Allegiance (The Penton Vampire Legacy)

by Susannah Sandlin

  Rob was a serious loss. Cage had met a lot of battle veterans but never one more able to fit in with anyone—vampire or human—so he couldn’t imagine Rob being the target. Besides, everybody in town had worked on the site at one time or another, so no one could’ve known he’d be there, standing at that place, at that time.

  The tableau at the construction site remained static during the somber business of death. Krys and Aidan wrapped Rob’s body in a heavy utility blanket from the back of Mirren’s Bronco, and Aidan gently carried him to the truck and placed his body in the back. They’d likely be taking him to the Penton Clinic, where the town’s minuscule morgue thankfully lay in the half of the building that still had electricity.

  The newcomer, Ashton—was that a first or last name?—had remained in her face-off with Mirren, although she’d taken a couple of steps back and kept her mouth shut while they moved Rob’s body. Cage was pretty sure she hadn’t moved away from Mirren out of fear. More likely, she wanted the ability to glare at him without craning her neck. Her fierce expression hadn’t relaxed one iota. This little spitfire soldier was like a mini-Slayer, and watching the two together would be worthy of an expensive ringside seat.

  Mirren Kincaid was six feet eight inches of muscle and bad attitude, and Cage would wager few had ever spoken to him the way the girl had. At least not and lived to tell about it.

  Cage glanced at Nik, who was biting his lower lip and not doing a very good job of hiding his own amusement, despite the fact that Aidan and Krys hadn’t even reached the bottom of the hill with their solemn cargo. “Is she always like this?”

  Nik gave a slow shake of the head. “Negative. Not at all.” He paused. “Sometimes she’s worse.”

  This time, Cage couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. “This is going to be fun, as long as we stay out of the way.”

  “I can fucking hear you, Reynolds.” Mirren growled at Cage over his shoulder, but kept his eyes pinned on the girl. Woman, Cage should say, although she was so diminutive next to the Scottish behemoth, it was hard not to see her as a waif. Probably accounted for her Mirren-like attitude. Short-man syndrome, so to speak.

  Mirren’s hands balled into fists, and if the man had still been human, his face would have turned about six ugly shades of pissed off. Cage couldn’t see the big guy’s face, but he’d bet those gray eyes had gone from thunderstorm to snowstorm.

  “The colonel has lost his fucking mind.” Mirren’s voice dropped about an octave. “What could you possibly do to help us here?”

  She propped her hands on her hips, gave Mirren a slow, sultry once-over with more than a little come-hither in her expression, and lowered her voice—but not so low that Cage couldn’t hear. “I can do things to you that are beyond your wildest dreams, vampire.”

  “Uh-oh,” Nik muttered under his breath. “She’s gonna blow.”

  If Cage hadn’t been afraid Mirren would turn his wrath on the nearest safe target—him, in other words—he would’ve explained to Nik that Mirren was showing uncharacteristic restraint, and if anyone was going to violently break the stalemate it would be the big guy. He figured the only reason Mirren had held his temper in check so far was that he’d gotten used to mouthy women. His mate, Glory, was a talker. She also wasn’t the least bit intimidated by her big vampire and, in fact, had him pretty well tamed. Cage would not be sharing that opinion with the Slayer, however.

  “Little girl, I suggest you walk back into whatever hole in the woods you crawled out of.” Mirren’s voice dropped even lower and softer. Funny how, on some people, a soft voice was more menacing than a shout. “In the morning, the colonel can reassign you to a more fitting place. I don’t care what you turn into—squirrel, otter . . .” He gave her a head-to-toe once-over and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Chipmunk.”

  Nik groaned and looked at the ground. “Oh man.”

  Ashton took a step toward Mirren, craning her neck again. “And where might that more fitting place be, Mirren Kincaid? Oh, don’t look surprised. I did my homework. Where is it you think I belong in this man’s army? On my back?”

  Mirren shrugged. “Probably, but don’t spread your legs on my account, honey.”

