by Susan Hayes
“You dreamed about me?” Gareth gave her a dazed look and sat up as he watched the knife flicker and dance in her hand. “Come back to bed, we need to talk about this. You know why you weren’t told where we are. It’s for your protection.” He opened his arms to her in a silent invitation to come to him.
“Oh yes, it’s all necessary. If your people didn’t have me running for my life then he’d have killed me by now, or worse. My life is totally out of control, Gareth. I can’t even get away from the madness in my dreams! And the best I can get from you is some Neanderthal statement that I belong to you and you’ll protect me.”
“You’re upset,” Gareth observed and slid out of bed, his eyes moving from her face to the knife blade and back again.
“No shit, you think so?” Kyra heard her voice crack and tried to rein in the emotions pouring through her. Long days and terror-filled nights had taken their toll, and the ironclad grip she held on herself finally slipped a notch, then another. Horrified at her own weakness, she bit back a sob and pointed to the door. “Get out.”
“Kyra, I—” He started to argue and then got out of bed, his expression resigned. “I need to debrief the others. Dinner is in less than an hour. They’ll be sending someone to talk to you while I’m gone.” His gaze dropped to the knife again. “We’ll talk later. I want to hear about your dreams, sweetheart.”
“You should know all about them. Aren’t you the one sending them to me? Just like him! Get. Out. Now!” She hurled the last words at him with enough volume to make him wince, hanging on to the last shreds of her control as she watched him leave. Once he was gone she turned and threw herself onto the bed, muffling her broken sobs into the pillows, praying no one heard her.
She hated this. Depending on others, feeling out of control. She had made a promise to herself the day she’d left home that she would never rely on anyone ever again. Her mother had been too scared to fight, too beaten down to even protest when her second husband had started abusing her only child. She’d taught Kyra to hide her bruises just as she did, tried to tell her that it was love that made him do what he did.
She’d grown up in fear, never knowing what would trigger another round of anger and violence. She’d finally had enough and left, a gun in her hand to keep her stepfather at bay as she took the money the government sent to her family each month to keep her fed and clothed. Money he used to buy his beer and cigarettes. She’d left that day and never looked back.
Kyra screamed her rage, fear, and frustration into the bedding until she was drained. When she finally sat up and wiped her eyes, she felt better, her mind clear for the first time in days. She got up slowly, feeling more than a little foolish as she realized she’d soaked the pillow with tears.
Leaving the bed, she’d gone to the window and perched there, staring into the rapidly falling darkness and a sky slowly filled with the light of a thousand, thousand stars. Wherever she was, there was no major city nearby. Not when the Milky Way flowed like a river of light through the sky above her. The knife in her hand started to spin and twirl again as she organized her thoughts. She’d been on the defensive, reacting with no time to consider, no time to think. Now that she could take the time she did so, examining the facts and experiences of the last few days and slowly piecing them together until she had the entire picture laid out in her mind.
Eventually Kyra started pacing, walking back and forth in front of the window as she let her mind drift. When her thoughts turned to Gareth, her heart panged. Gareth, who insisted he was her sworn protector but was also something of a monster himself. Not to mention a man who knew her entire life story but wouldn’t share much of himself without prodding. And she had dreamed of him, of them both. But the dreams about Gareth were not filled with fear or violence. They had just been of him, holding her in his arms, wanting her.
She caught a flicker of movement outside and pressed her nose to the glass, trying to see past her own reflection. There were guards out there. She caught sight of one of them as he passed through a well-lit area, his measured steps and military bearing making it clear he was not just another guest out for a stroll. “To keep the bad guys out or to keep me in?” she muttered out loud.
“A little of both, actually.” A woman’s voice came from inside the room.
Kyra spun and threw the knife before she even had time for her brain to catch up to her instincts. Then she stared as the visitor plucked it out of the air with a movement too fast for her to even see properly. “Nice reflexes.”
“That’s what Gareth said, too.” She took a half step forward and stopped, feeling at a bit of a loss for words. “I’m sorry about that. You startled me.”
The other woman laughed and handed the knife back to her, hilt first. “I know better than to enter a room without knocking, especially when the occupant has been under considerable stress. Gareth suggested you may have been sleeping, so when I didn’t hear anything, I just let myself in. It’s my own fault.”
Kyra took back the knife and set it on a bedside table while she took in the appearance of her visitor. She was older, perhaps fifty or so, and had to be nearly six feet in height. Her dark hair was shot through with silver and there were laugh lines etched around her eyes. She moved like a much younger woman though, and when she smiled, her hazel eyes were friendly as she returned Kyra’s assessing gaze with one of her own.
“How are you coping with all this?” the woman asked finally. “I’m Moira, by the way. Gareth didn’t want you to be alone for long, though I’m not sure if it was because he was worried for your safety or if he thought you’d make a break for it while he wasn’t looking.”
Kyra snorted with involuntary laughter. “Possibly both, though truth be told I only considered going out the window for ten seconds or less. I know if I go out there, he’ll find me.” She held out her hand to Moira. “I know you know already, but my name is Kyra. It’s nice to meet you.”
