Allegiance (The Penton Vampire Legacy)

by Susannah Sandlin

  Frank cocked his head and looked Matthias over again. “How have they made you feel?”

  “Like death itself.” Matthias walked to the table and held up his bag of blood. “I need this to live, yet it sickens me.” He lifted the dome of his tray to reveal a beautifully browned duck with a citrus glaze. “I crave this, its aroma taunts me, and yet I can’t eat it.”

  He threw the shiny dome at Frank’s smirking face. “So I repeat: what the hell is in those injections?”

  Frank looked at the floor, and when his gaze fell on Matthias again, it was . . . excited. The man was mad.

  “What if I told you that with one more injection, you will be able to eat again. And more, Matthias. You will be able to walk in sunlight.”

  Matthias sat in his chair again, stunned. He’d pinned the hopes for his future on a madman. “We are vampires, Frank. We don’t eat food. We don’t walk in sunlight.”

  “But what if after a series of simple injections and some temporary discomfort, we could be more? Have our immortality and strength, and yet be able to live among humans? Get our nourishment in whatever form we like—from the vein or from the plate? No longer worry about vaccinated blood? Aidan Murphy and his soldiers can’t offer our people a way to survive this pandemic vaccine crisis, but with this, the Tribunal can.”

  Matthias didn’t know how to respond to such a ridiculous speech, so he didn’t. He only knew he wasn’t going to accept another syringe full of Frank’s magic potion.

  Frank walked to the table and picked up the bag of blood. “Did you realize you’d been feeding on vaccinated blood for the past two days?”

  A chill stole across Matthias’s shoulder blades, turning his skin ice-cold. “That isn’t possible.”

  And yet he couldn’t help but think about his feeding for the past couple of days. The bags themselves had been opaque instead of clear; he’d attributed the change to the supplier. The blood had tasted more metallic, but he’d blamed the difference on his changing appetite.

  If what Frank said were true . . .

  “What have you done, Frank?”

  With growing wonder, he listened.

  CHAPTER 25

  Robin followed Nik into the community house Fen had called home since recuperating from the fire. He shared the space with Shawn and three other scathe members. Originally they’d thought Hannah might move there, but she’d latched onto Nik, and he didn’t seem to mind, so it was easier for her to stay at Mirren’s.

  “Don’t you feel kind of criminal doing this?” She watched as Nik picked the back-door lock with a deft hand, popping the dead bolt as if it were made of tin foil.

  “Not in extenuating circumstances, which these are.” Nik eased the door open. “Only vampires are living in this comm-house, so we’ve got a good couple of hours to look around.”

  The house was nothing like Chez Kincaid. The furnishings were similar, but the warmth was absent. Robin had always hated that bit about the “woman’s touch,” but maybe it was true. Glory had made that sterile house into a home; even Robin thought of it that way. Though some of the vampires who lived here were women, so maybe it was the human touch.

  “You know which room is his?”

  “I’m guessing the one with no personal belongings. Whatever he had with him from Atlanta probably burned in the fire.”

  Robin had been thinking about that fire. “Fen’s the one who got hurt. I mean, he was healed by the time he went through a daysleep, but if he set the fire, why would he go in to rescue Hannah?”

  Nik opened the middle room on the left and walked inside. “This is it. I recognize that hat.” A red-and-blue Atlanta Braves cap sat atop the dresser; Robin had seen Fen wear it as well.

  “As for your question, what better way to convince people you didn’t set a fire than to get hurt trying to put it out?” Nik said. “Besides that, we figure Cage was the target, not Hannah. My bet is that if Cage were the one trapped, Fen wouldn’t have gone in to save him.”

  “I guess. But there’s something else that doesn’t make sense.”

  Nik laughed. “There’s a lot that doesn’t make sense to me, but which thing in particular?”

  “You saw the jaguar in your vision, along with Fen. Where does the coyote that set the fire come in? You think Fen’s in league with two different shape-shifters?”