  The air around them crackled with tension, and even Cage thought Mirren had gone a step too far. He opened his mouth to suggest that Nik take Ashton far, far away for the evening and start fresh at dusk tomorrow, maybe with a referee. He froze at her expression, though. She was grinning, dark eyes alight with mirth and a look Cage recognized all too well. The undeniable, addictive power of the adrenaline rush. Ashton was having fun.

  Clearly, the woman was insane. She was suicidal. She was . . . superb.

  With a screech that would do a banshee proud, she ran at Mirren headfirst. If Cage hadn’t heard the man’s oof and been knocked off-balance himself when Mirren fell ass over teakettle, he’d have sworn he’d hallucinated the whole thing.

  “Told ya,” mumbled Nik, who’d stepped out of the way with nimble speed.

  A burst of pain erupted on Cage’s cheek, followed by the trickle of blood streaming toward his neck. Damn, but that little woman could throw a punch. Unfortunately, she was throwing them so hard and fast, she’d clocked him as well as Mirren.

  Cage rolled out of the line of fire and took the outstretched hand Nik offered. “That woman is barking mad.” Cage rubbed his jaw, amazed that Mirren was fending off blows but not striking back.

  Nik nodded. “As a hatter.”

  Finally, breathing hard from either fists or fury, or both, the woman stopped her assault. She sat astride Mirren, looking down at him with a frown. “Why the fuck won’t you fight back? Afraid of being beat by a sorority girl? It’s no fun if you don’t fight back.”

  Cage waited for it. The name-calling. Maybe a backhand to show Ashton what the Slayer was made of—which, even from his prone position, would send her flying. The lesson-teaching that was sure to follow.

  Instead, the choked noise Mirren uttered was one it took a moment for Cage to recognize because he’d never heard it from the man. Didn’t think it was possible. Mirren Kincaid was laughing.

  His voice even sounded different—lighter, amused. “What the hell are you, Ashton?”

  She climbed off him and rose to her full height, which wasn’t much. “Eagle shifter. And a damn good tracker. And stronger than you fang-faces can imagine. Plus, I can fly. So don’t fuckin’ mess with me.”

  Mirren rolled to his feet with surprising grace for a man his size and rubbed his face. The fingers he drew from his mouth were covered in blood from multiple scratches, and there appeared to be tooth marks along his jawline. “You got a first name?”

  Ashton squinted up at Mirren a few heartbeats. “It’s Robin.”

  An eagle named Robin. Bloody brilliant. Cage opened his mouth to comment but caught an elbow in the ribs from Nik, who gave a slight shake of his head.

  Right. Don’t tease the eagle about her name.

  Mirren seemed to have reached the same conclusion, since he bypassed any comment about ironic names. “Guess you’ll work out after all, Ashton. Gonna have to find a new place for you to crash, though. Since the colonel didn’t say you were a girl”—Cage saw Robin’s eyebrow take a dangerous spike at that, but Mirren was oblivious—“I’d planned to put you and Zorba in a room together.”

  “That’s fine.” Robin ran her fingers through her short, spiky hair, and Cage tracked the movement. Such delicate fingers in hands that held such power. “We sleep together half the time anyway.”

  “Aw, shit,” Nik huffed out under his breath. “I swear that woman has no filter.”

  Interesting. “And where do you sleep the other half of the time, little bird?”

  The words came out before Cage could stop them, which he instantly regretted. Talk about no filters; his were usually a mile high, but they seemed to have suddenly vaporized.
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  He’d been off Robin Ashton’s radar during her preoccupation with Mirren. Now, however, she stepped away from Mirren and looked at him. Really looked. Cage felt naked, as if she could see way more than he’d ever intended to share. When had he developed such a big mouth?

  “You asking me to sleep with you the rest of the time, vampire?”

  Oh yeah, Robin definitely had him on her radar. She edged past Mirren and approached Cage with a gait more feline than avian, and he was aware of Mirren crossing his arms over his chest, probably relieved to have her focused on someone else. “What’s your name, Brit Boy? You’re kind of pretty, and I’ve never done a vampire.”

  Cage opened his mouth to suggest she give doing him a try, and then closed it again. He had a feeling Robin Ashton could complicate his life way more than he wanted. And maybe kill him in the process. Plus, he was swearing off romantic entanglements. He still had one to wrangle his way out of.

