by Susan Harris
Caitlyn pursed her lips, grasping a flute of champagne that was offered to her. She brought it slowly to her lips, scented the copper-laced drink, and only pretended to sip from the expensive glass. As she meandered through the hallway, Caitlyn observed the high society of the supernatural community chitchatting. Chester’s home was exactly as she had pictured it—extravagant, flashy, and overbearing. Some of the older generation of vampires felt that showing off their wealth and age with possessions and flair spoke volumes about themselves, yet Caitlyn rarely flaunted her wealth when in public. She may have indulged in a few cars and showered those she cared for with gifts, but money did not make her happy.
Setting the still-full glass of champagne down on a ledge, Caitlyn was ushered into the great hall. Once upon a time, this room had been used for weddings and balls. Now it was littered with tables that she suspected were solid gold, dripping with chandeliers adorning the ceiling, and one side was filled by a stage, where a full orchestra played a tune Caitlyn didn’t quite know. Waiters walked around the tables dressed in pants, bow ties, and nothing more. The waitresses, thankfully, at least had a meagre waistcoat to cover ample cleavage. Some carried trays of drinks, some carried nibbles, and then others… others simply tilted their heads to be dined on right in the middle of the room. Discretion certainly was not in Chester’s repertoire. It made her want to throw up.
Descending into the madness, Caitlyn made out the faint hint of glitter sparkling on the floor. If this was what she had to look forward to if she joined Chester’s kiss, then she praised the gods she would never be that desperate.
“It looks like someone murdered Tinkerbell in here,” she groaned softly under her breath.
“I’ve got a really bad feeling here, Cait. Be careful.”
The band sparked up a livelier song, and Caitlyn made to reply to Donnie when a sickening feeling clenched her stomach.
“My, oh my! The distinguished Agent Hardi has finally graced one of my soirees with her presence. But alas, she is alone. Pray tell, Caitlyn—has Donald stayed home to nurse Ms. Newton in her changing, or has he finally traded you in for a younger model?”
Ignoring the slew of swear words in her ear from both the boys, Caitlyn simply swivelled to face Chester. She shook her head, bemused to see the older vampire wearing an outfit straight out of a Shakespearian play, ruffles on the sleeves and all.
“Chester, I see you decided to wear something from an era when you might actually have been of some importance. Do your guests not know of your time spent working in brothels for wealthy squires and knights?”
Chester merely waved off her comment. “I like to show how far I have come in life, dear Caitlyn, while you like to shirk off your own past. Does anyone but us old-timers know exactly who the real Caitlyn Hardi is? I may have worked the brothels for survival before I became a vampire, but how do we differ? Did you not spread your legs for kings, also? I remember Paris, Caitlyn—where we first met—so do not look down your nose at me.”
Power hummed through the air as Caitlyn’s fingers itched to slap that smile off Chester’s face. “We both may have used our wiles to gain a better position, Chester, but do not forget it is I who actually achieved it. I simply don’t flaunt it in an age where titles and crowns are meaningless. Perhaps you have forgotten where I actually come from, whose sire would rip out your fangs for simply having the audacity to speak to me in such a manner.”
They glared at each other, Chester looking down first as he sipped from his blood-laced drink. “I have not forgotten who created you, my dear, but perhaps you have. He may indulge your freedom, but when he calls you back to his side, you will do so on your knees. Does Donald know the real reason you won’t touch him or give him the time of day is simply because your sire would end his immortal life for the way he glances at you? You will always belong to him, and soon he will come back to claim his greatest prize.”
A hiss escaped her lips, and with the single lapse of control, Chester had won. Her fangs slipped from her gums, and she snarled. Chester’s mountain of a bodyguard stepped forward, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her from unleashing bloodshed all over Chester’s sparkly floor.
“Lady Hardi, it has been an age. Forgive my interruption, but it must be almost two centuries since I have laid eyes on your exquisite beauty, and I must have a dance.”
Caitlyn turned and gazed into eyes of the warmest cocoa, their colour only outshone by the hickory skin tone of the speaker, and she quickly curtailed her bloodlust, smiling genuinely at the vampire whom she tentatively called a friend.
