Chasing Shadows (A Shadow Chronicles Novel)

by Christina Moore

  As he spoke, a figure appeared in the open hatchway of the plane, and I felt my spine stiffen for the second time that morning.

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  Eleven

  Diarmid Mackenna, dressed as always in a crisp, custom-tailored—and no doubt outrageously expensive—Italian suit, descended the steps of his plane slowly, his gaze never wavering from the five of us. As he came closer, I was not blind to the widening of his eyes nor the flare of his nostrils. Whether he was reacting to the presence of the shapeshifters, Mark’s scent—or both—I could not tell. His expression, as always, was a calculated and unreadable mask.

  He stepped directly up to me and placed his hands on my shoulders, kissing first my left cheek and then my right, as if there were not a hundred eighty-four years of discord between us.

  “My darling Mida,” he said lightly as he stepped back, his eyes roaming over my companions. “I am so pleased you have consented to undertake this task for me. Will you not introduce me to your friends?”

  It took some willpower, but I did not protest his use of the nickname he had given me long ago. His enormous ego had led him to naming me after himself when I was born—my birth name was Diarmida, and he had for the first fifty years of my life addressed me affectionately as Mida. Despite the fact that I had changed my name when I left (after searching for a new name, I found Saphrona on a census listing and adopted my mother’s name, Clare Percy, to go along with it) I could not break him of the habit no matter how hard I tried. In this situation, for the sake of maintaining peace, I left it alone.

  I cleared my throat and reached for Mark’s hand. “Diarmid, this is Mark Singleton. We have just recently bonded. This young lady is his sister, Juliette, and her friend, Jake Anderson.”

  Diarmid extended a hand to Mark, who shook it firmly. “I am most pleased to meet you, my son,” he said cordially. “It gladdens my heart to know that Mida has found her true love at last—and how fascinating that you should be one of the rarest and most precious of supernatural beings.”

  As Mark acknowledged him politely, not even addressing being called “son,” I wondered how he could possibly know just from smelling Mark that he was an immortal human, when Lochlan had not known. Then I recalled the admission my brother had made about our father’s former addiction to dhunphyr blood. Of course Diarmid would know just by his scent, if he’d spent a year’s time creating and killing them. I could tell by the slight twitching of the tendons in his neck that my father was either fighting the urge to lean in for a good, long sniff, or the likely stronger urge to lean in and help himself to a taste of Mark. I took a step forward then. “I have recently learned, in the course of my investigation, a disturbing truth about dhunphyr.”

  Diarmid looked at me. “Ah, my poor child. How I hoped you would not learn of such dark tidings as those. I would so like to have spared you,” he said with a sigh. “No doubt you are wondering, because of that which you have so recently learned, whether or not your young lover will exist forever by your side.”

  And whether or not your previous addiction will make you want to attack him yourself, I thought.

  Aloud, I said, “That is true. As my inquiries led me to the rumor that Vivian Drake’s next novel will prominently feature his kind, I am naturally curious as to whether or not Mark is truly immortal. My ability to sense other supernatural creatures tells me he is, but because of that awful truth about dhunphyr blood coming to light… Well, you can understand why I have come to question it.”

  “So you seek also assurance from this psychic we are going to see, as well as a lead to Ms. Drake’s source?” the elder vampire queried.

  I nodded. “Diarmid… Father,” I said, hoping that my use of the title did not sound as if I’d had to force it out, which I had, and that it pleased him enough to do as I asked.

  He looked at me with his brows raised. “Yes, child?”

  “You are a very influential man in our world,” I said slowly. “And you have a history with Mark’s kind. You know what danger he is in from our people because of what he is, whether he is truly immortal or not.”

  “Indeed,” he agreed with a nod. “I do hope for your sake that no harm ever comes to him.”

  “That’s precisely what I am getting at,” I went on and swallowed, hardly believing I was about to do this: I had not had the nerve to ask him myself for the use of his private plane, but I was forcing myself to ask him for something much more valuable—

  —protection for Mark.

