Vampires in America

by D. B. Reynolds

  “I am in no danger, Emmaline,” he said gently, taking her hand.

  She tipped her head from side to side. “Well, no more than usual, maybe. You need to look at this.” She passed over a printed copy of the relevant pages from the Congressional Record.

  Duncan bent his head to read the few paragraphs, but she still saw the flare of bronze in his eyes that told her something about the entry triggered strong emotions. Something more than the fact that a congressman was targeting vampires.

  “Why is his name so familiar?” she asked, zeroing in on the one thing that had stuck in her head.

  He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stood, taking her hand as he did and pulling her over to the couch, where he sat and pulled her so close that she was practically on his lap.

  “Duncan?” she said, getting worried. Why the hell couldn’t she place that fucker’s name?

  “Do you remember, darlin’, after Lacey died—”

  He never hesitated to say Lacey’s name or even to refer to her murder. Emma appreciated that. She was strong enough to deal with whatever this was. And Lacey deserved to be remembered as the warm, wonderful person she’d been, Emma’s sister in every way that mattered. She was more than the circumstances of her death.

  “—and we dealt with that bastard Max Grafton, I told you there were others—”

  “And you said we’d deal with them, too, in time,” she interrupted, thinking hard. Was Kerwin one of those? She replayed in her head every conversation she could remember, but that had been a terrible time for her. Everything was overlaid with so much pain.

  “The interview with Violet,” he said, understanding what she was doing and quietly jogging her thoughts.

  Her eyes widened. She now knew exactly what had caused that flare of emotion in Duncan’s eyes. He had no use for men who abused women, and Congressman Dean Kerwin had been one of the men who’d raped and otherwise abused the young women who’d been provided by his predecessor, the vampire lord Victor. Victor had selected the women for their beauty and desire to party with DC powerbrokers. He’d used his considerable power as a vampire lord to compel them to cooperate in the sexual free-for-alls that he’d hosted for influential members of congress and other powerbrokers, and then he’d wiped the women’s memories so they couldn’t complain. Except that he’d had to rush it after Lacey died, and someone had remembered. Violet Slayton had worked with Lacey and known her well. She’d also been there the day Lacey was killed, and with Duncan’s help, she’d remembered the events of that day.

  She’d never known the name of the man who’d raped her, but her description had been enough that Duncan recognized him. Dean Kerwin was on a list kept only in Duncan’s head. An enemies list that included every man or woman who’d participated in the rape and abuse of those young women. They hadn’t been able to kill them all at once. Too many deaths would attract too much attention. But now . . .

  “What happens if Kerwin dies?” he growled.

  Emma thought quickly. “The governor of his state is a friend. We and others have donated heavily to his campaign. He’ll appoint a successor who shares our values. Plus, it’s too late in the cycle to waste money on a special election. He’ll wait until the general, which gives his appointed candidate a head start in campaigning. We will, of course, contribute generously to the appropriate political action committee.”

  Duncan nodded. “Sort through our invitations. Find something Kerwin has committed to attend. Something social that he can’t avoid. I want to meet him before he dies.”

  Dean Kerwin had just hit the number one spot on Duncan’s list.

  IT WAS BLACK TIE, as so many of Washington’s events were. Emma didn’t mind. She loved dressing up, and as for Duncan. . . . Well, the man had been born to wear a tux. He was the very picture of lethal elegance. The guards at the door were well-trained enough to know they were missing something. Duncan couldn’t hide the sense of danger he wore like a second skin. But because it fit him so well, he wasn’t bothered by the security scans or more intrusive pat-downs at the entry checkpoint. Some vampires, especially the powerful ones, would have bristled in insult at the idea of humans laying hands on them. But not Duncan. He stood impassively, knowing they’d find nothing, knowing if they went too far that he could stop their hearts with a thought.

  On the other hand, when the guards—frustrated at finding nothing on Duncan—thought to turn that same attention on Emma, Duncan stepped in. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. One look from those cold vampire eyes and they forgot Emma existed.

