Fateful Reunion (A Scanguards Novella) (Scanguards Vampires)

by Tina Folsom

  “Hmm,” Zane grunted, then returned to the living room.

  From the kitchen she heard noises. It sounded like Grayson was still trying to get into Ilaria’s pants by turning on his charm. Men!

  She turned her head to look at Charles. “I don’t need you to make excuses for me.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Well, my bad. Why don’t I get settled—” He motioned to his bag. “—and give you time to cool off.”

  “I don’t need time to—”

  But Charles was already marching upstairs. She whirled around and headed for the bathroom. The moment she’d locked the door behind her, she took a deep breath. Then another one.

  She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Gabriel’s direct line. He picked up almost immediately.

  “Roxanne, what have you got for me?”

  “Can you patch Haven in? I think he should hear this.”

  “Give me a sec.”

  She waited while Gabriel established the three-way call.

  “It’s Haven, what’s up, Roxanne?” she heard her colleague ask a moment later.

  “You know about the assignment I’m on, right?”

  “Gabriel filled me in earlier. How can I help?”

  “Do you have any way of contacting Wesley?” Never mind that she didn’t particularly like him, but at least Wes might be able to help her figure something out.

  “Sorry, I tried numerous times over the last few days, but it’s going to voicemail. I can’t even locate his cell on our GPS. Either the chip is broken, or...” He sighed heavily. “I have no idea where he is or how he’s doing.”

  Hearing the worry in Haven’s voice made her feel bad that she’d often treated Wesley with coldness. She knew Wesley didn’t deserve it, but she hadn’t been able to separate the man from the witch. “I hope he contacts you soon.” She took a breath. “He has an extensive collection of books on witchcraft and history. Could you try and find something for me in those books?”

  “What do you want me to look for?”

  “Charles told me that Ilaria, the witch we’re supposed to protect, is his niece. Apparently she was born with the mark, whatever that means.”

  “What kind of mark?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t specify. But he said it makes her different from other witches. I need to know what that means. And why other witches would hunt her because of it.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” Haven promised.

  “I appreciate it.”

  “Roxanne?” Gabriel now said.

  “Yes?”

  “Have you found out anything else? Why he’s here? What he wants? Why he needs protection for her?”

  Roxanne leaned back against the cool tile wall. “I’m working on it. But he’s cagey. All he said was that Ilaria needs to be with her own kind. And that her future is here in San Francisco.”

  “Have you tried to get close to him to make him trust you again?” Gabriel probed.

  Yeah, and look how that turned out!

  “Roxanne?” Gabriel asked again.

  “I’m working on it. Gotta go.”

  Roxanne disconnected the call. She should have never let herself be talked into taking this assignment. Now she was caught between—well, between what and what? Her heart and her head? Her past and her present? Her duty and her desires? Whatever it was, she was trapped. And the door to the trap she found herself in was slowly closing.

  If she were smart, she’d make a run for it and get away while she still could.

  6

  After reassuring himself that Ilaria was taken care of, Charles withdrew to one of the bedrooms on the second floor, telling Roxanne and her team that he was going to sleep. Nobody questioned him. After all, witches weren’t nocturnal like vampires. But he didn’t sleep. Instead, he took a map from his travel bag and spread it on the floor in front of the bed. From a side pocket he retrieved a crystal on a leather string.

  He reached for the tissue on the bedside table. A blotch of red, dry by now, was in its center. Blood from Ilaria, not just from any spot on her body, but taken from her mark. She’d agreed to it without protest, knowing what was at stake. He wrapped the blood-stained tissue around the crystal.

  Cross-legged he sat down, stretched his hand holding the string out over the center of the map and closed his eyes. He hummed a soft melody, while concentrating on his solar plexus. As warmth spread from cell to cell, he felt a tingling in his arm traveling down to his fingers. He allowed it to release into the string and reach the crystal. It began to swing.

