Illumination (The Penton Vampire Legacy Book 5)

by Susannah Sandlin

  Before, Aidan wouldn’t have chosen a room with only one exit.

  Before, he wouldn’t have stationed the human’s vampire master between himself and that single exit.

  Yet here they were.

  With a sigh, Nik extended his right hand across the table. “Let’s have it.”

  Terry Brach’s forehead wore a sheen of sweat like glaze on an undercooked cake. This guy had secrets. “I still don’t understand.”

  “Do it, or our meeting ends now.” Aidan’s tone brooked no argument.

  Brach settled a pale, damp palm against Nik’s, jumping like a cattle-prod recipient when Nik closed his fingers into a firm grasp. When the man tried to withdraw his hand, Nik gripped harder.

  Nik shuddered, closing his eyes at the onslaught of mental images. A cavernous room into whose walls Brach was attaching what looked like metal cages. Drugs and syringes heaped in boxes. Vampires feeding from Terry, all male, including one he recognized: a sworn enemy of Penton.

  “Stop it. Whatever you’re doing, just stop!” Brach jerked his hand away and shoved back his chair. “We’re trying to help Penton, to come and live alongside you. Fight with you if that’s what you need. If you don’t want us we can just as easily pledge ourselves to—”

  “What’s going on?” Marianne opened the door from the hallway, a vision of pale beauty wrapped in a red sweater and black leather coat too heavy for Atlanta, even in winter. “Terry, are you injured?” She turned to Aidan. “What have you done to him?”

  Aidan hadn’t moved. If Nik hadn’t known better, he’d interpret that stillness as cool confidence. But he knew better. Aidan was conserving his limited energy. He was vulnerable, and Nik wasn’t sure his own Army Ranger skills—human skills—were enough to protect both Aidan and himself if things went too far south. Not against another vampire and her familiar. Terry might get sweaty over having his past read, but the muscles that made his black sweater look like a sausage casing said he could put up a fight.

  “Tell us, Nik.” Aidan motioned Marianne to the chair next to her familiar. “Will our new friends be good additions to our community in Penton?”

  Nik felt the weight of Marianne’s will pressing against his, and looked at the wall just past her head. No way was he making eye contact. She was trying to control his mind, which shouldn’t be possible since he was blood-bonded to Aidan. Another sign of Aidan’s failing strength.

  Instead, he looked at Terry Brach, cocky and calm now that he had fanged backup. The hair on the back of Nik’s neck prickled. Those images he’d picked up told him something was very, very wrong but he’d have to explain to Aidan later. They needed to get out of here.

  “It looks promising, but I think we need to discuss it before making a decision,” he lied, pushing back his chair. He stood, arms hanging loosely at his sides, legs apart—a relaxed stance that left him filled with coils of energy ready to unleash if either Terry or Marianne made a move. “We’ll get back to you soon, but now we have another appointment elsewhere. Let’s go, Aidan.”

  Aidan frowned, but didn’t contradict the lie. He allowed Nik to nudge him toward the door and into the hallway. Nik glanced back to see Marianne twist in her chair to watch, but she made no move to stop them. The smile on her lips didn’t match the dark hatred in her eyes.

  Nik paused for a nanosecond. Front door, or back? Back led to the alley—a good spot for an ambush. Front led through the clinic lobby, and the clinic had been closed for hours. They’d have to break the lock or burst through the glass windows to get out. Nik’s gut told him to head to the front anyway; it would be least expected by anyone who might be watching.

  No more time to think.

  “C’mon.” He pulled Aidan toward the front lobby. “Hurry. Something’s off.”

  Aidan stumbled halfway down the hall, so Nik wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him upright and moving. They were about the same height and weight, but Aidan needed more help than Nik had realized. He was operating at half strength. Maybe less.

  And why were Marianne and her human not following?

  Nik spotted the trip wire an instant before walking into it. Using instincts honed on the deserts of Afghanistan—rusty, but intact—Nik threw himself and Aidan to the floor, using his jacket to cover their heads and give them meager protection from a blast that sent chunks of plaster and wood-chip missiles raining down. A crash of glass added to the chaos as the front windows burst outward.

