Rage blackened Aidan’s vision, but Krys’s voice eased through him like cool water. Don’t listen to him. Stay focused.
She was right. Owen was trying to push his buttons, get him angry enough to make a mistake, and it had almost worked. He sent a thought back to her: Slide the shotgun to me when I get in front of you. He moved slowly to his right, two small steps, and as he hit the ground, she shoved the gun toward him.
By the time Owen reacted, Aidan had it aimed.
Owen backed up and held up his hands. “You’re no killer, Áodhán. You couldn’t kill me in Kinsale, and you can’t do it now.” He circled the room slowly, away from Krys, edging toward the door.
Aidan’s hand was steady. The barrel of the shotgun tracked Owen’s progress.
They both stilled at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Aidan grinned. “Friend or foe, Eógan?” he said. “You assumed I cut the bonds to my people again, but are you willing to bet your life on it?”
Owen hissed and bared his fangs, charging as Aidan pulled the trigger. The shot tore through Owen’s shoulder and upper chest, splattering blood on the wall but not stopping his forward motion. Too late, Aidan saw the syringe in Owen’s hand and heard Krys scream.
The needle entered his belly, and Aidan’s thoughts blurred with pain as he hit the concrete floor with Owen’s unconscious weight on top of him. He didn’t have the strength to move Owen off him, but he squeezed his hand between them to fumble for the syringe. His fingers finally closed on the cylinder and pulled it out, empty but for a coating of red inside. Vaccinated blood. He’d forgotten about the damned blood. How much had he gotten?
Enough that he already felt like someone had doused his guts with gasoline and lit a match.
His mental link to Krys had gone black, and he struggled to push Owen off him.
He’d never been so glad to hear Mirren’s gravelly voice. “I got him, A.” Then Owen’s weight disappeared, and Aidan turned his head in time to see Mirren’s big hands clamped on either side of Owen’s head. His brother’s neck broke with a dull snap.
Aidan tried to sit up. “Krys—gotta check.”
Mirren pressed his shoulders to the floor and stuck his face an inch from Aidan’s. “I’ll check on her, but don’t you freaking move, got me?”
Aidan nodded, and Mirren left his field of vision. If anything had happened to her, he couldn’t survive it. He didn’t want to.
“She’s alive.” Mirren pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number. “You keep getting in so much trouble, even I have Mark on speed dial now.”
Aidan closed his eyes as Mirren barked instructions. Then he opened them again as the big man peeled off his jacket, sat on the floor next to him, and pulled up the sleeve of his own sweater. He jerked a knife from his boot and made a neat incision on his forearm. “Emergency rations,” he said, and lifted Aidan’s head to help him drink. “Go slow. Then we’re going to have a repeat of the drain-and-fill routine you did on me. Payback’s a bitch.”
Warmth spread through Aidan’s system as Mirren’s blood revived him a little, and he relaxed, slumping back to the floor. “Nasty stuff. How bad is she hurt?”
A groan from Owen got their attention.
“Shit.” Mirren went to stand over Owen while Aidan struggled to his feet, holding onto the wall until the room quit spinning. When his brother had fallen, his head rested at a decidedly odd angle. Now it was beginning to straighten.
“He’s healing.” Mirren looked at Aidan. “What do you want to do with him?”
Aidan looked at his brother for a few seconds before leaning over to pick up the knife he’d lost earlier in the fight. He dropped to his knees beside him, closing his eyes till another wave of dizziness passed. Owen’s face was softer in unconsciousness, more like the carefree boy he’d once been. They’d loved each other then, and Aidan wasn’t sure when things had changed, how they’d ended up so far apart. It had started long before Abby. Damned thing was, he’d finally realized tonight that Owen wasn’t the only one he hadn’t forgiven for Abby’s death. He hadn’t forgiven himself.
But this wasn’t the brother he’d loved. That brother had died in the woods north of Kinsale. “Good-bye, Eógan,” he whispered. “Be at peace.”
Aidan lowered the knife and pierced his brother’s heart. Owen never woke.
Mirren couldn’t believe Aidan had done it—just cut the damned heart out and laid it carefully on the floor, then toppled over in a dead faint.
