did she tell you she caught Rahim?" Gavin placed Lissa on the bed and covered her with a blanket after removing her shoes.

  "No, she neglected to mention it," Gavin said. "Let us go next door where we can discuss this without disturbing her."

  Gavin and the others walked through the connecting door. Roff stayed behind and crawled into bed with Lissa the moment the others were gone, pulling her against him.

  * * *

  "Rahim Alif, the mastermind behind the recent Paris hotel bombing, as well as several other terrorist attacks, was apprehended yesterday, hours before the Royal Hotel in downtown Chicago was attacked by snipers. The attack came during a speech given by the Vice President in a hotel ballroom." The reporter stood outside the hotel, using it as a backdrop for the newscast, and an inset photo of Rahim was displayed on the television screen.

  I was sitting up in bed and sipping on a unit of blood that Gavin handed to me. I'd slept the rest of the night and then through the following day before waking again at sunset. Gavin sat beside me and nuzzled my neck and shoulder while I drank my dinner. Roff was in the shower and I was going in as soon as he got out. Gavin's cell phone rang. He answered.

  "Honored One?" Gavin said, after reading the caller ID.

  "Is Lissa there?" Wlodek asked.

  "Yes, Honored One," Gavin answered.

  "Excellent work, taking Richter down," Wlodek praised Gavin.

  "Thank you, Honored One," Gavin replied.

  "Let me speak with Lissa," Wlodek said. Gavin handed the phone to me.

  "Father?" I said. I didn't know what he wanted.

  "I understand you captured Rahim Alif."

  "I did," I said. "He was dressed as a tourist and using a Greek name. He smelled just like he always does, though. Evil."

  "Is that how you recognized him—because he smelled evil?"

  "Not completely. I had his scent from a house in Georgia and the hotel room in Paris. It wasn't hard to detect him. I knew who he was the minute he walked through the door."

  "And you were instrumental in capturing Richter?"

  "Yeah. He was a squirrel." I heard Charles snicker in the background.

  "Lissa, this is no time for humor."

  "But he was. A squirrel, I mean. Richter was a vampire shapeshifter. He turned into a squirrel. He was hiding inside the hotel as a rodent for several days and probably feeding off the hotel guests while he was here. That's how we found him; he was sleeping behind some towels in a hotel bathroom."

  "That may explain how he managed to hide from us for so long," Wlodek muttered after a few seconds.

  "Nobody would be looking for a squirrel if they were after a full-grown vampire," I agreed. "He's dead, now. Gavin's pretty quick with those claws of his."

  "I have seen that for myself." Wlodek sounded as if he were smiling. He must have wanted Richter bad. "Let me speak with Gavin again." I handed the phone back to Gavin.

  "The compensation will be deposited in your account," Wlodek said. My eyebrows rose over that. Gavin was getting a bonus? Damn. I worked for free. I sighed and slid off the bed. Gavin reached out for me but I was already too far away. Roff came out of the bathroom so I went inside to clean up.

  "Fledgling vampires are not allowed to earn money," Gavin said later as I was trying to convince my hair to cooperate after a shower. "They are dependent upon their sire for their needs while they learn."

  "Uh-huh," I sighed and gave up on my hair. "Is Merrill still carrying the load, even though I'm married off to you?" I was now stuffing my toiletries into the little bag I had.

  "He is insisting," Gavin said, stepping back—my elbows were flying a bit as I packed up. "If you want anything, cara, you only have to ask."

  "I see," I said, shoving my comb into the bag and zipping it up.

  "Lissa, I do not make the rules."

  "Really? I thought you were a member of the Aristocracy—you know—those vampires who got together to make the rules." I stalked past him and through the bathroom door.

  "Who told you about the Aristocracy?" Gavin was right behind me, demanding an answer.

  "I'm not going to tell you. How long were you going to keep that to yourself?" I snapped, flinging my toiletries bag into a suitcase lying open on our bed.

  "You are a member as well, as my vampire spouse," Gavin pointed out. He wasn't helping his case any—he was merely digging a deeper hole.

  "Yeah? How about that?" I zipped the suitcase. "I pity the next female that gets turned, you know." I lifted the suitcase off the bed as if it weighed nothing. "She'll be paraded in front of all those vampires and sold off to the highest bidder, if she isn't already under some vampire's thumb. You people need to come out of the dark ages." I headed toward the door and then turned back as the thought hit me. "You know what? Scratch that," I pointed an accusing finger at Gavin. "You need to come out of the cave." I flung the door open and stalked into the hallway.

  * * *

  "What precipitated this argument, cousin?" René walked into Gavin's hotel room after Lissa stormed angrily out the door. He'd heard the entire argument from his and Tony's adjoining suite.

  "Wlodek," Gavin sighed. "She didn't know that young vampires are not allowed to earn money. Wlodek informed me that the reward money for Richter would be deposited in my account. Lissa overheard and now she is upset."

  "She captured him, cousin. You just relieved him of his head." René slapped Gavin on the back. Gavin growled low. "How much was it, anyway?"

  "Fifteen million pounds," Gavin grumbled.

