“Yes. My friend told me. She tells me lots of things,” he said, nodding his head, he smiled that sweet, innocent smile.
“Take us to her,” Sheila said, smiling gently. “I’d like to meet her, Robbie.”
Rafe moved up closer to the quiet man, resting his hand on Sheila’s shoulder.
Robbie shook his head. “I can’t,” he whispered, shaking his head. “She’s not strong like you. I have to protect her. I was just supposed to get her something to eat. She’s hungry. Doesn’t eat like she should. But she hates it so.”
Hates it… Rafe’s instincts started to whisper and clamor inside him. “Maybe we can help,” he said quietly. “I’ve been there before.”
The man nodded. “Being a vampire is no fun,” he murmured, his big shoulders slumping.
* * * * *
Whatever Sheila had been expecting, it wasn’t this. Wasn’t this diminutive creature who hid in the shadows as Robbie tried to coax her to come out. “They aren’t bad,” Robbie insisted. “Ella, please. The lady is nice. But he hit me.”
“You hit him?” It was a young woman’s voice, full of anger and fury. Sheila watched as she came rushing out of the shadows, her eyes glowing, fangs dropped as she placed her body protectively in front of Robbie.
“Sweet heaven.” The words came whispered over her shoulder and she decided that Rafe was as surprised as she was.
Lifting her chin pugnaciously, she demanded, “What is wrong with you? Hitting Robbie… Do you like beating on those who are weaker than you?” She sniffed depreciatingly and snapped, “Some bloody Hunter you are.”
“Rafe came at the wrong time,” Sheila interrupted, sliding forward, catching the vampire’s eyes. “He saw Robbie holding my arms and thought I was in trouble. He’s a blockhead, but he didn’t mean any harm.”
Sheila could feel the dark scowl that Rafe directed at her, but she ignored it.
“Haven’t you learned to look with more than your eyes?” the slight woman asked, lifting her chin imperiously.
“Ahhh…guess not,” Rafe said, shrugging.
The woman studied them for a long moment and then she sighed. “Robbie, why did you bring them here?”
The smile on Robbie’s face was serene, happy. “They wanted to help.”
As the woman sighed, a soft, broken little sound, Sheila felt her heart break. “They can’t help us, Robbie. Nobody can.” She moved a little closer, looking at them as she murmured, “Not even the illustrious Hunters.”
Sheila heard the bitterness in her voice and something hot and angry moved through her belly. Something bad had been done to these two. Very bad.
“You’re just a kid,” Sheila murmured, staring down at the fey creature. Her head barely reached Sheila’s breastbone, and Sheila wasn’t a tall woman. Her body was slight, slender, just the beginning of curves on her form and her face still had the softness of childhood.
A sad smile curved the vampire’s lips as she shook her head. “I’m more than four hundred years old, child. I was killed when I was but a girl, but I haven’t been a child for many years. My body stopped maturing, but my brain did not.” She turned to the man behind her and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his waist and murmuring to him before stroking a hand down his arm. “Robbie, well, he will never be much more than a child. But he’s been a good friend, helped me break free from the one who made me. Makes sure I take care of myself. And I take care of him.”
One petite shoulder lifted as she said, “I’m incomplete. I never reached full power as a vampire. I was too young when he changed me. And I wasn’t very strong when I was alive. Then he starved me for decades. I’ll never be strong. But I’m smart. Robbie is strong, but he has a child’s mind. Together we are a whole person.”
Sheila felt a fist wrap around her heart as she saw the sadness in the girl’s eyes. Robbie reached out and patted her shoulder. “We’re fine,” he said, smiling guilelessly. “We got away from him. And we don’t have to be afraid all the time. Sometimes I can even help people.”
Her name was Ella. Sheila settled down on the chair, listening as Ella relayed what had happened to her years ago. The girl—woman—was lonely. And she was a woman, but forever trapped in a body that would never see the full bloom of womanhood.
The smell of magick and blood was heavy in the air. She rubbed her nose as a familiar scent teased her nostrils.
“How long have you been here?” Rafe asked.
