Vampire's Faith (Dark Protectors Book 8)

by Rebecca Zanetti

  “Affirmative. Just watch what I do for now, and we’ll work on planes when we have a chance,” Benny said. “This is a modified helicopter. Humans don’t have access to anything like this, so rule number one is that if we go down, we blow the entire thing up.” He reached over and tapped the console in the middle of a dash. “Let’s reach out.”

  “To whom?”

  Benny clicked a couple of buttons, and a face came onto the screen.

  Ronan’s heart clenched. He didn’t know the younger vampire, but the broad forehead was familiar. Jacer had had that same hard ridge.

  The kid looked from one to the other of them. “Uncle Benny,” he murmured, his sizzling gray eyes curious. “We’re still watching the hospital in Denver per your request. Now, are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

  “I’m not your uncle,” Benny muttered into his headset. “My nephew Chalton isn’t related to you.”

  “Close enough,” the kid said easily, his gaze studying Ronan. “Who’s your friend? He looks…familiar.”

  Benny banked a hard left. “Fellow soldier. You can call him Ronan.” He glanced at Ronan. “This is Garrett. Kayrs.”

  Ronan swallowed and hid his emotions. This young soldier was what? His great-great-nephew? The visual proof that his bloodline had survived hit him harder than he would’ve imagined. He lowered his chin and studied the vamp. “Hi.”

  The kid gave a short nod and then looked back at Benny. “Why are we in Denver and why is it such a secret, Benny? I don’t like keeping secrets from family.”

  “You two were just screwing around in Vegas,” Benny said easily. “You jumped at the chance for an op.”

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t happy to help. I just said that I don’t like hiding anything from family. My dad would kick my ass and then yours. Twice.” Garrett didn’t seem overly concerned with the thought. “Why are we here and when are things going to get interesting?”

  The camera tilted and another face came into view. Black hair, world-wise green eyes. Demon and vampire features. “Hey, Uncle Benny.”

  Benny sighed. “I’m not your uncle, either. You didn’t even grow up with my nephew, Logan Kyllwood.”

  Logan grinned. “Meh. Family is family. We’re all suited up and ready to rumble, per your instructions.” Anticipation lit the young hybrid’s face, making him look even more dangerous. “What’s going on?”

  Kayrs and Kyllwood. These two were uncles to Hope, the Lock. Ronan studied them.

  Benny began to lower the craft. “We’ll be there in about ten minutes. Several squads of Kurjan soldiers are about to descend on the hospital, trying to take Grace Cooper out. She’s in a coma, and we have to get to her first.”

  “Who the hell is Grace Cooper?” Logan growled.

  “My mate’s sister,” Ronan said evenly, his blood beginning to settle for the battle ahead.

  Garrett’s gray gaze narrowed. “Why is this a secret? You could use Realm enforcements if the Kurjans have come out of hiding.”

  “I will explain everything once we have the woman,” Benny said. “There’s a lot going on, and I’d like for you two to be a part of it. But if you say one word to family, to anybody in the immortal world, your invite gets lost in the mail. You’re out before you’re in.”

  Garrett’s chin lifted. “I don’t like threats.”

  Ronan’s chest filled. The young Kayrs looked just like Jacer. He desperately wanted to get to know this blood relative of his. But after one look, he knew he couldn’t put another family member in jeopardy. He couldn’t subject either of these kids to the risk of becoming one of the Seven. “We’ve decided we don’t require your help beyond today, and we’d like you to keep that quiet.”

  Logan’s eyes burned a dark green. “I doubt we’ll be interested in anything that forces us to lie to family.”

  “No need to lie,” Benny said cheerfully as he set the helicopter down on the grass outside the hospital. “Just don’t say anything.”

  Garrett’s eyes widened on the screen. “Benny. You fucking landed on the grass.”

  “Yep.” Benny powered down the machine. “Just got an update. The Kurjans are five minutes out. Go time, boys.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Faith paced the stone floor as Ivar worked on the computers. How could Ronan get all bossy and assholish on her? When he returned, she’d give him hell. Pausing, she looked toward the elevator to the surface.