  He’d done this several times before they’d come to San Francisco, starting when Ilaria had first come into her powers. And now that she was getting stronger, the readings he got became more accurate. It was time to make contact, though he was sure they already knew that Ilaria was here. Just like Charles could sense his niece’s power, so could other witches. And that fact made his quest more urgent with every day that passed. Soon, more and more witches would hunt them, and there would be no place to run anymore. No place to hide what she was.

  When the crystal dropped to a spot on the map, drawn to it like metal to a magnet, he bent over the map. Golden Gate Park.

  Charles rose and packed away his tools, slipped on his jacket, and listened for sounds from downstairs. It was quiet, but he knew the vampires were awake. Earlier, he’d heard Zane leaving the house to do a perimeter check. He was back now, pacing the downstairs hallway. No human would be able to leave the house without him knowing, for a vampire’s hearing was so sensitive, it would pick up any sound.

  While Charles didn’t move as stealthily as a vampire, he had other skills. A silencing spell made sure no sound left his bedroom while he slid open the window and peered outside. The house was built on a steep hill, and though he was on the second floor, the drop on this side of the house was less than ten feet. Charles hoisted himself through the window, lowered himself, then let go of the window sill and dropped down into the overgrown garden. For a moment he remained frozen, listening intently, but nothing moved inside the house.

  It didn’t take long to reach the main road. No sign of a taxi or other transportation. It didn’t matter. From what he’d gathered from the map, he was less than three miles away from the spot in Golden Gate Park that the crystal had pointed to. Charles fell into an easy jog.

  He reached a clearing. Moonlight filtered through the trees, casting shadows onto the ground. Charles stopped in the middle of the meadow and waited. He could feel the collective power that surrounded him. It was different from the power he felt from other witches. Stronger, more potent.

  The shadows suddenly began to move, separating themselves from the trees. Remaining still, he watched them approach. Three of them, more shadow than form, more ghost than living being. The witches of the mark. Their aura identified them as different from other witches. It drew him to them like moth to a flame, a sign of their banked power surpassing his. The air crackled with electricity. Tension rose like mist.

  “You found us,” an ethereal sounding voice said, “yet, you are not one of our kind.”

  “I need your help.”

  One of the shadows moved closer. “It is not you who needs our help,” a second voice claimed. “We can sense one of our own near.”

  “My niece, Ilaria. She’s one of you.”

  “How old is the child?”

  “She’s no child anymore. She’s twenty-three.”

  “And she’s still alive?” One figure came closer and finally he could see her. A woman of indistinguishable age, neither beautiful nor ugly. She gave him a once over. “And you have protected her for all this time?” She mumbled something to herself. “Despite the danger to yourself? Why?”

  “She’s my flesh and blood.”

  “Even fathers and mothers have killed their children once they recognized the mark, knowing what the future holds. Knowing the dangers.”

  “I made a promise.”

  “How much longer does she have?”

>   “Not long. With every day, the evil comes closer.”

  “Did you bring what we need?”

  He reached into his pocket and produced a photograph. He’d taken it only days ago. A picture of Ilaria’s mark.

  It was pulled from his fingers and lifted into the air, only to land in the witch’s hand a moment later. The witch studied it, before lifting her head, surprise flickering brightly in her eyes.

  “I’m surprised she hasn’t killed you yet.”

  He knew that. He also knew he wouldn’t be able to dodge that bullet for much longer. “Will you save her?”

  “Does she want to be saved?”

  7

  Roxanne retrieved a gun from a hidden panel in the living room of the safe house. She didn’t often use a gun, but on certain assignments she liked to be armed to the teeth.

  “Perimeter check?” Zane asked.

  She nodded. “See you in five.”

  “Want me to come with you?” Grayson called to her, popping his head through the open doorway leading to the kitchen.

  “I can handle a fucking perimeter check,” she growled and marched to the door.

  “Gee, I was just asking.”