The hand that took hers was warm but well callused and stronger than she had expected. “I’m sorry for the way this has all gone. What happened with you, it’s very rare. Gareth did the best he could, but he’s a hunter to the core, and a man to boot, and his people skills are somewhat lacking. If you have questions, I would be happy to answer them for you, and I promise I won’t growl or answer in monosyllables.”
Kyra gestured to a pair of chairs nearby and nodded, a flash of insight coming to her as she watched Moira move. “I have a lot of questions actually. The first of which is, where is your son?”
Moira laughed. “Gareth is downstairs suffering through a very long, very detailed debriefing. He went a little off the reservation on this one, so he has some explaining to do.”
Kyra arched her brow. “Off the reservation?”
“He drugged a police office, stole some pizza delivery paraphernalia, racked up three red light camera violations in twenty-four hours, was caught on tape hurling someone into a building and then taking off at inhuman speeds, and oh yes, engaged in a physical confrontation in a public building with one of the most dangerous creatures we know of.” Moira shook her head. “You cannot imagine how much work it took to clean all that up.”
Her lips twitched, and Kyra barely choked back a snicker. “I am sure I have no idea. However, since he did all of that to keep me alive, I hope you’re not too hard on him.”
“He’ll survive.” Moira waved a hand. “The administrator will have her pound of flesh and he’ll be back up here to see you after dinner. I arranged for dinner to be delivered here if you don’t mind. I didn’t think you were quite up to a communal meal where everyone would be gawking at you.”
“Gawking?”
“You’re a bit of a celebrity, Kyra. This place is mostly used as a training base. The people here are not yet hunters, and you’ve been closer to their future prey than they have. Not to mention the fact you’ve captured the interest of the most notorious vampire around. Vlad hasn’t tried to claim a new consort in centuries, not since my great-grandmothe
r helped kill his last one.”
“What? Gareth never mentioned that!” Kyra leaned closer to Moira. “Actually, he’s been pretty vague on a lot of things. Vlad mentioned that your family couldn’t keep their women away from him, but Gareth didn’t explain.”
“You’ve read Dracula? Seen the movie?” Kyra nodded at the second question and Moira continued her explanation. “Well, the modern movie is close enough to the book for our purposes. Just take out the bits about the romance between Mina Harker and Dracula, which never happened. The story is more or less correct in the broad strokes, save for the ending. Dracula did not travel alone. He had his consort with him. She had been at his side for over two centuries as far as we can tell. When the great hunt took them all back to Transylvania and his castle, it was not Dracula that was killed, it was his Countess, Lisbeth Dolingen. Lies were told, tricks were performed, and Dracula faked his death. My great-grandmother Mina Harkness went on to live an apparently normal life until her son was born. Quincy was clearly more than human, and it was eventually determined that he was a dhampir. Mina hid the truth about Dracula’s death for years. She was still in his thrall but able to hide it. In the end, she turned and her family had to perform the rituals to prevent her coming back as a vampire herself. “
“Harkness? Not Harker?” Kyra’s eyes widened. “So, you and Gareth and Emily are…”
Moira finished her statement. “We’re their descendants. Dracula came back years later for revenge. He tried to kill Quincy and his wife. He managed to wound them both, but she went into early labour and gave birth to their son before dying of her injuries. Father and son were taken in by the Brotherhood. We have been part of the organization ever since, and none of us have crossed paths with Vlad until now. In an odd way, we’re his descendants, too.”
Kyra struggled to breathe, and she felt the blood drain away from her face as Moira’s simple observation echoed in her mind. “You’re his family,” she finally stated, unable to stop the sense of surreal horror that filled her.
“And I suspect that’s why my son didn’t tell you. He was afraid you’d react that way. Which is really to be expected given what you’ve been through. No one really understands it, but in some strange way, yes, we’re related to Vlad. His bite altered Quincy’s DNA while he was still in utero, and it doesn’t seem to breed out over the generations. But we are human, Kyra. We’re living, breathing beings, not monsters.” Moira reached out and squeezed Kyra’s hand. “Some of us are quite powerful, others almost completely normal. But all of us are dhampir. Natural-born vampire hunters. We’re nothing to be afraid of, I promise you.”
Kyra felt herself nodding. She knew Gareth wasn’t a monster. She’d felt the difference for herself.
“My son is one of the most powerful of our kind on record. It makes sense that if anyone would have a pheromonal response, it would be him.”
“Pheromonal response? Is that what blood bonding is?”
“We believe so, yes. It’s a biological reaction. Given how strong Gareth’s instincts run, he’s the closest thing to a vampire a dhampir can be, and given that he and Vlad are oddly linked, there is a certain logic to the fact you have affected them both.”
Kyra felt laughter bubbling up as the strangeness of this last bit of information pushed her perilously close to the giggles. “So, this whole nightmare is because I’m giving off a ‘come get me’ vibe that only Vlad and Gareth can sense? My life has been ruined by my personal perfume?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Kyra sat up straighter and gave Moira a broken grin, still laughing. “I’m glad someone finally explained that to me. I’ve been so busy trying to stay alive and sane, there hasn’t been any time to actually understand what in hell was happening. I feel better at least knowing I didn’t do anything to bring this on myself.”
