Anger left her abruptly. It wasn’t his fault. He had every right to be furious. He had no access to a support network or group, although the idea of a “Ghost Group for Shattered Spirits” struck her as a rather intriguing idea. Gillian was his only anchor at the moment, and she’d weighed anchor and left.
“Dante, you have my most sincere apology.”
Searching his face, she thought she saw the lines of tension lessen a little. “I did not want to leave abruptly like that, but I had no choice.” Okay, that brought an arched eyebrow and disapproving look. Time for truth.
“Dante I am being targeted. There is…” She paused over the word. “…an altercation going on between some groups of Vampires and those of us who have dealings with Paramortals or have you for clientele are being hunted and systematically slaughtered.”
Dante’s eyebrows shot up and something flickered in his too-blue eyes for a brief moment. “Truly, dolcezza? You are in danger?”
Her hands were grasped by a suddenly whole Dante, whose hands felt solid and warm. She tried not to jerk back at the unexpected feeling and touch. Ghosts just weren’t supposed to do what he was doing.
“Yes, I am, but so are many others. We’re trying to figure out what to do,” she told him gently.
Damn, that almost sounded helpless. Damage control. “I don’t want you to worry about me. I am perfectly safe. I just have to be extremely careful for awhile.”
Squeezing his hands lightly, she let go and backed up. A little distance between them would be wise at the moment. He followed, crowding her. Rats.
“Dolcezza, you must not allow anything to happen to you. I am certain I am not your only patient who feels this way.” His voice was too soft, too gentle, and Gillian was on alert.
“Look, Dante, I am your therapist and I will continue to be, but I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I have friends here who are protecting me to the best of their abilities.”
“Friends, cara mia?” He’d backed her up into the hallway, an amused smirk on his generous mouth. “No, a man, I think. What manner of man is he that he can command your obedience and loyalty?” Jealousy dripped from every word. A firm line needed to be drawn.
“Dante, no offense, but my personal life has no bearing on your case. And no one commands my obedience. My loyalty is given freely or not at all.”
He heard the crackle of anger in her voice. Interesting. So there was a man. Not Arkady, surely. He would have scented her on the man’s clothing. Someone else and nearby, judging from the speed with which she’d gotten there after contacting Arkady. Dante’s quick mind was rifling through what he knew of the area from listening for centuries. He’d figure it out soon enough.
Gillian hastily maneuvered around him and went to fetch her chair. Dante instantly moved the table next to her. “Thank you, now let’s get started. If you want to talk about feeling angry with me and why, we can start there if you like.” She sat and waited.
“No, Gillian. I am no longer angry.”
I am furious, he thought. She needed a reminder of who should be foremost in her thoughts. Secretly glad of her help, he still had ulterior motives behind his continued association with the little blonde minx.
“I do not wish to dwell on your absence, cara; I would rather talk about my fears that you might never come back.” Leaning against the stones in his customary way, ankles and arms crossed, he waited for her response.
He was lying, she was sure of that. The heat was off his anger but something else replaced it. Something dark and deep and as cold as the grave. It made her cautious.
“I understand. But I do want you to know that there might be more unavoidable absences in the future, so you don’t get angry if I don’t show up.” Waiting a moment for that to sink in, she continued. “It isn’t personal, Dante. I am not avoiding you. You are important as a client to me, but my life is important too.”
“Of course, dolcezza. I give you my word that I will not ‘take it personally’ if you sometimes go away.” Now he was patronizing her but she let it go.
“All right, then let’s talk about your abandonment issues. Besides anger, how did you feel when Arkady told you I had to leave, and you had no one else to turn to?”
Focusing on her question, Dante thought for a moment then, sorting through his feelings, he told her: basically, as a narcissistic personality, he had felt betrayed and ignored. So, she helped him reason out, that had led to hurt, which led to anger—a much easier and more convenient emotion to deal with. “Si,” he agreed. “It is much easier to show the horns than the heart.”
“What?” Gillian laughed. “What does that mean?”