  The explosive wasn’t a big one, but it was powerful enough to turn the front of the Buckhead Free Clinic into a starburst of jagged glass shards, concrete projectiles, and lung-choking dust and smoke. The rumbles were still echoing when Nik jerked Aidan to his feet with his left hand and shielded his eyes with his right. They had to move fast.

  “Protect your eyes,” he shouted. “Head right once we hit the street!”

  He used the cloud of smoke and debris as a shield, clamping his left hand around Aidan’s right arm and dragging him forward. If they waited until the dust settled, it would be too late. Alerted by the explosion, snipers would know they’d taken the front exit and be alert for any sign of movement.

  Nik had parked his white SUV a block to their left, on the other side of the alley’s exit. Through the cloud of smoke and dust, he saw figures silhouetted nearby. He didn’t wait to see who they were or if they were armed. Assume the worst; hope for the best.

  He pulled Aidan right. “Run, damn it!” He feared running might be beyond Aidan’s physical strength, but the vampire managed to keep a stumbling pace. Normally, Aidan could have outdistanced a human like Nik tenfold, but they’d passed normal a long time ago.

  They rounded the corner without stopping. Nik wanted to be out of view of the clinic’s front entrance. No one had expected them to run away from their only transportation, and those figures around Nik’s SUV meant their enemies had watched them arrive. He might not know those enemies’ names, but they were Tribunal operatives. No doubt about that. Frank Greisser never did his own dirty work.

  The shrill whoop-whoop-whoop of a siren sounded from a nearby block, joined within seconds by a chorus of others. The human first-responders were almost on-scene, their alarms echoing and magnified as the sound waves bounced between the high-rise office buildings.

  “Keep going straight, but slow down.” Nik kept Aidan’s arm in his grasp. “Cops are coming and we want the only suspicious characters in the area to be Marianne and her friends.” Not that Marianne was necessarily the vampire’s real name. Or Terry Brach, who in his vision had been providing a nice meal for a notorious Penton traitor, shifter-turned-vampire Fen Patrick. Fen had disappeared three months ago after infiltrating Penton and almost destroying it from within.

  Aidan’s breathing rasped as he forced out his first words since they’d fled the back room of the clinic. “When…When did you realize it was a setup? What did you see in that guy’s head?”

  “Enough to know those two are no friends of Penton, and they weren’t working alone.” Nik loosened his grip on Aidan’s arm as they slowed their pace. “The rest can wait. We’ve gotta find another way out of here. They’re watching my SUV.”

  Aidan stumbled, but regained his balance without falling. “Call Mirren. We need to go home.”

  Yeah, no shit. Nik reached into his pocket and was relieved to find his mobile phone still there. A slender crack spiderwebbed its way across the glass screen, but when he pressed his thumbprint on the front button, the device lit up. He scrolled to find the number for Penton’s security chief, Mirren Kincaid. The Scotsman was the biggest man, vampire or human, Nik had ever seen, with a badass attitude to match.

  Mirren wouldn’t give a shit about Penton’s resident human psychometric, but Nik didn’t take the vampire’s attitude personally. As much as Nik hated his peculiar gift of reading the pasts of objects and people, Kincaid hated it worse because he couldn’t understand or control it.

  But Mirren Kincaid would die for Aidan Murphy, and Nik was relieved to
hear his gruff voice answer on the second ring.

  “It’s Nik. We ran into an ambush.”

  Mirren’s voice was part rumble, part growl. “Aw, fuck me. How’s Aidan?”

  They had stopped on the street while Nik talked, hidden in the recess of an office supply shop entrance. Aidan had leaned against the storefront with his eyes closed.

  “Weak. Bad. We’re exposed.”

  Kincaid cursed again. “Get unexposed, then call with a location. Help’s on the way.”

  Strong vampires could sense other vampires; master vamps could even tell friend from foe. The safest place to hide Aidan was in a public place where no vampire would risk an attack even if they spotted him and knew who he was. Nik used the geolocator on his phone to find the nearest coffee shop. There was a 24-hour Starbucks in the lobby of a hotel a block farther from the clinic. Perfect.

