Blood Love (God Wars Book 4)

by Connie Suttle

  "Sweetheart, you're hyperventilating," Bill quickened his steps and held out a hand. I went to my knees, my body struggling to draw in air, my arms pulled tight across my chest.

  "I'll handle this," Hank shouldered his way through the crowd. His fingers touched my forehead and I was out.

  * * *

  "We upset her, that's why," Charles pointed out.

  "Not upset Bree," Chazi snapped.

  "Who the hell are you?" Jayson demanded. Chazi's eyes went strange. Jayson backed up a step.

  "Everybody calm down." Hank was tight muscles and controlled anger as he led Barrigar to his bedroom—Barrigar carried Breanne, who was still unconscious.

  "Trust me, you don't want to tangle with any of them," Hank growled at Jayson. "I think the warlock is considering turning you into a lizard."

  "Or worse," Stellan grumped.

  "Can he do that?" Jayson turned to Bill. Bill shrugged.

  "Stellan Starr is a fifth-level Karathian Warlock. A lizard would be simple for him to achieve," Graegar informed Jayson.

  "Good to know," Jayson breathed and backed away another step—from reptanoid and warlock.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  My shoulder was uncovered and cold while the rest of me felt deliciously warm. Barely conscious, I struggled to pull the cover over chilled skin.

  "Avilepha, my wings don't work that way." A chuckle accompanied the statement. Cracking my eyes open cautiously, I stared at Hank—in smaller Thifilathi. One wing cradled me below; the second covered me above. Except for the exposed shoulder. Focusing on what lay beyond Hank's head, I realized I blinked at the stars in a New Mexico night.

  "Hank, where are we?" I attempted to make myself smaller to fit all of me under the tip of his warm, buttery-soft leather wing.

  "On top of a mesa," he smiled down at me.

  "Where are your arms?"

  "Behind my head." They were—he lowered them to show me. "I've been holding you for hours while you slept, and decided to let my wings carry the burden for a few minutes while I stretched muscles. Of course you chose this moment to wake."

  "You're not going to yell?"

  "Bree, I know that frightens you. I will reserve my yelling for when it might do the most good—and you are better able to handle it."

  "Why are we on top of a mesa?"

  "Because Graegar and Barrigar wanted to speak with Kalenegar, and I didn't want any of that to disturb your rest. So I pulled you out of the house."

  "Do Larentii yell?"

  "Not per se, no. I believe it may have been more in the line of advice—and warnings."

  "Warnings?"

  "I know how he treated you while under the influence of a mind cloud. That undue influence is the only thing saving his ass and his power, in my opinion. He is more than contrite now, and is going overboard in his desire to protect you. I believe Graegar and Barrigar told him the same thing—to pace himself and not be a nuisance."

  "Hank, have you ever had energy sex?" That just popped out of my mouth—and out of the blue.

  "No. Have you?" A slow smile curved his lips—he knew what it was.

  "Yeah. You definitely need to get in on that."

  "I'll be happy to volunteer. If I understand correctly, the Larentii may include anyone in what they term the backwash of pleasure."

  "Well, we'll have to discuss that with them, I guess."

  "I suppose we will." Hank's smile widened.

  "Hank?"

  "What, love?"

  "I missed you."

  "Hala avilepha, you have no idea how much I missed you. We should go back now, before Kalenegar attempts to find us."

  "Great. Nothing like a grumpy Larentii," I muttered.

  * * *

  They were all waiting for us to return when Hank landed us in a huge kitchen. It was barely ten at night and we hadn't kept them up past their bedtime. At least I didn't think so.

  "We've been discussing Vernon Clark—without you," Trajan lifted an eyebrow at me. This was the original Trajan, who couldn't fold or move things with a thought. I couldn't tell him that awaited in the future, either. My life was complicated enough without adding the time factor to it, so I had to watch my steps—and my words—with Trajan, Bill and Gavin.

  "Any new leads?" Hank asked, setting me gently on the tiled floor.

  "We have rumors that he may have been in Silver City," Bill replied.

  "That means he's getting closer to the border," Hank nodded. "If the information is correct."

  "Rhett and Dalroy are sniffing out the lead right now—Gavin asked to have them assigned to the night shift," Bill said.