  “Don’t know. I’ve been thinking about that, too.” Nik began pulling out dresser drawers, so Robin joined him. All were empty but one, and it had only a few clothes. “Okay, I’m girding my mental loins; get ready to haul me out of here.”

  He picked up each garment, careful to fold it back the way he’d found it. “Nothing. Fen hasn’t been turned that long, and he’s traveled a lot. He might have met some shifters during his mercenary days, same way he met Cage.”

  What she really wondered was if Fen was still a mercenary. It might be worth a lot of money for a vampire to infiltrate his old buddy’s lair and sabotage it, maybe even kill someone who was getting too close to the truth.

  They spent the next hour searching Fen’s room and going back through the burned house as well, trying to find anything they’d missed.

  “We still have an hour until dusk.” Robin waited while Nik popped the back-door lock back into place. “Maybe we don’t start with asking questions about Fen. Maybe we start with Britta. Maybe we talk to Mark.” At least Mark was human and therefore, theoretically at least, awake.

  It took a fruitless trip to Aidan’s house, a call to the clinic where Mark kept an office, and a drive around town, but they finally spotted Mark’s small sedan parked in front of the Chow House.

  “Great, I’m hungry.” Robin had been wanting to come here, but this was her first chance. There always seemed to be crises to handle, psychics to rescue, vampires to seduce. Good times. But she’d had enough of Glory’s leftovers to figure the fresh-made thing had to be even better.

  Glory was packing up leftovers behind the counter when they entered. “Hey guys, you’re in time to grab some of this before I send it home with Mark. Most of it’s still hot.”

  “Whatcha got?” Robin looked over the red-and-white cardboard boxes, each with the name of the contents written on top in black ink. “How about the lasagna. Is it good?”

  Glory laughed. “Well, I think so. Here.” She handed her a heavy container the size of half a shoebox. “Eat whatever you want. And there are all kinds of sandwiches and some tortilla soup left.”

  Robin glanced around to locate Nik and was glad to see he’d joined Mark at the table in the corner. “You’re meeting Mirren when he wakes, right? What’s it like being, you know, tied to vampire hours?”

  Glory leaned on the counter, grinning at Robin with a knowing expression she didn’t much like. Big old Mirren was a big old gossip. At least the woman seemed to read Robin’s mood, because she cleared her throat and offered no editorial comments to go along with the grin.

  “It was hard at first because I wanted to stay up when he was up, and sleep when he was daysleeping, but it just wasn’t practical. First, who sleeps that long? I’d wander around the daysleep space, talking to myself for hours, bored out of my skull. And I missed seeing the sun, feeling it on my skin. I mean, I’m sorry he can’t enjoy it, but I can. Not gonna feel guilty about that. Besides, he says he can smell it on my skin and he likes that.”

  TMI. Robin didn’t want to think about Mirren Kincaid’s nose getting anywhere near her skin; she doubted that would ever happen unless her knuckle happened to collide with his face. Which, on second thought, might not be so far-fetched.

  “Cage is a good guy.” Glory raised an eyebrow, probably waiting to see if Robin was going to tell her to fuck off. But she was such a nice woman, Robin couldn’t help but forgive the fact that she never stopped talking. “Melissa wouldn’t have survived if he hadn’t rescued her from Matthias. Maybe none of us would’ve survived b
ecause, eventually, if he tortured her enough, Mel might have slipped up and told him something he could’ve used to find us.”

  Yeah, yeah, Robin had heard about the great rescue. “Cage has that whole Superman thing down, all right. He wants to save everybody.” Maybe she needed to have Nik tie her to a railroad trestle so he’d come running to rescue her for a change.

  Where the hell had that thought come from? She wanted to be the predator. Since when had she started daydreaming about being prey?

  “Well, if he has a savior complex, think of it this way.” Glory finished packing up the boxes and grabbed her purse from behind the counter. “You like the guy, and if he didn’t have that savior complex, he might be a different guy—one you didn’t like.”

  By the time Robin devised a comeback, Glory had already gotten in her car and driven back toward the house. “I just want him to save me,” she whispered, and then looked around to make sure no one had heard her.