  “It’s programmed only for my hand or Benny’s,” Ivar said, typing away, his back broad and powerful. “Now Ronan’s too.”

  “Then program it for my hand, damn it.” She turned to face him, feeling like steam might be coming out her ears.

  He sighed and swung around in his chair. “You can’t leave.”

  She put her hands to her hips and glared at him. His dark blond hair curled over his ears, while his arctic blue eyes glowed. He looked like a Norseman with a kick—definitely a Viking vampire. “I can do as I please. You can’t be serious about kidnapping me.”

  He stretched his muscled arm across his wide chest. “I think it’s false imprisonment at this point. You came along willingly, so no kidnapping charge.”

  “You think this is funny?” she burst out, her hand clenching into a fist. How would the Viking like her idea of a practical joke? She could fill the entire place with glitter that would stick to his long hair for weeks.

  “Eh.” He gestured toward the vacant desk chair next to him. “Instead of pacing a track in my nice stone floor, why don’t you help? We’ll need the right medical equipment and supplies for your sister, and if you’d just type in a list, I’ll make sure we have what you need.”

  She eyed him and then moved forward, taking the same chair Ronan had put her in earlier. It took several minutes, but she finished the list and hit send on the email. Then she sat back. “This is what we’ll need.”

  He turned toward her, his gaze soft. “You love her very much.”

  “She’s my sister.” Faith settled back in the chair. “I promised I’d take care of her when our parents died.” She’d failed.

  “You are taking care of her,” Ivar said. “Tell me about her.”

  Faith blinked and swiveled her chair toward the immense Viking. Most people didn’t ask about Grace—afraid to bring up a painful subject. She smiled. “Grace is so insightful, and she truly likes people. They gravitate to her naturally.”

  Ivar smiled. “She sounds lovely.”

  “She is,” Faith said, leaning forward. “She’s a photographer who was working for the newspaper in Denver. It was a fun job to her, but she enjoyed outdoor photography.”

  “Someone who sees beauty,” Ivar murmured.

  “Exactly,” Faith said, warming to the big Viking. He really did understand people.

  He glanced to the side and read the screen before concentrating on Faith again. “How was Grace injured?”

  “Burglar attacked her,” Faith said, losing the warmth. She shivered.

  Ivar cocked his head to the side. “You sound…uncertain.”

  Man, he was insightful. And he invited confidence. “I just don’t know. She was dating a guy I didn’t like much, and I’ve always wondered.” She’d mentioned it to the police, but they hadn’t found anything. “It’s just a feeling. There was never any evidence that he hurt her.”

  “Where is he now?” Ivar asked, his gaze sharpening.

  “Denver,” she said. “He used to try to visit Grace, but I put a stop to that. So I assume he’s still in Denver.”

  Ivar nodded. “You should let Ronan take care of him. He will, you know.”

  There might not be anything to take care of. Faith frowned. “I don’t understand this ancient brotherhood thing you have going on.”

  He flashed a smile and spun around to his keyboard. “It’s hard to explain.”

  �
�Try anyway,” she muttered, looking up at the twinkling pink lights. The potential Keys. Whatever that meant.

  He typed again and then sat back, his gaze on the computer screen in front of him. “I assume you’ve seen Ronan’s back?”

  “The tattoo? Yes,” she said. “The detail is impressive.”

  Ivar snorted. “Detail. Man. You two need to talk and not just dance around each other.”

  She turned more fully toward him. “I don’t understand.”

  Ivar frowned and pivoted his chair to face her. “It’s not really my place to say. Except that what you’ve seen—no tattoo artist did that.”

  “What?” She tilted her head, truly trying to understand. “Ronan said something like that too, but how can a tattoo not be a tattoo?” she asked.

  “Good question. Maybe when the tattoo is bonded with bone and blood.” He glanced toward the screen again.

  “What the heck does that mean?”