She slid him a glance, seeing little more than his eyes as a splash of light fell across his forehead and cheekbones, leaving all of him in shadow, save for those deep penetrating eyes. A shiver raced down her spine, but Sheila turned away from him, looking back at Ella as the vampire settled back with a thoughtful frown on her face.
“A few months, maybe,” she murmured, finally shrugging. “I do not keep track of time well. But we will have to go soon. It was safe when we first came, but lately, there have been signs of others here. We cannot fight against a Master vampire and win.”
Sheila cocked a brow at her. “Why are you so certain you would have to fight? Most vampires are rather peaceful.”
Ella smirked. “Yes. And Hunters like you make sure it stays that way,” she said, grinning as Sheila’s brows rose. “A Hunter has a feel all their own. Robbie never would have brought you here if he didn’t know you were safe. He felt it before I did. Regardless of his handicap, maybe because of it, he has a remarkable ability to read people.”
Then she leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the table, a weary sigh escaping her. “But something else is here now. Something wrong. He kills. He hides.” Her voice dropped to a ghostly whisper and fear made her eyes glow. “We are not safe here.”
Ella turned away, her slight shoulders slumping. Robbie moved up to her and Sheila watched as the big man wrapped a protective arm around her, hugging her close.
Her nose twitched and she reached up, rubbing it again. Damn it, that smell, what was it…so familiar…
The knowledge hit her like a fist in the belly, sending all of the air from her lungs in a rush, spinning around, her hair flying around her shoulders as she dove for the closed door in the corner of the room. Dominic…
“Sheila?”
She shook her head as she shoved the door open, sending it crashing into the wall, tearing from one of the hinges so that it hung crooked. The still form lying on the bed caused tears to burn her eyes. Her ears caught the ever-so faint lub-dub of his heart.
Too slow…far too slow…
In his neck, a nasty ragged bite was healing. She saw a bandage at his elbow and suspected it hid another bite. His lashes were closed over those dark, gentle eyes. And at his upper lip…the faint bulge of fangs.
She spun around, eyes wild as she dove toward Ella. Rafe’s hands caught her around her upper arms and he pinned her struggling body against his as she shouted, “What did you fucking do? He was harmless! You killed him.”
The diminutive vampire shook her head, but the words coming from her fell on empty ears. It was Rafe who made her listen. His arms—so strong, and oddly gentle—wrapped around her and he lowered his head, murmuring in her ear, “Sheila…baby, she couldn’t have done that. What was done to him was evil—we felt it in the air. That girl doesn’t have an evil bone in her body.”
The strength went out of her legs and she collapsed, feeling Rafe’s arm come up under her knees and then she was cradled against his chest as tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks. “Rafe—who did it then? He’s a sweet guy. Just a sweet guy…no threat to anybody.”
He was a threat. To Rafe. A very big one now, and the jealousy in his gut was tearing him in two. But the pain, the confusion that he saw in Sheila’s eyes tore at his heart.
“Belle, the feral creatures couldn’t care less about any of that,” he whispered, carrying her into the small bedroom, lowering himself onto the sole chair, watching as Sheila’s eyes were drawn back to the still body under the sheet. He was sleeping. The deep, sound sleep of the
newly changed. He would sleep close to eighteen hours a day at first. Strength came slowly to the new ones.
Almost like a newborn babe, he had to be cared for and watched, otherwise he just might fade away.
“Somebody killed him,” she repeated numbly. He suspected she was remembering her own change. The man who had changed her had been her first lover, a man who had disappeared only days before they would have been married. He’d survived the change, but not with his sanity intact. Joe Gilbert had come looking for his childhood sweetheart, ten years after he had disappeared.
And Sheila had opened her door to him. Not to welcome him back into her life, but to tell him off for walking away from her.
Her death and rebirth as a vampire had been a brutal one. He knew just how brutal and ugly it must have been—her sweet, soft body had only one imperfection…a nasty, jagged bite on the curve where her neck and her shoulder met, usually hidden by the soft sweaters she wore.
