Fateful Reunion (A Scanguards Novella) (Scanguards Vampires)

by Tina Folsom

  “Help me,” Ilaria begged.

  8

  Charles barreled up the stairs. Something had happened, and he hoped he wasn’t too late.

  Zane blocked his path on the second floor landing, a gun pointed at him.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Where’ve you been?” Zane pressed out through a clenched jaw, his eyes glaring red.

  “What have you done to Ilaria?”

  He shoved the bald vampire out of his way, knocking him against the wall with a short burst of his power, and charged through the open door into Ilaria’s room. He skidded to a halt. The scene playing out inside Ilaria’s room wasn’t at all what he’d expected.

  Though Grayson was armed like Zane had been, his weapon was lowered, and he was silently staring at the two women on the bed: Roxanne was holding a crying Ilaria in her arms, comforting her, caressing her exposed back, calming the pulsing mark. His mouth dropped open as he saw how the mark began to pulse more slowly, its evil weakening under Roxanne’s gentle touch. Slowly, in front of his eyes, Ilaria’s red aura turned purple, then blue, until it got lighter and lighter.

  Having heard or sensed his arrival, Roxanne’s head turned to him, her eyes full of empathy and understanding.

  “Your uncle is here,” she murmured to Ilaria and made a sign for him to approach.

  His feet carried him to the bed, and slowly, gently, Roxanne eased herself out of Ilaria’s embrace and transferred the girl to him.

  “I was so scared,” Ilaria whispered at his neck.

  He stroked his hand over her hair. “I’m here now, honey, I’m here. Everything will be alright.”

  She lifted her head, a ray of hope shining in her eyes. “Did you find them?”

  He nodded.

  A shiver went through her, and her voice trembled, as she asked a second question, “Will they help me?”

  He smiled and kissed her on the forehead. “They will come for you tomorrow night.”

  All the tension left her lithe body, and she sagged against him.

  “Rest now. I’ll be close by.”

  She nodded and allowed him to tuck her in, before rising from the bed and turning back to Roxanne. Roxanne and Grayson had retreated to the door, and Zane was now standing behind them, glaring in open hostility. When nobody moved, he motioned to the hallway behind them.

  “Downstairs,” Charles said.

  “Somebody has to watch her,” Zane grunted, making a gesture with his gun hand.

  “No,” Charles insisted. If Ilaria sensed a threat against her—and it was hard not to see Zane as a threat—the evil in her would rise again, trying to protect itself. “She’ll be fine.”

  Still Zane didn’t stand down. To Charles’s surprise, Roxanne suddenly said, “Let it go, Zane. We’ll discuss it downstairs.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Zane growled, but then pivoted and marched toward the stairs.

  Charles exchanged a look with Roxanne. He could see the many questions in her eyes. And finally, he would answer them all.

  Moments later, he was facing Zane, Grayson, and Roxanne in the living room.

  “You should have told me,” Roxanne began.

  Charles blew out a breath through his nostrils and shoved a hand through his hair. “Scanguards would have never helped me if I’d told you how dangerous the situation is.”

  “You mean how dangerous Ilaria is,” Zane interrupted, a hostile tone in his cutting voice.

  Charles glowered at him. “It’s not Ilaria who’s dangerous. It’s the mark. The evil inside her.”

  “Same thing!”

  Roxanne lifted her hand to stop her colleague. “Let him explain.”

  Charles nodded, grateful that Roxanne wasn’t condemning him outright. After all, she had every reason to do so: he’d kept a vital piece of information from her, lied to her in fact, though he’d hated doing it. But the time for lies was past now.

  “The mark Ilaria carries on her back is something every witch fears. Generations of witches have tried to eradicate it, because it spreads pure evil in this world and it turns its host into a willing participant once he or she has given up resistance. The way to stamp out this evil has always been to kill the witch who carries it. It’s our duty to do so. So that all of us and all of you will be safe.” He looked straight at Zane, then at Roxanne. “I know that Scanguards has collaborated with witches before. Had I told you about the true meaning of Ilaria’s mark, any witch in your acquaintance would have advised you to kill Ilaria immediately.”