  He typed with one hand and then turned back to her. “Forget everything you think you know, Dr. Cooper. You’re in the Stone Ages when it comes to physics and the human body. All humans are.”

  “Then enlighten me, Viking,” she murmured. “Speaking of which, you actually look like one.”

  “I am one. It’s not something that just goes away, even if the world does change. Although it has been too long since I laid siege to anything.” His grin softened the hard edges of his immortal face. “All right. Here it is: There’s a dimension, one only known to us, where the laws of physics are…different.”

  She narrowed her gaze. Was he messing with her? “The laws of physics are absolute.”

  He laughed then, the sound deep. “Ah. So cute. Humans.” Shaking his head, he turned back to the screen. “They’ve just arrived in Denver.” He watched for a moment, keeping his attention forward. “Even in this place, this dimension, blood and bone are everything. Especially blood, right? It takes oxygen to the brain. It feeds the heart. It can be transferred from one person to another. No blood…no life.”

  She shivered. “Okay. I’m with you so far.”

  “There’s a ritual performed only by the strongest warriors. One kept secret through the eons. One that protects them in battle.” His tone lowered to reverence. “When the rite is performed, when the blood is powerful and pure, it forges unimaginable strength. A shield…”

  Her mind flashed to Ronan’s tattoo. “The rib cage,” she whispered, straightening, her chest filling. “Those were his ribs. They form the shield.” How poetic.

  “Ja,” Ivar said, his accent slipping free for the first time. “We mixed our blood together, all seven of us, and we drank.”

  “You have it too?” she asked.

  For answer, he turned and pulled off his black shirt, revealing the same raised rib and shield marking across his entire back that Ronan had. “Yes. There’s more to it, of course…and I can tell you it hurt like hell. Thought I would be one of the ones to die.”

  She leaned back. “What?”

  He shrugged back into his shirt, his eyes blazing. “Only ten percent of us lived through the bonding.”

  Holy crap. Ten percent? “That’s a horrible survival rate,” she said, her mind reeling.

  “Yes. My brother and the others kept going, soldier after soldier, until seven of them lived. The shield.” He cleared his throat. “I replaced my brother after he passed on.”

  So many of them must’ve died trying. How was this possible? The marking on Ivar’s back proved his tale, but it still seemed crazy. “What could’ve been so important?”

  “The shield,” he said again. “To form the prison worlds, it took seven of us who were bonded in such a manner. Even so, we knew the shield would fail at some point, and we thought Ronan and Quade would perish when it did. We got that wrong.”

  Hopefully Quade had survived as Ronan had. “I’m glad you did.”

  “As am I. We five who remained were to protect earth and find the Keys to prepare for the day when the prison world shattered. We’ve tried.”

  Much of this still didn’t make any sense. “You made yourselves nearly invisible, even by immortal standards. Why be so secretive?”

  He paused. Then he shook his head. “You’ll have to ask Ronan that question.”

  She would. Definitely. And she’d get an answer this time. “Fine. You said three of the shield have died. How?” she asked.

  His gaze hardened. “Our chests and hearts are protected, and our spinal columns are like steel. But as with any power, there’s a weakness. Right below our chins, we can be decapitated, and the Cyst have the right weapon to do it.”

  “The Cyst killed your three shield members?”

  “Brothers,” Ivar said, his chin lifting. “We’re bonded in blood and bone. They killed my brothers.”

  She leaned forward. “Are you sure this really happened? It was a long time ago. Is it possible they have a different view of history?”

  His eyebrows rose. “Hell, no. Not a chance.”

  “Instead of going through all of this, why not just kill Ulric way back when? Even though Ronan isn’t at full speed yet, I’ve seen him fight. Seven of you going after one guy back then would’ve been unstoppable.”

  Ivar’s eyes glowed with an ancient wisdom. “I wish that were true. But Ulric perverted the ritual.”

  She gave a slight shake of her head. “So? Ronan said Ulric’s body was fortified. But why not cut off his head?” Then she winced. There was a sentence she’d never thought she’d say. What kind of a world had she entered? How was this all possible?

