by Raven Hart
Tough shit.
“You’re the second guy tonight to complain about my driving, and I just hate that. Don’t be such a pussy. Besides, would I hurt Iban’s most trusted human?” I looked at him finally, showing full fang. He froze and I saw real fear on his face.
“What’s this about, Jack? Is there really something wrong or is this a trick to get me out of Connie’s apartment?”
I stomped on the brakes so hard that if he hadn’t buckled his seat belt, he would’ve become a warm-blooded hood ornament. The humans in their mansions were snug in their beds and the only sound was the purring of my motor. I pinned him with my eyes, which could glow greenish blue in the dark. “Don’t ever again accuse me of manipulating Connie if you value your life. I don’t care whose little helper you are.”
Sullivan swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed. “What’s wrong then? Is it Iban?”
I let up on the brake and edged the convertible into the final turn to William’s house. “Yes. He’s sick.”
“Sick?” Sullivan asked, confused. “You…guys are never sick. What—”
“It’s worse than that. Some kind of plague has broken out in your colony.” I softened my tone at his look of horror. Whatever my problems with him where Connie was concerned, he’d just lost a bunch of his friends and I was sorry to have to be the one to tell him. “The vampires are all dead. Most of the humans, too.”
“Oh, God, no,” Sullivan breathed. He put his hands to his face.
I repeated what little Iban had told us about what had happened and summarized what William and Gerard had said in the aftermath. By the time we had pulled into William’s driveway, Sullivan looked almost as pale as me in the security lights. “I’ve got to see how Iban is. Did William put him in his coffin early to sleep or is he resting in the house?”
“He’s not here. Gerard put him under quarantine.”
“Where is he?”
“With a friend of William’s.”
“Take me to him.”
“No can do. It’s for your own good. Iban said he didn’t want you exposed.” By this time, I was going up William’s front walk and Sullivan was close behind. He grabbed me by the arm and spun me around to face him. From this distance I could smell Connie’s perfume on him, and I tried real hard to keep from hating him enough to kill him on the spot.
“That’s bullshit. I lived with them the same as Iban. I’m already as exposed as I’m going to get. Now take me to him.”
I looked him up and down and sighed. I could tell by the set of his jaw he wasn’t going to back down. Besides, he was right. Iban was already sick and Sullivan himself probably wasn’t far behind, quarantine or no quarantine.
“Oh, all right,” I said. “Get back in the car.”
When we got to Tilly’s, Sullivan took the porch steps two at a time. The old girl answered the door herself. “Hello, Miss T.,” I said. “This is Sullivan, Iban’s friend. He insisted on coming.”
“Where is he?” Sullivan said, taking her extended hand briefly.
“Downstairs,” Tilly said, with a gesture toward the elegant staircase behind her.
He took off toward the stairs as I leaned down to kiss Tilly’s lightly rouged cheek. “Sorry about all this.”
“I’m just sorry for that poor, lovely Spaniard,” she said. She reached up with one delicate hand and fingered the hair at my collar softly. “You’d better go down and explain yourself to William. You know how he is when you disobey him.”
“Yes ma’am, I do,” I said. “I may need you to help defend me. Nobody can wrap William around her little finger like you can.”
She smiled and I could see the beautiful young woman she once was. “If he gives you any trouble, you just whistle.” She looked up at me coquettishly and added, “Just put your lips together and blow.”
“You know I will.” I gave her narrow shoulders a gentle squeeze and went downstairs.
William opened the door and stopped when he saw me. “There you are. Were my orders unclear?” He voice was low and controlled, probably because Iban was in earshot behind him.
He was close to levitating, but the vibe I was getting from my sire wasn’t all about anger. There was grief in him, and maybe even fear. “He insisted. Besides, he’s already exposed, so what’s the point?”
William exhaled slowly to calm himself. “What’s done is done.”
“How is he?” I asked. I could hear Sullivan’s voice behind William as he spoke softly to Iban. The horror in his tone made me shiver.
