Indignant, I returned to the monitor. “And when exactly have I had time to read The Canons while hunting Dakota and running a multi-million dollar global gaming company with Sheridan?”
Hoping to stave off a headache, I rubbed my forehead, pushing my thumbs deep against the sinus cavities to help relieve the pressure. “My sister is a prisoner on that island. If our strategy works, the Rakshasa won’t have anything left to celebrate. They especially won’t be roasting Dakota over a fiery spit.”
I stood up from the computer and followed him to look out over the crystalline water. He opened up his arms to me, and I leaned in close against his chest, breathing in the warm frankincense he wore. Even if it were just for a fleeting moment, in his arms, I could allow my mind to escape—to pretend we were all alone on a holiday and not faced with this nightmare.
The playful waves mingled with the beachy scents of salt and seaweed while I watched the fish jump out of the water in their graceful aquatic ballet. My fingers twirled the little hairs peeking out from the top of his t-shirt. He wore one of his favorite band shirts with the words “Another One Bites the Dust” written across the chest and the Queen concert tour schedule on the back.
“Breathe, Cheyenne.” His lips lingered on my forehead as his hand tangled in among the dark red, auburn curls at the nape of my neck. Khaldon finished his words in a soothing whisper. “Everything is jolly well fine. Our plan is solid. As soon as Torchy and Harris arrive with the final supplies, we’ll load up on the beach and take off with the dragons. We’ll get her back—tonight. You have my word, m’lady.”
I wanted to vouchsafe his reassurance—to stand in his arms and pretend this horrific night was already over, but my doubts consumed me. An inner voice nagged hard at the edges of my gut, pouring acid over an already bleeding ulcer. I was afraid, and everyone knew it. Worst part was, I knew it too. Dakota was my baby sister I’d sworn to protect, and I had to face this fear. There was no going back now—after months we had finally found her.
Dammit, none of us sisters ever broke the promise of our almighty sister pinkie swear, no matter what the cost. Despite the fear, I had even come to terms with the possibility that the cost could be my own life.
* * *
We disembarked from Khaldon’s yacht, the M’lady, and climbed aboard the skiff toward Jolly Boy Beach about fifty yards from the stern of the ship. We loaded the supplies and trussed the nylon body harnesses around our chests and legs. My feet felt confined in the black combat boots, but from the sound of the creepy crawlies inhabiting North Sentinel, I didn’t want to take any chances of bug or snake bites.
I should take a picture of myself in this get-up; Sheridan will laugh out loud for sure.
The sun hung low in the sky as the gulls flew to the beach, finding their mates, chicks, and nests for the night. The waters choppy, we steered the little boat to the shore to meet up with our crew, Ludovic Zyryanov, Tony Briggs, Harris Archer, and Torchy Gravenor. They were to meet us along with an arsenal of guns, ammunition, and various other search and rescue accoutrements.
Khaldon’s best mate and loyal dragon ally, Torchy, and my best friend, Harris, were on a final supply run we needed for Dakota’s rescue mission. The six of us had rehearsed her forced extrication in virtual simulators, but crossing over into the real world from a cyber-reality was an entirely different story. Unable to anticipate alien factors, we had to expect anything could go wrong.
I spoke over the small outboard engine. “How long do you think we can keep Ludovic alive before the vampyre queen orders Amicula to try and kill him again? Once we have my sister back, won’t the queen keep coming after Ludovic to locate Dakota? How can we be sure turning him loose wouldn’t endanger us again?”
Khaldon steered away from a patch a kelp. “Well, Chey, I think you’ve just answered your own questions.” His face held a stern frown as if he’d been pondering the same question for a bit of time himself. “We can’t risk it any longer. Especially now that Sheridan is going to have the twins soon. It’s not right, endangering the children—always having to look over our shoulders. Do you want to spend the rest of your life running? Ludovic is a threat to our family now—more than ever.”
I didn’t answer him because he was right. Deep down inside, I did know the answers. We couldn’t keep Ludovic around us and we couldn’t allow him to fall back under the control of the queen. After a few moments, I responded with a surprising sadness in my heart. “Even though I despise him, I guess I never really thought about killing someone just because they were a threat to my family’s survival.”