“When facing a threat, a bull will show his horns, not expose his heart to the peril. It is the same with men.” Dante shrugged casually. “We do not expose ourselves to attack. Only by gentle persuasion can you persuade the beast to accept you as anything but an adversary.”
Gillian had to think about that for a moment, then realized the ghostly Italian’s characterization was right on. Men, at least the males she knew, were definitely like that.
Dante watched her. She was a student of Paramortal behavior, of direct observation and interpretation of mental disorders, but woefully lacking in the nuances of men and women. It would make his efforts all that much easier. Frowning, he realized that it disturbed him a little to think of violating her confidence in him, but not enough for him not to try.
Watching the frown flit across Dante’s perfect features, his face partially shadowed by his thick auburn hair, Gillian wondered about him. What kind of man he had been. It would have a bearing on the Ghost he was. She knew what was in the file; facts cut and pasted onto the pages of what had been a man’s life. In her prior dealings with Ghosts, none of them had demonstrated all the abilities Dante had shown her in their brief acquaintance. Either the other Ghosts had been holding out on her or Dante had picked up some metaphysical skills somewhere. Dead for six hundred years, he was still suave, sophisticated, intellectual, arrogant and very, very sensual. There was no doubt that he’d had his own personal fan club while alive. Gill wanted to know what he was thinking.
“Any conclusions?”
“Many, dolcezza. When I have thought them all through, I will share them with you.” His enigmatic smile did nothing to lighten the quiet mood.
Now it was Gillian’s turn to frown. Dante laughed. “You are a delight, dolcezza. So intelligent, so capable, yet a long-dead swordsman has you puzzled by his musings.” He stepped forward, took her hand and kissed it. Gillian sighed. This was getting to be a habit. At least she wasn’t twitching anymore from his warm touch.
Looking up at her, over the back of his hand, his eyes sparkled. “It grows late, Gillian. Go to your lover before he worries for you.”
At her outraged look, he straightened, dropping her hand. “I will see what I can find out about this Vampire conflict, cara. I have what you might call connections.” Blowing her a kiss, he vanished into the hallway.
Feeling petulant that the observation tables had been turned on her, Gillian gathered her things. The bad thing about dealing with beings that were centuries older was that they did have more life experience than Humans. It didn’t make her ineffectual, just more transparent. She stopped in her tracks. Transparent to a Ghost. Giggling, she hurried down to her car.
It was getting late; the sun was nearly three quarters down as she sped along the now-familiar stretch of highway back to the estate. Twilight engulfed the landscape as she went deeper into the mountains, fear now riding her. The memory of the near attack in her car was painfully fresh in her mind. Taking the fork up to Rachlav Castle, she skidded the little car around the curves.
Suddenly the warmth and light contained in the gray stones and the company within seemed very alluring. So what if they were Vampires? They were at least Vampires who were her friends. A screech of tires brought her to a stop. Leaping out, she kicked the door shut, autolocking it, and bolted for the main entrance.
Her heart nearly stopped when movement flashed in her peripheral vision and she stopped, dropping backpack and keys, her body instantly molded into a fighting stance.
Wolf. Correction: wolves. A fair number of them, in fact, who were absolutely fascinated by the appearance of a Human female in their forest, except for the fact that these wolves were big. Bigger than any wolf Gillian had ever seen. Wolves the size of ponies were sidling up to her on all sides, jaws agape, teeth sharp as daggers and gleaming white in the moonglow. Not. Natural. Wolves. A chill went down her spine and coalesced in her stomach. Nice doggy. And not a rock within reach.
Loup Garous. Lycanthropes. Werewolves. Shapeshifters or Shifters if going with the politically correct term. Gillian’s mind was racing for a nonviolent solution. Something that wouldn’t involve blowing a hole in one of the wolves or in her own abrupt dismemberment. What she very quickly ascertained via the solid brick wall of reality her rational mind just crashed into, being a rather bright woman, was that she had maybe three or four seconds left to live.
