Maybe little Gloriana Cummings had a Georgia drawl and worked in a convenience store, but she was smart and fearless. They’d do well not to underestimate her.
“Quit talking about killing. Nobody’s killing anybody.” Mirren stood and walked to the window, pulling back the blinds to reveal the silent street outside. The Penton clinic lay on the eastern end of the small downtown area. Before Matthias had sent Owen Murphy to rain a shitstorm all over them in January, they’d had a bustling nightlife, a thriving town of vampires and their willingly bonded familiars. Now, two months later, people were afraid to wander too far from home after dark.
Glory had no clue what she’d been dragged into. Telling her might be the only way she’d open up. Fuck me. How had he become the voice of Penton all of a sudden? Aidan was the politician; Mirren was the muscle. But for some reason Mirren couldn’t pretend to understand, Glory seemed to trust him, and he felt responsible for her.
He turned back to face her. “Here’s the deal. Matthias Ludlam is going to come looking for you, and next time, he won’t wait for me to kill you. He’ll do it himself.”
CHAPTER 8
Glory watched Mirren pace the room and listened to him talk for the better part of an hour. If she hadn’t spent the last month as some kind of drug-addicted vampire hostage, she’d have thought he was loony tunes. Now, nothing seemed impossible, even the idea that there were starving vampires, crazy vampire politicians, and vampire pacifists.
“OK, just so I’m clear on this, the vampires are on the verge of some kind of civil war because so many humans got the pandemic vaccine and y’all are starving—except here in Penton, where you have your own people to feed you? And in this civil war, Matthias is the North, and you and your buddies here in Penton are the South? And this Tribunal that Matthias belongs to, it’s like the federal government that’s going to come and stomp you out like bugs if you don’t break up your town and join the union?”
He stopped midpace and stared at her. “How the fuck did you pull that from what I told you?”
Glory narrowed her eyes at him. “Will you please stop cursing? I don’t like it. In fact, anything you say to me with the F-word in it, from now on, I’m not going to respond to.”
Mirren opened his mouth, then shut it.
Hah. That put a sock in it. He cursed more than anyone she’d ever met. “OK, then. So maybe it’s not like the real Civil War, but that makes sense to me, so we’ll stick with it.” She crossed her arms and waited for him to answer.
Mirren growled and slung himself back in the chair, almost toppling it over. “Will you shut it with the Civil War crap? The whole point is that you’re in danger. Even if you don’t tell us what you can do, Matthias will think you have—and that’s enough to bring him in here to kill you, and probably a lot of us along with you. Plus, what he did to you is illegal, so he’ll want to shut you up. The vampire leaders will punish anyone who draws human attention our way, which certainly includes kidnapping one and holding her prisoner. As long as you’re alive and free, Matthias will see you as a threat.”
“So I might as well tell you what I can do? You’ll use me against him instead of the other way around? What’s the difference, vampire?”
“Aw, fuck me. I give up.” Mirren slouched in the chair and closed his eyes like he had a headache, although Glory didn’t know if vampires got headaches. She stifled a laugh; he looked like he might be counting to ten. Annoying Mirren Kincaid was the most fun she’d had in a while.
She considered what he’d told her, though. It wasn’t such a stretch to believe Matthias Ludlam would come after her if he thought there was an off chance she might help the Penton vampires or finger him for kidnapping her. If she went home, she’d be vulnerable. There weren’t that many Native Americans in Roswell, and even if she moved somewhere else in the Atlanta area, her dark skin and eyes were distinctive enough that anyone with motivation or money could find her.
Glory felt like one of those sad helium balloons that had lost most of its gas and sagged in midair. It wasn’t like she had much to go home to anyway. A rental apartment, a crappy job she wouldn’t dare return to after what had happened—even if they’d take her back. That silly dream of going to the Cordon Bleu would probably never have come true anyway. People like her—half Muscogee and straight off the tribal lands in Whigham, Georgia—didn’t turn into chefs. They toiled at blue-collar jobs or worked in the casinos. If they cooked, it was slinging scrambled eggs at Waffle House.