He looked around at the mess. Aidan unconscious, Krys unconscious. Blood all over the room. Owen dead next to his own lump of a heart. What a freaking train wreck.
Where the hell was Will? He heard a noise at the door, but it was Hannah.
She stopped and stared at Aidan for a moment, then walked to Krys and knelt beside her, touching her arm. “Her future is uncertain.” The girl frowned. “There are two paths, one that leads into light and one into darkness, and I can’t see which one she takes. It will depend on Aidan.”
Damn. They were mated, so he could be draining energy from her. Mirren had to get him into a drain-and-feed. He was turning a nasty shade of yellow. There was a reason Mirren didn’t want his own scathe, and he was looking around at it. Responsibility.
“Bloody hell. Literally.” Will breezed in and stood over Owen. “Please tell me that’s the son of a bitch’s heart on the floor.”
“I’m tellin’ you. But he didn’t die before he shot Aidan full of vaccinated blood. Get him over to the clinic while we figure out what to do with Krys.”
“You called Mark and Mel for the feed?”
Mirren nodded. “Yeah, they’ll meet you there. I’ll come as soon as I can.”
“What’s the deal with her?” Will stood over Krys, watching Hannah hold her hand and croon to her in an unintelligible chant.
“Hannah can’t tell. We need to get her to a hospital and—”
“Negative.” Will grabbed Hannah’s shoulders and moved her out of the way, leaned over, and picked up Krys. “No hospitals. No humans involved in this bollocks. I’m taking her to the clinic—you bring Aidan. If she makes it, terrific. If not, so be it.”
Mirren had never seen Will look so fierce. Fact was, he’d always wondered what Aidan had seen in the man. Good at organizational shit, but never kept the same fam for very long, never formed any close ties. Didn’t seem to like humans for much besides feeding and sex. But Aidan trusted him, and that had always been enough.
“It won’t matter if he moves her,” Hannah said. “Her future paths remain the same.”
Will snorted and left, his boots echoing in the stairwell as he took Krys away.
“Holy mother of God.” Mirren looked at Hannah. “Can you tell anything else?”
She shook her head. “Jerry told you something, though?”
Mirren had broken a few strategic bones when he finally caught Jerry Caden outside the mill, but the bastard had spilled it before he died. He didn’t know a lot about Owen’s backers, but he did remember the name Ludlam: Will’s daddy and Mirren’s greatest nemesis on the Tribunal. Taking on Matthias Ludlam promised that some major shit was going to fly.
He didn’t say it aloud, but Hannah looked at him with those creepy black eyes and said, “Yes, it is.”
“Can you do this?” Mirren watched as Melissa pulled the portable IV unit into the sub-suite where they’d done his drain-and-feed earlier. He’d laid Aidan out on the bed. The man was still in coma-land, but Mirren had secured his arms and legs with silver chain just in case and had tied him down at the waist as well.
Melissa’s hands shook as she set up the IV bag, and she sniffled. “I can’t believe we’re having to do this.”
“Hold it together, darlin’.” He watched her tie off Aidan’s arm and insert the needle, watching the pale blood race through the tube and into the bag. “How’s Krys?”
Melissa sat beside Aidan and stroked his hair, looking up as Mark arrived. “She’s in and out. Wants Aidan. Wants to get up
. Talks to her father. Really hates her father.”
Hell. Sounded as fruit-loopy as Lucy. She was still restrained in one of the secured suites under city hall, behind silver bars, next door to Owen Murphy’s teenage vamp. They were feeding Lucy at knifepoint to keep her from killing the donors, who were scared shitless. They were going to have to put her down eventually, so maybe he should go ahead and just do it while Krys couldn’t lay a guilt trip on them about it.
“I think he’s coming around.” Mark sat on the bed on the other side of Aidan while Melissa switched IV bags. Aidan had begun straining against the chains, although he hadn’t opened his eyes. “Where’s Will?”
“Playing lookout,” Mirren said. “Trying to track down the rest of Owen’s wandering scathe members.”
Melissa looked up. “Is Hannah still with Krys?”
