Taking a single step backward, ignoring the look of triumph in Sorley’s eyes, he reached over and grabbed Garrick’s belt knife, rammed the blade deep between his own ribs, and twisted. It hurt like hell, but blood poured out, and the pain disappeared beneath a wave of relief as his lung expanded and his vampire blood began to heal the injuries that had caused the collapse in the first place. With his first full breath, Quinn reached for the deadly magic that was his alone. Letting his power swell, he fed the fire that lived in his soul from an ember to a searing flame, letting it grow until it was eating him alive, hungry for fuel, and demanding to be set free.
Sorley had switched out his attack, withholding his magic, which used far more power, and substituting a physical assault instead. Furniture, wall hangings, and elaborate works of art flew through the air in a whirlwind of debris as Quinn strode closer, Sorley’s eyes widening in surprise at the speed of his recovery.
The debris stopped as Sorley changed his tactics yet again, pausing as if to regroup and gather his strength, before Quinn could renew his attack. But it was too late. Stopping two deliberate steps away, Quinn reached deep, and freed the ravenous flames building inside him. Fire spilled from every pore, surrounding him, caressing him like a lover, before stretching out its fingers to feed. Whatever, whomever, it touched, burned. Sorley’s guards, caught up in the maelstrom, screamed, batting at flames that wouldn’t go out, while the fire leapt from chair to cloth to curtain, threatening to take the entire house along with it.
Quinn was lost in the beauty of his power, the elegance of the flames as they swirled around him in a deadly dance. He was aware of Sorley stumbling backward, staring in horror as the deadly flames swayed closer. Until a new troop of vampire guards arrived with a raw shout of defiance. Rushing in to protect their master, they formed a barrier of flesh and power between Quinn and Sorley, as the vampire lord ran.
Quinn hated killing vampires like this, fighters who were merely doing their duty. But he had to get to Sorley before the old lord could escape and regroup. If that meant going through these guards, he’d do it. He made an effort to pull back his power, to dampen the flame so it would injure but not destroy, until, one by one, he and his fighters took out or immobilized every vampire who stood in their way.
Finally racing down a long hall and out through a side door, he threw back his head and howled when he found Sorley gone, along with at least some of his strongest warriors, Lorcan probably among them.
Quinn’s furious howl sent a whirlwind of power roaring through the neighborhood. Trees bent, branches cracked, and car alarms went off up and down the street as he stormed back into the house, searching for someone who could tell him where the vampire lord had gone. This was Sorley’s territory, his land. He could have a bolt hole anywhere on the damn island, where he could draw power to help him heal and strengthen himself for the next battle.
Aware of the flames still licking at his soul, Quinn forced himself to take it down a notch, before he burned one of his own people in a fit of frustration. He was still focusing on dousing the fire, when Garrick approached, dragging a burley vampire by one arm. The vamp was badly burned, half his jaw nearly gone, but his eyes gleamed red with the power of a low level vamp, and they were filled with rage as he glared at Quinn.
“Who’s this?” Quinn asked.
“Guard Captain,” his cousin provided. “I caught him and these others trying to sneak a car out of the garage.” He jerked his head sideways, indicating two other low-level vamps, both of whom had their hands bound behind their backs with heavy-duty cuffs that only worked because the vampires were injured.
“Captain,” Quinn said slowly. “It seems you’ve been abandoned by your master. Where’d he slither off to, do you think?”
“Fuck you,” the vamp captain snarled.
“Wrong answer.” Quinn slammed a fist into the vampire’s chest and ripped out his heart, squeezing it between his fingers with a sizzle of power, before dropping it to the floor and turning to the next vampire. “You’re next. Where’d Sorley go?”
The vamp was visibly trembling, bloody sweat rolling down the sides of his face from his forehead. “I don’t know, my lord, I swear.”
