by Loni Lynne
Perhaps their occupation with their individual companies, Livedel and Eskardel, had taken away their casual time together. Even after the merger of the companies back in the sixties, Draylon had taken more time with pharmaceutical research. He found himself more engrossed in the changes in medicine, especially those that helped during wartime efforts.
Rick's focus, in the last decade of the twentieth century had turned entirely on the running of Livedel. Even from Dacia he'd buried himself in keeping close tabs on the Maryland headquarters and its people. He'd been obsessed.
Draylon wondered if it could have been because of him. He'd buried himself in the knowledge and in procuring the pharmaceuticals to help out those who'd suffered at the hands of Vamier on the battlefields. The few who'd found their way to a safe transition, like Ballue, needed medical, psychological and environmental health and he was happy to help them.
One of his greatest accomplishments of late, his discoveries to produce medicines and techniques to help soldiers and veterans deal with PTSD. He'd started working with his friend Mike Linder back when they'd found him in Vietnam and the horrible memories he still faced. It never went away, but learning how to deal with the past and move on to the future was a big part of recovery. The difficult part of being immortal—you never forgot and age never changed to let you forget. Had his and Rick's individual fixations on their own companies created the slow moving rift between them? They were still friends but the difference in their unique relationship had definitely changed.
Donovan entered his office, and Draylon looked up from the paperwork he was attempting to catch up on.
"How is she?"
"Sleeping again." Donovan set down the tray with the decanter of wine. He lifted the stopper and poured a glass. "You can't keep her in a drug induced fog forever, Draylon. You of all people should know that. Isn't it you who tells your patients to 'face your fears and move on'?"
"This is different, Donovan." He swirled the wine in his goblet. "I don't think she's been properly prepared for what she's going through, and there is no one who can help her. We haven't had a female shifter since the curse. I don't know where she came from. How do I explain something I don't understand myself?"
"So what do you intend to do in the meantime?"
"My only two options? Keep her human as long as possible and make sure she doesn't change, at least until Rick figures out what to do. Or," Draylon paused, curling his face in frustration.
"Or?"
"Keep Sleeping Beauty asleep as long as I can."
Chapter Seven
Pacing the confines of her rooms, Marilyn felt like a caged animal. She wanted out but had nowhere to go. She'd been given every courtesy by Donovan, yet it seemed like days since she'd seen Draylon. Donovan informed her that he had business to catch up on and for her to rest and relax.
Relax? She couldn't relax. She paced to the open living space decorated in simplistic yet elegantly detailed furniture and fixtures. The Tudor-style windows looked out onto Austrian mountains and sharp jagged cliff edges, a clear sign that she couldn't escape.
"Would you care for a selection of movies or books? Draylon's procured quite a collection over the years."
"No," Marilyn growled. She sighed. Poor Donovan didn't need to take the brunt of her foul mood. "No…thank you, Donovan," she gentled her voice.
He didn't take offense. "A game of backgammon or cribbage perhaps? Or would you prefer a game of chess? I could use a good challenger."
She'd learned how to play chess from Francis, her old nanny. The woman had been a blessing for her and her mother. Growing up, Marilyn learned so many skills from her, cooking, baking, domestic skills and reading, writing, not to mention chess, rummy and the occasional poker game for spiced gumdrops. Years later, Marilyn taught Tina how to play chess, and at times, when nothing else appealed to them for entertainment, they'd enjoyed a good, strategic game while indulging in gumdrops.
Marilyn shrugged her shoulders. "Sure. I'll play chess."
Setting up the mahogany pedestal board beside the window, flanked by two matching Victorian era gaming chairs, Marilyn went about placing the Italian marble pieces and commenced trying to best Donovan for the next two hours.
"I do believe we are at a stalemate, Miss Marilyn," Donovan noted after a long moment of perusing the pieces they had left.
"It does appear that way. Shall we call it a draw?"
He studied it again, as if he may have missed a crucial move. "I concede. You are a worthy opponent." He let out a breath as he stood and stretched in his formal jacket. "I must attend to my duties and go to the kitchen to make you dinner. What would you like?"
"Steak…rare. And if you have them…gumdrops."
"Tartar it is. I don't know if we have gumdrops, but I'll see." Donovan nodded with a brief smile and left her to go prepare her steak.
Marilyn watched him leave, closing the door behind him as he always did. It would be useless to try the door, he always locked it. But as usual she checked it anyway.
To her amazement and shock, the door clicked open into a large hall or room fit for a king's court. Sparse in décor, the deep cherry inlay floor gleamed from the late afternoon light coming in through the large windows. The ceiling of the room appeared to be at least a good thirty-feet high with gleaming mahogany woodwork, trim and crown molding. Black iron sconces and chandeliers lit up the walls and ceiling with artificial candlelight.
Nibbling her bottom lip, she checked for possible trouble and snuck out into the grand hall, crossing the massive room to the other side where a series of double doors opened into the rest of the grand house. One set was open. It must be where Donovan had gone.