  Damn, but she was acting too much like a girl. She needed to fucking get over herself.

  She grabbed the container of lasagna and a plastic fork and sat at the corner table next to Mark and across from Nik. She’d stuffed the second forkful of food into her mouth before she realized the tension level between the two men rested somewhere in the ozone.

  “What happ’n?” She might not have the best manners in the world, but her mom had taught her not to talk with her mouth full. Sometimes she forgot.

  Nik leaned back and scanned the big dining room, which was empty except for the three of them. “All that blood in the tunnel below the greenhouse? It was Britta’s. Cage and Mirren found her.”

  Suddenly, the pasta covered in thick red tomato sauce didn’t look so appealing. “She’s dead?”

  Mark shook his head. “No, but having your guts ripped open with a silver knife’s a hard thing to heal, even for a vampire. Krys is keeping her in one of the rooms at the clinic that’s still usable.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “They locked her in her room, and I understand it. I just have a hard time believing she’s in on any of this. The more I think about it, the more sure I am that she didn’t leave those drugs for me.”

  Robin thought of how easily Nik had gotten in the back door of the house they’d just scoped out. It made the possibility that someone had broken into the house more real, which meant Britta might not be guilty at all—just a victim. Maybe a scapegoat.

  “You got to know her pretty well?” she asked Mark. Britta had been feeding from him for a while, and although Robin still hadn’t had the experience of a real feeding, she’d felt enough to know it had to make two people close.

  “Yeah.” Mark took a sip of beer. “She’s a good kid. She got turned when she was twenty, about four or five years ago, and heard about Penton from some people in Atlanta—or heard about Aidan, rather.”

  “Is she friends with Fen Patrick?” Robin asked, wrinkling her nose at Nik giving her the look. It translated as information on Fen Patrick isn’t on Mark’s need-to-know list.

  “Not in a good way.” Mark smiled. “He kept coming on to her, and she thought he was a sleazebucket. Why? What does he have to do with it?”

  “Nothing—just thought I’d seen them together,” Robin said.

  Nik pulled Robin’s lasagna container across the table, and she handed him the plastic fork. He needed the nourishment. Using his Touch so often had given him a thin, strained look.

  “She came in at the same time as the blonde, right?” Robin asked. “Shawn something?”

  “Yeah, Shawn Nicholls, and . . . speak of the devil.” Mark forced a smile to his face. Robin looked up to see Shawn coming in, then leaned her head sideways to read Nik’s watch across the table. It was only 6:32 p.m. The vampire must’ve jumped out of her coffin and sprinted over here.

  “Hey, guys, mind if I join you?” She pulled out the chair next to Nik, not waiting for a response, and leaned over to look on the plate. “Lasagna. I’ve heard Glory really knows how to cook.”

  Robin started to suggest she take a box home with her and head out now, but she gritted her teeth instead. Hard to talk through gritted teeth. She really needed to develop better manners, or so Nik kept telling her. Besides, he liked Shawn. He was cracking a joke. He was making eye contact. He was batting those long dreamboat, Greek-playboy eyelashes at her. The woman would be a puddle of horny vampire in no time.

  He could do better. Robin would tell him later.

  “Could I interest any of you in a feed?” Shawn looked hopefully from Nik to Mark and back to Nik. He’d lost enough blood the last two days to feed a hundred vampires, so that wasn’t happening.

  “Sure,” Nik said. “Let’s do it.”

  Let’s do it? Who was this flirting cad, and what had he done with her best friend?

  “Maybe you can speak Greek to me.” Shawn had that kitten thing down.

  Speak Greek? Oh, please. Nik had been born in New Orleans. He knew enough Greek to pronounce souvlaki correctly at a restaurant. She was not feeling the love for Shawn Nicholls.

  Robin ignored Mark’s smirk and sat with her arms crossed, showing great restraint when Shawn bumped shoulders with Nik and reached out to cover his hand with hers.

