Redemption (The Penton Vampire Legacy)

by Susannah Sandlin

  Sounded like Owen. Arrogant and sadistic. “Obviously, he isn’t dead.”

  “The council rescinded the death sentence in November—shortly before Owen surfaced in Atlanta. Matthias is head of the Justice Council. Come to your own conclusions, my friend.”

  Damn. Now it made sense. Owen wouldn’t come after him to defend something as tenuous as the vampire way of life. But he would do it to save his own hide.

  “What about you?” Aidan asked, studying Renz’s face. The man had taken Aidan in when he’d first fled Ireland centuries ago. Renz had given him a home, shown him how to survive in what was just a wild colonial outpost of England. That was long before Renz had risen to Tribunal status and Aidan drifted south and began building his own scathe.

  “I think the type of thing you’re doing here is the only hope we have of surviving this crisis without going public and throwing ourselves on the mercy of humans.” Renz took a sip of whiskey and stared at the reflections of light on the amber liquid. “Nobody wants that.”

  Of all the crazy ideas. “Is going public really being considered? It would be a bloody disaster.”

  Renz nodded. “I agree, which is why I’m here. I want Penton to succeed. I can’t back you openly by sending people to help. I’ll be honest—there are more on the Tribunal against you than for you. Not because of Penton per se, but because you have bonded your entire scathe to yourself and no one is sure how big that scathe is. Anyone outside the Tribunal who has too much power makes them twitch. But given my political straitjacket, tell me what I can do to help.”

  Aidan had an easy answer for that one. “Find out who’s supplying Owen with vaccinated human blood, for one thing.”

  Renz choked on his drink. “Mierda. How do you know?”

  Aidan shared Mirren’s adventure with the buckshot. “I don’t know how much of that stuff Owen has, but I doubt he used all of it. It’s a damned effective weapon.”

  Renz looked thoughtful. “I heard a rumor that Kincaid had joined you. I don’t have to tell you his presence will enrage those who see you as a threat. His years as the Tribunal’s executioner left him with quite the reputation. Has the Slayer recovered from his injuries?”

  “Don’t let him hear you use that name unless you want to see how recovered he is.” Aidan finished off his whiskey. “I won’t throw Will to his father, and Mirren’s not going anywhere. We’ll fight whomever we have to—but don’t share that with any of your Tribunal cronies.”

  Renz nodded. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. You have, what, about twenty-five scathe members?”

  Aidan hesitated. He wasn’t inclined to trust any outsider these days, even Renz. He didn’t doubt his support, but the man was also a political shark who could flip sides if his survival depended on it. The Penton scathe numbered more than fifty now, but he decided to keep that figure to himself. “Yes, about that. All the humans are fams or mates, except a few bonded extras—mostly relatives.”

  “What about kids?”

  He shook his head. “None. Anyone who wants kids or gets pregnant moves out. Maybe one day, but it’s doubtful. This is just not the kind of lifestyle kids need to be in—we aren’t exactly set up for education and day care.” Not to mention that children would be the first targets for someone like Owen. Aidan knew that from experience, but he pushed thoughts of his son, Cavan, from his mind. All it did was make him angrier.

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, and Aidan pondered the pros and cons of telling Renz about Krys. He might not trust the man with the whole future of the Penton scathe, but he did value his opinion.

  “I have one other thing to tell you,” he said. “We have a new doctor—our original doc was the first one Owen killed. This new one, a woman, was able to get the vaccine-laced pellets out of Mirren just before dawn and helped us do a drain-and-fill on him. Otherwise he’d have been out of commission for weeks.”

  Renz poured more whiskey. “I can’t believe you found another one so fast. Is she human or vampire?”

  Aidan got up and stood with his back to Renz, facing the fire. “Unvaccinated human. We didn’t just stumble across her. We researched till we found her, and when my business manager was attacked by Owen and needed treatment, I kept her here against her will.” The words sounded as callous as the act itself, and he found it hard to reconcile them with his feelings for the woman he’d just held in his arms.