Her ex-lover had beaten her when she’d recoiled in fear from him. Beaten her, mauled her, tortured her, and then he’d bitten her and forced his blood down her throat. He’d dragged her away from her home that night, but he hadn’t gotten far. Kelsey was the one who’d seen the weak vampire attempting to run away from Joe Gilbert less than a day after she’d been Changed.
Needless to say, he hadn’t survived that encounter.
Rafe had only seen the witch upset a time or two, but it wasn’t an experience one forgot easily. Sheila had once confided in him that Kelsey had lit Joe Gilbert up like a fireball.
Some days, Rafe wished the witch had left Joe alive. Just so he could have the pleasure of killing the bastard himself, slowly…painfully. He’d woken up too many times with Sheila shivering in the bed next to him, fighting and struggling in her sleep.
Damn it, her pain had always torn at him.
This was no easier.
The shadows in her eyes closed a tight fist around Rafe’s heart and he wished he could do something—anything—to take them away.
“He’s not dead, pet,” Rafe said finally, his voice low and hoarse. “You are right about one thing—he is a decent guy. You can see straight through him—he’s strong. He’ll come through this fine.”
“Not fine,” Sheila cried out, burying her face in her hands. “Damn it, he wanted to be a doctor. Wants kids. He loves sunrises and sunsets and a million other things that we can’t have!”
“If he loves life, then he will welcome the chance he’s been given,” Rafe said. “It may take time…but what would you rather be? Dead? Or as you are now?”
“I am dead.” She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her breast, and Rafe could have cursed as he felt the heat of her flesh, the silken softness of it. Her fury had warmed her blood, increased her heart rate. As he held his hand over her chest, he counted two beats as he stared into her eyes. “Do you feel that? If I was alive, this heart would beat more. If I was alive, I could have a family, have something.”
“If you were dead, you wouldn’t be in my arms right now, and this heart of yours, this wonderful, open, amazing heart wouldn’t be beating at all,” he said gently. He pulled his hand away, trailing his fingers over the soft skin of her chest before he cupped her chin. “You are alive, Sheila. As is your…lover.”
The word was distasteful to him. But she cared about this kid. And Rafe was damned tired of seeing unhappiness in her clear blue eyes. If this was what she wanted…
A soft voice came from the doorway. “He is weak still. I haven’t the strength to bring him back. Robbie found him, and brought him here. Together, we’ve kept him alive, but he has no bond, no strength inside him to make it through the change.”
Rafe met the woman’s eyes and saw the weariness, the bitterness there. He knew what she was asking. “You tried to feed him? Forge a bond?”
She nodded slowly as a tear trickled down her cheek. “I am not strong enough. I am no Master. My blood isn’t enough for him.”
Damn, the irony… Not only was he going to have to let her go…he was going to have to be the one who saved her lover. I never should have let you push me away, he thought bitterly as he pressed his lips to her brow.
Rising, he placed Sheila in the chair and went over to the kid’s side. “Damn it, how old is he, Sheila?” he asked. In sleep, Dominic looked amazingly young. And sweet. Almost innocent.
“Twenty-two,” she said thickly. “Forever.”
Ella laughed. It was a cold, humorless sound and there was a wealth of knowledge in those eyes. “No. He will not be twenty-two forever. His face may stay as young and handsome as he is now…just like I will forever be caught in this hideous child’s body. But the mind will continue to grow, he will live…learn. Although I do not know if I agree with your friend… Is this truly better than death?”
Rafe suspected he knew this unknown vampire’s answer to that question, at least for herself. She wished for death. He could taste her bitter anger and weariness in the air. Crouching down, he stared at Dominic’s face and whispered his name.
His lashes fluttered, but he stayed asleep. The gray cast of his skin bothered Rafe. Even from just a light feeding, with no bond, he should have had better color than that. Tapping the cool cheek, Rafe said, “Dominic,” louder, harsher, forcing power into his words as he spoke.
This time, the lashes lifted for a brief moment and Dominic muttered groggily, “Get the hell away.”
Rafe snorted. “Cocky bastard, isn’t he?” He knelt down and whispered, “Do you remember what happened to you?”