Mirren still slouched with his eyes closed, so big that he made the straight-backed chair frame look like it belonged in one of those preschool classrooms filled with miniature furniture. What was his story? Matthias had said he was a killer, but she got a strong protective vibe from him—even though she suspected he’d chafe at being seen that way. He had a trace of an accent. Not English, exactly. And like this, with those thundercloud-gray eyes closed and minus the scowl, he was a rugged kind of handsome. Really handsome.
The thundercloud eyes popped open. “Stop staring at me.”
Glory felt her face heating and lowered her gaze to her hands. She had to either risk going home or trust him. “I can move things,” she said, her voice low. “I don’t know how. It’s something my granny could do too, but she died before she could teach me how to control it or what use it could be to me.”
Mirren straightened in his chair. “Move things, how?”
It would be easier to show him than try to explain something she didn’t understand herself. Glory looked around the room again and settled her gaze on the stand that held the IV fluids. She envisioned it in motion, rolling across the floor about six or eight feet, which would put it next to Mirren. Filtering out the noise of the heating system, the occasional car, her own breathing, she focused on it. Within a couple of heartbeats, it slid smoothly across the room and came to a stop within reach of Mirren’s left hand. He touched it, frowning.
“You’re sure Matthias doesn’t know you’re telekinetic?”
Interesting that he knew the term for it—she sure hadn’t till she did some research online at the library. Her granny had called it “the touch.”
She shook her head. “I’ve never told anybody. My family—what few of them that are left—they think I’m a freak. When I’m upset or scared, stuff moves without me doing it on purpose, and I don’t know how to stop it.”
She closed her eyes, giving in to the mental slide show of quick images from her childhood fashing before her. Broken dishes, vases gliding off tables, shards of glass that stirred on the floor like leaves being blown by a gust of wind, a tree crashing into the road in front of the family car. Her mom yelling, which made it worse. Her dad locking her in her room, keeping her out of school until she agreed to control herself and stop acting like her freak of a granny, but no one ever helping her learn how to stop doing it.
Realizing that she’d bunched edges of the bedsheet into her fists, Glory relaxed her hands and whispered her most embarrassing truth. “I don’t know how to control it. It controls me, more often than not.”
Mirren’s brows met in a hard line. “If that’s true, why didn’t you lose control when you were taken? Why didn’t you toss a sofa on top of Matthias and escape? Makes me wonder if you’re not part of some plan Matthias cooked up to infiltrate our scathe and betray us. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried that trick.”
Of all the pigheaded, stupid…Glory sat up, made sure she was steady, then got to her feet. Two quick steps and she was in his face. “Listen, you overgrown baboon of a vampire, you think I wouldn’t have left if I could? You think I let them shoot me full of drugs and feed off me and scar me because I, what, enjoyed it so much?” She poked him in the chest, and he lowered his gaze to her hand as if he weren’t sure what it was. “You’ve kept me—what did you call it?—enthralled all week so I was out of it, and yet you don’t understand why I didn’t toss a freaking sofa on top of that asshole’s head?”
“You cursed.”
/> “And what makes you think…?” Glory frowned at him. “What?”
He smiled—well, he lifted one corner of his mouth, which she suspected was the Mirren version of a smile. “You cursed. You said asshole. If you say asshole, I can say fuck.”
Glory bit her lip, but she could n’t stop the laugh from escap ing. He rewarded her with another mouth twitch. “Well, how about that, vampire? You made a joke.”
“I don’t make jokes.” He shook his head as if trying to shake off the humor threatening to soften his edges. Because God forbid he should actually break his face with a real smile.
“OK, what are your limits? Can you just move small things?”
With a huff, Glory returned to sit on the bed. “I moved a car one time. Another time, I broke a tree.” At his doubting expression, she held up a hand in a Boy Scout salute. “I swear, snapped it right in half. I was really, really mad at my mom.”
“So your parents are still…?” He left the sentence unfin ished.
