Vaulcron stared at Hauke in disbelief. “You lied to me.”
“You disobeyed a direct order,” Klause growled, his cloak swirling out around him as he moved past his wife to approach Vaulcron.
Vaulcron was beyond caring what happened to him. With Mallory gone, he’d just as soon be beaten. In fact, that was exactly what he hoped the king did to him. No amount of physical pain would make him feel any worse than he already did. “Punish me.”
“You think I will not?” Klause snarled, his face mottled with anger.
“Please, Klause,” Abbie intervened, laying a hand on the king’s arm. “He’s not himself right now. Don’t do anything just yet.”
“It is fine, Abbie,” Vaulcron muttered in a weary tone. “I went to the States after my king forbade me to.”
Laurel sidled up to her mate’s side. “We are no longer in Aukrabah, my king. Perhaps we should be more concerned with surviving and keeping the children safe than punishing someone who disobeyed in an attempt to help us.”
Klause glanced down at his mate. “I grow weary of this crown, Laurel. But if I am to assure that we have a home and future, I must rule as a king and not a father.”
“But Vaulcron’s intentions were pure,” Naura pointed out. “He had hoped to show the land walkers that we are not responsible for the virus sweeping their land. And in return, they might leave us in peace.”
Tony’s arm went around his mate. “Naura’s right. If we can prove that the Bracadytes aren’t responsible for the deaths, while showing how the government has not only covered it up, but they have taken innocent lives to keep their secret from coming out, it could work in our favor.”
“That is what Mallory was attempting to do,” Vaulcron remarked, pushing his damp hair from his face. “Before…”
“Before what?” Laurel prompted, waving a hand for him to continue.
“It does not matter now.” Vaulcron met his father’s gaze. “I went against your orders and broke the Bracadyte law. I will take my punishment without any argument.”
Klause stared at Vaulcron for long moments before meeting the gazes of the small group rallied around him. His shoulders dipped in defeat. “I believe Laurel is correct. Change is happening around us, faster than we can process. If we do not evolve with it, we will become extinct.”
“Father?” Naura whispered, breaking away from Tony to face the king. “What are you saying?”
A sadness entered Klause’s eyes. “We were once a great race, my sweet Naura, our numbers equal to the stars. Until the time of the great flood. Many Bracadytes starved to death as food became scarce and what living things that survived in the seas had been tainted. Starvation turned brother against brother, wiping out clans by the thousands.”
Klause pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. “The land walkers eventually returned, bringing with them food and a new way of life. The Bracadytes and humans lived in harmony for a time, until a bloodthirsty Bracadyte began feeding from the land walkers against their will.”
“He killed them?” Naura asked, her eyes huge in her face.
“Not intentionally. His venom was used to paralyze them, to prevent them from fighting. The humans grew ill, and some of the elders did not survive.”
“Go on,” Abbie prompted when Klause paused.
He absently nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “According to the ancient scrolls, the humans gathered weapons and rose up against the remaining Bracadytes with a mighty army, killing them and burning them at the stake.”
“Oh, my God,” Abbie breathed. “Why did they burn them?”
Klause met her gaze. “To be certain they would not rise from the dead.”
Understanding dawned in Abbie’s eyes. “Like when Hauke washed up on shore. He was assumed dead on arrival, because of the lack of a pulse and the fact that he wasn’t breathing.”
Klause nodded. “The Bracadytes eventually separated from the humans. Migrating deeper into the seas, we continued to evolve. We lived in solitude until the old king spotted Aiyana gathering food on the gulf’s shore.”
“But history repeated itself,” Abbie pointed out. “The same thing happened again.”
“Yes,” Klause rumbled, blowing out a defeated breath. “It always does.”
Vaulcron touched his father on the arm. “It doesn’t have to. Humans have televisions in every home. They have the ability to record and transmit to the population at large.”
“The large screen in our room with the humans inside it?”
Vaulcron nodded. “They are not really inside it, Father. It is a transmission of video. Modern technology. Mallory created a video while she interviewed me. She intended to place it in the television, somehow, for all the world to see.”
“What kind of interview?” Tony quipped, his body tensing.
“The truth about the government’s cover-up. The murders, lies, and the CDC’s creation of the Incola virus. We also discussed how the Bracadytes are not a threat to society. That we want only peace, not war.”
Tony’s eyes widened. “Did she air it?”
Vaulcron shook his head. “We were taken hostage.”
“Where is the video now?” Tony pressed.
Vaulcron shrugged. “I am not certain. But the military is aware that it exists.”
“Shit,” Tony swore, running a hand through his short hair. “If Miss Cahill wasn’t a target before, she certainly is now.”
Vaulcron’s stomach dropped. “I have to find her.”
“Negative,” Klause barked. “You are not returning to the States, fili mi. You nearly died recently, attempting to escape there.”
“I love her, Father!”
The room went completely silent. All eyes were on Vaulcron.
Klause stepped in close, his nose nearly touching Vaulcron’s. “Is it not enough that your siblings have mated land walkers? You are to be king, my son. It is time that you start behaving as one.”