  "I think you owe Lissa," René laughed and went to find Tony. Roff was staring at Gavin when René left. He didn't understand. The Raona had no money? She was the Queen. He shook his head and trotted out the door after Lissa.

  "I didn't make that rule," Gavin announced to an empty room.

  * * *

  As plane rides went, that one sucked. The weather was bad—there was a storm over Missouri and I thought I was going to have to mist everybody out of the plane, including the pilot and copilot. Gavin had me out of my seat and crushed in his arms after we dropped several hundred feet at one point. Roff was terrified and holding onto whatever part of me Gavin didn't have locked up. I was never so glad to see the Oklahoma City airport in my life when we finally landed on solid ground.

  Winkler even looked gray when we stepped off the plane. The bags were taken off and we rode a shuttle to our van. I heaved a huge sigh and buried my head against Gavin's shoulder as we drove toward Nichols Hills.

  "Cara, we'll take a drive as soon as we get to the house," Gavin murmured against my ear. We did take a drive—a long one.

  "This was my house," I said as we drove past the property. It had a for sale sign in the front yard. I wondered who'd get the money
now. Of course, none of my belongings would be inside it anymore; Sara had probably sold all of it in a garage sale and I told Gavin that.

  "Do you want the house, Cara?" Gavin asked me gently.

  "It doesn't have anything that I want now, Gavin. What would I do with it, anyway?" All I had left were memories and those I carried with me—both good and bad.

  "Sometimes I am jealous of your first husband," Gavin said.

  "Why?" Gavin was driving and he turned to look at me briefly, his dark eyes raking my face when I asked the question.

  "Because you said yes when he asked," Gavin turned away from me again, easing the van down the cul-de-sac I used to live on. "Lissa, I know I got you by trickery and default. I think I would have tried to kill anyone else that might have taken you away." His mouth was set in a grim line as he steered the van away from my old street.

  "You always get what you want?" I asked, studying his face. A bit of sadness touched his features. I could tell he regretted many of the things that lay between us.

  "You were the first thing in a very long time that I truly wanted," Gavin admitted quietly.

  "I thought you were going to kill me for a long time," I mumbled and turned to look out my window.

  "I would have paid for that in ways you cannot imagine," Gavin informed me, pulling onto Reno Avenue. "Bill gave me the results of Sara Workman's autopsy before we left Chicago." He was changing the subject.

  "What did they find?" I almost didn't want to know.

  "Heart failure, just as you said, cara."

  "I wonder if he still wants to capture me," I said, meaning Xenides.

  "I'm sure he wants you more than ever, love. He sees the potential in you. He could destroy countries with you, cara mia. That's what he thinks to do when he has you in his grip. He would have a good start, even without your help, if he and Alif had managed to kill the Vice President in Chicago." Gavin's words worried me, and I wondered who those two planned to target next.

  "What a comforting thought," I slapped a hand over my face. Gavin drove us to a nearby motel that didn't look too bad, secured a room, called René to let him know we wouldn't be back for a while and proceeded to love me senseless.

  * * *

  Sunday, September fifth, Gavin and I rose at sunset, showered and checked out of our motel room. The young woman behind the desk was eyeing my ring as Gavin and I turned in our keys before we left.

  "That looks expensive," she said.

  "I'm sure it was," I smiled at her. Gavin gave me a dark look and shooed me out the door.

  "I suppose you're wondering why I never bought you a ring," I grumped when we climbed into the van. Gavin turned sharply to look at me as he put the van in gear and backed out. "I'm not about to ask Merrill to pay for it," I said. "When I can get to my own money, you'll have one."

  "Are we back to the money thing?" he asked quietly as we headed toward I-35.

  "No, we're at the ring thing," I said. "There's nothing I can do about the money thing." When we arrived at the house in Nichols Hills, we found a werewolf from the Oklahoma City pack there. Winkler had asked him to move in for the present. The Packmaster for the Oklahoma City pack was there, too, and I was shocked to find that I knew him.

  "Jerry?" I walked up to him while he shared a drink with Winkler and the other werewolf, whose name was Michael.

  "Do I know you?" Jerry asked, frowning at me. He was getting the vampire scent, just as Michael was. They were supposed to know why they were here, weren't they? At least their hackles weren't up and they weren't growling.

  "Yeah, or you used to," I said. Jerry was the assistant Chief of Police for the city. Gavin came up behind me, just in case I needed protection, I think.

  "Jerry, this is Lissa," Winkler introduced us. The light went on for Jerry right then.

  "Holy shit," he said, and held out his hand. "That's what happened to you."

  "Yeah, that's what happened to me, all right," I said and shook his hand.

  "We miss you down at the courthouse," Jerry said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at me. Jerry was in his eighties—as a werewolf. Everybody at the courthouse thought he was thirty-seven.

  "I miss lunch," I countered. Jerry laughed.

  "Jerry, this is Gavin, my husband," I introduced Gavin to Jerry. Jerry nodded and took Gavin's hand when it was offered.

  "I'm sorry about Don," Jerry told me.

  "Yeah, me too," I said. "If he were still alive, I wouldn't be here right now."