  Nik flinched. Not an outright startled jump, but a definite flinch. He met Robin’s gaze and frowned, jerking his head slightly toward Shawn the Oblivious, who was chattering about some restaurant she visited while doing a study-abroad program in Athens.

  Nik interrupted Shawn but gave her a quick, reassuring smile. “Mark, can you give Robin a ride back to the house? I think Shawn and I are going somewhere more private.”

  Robin didn’t like this one bit. Something was wrong.

  Nik followed Shawn out but looked back at Robin before closing the door behind them. This look, she didn’t know how to interpret.

  Mark finished off his beer and turned to her. “You ready to go, or you want to find something else to eat?”

  “I’ll eat when I get back to the house.” She pushed her chair back and stood up. Maybe Nik’s look meant she needed to get hold of the lieutenants as soon as they surfaced for the evening and see if they could figure out what the whole Fen Patrick and jaguar thing meant. “I need to talk to Cage.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Cage couldn’t wait to get his hands on Fen Patrick. The bloody sonofabitch would wish he’d died back in Nicaragua or that his transition to vampire had been unsuccessful and his maker had left his dead, bloodless body in an alley.

  Cage didn’t approve of torture; he’d been on the receiving end of it in Paris, and Fen knew that. He knew it was something Cage could never do, nor would Cage expect it of anyone claiming to be his friend. Fen probably considered Cage’s willingness to give him the benefit of a doubt to be his insurance policy.

  Robin watched him from across the living room of Mirren’s community house. She looked worried. He struggled between going to allay her fears and rampaging into the night to find his traitorous, backstabbing acquaintance—but he finally chose peace, for whatever time he could steal it.

  When he sat on the floor next to her, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder. His anger didn’t dissipate, but he did take a deep breath and appreciate the comfort she offered. Who’d have thought his fierce little bird would turn out to have such a big heart?

  Aidan sat at the end of the sofa, one leg jostling up and down in a nervous twitch. Mirren sat in the adjacent chair, on the phone, filling in Will and Randa about the latest developments.

  But first, Robin had told them about her and Nik’s fishing expedition at the tunnel. Cage didn’t know what it meant—the images of the jaguar and of Fen and of that poor woman who had yet to regain consciousness. Guilty or innocent, nobody deserved to be brutalized in that way. Krys, Melissa, and Glory were with her now, trying to figure out how to help.

  But he k
new this: should it turn out that Fen Patrick had anything to do with what had been going on in Penton, he would kill the man. If it took the rest of his long vampire days, he would see him dead.

  “This isn’t your fault—you told them from the beginning that you didn’t really trust him.” Robin’s voice was whisper soft.

  “She’s right,” Aidan said, and Cage stifled a small smile at Robin’s surprised expression. From a whisper to a scream, all sound was the same to a vampire. “You had no way of knowing he was up to something. Hell, we still don’t know. We just need some answers.”

  Cage shook his head. “I knew that I never trusted him when he was human, mostly because he was cunning and treacherous and good at his job. And I know that becoming a vampire doesn’t make a lamb out of a lion—or a jaguar.”

  Aidan shrugged. “All I know is, we—” He turned to Mirren with a frown as the big guy finished his phone call and slammed the phone onto the end table. “What’s wrong? Is it Will?”

  Thunderclouds had nothing on Mirren’s expression. “Will’s fine, but seems we haven’t been keeping up with the news.”

  Cage rarely watched the news anymore. Over a long life, another war or another feud or another deadlocked American political system seemed like just so much empty drama. “What happened?”

  “Ten bombings, scattered around the country in ten cities.” He got up and began pacing. “Only one thing in common—all the buildings housed new blood banks containing unvaccinated donations. The media hasn’t put that piece of it together yet, but they probably will. The colonel figured it out and just briefed Will and Randa.”

  Bloody hell. “How many blood banks had been set up?”

  “That was it; they took out every goddamned one of them.” Aidan’s voice was hard and as cold as a fierce London winter. “Wiped out all the progress we’d made so far in a matter of seconds.”