Vaulcron held his ground. “You need not concern yourself with my land walker, Father. She does not want me.” He spun on his heel and stormed off toward the stairwell.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mallory stared at herself in the mirror, relieved that she’d made it through the bridge checkpoints without a problem.
Her now short dark hair framed her face, transforming her into a stranger that even she didn’t recognize.
Clarence had dropped her off at the fishing cabin the night before with a promise to return in a couple days.
The small cabin was stocked with canned goods and bottled water. Coupled with the staples she’d picked up at the drug store in Pensacola, she should be fine for a while.
With trembling hands, Mallory picked up her disposable cell and dialed the Sentinel.
A feminine voice answered. “Destin Sentinel.”
“I need to speak with Mike Calhoun,” Mallory demanded with more confidence than she felt.
A sniff sounded in Mallory’s ear. “He’s in a meeting at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?”
Mallory saw red. She’d worked with Mike long enough to know how he operated. He was no more in a meeting than she was a true brunette. “I suggest you go get him. If he misses this story, it won’t be only your job that you lose. It’ll likely be your head as well.”
A long pause ensued. “Hold, please.”
Mallory blew out a nervous breath. She wasn’t sure if her threat would work or not. She’d half expected the woman to hang up on her.
“This is Calhoun.”
Mallory’s heart lurched at the sound of his voice. She swallowed back her fear and cleared her throat. “Mike? It’s Mallory. Before you say anything, are you someplace private where you can talk?”
“Hang on a second.”
She could hear the hum of voices in the media center grow distant before quieting altogether. “Jesus, Mallory. Your face has been all over the news for the past week. What kind of trouble are you in?”
“Big trouble, M
ike. But I have something that you may be interested in. It’s the story of a lifetime.”
He grew silent for a moment. “What kind of story?”
Mallory knew that would get his attention. Mike had been fighting his way up the corporate ladder for years. “It’s an interview I did with one of the aliens. I have a copy of it on disc.”
Referring to Vaulcron as an alien didn’t sit well with Mallory, but she had to remember who she was speaking to.
“Oh my God, Cahill. You met one of them?”
“I did.” Mallory spent the next fifteen minutes briefing Mike on everything that had happened since she’d began investigating the government cover-up.
“Why are you giving this to me?” Mike asked, suspicion evident in his voice.
“Because I can’t very well air it myself, now can I?”
“Where is the disc now?”
“In a safe place.”
“And you?”
Mallory closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Then how am I supposed to get it?”
“Go to the shipyard in Freeport. There’s a half-sunken boat tied to a dock right inside the entrance. Once you reach the end of that dock, look inside the broken window of the boat. The disc will be under a mildewed seat cushion.”
“Got it,” he murmured.
“And Mike?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t tell anyone that you have the disc. Make a copy of it and hide it in a place that no one will find it before you air the piece. Understood?”
“I don’t know how to thank you for this, Cahill.”
“Don’t thank me yet. One more thing, Mike. Can you get me a private number for Vice President Pratt?”
“What are you planning, Cahill? You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Then you’ll have my job.”
“Don’t be an ass,” Mike growled in a low tone.
“Will you please just get me the number? “
“Stand by. I’ll see what I can do.”
Minutes passed before Mike returned to the line. He rattled off the number to Vice President Pratt’s home.
“How in the hell did you get this so fast?”
“You have your ways,” Mike quipped. “I have mine.”
“I’ll owe you, Mike.” She hung up before he could question her further.
Mallory wandered into the small bedroom of the cabin and sat heavily on the foot of the bed.
She dialed the number Mike gave her before she changed her mind.
“Hello?” a female voice answered, soft and hesitant.
“Hi there. May I please speak to Vice President Pratt?”
“May I tell him who’s calling?”
“Mallory Cahill.”
“Ma—” the woman began before clearing her throat in obvious nervousness. “Just a moment.”
Mallory wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and waited for the vice president to pick up the phone.
“Miss Cahill?”
“Vice President Pratt?” Mallory could almost see her blouse thumping from the acceleration of her heartbeat. “I need your help, sir.”
He laughed without humor. “You are a fugitive, Miss Cahill. I couldn’t help you if I wanted to.”
Mallory ground her teeth, summoning up every ounce of bravado she possessed. “If you don’t help me now, millions of lives will be lost. Are you willing to accept that responsibility?”
He grew quiet. “I’m listening.”
“Can I trust you, sir?”
“I don’t know, Miss Cahill. It depends on what you tell me.”
“Can you come to Florida?”
“Now?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes. It’s a matter of life and death, sir.”
“Look, Miss Cahill. I can’t just up and fly to another state. Especially not alone. What you are asking is impossible.”
Anger surged. “Nothing is impossible, sir. Especially with the entire world at stake.”
“You said that already.”
“Listen to me,” she bit out. “Martin Raducha, head of the CDC, is responsible for the Incola virus. President Howell is involved as well and is helping him cover it up. They have kidnapped, murdered, and committed treason. When the evidence I have, airs on the news, Howell will be impeached, and you will step into office. I need you to be in office, sir. So many lives are depending on that.”
