Mortal Bite (Golden Vampires of Tuscany)

by Sharon Hamilton

  “You stay back. You’re a primary target,” Lionel said.

  “Nope. I’m going in with the rest of you.”

  “That’s what they want. That’s why they have her.”

  “Not an option.”

  Lionel sighed and spoke into his microphone. “On my mark.”

  Before he could give the order, Paolo heard Cara’s scream and then the distinctive shrill voice of Dag Nielsen.

  “Oh lover boyyyyy. She needs you. Come in and she won’t be harmed, any further, that is. Your lovely beauty has just lost her right eye.”

  Paolo was furious and immediately traced to inside the warehouse. He saw Cara’s face, with both her eyes intact. But her neck had been sliced open and her blood was spurting in a light fan spray all over the concrete floor. Dark vamps around the warehouse were smacking their lips.

  “Oops. I lied,” Dag said as a net of silver with a restraining charge fell over Paolo’s body, immobilizing him.

  The SEALs led by the Jett brothers traced inside and began engaging the dark guards.

  “Stop!” screamed Dag. “I have Paolo and the girl. What are you fighting for?”

  Dag was hit with automatic machine gun fire and he laughed as he saw smoke erupt from his chest. “Silver bullets? You found silver for those?” He was distracted momentarily by the fact that the person who had fired the shots was Shirley. “Well, I guess you didn’t miss me, then.”

  Shirley fired off another set of rounds but Dag had traced to right next to her. This allowed Jeb to overcome the guard next to Dag and release Cara’s bonds.

  But Dag was not going to die. “You’ll pay for that, and slowly,” he said to her. Dag traced several feet away, dragging Shirley by the hair. He landed next to Paolo’s net before any other rounds could hit him. Shirley was on him, was carving up his stomach with a KA-BAR knife she’d pulled from her boots.

  “Fucking little twat,” Dag said as he got hold of her neck. Shirley’s arms and legs were flying around wildly, trying to find something to connect with. “Go ahead,” Dag said calmly while he battled with Shirley with one arm. “You see, it isn’t as easy as you thought to kill me. And if you do, you’ll kill Paolo too, and this little lady, although I’m tiring of this game.” Dag swung Shirley’s body through the air, slamming her against the corrugated metal of the warehouse, where she lay motionless until Dag kicked her aside.

  Lionel began to take a step toward him. “Oh please. You want the Council knowing you ended the life of the handsome Paolo Monteleone?” Dag smirked as he gave a signal that triggered the sounds of guns cocking and safeties being disengaged.

  A forest of barrels pointed right at Paolo’s head.

  Dag was smug. He’d thought of everything, Paolo brooded. Though the silver netting was heavy, it didn’t burn his skin like it would dark vamp’s. It was the anti-tracing charge that was the problem. Paolo was powerless to do a thing.

  “I can have him eliminated with a click of my fingers. You will please drop your weapons, and stand down,” Dag said, especially to Lionel, who nodded, and the men lowered their weapons.

  “No, I said Stand Down! That means you drop your fucking guns,” Dag screamed.

  The men complied as Paolo heard the crashes as weapons hit the concrete floor.

  Cara hid behind Jeb’s muscular frame. Paolo could see she hoped Dag would be so focused on the battle, he’d forget about her.

  But Paolo’s hopes were dashed when Dag strode over to Cara and pulled her by the hair into the center of the warehouse, several feet in front of the security webbing where Paolo was confined.

  Blood had poured down her chest in thick, four-inch ribbons. Paolo could tell she might very easily bleed out if they didn’t resolve things quickly. Even worse, Dag held her head back, throwing her slightly off balance, and increasing the flow of her blood. They were about out of time.

  “Stop. I have what you want. I have the book,” Paolo heard himself say. He couldn’t believe he’d offered it.

  “No, Paolo,” Cara sobbed. “Don’t believe him. He’s lying to protect me.”

  Dag was interested and leaned closer to the netting. “Come again?”

