Blood Revolution (God Wars, #3)

by Suttle, Connie

  "What is the first law?"

  "Never kill your donor."

  I watched as Gavin stood and looked about him, taking stock of our surroundings. "Come quietly," he laid compulsion and held out a hand to pull me up. Was I about to tell him (again) that compulsion didn't work? Not on your life.

  Silently I followed Gavin as he strode determinedly toward the edge of the building. Then he turned to me. "I will not harm you," he said before gripping my upper arms in his hands. I almost snorted at his statement before gasping in surprise—he stepped off the edge of the building and floated us to the street below.

  We then began a swift trek toward the block where KingDom's had stood. Eventually, I realized we were heading toward a vehicle. Gavin had parked several blocks away, and I was grateful I wouldn't come in contact with anyone who might recognize me. I thought, too, about sending mindspeech to Bill again, but held back. I'd let him know eventually where I was, and why. Probably.

  Without a word, I climbed into Gavin's luxury rental car—there would be no economy class vehicle for this vampire. I jerked as his hands pulled the seatbelt around me and fastened it.

  "There is no need to be afraid," Gavin soothed. Did I stare at him in shock? Oh, yes.

  * * *

  "Bill, there's somebody outside who says he has information for you," Opal said. He's werewolf, she added silently to Bill and Jayson. I don't trust him.

  "Then bring him in," Bill said. Keep your weapons handy, he sent.

  Opal never blinked as Zach Tanner shouldered his way past her with a growl. He recognized the scent of a shapeshifter easily enough.

  "Your name?" Bill asked, leaning back on his chair to study the newcomer.

  "Zach Tanner," Zach grinned before firing the weapon that appeared suddenly in his hand. Zach was dead before Bill slammed against the wall behind him. Jayson stared at the nine millimeter in his hand with surprise.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  "Climb down ahead of me," Gavin ordered. The trap door was narrow and located inside a closet of the elegant, frame house in San Francisco. I put my foot on the first step, testing the wooden rung. It felt solid enough. I made my way downward carefully, Gavin right behind me.

  "Sit there," Gavin ordered, nodding toward a chair behind a tiny kitchen table. We stood in a small living area located across from a bathroom, which divided the two underground bedrooms. "I have a call to make," Gavin continued. "You will remain silent."

  I watched as he punched a number on his cell. The call was picked up quickly. "Gavin?" the voice asked. Wlodek. Oh, Lord.

  * * *

  "I always wear a vest when I'm on a project like this," Bill rubbed his chest where the bullet had slammed into him.

  "I'm just glad it worked," Hank examined the bruise forming over Bill's ribs. Hank had arrived seconds after Jayson killed Zach Tanner. They'd had to move to another corner of the room—agents were collecting evidence around the body.

  "I'll live," Bill reached for his shirt.

  "You'll be sore for a while. We can get you to a hospital, if you want."

  "I don't have time for that," Bill grumped. "Anything new on Breanne?"

  "No," Hank sighed. "I was hoping you'd heard something."

  "All I heard was sorry, Bill, before the building went down and a hundred people started wandering the street in a daze. Thanks, Jayson, by the way. You're pretty handy to have around," Bill complimented Jayson.

  "I'm still trying to come to terms with this," Jayson flopped onto a chair and blinked at Hank.

  "First time is always the hardest," Bill grunted as Hank searched ribs for any fractures. "Werewolves are tough to kill. Going for the head was a good idea."

  "What are you planning to do with the body after they collect evidence?" Opal asked. She'd gone through Zach's pockets initially, but found no identification. All he'd carried was a gun.

  "I'll contact the Grand Master in a minute, when Hank stops torturing me. Weldon may be able to confirm whether this really is Zach Tanner, or whether he was using an alias." Bill hissed as Hank poked another rib. "Either way, local wolves will come for the body."

  "May have a crack there," Hank pulled back. "Sure you don't want to see a doctor?"

  "Just wrap me up, I've had worse," Bill ordered.

  "You're the boss," Hank reached for an elastic bandage he'd filched from paramedics outside.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  "Is the investigation complete?" Wlodek asked immediately.