On bare feet, Marilyn tiptoed to the open door and took another peek. A grand wooden staircase led to another upper floor and the lower main floor. She wandered out and looked over into the lower level. A grand foyer with massive black doors must lead to the outdoors.
She would sneak down and map out her escape for later.
At the bottom of the steps, dark wood paneled hallways stretched on for eternity—on both sides of the foyer. She wanted to explore the hall but her main concern right now was the door and her chance for freedom.
Standing in front of the behemoth doors, she realized there was no way in hell she could open them. They had to weigh a ton or more a piece. Perhaps they were on some remote control system but other than an alarm system on the wall she didn't see one. She shrugged, and maneuvering the large door handle of heavy wrought iron, she pulled. The door opened with amazing grace. No squeaking of hinges or groaning of metal. Snow covered open land surrounded by a dark forest of snow powdered fir pines. No grand circular drives or fountains spewing water and colored lights, just empty, pristine grandeur as far as the eye could see. If this was the front of the house and her side of the house encompassed the sheer cliffs and mountain sides, then how did people get up here?
There had to be a way. She'd gotten here—somehow. She couldn't remember. She awoke the other morning and she was already here. Feeling even more trapped than she had up in her suite of rooms, Marilyn wanted answers and she wanted them now. Screw being locked up anymore.
She went in search of the one man who could tell her what she needed to know…Draylon.
Ending the conference call with his contact for the hemoglobin clinic in Baltimore, Draylon informed Rick of the latest news on Vamier's dealings with their supply banks. Someone had masterminded an illegal distribution from the Greater Baltimore Blood Bank. Which if history served to repeat itself, meant they were about to recruit a whole new family of vampires in the states.
The only time there was questionable activity within the blood banks Vamier owned, was when things were about to go down. There weren't any battlefields on North American grounds though. No wars, no mass riots, who were they going after that would agree to their conditions?
"Yeah, I'm getting the news on it, too," Rick said when he picked up the
line. He connected his computer screen link to Draylon's large monitor up on his office wall. It showed a detailed map of the world and where vampire units amassed at any given time. The more numbers in a unit, the more trouble was about to happen.
"What do you think? Any clue why they're raiding in the United States?"
"The only thing I can possibly think of is a recent outcropping of vampire-wannabes. The media and entertainment industry seem to enjoy romanticizing the whole Gothic scene. Last decade it was vampires being interviewed. This decade, it's sparkling young, moody immortals. We need to be prepared this All Hallows Eve. I'm thinking we need to keep all clans notified of any possible sightings or hearing anything through the networks."
"Do we have anyone in the blood banks we could use to possibly be on look out?" Draylon asked. It was good to have members in areas of importance, but it could also be an issue when Vamier's goons got too close.
"Let me look," Rick paused.
Draylon knew he had sources all over the world. Rick's connections went deep and wide and with a touch of a few keys on his computer, he could tell you where every single contact was at any given moment.
"We have one I think I can leverage," Rick responded.
"What do we have?"
"We have a human counterpart working for the Greater Baltimore Blood Bank. I think I can get them to head the division in Frederick, Maryland."
"Anything they can do?"
"I think so. They have family working for Livedel so it shouldn't be an issue to keep an eye on the dealings there. They've been taking care of the accounts for the whole division for over two years. I'll look into it and let you know." A deep sigh was followed by the sounds of keyboard clicking. "Who do we have in the vicinity of Baltimore-Washington D.C. area that could keep the accountant safe in case things get tricky?"
"You're asking me? You know the clan better than I do—wait, Mike Linder is out in that area. I'll have him posted and give him the low-down on the guy."
"Um…one small problem. Our connection at the blood bank isn't a guy. We are dealing with a Ms. Christina Johnston, Jon and Kay Johnston's daughter."
Draylon's flat screen went blank for a moment as Rick brought up a photo of a young blonde woman. Christina Johnston, bookkeeper for the Greater Baltimore Blood Bank system.
"You want to explain why you happen to have my friend's picture on your monitor?"
Draylon whirled around in his chair to see a pissed off Marilyn Reddlin standing barefoot in his office doorway. How the hell did she get out of her room?
"Do you want to explain what the hell is going on, or do I start some major shit, asshole!"
"Who is that, Draylon?" Rick's voice echoed over the intercom.
"Marilyn Reddlin," she replied for Draylon. "And who the hell are you to have pictures of my friend?"
"I happen to be Rick Delvante, owner of Livedel and your boss, Miss Reddlin."
"Good to know…because unless you two tell me why you are keeping tabs on Tina and I'm being held captive in this castle prison, I'm going to start some shit with harassment on the job. The EEO will have a three course meal with your ass."
"Deal with her, Draylon," Rick commanded and turned off all communications.
Deal with her? What the hell was he supposed to do?
She entered the office all the way, pacing menacingly in front of his large desk, trapping him. He tried to present a nonchalant reaction to her anger. But the heat she emitted had him wishing to sink into her on such a basic level that his dick ached for the first time in years.