  “You’re such a bully,” she whispered, taking his arm as they walked into the ballroom.

  “It is my obligation as a Southern gentleman to defend your honor.”

  It was said with such a heavy Southern accent that she laughed out loud, drawing more than one glance from the stodgy gathering. It was too early in the evening for frivolity, she knew. Another an hour or two, and the guffaws would be loud and loose.

  “Any sign of our prey?” he asked, glancing over at Miguel to include him in the question. His lieutenant was there as a bodyguard, and he wasn’t the only one. Well, he was the only vampire bodyguard.

  “We need to circulate,” Emma said, linking her arm with his.

  “You take the right side, Miguel. We’ll go left.”

  “Sire.” Miguel infused that one word with so much. Disapproval at being parted from Duncan in this crowd. Warning that it wasn’t wise. And, finally, acceptance, because he knew it was a losing battle.

  Duncan grinned. “We’ll be fine. Emma will defend me, won’t you, darlin’?”

  She gave Miguel a solemn nod. “With my life.”

  “Not even in jest, Emmaline. Go, Miguel. The room isn’t that large. I am capable of defending us for the few seconds it will take you to reach us.”

  They parted ways, Miguel going around one side of the huge room while the two of them went around the other. There were more people here than Emma had expected when she’d chosen this event. Although she’d known most of DC would be invited, the cause it was supporting wasn’t that popular amongst half of the politicians in this divided town, and she expected the turnout to reflect that. But apparently, everyone was trying to demonstrate their social awareness, and so it was packed.

  “Is this too many people?” she asked Duncan.

  “Not at all. The more people who witness our friendly encounter, the better. Same goes for the good congressman’s excellent health when we depart this evening.”

  Emma knew she should be shocked at his casual plotting to murder a US Congressman. Or anybody, really. But she knew what Kerwin was guilty of, and she knew he’d never pay for his crimes. He was too well-connected, and too visible. His party would rather see a guilty man go free than suffer a scandal that could cost them an election. That was what politics had come to.

  She’d take vampire justice any day of the week.

  Duncan stilled for a moment, and she knew Miguel was demanding his attention. Especially when he turned his head to scan the other side of the room. “Congressman Kerwin,” he murmured, then pulled her close, speaking directly in her ear. “Remember what we agreed, Emma. This is a friendly encounter of Washington insiders, nothing more.”

  “But I get to be there later, right?”

  Duncan sighed. He hadn’t been joking about the Southern gentleman thing, earlier. He’d been born and bred to protect his woman.

  “Yes,” he agreed finally. “You will join me later, as well.”

  She went up on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Let’s go schmooze.”

  “SCHMOOZE,” DUNCAN repeated quietly, as the three of them—he, Emma, and Miguel—let themselves in through the congressman’s patio door. Kerwin had first-rate security, but the only security guaranteed to keep out vampires was more vampires. And Kerwin didn’
t have any of those. Duncan would never have allowed it, even if the man had tried to hire some. Vampire lords were very picky about whom they agreed to protect, and every vampire in their territory abided by their rules.

  “Not now,” Emma whispered. “Now is for doing, not talking.”

  “Good to know.” He stepped into the expansive room beyond the doors and paused to take the pulse of the household. To his right, he could see the kitchen, and beyond that . . . a human female slept. Probably the cook and/or housekeeper. Innocent. He pushed her into a deeper sleep, and moved on. There were no other bodies on this ground floor, living or dead. And no one in the basement below. He strode silently to the foot of the stairs and looked up. Two humans, both adult. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was capable of deepening a child’s sleep, but was reluctant to do so. In his mind, children were to be protected at all costs. In a situation like this, letting them sleep was the best protection, but they would still wake in the morning to death. And he would spare them that sadness, if he could.

  “No children,” he murmured, when Emma joined him. She squeezed his arm in understanding.

  “Kerwin?” she whispered.

  “Upstairs, along with a female, but in a separate room.”