A loud sigh echoed in her ear. “I’ll have the jet fueled up. But I won’t be alone. The secret service is with me everywhere I go.”
“But—” Mallory began, only to be cut off.
“No buts. There’s no other way. Don’t worry; no one will be told your identity.”
Mallory knew it was the best she would get. “Okay.” She rattled off the address. “When will you be here?”
“Tonight.” The line went dead.
Mallory fell back on the bed and draped an arm over her eyes. Either Pratt would show up and help her, or he’d send in the cavalry and have her killed. She had no choice but to wait and see.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Naura burst through Vaulcron’s door without bothering to knock. “You are on the television, brother.”
Vaulcron sprang from the bed, grabbing the remote as he rushed across the room to the couch.
Abbie, Hauke, and Tony came barreling in as well, taking up every available seat in the room.
Vaulcron flipped on the television. “What channel is it on?”
“The American channel,” Oz announced, hurrying in and facing the big black screen. He glanced at Vaulcron. “Channel eight.”
Vaulcron scrolled to the correct channel, his jaw dropping when his face came into view on the screen.
His gut tightened with pain as Mallory’s voice echoed throughout the room, but nothing prepared him for the sight of her beautiful face.
Sorrow rolled through him like the waves of an ocean, sweeping back and forth and taking his breath.
Vaulcron bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from howling her name.
“She did it,” Tony blurted, pulling Vaulcron out of his grief-induced suffering. “Mallory Cahill, has just exposed the president of the United States. Holy shit, she’s a hero.”
“If she yet lives,” Vaulcron growled, jumping to his feet.
“She lives.”
The whispered words came from the open doorway. Every head in the room swung in that direction to find Amy standing just inside the room, her hand resting on Zaureth’s arm.
“You have spoken with her?” Vaulcron knew he sounded desperate, but he couldn’t keep the anguish from his voice.
Zaureth led Amy deeper into the room. She patted his hand before turning her gaze in Vaulcron’s general direction. “She is okay for now. She wanted me to tell you how sorry she is for everything, and that your people will be safe for the time being and better off in the long run now that she’s gone.”
Vaulcron’s heart felt as if it cracked in half. “She will not be returning, then.”
“It doesn’t look that way,” Amy admitted in a quiet voice. “I’m so sorry.”
Vaulcron glanced around at the somber faces scattered throughout his living quarters. “I would like to be alone.”
Everyone got up at once and filed toward the door. Zaureth and Amy were the last ones to leave. “Please don’t hate her,” Amy pleaded, moisture filling her light blue eyes. “She only did what she thought was best.”
Vaulcron fought his own emotional battle. “I do not hate her, Amy. She is my heart. My mate. She left me to return to her world. A world that has no place for me. Now, I must try to find a way to survive, to live without her.”
Zaureth guided an obviously distraught Amy into the hall, closing the door behind them and leaving Vaulcron alone to grieve in privacy.
He sat back down in front of the television, watching as the faces of Incola victims filled the big screen.
Vaulcron had never witnessed anything
like it. The blood-filled eyes, blisters, and yellowing skin took away from their humanity somehow, leaving them skeletons of rotted flesh and death rattles.
He switched off the television, imaging Mallory back in the States, dwelling among the sick ones. What if she somehow came in contact with that virus? She had no protection against it and would surely die if she became infected.
Vaulcron ran a hand through his hair and headed for the door. He would go after Mallory whether she wanted him or not. Once the danger had passed, he would let her go, if she so desired. Until then? She would stay by his side.
He stalked down the stairs, bursting into the lobby and nearly running into Tony.
“Don’t do it, Vaulcron. They’ll be expecting you this time. You’ll never make it to shore.”
Vaulcron’s lips peeled back over his fangs. “I have to go. Mallory is completely alone out there. She needs my help.”
“You can’t expect to just arrive on the beach and snatch her up, Vaulcron. You don’t even know where she is.”
Vaulcron pinned Tony with an angry stare. “If it were Naura out there. What would you do?”
Tony closed his eyes in defeat. “Fine. But I’m coming with you.”
“No,” Vaulcron snarled, “I go alone.” He pushed past Tony and stormed out the double doors toward the beach beyond. He had a long swim ahead of him, and he’d wasted enough time already.
Oz lounged on the beach, swinging his leg from the side of a reclining chair as Vaulcron arrived at the water’s edge.
Vaulcron took a breath for patience as the native Cuban straightened to his full height. Being only a couple of inches shorter than Vaulcron, Oz wouldn’t have trouble intimidating a normal man. Not Vaulcron. “What are you doing out here, Oz?”
“Waiting for you.”
“If you think to stop me from leaving, it will not work.”
Oz held up a small set of keys. “I am not here to stop you, Vaulcron. I’m here to give you a ride.”
Vaulcron eyed the keys. Taking the boat would get him to Florida a lot faster than swimming. “Okay. I do not want you endangered, Oz. If you would take me as far you can while sailing under their radar, I would much appreciate it. Are you ready?”
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