Quinn narrowed his eyes in frustration. The vampire was telling the truth, as was the next one, when the question was put to him. A different sort of fire burned in Quinn’s gut as he fought to keep his temper under control. Sorley was not going to walk away from this. If he escaped tonight, he’d hide somewhere in the countryside, rebuilding his base, harboring his strength until he was ready to attack again. He had an advantage over Quinn. He knew Ireland better, knew the small towns, the secret backroads and hideouts. Places he could rest and recuperate, gathering his supporters until he was ready to reclaim his throne. It could be days, weeks, even months. And it was intolerable.
As long as Sorley lived, even in hiding, Quinn couldn’t seize the territory. It would tear Ireland’s vampires apart if he tried to rip them from Sorley’s living hand. That wasn’t the way he wanted to begin his reign as Lord of Ireland.
“Fuck!” He kicked a delicate table, shattering its spindly legs and splitting the rest into so much kindling for the flames.
A sudden squeal of tires, along with shouts among his fighters, had him spinning for the front door, ready for a fight. But it wasn’t an enemy who stormed up the stairs. It was the redheaded hunter who’d stolen his heart.
“Eve? What are you doing here?”
“QUINN!” EVE WAS so happy to see him standing there, all strong and healthy, that she wanted to throw her arms around him in relief. But mindful of the situation and their audience, she pulled back, her arms stiff and her hands fisted with the effort to restrain herself. Walking right up to him, she nearly missed a step at the sight of his blood-soaked shirt. Her eyes met his. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
He nodded grimly. “I handled it. What are you doing here?”
She winced, suddenly unsure. “I came to warn you.”
He scowled. “About what?”
“About all of this.” She gestured helplessly at the vampires running around in controlled chaos of the big house behind them. “Cillian was waiting for me at my mother’s house.”
Quinn frowned. “Who’s Cillian?”
Eve grimaced. She probably should have mentioned this before. “He’s the other vampire who killed my brother. Him and Barrie Meaney.”
Quinn’s eyes narrowed, as he closed his hand over her nape and pulled her close. “We’ll talk later about your tendency to keep secrets. Are you all right? And your mother?”
Eve let her head fall forward to hit his shoulder. She’d be strong again in just a minute, but for now. . . . She let herself lean on him for that instant of time, soaking up the heat and strength of him, feeling his other arm come around her, feeling safe for the first time in longer than she could remember. A single tear rolled down her cheek, soaking into his bloodied shirt.
“Eve?”
There was concern in his voice, but also a gentle reminder of where they were and who was watching. She nodded her head and pushed away from him, ending the moment. “Cillian’s dead. So’s the vamp he had with him.” She shrugged. “I don’t know his name. Mac—”
“Dead . . . what the fuck happened?”
“They knew I was going to be there, and—”
“Who’s they? And how the hell—”
“My mother,” she said simply, trying to keep the emotion from her voice and knowing she failed when Quinn grabbed her hand and dragged her into the house, turning into the first open room and slamming the door behind him, leaving the two of them alone. Quinn didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask permission or give her a chance to resist. He simply wrapped her in his arms, and held her so tightly, she couldn’t have broken free if she’d wanted to. Which she didn’t.
“Talk to me
, sweetheart.”
“I don’t know where to start. I just—”
“Tell me what happened. Start at the beginning.”
He was still holding her, his words a warm rumble against her ear, her own muffled by the hard muscles of his chest. The blood-stiffened fabric scraped against her cheek, and she frowned, shoving him away, running her hands over his chest, pulling his shirt up over what should have been an expanse of ridged muscle and smooth skin, and finding a mass of bruises instead. “What the hell? What is this?”
He grabbed her wrists to stop her, then ran his hands up to hold her arms. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Sorley and I did each other a lot of damage, but when he realized he was about to lose, he threw a bunch of vampire guards at me and ran. We’re trying to find him, so I can finish this. Now, tell me what happened, Eve. Is your mother safe?”