  “His wife was with him at the fundraiser.”

  Duncan shrugged. He didn’t care who the woman was. If she was his wife, she had to know on some level the kind of man she’d married. “She’ll sleep until morning. Let’s go.”

  Miguel went first. Duncan didn’t even try to persuade him otherwise. He put Emma in the middle, while he went last, sliding in front of her as they approached the congressman’s bedroom.

  The doors were closed, but Kerwin was a drinker. By the time Duncan had spoken with him at the party, he’d already been well inebriated. Enough that he hadn’t remembered meeting Duncan before. And when Duncan had discreetly brought up the subject of the man’s legislation to ban vampires from living in DC, he’d seemed too drunk to tone down his rhetoric to suit his audience. Duncan had intercepted more than one worried and/or apologetic glance from others within hearing distance. But Kerwin had seemed unaware of those as well.

  Either he was a very good actor, or a very bad drunk.

  Regardless of what he was, however, he was going to die tonight. And before then, he’d know exactly who Duncan was, and exactly why he was about to die.

  Duncan slipped into Kerwin’s bedroom, thankful that the man at least had the good taste to wear pajamas. It wouldn’t have changed whether he lived or died, but at least it spared Emma the sight of a naked Kerwin.

  “Wake up, Kerwin.” He sent the telepathic command directly to the human’s sleeping brain.

  Kerwin sat up with a start, shock written on his face and reflected in his posture, as he leaned back against a huge headboard of elaborately carved wood. He stared blankly, still too drunk to made sense of this invasion.

  Duncan reacted impatiently, sending a small shot of telepathy that reacted like an electrical shock, or maybe a jolt of 100% caffeine, waking the man up and driving the last vestiges of confusion from his brain.

  Kerwin’s reaction, typically, shifted to aggression. He was a powerful man. No one dared accost him in his own home. Aggression was quickly tempered by fear, however. The ultimate refuge of a bully when confronted with a true threat.

  “Who are you people?”

  Duncan, realizing it was too dark for the human to see clearly, flicked his fingers in a wisp of power and turned on every light in the room at once.

  “Vampire,” Kerwin whispered. “How dare . . . you think I’m afraid of you?” He turned and dug through the drawer in his nightstand, finally coming up with a cross, which he held out in front of him. “Begone, demon spawn.”

  Duncan gave a bored sigh. “Well. Now that’s out of the way. We’re here to discuss—”

  “Call my office,” he sneered, seeming unaware that his talisman had no effect. The man should have at least informed himself about vampire facts before he thought to cross them. “But it won’t do any good. The bill’s going through.”

  Duncan tilted his head, intrigued. “It will never survive a Supreme Court challenge. You must know that.”

  “Who’s going to bring the lawsuit? You?” he demanded, dismissal in every syllable.

  “Well, yes, for starters. But it won’t ever reach that point, because you, my friend, are going to die tragically long before then.”

  Kerwin drew breath to respond, but in that moment Duncan’s words caught up with his brain, and his mouth snapped shut, thus forever denying the world, or at least the three of them, the thrill of his snappy comeback.

  “Look,” he stammered. “I can withdraw the bill.”

  Duncan snorted dismissively. “I don’t care about your bill. It’s barely worth my time. Your mistake was raising your head from the morass and reminding me of your previous crimes.”

  “Previous . . . what previous crimes?”

  “Oh, I’m sure there are many, but the only ones that concern me have to do with a young woman named Violet Slayton.”

  “You’ve got the wrong man. I don’t even know someone named Violet.”

  “She’s the young woman you raped at that house in Leesburg. And probably others.”

  “It was—” He swallowed nervously, then blurted out, “She never said no!”

  “She couldn’t,” Duncan snarled. “Max Grafton made sure of it, and you knew that.”

  “I swear—”

  Duncan didn’t wait to hear whatever lies he’d told himself to justify rape. He simply gathered his power and sent Kerwin spinning into a nightmare, one where he was the victim, weak and helpless. Unable to tap even his own will to defend himself.