  “I am grateful for the restraint both you and Lochlan have shown in regard to Mark—even I am not immune to the powerful urges his unique scent stirs in us. But others of our kind may not be as understanding of the fact that he and I are bonded.”

  He crossed his hands in front of him, and said, “What is it you want of me, Mida?”

  I took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I would very much appreciate your putting the word out that he is not to be harmed. I know that you and I are at odds with each other and that because of that I have no right to ask you for anything, but I am hoping there still remains enough love for me that you would take into consideration what effect his death would have on my well being.”

  There, I’d done it. Something I had prayed to God I would never have to do: humbling myself (in front of witnesses, no less) before a man I had sworn to loath for all eternity, asking him for his help.

  But it was something that had to be done, for I had reluctantly admitted to myself after the theater incident that I was not going to be able to be with Mark every second of every day. It simply wasn’t feasible. And for those times when he was alone in a world populated with beings who would not think twice about killing him, I would do whatever was necessary and in my power to do in order to keep him safe.

  Even if in the process of that I had to do a little boot licking. Because this wasn’t just about me, it was about Mark. Vampire law said that bondmates were safe from unjustified killing, but given Mark’s true nature…

  As I’d said, there was no guarantee our pair-bond would keep him safe. I was determined to see that he was.

  Diarmid studied me for a moment, and then he reached forward and put his hands on my shoulders again. “My daughter, I would have done it even had you not asked it of me,” he said at last, leaning forward to kiss my brow. “I imagine it is also why this young lady and her companion are here with us today, to see to that very thing. In any case, darling Mida, I will make sure all my associates pass the word that any harm that comes to him will be met with the most severe of consequences.”

  My body released some of the tension it had filled with upon seeing my father for the first time in nearly two years. I was glad that he had not denied Juliette or Jake permission to accompany us—or for that matter, that he had not attacked them, or Mark, outright. I begrudgingly gave him credit for his self-control, for I knew he had a deep dislike of shapeshifters, not to mention had once had an addiction to dhunphyr blood. That he did neither of the things I had expected him to do said something to me, in that he at least knew when to restrain himself.

  I nodded to Diarmid’s words, and then he turned and led us all up and into the plane. The flight attendant, a very attractive human female, raised an eyebrow at Juliette and I, regarding us disdainfully, and favored both Jake and Mark with a smile and long, appreciative stares. But a sharp look from Diarmid had her scurrying to close the hatch behind us and report to the pilots that we were all aboard and ready to take off.

  Because he sometimes had to fly with a human crew (like today) and often entertained human guests on this plane in his guise as a corporate mogul, the galley was well stocked with food and drink for those of us who consumed regular food. As soon as the tower had cleared us and we were in the air the flight attendant offered everyone refreshments, and it was then that I realized we could have waited until we’d boarded to eat, then dismissed the thought with a shrug. Too late to worry about that now, I thought. Mark, Juliette, and Jake all asked for oran
ge juice, and as she went to retrieve it, I leaned across the aisle to Lochlan, saying softly, “What if you or Diarmid requires blood on the flight there or the one back? Does he have any on board?”

  My father, who sat across from Lochlan adjacent to Mark and I, chuckled and looked over. “My dear Mida… How sweet that you are thinking of us. But you’ve no need to be concerned—Gail is one of my vessels. She will service Lochlan and I should the need arise.”

  I tried to stop my distaste for the practice of keeping vessels from showing in my expression, and said as carefully as I could, “Surely she does not have the capacity to serve both of you? Does that not risk injury or death?”

  Gail returned and passed out the drinks, then crossed back through the cabin to the forward end of the plane, where the galley and the crew rest area were.

  “You may have a point, my dear. I would not want to damage her, and she is not yet ready to be changed,” Diarmid said mildly. I refrained from asking him what he had meant with his last comment.

  My father shrugged. “One of us will just have to feed on one of the flight crew.”

