Wild and mindless, Max leaped toward the red-headed vampire, only to be caught midair and snatched backward by none other than Woodmore.
He whirled, his vision red with fury, fist raised—but Woodmore blocked it, grabbed him by the arm, and said, “Look.”
That was when Max saw the hand that had lifted from Macey’s inert body and now grasped Flora by the front of her shirt.
“You didn’t mean to kill me,” Macey said, lifting her head from the ground. “And you didn’t. But now, at long last, I’m going to kill you, Flora. I’m sorry…and I pray you’ll somehow be at peace…but it’s over.”
“Are you really going to do it…this time?” Flora whispered. Max saw a tear fall from her and plop onto Macey’s face.
“Yes. I really am.” Her voice was soft and rough.
“I loved you.”
“I loved you too.”
“Do it fast, Macey.”
Macey’s other arm shifted sharply, and Max saw Flora jolt from behind…freeze…and then explode into a silvery cloud of dust.
And then everything was quiet and still.
He looked around. Grady, who was holding Flora’s gun, as well as a stake that he’d likely put to use, was helping Savina to her feet—she was bloody, but standing on her own—and she was holding a stake as well. She looked over at Max, and when their gazes connected, he felt a rush of relief shuttle through him so violently he visibly shook. She was alive.
He was damned well going to marry her, too.
Macey was pulling herself slowly to her feet, shaky and grim-faced, holding up a hand to ward off Woodmore when he tried to help. A tear trickled down her cheek and she turned away to wipe it, her shoulders shaking, her head bent.
Woodmore glanced at Max, then went over to the table on which Rekk’s Pyramid sat, innocent and quiet in its evil.
Max hesitated for the breadth of a second, then he went to Macey and, before she could move away or protest, he pulled her into an embrace.
A long-overdue embrace.
“How did you do it?” he said. “You’re not even bleeding. I saw the bullet hit you.”
“The one and only asset I took from my time with Al Capone—a special bulletproof corset.”
He closed his eyes, ignoring the way they burned, and squeezed her tighter. Maybe he owed Alphonse another visit. This time, as a thank you.
Macey heaved a long sigh, then exhaled, sinking deeper into his arms, trembling as she wrapped her arms around him and hung on for dear life.
And for the first time in thirteen years, Max felt like a father again.
+ + +
“Are you going to do it here, Woodmore?” Max asked after a moment.
His arms were still tight around Macey—so tight she could hardly breathe—but she didn’t care. She hadn’t been held by her daddy in a long time, and she discovered she needed it.
“I’m not sure,” Chas replied. “There are…considerations.”
Macey pulled away to see what they were talking about, and her attention couldn’t help but skim over Grady. He seemed unhurt, and was standing next to Chas, who appeared to be ready to apply the curved-tongue blade to Rekk’s Pyramid.
It struck her sharply then that this was it. Their work here was done—Grady’s work for Max—and it was over.
It was really, truly over. Her eyes burned again and she swallowed hard.
No sooner had Macey released herself from her father’s hug than Savina was there, rushing into his arms, heedless of the blood staining the front of her pretty pink suit. The embrace Max gave her was markedly different than the one he’d given Macey, and she turned away, fighting both tears and a smile.
“What sort of considerations?” she asked Chas, forcing herself to keep her emotions under control. She would not look at Grady. She simply would not.
Of course he’d heard everything Flora had said during her ranting—about him being the most important thing to Macey—and she wasn’t certain what he believed or how he felt about it. She hoped he’d just…forget about it.
And return to his regular life.
When Max no longer has need of me, it’ll be just as you intended.
Macey drew in a deep, shaky breath. Maybe she’d go back to Rome with Max and Savina, and see the Consilium. There was no longer any real purpose for her in Chicago, and Chas could stay and keep an eye on things.
“Temple’s notes said to penetrate the pyramid with the ruby-eyed skull’s crooked tongue by a man—”
“A man?” Macey asked.