Glory knew what he was getting at. “Nobody will give a hoot if I don’t ever show my face back in Georgia, and I don’t much care, either. My question is, will you guys let me stay here a while and keep Matthias away from me? Or else help me move someplace he can’t find me? Will you help me even if I don’t agree to try and use my telekinesis to help you?” She couldn’t believe she was asking vampires to protect her from…well, vampires. But Mirren could have killed her many times over, and he hadn’t. She had a good instinct for people, even people with fangs and unusual dietary habits.
“We can do that.” Mirren’s expression was inscrutable, and Glory felt a little stab of disappointment. What, she wanted him to beg her to stay?
“You can do what? Let me stay here or help me go someplace else?” Pulling information from Mirren Kincaid was like squeezing sap from a dead tree stump.
He stood up and moved the chair back against the wall where it had been when he and the vampire horde had arrived. “That’s Aidan’s call—he’s head of this scathe. Penton’s his town.”
Well, that sounded like a cop-out if she’d ever heard one. “Then I guess I’m talking to the wrong person. Maybe I’d better talk to Aidan, after all.” Another freaking vampire.
CHAPTER 9
Aidan Murphy leaned into the strong, sure hands of his mate. Krys’s fingers kneaded the muscles in his shoulders and upper back, digging under the tight cords and working them loose until he relaxed into the massage. If they were home, he’d repay the favor—with interest. But, no, they were stuck here at the clinic office, waiting for Mirren to finish talking to the…whatever Glory Cummings was.
Funny how she’d latched on to Mirren, of all people. He might be Aidan’s best friend, but he wasn’t exactly Mr. Warm and Nurturing. “Ouch.”
“Quit thinking—you’re getting all tense again.” Krys leaned over from her spot behind his chair and nipped at his ear, whispering, “I know just the thing for that too.”
“Will you two get a room already?” Will sat at the clinic desk, tapping on the keys of his laptop. “Listen to this—you’ll love it.”
Aidan snaked a hand out and pulled Krys into his lap, nuzzling her neck in the way she liked and that always made her laugh. They both froze as a voice boomed out of the computer speakers. Matthias Ludlam. Aidan would recognize those dulcet tones anywhere.
“William was here, and you let him walk right down those stairs and take Kincaid. Not only Kincaid, but the girl as well. You couldn’t have sent me a mental signal? Of all the stupid, irresponsible—”
“But, Matthias…Sir, I mean. He’s your son. I couldn’t risk killing him when you hadn’t given us any instructions—”
The last sentence ended in a scream and a thud.
“Shelton gets his comeuppance.” Will grinned at them, although his expression was a little shaky around the edges. Will knew his father wanted him back in his own scathe. This confirmed how badly.
“Whatever Shelton gets, it isn’t bad enough.” Mirren appeared in the doorway, having overheard the snippet of recording. “You should’ve killed him when you had the chance.”
Will winced and nodded.
Will Ludlam was the smartest guy Aidan had ever met—creative, quick on his feet, loyal. He wasn’t the killer Mirren was, or even Aidan himself when he needed to be. Will had trouble separating his head and his heart, which wasn’t a bad thing in times of peace. It’s also why Aidan hadn’t used Will much in fighting situations, though.
“You left Glory alone?” Krys kissed Aidan, then got up and walked toward Mirren and the door to the hallway. “I’m going to sit with her a while and see if I can get her to sleep until Melissa comes in the morning. She’ll be well enough to go…wherever she’s going by then.”
Aidan wasn’t sure what to do with Glory Cummings. It would depend on what Mirren had found out, although he doubted he’d learned much. Mirren wasn’t exactly the great communicator. He’d been shocked when Will told him about Mirren’s insistence on bringing the woman with him from the Virginia estate.
As soon as Krys closed the door behind her and her footsteps faded down the hallway, Aidan gestured for Mirren to sit down. “Tell us what you know. She open up to you?”
Mirren sat heavily on the sofa that stretched along the wall beneath a bank of windows. After a week back, his energy hadn’t rebounded, and he still needed some serious feeding.
“Let’s wait until Hannah gets here so I don’t have to repeat it,” Mirren said. “I gave her a mental shout-out.”
Aidan nodded. “What about Randa and Tanner? Need the new lieutenants as well?”