Khaldon stared at me possibly remembering an age of his own innocence. Past days when life was simple and fun and not so politically corrupt.
My eyes studied the calm of his face, and I wished I could feel that level of confidence. I ached for the days when I knew nothing about this dreaded paranormal life and I never had to worry about answering the front door. Normal humans don’t have to worry about flower delivery guys trying to kidnap them. Why should I?
My life was total shite now and I hated it.
Khaldon pointed to a huge rock on the far side of the beach. “Did I ever tell you how the Andamans got their name?”
I shook my head and gave him a small smile. Not really interested in what he had to say, but I knew he was trying to ease my mind away from the topic of killing Ludovic, so I placated him and tried to give the appearance that I was paying attention.
“It was about the time when…”
Khaldon piloted the boat closer to shore, maneuvering around the outcroppings of Mangrove trees. Even though he talked about the Andamans and their lore, his words faded beyond my thoughts as I preoccupied myself with the reasons I was in this skiff in the first place.
As the boat chopped across the gentle crests, the waves lulled me deep into questions I’d pondered a hundred times before, but never managed to answer.
What would have happened to me if my sisters hadn’t have been kidnapped last Halloween? Would I have continued my life as a software gaming designer? Would my days be filled with worrying about the next boss sequence or the mobile roll-out of the game? Would I have gotten a female boxer puppy as a companion for my Beano puppy? Those mundane decisions seem so irrelevant to the ones I was forced to make now.
I reached into my camouflage jacket pocket and took out a picture of me and my sisters dressed up for Halloween Scream Nights: Me as a fifth-century mummified streetwalker, Dakota dolled up as, Elvira Mistress of the Night, and Sheridan, disguised as a man-eating plant in a Ghillie suit. I traced Dakota’s face with my finger and bit back a sob in the back of my throat. Would I really get her back tonight? Would she still be the sassy brat I adored?
Talk about a case of mistaken identity. Ludovic was all wrong about us. Why would a vampyre queen want to kidnap us in the first place? The Irish, red-headed, O’Cuinn sisters—from a royal bloodline? Insanity! I caught the hint of a smile trying to escape my lips and almost laughed out loud dismissing the ridiculousness of the thought.
I breathed in the pungent, salty, seaweed aromas of the beach and sat quietly in the boat trying to take it all in. I stared at the back of Khaldon’s head as he pointed this way and that, showing me the what-nots about the flora and fauna of the surrounding seascape. If I were honest with myself, I’d admit to being baffled at how my online boyfriend of two years was actually a different man, and a vampire to boot.
Why couldn’t he just’ve been a normal guy?
I gave him a sweet, simple smile and nodded my head in such a way that showed I was indeed listening, but couldn’t help but mull over a new set of questions which would require decision and action soon.
What will our lives be like if we rescued Dakota tonight? What do vampire couples do for an eternity? When forever becomes real, it’s seriously intimidating. Would we become dull and boring when the fun runs out? How long does the secret sauce last anyway?
What if I didn’t embrace the vampiric lifestyle Khaldo
n craves? I wasn’t sure if I could—or even wanted to embrace it. What would we be doing if we weren’t trying to rescue my sister?
If we weren’t in the midst of adrenaline junkie acts of heroism, would he grow tired and leave me? Could I handle being a vampire alone if he did?
But I think the most important question was: Did I want to keep around a guy who felt the need to change me? I liked who I was, even if that was a chicken-shit vampire from time to time.
I looked back at the yacht and the comfortable safety of the ship and longed for the happy voyage home. I heaved a worried sigh and tried to unravel the knot of angst in my gut. For now, we were anchored twenty miles east of where my sister was held captive on that island, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was my final chance to find Dakota alive—and would it be Ludovic’s last night to live?
Chapter Two
We beached the skiff up on the shore, where Tony Briggs dug his toes into the wet sand. Dragon Mafia hit man and one of the senior programmers for my online role play game, Briggs lifted the wet clumps of sand and dripped them onto the sandcastle turrets he must have built while waiting for us to arrive. Complete with a four-foot-tall dragon guarding the moat, the castle was over ten feet long.