“Safe.” She bit off the word with a bitter laugh. “You know . . . I’m barely welcome in her house, her own daughter. But she invited that murdering bastard in, the same vampire who killed the son she claims to have loved so much.”
Quinn shook his head, as if to clear it. “I don’t. . . . Eve, you’re not—”
“They claimed they were local lads—Cillian and some other vampire. They pretended to be worried for her safety since, as they said, I was fucking a vampire and you’d probably turned me by now. They told her that whenever I came for a visit, my mam should call them, for her own protection,” she ended bitterly.
“Did your mother know Cillian personally? Why would she—”
“No. I think that must have been the other vamp, the one Cillian brought with him. He looked familiar, but I didn’t get a good look at him before. . . . Well, it doesn’t matter now. They’re both dead.”
“And your mother?”
“Oh, she’s alive and well. But dead to me.”
“I’m sorry, Eve. I swear I didn’t know they’d try—”
“Of course, you didn’t,” she interrupted. “That was the whole point. They were there to kidnap me to use against you. Not great planning on their part, since all of this”—she gestured around them—“was apparently going down at the same time. But all I could think was that we had to get back here to—”
He grinned. “To warn me. You were worried.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So, fine,” she snapped. “I was worried. For nothing, as it turns out.” She twisted out of his arms. Or at least she tried to.
Quinn held on tight, forcing her to look up at him or be suffocated against his stupidly gorgeous chest. “It wasn’t for nothing,” he said, meeting her gaze. “Thank you. And, Eve,—” He waited until she was looking up at him again, meeting his eyes. “I love you, too.”
Tears flooded her eyes turning everything into a blur of crystalline images. Furious with herself, she thumped a fist against his chest and wished she could tell him he was full of shit. That she didn’t love him any more than he really did her. But damn if she could say it.
“I’m an idiot,” she whispered. “Falling for a damn vampire. What kind of life can we—”
Quinn was smiling, completely missing her point. Didn’t he understand? He was going to live forever, while she’d grow old and wrinkled. How much would he love her then? And how long could they possibly have before that happened? Ten years, maybe less, before he wanted a younger woman, someone fresh and new. Not one whose skin was beginning to sag, who had to work twice as hard to keep her muscles firm, had to dye her hair against the encroaching gray . . .
“Eve, darling, you’re thinking way too hard. We’ll talk vampire lovers later. Right now, I have to find Sorley. Like yesterday. My people are spreading out over the city—”
“Doolin,” she said in sudden realization. “Doolin,” she repeated, seeing Quinn’s puzzled look. “I followed him there several times when I was looking for Barrie and Cillian. I didn’t know their names, yet, but I knew they worked for him, and . . . and don’t give me that look. I’m still alive and in better shape than you, I might add.”
Quinn scowled, but made a rolling gesture with his hand, telling her to continue. “What about Doolin? Where is that, anyway?”
“Southwest of Dublin, near the Cliffs of Moher on the west coast. You’ve heard of those?”
“Right. Okay. Why the hell would Sorley go there so often?”
“Well, shit, Quinn. I don’t know. I couldn’t exactly ask around about him, could I?”
He gave her dark look. So much for the lovey-dovey stuff.
“I think he has family there,” she admitted. “You should ask Mac. He might—” But Quinn was already gone, yanking the door open and shouting for someone to find Mac.
“YES, MY LORD,” Mac told Quinn. “Lord Sorley, that is, er—”
“I don’t give a fuck about titles,” Quinn snapped. “Just tell me what you know.”
“He has family in Doolin. His mother’s people, I think. And a house. He sends money once a month to cover expenses, and they make sure it’s ready whenever he wants to visit.”
“Why go there at all?”
“I can’t say for sure. I was only his bookkeeper. But . . . I think he keeps a woman in Cardiff.”
“Cardiff?” Quinn repeated in surprise. “Well, fuck, that makes no sense. Doolin’s hardly the best jumping off point for Wales.”
“No,” Mac agreed, “but if he wanted to keep his absence from Ireland a secret . . .”