  "It appears so, Honored One," Gavin replied. I watched as Gavin moved about the small living area, placing folders and a laptop inside a case and zipping it up. "Keir Arthur and Oscar Forde are both dead, as are other vampires who attacked me."

  "Good. I will expect a full report upon your return."

  "I didn't accomplish this on my own," Gavin began.

  "How was it accomplished, then, and who assisted you?"

  "I have an apparent rogue vampire here with me now. I was attacked by more than thirty rogues, and this one was the only one who stepped in to help me. Honored One, this one is more than talented. This one has mindspeech and misting ability."

  "Do you have him under compulsion? Will he willingly cooperate with us or shall the Council decide his future?" Wlodek's voice was matter-of-fact as he considered my fate.

  "Honored One, she saved my life earlier. I would not have survived without her misting talent. Somehow, she managed to gather me inside her mist and transport me to safety. I believe the establishment was wired against intrusion, and it exploded behind us. You may be able to see images and human reports if you search the news outlets."

  "A female vampire." I heard tapping as Wlodek considered this new twist. "Unexpected," Wlodek went on. "Bring her to me. I will assess her talents and willingness to cooperate."

  "Of course, Honored One. If we move swiftly, we might make Chicago or New York tonight."

  "Do so," Wlodek instructed. "I look forward to seeing this one."

  "Come," Gavin ordered after terminating the call with the Head of the Vampire Council. He was already pulling a suitcase behind him and heading for the stairs.

  * * *

  "Are you hungry? You may speak," Gavin said half an hour after the plane was in the air.

  "Yes." I hunched my shoulders. I was thirsty, actually, but Gavin would know something wasn't right if I asked for water. I knew bagged blood was coming, and I did my best to quell the resulting gag reflex.

  Gavin rose from his seat opposite mine and went to the back of the jet. A bag of blood was in his hands when he returned. I reluctantly accepted it and twisted off the tubing at the top. Yes, I made a face as I drank about a third of my first dose of real blood.

  "You don't like it?" Gavin asked, accepting the bag.

  "I was a vegetarian," I shuddered, the salty taste of the blood still in my mouth.

  "Have you ever taken from a donor? Tell the truth," Gavin placed additional compulsion. I worried my lip in shock at the question.

  "No." I hung my head. "It was always that sort," I nodded toward the bag dangling from his fingers. I'd only drank blood substitute, but what else was I supposed to say? Blood substitute, where and when I was, hadn't been invented.

  Gavin softly cursed my sire again—in Italian.

  That night, in a safe house in New York, I slept in one of Gavin's shirts while my clothes went through the laundry. At least he didn't do heavy starch.

  * * *

  "Why are you here?" Ashe studied the one before him. He'd been commanded by a Shining One to take this one in and make sure he didn't leave until instructed to do so.

  "Because I hold sensitive information," Thurlow hung his head.

  * * *

  Lissa's Journal

  "Raona?" Corent stood in the doorway of my private study.

  "Corent?" This was a first—he never came to me, I always sought him out.

  "I wanted to speak with you about your sister."
/>
  "You met her?" I held a hand toward a guest chair, silently inviting Corent to sit. Here was more information—at least I hoped there was more.

  "Yes. We talked on several occasions. I bought ice cream for her in Casino City."

  "Thank goodness somebody was nice to her," I muttered, staring at the top of my desk. "What can I do for you? You never ask for anything," I lifted my eyes to my half-fae gardener again. He seemed troubled.

  "Before your return, Trevor and Kooper Griff knew Breanne quite well. She even worked with them for a time. They worried about her. Until they didn't."

  "What do you mean, until they didn't?" I blinked at Corent. His words didn't make any sense.

  "One day they remembered her perfectly, and cared about her. The next they did not. I went to see Trevor earlier. He has no recollection that he investigated Skel Hawer after he nearly killed Breanne."

  "Why do you think this is?" Fear—and concern—stole their way into my brain.

  "Why would anyone forget anything on a planet filled with vampires?" Corent asked softly.