A French, gargouille water dragon, Briggs had the same human muscular build as his paranormal form. Standing over six feet tall, black, both a lover and a fighter, he simply exuded sex. His shaved head and brilliant white teeth showed off his full mouth when he spoke. His voice always reminded me of the singer, Barry White, deep and intoxicating. No wonder my sister Dakota was fool crazy over him.
To add to the overall quagmire of the Dakota love triangle, Tony was madly, deeply in love with my sister and hated Ludovic with every dragon scale of his body. Briggs wasn’t taking any chances on losing our sole connection to his true love. Several attempts on Ludovic’s life by the vampire queen self-employed Briggs as the Romanian’s personal bodyguard and constant companion.
In many ways, I think Briggs missed his calling. Besides putting the squeeze on the paranormal watch in New Orleans, the one oddball thing that stood out was his love for cooking. You wouldn’t think such a burly man would care for such a thing, but he held a passion for food. Daily, Briggs goaded Ludovic by reciting scrumptious French gourmet recipes, with Ludovic served as the main course. When we landed on the beach, Briggs was mid-sentence in his thick French accent in what sounded like a tasty marinade.
“Oui? Doesn’t dzat sound délicieux?” Briggs flashed his million-dollar canines at Ludovic and then turned to pull the boat further up onto the beach. The skiff rocked back and forth until it had a firm footing in the sand.
Briggs hollered back over his shoulder to Ludovic in his best Julia Child’s impersonation, “How ’bout I use a dzick slab o’ organic grass-fed butter with fleur de sel and a heavy shake of herbes de provence. Dzen I'll simmer shallots and tarragon in a red wine vinegar with a splash of sherry while I braise your tough ole hide in dzhe slow cooker. Oui?”
“Sounds bloody delish. When’s dinner?” Khaldon asked.
“Tonight, just after midnight.” Briggs grinned devilishly at Ludovic seemingly to make him as uncomfortable as possible.
Ludovic rolled his eyes obviously bored with hearing yet another recipe, but still squirmed against his bonds.
Always a gentleman, Briggs offered a hand to help me out of the boat. I managed to step off into the sand without slipping on the wet seat.
Even though I didn’t care for Ludovic because he’d sold us down the river, I was able to empathize with him. I stiffened, looked away, and shook my head while Briggs continued to recite human recipes, knowing in an hour, we too, would face cannibals on North Sentinel.
Do the Rakshasa brew up marinade recipes too?
I covered my eyes with my hand and gazed up and down the beach. “Hey, where’re Harris and Torchy?” I grabbed my rucksack out of the boat and threw it over my shoulder.
“Not to worry, Chey Chey. Dzey’ll be along soon.” Briggs unloaded the diving spear gun with extra arrows and set them beside the rest of the supplies we had prepared.
“They’re not here? Seriously?” I kicked a broken shell away from my foot, shooting white sand into the air. “How could Harris do this?”
“They’ll be here. I’m sure there’s a good reason.” Khaldon squeezed my shoulders. “We can’t leave without them, so let’s just take inventory of what we have and go through the checklist and timeline again.”
Harris was my best friend, the brother I never had, and the best networking programmer I ever had the courtesy of working with. But he had a chronic issue of always running on the Harris Archer time zone. Despite being chronologically challenged, he also had this curious little habit of turning into a werewolf. A small detail he neglected to share with me while we were college roommates. For three years.
It wasn’t until he outed me as a vampire last November that I learned who he really was. All his cyberchrondriac maladies, every full moon, clicked into place, and I understood the drive behind his enormous carnivorous appetite.
I heaved my shoulders round in circles trying to massage out knots of stress. “Dammit, I told Harris not to be late.” I cursed under my breath.
“I’m sure it won’t be long. We still have time before we’re scheduled to leave.” Khaldon pressed his talented fingers deep into my neck muscles, rubbing out the tension. Immediately, the pain eased with the touch of his hands as I willed the tightness to dissipate.