“Oh hell.”
What to do, what to do? Run for the doors of the castle before they caught her and tore her to shreds, or stand, fight and be torn to shreds. These were the kind of decisions that tended to make her cranky.
CHAPTER
15
S LOWLY, she inched her hand toward the gun she carried in her pants pocket. It was loaded and had a round chambered. She’d not gotten around to unloading it after returning from Egypt. Trouble was, it had regular bullets in it. The Glock 22C was a powerful handgun. Loaded with .40-caliber rounds, it would stop a charging Werewolf or most of their Shifter friends. With a 9mm’s velocity plus a .45-caliber’s knockdown power, it would punch a fair-sized hole in a Werewolf, but unless she scored an exact head shot, it still wouldn’t kill it. Not permanently anyway.
Note to self, get silver-capped ammunition, came the brief thought. If I live through this, came the next as she sidled toward the heavy oak doors. She might not live through it. After being shot, the theoretically holed Lycanthrope would be pissed off over having to heal a fist-sized flaw in its lovely fur, and its friends were certain to be disagreeable about their newly ventilated packmate.
She almost made it close enough to the main entrance to risk a sprint, except for the sizable beastie that grabbed her hand in jaws that would have made a shark proud. To her credit, she didn’t scream or even whimper. Jerking her hand out of its mouth was definitely out. If she were even nicked by those razor sharp fangs, there was a strong possibility she’d wake up furry on the next full moon.
Kicking it in the face was a no-no also. Same problem. A boot to the face: teeth into her hand. Not acceptable. Faced with a no-win situation, Gillian did the only thing she could do under the circumstances: she froze. Offering absolutely no resistance to the massive creature that held her, watching her with intelligent green eyes that were still far too Human, despite being surrounded by a muzzle and a lot of fur.
The others loped up, surrounding her in a tightening circle of fangs and tails. Shit. Dying within ten feet of safety irritated her to no end. The wolf holding her hand released her and moved silkily back into the circle of lupine-based bone and muscle. Forcing herself to be still, Gillian’s mind was trying to figure a way past them. Tactically, she was screwed. They could outmaneuver her without effort. Organized and relentless, a pack of Lycanthropes would terrify the most stalwart Human, and even some of the monsters.
Just when she thought it couldn’t possibly get worse, she heard Aleksei’s voice. “Do not move, Gillian. They are here at my request.”
He must have given them some sort of signal—Gillian couldn’t tell, since he was behind her—because they all backed off, opening a pathway to the door. Her muscles bunched involuntarily in preparation for a major haul-ass to the Vampire and safety. Wait…safe? A Vampire? Before she could wrap her mind around that, Aleksei’s voice demanded her attention.
“Walk, do not run,” he commanded her. “Straight to the door, Gillian. Now.”
Doing as he ordered, she moved. Every instinct and nerve ending in her was having hysterical fits. They fired in mind-torquing unison, telling her to run like hell, get away, get away fast, even as the door was looming larger in her range of vision. Reaching it, she slowly put a hand out, opening it and pushing it in. Just. One. More. Step.
“Stop.” Aleksei sounded closer. She turned slowly and watched him walking gracefully out of the darkness, heedless of the Fur Pack of Death lounging about on his front lawn. The Romanian nobleman strode unconcernedly toward her, frowning and looking like a six-foot, seven-inch thundercloud. Stepping closer to her than she would have chosen, he reached out to pull her beneath the shelter of his arm, then beckoned the wolves.
They came en masse and it was intimidating as hell, even for a seasoned soldier like herself. There were at least fifteen of them, now that she had a chance to count cold wet noses, exclusive of arguing with her internal abacus over whether it was a bright idea to tally up Werewolves while standing among them on a moonlit night. Reflexively she shrunk against Aleksei before she could stop herself, and he tightened his arm around her.
“Put out your hand again, slowly.”
“Fuck that.”
“Do it.” It wasn’t a request.