  He remained still, watching the fire and waiting for Renz’s reaction. If the man told him to get rid of Krys to keep from attracting Tribunal attention, he’d consider taking her back to Atlanta and letting her go—if he could squelch that selfish part of himself that wanted her with him. What he’d never do was kill her, even if Renz ordered it.

  The older man surprised him.

  “Given what’s happening, it was a smart move. Penton needs to survive this, and if it means taking one person’s freedom to save the whole, then it’s worth it. How’s she handling it? How much does she know?”

  “Everything. Even handled the drain-and-fill on Mirren without a meltdown. She’s bloody amazing.”

  When Renz didn’t respond, Aidan looked back at him. His friend was eyeing him with amusement.

  “What?”

  Renz opened his mouth and then closed it. “Nothing.” He finished his drink. “You’re handling this right. Don’t let Owen pull you into an all-out war that will draw human attention to Penton or give the hotheads on the Tribunal a reason to target you. Right now it’s just Matthias trying to stir things up and get his hands on William. Play it low-key, and take Owen out when you can. Chances are, his people will scatter once he’s gone—I doubt he has many. The important thing is to have this town of yours survive.”

  Aidan cracked his neck. He’d been almost relaxed around Krys and now that seemed like a week ago instead of an hour. “You think what we’re doing here is that important?”

  He’d like to have said that he had come up with the idea of Penton as a template for vampire society in a post-pandemic world. Really, though, he’d just wanted a place where he and others like him could hold on to the shreds of their humanity and live in peace. No prey. No politics.

  Renz got up and set his glass on the coffee table. “Yes, I do think it’s important. Many of our people in Europe and North America are starving. Hunger is causing them to be indiscreet, and a black market for unvaccinated humans is springing up. It’s only a matter of time till someone gets caught and we’re forced to either go public or exile everyone to some Third World jungle to live on animals. It’s a damned nightmare.”

  He picked up their coats. “We have a few hours till sunrise. Show me your town, and introduce me to the Slayer.”

  If anyone ever made a vampire sitcom, the meeting between Renz and Mirren would be an episode all by itself. Aidan chuckled as he walked home through the sub-suite tunnel at about three a.m. He’d dropped Renz and his fam off at one of the clinic sub-suites, down the hall from Krys.

  He’d warned Mirren that they were coming, but it hadn’t helped. The big guy sat through the twenty-minute ordeal wearing his stone-gargoyle face, arms crossed over his chest, answering Renz’s questions with a full repertoire of grunts and vague, monosyllabic replies. Thank God Renz had a good sense of humor.

  “You don’t like to talk about your past, do you, Mr. Kincaid?” he’d finally asked.

  Mirren fixed him with a look that would freeze icebergs. “You think?”

  It had been his longest sentence of the night.

  Aidan emerged from the tunnel into his greenhouse and stopped to pick one of the hibiscus blooms. They’d forever remind him of Krys.

  She’d brought two emotions to life in him: wonderment and loneliness. The first was a new one for him; the second hadn’t tormented him in so long that it had taken him a while to recognize the empty, longing feeling.

  Krys was at the crux of everything. When he was with her, he couldn’t imagine letting her go, even if he had to keep her locked up for the rest of h
er life. Screw the guilt, as long as he got to be with her, talk to her—hell, even listen to her advice, for God’s sake.

  Once he was away from her, as now, his brain would start working instead of his dick. Listening to her talk about her father earlier this evening, and piecing that together with some of the things he knew from her school records, he wondered why he’d been so arrogant as to think he could uproot her life, lock her up, and make her want to stay in Penton. She’d worked hard to stand on her own and escape being under a man’s control.

  The great Aidan Murphy, savior of abused and addicted humans. Arrogant ass with a God complex, Owen had called him. It awed him that Krys not only had survived what he’d done to her, but also seemed to have become stronger through it. He could just as easily have broken her spirit so badly she’d never have recovered.