  "It would have to be an old vampire to place compulsion on Trevor," I snorted.

  "Or a King Vampire."

  "I only know of four and they," I stopped.

  "Yes. I believe we have come to the same conclusion," Corent nodded. "And you may wish to ask how well Gavril's Karathian warlocks recall your sister as well." Corent rose to leave.

  "Why are you coming to me with this?" I asked.

  "Because I love your sister," he said simply and disappeared. Until that moment, I had no idea that Corent could fold space. Something had changed, and I suspected I could determine the cause easily if I just took a few moments to do so.

  Instead, I stood and sent mindspeech to Gavin.

  "Cara?" he appeared in my study almost immediately.

  "When did our son place compulsion on Trevor, Kooper and who knows who else, to make them forget Breanne?" I demanded.

  * * *

  "Colbi? Miss Wayde?"

  Colbi Wayde looked up as a woman in her late twenties approached her desk. "The guard let me in," the woman added. "I'm Janine Webster," she introduced herself. "I think we're sort of in the same boat, so I wanted to see if maybe we could work together a little."

  "On what?" Colbi's voice held a bit of frost as she considered giving the guard at the reception area a piece of her mind. He knew better than to allow a stranger to walk into her office.

  "On Hank Bell and Breanne Hayworth," Janine set a folded paper on Colbi's desk.

  "What's this?" Colbi tapped the paper with a well-manicured nail.

  "A restraining order," Janine said. "They say I've been stalking Hank and Breanne. That's a lie. That doesn't mean I don't know a few things about them," Janine whispered.

  "Really? You have information, yet you haven't been watching them?" One of Colbi's shapely eyebrows rose in speculation.

  "I said I didn't stalk them. I did watch them," Janine sniffed.

  "Right. What information do you have that might interest me?" Colbi snapped.

  "I saw Hank go into that building, just before it exploded," Janine said breathlessly. "I've seen Hank since then, but not her. She's disappeared."

  "Really? Hank Bell was there?"

  "With Jayson Rome," Janine nodded slowly.

  "What does Jayson Rome have to do with this?" Colbi's interest was growing.

  "Hank and Jayson have been friends for a long time. Jayson is supposed to have been Breanne Hayworth's fiancé before that book came out."

  "That can't be true," Colbi pulled a legal pad to her and began scribbling notes. "How do you know this?" Colbi asked, studying Janine's frown. "Wait, never mind," Colbi waved a hand. "Give me what you have."

  * * *

  "Your brother is dead," Wildrif wept. "I tried to warn him," he sniffled into his cell. "Zachariah shot Jennings, just as you ordered, but someone else shot your brother. Jennings was wearing a vest and is still alive."

  Wildrif listened carefully while Obediah Tanner began destroying everything within reach.

  * * *

  "Grand Master, I have a dead werewolf here," Bill informed Weldon Harper. "Likely a rogue, as he attempted to murder me before one of my agents killed him."

  "Do you have a name?"

  "We found no identification on the body, and the name he gave may not be his real identity."

  "Send a photograph, and I'll see if I can ID from this end."

  "Sending now," Bill forwarded a photograph he'd taken with his phone.

  "Zach Tanner," Weldon growled when the photo eventually came through. "Might have known."

  "You know him?" Bill was surprised the werewolf hadn't used an alias.

  "Not personally. Usually if anybody got close enough to ID that bastard, they ended up dead. Surprised you lived over it," Weldon observed.

  "Had a shifter with me and an agent quick with a shot. Wore a vest, too, or I'd be dead, just like you say," Bill explained.

  "Tanner was usually more careful than that," Weldon mused. "Doesn't matter—he's dead now. I'll send some of mine to your location, and they'll ship the body my way. We'll handle this."

  "I was hoping you would," Bill agreed. "Thanks for the help."

  * * *

  "Grand Master?" Winkler answered the call from Weldon immediately.

  "Zach Tanner just got killed in San Francisco. Tried to take Bill Jennings out, it seems, and one of Bill's agents killed Zach."

  "Obediah's gonna be pissed," Winkler pointed out.