  Cara was starting to pass out. Paolo could see the Jett brothers were tensed and ready for action. Lionel was fixated on the little blonde’s body near the dark corner. Then each of the brothers nodded almost imperceptibly, staring at each other. Paolo could tell they had formed an unwritten, unspoken pact.

  “Please, don’t interfere,” Paolo said to Lionel. “Let me do this. I have the book, Dag. It’s at the house, just down the road.”

  Cara was literally being held up by her hair, but her face had gone grey and her eyes were closed. Her mouth hung open and blood drooled slowly down her chin and breast. Paolo tried to revive her mentally, but he did not get a response.

  Dag dropped Cara’s torso and started over to the netting. “Good boy. Just what I wanted to know.”

  In a burst of speed, Jeb Jett grabbed Dag and tried to trace out of the warehouse, but the protection barrier held and they fell to the ground. One of the SEALs picked up a grenade launcher and blasted a hole the size of a truck in the wall of the warehouse before Dag could right himself. Jeb lunged at the dark coven leader again, and they disappeared out the opening into the night air.

  The battle between the dark guards and the Team guys never began because their leader was gone. The dark coven guards faded away, some quickly, some walking backward, slowly.

  And suddenly the room was full of sorrow. Lionel and Hugh hung their heads over their brother’s sacrifice. Paolo was grief-stricken at the enormous sacrifice of life. Then he threw an anguished look at Cara, lying dead nearby, and wished with all his heart and soul that he could join her right now in eternal sleep.

  Hugh and the others removed his netting while Lionel kneeled beside Shirley’s crumpled body. “She still breathes!” he said triumphantly.

  After extricating himself from the security webbing, Paolo ran to Cara’s side. She had no pulse. He grabbed her body and held her tenderly, screaming his rage and despair. Cara remained limp in his arms. Everyone waited.

  She continued to turn paler, and her skin began to feel clammy and cold. Her lips were turning deep purple. Paolo kissed those lips, tried to breathe life into them, but it was no use.

  “You have a decision to make, Paolo,” Hugh said as he put a hand on Paolo’s shoulder.

  “No. I cannot do that.”

  “She is gone to us now, Paolo. She is entering death’s doorway. You would rob her of her immortal life because of your loathing for your choice? She cannot make a choice. You must make it for her.”

  “I cannot take her humanity away from her.”

  “It’s done. Dag did that. Jeb sacrificed himself for you, and for her. Don’t dishonor his gift.”

  “No, I am responsible. I killed her by loving her. I am her executioner as surely as if I’d carved open her neck myself.” Paolo buried his head in Cara’s chest. He knew he would not be able to endure a lifetime without her. He swore he’d take a tracing to Death Valley, where he assumed Jeb Jett had gone with Dag. He’d end himself before the next sunrise.

  And then an image of his precious son intruded on his grief. The choice and the path became very clear.

  “I am so sorry, Cara. Please forgive me.” He bit his wrist and placed it over her lips. The blood from his vein ran down the side of her cheek. He opened her lips, kissed the little pillows of flesh he’d loved, tried to empty a few droplets onto her tongue.

  Cara, please forgive me. Come back. Please, if you want a life with me, please come back. I promise to make the rest of your days filled with everything you desire.

  The men began to fidget. Paolo knew they wouldn’t let him sit there and grieve all night. At some point he’d have to stop working on her. Not every turning worked. Not every life could be saved. Only if they were compatible, but God of vampires, how Paolo wished they were compatible, how he believed—no, knew—they were
.

  And then Cara began to breathe. At her first raspy gasp her hand gripped her own throat, as if she was suffocating again. Paolo held his wrist to her lips and she finally bit down on him, and began to suck.

  She fed ravenously as her cheeks turned pink, and her grip on his arm actually left welts on his flesh. Delicious welts. Welts he blessed and celebrated. The wound in her neck began to close, and all that remained were stains of red, which dried and began to flake off.

  Cara looked up at Paolo and, yes, he could see that she was confused, but looking to him for guidance. She trusted him. He hoped in time she would forgive him for the choice he had made for her.