  “Seeing how the mark pulses, I wouldn’t have needed somebody to tell me to shoot it,” Zane growled.

  “The first time it started pulsing, I was afraid, too. But fear only makes it worse. It gives it power.” He looked at Roxanne, his heart warming at the recollection of how she’d comforted his niece. “You weren’t afraid. It helped Ilaria fight it. I thank you for that.”

  “Haven warned me,” Roxanne said.

  “Haven?”

  “A colleague. I had him do some research for me. He found writings about the mark. He called just as I realized you were gone. I went into Ilaria’s room, looking for you and found her sleeping, but the mark wasn’t.”

  Charles’s heart stopped. “It was active while she slept?”

  “What does that mean?” Roxanne asked, clearly anxious.

  “You’d all better sit down.” All three bodyguards remained standing, and all three suddenly seemed to widen their stances as if preparing for battle. Their instincts were solid, and he hoped they’d be on his side once the inevitable battle ensued. Shrugging, Charles corrected, “Well, I guess standing works, too.”

  Charles looked at the ceiling, listening, but upstairs everything was quiet. Then he lowered his gaze and looked at the three vampires. “One in a thousand witches is born with the mark. It looks like a perfect tattoo at first. A tiny pentagram. It has no power when it’s that small. But as it grows, it matures, developing more symbols, more signs. Getting stronger. And it starts influencing the child, exerting control over it. The child becomes difficult to handle. It lashes out at its parents, its siblings, anybody the mark perceives as a threat.” He sighed deeply. “When Ilaria was put in my arms as a three-month-old, I knew it would be difficult to keep her on the right path and give her the strength to reject evil. But I never knew how much it would cost me.”

  He looked at Roxanne, searching her eyes, trying to make her understand. It had cost him Roxanne’s love.

  “I knew the reasonable thing would have been to kill my niece, so she would never have to suffer, and never hurt anybody.”

  “It was fucking selfish of you to let her live!” Zane growled.

  “Selfish? You can call it what you want. But I made a promise to her mother. I was torn, and in those moments when I wavered, Ilaria gave me the greatest gift: the love of a child for her parent.” He felt tears rise to his eyes and turned away, pretending interest in the old fireplace. “I knew then that I could never kill her. I hid what she was as best I could. We never stayed anywhere for long. And all the while I searched for the other witches of the mark.”

  “There are more like her?” Roxanne echoed.

  “Yes. The same, yet different. They’ve conquered the evil, and now they control the mark on their body. It doesn’t control them.” He turned to face Roxanne and her colleagues again. “Don’t get me wrong, they’re still powerful witches, more so than I or any other witch I know. When they’re present, you can feel their power. It draws you to them, puts you at their mercy. But they don’t hurt people, not unless they feel threatened. They’re not controlled by evil any longer.”

  “How?” Roxanne asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s their combined willpower, maybe a secret ritual. Nobody knows. It’s their secret, one they’ll only share with their own kind. I only know that I have to deliver Ilaria into their care. It’s her only salvation. And ours.” He sought Roxanne’s eyes. “I lied to you when I said that the witches that were hiding us woul
d have killed you, because you’re a vampire, had I taken you with me. That’s only partially true.”

  “What?” Grayson croaked, tossing a confused look between Charles and Roxanne as if playing ping-pong. “You know each other from before?”

  “Oh, please, keep up,” Zane grunted. “Anybody could see that, but clearly you only have eyes for the girl.”

  “Jerk!” Grayson hissed at Zane.

  “How Roxanne and I know each other is a story for another day,” Charles said, addressing Grayson, before looking back at Roxanne. “I didn’t know if I could control the evil in Ilaria. Had I taken you with me on the run, Ilaria could have killed you during one of her fits.” And he would have never been able to forgive himself for that.

  “Fits?” Grayson now said.

  “Moments when the mark is trying to exert power over her. She lashes out at everybody in those moments, gets violent. The more fear and hatred people around her exhibit during one of those episodes, the stronger the mark reacts.” He smiled at Roxanne. “By trusting her not to hurt you, you helped her fight against it. I saw her aura change right before my own eyes—from a volatile red to a calm blue.”