  Ivar tugged his T-shirt back into place. “He can’t be decapitated. His ritual was for him and him alone. He doesn’t have a brotherhood or a solid frame of support, Dr. Cooper. When I say perverted, I mean it. He sacrificed nearly one hundred of the Enhanced to gain his strength.”

  “He killed a hundred human women?” she asked, her voice hushed.

  A muscle ticked in Ivar’s jaw. “Yes. He imprisoned them, found the prison dimension, and conducted the ritual. Only he survived—by design. The bastard took the essence of those women, their blood and bones…and he forged them together within himself. He can’t be killed from the outside. There is no vulnerability. No weak spot.”

  From the outside. He couldn’t be killed…from the outside. She switched back into doctor mode. “Bone…and blood.”

  Ivar nodded. “You are smart, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” She ran through different scenarios, trying to put the pieces all together. “There’s something in the blood of the Keys. When he took the blood of the hundred…something happened? What?” She shook her head. “This is unbelievable.”

  “Yet you believe it,” Ivar said. “There’s enough science there that it seems possible. Even to you.” The emphasis had a bit of sarcasm to it.

  “I’m not sure.” Although an alternative explanation wasn’t coming to her. The tattoos. The fangs. These otherworldly men. Males. “Tell me the rest of it. Why three women? Three Keys.”

  “Enhanced women are their own species. You present as human, but your genes are slightly different, Doctor. One of the women he killed was a powerful seer. A prophet…one of the first. She poisoned her own blood, preparing to fight, but creating what would these days be called a plan B.”

  “Plan B?” Faith coughed. “Seriously. Plan B. With blood.”

  “Definitely with blood. Gertrude had triplet girls. Already powerful as toddlers. She infused each of them with altered blood, and together, they were able to set the poison free. The poison that Ulric ingested when he killed Gertrude.”

  This sounded like a freakin’ fairy tale. “You’re crazy.” Just how much of this had the Seven gotten wrong through the years? Was it possible the legend had grown far beyond what had really happened? How was a prison world even possible? How was another dimension really attainable? He
r temples started to hurt.

  Ivar breathed out. “Stop thinking so hard. Your brain will explode.”

  She blinked.

  He leaned back. “I’m just kidding. Brains can’t explode. Jeez.”

  Wonderful. A joking vampire. Just what she needed. “You’re trying to find the triplets?”

  “No. The trips are long gone. We’re trying to find descendants of each. A special woman—born whenever one is lost. We hope.”

  Wow. That was a lot of hope. “How will you know when you find one?”

  He sighed. “A couple of ways. Power has a signature. We can feel when a vampire is near, when a shifter is near, and so on. The Keys should have their own signature.”

  “Anything else?” A feeling wasn’t much to go on. Even for these rather superstitious creatures.

  He leaned over to the computer before her and quickly typed, igniting the screen. “Just this marking. It’s a birthmark, and the Keys all have it. Somewhere.” A file opened, and a drawing of a key-shaped birthmark came into view.

  Faith stopped breathing. The world felt like it held still, ending the constant spinning. Her focus narrowed and she studied the mark.

  “What?” Ivar asked.

  She swallowed over a lump in her throat. No way would she tell him. Not right now. This was impossible. “Nothing. It’s just odd. A birthmark that looks so ordinary.”

  “It’s anything but ordinary.” He tensed and then sat back. “They’re heading into the hospital.”

  She barely heard the words. The birthmark was as familiar to her as if it had been on her own body. But it wasn’t. The key was upside down and lightly twisted, but it had been on her sister’s upper chest, just beneath her clavicle, from the day she’d come into the world.

  Grace was one of the three Keys.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Ronan kept low and ran for the hospital side entrance, where Garrett and Logan waited. The power emanating from both was staggering, and pride nearly dropped him to his knees. His brother, Jacer, would be smiling down from wherever he was right now. Ronan held out a hand. “Ronan.”