Her body had filled out, toned up in a natural state of change. Her denim jeans that had bagged around her recently now hugged her curves and the simple long sleeved t-shirt she wore showed off her breasts to perfection. She was muscle and sinew and strength wrapped up in a deadly shifter. So far she didn't remember ever shifting. Some neurological process kept her knowledge of her change at bay…for now. He hoped to the gods she didn't know just how deadly she could be.
"I'm waiting…"
"What do you want to know first?"
"Everything. Start at the beginning."
"Too much to tell." It was the truth. "But I'll tell you what you need to know…"
"I want all of it. And if I find out you're lying to me, you won't have a prayer mister."
This was a new side to her. She may be just as bad-assed as her mother after all. Could it be her metamorphosis having some effect on her? Maybe she did know how deadly she could be?
"Fine. But you may not like what you hear," Draylon teased to try to lighten the mood.
"Just tell me and stop beating around the bush. Who are you, really?"
"Draylon Conier." She raised an eyebrow to indicate she wanted more information. "I started the pharmaceutical branch to Livedel years ago, back after World War I."
"Bullshit. I happen it know it was started by Marcus Adranitti from Naples. He joined with Mr. Delvante in the late sixties."
"Marcus was my identity back then." Draylon reached into his file drawer, and pulling out a file folder, pushed it towards her on his desk. She looked at him and then at the file. "Go ahead. Read it."
She picked it up tentatively. Opening the file she studied the insides. He already knew what was in there. It was up to her to believe it.
Marilyn sat down heavily in the nearby leather chair. She shook her head. "No. This can't be…this is you? And…look. It's Momma Kay and Papa Jon when they were younger—You know the Johnstons?" she asked.
He could only nod.
"This is all a set up, isn't it? You're holding me hostage—why?"
Draylon raised his hands. "No. It's not what you think. Rick had me track you down and keep you safe. That is the gods' truth. I didn't know you were wanted by Vamier. When I found out, Rick wanted me to keep you someplace safe."
"Safe from Professor Vamier?" she asked. "Is this place safe?"
"The only place safer is the Dacian Compound."
"Where is that?"
"It's in the Hoia Forest area near Cluj-Napoca."
She stood up and threw the file back on his desk. "That just happens to be where my father disappeared nearly twenty-six years ago. Pretty coincidental don't you think?"
He felt the same way but had no answers. When he'd asked Rick about it his friend said he'd look into it.
"I know. I'm trying to see what I can find out about your father's disappearance, but you may not like the news."
"Why?"
"Most people who venture into the Hoia Forest don't return."
"But the Dacian Compound is there. How do they survive?"
"The Dacians survive because they don't let anyone know of their whereabouts. Those that come too close end up…disappearing."
"You mean dead."
"It's the only way our kind can survive."
"And your kind is what, special?" Marilyn snorted sarcastically.
"We're immortal…."
Chapter Eight
Stunned, Marilyn sat. Immortal? As in, never aged, never died…creatures of the night. She looked at the file folder still sitting there on the desk. The picture was him, decades ago, only looking like he did now. Still the same.
"How old are you?"
Draylon smiled and leaned back in his chair. "I was born in what you would consider 750 B.C."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No. I'm afraid not." He laughed. "My land was called Dacia at the time…"
"Before the Roman conquest. You are one of the original clans?"
"There are more of us. It's difficult to explain, but we reside all over the world, separately, keeping our lives private for many centuries, but recently we have committed part of our knowledge and abilities in helping our brethren human counterparts."
"Under the radar, I assume?"
"Yes. You might consider us a 'secret society.' Our confidentiality must remain though. People are not ready to come to terms with
what we are."
Marilyn looked away. She understood their needs for secrecy, but did they have to kill to keep it? She had no doubt her father must have come in contact with them and been "taken care of."
"Would you know if my father was one of those who were killed in order to keep your secrets?"
Draylon sighed. His eyes took on a weary, heart-felt sadness. "There are ways to find out, and I will for your sake, but you must understand our need to remain anonymous."
"I do understand. I just want closure—and don't let my mom know the truth, she'll raise all kinds of hell. As long as I can tell her something, perhaps have his remains so we can have a proper burial, it might help her to finally heal."
"Closure, of course. Again, I will see what I can do."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." He smiled, his eyes never leaving hers.
It was uncomfortable, his continued stare. So she did what she usually did when encountering such a moment. She crossed her eyes and twisted her lips into a funny face. Draylon cocked his head at her and then laughed—a real gut busting laugh. The first one she'd heard from him.
Her heart beat erratically, making her flush. The deep rumbling from his chest had sparked warmth into her the likes no other man had done. Daniel never made her feel this safe, this free, and she thought she'd known him. This mysterious, immortal man was so out of her league, and yet he was the one to make her want to know him better.
"Do you always make faces when you are in discomfort?" he asked once his laughter settled.
"It tends to break the tension."
"And you are tense? Do I make you uncomfortable?"
Marilyn shrugged. "I guess you could say, I'm leery of you. But truthfully, and I don't know why, I feel good when I'm around you. It shouldn't make any sense at all. You're immortal after all. You can read my mind—"
"Not all the time. You are safe for the most part. For some reason I cannot delve into your mind like I am used to with women. You could say you are unique."