  He bent down, pulling aside his wrist as she kissed him, almost as if by instinct, and closed his wound with her tongue. With his own blood still on her lips, he kissed her, feeling her little shaking body melt into his strength.

  Inside him a bonfire began to burn. It wasn’t the fating he’d experienced years ago, but it was something else. Something wonderful.

  Chapter 42

  Paolo and Marcus entered the anteroom off the great hall of the Council chambers with Cara between them. They’d been told to wait for their summons. Marcus held the old book they’d found in Prague, and Cara held the book by Alasdair Fraser. Paolo had insisted she carry it, since she was the one who had discovered its existence.

  She’d asked a lot of questions about her making while they prepared for this meeting. How her life would change. What would she eat? All the little basic things Paolo hadn’t thought much about, since his routine had been established almost three hundred years ago.

  Marcus had been so distracted over the upcoming meeting that he hadn’t engaged in much conversation, certainly no small talk. Therefore, Paolo was as worried as well, but did his best to cover it up. There’d be time for celebration, he decided, once they fulfilled their duty to the ruling Council. He hoped there would be no surprises.

  So, they waited in the anteroom. No one attended them. For all they knew, they awaited an execution, but Paolo was careful not to think about that for fear Cara would hear his thoughts. He tried to think about sunny days in the orchard in Tuscany, and picking apples with Lucius.

  He decided suddenly that it was time to set aside his fears and focus instead on life’s beauties. He’d begin by being more attentive to Cara as she snuggled against him, so he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. Marcus watched the demonstration of affection, and smiled.

  “It is good to see you happy, brother,” he finally said.

  More minutes passed. They were now beyond their time limit of twenty-four hours. The large, carved wooden doors opened with a sucking sound, and two novices in white robes emerged. They each linked elbows with Cara and asked that the men wait outside.

  Cara turned to give the book to Paolo and one novice instructed her to keep it. At the last moment, she looked back over her shoulder at him, alarm filling her lovely countenance.

  Love you, Paolo.

  Love you, mi amore. All will be well. You’ll see. Just answer their questions.

  She bravely stood straight and focused ahead as she was led through the doors. With a heavy boom, Paolo and his brother were cut off from any hope of rescuing her. It was now in the hands of the gods.

  “What do you think they will ask her?” Paolo muttered as he stared at the doors.

  “Hard to say. What her background is. What she thinks of vampires. Does she bleed.”

  “Does she bleed?”

  “They asked that of Anne.”

  “Why on earth for?”

  “To see if she was fated.”

  “But Cara does not bleed, at least I don’t think she—I have no idea. I have never asked her.”

  “You’ve not even known her for a full cycle, Paolo.”

  “True.”

  “Women’s private things. They are so confusing. But the Council will focus on the blood, the blood lines, the possibility she could be useful in some way, like to bring offspring into their world.”

  “You say their world, like it isn’t yours.”

  Marcus hesitated. “I read nearly this whole book while you were in California. I now know why the darks wanted it.”

  Paolo watched the hand of his brother as it smoothed over the blotchy and peeling surface of the old book with reverence. “This book has cost many, many lives of our kind. It will cost more.”

  “Tell me.”

  “The human condition? It was an experiment, brother.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Someone had the bright idea to mess with God’s handiwork. Perhaps it was devil-inspired. But the bible is correct. Humans were created, except they weren’t created by God.”

  “Who created them?” Paolo asked.

  “We did, brother. We are the original race.”

  “Not possible.” Paolo’s heart thumped loudly, seeming to echo in his chest cavity.

  “I’m not sure the Council knows this fact, Paolo. I’m not sure they need to know.”

  “The book spells this out?”

  “Yes. We were the result of natural selection, until a small group of our kind began to mess with our DNA. They created two sub-races. One was mortal but could live under the sun and the moon. The other was immortal, but could not go out in the sun. It was believed that because of humans’ limitations, we could hold dominion over them. It was a failsafe mechanism built into their bloodlines.”

  “So how can a turning occur?”