  She knew why she’d snapped at the young hybrid. She was still annoyed with herself about how she’d handled Charles. His words continued to echo in her mind. I won’t give up until you’ve forgiven me. But how could she forgive him when his actions had caused her years of pain? How could she put that behind her?

  Snatching her parka off the hook near the entrance, Roxanne opened the door and stalked outside. Her training kicked in, and she studied her surroundings. The lot the house sat on backed up to a grassy slope that ended in a dense patch of woods on one side of a hill. The front looked out over the houses farther below. It was a good vantage point. Any car coming up the narrow street could be seen from afar.

  Roxanne rounded the corner to the tiny back yard, pulling the parka tighter around her torso, though she didn’t really feel the cold night air, not like a human would. Or a witch. Involuntarily, she lifted her eyes up to the second floor where Charles slept. Through the open window, she saw light in Charles’s room. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping after all. Maybe he was just avoiding her? And if he was, could she really blame him? After all, she’d treated him with open hostility even after he’d told her why he’d had to leave her. Any reasonable person would have accepted his explanation. Any reasonable person would have forgiven him by now. But she couldn’t shake the suspicion that he hadn’t told her everything.

  She let her gaze roam toward the woods, but all was quiet there. Then she looked back at the window when it struck her. Why was his window open? Her skin prickling with awareness, she turned on her heel and marched back to the entrance.

  When she walked inside, she hung her parka back on the hook and looked up the stairs. Was she just looking for an excuse to talk to Charles, or was she truly concerned about the open window? No matter the reason, she set one foot on the first step.

  “Going upstairs?”

  She snapped her head to the side. Zane had startled her. “Do you have to sneak around like that?”

  “I don’t have to.” He managed a half-smile, though barely. “But I like to.”

  “Sick, just sick,” she ground out and walked upstairs. “I’m checking on them.”

  “Need help?”

  “No.”

  “You know what you’re doing, I suppose,” Zane said with a smugness in his tone that made her want to smack him.

  Yes, it was her fucking business if she wanted to talk to Charles. But did she really know what she was doing? By going to him now under pretense, wasn’t she putting herself in the same situation again? Wouldn’t he see right through her like he always had? Would he see the woman who wanted a second chance, but didn’t have the faintest idea how to go about it, how to leave her past behind and start fresh?

  At the door to Charles’s bedroom, she hesitated. Inside her a battle raged.

  Don’t let him hurt you again, one voice said. Give him another chance, another argued.

  Before she could decide which voice had more weight, she was already knocking at the door. There was no reply.

  She turned the knob and opened the door. “Charles…”

  Her words died when she saw the empty, unused bed. Charles was gone.

  “Shit!”

  She rushed out of the room and ran to the bedroom Ilaria occupied. Without knocking she swung the door open. The light from the hallway fell onto the bed, illuminating the young witch. Roxanne rocked to a halt. What she saw was impossible!

  Ilaria was lying face down, the covers down at her knees, wearing pajama bottoms and a cotton bra that exposed most of her back. She was hovering several inches off the bed!

  But that wasn’t the worst of it. After all, she was a witch, and some witches had impressive powers. But what Roxanne saw on Ilaria’s back was much more frightening. She slammed her hand over her mouth to prevent herself from screaming.

  But Ilaria had heard her nevertheless. She suddenly dropped back on the bed, whirled around and shot up, reaching for the sheet to cover her front.

  “The mark,” Roxanne murmured, unable to believe what she’d seen with her own eyes.

  With the frightened eyes of a doe Ilaria stared at her, scrambling back, pulling her knees up to her chest as if to protect herself.

  But Roxanne had already seen what Ilaria was trying to hide. Intricate signs and symbols criss-crossed Ilaria’s back. The design took up nearly half her upper back. Roxanne would have dismissed it as a tattoo had she not seen the symbols pulse like the heartbeat of a living being. Whatever was embedded in Ilaria’s back was alive. Alive and dangerous.