  “C’mon. One more block.” Nik pulled on Aidan’s arm and got him moving. Along the way, he brushed dust and ash out of Aidan’s dark hair, then shook it out of his own, which was even darker. “Brush more of that shit off your jacket and wipe your face.”

  While Aidan tried to dust himself off, Nik did the same, especially on his face. Despite being New Orleans born and bred, Nik had inherited his looks from his Greek father. Olive skin, black hair, and white dust and ash created a noticeable combination.

  “Where’re we going?” Aidan’s voice was little more than a whisper.

  “We’re having coffee, hopefully in a cafe full of humans.” Nik nudged Aidan to walk faster. “Then we’re gonna wait for Mirren to ride in on his white horse.” Or his beat-up black Bronco.

  For what seemed like the first time in the months since Nik had moved to Penton, they caught a break. The Starbucks shone with bright lights and held a swarm of people waiting for espresso, sweetening their lattes, talking, laughing, being human. The air was warm, the aroma of roasted coffee beans a comfort, the crowd dense enough to make any enemy vampire think twice about trying to take them out. Good choice.

  Nik deposited Aidan in a corner booth with instructions not to move—not that he could—then stood in line and bought two large coffees, heavy on cream and sugar.

  He slid into the booth across from his boss. His friend. The man who’d founded Penton and given him a home. Nik set one of the cups in front of Aidan, even though the vampire wouldn’t drink it; both cups were for Nik. His long night was about to get even longer, and he wouldn’t have the luxury of mandatory daysleep like the vampires.

  Not to mention that Mirren Kincaid wasn’t the only one who’d die to keep Aidan Murphy safe. Nik would be right there alongside the big guy.

  Aidan appeared to be asleep, wedged into the corner of the booth with his head resting against the wall. Vampires didn’t sleep, but let the guy chill. Nik had no idea what else to do for him. Aidan’s mate, Krys, had been in a coma for the past three months, ever since Aidan had suffered a vicious attack that left his handsome face scarred. Vampires and their mates had weird energy-sharing abilities, and Aidan’s injury had almost killed Krys by sapping her strength while he tried to heal. Now, Krys’s body and mind unconsciously pulled strength from Aidan to stay alive, and Aidan was letting it happen.

  If Aidan cut his mental bonds to Krys, she would die. Her mate wasn’t willing to let her go.

  The time might be imminent when Aidan had to make that choice or else he and Krys both could die, and Nik wasn’t sure any of Penton’s residents would let that happen. As much as everyone loved Krys, their charismatic leader was the reason they had moved to Penton. Without him, everything they built could crumble. Mirren didn’t want to lead, and Aidan’s other lieutenants, while strong, didn’t yet command enough respect from the remaining citizens.

  Nik couldn’t judge Aidan’s decisions about Krys, right or wrong. Who was he to say what a loved one’s life was worth? All he knew was that Aidan couldn’t lead Penton until the situation with Krys was resolved. Tonight had proven it.

  Penton might be the town where Aidan had allowed vampires and their familiars to live in peace and safety. It also was the place Nik had come to call home, where he could be at peace for the first time in his life. He couldn’t read the pasts of vampires, and once he’d met and read the pasts of the human residents, life had settled down. He no longer relied on alcohol to dull his senses—a good thing. A guy could only lean on a bottle of Crown Royal so long before it let him fall hard.

  Penton was Nik’s last chance at any semblance of a normal life, and he’d fight to protect it. Even bites from a hybrid coyote shifter last fall hadn’t dulled his love for the place. He’d lucked out on that one by not turning hybrid himself.

  But Aidan was no longer in any shape to lead Penton, and the fight against the Vampire Tribunal grew fiercer with each ambush and sniper attack. Frank Greisser and his followers were desperate because Penton’s allies were growing. Destroy Penton, the Tribunal believed, and the resistance would disappear.

  “What did you see back there? What aren’t you telling me?”

  Nik glanced up from his coffee to see a pair of icy blue eyes trained on him. They didn’t look vaguely human. Aidan’s normal eye color was a deep, arctic blue, but vampire irises grew lighter under stress, or in hunger, or—he was told—during sex. That, he wouldn’t know.