  He should take her home, but he couldn’t. And not just because of Owen, but because, at heart, he was a selfish prick. He hadn’t felt happy in so long that those minutes with her, the feel of her desire, was something he didn’t have the courage to give up.

  He left the greenhouse and approached the front of his house, growing still as he picked up subtle movement in the dense row of ligustrum in front of his porch. A figure moved slightly away from the shadows, enough for him to get a clear look.

  Lucy.

  He sniffed the heavy night air, making sure that she hadn’t led Owen here, intentionally or not. He also wanted a few seconds to dampen the anger that threatened to obliterate all reason when he thought of how she’d sacrificed Daniel.

  Finally he moved fast, grabbing her arm on his way to the door and shoving her inside ahead of him.

  “Ouch. Shit, Aidan. You don’t have to pull my arm out of joint.” Lucy jerked away from him once they’d cleared the threshold and put some distance between them. He slammed the door hard enough to jar the front windows.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, killing one of our fams? And what did you tell my brother once you finished screwing him? How much of Penton have you given up?” Aidan advanced on her, fists clenched.

  Her nostrils flared, and he smelled the fear on her as she backed up against the wall, holding her hands in front of her. “I didn’t betray you. You know me better than that. I’m trying to find out as much as I can about Owen and his scathe.”

  Aidan veered away from her and threw his car keys on the sofa table. “You stink. You smell of Owen.”

  He pointed her to one of the armchairs in front of the window. He sat in the other, crossed his legs, and watched her.

  Lucy looked tired. She wore her usual provocative garb—leather skirt and tight sweater and boots—but her eyes lacked the old Lucy Sinclair spark. She looked a helluva lot healthier than her fam, though.

  “You might be interested to know we’re having Daniel’s body embalmed and sent back to his family in South Carolina, along with a big load of bullshit about how he died.”

  Lucy flinched and looked at the floor. “I needed to gain Owen’s trust.”

  Damn her to hell and back. “Was it worth it? Owen isn’t stupid, Lucy. He’s good at playing the fool, and he knows how to charm the ladies.”

  “Runs in the family then, doesn’t it?” she snapped, glaring at him. “Want to know how you compare in the sack? I’m probably the only woman who’s screwed both of you—or did you share back in the good old days?”

  It took all his strength to keep him from breaking something, like her pretty little neck. “Don’t try to make this about us, or about sex. Owen killed Doc, a man that I know damn well you loved. How can you stand for him to touch you?”

  Lucy deflated, her shoulders slumping. “Because I want him dead, Aidan, and the quickest way for me to get him there without jeopardizing Penton is to gain his trust. You might be willing to sit around and play cat-and-mouse games with him, but I want that son of a bitch gone. First I’m going to find out how much power he’s got behind him, and then I want him to know that what he did to Doc mattered.”

  Aidan wanted to point out that she’d treated Daniel’s death as lightly as Owen had treated Doc’s, but she wouldn’t have heard it. She was too lost.

  Her voice softened to little more than a whisper. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that. I’ve told you before. You keep people in neat little compartments—lieutenants, familiars, scathe, Mirren. He gets his own category. You don’t allow messy things like love to make you vulnerable.”

  Aidan closed his eyes. She had no idea. “There are too many people, vampires and humans alike, whose lives depend on how this plays out,” he said, the anger draining from his voice. “I won’t run after Owen without knowing how big his scathe is, where they’re hiding, how many humans are with them, how many on the Tribunal are backing him—because there are some. Can you answer any of those questions?”

  Lucy looked at the floor. “Not yet. He wants to screw me, but he doesn’t want to have pillow talk. All I know is what little I’ve overheard. He does have someone he’s in contact with by cell phone—he changes phones constantly so no one can track him, and he makes sure no one can hear those conversations. He moves every day, and has someone going to Atlanta every couple of days to pick up new phones and supplies.”

  Aidan pondered the information. “What kind of supplies?”

  She shook her head. “Food for their humans, since they can’t store anything. I don’t know what else.”