  I heard Jake choke on his orange juice, and looked over to where he and Juliette sat across from each other at the tiny table. I hoped that however strong his dislike for vampires was, he remembered that he was here for one purpose only, and that was guarding Mark. I also hoped that Diarmid followed through on his promise and made sure our local vampire community understood that Mark was off limits no matter how tempted they were, so that the need for guards became unnecessary. I knew it could not be easy for the malamute shifter to be here fraternizing with his enemies, nor for Mark to accept the fact that a United States Marine required protection.

  With a sigh, I sat back and laid my head on Mark’s shoulder. He raised his arm so that I could nestle underneath it, then wrapped it around my shoulders after kissing my brow. We were scheduled to arrive at the Galway Airport in Galway, Ireland in just under seven hours, and although I had had enough of Mark’s blood to keep me awake all day, I found myself drifting in and out of sleep. The bits and pieces of conversation I picked up were mostly from Loch, Diarmid, and Mark—my father was asking him questions about his life, no doubt to discern how he had managed to remain hidden for so long. Mark told him the truth about the night he was born, and Juliette confirmed his story.

  As the conversation went on, I learned for the first time what Mark’s military rank was. He was, he said, one of the youngest First Sergeants in his pay grade of E8, as usually an enlisted man had to serve at least fifteen years before he achieved that rank; Mark had done it in eleven. One of his promotions had occurred during an early tour in Iraq when his unit had been ambushed by insurgents, and he’d been field promoted following the death of his platoon leader. When Diarmid had asked him why he had not become an officer, his reply was, “The enlisted man is the backbone of any military organization. I thought it was where I could do the most good.”

  Jake, apparently intrigued enough by the conversation to speak up, then asked him if he’d ever considered going back. Mark’s answer was much the same as the one he’d given me when I’d asked him why he wanted the job on my farm—that he’d spent enough time as government property and wanted to be his own for a while, though his superiors had said the door was always open for him to return. However, he went on, now that he and I had met and certain mysteries had been explained to him, the chances of that were slim to none, because he had a hard time imagining being away from me for months at a time.

  I woke up fully after about two hours of drifting in and out, and about that time, Diarmid and Lochlan decided they would rest until the plane landed at Galway. During the next five hours, the four of us remaining sat together at the table and watched a couple of movies to pass the time. When the second film had about half an hour left, the pilot made his announcement that we would be landing within moments. I moved to wake Lochlan, and when he was roused enough to be coherent, I asked him to make sure that he and Diarmid, when they fed, took Gail into the crew section of the plane so that the shapeshifters would be spared having to see it. He nodded and woke Diarmid, whispering my request in the older man’s ear, at which Diarmid smiled amusedly.

  At long last, at around 5:40 p.m. local time, we all filed out of the plane and walked into the airport, where we then had to wait to be cleared through Customs—and I thanked God Juliette, Jake, and Mark all had passports. Due to the amount of passenger traffic, however, it was still another hour before we were out of the airport itself and inside the limo Diarmid had ordered to be waiting for us in the pick-up lane.

  The six of us settled as comfortably as possible in the limo for the journey to an address on Glenavon Drive—it would take yet another hour to get there. I began to grow nervous as we traveled down R339 into Briarhill, wondering if this psychic was truly as talented as Lochlan’s contact had proclaimed her to be. I wondered if she would be willing to see us so late in the evening (Diarmid was unwilling to wait until tomorrow), if she would be able to answer our questions about Mark, and if she would see that I was the one who had written Vivian Drake’s books. If so, would she understand that blurting out that information could potentially cost me my life? So many questions, so few answers.

  I really hoped some of them, at least, would be answered soon.