  “Marianne didn’t even show up in Brach’s memory banks,” Nik said. “I’m guessing they just met for this ambush job.” How much should he tell Aidan now? Not that the man who’d helped put Krys in a coma was involved with Brach. Last thing he needed was a half-dead Aidan Murphy staggering back toward the ruins of the clinic in search of intel on Fen Patrick. No, he’d leave out the part about the traitor until he could talk to Mirren. “I’ll fill in the rest when Mirren gets here.”

  “Good. And thanks.” Aidan rested his head against the wall again and closed his eyes. “Cool gloves, by the way.”

  Huh? Nik glanced down at his hands and felt a heavy thread of fear shoot through him like a direct shot of adrenaline. Across the back of his left hand, fingers still curled around the cooling cup of coffee, a patch of sleek yellow-brown fur had sprouted.

  Chapter 2 * Shay

  Shay Underwood paced outside her bathroom door as if what waited inside might explode at any second, taking her life with it.

  Not so far from the truth, but she had to face it. She’d been ignoring the signs for more than three weeks, blaming stress for her period being late. That excuse had begun to ring hollow, though, and Shay had spent her life being trained to face hard truths and find practical solutions.

  She reached for the antique glass doorknob, one of the things she loved about this tiny, overpriced New Orleans apartment that she had splurged on two years ago with the small amount of money she’d inherited from her grandmother.

  Opening the door, she took a deep breath before reaching toward the pedestal sink and turning over the small plastic-encased strip lying on the edge. There lay held her destiny.

  The pink color mocked her even before she held the strip underneath the light to be sure. She was pregnant.

  Sweet Baby Jesus on a raft. No disrespect intended.

  She’d known it, deep inside, but the confirmation stunned her. That little pink strip had sent a virtual fist into her gut. She’d never wanted kids; there were too many unwanted, uncared-for children in the world who needed homes. She had seen them firsthand, summer after summer as she worked alongside her parents in some third-world mission or Peace Corps program.

  She’d certainly never wanted a child under these circumstances. She was thirty-one years old, for God’s sake. Not too old, but too…busy.

  One drunken, careless weekend trip to the beach with her assistant before her new NSF-funded research project began.

  Two days to step outside her life as the serious, career-driven scientist.

  Forty-eight hours she’d have to live with the rest of her life.

  Shay tossed the pregnancy test in the trash, looked at her pale face in the m
irror, and formed her forefinger and thumb at a ninety-degree angle over her forehead: L for Loser.

  She didn’t even remember the guy’s name, and how pathetic was that? He’d been an ordinary-looking, dark-haired stranger at the Flora-Bama bar in Orange Beach, a couple hundred miles east of New Orleans, and she’d been buzzed. He’d come on to her and, face it, she didn’t get that many come-ons working as an epidemiologist. He’d bought her drinks with umbrellas after her assistant had gone home with the early-shift bartender.

  She doubted she’d recognize the guy if she ran over him with her car.

  Great legacy for a kid.

  Her kid.

  Shay sat on the edge of the tub, taking deep gulps of air until the threat of tears died away and the calm, rational side of her brain took over. So what if she were pregnant? Women had babies all the time, even single women with careers. Plans changed. People adapted. She could terminate the pregnancy. She could raise the child, or give it up for adoption. She had options. She had time.

  A noise from the living room caught her attention. She’d barely registered footsteps before a voice called out. “Shay? You home?”

  She frowned, stood up, chastised herself for her pounding heart. She didn’t recognize the male voice, but clearly it was someone who knew her. Except her apartment door had been locked, hadn’t it? Maybe she’d been too rattled by the pregnancy test to lock it. She didn’t know anyone well enough to share a key, but it could be a co-worker from Tulane. They all had each other’s contact info.

  Still, a tingle of fear raced across her scalp. She couldn’t pinpoint what triggered it, but she trusted her instincts. They told her to hide.

  Moving slowly, her footsteps light, Shay eased the bathroom door shut and stepped into the heavy white iron bathtub that stood in a recessed corner. When she saw the glass knob of the door begin to turn, she pressed herself as far out of view as possible. Maybe if her visitor, whoever he was, opened the door and glanced in, he wouldn’t see her.