Chas shrugged. “I’m just repeating what Temple wrote, lulu.”
“All right, then. By what sort of man…?”
“By a man clear of heart.” He paused and looked around, a sardonic smile on his face. “That wouldn’t be me.”
She looked up at him, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing. “You’ve never stopped loving Narcise Moldavi—for more than a century. I’d say that means you’re clear of heart.”
He blinked rapidly and looked down at the knife in his hand. “Perhaps. But…” He shrugged. “I suppose it can’t hurt for me to try.”
“I can’t help but notice you didn’t suggest I try it,” Max said drily. Macey looked at him in shock, then saw that he was grinning, his arm tight around Savina’s waist, his face relaxed and handsome.
She laughed with the others.
They gathered around, Max and Savina fairly glued to each other’s side and her father’s arm slung around Macey’s shoulders.
Chas took a long in-breath and rested the point of the dagger at the pyramid’s point. He gripped the hilt in two hands, preparing to force the weapon straight down into the stone, when it began to slide in…all on its own.
They gave a soft, collective gasp of surprise as the blade penetrated the center of the pyramid—as easily as if it had been soft butter. And then, the onyx split, falling apart into two pieces…and then shattered, exploding into dust—just as Lilith the Dark, its creator, had done a hundred years earlier.
Macey looked up at Chas. His eyes were bright and shining. Clearer than she’d ever seen them.
She whispered, “Clear of heart.”
TWENTY-SIX
~ In Which the Lady Photographer’s Secret is Revealed ~
With Rekk’s Pyramid nothing but tiny flakes of shiny black onyx, and the undead put to rest—for the time being—the five of them agreed there was no reason to linger in the old house.
Yet Macey lingered.
She stood there, staring at the place Flora had been turned to dust. Her eyes stung with tears as she remembered those last moments: opening her eyes after the shock of the bullet’s impact to find Flora bending over her.
The glow had gone from the vampire gaze, and her blue eyes were filled with tears and pain.
Macey had looked up at her, tears clouding her own vision, and pulled the stake from her pocket. This time, she had no hesitation, no uncertainty, and she grabbed her friend’s blouse.
Are you really going to do it this time?
Yes. I really am.
I loved you.
I loved you too.
Do it fast, Macey.
She said a prayer, asking for forgiveness—for the hurt she’d caused Flora, for some chance that her friend might in some way be redeemed—and rammed the stake up into her heart.
Flora’s eyes bolted wide at the force, and she stilled. Then she smiled, as if released from some great pain…and she was gone.
Now it was time to leave, and Macey wiped her eyes once more, sniffling like a child, wishing for a handkerchief.
Suddenly, someone was there, offering her one.
Macey recognized his hand: Grady. Her body gave a little tremor and she took the offering, then quickly wiped her eyes and nose—all the while hiding her expression from him and avoiding the fury in his eyes.
“Thank you,” she said, stuffing it into her pocket, and looked around the room one last time—as if to make certain she wasn’t forgetting anything�
��then started for the door. Escape. That was all she wanted now: escape.
“Macey?” Max’s voice penetrated the murky pool of her emotions. “Are you ready?” His voice was unusually gentle.
“I’m coming,” she said, crumpling the handkerchief in a fist and starting toward her father. She was startled to realize she wanted another hug from him.
Grady slipped ahead with Chas, and Macey, Max, and Savina followed as they made their way back the way they’d come—through the makeshift door cut in the wall, the dynamite-blasted entrance, and the subterranean creek-path.
When they emerged from the old railway station, they discovered it was well into the night. Wispy clouds covered the moon and stars, and in the distance a trio of colored spotlights scored the dark sky.
The five piled into Grady’s car: Chas in front, Max and the two women in the back. Macey chose to sit directly behind Grady so she wouldn’t be tempted to try and see his profile. The sooner she got away from him, the sooner she could begin to rebuild her life—and her heart.