  “I couldn’t see the changing colors in her aura,” Roxanne said.

  “Only witches can see that kind of depth in their fellow witches’ auras. Other preternatural creatures can only identify that her aura is that of a witch. I saw her colors change when you comforted her. You made the evil subside. For now. But not for much longer.”

  Roxanne breathed heavily, clearly affected by his words. “What are we gonna do?”

  “Get backup before Ilaria kills somebody,” Zane snapped.

  Roxanne whirled around to him. “Didn’t you hear what Charles just said? If we show fear and hatred, the evil will lash out.”

  “Well, what do you suggest? Hug her to keep her and us safe?” Zane snorted in disgust.

  “While that’s a little too simplistic, it does help temporarily,” Charles had to admit.

  Zane glared at him and gritted, “I was joking.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.” Charles doubted that the vampire was capable of a joke. Or a smile. A tender embrace would really stretch the imagination.

  “Charles, focus,” Roxanne demanded. “What can be done?”

  “I’ve already done it.”

  “Done what?” Zane asked full of suspicion.

  “Tonight I sought out the witches who conquered their marks. They’re willing to take her and help her fight the evil. Tomorrow night.”

  “Oh crap,” Zane cursed. “More fucking witches.”

  “I don’t know what you’ve got against witches,” Grayson threw in, crossing his arms over his chest. “I like them.”

  “You just want to get into his niece’s pants,” Zane snarled.

  Anger made the hybrid’s eyes glare red. “Don’t be so disrespectful. Her uncle is standing right here.”

  But Zane wasn’t bothered by such a tiny detail. “I’m not fucking blind, am I?”

  “Stop it!” Roxanne yelled. “Both of you! We have a decision to make.”

  “I’ve made mine,” Zane claimed.

  She glared at him. “As a team.” Then she looked at Charles, and her expression softened. “Will you be able to control her until tomorrow night?”

  Barely. Now that the evil was manifesting while she slept, it wouldn’t be long until Ilaria would lose her valiant fight. “I’ll need help.”

  “Anything I can do,” Roxanne offered.

  “Not from you.” He motioned to Grayson. “From him.”

  Grayson pointed to his chest, which seemed to swell a little. “From me?” He grinned. “What do you want me to do?”

  “How are you with compliments?”

  Grayson grimaced. “What the…?”

  “When Ilaria wakes, I want you to distract her. Pay her compliments, flirt with her. Keep her occupied. Make her think you’re interested in her, like a young man would be interested in a young woman. Tell her she’s pretty.”

  “Sure, but why?” Grayson asked, clearly confused, yet definitely interested.

  “Because love helps her fight evil. When Ilaria first set eyes on you, her aura changed to the purest white I’ve ever seen. It signified goodness and purity. Somehow when she’s with you, she’s stronger, so much stronger than I’ve ever seen her. If she believes a handsome young man is interested in her, it’ll help her more than I could at this point. It might just be enough to see us through the next twenty-four hours until the witches come to take her.”

  “Of course, I can do that. No problem.” The words sputtered from Grayson’s mouth, but Charles didn’t miss the grin that was spreading on his lips.

  “That’s just sick,” Zane grunted to himself.

  Charles ignored him, and addressed Grayson instead. “Oh, and Grayson, that’s not a license to get into her pants. Do you understand me?”

  “Sure.”

  Charles had to turn away from the hybrid’s smirking face, or he was likely going to smack him. But right now, he didn’t think he had any other choice. Ilaria was too close to the edge. A wrong word could tip the balance of power between her and the evil inside her. A young tomcat like Grayson might be just the right medicine for now.

  “I still say we get backup,” Zane insisted now.

  “I thought you said you counted for two,” Charles replied, not liking the vampire’s combative attitude.

  “Nice try, buddy, but insulting me won’t change my decision. Roxanne, I’m going to call HQ, whether you like it or not. This is a job for more than three people. Particularly since Romeo here”—he motioned to Grayson—“won’t be any use at all should something go wrong.”