“No, then I’d have to listen to Junior over there bicker with his partner.”
Will muttered something unintelligible, and Aidan gave him a sharp look. “Speaking of which, you need to apologize to her for knocking her out. I get that you wanted to go alone to find Mirren, but you could have just told her no.”
“That woman doesn’t understand no.” Will shut down his computer and took the opposite side of the sofa from Mirren. “Not to mention she thinks she’s always right.”
“Sounds like you.” Mirren shifted on the sofa to face Will. “But thanks for, you know, the rescue. I was so starved I’d have killed Glory eventually, and Matthias would’ve won.”
Aidan couldn’t read the expression on Mirren’s face, but he’d known the man almost a century and a half. He had a good heart and stubborn loyalty, despite being raised as a mercenary in his human life, one of the famous gallóglaigh: part Norse, part Scotsman, all warrior. They were the elite Scottish mercenaries upon whose battle-axes and chain mail the landed gentry of Ireland had relied on to protect their wealth and secure their nation from English invaders.
But how interesting that Mirren had thanked Will, not because it saved him from Matthias, but because it had saved him from killing Glory Cummings.
When Mirren had been turned vampire, he’d switched his mercenary work from rich Irishmen to rich vampires—until he realized the monsters he worked for were far worse than the ones he was being paid to kill. The last time Aidan had seen him this thin, he’d been wandering the pine forests of Georgia during the Civil War after faking his own death with the Tribunal.
“You need to feed twice a day until you get back up to speed,” Aidan told him. Mirren’s only response was an eyebrow twitch.
“How about your new woman? She gonna become your fam?” Will poked the big guy in the arm.
“Touch me again and I’ll break your hand. And she’s not my woman.”
Aidan started to agree that Mirren needed to find another familiar but stopped himself. It was not his call. Aidan knew how he’d feel if he lost Melissa or Mark Calvert, his fam and his business manager. He wouldn’t want to talk about replacements, either. Fortunately, they had enough non-fam humans in Penton to give Mirren temporary feeders as long as he needed to make an emotional connection to someone.
The office door few open. “Where is Mirren?” Hannah rushed into
the room, her pink hoodie thrown back, her dark eyes wide. “I got his message. Mirren never talks to me in my head.”
Aidan stifled a laugh. Mirren never contacted Hannah because her psychic skills freaked him out, although he’d never admit it.
“I’m here, darlin’—I’m OK.”
Hannah walked toward him, and Mirren stiffened. The man did not like to be touched. He flinched when Hannah reached out a small brown hand and rested it on his cheek. “You’ve found someone,” she said softly. “Someone like me.”
Aidan leaned forward in his seat. “So Glory did tell you something. We’re all here now. Talk to us.”
He listened as Mirren went through the story. His words were brief and unemotional, but Aidan could sense a deep anger at the way the girl had been treated. She’d formed an attachment to Mirren, that was clear, but to Aidan’s surprise, it appeared to be mutual. He could see it in the way Mirren’s eyes narrowed at the description of her abuse, the drugs she’d been given.
But it was Will who erupted. “How could my father do that to an innocent woman?” He raked his fingers through his hair and launched off the sofa to pace the room like he was the one who’d been trapped in a cell for a month. “Who does that kind of shit?”
“The same kind of man who turns his twenty-two-year-old son into a vampire,” Aidan said, his voice soft. “This isn’t your fault, Will. You’re not responsible for what your father does.”
“No, no. If I’d really thought about it earlier, called up a list of his properties, I could have gotten them out faster. We always suspected Matthias was behind it. I just didn’t think he’d do…that.” Aidan had never seen Will so distraught.
“Let it drop. Come back and sit down—there’s more.” Mirren turned to Hannah, who’d taken the overstuffed armchair next to the sofa. “She is like you, sort of. She’s Creek, for one thing—not full-blooded, but looks close. But she isn’t psychic. She’s telekinetic—she can move things. Matthias sensed it and took her so he could find out what she could do and use her.”
Absolution (The Penton Vampire Legacy) Page 6