“Come and see for yourself. But don’t get closer than the doorway. I had his coffin brought in so he could rest easier, but there is nothing else we can do for the moment. We may already be exposed as you say, but…just see for yourself. You may as well know what we’re up against.”
William stepped aside. Sullivan stepped over the threshold and stopped, blocking my view of Iban. When Sullivan shifted so that I could see, my brain nearly shut down trying to reconcile the face staring back from the pillow with the man I’d seen just a couple of hours before.
Iban’s flesh had turned a mottled gray. His skin sagged away from his cheekbones and hung beneath his chin. Clumps of his hair lay beside his head on the pillow. It looked like death was finally catching up with him and meant to collect its due after having been defied for so many centuries.
As I watched helplessly, a piece of flesh above his cheek let go from his face, leaving the bottom of one eye socket exposed.
Iban shifted his bloodshot, sunken eyes to stare at us. “Is it that bad, Señor Jack?”
I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone dust dry.
“You’re going to be just fine, amigo,” I said.
William
As usual, Jack had disregarded my orders. Now he would have to do or die.
“Jack, listen very carefully,” I said. “This is a matter of great importance to me.”
Jack dragged his attention away from Iban and settled it in my direction.
“Go to my home, stay with Eleanor, lock yourselves below floors if you have to. I want her safe and protected.” I started to place a hand on his shoulder but withdrew at the last moment. I had carried Iban inside, then placed him in his coffin. Could a touch infect? There was no way to know yet.
Jack bristled. “What about you? And Iban? What if you need me?”
“I’ll call.”
Jack looked from me to Iban and back again. “No, you won’t,” he declared under his breath.
“Jack!” I had to penetrate that thick skull of his. “We each have a job to do. Right now we must wait and gather information—give Gerard some time to work. I need you to be my surrogate and take care of the others: Melaphia, Renee…Eleanor. If we fail then all are doomed. Trust me, I’ll call if there is more important news.”
Jack gave Sullivan a dark look. “What about him?”
“He must go with you,” Iban said, his voice as ravaged as his body.
Sullivan dropped to his knees next to the coffin. “Why? What’s the point? If what we’ve heard is true, then we’re the only ones left.”
“My dear compadre, if you haven’t been infected with this contagion there is no sense in taking such a chance. You’ve served me well. Now serve yourself. I bequeath my legacy to you. My property, my work—it is your responsibility to live.” Iban turned his ruined face away. “Now I order you to go.”
Sullivan bowed his head, then slowly pushed to his feet. I stepped out of the room and motioned to Jack to follow.
“For once, I’m glad you didn’t do as I asked and instead brought Sullivan here.” I stopped speaking and opened my thoughts to him. I don’t want him anywhere near Eleanor. Take him to your shop and make him stay there.
“But what about the guys?”
“Send them away.”
“Where?”
Just do it. I felt my feet leave the polished wooden floor and watched Jack’s reaction.
“All right, already.” He turned to Sullivan.
“Come on. We’re gonna take another little ride.”
Sullivan seemed too distraught to care.
Just then Tilly came down the short hall from the butler’s elevator, carefully balancing a tray of medicines. The pungent odor of green tea permeated the air. Out of reflex, I took the tray from her, walked past Jack and Sullivan, and placed it on the coffin-side table. Then I looked at Jack. Why are you still here?
Jack clamped a hand on Sullivan’s arm and propelled him toward the stairs. “How do you feel about zombies?” he asked.
The next few hours were torturous. Iban rested fitfully as the disease ravaged his body. Tilly’s ministrations seemed to ease his suffering but I had no idea what to expect—how long we had before—
“Why don’t you go up and get some rest, dear?” I said to my old friend. “I can stay with him until dawn. Then he’ll need you more than ever.”
“I will, in a bit,” she answered, totally absorbed by Iban’s delirious struggle. “Isn’t life strange,” she said, almost to herself, “how the wrong ones suffer when many of those who deserve pain and heartbreak escape?”