  "Rhett and Dalroy are vampires who often work for the Council," Gavin informed us. "They will contact me should they find anything."

  "Are we ready to go if we hear from them?" Opal pointed her gaze in my direction.

  "Yeah. I got some unplanned sleep, so I'm awake now," I said. "Hank may be pooped, though."

  "I am fine," Hank released a thin stream of smoke.

  "No problem, then," I tossed up my hands and moved away from him. As if on cue, Gavin's cellphone rang.

  "Gavin here," he answered curtly. I heard the conversation clearly, when the vampire on the other end said Vernon Clark might be in Tyrone, a small town south of Silver City.

  * * *

  "This must have been something in the day," Ross Gideon studied the interior of the abandoned mansion, built by Bertram Goodhue in the early 1900s. The town had been originally constructed with the intention of making it the most beautiful mining town in the world. The mines failed quickly, leaving abandoned Spanish-style mansions in its wake. The current town of Tyrone was located nearby.

  "This part is a ghost town, now," Rafe Reynolds offered Ross a wolfish grin.

  "You say your contact is meeting us here?" Ross asked.

  "That's what he said. He told us he had a lead on our target, but wanted to see us—and the money—first," Braden Reynolds echoed his brother's grin.

  "Did he indicate what kind of information he had?" Ross asked. "On Clark and Jayson Rome?"

  "Nothing on the Rome case. Knows a lot about the Clark thing, though," Rafe replied. "He should be here soon—just relax and wait."

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  "Gavin, we have him in our sights—he's heading to the old ghost town portion of Tyrone," the vampire reported over Gavin's cell. Kalenegar, who still hadn't spoken to me directly, transported all of us to a café in Tyrone to await further word from Gavin's contacts.

  "How many with him?" Gavin barked.

  "At least three others—that's all we can see through the van's windows."

  "They are unaware that you are following?"

  "Or they fail to care."

  "Any idea why they're visiting the ghost town portion so late at night?" Charles asked.

  "Charles, is that you?" the vampire asked.

  "I requested a little field time," Charles almost smiled. "How are you, Dalroy?"

  "The same. As is Rhett. We have no idea why our target is going to the old portion. Perhaps a meeting?"

  "That doesn't sound good," Bill muttered.

  "Can you meet us out here quickly? We have to stop our vehicle now and follow on foot. We're too close to the old mercantile building."

  "We'll be there shortly," Charles said. Gavin ended the call.

  "I will transport," Kalenegar said.

  "I will turn everybody to mist, first," I said. "That way you can set us down in that old building and nobody will notice."

  "I'll leave a replica of us here at the table, so nobody will know," Stellan offered. "Our likenesses will even engage in small talk and answer the waitress' questions appropriately," he added.

  "You can do that?" Opal stared at Stellan with respect.

  "Easily," Stellan nodded.

  "Do it," Bill said. "Now."

  * * *

  "This'll be easy. Probably the easiest thing we've done in a wh
ile," Shafer Priest, Vernon Clark's acting second-in-command grinned at Vernon. Vernon sat in the van's passenger seat while Shafer drove toward the old mercantile building in Tyrone's ghost town.

  Shafer's three sons—all half human, sat in the back, rifles loaded and lying across their laps. They couldn't turn but they were marksmen—their father, a werewolf—had taught them well.

  "Pruitt would have come with us, but his wife just had a kid. Wouldn't look right," Shafer swerved to miss a pothole in the graveled road.

  "You think we can hold this guy long enough to bleed Rome Enterprises for as much as we can get, and then kill him nice and slow?" Vernon grinned at Shafer.

  "Yeah. I hear Rome is pretty fond of this one. Plays a lot of golf with him. It was lucky his investigator is working another job, or we'd have to kill him right off."

  "Would it be a bad thing if we sent body parts of Bob Sullivan, private investigator, along with the ransom note for Ross Gideon?" Vernon laughed.

  "You know, you're right," Shafer acknowledged. "How much do we hurt Gideon before we send the note?"

  "Oh, we'll see," Vernon pulled a knife from the sheath strapped to his belt. "I sharpened this yesterday. I'd like to check the edge on it."