  "That's why I'm calling you. To watch out for that bastard," Weldon said.

  "Weldon, you know Obediah's like a ghost. We haven't ever been able to pin anything on him."

  "Just the same, I'd have said Zach wouldn't have gone down, either, but that's not the case."

  "This doesn't make much sense. Do you know what happened?"

  "I only have sketchy information, and didn't want to ask too many questions."

  "Understood. I'll have my sources keep an eye on things in New Mexico."

  "Sounds good. Keep me informed," Weldon said. "Anything new on that investigation? Has the car been seen lately?"

  "Nope. Haven't seen it since Ace tried to tail it," Winkler said.

  "Lying low until you turn your attention elsewhere, maybe?" Weldon said.

  "Possibly. We're not going to let down our guard that easy, and now that Obediah might be on the rampage, we'll increase security."

  "Good. We don't need another incident like the one a few years back. Lissa isn't here to cover our asses this time."

  "No," Winkler sighed with regret. "We don't have Lissa this time."

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  The trip from New York to London took six hours. Gavin had prodded me onto the plane as quickly after sundown as we could make it to the airport. We were cutting it close, I knew, with the time difference. Gavin didn't comment when I closed my eyes and slept, although I kept a tight shield up to keep him from hearing my heartbeat.

  * * *

  May in London wasn't bad, although I knew daylight was coming quickly when we touched down. I think we broke a few rules and regulations getting the jet's door open and down the steps to a waiting limo equipped with dark windows.

  The driver was human and under compulsion to get us to a safe place. London traffic could be brutal, and there was no guarantee we'd make our destination without frying if we weren't in a car that might protect vampires from sunlight.

  "Drive," Gavin barked the moment we were in the vehicle with the doors closed. The poor man might have broken a few laws on the way, but we pulled into a circle drive set in front of a large manor house ten minutes before sunrise.

  Gavin pulled me from the back seat before I could squeal in surprise and ran me toward the front door. A very tall vampire waited there for us, and I read him briefly before being rushed past and into the house.

  Poor Rolfe had seen similar behavior too many times to make a comment, a
nd I wanted to weep for his fate in the future. I couldn't do that—I had no idea what effect my tears might have on vampires and had no desire to experiment.

  I was flung into a bedroom with metal coverings over windows on the second floor and ordered to go to bed and sleep by a swiftly moving Gavin. I then watched as he slammed the door in my face. Welcome to the UK, I sighed and let my shoulders droop.

  Chapter 9

  Breanne's Journal

  The first person I saw when I woke at sundown was Charles. I blinked stupidly at him, I know. He was kneeling beside my bed, arms crossed and leaning on crisp, white sheets with his face resting on his arms.

  "Awake?" he grinned. Charles isn't bad looking, by any stretch. He has light-brown hair, hazel eyes and a wonderful smile. I held back from reading him.

  "Yeah," I shoved hair away from my face.

  "If you'll get dressed, I'll drive you into London for a new wardrobe," Charles offered, standing quickly. "After Gavin places compulsion to mind your manners," he added.

  "It's really not necessary," I sat up in bed. I'd worn the same shirt Gavin lent me the night before to sleep in—he'd allowed me to use it as a sweater during the plane ride.

  "One should never argue with Gavin or the Honored One," Charles chided. "When you're presentable later, the Honored One wishes to see you."

  "Yeah. I suppose he does." I slid legs over the side of the bed and stood. "Do I have time for a shower?"

  "If you hurry. I'll grab a bag of blood for you while you clean up. Soap and towels are laid out already," he added.

  "Thanks," I said. "Which way?" I asked. I hadn't bothered to find the bathroom the night before; I'd just flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for several hours instead, before getting undressed for sleep.

  "Through that door," Charles pointed to the left. The room I'd been given had been used by Lissa—I knew that. It had sky-blue walls and white trim. Only the comforter, pillows and curtains had been updated, because the room was seldom used.

  "I'll be out in five," I said.

  "That should work," Charles whisked out of the room.

  * * *

  "I really hate this stuff," I eyed the bag of blood with distaste bordering on revulsion.