Setting back on his heels, he waited as those lashes lifted again, and the man on the bed glared up at him in cold fury. “Get the fuck away from me,” he rasped.
“I would say you do,” he murmured, thoughtfully. Damn, the fury that had flooded the newly Changed vampire at those words…it was almost choking, it hung so thick in the air.
Good.
Anger could help a man survive a good long while—long enough to get strong. “Do you want to get your pound of flesh…or should I say, pints of blood, back?”
“Not real. It’s a fucking dream, I’m sick and dreaming and none of this is happening,” Dominic snarled, fire leaping into his eyes.
Sympathy moved through Rafe, because behind that fire, was fear, shame, and loathing. Something bad had been done to him, and not just the taking of blood.
“You are sick. And I imagine you’ve had some unpleasant dreams, but the fact is, Dominic, this is happening. And you can either lie there and deny it, and get weaker and weaker, or you can let me help you. Once you’re strong, you can do something about it.”
Sheila watched from the shadows as Rafe took Dominic’s wrist and sank his teeth in. The rich musk of vampire blood filled the air, but it was…flat, somehow. Dominic truly was sick. Weak and sick. And madder than hell, from the fire shining in his eyes.
His face pinched with pain as Rafe fed for just the briefest of moments, and then Rafe used his fangs to tear his wrist open, holding it in front of Dominic’s mouth. Dominic turned away, his mouth twisting in a grimace. “No choice, kid. Not if you want to ever crawl out of this bed,” Rafe said flatly. “Not if you want their blood.”
After a long moment passed, Dominic reached up and curled his hand around Rafe’s wrist and for a second, Sheila thought he was going to refuse. But then the hunger flared in his eyes and he closed his mouth around Rafe’s wrist, his jaws working greedily as he fed, eyes narrowing to slits.
Something heavy and powerful moved through the air and Sheila watched as a glow began to pulse in Rafe’s eyes. She hadn’t seen this before. She’d never made another vampire, and all those she had met were older than she. This was the first time she’d ever seen a vampire feed another for something other than sex.
The power swelled to a crescendo and then like a water balloon thrown against a wall, it exploded, raining down on all of them. Dominic fell back from Rafe’s wrist, eyes closed, mouth slack.
“Rafe?” Sheila whispered, her voi
ce trembling.
He looked at her with hooded eyes. “He will be fine,” he said brusquely as he accepted a white square of cloth from Ella and pressed it to his sluggishly bleeding wrist. Robbie was bandaging the bloodied wound on Dominic’s wrist and Rafe watched closely, his face unreadable.
“He’ll need to feed when he wakes,” Rafe said softly. “Something other than vampire.”
“I’ll bring him something,” Sheila whispered, a hot, tight knot in her belly. Regret, anger…sadness? She didn’t know. There was no way to put a label on the emotions running through her right now.
“I can feed him.”
“Robbie, no.”
Sheila and Rafe both turned to watch the petite vampire stand in front of Robbie, one hand on his sternum, as she stared up at him. “You will not feed him.”
Robbie smiled down at Ella and patted her head, the way you would a small child, or a pet. Then he said softly, “I have to, Ella. The bad ones are too close. He needs to be strong. Witch blood is better than human blood.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper as he added, “He always said that.”
“He?” Sheila asked quietly, a frown puckering her forehead as she looked at Robbie. That fear again…it was hot and rancid inside Robbie, born of a torment suffered at the hands of somebody vile. She could feel his fear, all consuming, and she felt a wave of disgust at what had been done to them flow through her. What a man he could have been…strong, powerful in both magick and spirit. But he’d never be a complete man. So unfair.
Robbie nodded, his throat working as he swallowed. “Yes. The bad one. He fed from me, lots of times. Loved magick blood.” A grimace twisted his face and he muttered, “About the only good thing I can do right.”
“Now, Robbie, that’s not true,” Ella argued, shaking her head so that her silvery blonde hair floated around her shoulders. “You do a great many things well.”
He frowned and said, “Not without help. I’m stupid. Can’t do anything without you to remind me how. At least, this, I know I can do right. And I’m going to.”
The Hunters 6: Rafe and Sheila Page 6