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  What the hell? Jayson sent mindspeech to all of us as Kal set our invisible collective mist on the floor of an old, Spanish-style building that once housed a department store.

  Ross Gideon—one of two people who'd turned my life into more hell than necessary, stood nearby with two werewolves. The wolves were brothers, and I felt Trajan's anger immediately. Why hadn't I given him mindspeech?

  Without any alternative, I lowered my shields and read Ross Gideon. He was confused; I could see that clearly. He also trusted the two with him—they'd worked for him before. He just didn't know they were werewolves, and he also didn't know they were connected to Vernon Clark. An obsession lay on the werewolves, too, but as usual, I couldn't get information on that.

  Jayson, I sent, Gideon doesn't know those two sold him out. He's about to be kidnapped and a ransom note will be given to your father before they kill him.

  I hate to save the old fucker's skin, Jayson growled.

  I feel the same, but I get the idea that Vernon's on the way, and he may have company, I returned.

  We have to do this, as much as I'd like to see Gideon squirm, Bill joined our silent conversation. These won't move until Vernon shows up, I think. Vernon will likely make a grand entrance, just to make Gideon scream. From what we've seen of Vernon's work, he likes that sort of thing.

  What about the vampires tailing them? I asked.

  They'll likely hold back until all the rats are in the trap, Hank offered.

  What's the plan, then? Opal asked.

  I want as many taken alive as possible, Bill said.

  Gotcha.

  * * *

  "Rhett, I smell werewolf," Dalroy said softly. The wind was in their favor, sending the scents of those exiting the van toward Dalroy and Rhett, while carrying sound away. The desert became cold at night and the winds came up. Dalroy was grateful for that piece of luck.

  "The others are human or half human, I think," Rhett informed his vampire sire.

  "Agreed. Want to wait until they get inside to run in after them?" Dalroy flashed a grin at Rhett.

  "Yeah. Sounds good."

  * * *

  "Calhoun, Vernon Clark is in danger," Wildrif spoke quickly into his cellphone. "I have had a vision and his death is coming—I feel it. I caught sight of two vampires in the vision before it was cut off. Too much of that is happening lately, and I have no explanation for it."

  "Where's Vernon?" Calhoun barked from his end of the conversation.

  "New Mexico. Tyrone. The old ghost town."

  "Never mind, I have it," Calhoun snapped before the call ended.

  * * *

  Hank's Journal

  I felt him before he arrived—he believed only vampires waited to endanger this enterprise. He was of the lesser gods; that wasn't difficult to discern.

  Maintain your mist, I instructed Breanne. I will assist the vampires outside. Another is coming to join these, and he is more dangerous than all the others.

  You're joking.

  Always skeptical, my Breanne. It was so difficult for her to trust. To believe anyone. Had I been in her place, I might feel exactly the same.

  No. Keep your shields up. Ask Stellan to place some as well. This one will detect his, not yours, and as he will not recognize the warlock's shields because yours will interfere with identification, he will be puzzled. That may give you enough time to pull Gideon into your mist and fold the hell away. Do this, Breanne. For me. The two vampires and I will take care of this crowd.

  Hank, she began, worry saturating her mindspeech.

  Bree, do this.

  All right, but you better be safe.

  I will be safe. I love you. I am skipping away from your mist to collect the vampires outside. Take Gideon. Go back to the café and allow Stellan to keep my image there at the table.

  Okay.

  That's my girl. I skipped away from Breanne's mist, aiming for two vampires outside.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  Hank didn't tell me what—or who—he felt coming. That worried me. Actually, it terrified me. It seemed, too, that he'd become more formal in his speech patterns once I learned he was High Demon. Sure, he still sounded like Hank at times, but it was almost as if he were letting some disguise slide away.

  Shoving away those thoughts, I focused on what he'd asked me to do. Stellan, I sent, can you put up a shield around us? Hank says it'll confuse our targets.

  Putting up shields now, Stellan immediately obliged.

  Now it was a waiting game.

  Chapter 8

  Breanne's Journal

  So many things happened at once, and I almost lost the opportunity to pull asshole writer Ross Gideon away when the power surge hit the building with a resounding boom. The building shook on its foundation and I screamed mentally at the shock of it before coming back to reality and snatching Ross Gideon away.