“You did do that on purpose, right, lulu?” Chas asked from the front seat. “Goaded her into shooting you?”
“Of course,” Macey replied. “Flora was an excellent markswoman, and she also was smart enough not to give me a good target for the stake. I just didn’t expect the force to be such that it would knock me on my behind!”
“You did that purposely? You made her shoot you on purpose?” Max’s voice was tight. “What if she’d aimed for your bloody head? What if the bulletproof corset hadn’t worked? Did it ever occur to you—”
Macey interrupted, patting his hand. “She wasn’t going to shoot me in the head—it’s a smaller target, and besides, she hadn’t shot either Temple nor Dr. Sevin in the head. Only in the chest. I thought my chances were pretty damned good.”
“Pretty damned good? That’s not good enough—” Max grumbled, then stopped abruptly.
Macey got the impression Savina had kicked him, and she smiled to herself. She really did like Savina.
“Al Capone—Alphonsus—wears a vest like that some of the time,” Macey went on. “He’d had the corset made for me when I was—when we were working together.” She glanced at the back of Grady’s head as a swath of streetlight passed through the car, knowing he despised the gangster and his ilk. But there was nothing to indicate whether he was listening or not. “It’s not very comfortable, but I thought it would be a good idea to wear it, since Flora had already demonstrated her propensity for using bullets as well as her fangs.”
They pulled up in front of Grady’s house, and Macey climbed out quickly, her stomach in knots. Almost over. Just get your things and get the hell out of here.
Chas paused on the sidewalk in front of the porch. “This is where I take my leave,” he said.
Macey embraced him, and he planted a quick, smacking kiss on her lips. “Be strong, lulu,” he murmured into her ear, giving her a crushing, one-armed hug.
“I’ll see you soon?” she asked, clutching his arm. Suddenly, she didn’t want him to go.
“I’m off to Siberia in short order,” he replied, “but I have some things to attend to here before I go.”
Then he turned to shake hands with Grady, followed by Savina and Max. They stood there talking as Grady unlocked the door.
“I’ll just get my things,” Macey said, going through the door as soon as Grady pushed it open. She ran up the stairs, leaving them all to say goodbye to Chas. She wanted to get out of here and go somewhere private where she could begin to deal with everything that had happened in the last few days.
She was stuffing things into her satchel as quickly as possible when Macey heard Savina come into the bedroom.
“I’ve got an extra—” Her heart stopped. It wasn’t Savina standing in the doorway, bathed in light from the hallway. It was Grady.
She recovered quickly and returned to shoving lingerie, stakes, and vials of holy water into her bag. “I’ll be finished here in a second.”
“I thought you were dead.” His voice, low and tight, cut through the room.
Macey stilled and looked up, seeing him fully for the first time. His face was a mask of pain and anger as he stood, blocking the doorway.
“I stood there and I watched her put a bullet into you. I thought you were dead.”
She swallowed, though it was difficult with a dry throat and the lump clogging it. “I…”
Leaning against the doorjamb, he bowed his head, rubbing his forehead with jerky movements. “I thought I’d lost you—that you were really gone. And I realized I…couldn’t…I was…” He was shaking his head, his expression tortured with misery, anger, and regret.
“I’m sorry,” she said, finally able to force out the words. “I didn’t mean to upset anyone—well, except for Flora,” she added with a tense laugh…for the grief still lingered in her heart. And now it was expanding even more, painfully swelling inside her chest as she saw the agony playing out on her beloved’s face. “It was the only way I could—”
“Macey, my God—what you asked of Wayren was wrong. So incredibly wrong…”
“Oh, God, Grady, I know, I was…” Her voice broke. How could she ever apologize, explain…ever be worthy of his forgiveness?
“But the simple truth is—despite it all—despite the—the enormity of what you did…Macey, I don’t want to live my life without you. Dammit.” His voice was raw, and he was barely grinding out the words.
Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she wanted to go to him…but she dared not. “I love you. So much. I know what I did was an abomination, an unforgivable decision. It was as good as—as destroying you. I was wrong.”