  She nodded. “Fine. Get backup, but don’t have them come to the house. I don’t want Ilaria to feel threatened. Have them stationed around the perimeter.”

  Zane pulled his phone from his pocket and marched into the kitchen.

  “Grayson, why don’t you give us a moment,” Roxanne said.

  “Why… uh… oh. Sure, yeah. I’ll just… wash my hands, or something.” He awkwardly sauntered out into the hallway and disappeared into the bathroom.

  Suddenly alone with Roxanne, there was silence. Charles shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He had come clean. No more secrets. No more lies. Now he needed to find out where they stood.

  Yet he hesitated. He’d said everything there was to say. There was nothing else to reveal. He’d told her already that he loved her. That he’d never touched another woman after her. That he still wanted her.

  The ball was in her court. It was up to her now to take the next step.

  Roxanne made a motion as if readying herself for something difficult. His heart leapt, filling with hope.

  But whatever Roxanne had wanted to say or do, didn’t happen.

  Because the earth beneath their feet began to shake.

  ~ ~ ~

  The earthquake was barely a 5.5. Nevertheless, Roxanne braced herself as the familiar rolling waves tried to rob her of her balance. After a few seconds, it was all over. She did a quick assessment of everything around her. A painting on the wall hung askew, but it hadn’t fallen down. A vase had tipped over, but fallen, safely, on a cushion.

  Roxanne sighed with relief and gave Charles, who looked a little bit shaken, a reassuring smile. “Probably only a five pointer.”

  “More like a five point three,” came Grayson’s reply from the hallway as he strolled into the living room.

  The door behind Roxanne opened.

  “Barely a four point eight,” Zane claimed coming out of the kitchen.

  “You’re not even a native Californian,” Grayson said. “What do you know about earthquakes?”

  Roxanne rolled her eyes. Those two got increasingly competitive the more time they spent with each other.

  “More than you, considering I’ve lived in this state longer than you have.” Zane pulled his phone from his pocket and waved it in Grayson’s direction. “
Wanna bet I’m right?”

  But instead of answering, Grayson turned his head to the hallway. “The earthquake woke Ilaria.”

  Roxanne listened. Grayson was right.

  “I’ll check on her,” Charles said and rushed past her, waving to Grayson. “You’re coming with me. I doubt she’ll want to sleep now. There are likely to be aftershocks. Somebody should keep her company.”

  Grayson grinned and followed Charles upstairs. Roxanne watched both of them disappear and heard them enter Ilaria’s room.

  “Damn earthquakes,” Roxanne muttered and turned back to Zane, who was making a phone call on his cell.

  “Hey baby girl,” he said in hushed tones, tones that were much softer and gentler than he used with his colleagues. Only when he spoke to his wife did Zane sound friendly. Clearly, Portia, his blood-bonded mate, knew how to bring Zane out of his hard shell.

  “How are you and the boys? Did anybody get hurt?”

  Roxanne busied herself adjusting the painting on the wall, not wanting to listen in on Zane’s conversation.

  “About the earthquake of course,” Zane said, his voice a little louder now.

  Something in it made her look at him and notice the deep frown lines that now appeared on his forehead. Their gazes collided. Something was wrong.

  “So you didn’t feel it then?” Zane hummed, listening to her response. “No, no, it wasn’t strong. Maybe just a three pointer.” Alarm flared in his eyes as the lie rolled over his lips. “Didn’t mean to alarm you. No, everything’s fine. Hug the boys from me, okay? Love you, baby girl.” He disconnected the call.

  “It’s impossible that Portia wouldn’t have felt it,” Roxanne said.

  “Exactly my thinking.” He tapped on his iPhone. “We’re on bedrock here, my house isn’t. If we felt it, my house would have shaken even worse.”

  Roxanne approached so she could see the screen of his cell phone. “What’s the CGS say? Any alerts yet?”

  Zane shook his head. “None.”

  Roxanne pulled out her own phone and opened a social media site. “Social media is faster than the California Geological Survey. I bet you a hundred teenagers have already posted or tweeted about it, or whatever they do.” She scrolled through a multitude of posts. Not a single one mentioned an earthquake in Northern California.