“Now, now, Marcel; nobody has called me Lady Hardi in decades. We are friends, non? Caitlyn, please.”
The handsome vampire gracefully took her right hand in his and lifted it to his lips. Caitlyn heard Chester snarl behind her but ignored him as her friend spoke.
“I was raised to speak of my betters politely. It is such a shame, is it not, Caitlyn, that most living in this generation have forgotten all manners? Shall we?”
Caitlyn chortled, reaching for the outstretched arm and slipping her own into his with ease. Marcel, though not a direct descendant of her sire line, was almost as high up the family tree as she, except she had been reborn of the sire himself, and Marcel had been reborn from one of his kin. He had always been kind to her despite her need to buck the laws of the sire, and Caitlyn wondered if Marcel were aware of the cat-and-mouse game she played with the creature who had given her the hunger.
“Thank you, Marcel. I fear that Chester always knows how to push my buttons.”
White teeth grinned at her. “Do not fear, My Lady. Chester incites a need to spill blood from the most collected of creatures. How he still keeps his head eludes me.”
Marcel led them to the centre of the dance floor as the orchestra struck up a chord and the music slowed. She recognised the tune as a slowed-down version of a song Melanie listened to. Marcel released her arm, bowed, and held out his hand to her. She nodded back at her old friend and slipped her palm into his. He slid an arm around her waist, and Caitlyn let him, if only to put on a show for Chester.
“What brings you to Cork, Marcel? From the whispers I’ve heard, you settled on a quiet vineyard south of France with a family of your own.”
Marcel looked down on her and despair flashed in his eyes. “The sire sent us to ensure you are well. You have not responded to any of his calls, and he has become worried.”
Her spine stiffened. “I was not aware that the sire knew of my whereabouts.”
“Lady Caitlyn,” Marcel said with a chuckle, “the sire knows where all his children are at any time. You, though, are the only one he indulges. Truth be known, many of us think he is amused by your acts of defiance.”
Caitlyn replied with a brisk shake of her head. “I do not do any of this to defy him. I do this because I want my own freedom. I cannot be who he needs me to be, Marcel. I won’t go back for any reason.”
“He will come for you. I paid off the scouts from speaking of your amour, but you of all people know how persuasive our liege can be.”
Caitlyn closed her eyes as Donnie’s growl almost ruptured her eardrum. “I would rather die than be dragged back to his court.”
A sad smile crept onto Marcel’s lips. “And do you not think he knows that? He will do as he has done since he was created. He will hurt those you care for. He will lay their bodies at your feet until you bow down to his will and are nothing more than the creature he wants you to be. Then, when he tires of you, he will end your immortal life as he did those you love, and you will be nothing more than dust on the wind.”
Her fingers grasped tighter on his arm as they swayed to the music. “Marcel… what has he done?”
Moisture glistened in her old friend’s eyes. “He has done only what he has always done—forced a person’s will. When he asked me to come here and relay his request to see you, I refused… and he… he slaughtered my entire family—my husband, those we called our children—and made me crawl in
their blood and ash until I agreed to come here to give you his message.”
“Who the fuck are they talking about, Donnie?”
Ricky’s voice broke through the sudden silence as Caitlyn’s head throbbed. She ignored the voice in her ear and rested her head against her friend’s chest.
“I’m so sorry, Marcel. My impertinence should not have cost you your family. I’d completely understand if you ended my life here and now for what he has done to you.”
Marcel lifted up her chin so that she held his gaze. “I will never forget the lady who demanded the little black boy be given a job in the kitchens of her stately manor when she happened upon him starving on the streets; the woman who had her staff teach me to read and write; and once I was grown, the one who gave me to the vampire who would make me immortal. You, Lady Caitlyn, saved my life when I would have died nameless on the streets. My loyalty lies with you first, the sire second. To end your life with my own hands would only tarnish all that I have achieved since I was that poor, orphaned boy on a Paris street corner.”