I slid an arm around her shoulders. “That’s an observation only the long-lived could make, my dear,” I said, referring to her age and to my own. “The young and reckless are too busy pursuing that elusive idea of happiness. Wisdom carries its own reward.”
She looked at me then. “I think I’ve had about all the wisdom I can stand.”
For a long moment, I said nothing. I could feel her physical fatigue and see emotional exhaustion in her gaze. She’d lived through enough woe and grandeur for any five human lives. “At the very least there will be sweet rest for you when you decide to leave us. But right now let me be selfish and say, Don’t go. We need you. I need you.”
She sighed. “I’m not as confident as you are about my eternal rest. Not after some of my sins. I’m fairly sure our maker will frown upon murder and suicide, no matter how many I tried to help.” She reached up to squeeze my hand. “But I won’t leave yet.” She pulled away and leaned closer to Iban. “Not yet,” she whispered.
The cell phone on the night table began to buzz and vibrate like a trapped bee. I’d made Jack turn off the ridiculous race car nonsense. I caught it as it tumbled off the edge and opened it.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Thorne? This is Tarney. Miss Melaphia said I could get you at this number. Sorry to bother you so late—”
“What is it?”
“Well, Jack told me to call if anything strange happened down here—”
“Go on.” My misgivings about losing Tilly solidified into dread.
“There’s a ship—at your dock. One of yours, but we don’t have one scheduled—”
“Clear the area, immediately. I’ll handle it.”
“Should I call Jack? He said—”
“No. Get your men out of there, now. Leave this to us.”
“Yes sir. And I don’t mind sayin’—”
I broke the connection, not bothering to redial the blasted cell phone. I opened my thoughts and called for Jack the old-fashioned way, by letting him feel my dread along with his orders. Going to the docks at once. Trouble afoot. Stay where you are. Warn the others.
“Tilly, dear, I have something I must attend to.” I shut the phone and handed it to her, then kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. Remember, do not invite anyone inside, no matter who they say they are.”
“Don’t worry. I understand.” Her downcast gaze drifted back to Iban. “I’ll look after him until you return.”
I arrived at the harbor in time to see the last of the men who’d been on duty with Tarney drive off into the darkness. Without conscious effort on my part, impelled only by my sense of urgency, the gate swung open as though it recognized the Mercedes. Locks were to keep humans out, not vampires. And certainly not me.
As I parked the car I got my first look at the ship, the Windward, a fifty-two-foot sailing vessel. Low and sleek, it was one of the fastest in my small armada. And dark, deserted-looking…but that meant little. The interior would be lightproof. Until this moment I had believed the Windward tied up at the dock in Ireland, but that was clearly not the case.
I remembered the last time an unexpected arrival had touched this dock. The ghost ship Alabaster had carried Reedrek, who, bringing all the evil he could muster, had slaughtered every mortal and immortal on board. This ship still carried its cargo.
The dread I’d felt at Tilly’s redoubled. There were vampires aboard; I could feel the itch of kindred on my skin. Strange, yet familiar.
So it begins.
Unfamiliar laughter echoed in my mind as a movement in the shadows near the dry dock crane drew my attention. I drew in a long breath and gathered my power. If this was a trap, I’d already slipped my head through the noose. Just as well. All this waiting and planning had been a damp blanket over my urgency for revenge. The image of Iban dying, rotting away, seared my thoughts. Cold blood fueled by fury settled into my jaws, extending my fangs, bringing the metallic taste of blood.
One of the shadows moved slowly toward me. “William? Sir?” a hesitant voice called out.
It took a few seconds for my blood lust to recede far enough to recognize the figure. “Lamar—Werm?”
He stepped toward me. His relaxed smile seemed out of place. “What the devil are you doing here?” Werm couldn’t be the vampire I’d sensed.
“I wanted to show my friends the docks.” Werm shrugged. “But only one of ’em was brave enough to come along.” He turned back to the shadow he’d left in the dark. “Come on out. I want you to meet—”
He intended to say, my sire, but I stopped him with a warning jolt of displeasure.