  “Our blood is stronger. Our blood will prevail. I think Dag was trying to eliminate as many of the Goldens as he could, and then would rule supreme over the whole world: human, dark vampire, Golden vampire. It’s just a theory, but I think he wanted to force one of us to turn him so he was free from the limitations.”

  “Where did he learn of this?” Paolo asked.

  “That’s an excellent question, and one we must investigate.”

  “In secret.”

  “If we live long enough. If they let us live.”

  The doors opened. Marcus leaned to Paolo and whispered, “Continue thinking of Lucius picking apples, brother.”

  Paolo was heartened to see Praetor Artemis down on the main floor, smiling and discussing something with Cara, who sat in a carved chair, unharmed.

  Thank the Gods.

  She had been given one of Laurel’s white fluffy blouses with the low-cut neckline, and he noticed Artemis was drawn to the way she looked. Paolo unconsciously made a fist, but Marcus placed his palm on his brother’s forearm in warning.

  Artemis greeted them warmly, winking at Paolo, which was something that had never happened before. “She’s lovely,” he whispered to him.

  “Thank you.”

  “Distinguished members of the Council, I give you the two heroes of the day, Paolo and Marcus Monteleone.”

  The brothers bowed. Cara sat directly behind them.

  I especially like the view, Paolo heard Cara say. Marcus winced like he’d been slapped.

  Shhh.

  Paolo experienced a flood of liquid dreams of them making love on the cream satin sheets. He was starting to get hard, and it couldn’t be a more inappropriate moment for it to happen.

  Marcus stepped on his foot. Hard. It jarred his attention back to the Council. He heard Artemis snigger.

  Is my whole life an open book for anyone to read? Cara silently asked him.

  He hears my thoughts only. But I’m sure that was enough, Bella.

  “Excuse me, Council members. I must speak to Cara for just a moment.” Paolo didn’t wait for permission. He grabbed her elbow and led her to a corner. “You will stop this. Right now. It is not appropriate.”

  Cara looked back at him and swung her body from side to side, her sultry eyes at half-mast. “But I love the way my new body feels, and I’m anxious to try it out. Can you make it quick? I can be good for a few minutes, but only a few.”

  Paolo looked at his brother, who awkwardly tried to come
to the rescue by inserting a comment. “Members of the Council. My brother is having trouble with his, his—“

  “Fiancé,” Cara shouted out. The Council went aghast. A gavel was pounded on the table. Paolo scowled and Praetor Artemis nearly doubled over with laughter.

  “Well, that’s what he promised me, anyway,” she added with conspicuous innocence.

  Paolo looked at Marcus, who shrugged. There was no help from any quarter, so Paolo began stuttering as if he’d been caught in a lie to gain sexual favors.

  “You must forgive what I’ve said in the heat of passion,” Paolo told the Council. Cara slapped him, but Paolo smiled, “I say many things, and I don’t always agree with all of them, or remember what has been said, or promised.”

  Several members of the Council laughed. The oldest member woke up from his sleep and asked if the meeting was over.

  Marcus tried to hide his giddiness at the brilliance of the deception. Even Praetor seemed anxious to keep things on a very light and celebratory note.

  “Then let it be said, Paolo Monteleone,” a gray-haired Council member stood and delivered, holding onto the tabletop, “you are to wed this woman within the next thirty days, as punishment for your insolence. The debt for your turning her will be satisfied if you make her an honest woman.”

  A cheer went up. Even some of the novices at the sides of the room clapped. “And you, Carabella Sampson, shall honor and obey your husband-to-be, and shall submit to him whenever and whatever he desires. Do you agree to this?”

  Cara crossed her arms, feigning some slight disagreement, but then ran to Paolo, put her arms around his neck and said, “I will. Most certainly I accept your terms.”

  Congratulations were given generously. Within a matter of minutes, Praetor said he would accompany them home, in his private limo. As they left the chamber hall one member of the Council shouted out.

  “The book! What about the book?”

  Marcus turned and bowed. “I shall return it to my grandfather’s study, from whence it came, for safekeeping, of course.”

  “Excellent,” the member said. “Make it so.”