Moira’s eyes lit up with obvious approval. “No doubt. And Gareth is not exactly the talkative type at the best of times. Which is why when he insisted someone stay with you, I volunteered. I thought you might have questions. And besides, I wanted to meet you. You are the one the fates picked out for my son, after all.”
She leaned closer and her voice lowered slightly. “If you do decide to bond with my son, you’ll find you never have to want for anything ever again. The Brotherhood take care of their own, very well. And as mothers-in-law go, I hope I won’t be too much of a pain in the ass.” Moira grinned. “Oh, and given the way you tossed that knife at me earlier? I think you’d make a hell of a hunter. Even if you don’t bond with Gareth, you might want to consider staying with us. You’d be welcome.”
“Gareth might kill me if I became a hunter,” Kyra muttered. “I already asked him about it and he got grumpy. Then he muttered something about understanding why you and his dad fought all the time about his going hunting with you.”
Moira laughed hard. “Oh, my. He does have it bad. I’m sorry, but I’ve waited a very long time for this day to come. Gareth is used to getting his own way in things, at least outside of his family. It comes with that big brooding stare of his. He just folds his arms across his chest and glowers until people give in to him. You set the ground rules now, Kyra, and he’ll learn to adjust.”
There was a soft knock at the door, and Moira went to open it. “I bet that’s dinner. Let’s eat and I’ll tell you about the Brotherhood.”
15
Vlad sucked air into his empty lungs as consciousness returned with the force of a tidal wave, slamming awareness into every cell and fiber of his being. Once the disorientation passed, he let his mind wander, searching for Kyra. Nothing. He focused his thoughts, and still there was no trace of her. His men had failed to capture her, then, or her mind would be wide open to him now.
He tried to reach her again and failed, eliciting a snarl of frustration. Where was she?
He rose from his bed and dressed with rare speed, driven by the desire to know what had happened, and who had failed him.
A soft moan drew his eyes back to the bed, to where his newly made toy, the lovely Dawn, was watched furtively from the tangle of sheets. “Hungry,” she mewled.
“Stay here, I’ll find you something to eat soon.” He tossed her the offhanded promise over his shoulder as he headed out of his personal cabin and into the main body of his private jet. It was his sanctuary and his freedom, decorated with every indulgence and luxury humanity could provide. Vlad ran a finger over a small glass sculpture, enjoying the lush lines and vibrant colours that danced through the piece like a frozen sunset.
His appearance summoned his staff from their duties nearby, and they greeted him, though he noticed their eyes slid past him, none of them daring to meet his gaze. He inhaled, the scent of bruised flesh and healing wounds tingling on his tongue.
Vlad growled low with anger as he took his place at the head of the elegant table he had installed for these meetings, his glacial stare raking over each of them in turn. “I need a full report, and will someone please find my new pet someone to snack on? She’s whining already.” A slender woman nodded once and nearly tripped over her own feet as she hurried to find a meal for their latest passenger, leaving the others to face their employer alone.
“What happened?” he demanded, his pale fingers flicking toward an empty chair where one of his newer soldiers should have been seated.
The head of his security spoke slowly, picking his words with care. “The capture attempt failed. Roberts has a head injury and hasn’t regained consciousness. We managed to get him back to the hotel before the police got hold of him. We were prepared for the hunter to be an issue, sir. However, it was the target that was the problem. She managed to break Yanos’s nose while resisting us. They escaped on foot shortly thereafter, and we have not been able to locate them.”
“I see. Three men against one small woman and she got away.” He snarled, his fangs fully revealed as glowered at his men.
Yanos’s hand went to the tape that crisscrossed his nose. “You didn’t tell us he was a dhampir
, and that little bitch had serious moves.”
The room went silent and every eye turned to Yanos as Vlad very slowly stood and came to stand behind him. “Did you just refer to my future consort as a bitch?” he asked in a voice that was colder than December sleet, his fingers caressing the man’s shoulder in an obscenely intimate gesture.
“I apologize.”
“Not good enough.” Vlad gripped the man by the shoulder and lifted him out of his chair, ignoring the squeals of pain as the bones ground together beneath his skin. “Sascha, forget the snack. Dawn won’t be needing it. I found her something to eat.” He carried Yanos across the cabin and tossed him through the door into his private quarters, slamming it shut behind him and cutting off the man’s terrified screams for mercy.
He returned to his chair and slid into it with casual grace. “I want my consort found, gentlemen.” He steepled his fingers in front of him on the blood-red wood of the table they sat around. “I want her found tonight. And no one is to disrespect her again. I won’t stand for disrespect. It’s a sign of a weak mind.”
“Yes, sir,” each of them responded in one voice.
There was a soft noise from the shadows, and another member of his team appeared. “I believe I know where your consort is, sir.” James’s voice was a harsh whisper that grated on the nerves of even the cold-blooded men and woman gathered in the room.
“Tell me how you know this when the others failed.” Vlad arched a dark brow.