Hating to see her hand shaking, Gill did as he told her. The biggest one, the one who had grabbed her hand earlier, came forward. Sniffing her hand, which held not a single tooth indentation, he licked it finally and sat down in front of her, his jaws opening in a doggy smile and his pink tongue moving as he panted in the autumn air. The others all visibly relaxed and either sat or lay down.
Aleksei’s voice rumbled, deep and pure, enchanting Gillian as she listened to him speak to the wolves. “She is under my protection and therefore under your protection. No harm is to come to her or those others who dwell within my walls.”
He paused a moment, making sure they heard him clearly. “Guard her as you would your own mate. Do not fail me in this.”
His voice took on a chilling note that Gillian had never heard before. She glanced up at him, but his face was expressionless as he regarded the pack.
The leader seemed to nod, then rising, gave a short series of barks to the rest. All rose and, with a flurry of tails, vanished into the night.
Gillian turned to Aleksei, still safely tucked under his arm. Looking up at him made her feel rather small and delicate. He was so much taller and his frame much more massive. Ignoring the feeling, she thanked him.
“I thought I was dead meat, Aleksei. Thanks for rescuing me.”
Turning his head to look at her, his silvery eyes were angry. “Do not be out after dark again. The wolves are here for your protection, Gillian. They would have been introduced to you tonight regardless of this incident, but you ran a terrible risk.”
His voice was deep and low and entirely too calm, but she wasn’t paying attention to that after her near-death experience.
Sighing, she conceded, “I know and I am sorry. It got late at my other appointment…”
He grabbed her, shaking her just hard enough to frighten her a little. He was furious. “Dammit, you could have been torn apart!”
The look on his face and the heat of his anger spilling over her convinced her to shut up for once. “I cannot protect you if you insist on making yourself a target! Those are my wolves out there, but they could easily not have been. I do not own all the forests nor command the loyalty of every pack or Vampire in the area.”
Releasing her, he spun, pacing away from her, then whirling back, his icy eyes pinning her. “I understand your position Gillian, truly I do. You have obligations which must be attended to. I do not expect you to obey my every whim and order without explanation, but disregarding obvious safety measures is inexcusable.”
Gill fidgeted under his direct stare. She knew she’d screwed up. It was her responsibility to watch the time better. Feeling like a raw recruit being dressed down by her drill instruct
or, she unconsciously snapped to parade rest and met his eyes.
“I understand why you’re mad at me. It won’t happen again. I give you my word.”
Aleksei swallowed the rest of the tirade he’d been ready to inflict on her. Truth was in her words. She meant it and that would have to be good enough. He was still shaking with anger and fear for her.
“Gillian, when I think about you, out there, alone…what might have happened…” He raked a hand through his thick hair, his voice hard with anger but full of something else she couldn’t immediately identify. “Do not put yourself at risk again, Gillian. I will take action next time.” Turning on his heel, he stalked off, anger radiating in his every movement.
“What the hell does that mean?” she muttered to herself as she turned to find the nearest bathroom and wash the lupine saliva off her hand. Realizing her keys were still outside, she went to the door, yanking it open. Searching the yard for the wolves, expanding her senses, she felt no threat.
“Do you think it would be better if you let me do that for you?” Tanis’s unexpected voice made her jump.
“Goddammit, Tanis, don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“If Aleksei returns to find you outside in the dark after his lecture, I will not be able to intervene, caressima.” He stroked her hair softly as he passed her on his way out the door. “What am I looking for?”
“Keys, backpack. I dropped them out there when the wolves came up.”
Tanis quickly retrieved the items, bringing them back to her. “Thanks, Tanis. I’m going to go find something to eat, assuming you have food in here somewhere, then take a shower.”
“Take your shower, piccola. I will bring you food.” Tanis headed for the kitchen before she had a chance to protest.
Tanis was also displeased. He’d heard the tone in Aleksei’s voice and the reason for it. It took all his control not to reprimand Gillian for being careless, but Aleksei had done a good job of it. She didn’t need both of them yelling at her.
Key to Conflict Page 17