“Marcel…” she began, but he cut her off.
Marcel pressed his lips to hers and whispered, “He will come soon, Caitlyn, so be ready. You only need call, and I will be by your side.”
Stepping back, Marcel bowed and spun on his heels, leaving Caitlyn standing idle in the centre of the dance floor, gulping in air she no longer needed. The world spun before her eyes, and her legs refused to move.
He was coming for her. She needed to run, needed to be far away from those she cared for, or he would smite them all while she watched. Maybe if she went back… maybe if she returned they would be safe.
Breathe, Cait. Just breathe. I’d never allow him to take you. You know that. And over my dead body will you crawl back to him. He won’t take us alive.
Donnie’s voice in her head eased her panic. For now, she was safe. But soon—oh, so very soon—the monster who had shaped her would come for her, and the streets would be drenched in the blood of the innocent.
“Agent Hardi! May I have this dance?”
Caitlyn blinked back her surprise and gave the Munster alpha a coy smile. “Arthur, I think we should drop the titles for one night, non?”
Holding out his palms, the salt-and-pepper-haired werewolf gave her a grin. “Sure, Caitlyn.”
She stepped into his arms, and they moved to the beat of the music, not speaking for an age.
Finally, Arthur broke the silence. “I had nothing to do with Derek Doyle’s current predicament. Nor did I employ anyone to do so.”
Caitlyn tasted the truth in his words and nodded. “Have you heard of anyone with a vendetta against Derek?”
Arthur’s grinned deepened. “I’m quite sure the list is a long and lengthy one, Caitlyn. Like myself, Derek will have amassed a lot of enemies, or ‘frenemies’—that’s how the kids say it now, is it not?”
Arthur’s arm snaked around her waist, and Caitlyn gritted her teeth.
“Who of us has not acquired enemies, Arthur? Perhaps, should you be so inclined, you would keep an ear out and let us know if you hear anything?”
His fingers gripped her hip, and Arthur leaned into her, his breath warm on her skin. “Why do I feel like there was an insult hidden in there, my fair lady?”
Caitlyn shrugged and stepped out of his grasp. “I meant no disrespect. Please forgive me.”
With a hearty laugh, Arthur clasped a hand over his heart. “And you didn’t mean a word of that.”
“If you’ll excuse me, Arthur.”
Without waiting for him to speak, Caitlyn walked across the dance floor, realizing it had been a mistake to come here, especially alone. Rushing up the steps and through the foyer, Caitlyn hurried to leave before someone tried to stop her. Vampires were feeding openly, and hunger roared inside her. She breathed in, and the tantalizing scent of blood was all she could smell. Her gums itched as she lunged for the door.
“Leaving so soon, Caitlyn?”
Steeling her resolve, she cast a glance over her shoulder. “I’m rather disappointed, Chester. I had heard that you threw one hell of a party, yet I’ve had more excitement playing Scrabble. I feel bored to tears. I will take my leave.”
Chester sputtered as she dashed out the door and down the steps.
“You okay, Cait?”
“I’m fine, Donnie. Waste of bloody time.”
“Get yourself into the car and out of there. Regroup back at the station?”
Before she could answer him, her name sounded from behind her, and she paused. Arthur galloped down the steps and came to stand in front of her. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Arthur rocked back onto the heels of his feet.
“I came to apologize, Agent Hardi. Perhaps being accused of setting Derek up has unhinged me more than I thought.”
Caitlyn inclined her head. “Forget it. But I do think Sargent Delany would much appreciate you popping in for a chat tomorrow, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“If it means I can see you again, then it’s no trouble at all.”
“Why that furry motherfu—”
Caitlyn winced at the roar in her ear from Donnie.
“Arthur, not three weeks ago, you were enamoured with Ms. Chace. I am old enough to not take your words for gospel.”
Arthur chuckled again and turned as his beta came down the steps after him.
Caitlyn looked away from Arthur, her senses suddenly on high alert. A glint of light caught her eye a second before she heard the sound of a shot being fired. She spun on her heels and shoved Arthur out of the way even as the bullet ripped through her flesh and shredded her heart.
