The Beckett Vampire Trilogy: Midnight Wine, Lycan and Sanctuary

by Jan McDonald

  What was this? What the hell was the matter with her? This man, this charismatic stranger, had touched her mind somehow. Instinctively she closed her consciousness against him, not even knowing how she had done it.

  So, he thought, she has the powers, they’re weak, but she has them. Interesting. It had been a long time since he’d had such a worthy partner. He was going to enjoy her.

  “Do you see your son?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No, he’s not here.”

  Another sign. She could see through the gloom. Yes, he was going to enjoy this rare treat. He reached past her conscious mind, bypassing her naïve attempt at blocking him. Oh yes.

  He was excited by her, sensing in her the intensity that would match his own and something else in the Latent before him, something that always had the power to give him the ultimate pleasure. She hadn’t yet turned completely.

  And he was going to turn her.

  He put a glass down in front of her. It contained a clear liquid that threw off rainbows as the firelight reflected in it.

  “Thank you. What is it?”

  “A fruit liqueur from my homeland. Plum Brandy. A drink fit for a beautiful lady with jewels for eyes.”

  She flushed again. This was silly. She was no longer a young girl ready to be bowled over by strong drink and nauseating flattery. Nevertheless she felt herself warming inside. Something she’d not allowed herself to feel for a long time. Not even with Beckett.

  The thought of him twisted inside her like a knife. Beckett was a real man, she told herself. Nothing flamboyant or overdressed about him. What you saw is what you got with Beckett and there was no getting away from the fact that what she saw, she liked. She could love him if she allowed herself to. And that was the problem.

  She didn’t dare allow herself to fall in love with him. There was something wrong with her, something deep inside, something rotten. Something that slumbered but was ready to be roused to frenzy when the right button was pushed. Something that could so easily rage out of control. There was no way she would taint Beckett’s goodness with it. She would not allow herself to get any closer to him. He’d get over her.

  “You seem distracted. I have sent for Luke, he will be able to tell us if your son has been here tonight. Here he comes.” He beckoned. “Luke. Over here.”

  Andrei’s henchman strode over to them.

  “Luke, this lady is looking for her son. Can you help?”

  Kat described Nik to the men. Andrei’s expression remained unchanged.

  “He was here earlier, Ma’am. He left again. With a young lady.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. I’m very sure.”

  Kat looked despondent.

  “Well, there you are. Luke is seldom mistaken about who is and is not in the club. It’s why he’s paid so well. Eh, Luke?”

  Luke nodded deferentially to his employer.

  Andrei waved him away. “So, your son is not here. Perhaps you will allow me the honour of your company and I will try to take your mind off whatever terrible deed he is guilty of.” He smiled at her. “He’s young. Allow him some indiscretions.”

  Kat laughed. Suddenly she was relaxed and at ease. She felt good. It was easy to be in his company, there was something magnetic about him, compulsive. His charisma was obvious and she couldn’t deny him her eyes, her customary reticence melted in his compelling aura.

  She had no memory of the invitation or the acceptance but an hour later found herself heading for his penthouse above the club.

  He had his arm around her thin waist in the lift and she could feel his energy transferring itself to her. She’d been feeling low and depleted and now she felt as though she could conquer the unknown world; she couldn’t remember when she’d felt this good.

  The lift doors opened onto what looked like the entrance to a Gothic mansion. The walls were stone faced and the entrance to Andrei’s flat was a huge arch. The door itself was of heavy iron-studded timber but its iron ring handle was for effect only, the door opened electronically.

  The inner hallway entranced her; she’d been transported back in time to the Gothic era. The entire place had been constructed as a replica of the magnificence of those days.

  He led her through into the main room where a huge log fire blazed in a fireplace that would have accommodated her bathroom. The couches were antiques that had been brought over from Eastern Europe; they were priceless, as were the rest of the furnishings and decorations. The wealth was breath-taking.

  Andrei pulled her to him from behind as she stood in silence, trying to take it all in. She leaned her head back against his chest as he pushed her long hair to one side and nuzzled her neck, stroking her throat and whispering into her ear. He spoke to her in a Slavic tongue but she understood his every word and gave no thought to how that might be.

  “Close your eyes, Katerini. Close them and see the world with different sight. The world out there is ours, yours and mine and the rest of our kind. It is the way of nature that the strong will survive and the weak will eventually perish. Don’t waste tears weeping for what is inevitable; save them for the beauty that I can share with you. I can show you Angel Falls from the inside, the mysteries of the Amazon rainforest, the ice caps and the deserts, the sunset over Montego Bay and the sunrise above the Great Pyramid. I can teach you how to watch a flower open to the morning sun and close again to the moonlight. How to be the past, the present and the future.”

  His hands were on her shoulders and she could feel the overpowering rise of uncontrollable energy that she always felt when aroused, but with Andrei she had no fears. She had no doubt that her animalistic frenzy would be contained by his undeniable power.