  “Don’t hurt me!” Ilaria begged in a voice so faint Roxanne didn’t even know whether she’d heard her speak it or whether she’d simply interpreted the frightened girl’s expression.

  The sound of footsteps on the stairs announced the approach of her colleagues. Roxanne flipped the light switch, bathing the bedroom in warm light just as both Zane and Grayson barreled upstairs and appeared behind her.

  “What’s wrong?” Zane asked, the tone in his voice indicating that he was on high alert.

  “Charles is gone.”

  “Fuck!” Zane cursed.

  “How the fuck did he get past us?” Grayson asked. “I heard nothing.”

  But Roxanne knew better what Charles was capable of. She should have been prepared. “Probably used a spell to leave the house unnoticed.” She glared at Ilaria. “Where did he go?”

  Ilaria’s lips quivered, her eyes shifting to Roxanne’s hand. Roxanne followed her gaze and realized only now that she’d drawn her weapon and was holding it in her hand. No wonder Ilaria was scared. Slowly Roxanne holstered the gun, but before she could repeat her question, her cell phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and checked caller ID.

  “Haven,” she answered the call. “What have you got for me?”

  “You’re not gonna like it,” the witch-turned-vampire started.

  “Let me make that decision.”

  “Well, I found a lot of stuff about marks and such. But most of it was inconsequential, except for one particular mark. It’s called the Mark of Cain. Any witch born with the Mark of Cain is considered property of the devil, born evil. It says once she attains all her powers, she’ll be able to destroy mankind.”

  “Fuck!”

  “You said it,” Haven replied. “Witches carrying the mark are hunted by every coven. They’re feared because of their power, because they use it for evil, so the good witches of this world formed a group of slayers with the sole mission of killing witches with the mark.”

  “Is there anything about what this mark looks like?” Roxanne asked, though she already knew the answer.

  “I’ll read it to you: the mark manifests as a birthmark in the form of a pentagram, growing with each year into an intricate design of symbols—”

  “—and signs that pulse as if
alive,” Roxanne finished.

  “How the—”

  “I’ve just seen one.”

  “Ah shit! You gotta get out of there, now!” Haven yelled through the phone. “When it pulses, the evil wants to break through. You can’t stop it. Once the evil is unleashed, nobody can defeat it.”

  “Thanks, Haven, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Roxanne, you’ve gotta—”

  Roxanne disconnected the call and shoved the phone back in her pocket. A sideways glance told her that her colleagues had heard every word Haven had spoken.

  Their guns were pointed at Ilaria. The girl shrieked.

  “I’m not evil,” Ilaria whimpered. “Please, I’m not evil. I’m fighting it. Charles, he helps me fight it.” Tears sprang from her eyes.

  Roxanne had never seen a person so scared. When she locked eyes with Ilaria, suddenly her own past washed away, and all she saw was a child that needed protection, a child that would have been killed had it not been for the man who put his own desires aside to protect her.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Roxanne murmured and approached slowly so as not to frighten the girl even more.

  “Stay back, Roxanne,” Zane warned. “It’s not safe.”

  She looked over her shoulder and motioned him to remain calm. “She’s just a girl.” Then she continued her approach.

  Ilaria watched her every step, shivering uncontrollably. “Don’t.” She lifted her hand. “Please. Don’t come any closer. What if it tries to hurt you?”

  “You won’t let it,” Roxanne coaxed softly. “You’re stronger than that.” At least she hoped so. Ilaria had to be stronger than the evil that was trying to control her. Or they would all perish.

  Roxanne swallowed her fear and sat down on the bed, then gently pulled Ilaria into her arms. For a few seconds, Ilaria remained stiff, but then, hesitantly, she slid her arms around Roxanne’s back and held on for dear life. Roxanne brushed her hand over the girl’s hair, when the sound of the front door slamming startled her.

  Ilaria screamed. Beneath her other hand, Roxanne felt the mark pulse anew.