  My nerves ratcheted up a notch when we arrived at the house where Alana O’Mara lived. Because of the ruse that this was primarily a fact-finding mission to locate Vivian Drake and her source, I was not surprised when Diarmid insisted on accompanying Mark and I into the house. Nor was I all that surprised when Juliette also insisted, as it was clear to everyone that neither she nor Jake trusted Diarmid as far as they could throw him. My father wore a bemused smile that grated even on my nerves as she instructed Jake to stay outside with Lochlan, but that she would give the usual signal if there was trouble of any kind.

  “Surely you do not expect the seer to threaten Mark,” Diarmid queried as she came toward us.

  “Not the seer, no,” Juliette replied blithely, waiting for Mark and I to take the lead, then following behind us a step or two ahead of Diarmid.

  Mark took my hand as we made our way up the sidewalk, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “If she’s genuine, no matter what she says, I want you to know that I love you. We’ll work it out somehow,” he told me in a whisper.

  My heart swelled with emotion and I nodded, and then we were on the porch and Mark was ringing the bell. A moment later the door was opened by a man in his fifties, a human, who glanced at us all with one eyebrow raised. To my surprise, he stood back to make way for us.

  “My mistress is expecting you,” he said.

  I wondered if Lochlan’s contact had called ahead to tell her we were coming, but I didn’t think so, for certainly he would have said he had. It was possible that they had simply been watching us from a window, but I was beginning to hope that this woman was the genuine article, as was the one who’d told me about when I would meet Mark all those years ago.

  After the four of us had stepped through the door, the man I assumed was a butler of sorts closed it behind us, then proceeded to lead us down the short entry hall and then into a sitting room. Alana O’Mara sat facing the fireplace, but when she stood and faced us I gasped.

  “It can’t be!”

  “Saphrona?” Mark asked, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder.

  Alana, who looked exactly like the psychic I had seen about a hundred and fifty years ago, smiled lightly and gestured for us to come in further.

  “I have been waiting for your return, Saphrona Percy. I knew this day would come. I see you have brought company.”

  I stepped tentatively closer. “But it can’t be you!” I protested in a breathless voice. “You should have died at least a hundred years ago!”

  She chuckled, and her laugh sounded like the tinkling of little ceramic bells. “One might say I should have died many thousands of years ago, child. Please, do come in and sit down.”

>   I took a seat at last on the couch she had vacated and she sat next to me, with Mark perched behind me on the arm. Alana took my hand as Juliette stood next to Mark and Diarmid moved to sit on the loveseat opposite from me. “You have many questions,” she said.

  “Well of course I do!” I exclaimed. “Ceridwen—Alana—whatever your name is… How are you still alive? I have the ability to sense the presence of supernatural beings and you don’t read as one. I feel nothing but human from you.”

  She smiled again. “Ah, Ceridwen… Interesting times we lived in when I was that person. As to how I live when you sense only humanity from me, it is because of my magic—Drake magic.”

  “Psychics and their sodding riddles,” Diarmid said with a sneer. “It is no small wonder why I do not employ one, as not one of you can speak clearly.”

  “A seer’s words are as clear as water to those who know how to listen, Diarmiud Mac Enna,” Alana countered serenely, pronouncing his name in the original Gaelic. That she knew his name seemed to surprise him a bit, but he recovered almost instantly.

  “If you really are the same person my daughter remembers, then she must have told you my name then,” he said.

  “I never spoke of you,” I told him, my eyes on the woman seated next to me. “I only wanted to know when my torment would end, when I would meet the man who haunted my dreams so that I would ache for him no more.”

  I squeezed the hand she had laid in mine lightly. “But what is Drake magic? I’m so confused right now that I can’t think straight—how is it that you’re alive?”

  She reached up and pulled a silver chain from beneath her blouse, on which hung the largest emerald I had ever seen—it was easily the size of a golf ball—held to the chain by a clawed foot with three toes. “This is called the Dragon’s Eye,” she said. “It is placed in the care of the eldest wyvern, or female dragon.” Her eyes met mine. “My people are called the Drake, and we have a powerful magic which allows us to hide our nature from others, as long as the Eye is safe with its keeper.”