  He watched impassively as the human thrashed on the big bed, as he whimpered, and cried out in pain and humiliation. When his cries turned to screams, Duncan froze his vocal cords. He could deal with whoever might come to investigate, but it was easier to stop the man from screaming at all, especially when doing so only added to the despair of the nightmare Duncan had crafted.

  “Baby,” Emma whispered, sliding up next to him and taking his hand as she stared at Kerwin.

  Duncan turned and placed a soft kiss on the side of her head.

  “I think it’s time to go,” she told him.

  He gave her a surprised look. “You don’t want him to suffer for what he did?”

  “Of course I do. But it’s you I’m worried about. His soul can rot in hell, but yours is worth saving. He deserves this, but you don’t.”

  “Emma,” he murmured, freeing his hand to pull her close. “Whatever did I do to deserve you?”

  “Maybe I deserved you, instead.”

  He hugged her tightly. “All right.” With a thought, he wiped the nightmare from Kerwin’s brain, and, in almost the same instant, squeezed the human’s heart, disrupting its rhythm until it was struggling to maintain function.

  “Let’s go,” he said quickly. He wanted Emma out of that room before Kerwin died.

  She went willingly, but kept hold of his hand, making sure he came with her. He and Miguel exchanged a look of perfect understanding as Duncan released Kerwin’s heart, letting the man die a moment before they left the room. Miguel closed the doors.

  THEY LEFT THE house as quietly as they’d entered, without so much as a stray dog bark to say they’d been there. The drive back to Embassy Row and their own small house was oddly peaceful. Emma knew she should be troubled. She wasn’t blind to what Duncan and Miguel had done at the end. They’d killed Kerwin, although Duncan had tried to spare her the sight of it. Did he really think she was that innocent? But she didn’t call him on it, because he meant well. He wanted to protect her, and as long as protection didn’t cross the line into lying, or keeping her in the dark about things that mattered, she�
��d let him.

  She gave a light yawn and snuggled up to him in the backseat of the SUV.

  “Tired?” Duncan asked, shifting to put his arm around her.

  She nodded. “Long night.”

  “We’ll be home soon.”

  Emma let her head fall against his shoulder, fighting tears. Home. It was everything she and Lacey had dreamed of through all the years of foster care. A home to call their own, and maybe someone to share it with. A man who loved them. It seemed unfair that Lacey’s death had brought that dream to Emma. But her friend wouldn’t have begrudged her happiness. Lacey was probably swinging on a cloud somewhere, laughing down at Emma, and making big eyes because Duncan was so gorgeous.

  She smiled. “Home,” she agreed.

  The End

  Vampire Vignette #16

  Dessert

  Shortly after ADEN, Book Seven

  Chicago, Illinois

  SIDONIE WAS NERVOUS. This was a big night. Meet-the-family night. She’d put it off for as long as she could, until her brothers had begun to drop hints that maybe she was ashamed of her vampire lover. And that was unacceptable. Her nervousness had more to do with grandchildren. As in, there wouldn’t be any. Not from her, anyway. And then there was the whole immortality thing. Obviously, her parents wouldn’t care if she outlived them, but what about her brothers? They’d age, their children would age, and Sid would remain just as she was. That was weird enough to make any girl worry about the family’s reaction.

  But she couldn’t tolerate the idea that anyone would think she was ashamed of Aden, so tonight was the night. She was still in her robe, making one more attempt at taming her curly hair, when Aden strolled out of his closet, smoothing his tie. Her heart did a good old-fashioned pitty-pat at the sight of him. Her beautiful vampire didn’t wear suits very often, but when he did . . . good God, he was handsome. The suit was a dark charcoal, custom-made to show off his broad shoulders and deep chest, his flat belly, his narrow waist. . . . She caught herself a moment before she’d stripped him naked in her thoughts. His tie was black, with a small silver pattern, contrasting nicely with a white shirt, but . . .