  "Does what you are now have anything to do with David and Sara Workman's disappearance?" Jerry asked.

  "Sort of," I said.

  "Lissa's special, and now everyone is trying to get their hands on her," Winkler said. "Threats have been made and we're trying to get to the bottom of all of it. We're working with the Director of the Joint NSA and Homeland Security Department on it."

  "Are you kidding me?" Jerry couldn't believe that.

  "There's a special division of the FBI that has vampires and werewolves," Winkler grinned. "Obviously not many know about that."

  Michael had been listening to our conversation and couldn't hold back any longer. "Is the Director looking for recruits? Man, I'd love to work for the FBI and not have to hide what I am from my coworkers."

  "Bill will come by tomorrow afternoon," Winkler said. "He's tying up loose ends in Chicago right now."

  "In on that terrorist thing?" Jerry asked.

  "We were all in on that terrorist thing," Winkler chuckled. "We just got back yesterday. Bill's department is taking all the credit for capturing Rahim Alif—we just can't announce on the nightly news that four vampires and a werewolf handled the whole thing, now can we?"

  "That's all the news is about right now—the capture of a terrorist on U.S. soil," Michael snorted. "They're saying the Vice President may have been the target."

  * * *

  Xenides considered tossing the television across the room, but the hotel staff would receive complaints if he made too much noise so late at night. Rahim had allowed himself to be captured by U.S. authorities. Rahim had slipped up one time too many and Xenides hadn't been close enough to pick up the pieces. The fool. Xenides' human snipers were dead—two had been killed on-site and the third died on the way to the hospital. Nobody would get information from them. Director Bill Jennings had accomplished what Anthony Hancock had failed to do, however, capturing Rahim. Jennings was becoming a bigger problem than Hancock. Xenides growled—Jennings had the little princess, still, and that angered the ancient vampire greatly.

  The news was now reporting that Seraphim had been captured, but she knew next to nothing—Richter made sure of that. Xenides hadn't been able to reach Richter, so he was likely dead or captured. Xenides had placed compulsion, however, for Rahim and Richter not to reveal anything about him or his plans. He was safe. He'd just have to go looking for other human scum to do his bidding; Xenides had already gathered as many rogue vampires as he could. An idea occurred to him, however, and he smiled before lifting his cell and dialing a number.

  * * *

  "He's not responding to the medication as well as we'd hoped."

  The physician's words dealt a blow to Franklin, who'd spent yet another night at the hospital. He was exhausted and Merrill had gone off to check on the reported sighting of a vampire the Council was tracking. Greg hadn't wakened and Franklin was worried that he'd slipped into a coma. He didn't ask the question however; he was too afraid to learn the answer.

  "Is there anything else to try?" Franklin rubbed his eyes.

  "I'm ordering new antibiotics; we'll see how that goes," the doctor replied.

  Franklin watched as the physician walked down the hospital corridor, away from Greg's room. He considered calling Merrill and then thought better of it. His fingers itched to call Lissa too, only Merrill had forbidden it. Franklin walked inside Greg's room instead, prepared to sit at his bedside again. Sliding into a chair, Franklin leaned his head against the edge of the hospital bed, nea
r Greg's hand and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  Monday, September sixth came along, as did Director Bill Jennings. Michael Robinson, our new werewolf guard, was doing his best to work up the courage to ask Bill for a job. I intervened and sent Bill mindspeech. Bill's eyebrows lifted slightly and he nodded. I realized background checks and things would have to be done, but Bill would consider it now. Some people were just too shy to ask for something they wanted for themselves. I had no doubts that Michael would be a good hire—I got good vibes off him all around.

  "I spoke with the President," Bill said aloud. Everybody turned to listen. I was sitting at the kitchen island having a glass of water; Roff was sitting next to me having a sandwich after fixing one for Winkler and Chris. Tony, René and Gavin were off doing training again, from which I had been excluded. Roff's sandwich actually smelled good; it was roast beef, thin-sliced with tomato, cheese and lettuce. I got up and made one for myself, asking Bill if he wanted something while I worked. He smiled and nodded, so I put two sandwiches together and then settled on my barstool to eat while we listened to Bill.

  "The president wants to give you another commendation," Bill took a bite of his sandwich.

  "Ummm," I was busy chewing a mouthful of roast-beef sandwich and it tasted like heaven. I closed my eyes and sighed in pleasure. I could taste it! That was amazing. Winkler was watching me, a look of fascination crossing his features. When I swallowed, I said, "Bill, I haven't looked at the last one. Or the Medal of Freedom." I felt embarrassed over that, but so many things had happened at that time, including Tony's little betrayal, that I'd handed it back to Merrill and refused to read the letter or open the medal case.

  "How are you eating that?" Winkler interrupted. He was shaking his head in confusion. I was enjoying my food.

  "Honey," I turned to study his handsome face, "I feel a lot more like I do now than I did a while ago." That wasn't mine—I was quoting an old friend, Bill Scholes, who'd lived close to Don and me. He'd moved away when he retired and we didn't get to see him after that. I missed his philosophical musings. I smiled at Winkler and took another bite of my sandwich.