Hitting the ground, her eyes blurred as Arthur was ushered into a car which promptly sped away. She lay there, cold seeping into her bones, and knew she was hurt. Tiredness crept along her senses, and she lowered her lids as she felt her body being hoisted up by familiar arms.
“You couldn’t resist playing the hero,” Caitlyn said to Donnie as he carried her down the stairs. Her words slurred as her injuries began to take effect. Enough blood, though, and she would be fine. Silver bullets couldn’t kill her.
“Stop being a wiseass. Just stay awake for me, Cait.”
She wanted to listen to him, the man who could so easily shred her heart like the bullet just had done, but she wouldn’t survive it if she did. And she hated herself for her weakness.
“Come on, Cait. Stay with me.”
Caitlyn felt herself being jostled as Donnie raced through the streets. She wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t capable enough, to stop the darkness that engulfed her as her eyes closed.
With Caitlyn unconscious in his arms, Donnie fled the scene to the sound of his name being called from behind him. But he couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t. If Caitlyn went to her final death, Donnie would follow shortly after her. A life where Caitlyn wasn’t beside him was not a life Donnie wanted.
The city blurred around him, a medley of lights and darkness; a resonance of voices reached out, beckoning him; heartbeats sang to the predator that lurked beneath his calm exterior, urging him to strike, to hunt, to kill. It clawed at his skin, punched at his stomach, and begged to be sated. But Donnie’s priority was the stubborn, beautiful woman in his arms. Right now, he had no other focus.
He whipped his phone from his back pocket and dialled Caitlyn’s newest addition to the family.
“What’s up, bro?” Melanie answered the phone with the same zest in which she had taken to her second life.
“Caitlyn’s been hurt, and I need a human at the house as soon as possible. Call the number on the fridge and then lock yourself in your room. Do. Not. Come. Out. Understand?”
“Will she be okay?”
He shuddered at the sound of pain in the young vampire’s voice for the woman who had saved them both from rotting in the ground. He spared a glance at the almost-fragile Caitlyn, limp in his arms, and forced himself to believe the words he spoke. “She will be perfectly fine once she has fed from the vein.”
A pregnant pause followed, then he heard Melanie sigh. “Ok, I’m on it. Come get me when it’s clear.”
Melanie hung up, and Donnie tried to quicken his pace. He could scent rain in the air as he edged clear of the city’s border and crossed into the country. He reached out and brushed a curl from Caitlyn’s pale and clammy face, trying to ignore the wound the was now in the process of fusing itself closed, but a lack of blood was hindering the healing process. He held her closer so that her head rested in the crook of his neck. She hadn’t moved since she’d lost consciousness. Truth be told, he would have given just about anything for her to have bitched and moaned at him right then.
He swept up the hill and through the grassy field just outside the boundary of Caitlyn’s complex. With a single leap, he was up and over the fence and bursting through the patio door that led into their living room. Not bothering to close it behind him, Donnie went straight to his room. He could hear Melanie pacing around in her own room, her thoughts and worries combining with his own, and he couldn’t stop the growl that ripped from his throat.
Sitting down on his bed, he stretched out so that Caitlyn still could rest in his arms. Until she was up and fighting him, Donnie would keep her as close as possible, the urge to protect her as strong as the burning hunger for blood that cursed him.
He would never trade what he was or his life with Caitlyn for anything. Sometimes it took a momentous occasion in people’s lives for them to finally find themselves and their purpose in the world. Donnie had found his—all it had taken was for him to die.
He pressed his lips to Caitlyn’s forehead, closed his eyes, and thought back to the night he had been reborn.
Elation flooded his veins, or maybe that was the alcohol. He had consumed so many pints in the last few hours that he’d lost count—it was the only thing that dulled the ache in his chest once he came down from the high of the game. Munster had beaten Leinster this afternoon, and instead of having a post-game pint with his teammates, Donnie had strolled into Temple Bar to get lost in the crowds. He’d been spotted by fans, though, and free drinks aplenty had come his way.