  “Congratulations, Ashton.” Mirren suddenly seemed to be enjoying himself. “You managed to shut up our resident shrink, something no one else in Penton has ever been able to do. Cage Reynolds is his name, and I do think he’s afraid of you.”

  “Don’t be daft.” Cage’s bravado didn’t sound very convincing, even to himself. She did scare the hell out of him, and not for any reasons he cared to examine.

  “A shrink, huh? You’re interesting, Cage Reynolds.” Robin smiled at him—not the predatory show of teeth she’d given Mirren while threatening to eat him alive, but something almost sweet, a touch tentative. The edges of his mouth rose in an involuntary response.

  Shit. What was he doing? Whatever, it was time to stop. “If you and Nik are a couple, we shouldn’t have to change the living arrangements.”

  Awkward transition, but it broke the moment. Robin felt it, too, judging by her startled blink. “Right. We’re not . . . we’re just . . . convenient. Niko?” She frowned at something past Cage’s shoulder, and he looked behind him.

  Nik had left them to kneel next to the pile of bricks from the collapsed wall. He clutched one in his hand, his dark eyes looking at something a million miles away, not unlike the million-yard stare soldiers developed after too much combat.

  Mirren joined them, the three of them standing in a row like see-no-evil monkeys, watching Nik as he looked at . . . what?

  “Don’t tell me he’s a head case,” Mirren said. “What the hell’s wrong with him?”

  “Hush.” Robin’s voice was soft and her expression worried. “Give him a couple of minutes. The faster he does this, the less painful it is for him.”

  Whatever “it” was. But Cage had seen that kind of unfocused stare before, on the face of their little child vampire Hannah, when she was having one of her visions. If he had to guess, their new friend Nik might not be as much of a plain-vanilla human as he’d originally thought.

  God knows Robin Ashton wasn’t plain-vanilla anything—though her protectiveness of her “convenient” bedmate Nik was another sign of the sweetness he’d glimpsed earlier. They might not be a couple, but she cared about him. It showed in the softened lines of her face, the worry that darkened her eyes.

  A few more seconds passed before Nik began picking up bricks one at a time, holding each one for a few seconds and then tossing it aside. He still hadn’t spoken.

  Robin knelt next to him and looked over her shoulder. “Help us. He needs to touch as many of the bricks as he can. Don’t talk to him. Anybody got a sheet of paper and a pencil?”

  Cage glanced over at Mirren, who wore that uneasy expression he only got around Hannah. Mirren was all about what he could see and touch and punch the shit out of. Stuff like visions totally freaked him out. If anybody in Penton scared Mirren, it was little Hannah in the midst of a premonition.

  He flinched when Cage touched his arm. “I can help them here. Maybe you could check in with Aidan and Krys. On the off chance the colonel wants to talk security, you probably need to be there.” It was doubtful that Colonel Rick Thomas would want to do anything more tonight than mourn the loss of his son, but the possibility gave Mirren a graceful way out if things were about to get weird with Nik. Make that weirder. “You could probably take Nik’s SUV and we can walk back.”

  Mirren glanced down the hill at the vehicle, no doubt wondering whether he might get psychic germs from driving it. “Good thinking, but I’ll walk to the clinic and take Aidan and Krys home in the Bronco.”

  He didn’t waste time, his long legs eating up the distance down the hill before Cage could respond.

  With Mirren making his way north toward the clinic, Cage walked to the back side of the wall structure. Earlier he’d spotted the clipboard from the job site on the ground near the extra bricks, and, sure enough, there was a pen attached. He flipped the pages to turn blank sides up, clipped them back in, and handed it to Robin.

  “Thanks.” She touched Nik’s arm and held the clipboard in front of him. He nodded and tossed another brick aside.

  They worked another thirty minutes. Robin would hand a brick to Nik; he’d hold it for two seconds, or four, or half a minute, sometimes with his eyes closed. Then he’d hand the brick to Cage, who’d set it aside and wait for the next one while Nik took the clipboard and sketched furiously.