  “You still don’t know how many vampires he has with him?”

  “They’re scattered in caves back in the hills and take their daysleep in the basements of some of the abandoned houses. They move constantly. He’d be suspicious if I asked him outright—maybe after I’ve had a while longer to work on him.”

  Aidan studied her, weighing the trust he had left. Not much. But he’d at least try to keep her safe. “Stay away from the mill village for a couple of days.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Just do it. And if you can leave Owen there without you, all the better.” He was sure he’d feel a few regrets about hearing that his brother had died in a mill village fire. They could join all the other regrets that he bundled around with him.

  She gave him an amused look. “Just listen to you. I thought Owen was the bigger hard-ass among the Murphy brothers. Exactly what happened between the two of you back in the olden days? He won’t tell me.” Lucy relaxed in the chair and leaned back against the cushion, obviously having decided that the physical threat from Aidan had passed.

  His eyes rested on the half-burned chunks of wood in the cold fireplace and let his mind go to a place he seldom visited anymore.

  “Owen was responsible for the death of my wife,” he said, as flatly as he might have told her the weather forecast. “My son, Cavan, was six years old at the time, but I was able to save him from Owen. He was raised by a neighboring farmer as an indentured field hand, but he ended up happy. Will tracked down his descendants in Ireland. He lived long.” It was the only consolation in the whole sorry tale—that, and hoping Cavan hadn’t remembered what had happened to his parents.

  Lucy’s eyes widened. She’d been a member of Aidan’s scathe for almost twenty-five years, since he’d found her in Atlanta. But he’d buried the memories of Abby and Cavan deeply. Only Mirren and Hannah knew the story, and he hadn’t told Hannah. She’d just known.

  “I never knew you were married.” She sounded shocked. “So you did know how I felt when Doc died. She was your wife when you were made vampire? Did Owen turn you?”

  “No, he didn’t turn me.” Aidan’s mind had conjured a beautiful, laughing girl with hair the color of honey and a small, dark-haired boy with his father’s quiet, serious way of looking at the world. “Owen and I were turned by the same vampire.” His laugh was bitter. “He thought being turned was the best thing that ever happened to him. He’s a much better vampire than I am, as I’m sure he’s told you.”

  Aidan’s fingers picked at the seam on the arm of hi
s chair. He wouldn’t talk to her about this anymore, wouldn’t have told her this much if Krys hadn’t stirred up so many memories. The woman was distracting him, and he couldn’t afford it.

  Lucy leaned forward. “Owen’s jealous, you know. That people follow you, trust you. He leads by fear and he knows you don’t have to. That’s why he wants whatever you have.”

  Aidan turned from the fireplace and looked at her. She obviously didn’t know that Owen was doing this to save his own life, so she hadn’t gotten as close to him as she thought. “Jealous or not, he won’t get Penton. Kill him if you get the chance, or don’t. Regardless, watch your back. He won’t ever fully trust you, no matter what he tells you.”

  He paused, hating that she’d set this plan in motion. “You know, after what happened with Daniel, I can’t bond you back into the scathe. No human would ever agree to be your fam, and I wouldn’t ask anyone to.”

  Lucy stood up and pulled the front window drape aside about a quarter-inch, looking for movement. “I understand that. I knew the cost of what I did, and I’ll live with it.”

  She dropped the shade and headed for the door. “And just so you won’t be surprised, Mirren’s been standing outside the window waiting to rip my heart out if I made a move against you. Tell him he’s not nearly as stealthy as he thinks.”

  Aidan gave her a grim smile as he got up to see her out. “Tell him yourself.”

  Pausing in the doorway, she turned and placed her hands on either side of his face, and then kissed his cheek. “Good-bye, Aidan.” As he watched her stride across the yard and disappear into the shadows, he thought of their years together, her spirit and humor and love, and it felt as if part of him were walking away with her.

  Mirren cursed as he climbed the front steps and paused on the stoop to look into the darkness between the Calverts’ house and Aidan’s. “How’d she know I was here?”