Quinn pondered the idea. “Maybe. He goes to visit family and sneaks away for a quickie in Cardiff. Shit.” He scowled, thinking. “Is there an airport near—”
“He has a helicopter, my lord.”
Quinn regarded Mac silently. “Way to bury the lead. Where’s he keep the chopper? Dublin? Fuck. He might already be—”
“No, my lord, in Doolin. He’ll have to drive that far, but once—”
“Once he’s in Doolin, he can hop on his helicopter and be off to who knows where,” Quinn finished grimly. “How far to Doolin from here? How long?”
“At this time of night, two and half hours? Maybe three if they want to avoid getting nicked for speeding.”
“Garrick!” Quinn shouted, “Get Lucas’s man Ronan on the line. It’s time for him to choose.”
Five minutes later, Garrick handed him a phone. “Ronan, my lord.”
Quinn nodded grimly and took the phone. “Ronan. I need a helicopter. Now.”
“My lord, I don’t—”
“Bullshit. You have one hidden in that big barn on the edge of your property, and you have three different vampires on staff who can fly it. I need it in Dublin.”
“When?” Ronan asked, with a resigned sigh.
“If you want this takeover to succeed, you’ll have it here five minutes ago.”
“I’ll need to call—”
“Don’t bother. I’ll call Lucas myself. You get that thing in the air.” He disconnected and handed the phone back to Garrick. “Find Lucas for me. As a courtesy,” he added.
Garrick laughed, then turned away and started punching in numbers.
“You’re going to Doolin?”
Eve’s voice had Quinn spinning around, taking her hand, and pulling her with him as he strode out to one of his two Range Rovers. He opened the back cargo door, yanked a small, black duffle closer, and began rummaging inside it. “That’s where Sorley is,” he said.
“I’m going with you.”
Quinn lifted his head and drew breath to argue with her, but then, seeing her determined glare, he crooked his lips into a half-smile. “Okay,” he agreed and had to swallow a laugh at her look of surprise. “You’re the one who figured out where Sorley would go, and you’re decent with a crossbow, even if—”
“I don’t need a crossbow anymore. This works much better.” She pulled a 9mm Sig from a pocket
in her jacket, checked the safety, and then expertly flipped the weapon around to hand it to him butt first.
Quinn examine the gun quickly. Bell had told him about the weapon. It was small, probably considered a micro-compact, but a good fit for Eve’s smaller hand. He popped the magazine. “You re-loaded,” he murmured. “Good girl.” He laughed at her look of outrage over his comment and handed the gun back. “Have you been holding out on me, Eve?”
“No,” she said defensively. “I’ve had the gun awhile, but I never used it except on the range, because I couldn’t get the right ammo until—”
He raised one eyebrow. “When?”
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“No one’s in trouble,” he said patiently. “Just tell me.”
“Well, the other day, after we . . . um, anyway. You went off to do your vampire sleep thing, and I was talking to Joshua Bell, and he . . .” She scowled at him. “Well, what did you think? That I was going to hang around eating bonbons all day? Maybe read poetry in the garden?”
Quinn fought back a grin at the image. “Hardly,” he said dryly, enjoying her description too much to admit that Bell had cleared it with him before he’d supplied Eve with the ammunition. “Can you shoot that thing?”
“Absolutely. How do you think I killed Cillian and his buddy?”
That image drained away every ounce of humor he’d found in the situation. “All right. Do you need more ammo?”
She shook her head. “I have my own supply.”
Quinn grabbed the back of his bloody and torn T-shirt, yanked it off over his head, and tossed it into the cargo compartment. Next, he grabbed a bottle of water from his duffel and poured it over his chest, using a towel to wipe away the worst of the blood and dry himself off. His side ached a little, but that wouldn’t last much longer. Digging out a clean T-shirt, he pulled it over his head and turned to find Eve watching with an appreciative gleam in her eye.
Quinn (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 12) Page 34