“Won’t leave her.” Mirren couldn’t believe the way she’d latched on to that human. Maybe because Krys didn’t seem nearly as creeped out by Hannah’s skills as the rest of them were.
“Uh-oh, showtime.” Mark took a step away from the bed. Aidan’s eyes popped open, silvery white, and he struggled against the chains. He bared his fangs and jerked toward Melissa, who calmly moved out of reach.
“Suck it up, A.” Mirren moved to the foot of the bed where Aidan could see him, and the chains stilled. “I know you can understand me, ’cause Jenn talked my ear off while I was at this party and I heard every word she said. Here’s the deal, in case you’re fuzzy on the details. Owen’s dead. Will’s rounding up any of his people who might be hanging around and convincing them it’s not in their best interest to stay. You got some vaccinated blood and we’re getting it out.”
Aidan’s voice rasped. “Krys?”
Mirren had hoped he wouldn’t ask. She was barely hanging on. “She’s across the hall. Hannah’s taking care of her.”
Aidan closed his eyes, and Mirren was glad he hadn’t asked for specifics. On some level, because of their mating bond, A probably knew how bad off Krys was. But he hoped that awareness would stay cloudy a while longer.
“He’s getting weaker.” Melissa watched the heart monitor, drawing signals from the sensors that she’d stuck on his neck and chest, beeping more slowly. “Mark, you go first so I can keep an eye on him. Remember from when we did this with Mirren—he doesn’t know to anesthetize and go slow. It’s gonna hurt. I have some bandages over there for afterward.”
Mark pulled a small knife from his pocket, scoring his forearm. He stretched out on the bed and held his arm so the blood would drop on Aidan’s lips. Aidan stirred and opened eyes that were almost white.
Aidan had better pull through this. Mirren had suspected how unsuited he was to lead a scathe but he hadn’t really known till tonight. Aidan could have it. Too many decisions—who got medical care, who was responsible for what job, everybody wanting a piece of you. He’d always known that Aidan was one tough SOB in his own moody way; he had to be, just to hold the same scathe together for so long. Tonight Mirren had had to deal with just a fraction of the focus it must take to keep up with everybody’s crap. No thanks.
Aidan pulled against the chains, fangs out, reaching for Mark’s wrist. “Here we go,” Mark said, and flinched as he lowered his arm and let Aidan bite.
Before she fell asleep at night, Krys always flew. She’d ease into some twilight half-consciousness where she could soar. She’d fly over foreign landscapes she’d never seen in real life, gliding soundlessly, watching the terrain change below her, feeling the air move out of her way as she traveled.
She felt like that now, only she was awake. And the terrain was a ceiling with crisp edges and crown molding. Her room in the sub-suites.
She was dying. She knew it in the lucid moments, recognizing the physical symptoms. Her hands and feet felt like blocks of ice, telling her the circulation was slowing. Her lungs were full of cotton. She slept most of the time. And the pain seemed distant now, only background noise.
She turned her head and saw Hannah’s black eyes on her. The girl had been here whenever she woke. Last time she’d looked, those eyes had been closed in daysleep. So it must be evening again.
Krys needed to know one thing, and she swallowed, trying to pull enough breath to ask.
“Aidan will be well. They are replacing his blood. He’ll be here soon.”
Right. This was Hannah. She didn’t have to ask, because Hannah always knew. “Tell him—”
Hannah placed a small hand over Krys’s mouth. “Don’t talk. You must make a choice, and I must ask you this before Aidan gets here.”
What was she talking about? Krys swallowed and finally gave up, just thinking the question at her: What choice?
Tears spilled from the girl’s eyes. “You are dying.”
Krys tried to smile. “I know,” she finally croaked out, then thought: It’s OK. Tell Aidan I wouldn’t have changed anything. Make sure he knows that.
“You could still be with him.” Hannah’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You can become one of us.”
Krys’s heart, slowing on its march toward a total stop, caught a burst of adrenaline and fluttered. Could she do that? Would she do that, to stay with Aidan?
“It doesn’t always work,” Hannah said. “And we don’t have much time. But decide now. If you wait, it will either be too late or the choice will fall to Aidan.”