  He felt her release the barrier between them and smiled into her hair. He kissed her neck softly, alternately kissing and caressing her throat, licking and tasting her with obvious relish. Her heart was pounding and she could feel the pressure of blood in her veins, she was aware of her pulse and gradually came alive to another beat. Slowly but surely she became aware of the blood flowing through Andrei. She could feel the beat of his heart, slow, so very slow.

  She stepped out of her dress and just for a moment she was conscious of her skeletal appearance.

  He appeared to read her instantly and turned her to him. He placed his finger at her throat and slowly ran it down to her navel.

  “This, too, will change,” he said. “You are beautiful Katerini. A beautiful and powerful vampire, you simply need to cast off this human form and wear the body you were born for. You have denied yourself for too long, going without the nourishment you need so badly, going without a man in your bed because no human could stand up to the power in you.”

  Fleeting memories of a man mopping his throat and bloody sheets flashed into her mind. He read her again.

  “He was not worthy of you; do not give him another thought. The answer to all of your problems is simple. You must turn, Katerini. Turn and become the beautiful and powerful creature that lays dormant inside you. Deny it no longer. Release it and be whole.”

  Kat could hear only truth in his words. She had to turn to survive. If not she would waste away and die, never tasting the fruits of her potential. She would give herself up to him completely and trust in his inherent power to take her where she belonged. Into a world where there was no fear, no guilt and no pain.

  “Yes,” she whispered. Then, silently, I’m so sorry, Beckett.

  Her thought was reflected in his consciousness and he frowned imperceptibly.

  He led her to a low couch in front of the blazing fireplace and gently guided her onto it. She watched as he opened an ancient cabinet and took out two crystal goblets that were once drunk from in the court of Louis the Fourteenth. Her anticipation was hard to contain but instinctively she knew that soon time would have no meaning.

  A bell rang, and Andrei opened an antique casket camouflaging the telephone that would have been so wrong in this ancient setting.

&nb
sp; “Yes,” he snapped, then after a few moments, “Deal with it. And don’t disturb me again.” He put the telephone back carefully.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “There has been a minor disturbance downstairs, a drunk trying to cause trouble. It’s of no consequence.”

  He moved over to a beautiful low marble table on which stood a crystal decanter that matched the goblets, and poured a vibrant green liquid that reflected the firelight like priceless emeralds. He placed a slotted silver spoon over one of the goblets on top of which rested a cube of sugar, then poured over it some more of the bright green liquid that shimmered and danced with emerald lights. In a small deft movement, he set light to the sugar cube which burned with a blue flame and dissolved as caramel into the drink. She was enchanted by the ritual with which he was so obviously familiar.

  He raised the goblet to her lips. “Absinthe. Drink, Katerini, drink to your soul that is imprisoned inside this body. Drink to your release.”

  The bitter liquid rested on her parted lips momentarily before she closed her eyes and swallowed. She could feel the fire, feel her potency, she felt truly alive for the first time ever.

  Andrei lifted the goblet away from her lips and took her hand. He led her through into a huge bedchamber filled with elegantly carved wood and gold. The massive, ancient oak bed draped with exquisite medieval tapestry dominated the room and he effortlessly picked her up and took her to it.

  She unbuttoned his black satin brocade tunic and pushed him backwards onto the opulent bedcovers. He let her remove his clothing, allowing her this much before he took control. The pleasure for him would be in the turning, but he’d allow her to believe in the fairy tale for a while longer.

  He had his hands in her hair and he pulled her head back by it until her eyes were locked in his.

  “Katerini, say goodbye to the illness and the longing. Say goodbye to the wasting away.”

  His mouth was hot on hers and she could taste the absinthe on his lips. His teeth were hard and sharp against her tongue and she could feel the movement as his canines were pushed downwards to become two shining white points of pleasure and pain.

  The dam burst in her then as the pent up emotions and energies of the past years fell away and she became almost feral in his arms. Unlike the last time she could feel his power containing the destructive potential inside her, twisting it, turning it inwards, amplifying the force that was already birthing there.

  Somewhere in the distance an animal cried out into the night and she was only vaguely aware that the scream was from her own tortured spirit finding its way out into the world.

  And she knew there was no going back.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Beckett had sat in his jeep outside Kat’s front door for an hour before starting the clapped-out engine. He drove around the corner and followed the road to the back of her house. He saw the cab drive away and followed it at a discreet distance. Wherever she was going he’d be there to keep her safe.

  He’d come to know her well over the past eighteen months and he knew she would go looking for Nik. He parked the Suzuki on the block next to the club and waited as he watched her talk to Luke, then after a few moments they were joined by Andrei. He watched as they went inside. He wanted to follow her into the club but knew also that she would be angry at him for following her at all, and she was driven to find Nik, he had to allow her that.

  There would be no reason for her to stay there if she hadn’t found Nik and if she had, Beckett guessed they would have much to talk about, but from what Kat had said, he’d been an angry young man when they’d parted.

  He made the decision to give her fifteen minutes and then go in after her. He had to know she was safe.

  Luke’s solid frame barred the doorway.

  “I’m sorry, sir, it’s members only I’m afraid.”