  Finally, Nik stared at the last sketch a few seconds before thrusting the clipboard at Robin, struggling to his feet and lurching behind the building. Where, by the sound of it, he was retching his guts out.

  “You need to help him?” Cage asked Robin. Whatever kind of abilities Nik had, he paid a physical price for them.

  “No, he’ll need to sleep it off. He hasn’t done this in a while.” She scooted next to Cage and held out the clipboard. “You might need more light to study these, but he gets images off things he touches—things that happened in the past. Here’s what he got from your bricks.”

  The top drawing was an amazing likeness of Max Jeffries, laughing. “This is Max,” Cage said, “the other Ranger living in Penton. Rob was his best mate.”

  Several drawings appeared to be from the brick manufacturer. Another one showed Mark, and another showed Rob himself, looking happy and very much alive. There was a scathe member Cage didn’t know well, but the guy was bonded to Mirren.

  He flipped to the last drawing, an image of a wild feline—a mountain lion, maybe, or a jaguar. There was no context, so it was hard to tell how large it was.

  He held it up to Robin. “What does this mean?”

  Before she could answer, Nik stepped back around the corner, looking like death’s last victim. “If you don’t recognize it, I’d say it means Penton has a shape-shifter you don’t know about.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Melissa sat hunched on the sofa of the community house she shared with Mirren and Glory—and, after tonight, a couple of new Ranger members from the Omega Force project. They needed people, especially feeders, but she was tired of new faces.

  The noise of a car engine reached her from the street, and she tugged back the ugly light-blocking black curtains that Will had installed in all the community houses. He claimed it was to prevent the vampires from frying in case any of them got stuck upstairs, away from the safe spaces, during daylight hours—but she’d overheard him assuring Mirren the fabric was both fireproof and bulletproof. So much for rebuilding without the shadow of danger hovering over them.

  The car passed without stopping; she recognized the driver as Shawn Nicholls, one of the vampires who’d come into Penton just before everything fell apart. Both Shawn and Britta Eriksen had been bonded to Will, but Melissa knew virtually nothing about them except that both she and Shawn fed from Glory because Mirren wouldn’t let another man near his mate.

  Damn it. There had been a time when no one moved to Penton without Melissa Calvert taking the time to invite them to lunch or introduce them around town so they’d feel at home. Aidan teased her about “snooping,” bu
t she’d always thought of it as friendly interrogation. She knew everybody, and everybody knew her. She had enjoyed being seen as a direct link to Aidan. She liked it that people would come to her in order to get an issue or problem in front of him. And she liked helping people settle into life in Penton, especially the new human familiars.

  She’d learned a lot about people in those lunches at the no-longer-standing Penton café, and she thought she’d been a big part of why Penton worked so well. People were friendly and open, and it started with her.

  No more lunches for her now. At least not unless they involved a vein at 3:00 a.m. She didn’t want to feel bitter about what had happened to her, but she didn’t know where she fit in anymore. She was no longer Aidan’s fam. No longer Krys’s daytime help at the clinic.

  No longer Mark’s wife, at least not technically.

  Where are they? Krys had called from the clinic to tell her about Mark’s injury and assure her it wasn’t life-threatening. Still, Melissa wanted to see him for herself. She knew him better than anyone; just by watching him get out of the car and walk to the community house across the street, she’d be able to tell where he hurt and how badly. She knew his facial expressions better than her own: the way he’d grit his teeth, suck in a breath, and turn his head to the side with his eyes closed if something hurt; the way his mouth would quirk up on the left side two times—never once, never more than twice—just before he burst into laughter.

  Old habits, and all that.

  From her perch, she could also see the community house at the head of Cotton Street. She’d know when Cage came home from the accident site and know that he, too, was safe. Melissa no longer took a single day for granted. She’d learned the hard way that monumental change could take place in a heartbeat.

  She thought she’d seen Cage earlier, but it had been Fen coming out of the house. He’d sat on the porch for a while, then walked down Cotton Street toward the old mill. She watched him until he turned the corner, and she thought about calling Aidan.