“Werewolves are always late, but I’m sure ’arris has a good reason,” Briggs rolled his words in his French dialect. “Oui, let’s just ’ope dzeir tardiness isn’t an omen of how tonight will end.” He laughed in an evil muah hah hah way, which did not help to unravel my anxiety.
My muscles tensed again, spiking a shard of pain behind my lids.
Briggs lit up a cigar, his smoky brimstone intermingled with the sensual scent of warm vanilla in his tobacco. The puff of white clouds contrasted against his chocolatey skin almost concealing him against the white sands.
From a palm tree off to the side where Briggs had tied him, Ludovic chimed in with his husky Romanian accent. “My comrades, I wouldn’t underestimate the Rakshasa. If the Lycan is bringing more intel, it’s worth the wait. We know nothing about them.” Ludovic’s tone added a sneer to his words, making me question if he was trying to be helpful or if he was just trying my nerves instead.
“Maestru Briggs, what would I need to endure to have a few puffs of that trabuc?” A fly landed on Ludovic’s nose and he attempted to swipe it away, but with both hands tied to different trees, he had to blow at the bug instead.
Briggs walked over to Ludovic with the cigar. He exhaled a stream of smoke from his mouth and inhaled a dual stream into his nostrils before blowing a forceful plume into Ludovic’s face. The fly buzzed away. I couldn’t tell who enjoyed the gesture more—Briggs blowing smoke, or Ludovic free from the bug. It was an odd relationship.
No matter how drop-dead gorgeous Ludovic was, he was a walking cliché of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. As her vampyric maker, Ludovic was the only one who could mind-message with Dakota. It frustrated the hell out of me because I never knew if he was being truthful with us. Hatred for this man burned through every fiber of my being, but our plan couldn’t work without him.
After spending months of time with Ludovic underfoot and even helping to rescue him from Amicula, I had come to understand why Dakota had been attracted to him when they dated. He had bad boy written all over him. His eyes were dark and mysterious, his untamed hair black and short-cropped. His winning smile held a voice that could melt butter with the way he romantically rolled words off his tongue. It was becoming clear the types of male attributes Dakota liked. She had a thing for languages and teeth.
Had it been any other night and under different circumstances, I would have set up my camera and tripod to marvel and shoot the beauty of the sunset, but tonight the twilight colors across the sky became the sands
of an hourglass condemning me to my fate.
I heaved another heavy sigh and escaped the testosterone-ladened insults from Briggs by taking a small jog down the beach.
I needed to be alone. To breathe.
To think.
I took off my combat boots and rolled my fatigues up to cuff them up at the knees. I strolled far enough away to talk out loud to myself. “This is crazy.” I paced back and forth along the water while my toes sank into the pristine white sands. My calves already ached from the unused muscles pushing into the next step. White and blue crabs, carrying their left claws the size and weight of their scampering little bodies, scurried under fallen palm fronds and wet driftwood.
Outwardly demanding the Gods’ attention, I threw my arms up in the air. “Are we insane for doing this by ourselves? Do we need a legion of vampires, werewolves, and dragons to help us?”
I picked up a broken, barnacle-encrusted seashell and skipped it out into the waves. “I’m not sure we’re qualified for this mission.” My voice trailed off and I hung my head with resolve. “Or, at least, I’m not qualified.”
I kicked a weather-worn coconut husk. “I shouldn’t go. I’ve got no feckin’ idea in hell what I’m doing. I’ve never fired a gun. What if I accidentally hurt someone?”
I skipped a shell out over the waves.
Two skips.
My conscience got the best of me. The little angel who sat on my right shoulder tried to talk some sense into me. “What are you thinking? You could totally compromise the mission and put their lives in danger. This is not a place for you. You need to call this mission off or find someone better to replace you.”
Throwing it harder, I shot another shell out over the water. Stepping into the water, I embraced the warm waves crashing around my ankles.
Four skips.
The little red demon who lived on my left shoulder and loved to stir up shite just couldn’t keep the guilt away. “Yeah, but would you ever forgive yourself if they died and you didn’t do anything to help them other than weasel out? Do you really want to be known as the wimpy vampire who stood by and did nothing to save your family and friends?”
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