  “I’ve just come to collect a friend,” Beckett replied, advancing on Luke.

  “Are you a member, sir?”

  “No. Perhaps I could join? Let me in and I’ll gladly become a member.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Membership is by invitation only. You’ll need the sponsorship of an existing member or the management.”

  “Look, this is stupid; I only want to collect my friend.

  Luke’s face was impassive; he’d heard that line more times than he could count. He didn’t move.

  Beckett put his hand on the sturdy arm and tried to pass him but Luke grabbed his wrist and twisted it painfully. Beckett’s knee made contact with Luke’s groin and he regained his hand. Without looking backwards he was inside the club and standing at the door searching the gloom, searching the sea of faces, bombarded with the Goth anthems of Sisters of Mercy.

  The staircase at the opposite corner drew his eyes and he watched as the lift doors at the top closed behind Kat and Andrei, but not before he’d seen the arm around Kat’s tiny waist.

  “Kat! No! Wait!” yelled Beckett.

  His voice was drowned by the music. She hadn’t seen him.

  He pushed his way through the crowd that moved in what looked like an ancient tribal ritual. He was pushed back.

  “Hey, Bud. Cool it, yeah?”

  Beckett took stock of the young man with a slender, paste-white face, black eyeliner, ruby lips and black nail polish on his long tapered finger tips and decided to ignore him. He pushed forwards again.

  The crowd seemed to part and he was face to face with a bear of man dressed biker style. He had a leather band studded with spikes around his neck and similar ones around his wrists. The tattoo on his arm proclaimed him the ‘Devil’s Son’.

  Beckett swallowed hard; he was dog meat.

  Luke appeared behind him, perspiring from the insult to the delicate part of his anatomy, he looked more than a little pissed off.

  From other directions large men were approaching purposefully. It was no longer a question of making it to the staircase, more of a matter of keeping his skin. He was nothing if not realistic and, while he’d caught Luke off guard at the door, there was no way he would survive a scuffle with Satan’s Army. Retreat was out of the question; Luke was closing in behind him with a score to settle.

  The first punch was aimed low, one for one.

  The Devil’s Son had him in an arm lock that would tear his shoulder out of its socket with the slightest movement. The only way was back to the door. He was going to get thrown out in style.

  Luke didn’t move from his side, matching him step for step. He was breathing heavily and there was pure hatred in his eyes. Beckett could imagine what was coming next.

  He landed face first on the pavement and felt the skin part over his cheekbone and his lip split. Luke’s hands were on him like lightening, hauling him to his feet, one fist landed square in his left eye then pounded home under his chin. Beckett went down hard and Luke was on top of him pounding and pummelling his body.

  The streetlight above him faded in and out as consciousness came and went.

  Luke’s breathing was still coming hard and heavy, in direct relation to the pain in his groin. He gave Beckett a final savage kick and left him curled up in the gutter and out for the count.

  Searing pain brought him back to consciousness.

  “Ho. You still alive?” The pointed toe of an elegant black boot prodded him.

  Beckett opened his right eye. There would be no seeing out of his left for a while. Through the haze of pain he could just make out the face bending over him. It was the white faced, eye-linered Goth from inside the club.

  Beckett groaned.

  “Man, you must have pissed them off big time. Come on, you can’t lay there.”

  Beckett couldn’t think of any reason why not, it seemed infinitely preferable to the crescendo of pain that was involved in any form of movement. He scanned the twenty-something Goth in front of him, clad a la Blade, in an ankle length black leather coat covering the elegant frock coat he’d seen earlier, leather pants and knee length boots. Shoulder length blue-black hair that owed much to
a bottle, framed high cheekbones delicately painted white. His eyes were outlined with black kohl and they danced with what seemed to be entertainment.

  He tried to speak and realised for the first time that intelligible speech was almost impossible through his swollen lips.

  An arm was around him and pulling him into the vertical position before he could make any protest.

  “C’mon man, give me a hand here. You’ve got to get your ass moving. If Luke comes back, he’ll finish you off for sure. He’s a mean mother.”

  Beckett tended to concur with this character assessment and made an effort to stand under his own power. Pain rocketed through him, finally finding a home somewhere inside his head. Breathing was painful and he could feel movement in the rib that had last been in contact with Luke’s boot.

  His thoughts went past the pain as he remembered Kat. She was still in there and they were mighty keen to keep it that way. He had no option but to leave but, in true terminator fashion, he’d be back.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Andrei made love to her in the same languid fashion that he did everything else, his coolness dampening her aggression. There was no heat or passion as he toyed with her, teasing her to the point of no return then pulling away from her. He was driving her mad as the bestial side of her nature soared and dived. Her mouth was on his neck before she could stop herself and she bit hard into the flesh around his jugular.

  He gave a deep throaty laugh as the blood flowed towards her eager lips.

  She pulled away then, some far distant part of her mind horrified at what was taking place in the realms of deja vu. Andrei made a slow movement with his hand across his throat that somehow stopped the blood flow.

  “Not yet, Katerini.”