“—M-Mr. Thorne, the owner.”
The shadow coalesced, pushed off from his casual, leaning stance, and sauntered toward us. Though dressed in the same rebellious fashion that Werm and his friends affected, this goth was different. He radiated anger and satisfaction. And he wasn’t a mortal posing as a vampire: He was a vampire. Why had Werm neglected to mention that fact?
This one was not afraid.
“Pleas’d to meet you at last,” he said, exaggerating his cockney accent, making the pleasantry sound like a threat. When he extended a hand to me I saw the cross-shaped scar, burned into the flesh of his upper chest and throat like a brand. Marking him for all to see.
Revulsion ran through me but I covered it and met his hand halfway, in case he had plans beyond a simple human greeting. His voice had awakened the yearning for home—for England—I’d put away long ago. This vampire was no fledgling, even though he looked to be in his early twenties. He felt old, well connected. Yet something inside him was broken. Touching his skin telegraphed a jumble of mixed messages. Hate, pain, hunger…and love for one—
He pulled away before I did. The feeling of familiarity persisted. “Why haven’t you come to me sooner?” I’d been so busy with the unusual numbers of vampires in the area that I’d fallen down on my personal vigilance. I’d been forced to depend on human spies. I should have paid more attention when Werm told me about—
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t catch your name.”
The stranger’s smile looked more like a snarl. “I didn’t give it. I like yours though, eh? Thorne—a posh English name, good enough for a king.”
“There are no kings here in America,” I said, just to prove that he couldn’t rile me unless I wished to be riled. The screeching of tires on cobblestone interrupted our barely begun sparring match. A car skidded through the front gate and slid sideways in the gravel of the boatyard. I didn’t need to turn to know who had arrived. The familiar roar of Jack’s Corvette echoed among the buildings. It was useless to choose between anger and admiration. He was here now.
Werm, however, was beginning to look a little green at the gills.
“Hey,” he said to his new friend. “Maybe we should hit the road—go over to Colonial and—”
Dust float
ed through the air around us as Jack’s automobile came to a stop.
Jack
I winced as I lost traction and scattered gravel. There went a brand-new paint job, but that was the least of my worries. Over Eleanor’s protests I’d locked her in William’s vault with Reyha and Deylaud and I’d been busy getting Sullivan settled in at the garage when Olivia called me on the office phone.
I could tell by the sound of her voice she was frantic, on the verge of hysteria, barely able to get the words out. “Hugo…” she’d begun. “I have reason to believe he’s on his way to Savannah by boat. In fact, he could be there right now.”
I felt myself go light-headed for a moment as the implications sank in. I slammed down the receiver and raced to the ’Vette, leaving Sullivan to introduce himself to Huey. If he had his druthers, he’d probably choose to pass the time with the rapidly rotting Iban rather than the already rotted Huey. I’m not sure who smelled worse. But I wasn’t going to disobey William’s orders again by letting Sullivan escape. Especially not now. I locked the garage from the outside.
On the way to the river I replayed the phone conversation with Olivia over and over in my mind. One of the missing spies whom they’d written off as dead had made her way back from Russia, severely damaged like the others. The spy had infiltrated Hugo’s clan, but just when she thought they’d accepted her, they set a trap and tortured her till she spilled everything she knew about the Bonaventures—especially what she knew about William and me.
“Did she tell them about the voodoo blood?” I asked Olivia.
“No. She couldn’t tell them. She didn’t know,” Olivia had assured me.
Thank God for small favors.
I stomped on the brakes as close to the dock as I could get, vaulted out of the convertible, and raced to William’s side. He was already standing in front of the damned ship. I had to get to him before they did, haul him aside or preferably away altogether. I couldn’t let him face this. Not until he was prepared. Not until I’d warned him.
Not until I’d confessed.
I made it to his side just as the cabin door opened and figures emerged onto the shadowy dock. Whatever we were in for, we were already outnumbered.