Krys closed her eyes. She didn’t know what came after death. There were the near-death stories of white lights and peace. Once she had thought peace was all she wanted, but not anymore. Aidan hadn’t realized it, but he’d shown her how to live. And she wanted to live with him, on whatever terms it had to be.
He was so conflicted about his own nature, would he still want her if she were a vampire? Would he rather have her be like Abby and die whole and human? She started to ask Hannah those questions, but didn’t. This wasn’t Aidan’s decision. It was hers, and she wasn’t Abby. She wanted to live.
She opened her eyes and looked at Hannah, choking a little as she swallowed again. “Do it.”
Hannah moved to the opposite side of the bed, away from Krys’s broken arm, and closed her eyes.
What was she waiting on? If she dragged it out too much, either Krys would lose her nerve or faint again, or Aidan would get here. He might or might not turn her. But he’d flogged himself for centuries over what had happened with Abby. She didn’t want him having to decide.
“What is it, darlin’?”
Krys shifted her eyes to the door, where Mirren towered. Had Hannah called him?
“She is dying, and we’re going to make her vampire.”
Krys felt the room gray and float farther away. “Do it,” she whispered. “No time.”
Mirren closed the door behind him. “Hannah, the Tribunal’s outlawed turning anybody, and last thing we need is more of their shit raining down on us.”
Krys was vaguely aware of Hannah moving away from the bed. “Do you care about the Tribunal or do you care about Aidan?”
Somebody had better move. Krys batted her hand on the bed to get their attention, and it wiped out all the strength she had left.
“Shit. Damn it all to hell.” Mirren sat on the bed where Hannah had been. “I’ll drain her. I can take more blood than you. Then you feed her.”
He turned Krys. “You ready for this, darlin’? It’s almost like the drain-and-feed, but we take it all the way. You’ll die on us, and then we’ll bring you back. But you gotta know, it doesn’t always work. It’s about a fifty-fifty shot.”
What difference did it make? She was dying anyway. Krys blinked to show she understood. “S’OK.”
He stretched out alongside her. “I need to hit a big vein and do this fast, right?”
She blinked again, and felt his fingers probing for her carotid artery. Her heart suddenly galloping, she swallowed hard and fought the flight urge. Was she really going to do this? God, what if she came out a real monster? What if...
She gasped as his fangs hit the artery
. The last thing she saw before the room faded was Aidan standing in the doorway, his face twisted in rage.
Aidan was immobile, eyes frozen on a scene that could have taken place four hundred years earlier. Owen at Abby’s neck. Mirren at Krys’s.
With a roar he flew at Mirren, whose mouth sucked hungrily at her artery, her blood streaming down her neck onto the pillow. She was the same color as the sheets.
Something tackled him halfway to the bed and he fell, trying to scramble out of the iron grip that dragged him to the floor.
Fangs bared, Aidan looked over his back at Hannah. Her arms were locked around his chest and her legs around his thighs, crippling him. She might have looked like a child, but her physical strength was vampire. He wrestled her beneath him, unwilling to hit her.
“She wants this,” Hannah gasped. “She was dying. It’s her only way to survive.”
Aidan shot an elbow back and heard an umph as her grip broke and she fell away from him. He stayed on the floor, staring up at Mirren. His long body stretched beside Krys, a heavily muscled arm thrown across her waist, his mouth at her neck, jaws working. Aidan rose and gave Hannah a warning look that kept her on the floor. God help him, he didn’t know what to believe.
“Are you sure?” He swallowed his own hunger as he watched Mirren feed. “Are you sure she was dying? Are you sure this is what she wanted?”
Hannah’s voice was steady. “Yes, I saw it from the beginning—that she would have a choice between two paths. I didn’t know until today what paths they were. She could die or she could live as one of us. I asked her and she wants to try. She knows it doesn’t always work, but she wants you.”
Time was running out. She still might not make it. Or she could survive but end up like Lucy, a mad animal that had to be fed and caged. And the Tribunal would have one more reason to come after them, for turning someone during the pandemic crisis. Not to mention that she might not want him anymore afterward, might not love him the way she had as a human.
Redemption (The Penton Vampire Legacy) Page 29