  Yes, I wanted to stay and make sure Hank was safe. I couldn't. I did as he asked and folded the hell back to the café, Ross Gideon squirming in my mist.

  * * *

  Hank's Journal

  You will take the others, I will handle the power wielder, I instructed the vampires. Rhett and Dalroy stared, how could they not? I appeared in my smaller Thifilathi and laid a god's version of compulsion.

  When I set you down inside, take the werewolves first, I added. I will neutralize the weapons as quickly as possible. Once you have finished with your assignment, take your vehicle and meet Gavin at the Tyrone Café.

  I watched with them as Vernon Clark and four others entered the building. Bill wanted them taken alive, but they were too dangerous. Breanne would know they carried obsessions, just as I now did. I'd learned much from her when I'd pulled information away with our first kiss. Only her most powerful mates might accomplish that, and two others besides me held her heart and the talent to do it.

  When the god came close and hit the building with a precursor of his power and a loud boom, I folded the vampires inside the building.

  * * *

  Abort your mission, you fool! Acrimus shouted mindspeech at Calhoun. You are in more danger than Vernon Clark. He is expendable and easily replaced. Turn back now. I command it!

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  "Gideon, I'd like to take you apart right here," Bill hissed in Ross' face. The fact that Bill held Ross' jacket collar in his fist didn't help matters much—at least from Ross' perspective. Jayson stood beside Bill, and I knew he wanted to disassemble the quaking author as well.

  "Director Jennings?" Ross almost stuttered as he gazed into Bill's angry eyes.

  "Yes, fucking Director Jennings," Bill snarled. "Do you have any idea what we saved you from?"
<
br />   "Wh-what?" Ross did stutter that time.

  "Vernon Clark was about to walk into that building, bringing four armed men with him," Bill said. "You were a dead man, right after they got as much ransom money as they could from Rome Sr. Vernon Clark likes to flay his victims, did you know that?"

  "What?" Ross attempted to pull away. If Kalenegar hadn't shielded us, the café patrons would have seen (and heard) our little party, instead of the illusion of us still sitting at a long, back table.

  "We found evidence that he likes to practice taxidermy, and not all of it was on animals," Opal stepped up.

  "Oh, my God," Ross started shaking harder.

  "Your bodyguards have worked with Mr. Clark in the past," I said.

  "Who the hell are you?" Ross turned in my direction. Yes, I was still in disguise. He had no idea who I might be.

  "It doesn't matter who she is," Bill jerked Ross' attention back to him. "She saved your fucking life—that's all you need to know."

  "Look, I was only trying to get information on the youngest Rome boy," Ross whined.

  "Sure you were," Jayson broke in. "The old man sent you right out to hunt him down, shortly after he was fired." Jayson, still looking like Matt Michaels, crossed arms over his chest.

  "Look, he was worried about the kid," Ross insisted. "And he was pissed that Clark likely had something to do with the kid's disappearance."

  "And he didn't like that Vernon was calling him a liar," Bill said. "Vernon claimed Breanne Hayworth was a hoax, and Rome didn't like it. Did he?"

  "Hell, I didn't like it. You have no idea what I had to go through to get that research."

  "You have no idea what Breanne Hayworth went through, so you could have a best-seller." Bill tossed Ross Gideon backward. Trajan reached out and caught him before he fell.

  "Look, I didn't feel good about that," Ross claimed as Trajan (not gently) set him upright. "Just like Rome had second thoughts when the kid disappeared."

  "It amazes me that you're calling a thirty-year-old a kid," Jayson growled. "And the old man doesn't feel, so don't give me that bullshit."

  "Who the hell are you?" Ross asked again.

  "Somebody who wants to punch you in the face," Jayson said.

  "Jayson, hold off on that for now, and you'll have to wait in line anyway," Bill said. "Look, we need to take our seats and pretend we were here all along. We'll act friendly until Hank gets back, and then we'll leave. I think I can find something to charge Mr. Gideon with so we can hold him for a while. We don't need to worry about his ass. We've got enough to worry over, trying to keep our own safe."