He lifted his face finally, and the look in his eyes stabbed her low in the belly. They were dark, brilliant blue—like clear and bold sapphires, tormented and desperate…yet there was a flicker of hope in them.
“In spite of that, oh, dammit, Macey…I want you by my side—and I want to be by your side—through all of this: whatever hell or fury you might face. Whatever wars or grief or loss we might have, I want to face them together. With you. And I find I…I can’t change that.”
He stepped away from the door, into the room, holding her with that intense gaze. “In spite of it all, a rún, I love you more than anything. I always will.”
Macey didn’t remember moving, but the next thing she knew, she was in his arms and they were kissing as if they needed it to breathe. His face was wet, and the saltiness from her own tears mingled with the sensual warmth of his lips as she devoured him, pulling his face closer to hers.
She couldn’t control a delicate tremor, and pressed closer into his embrace—for it was like coming home and having a great weight lifted from her shoulders and arriving in heaven—all at once.
He sighed her name as he tightened his arms around her, burying his face in her hair then trailing soft kisses along her jaw and along the front of her ear. She shivered with pleasure, her body coming alive as it evolved from intense pain and grief to sweet, sudden passion.
“Macey, do you need— Oh.”
She pulled away to see her father standing in the doorway. Savina was right behind him, and she tugged at his arm—which, of course, did little to move him. “I told you that everything was fine. Now, leave them be. I’ve been sitting on this secret since Sunday, wondering when it was going to come out.”
Savina gave Macey and Grady a smile. “I know you have much to—er—talk about, so Max and I will be leaving now.” She tugged at his arm again. “Right, darling?”
But Max seemed unwilling to move as his eyes went from Macey’s face to Grady’s face…then to the locations of his hands. His expression darkened.
“I suppose I’m going to have to learn to dislike you intensely now,” he muttered. “Which is a damned shame, because I was rather fond of you, you bloody mick.”
Then he turned and walked away.
TWENTY-SEVEN
~ A Lot of Talking & Some Other Activities Too ~
“Grady,” Macey began, now that she’d settled abruptly back to earth. “I can’t imagine how—”
“Don’t,” he said, and pressed a light kiss to her puffy lips, then coming back for more: a long, slick one that had her head spinning. He licked the inside of her mouth with slow, sensual strokes, teased her tongue with his, sucked and nibbled on her lips as desire rolled through her like an approaching storm.
He pulled away and spoke, his voice soft and rough. “We can talk later. Right now…I just want to make love to you, Macey. I need to put all of that aside for a little while…and—and feel again.”
She blinked back tears of guilt and pain. “Oh, Grady, yes…please,” she whispered as she lifted her face to kiss him, then moved along to taste the saltiness of his warm skin along a jaw gritty with stubble, and to the long, strong tendon of his neck.
He vibrated a little, giving a soft groan as she kissed and licked and nibbled there—all the while, he was pulling up her sweater to slide his hands over her back, his hands caressing her bare skin.
It wasn’t long before he had her over to the bed, leaving a trail of shoes and trousers and stockings along the way. But he paused when she flung off her sweater and began to unhook the special corset.
“This,” he said, moving his hands over the stiff, uncomfortable girdle, “is what saved my life…because it saved yours. I’m thinking I should be kissing Al Capone’s damned feet.”
Macey gusted out a laugh—because otherwise she would cry—and replied, “I don’t think that would be very pleasant— Oh!” She squeaked in surprise, for he’d slipped his hand, not beneath the corset as she’d expected, but down into her drawers.
He muttered something bordering on profane when he touched her there and discovered how slick and full she was, and looked up at her with hot eyes.
“Macey,” he whispered.
She realized at that moment, in a blinding rush of shock, that he hadn’t been certain she’d want him the way she had before. That something might have changed between them.
Roaring Dawn: Macey Book 3 (The Gardella Vampire Hunters 10) Page 27