Vampire Vacation
After working outside for several hours, moving above-ground cables, I'm feeling stiff and cranky. Jerry, our sixty-something engineer, has successfully directed us on how to reroute the primary power supply. Everything will come through the backup system until the repairs can be made.
“Looks like someone came in and started pulling cables out with their bare hands,” Jerry says. “Guess the power don't hurt your kind?” He raises one eyebrow with his question.
Jerry's a sharp old bastard. He's been here since we opened and not much gets past him. Good thing he's not at the main building often or I'd have to tamper with his keen intellect more than necessary when he retires.
“No, you're right, it doesn't. We act like conduits and pour the energy back into the ground.”
Jerry nods to himself, like another piece of the puzzle snaps into place for him.
“Four days, Jerry, that's what you said, right?” I ask.
He looks around at the mess, nodding his head. He runs a hand through his short hair, mussing it up as he thinks. “Yup. I'll need some strong backs and nimble fingers working 'round the clock.” He looks back at me with a twinkle in his hazel eyes. “It'll get done, don't worry your pretty little head about it.”
I smile at the sentiment. Nice to know someone can get a complex job done without my help. “Great. You need anything, let Rafe or me know.”
Leaving Jerry to his job, I head over to Jonathan's secluded cabin. It's closest, so Asa, Jon and Rafe, have gone there to warm up. I pull the hood up on my subzero parka, stomp the circulation back into my feet, and head off into the darkness on the paved walkway. A gut-wrenching howl rips through the air. The fine hairs on my body stand up at the eerie sound. Tones of remorse and sadness filter through on the long note as it dies down.
Up ahead in the darkness, the door to the cabin whips opens, slamming into the inside wall. Pounding footsteps on the wooden porch echo out. The rectangle of light from the cabin briefly illuminates a man running away. Reaching out with my senses, I connect with the frantic emotions of the runner.
It's Jonathan. The energy pouring off him feels chaotic. That howl meant something and only he knows what. Two more figures, taller than the first, emerge from the cabin in pursuit. I change my course, angling through the woods at a run. Trees stream past me in the black. Outdoor spotlights, attached to Jon's large heated kennel, wink behind tree trunks and bounce up off the hard-packed snow.
Sprinting past the buildings, I hear movement up ahead and dive deeper into the woods to get to it. The lights no longer reach the snow in front of me. A faint glow from the moon illuminates the pines as I dash and dodge between them. Bursting through the trees, I slam to a halt a few feet from Jon's hunched form on the ground. He's cradling something to his chest. A ring of six wolf crossbreeds pace around his kneeling body as he rocks back and forth. A high keening sound rends the air as Jonathan tosses his head back, yelling out his despair.
Rafe and Asa break through the woods, into the small ten-foot clearing. They skitter to a stop and take in the scene as well. Jon kneels in frozen gore, holding the remains of one of his wolves. The compacted ground reveals no obvious signs of a struggle, but plenty of night-hued blood. Jon's dog must not have been out here too long, or the carcass would have been frozen to the snow.
“Jon, I…” I'm not sure what I should say.
There's nothing I can say to ease his pain. These half-wolves are his pack. Jon looks up at me, his eyes wet with unshed tears.
“It had to be him,” Jon chokes out. “That bastard must have caught her,” he lowers the dead half-wolf to the ground, “when she was coming back from patrol.”
“I'm so sorry.” The words aren't enough.
I approach, closer than the wild eyes of the wolf dogs want me to, and drop to my knees next to Jonathan. My arms go around him and I pull him to me in a hard embrace.
I whisper in his ear, “Nothing I can say or do can ease your pain. But I can promise you this-we will kill this son of a bitch.” Jon's arms come around me and he returns my hug.
“Damn right, we will,” he whispers back.
Rafe moves forward. “Jon, let me take her body back to the shed by the kennel. I'll wrap her in a tarp and you can decide what you want to do later.”
Jon eases back from my hold. He takes a jagged breath and lets it out slowly, head bowed. “Thanks.” He reaches out, placing a hand on the blood-free fur between her ears, giving her one last pat. “She was a good dog. I'll bury her this spring when the ground lets me.”
Rafe kneels and takes the stiff form in his arms. Rising, he heads back through the woods in the direction from where I came.
“Asa, go with him,” I direct. “I don't want him alone with this killer out.”
I heard that, Rafe calls in my mind.
I snap back, Good. Still doesn't change anything. “Asa, do you have your gun?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Take it out and have it ready. The bullets won't kill the jerk, but the silver should slow him down long enough-if your aim is good.”
“No worries on that end. I qualified for sniper status in the Army and only got better when I turned.” Asa unholsters his Smith and Wesson 500, following Rafe into the woods.
“Jon,” I coax, “come on. Let's get you up.” I put my hands under his arms and pull him up with me, giving him little choice in the matter. “You've got no coat on.”
“I'd say give me a kiss and that would warm me up, but you're a damn cold bloodsucker so I don't see how it would help.”
I smile at his attempt to bait me. I know he's hurting and this is his way of coping, so I let it slide. “On that note, here…” I remove my coat and hand it to him. “Not like I can't take a little cold better than you, furball.”
“Yeah,” he agrees while slipping on the arms of my coat, “being an icy bitch does have some advantages.”
“Watch it, bud,” I say with a small smile. I'd rather see him joking with me than wallowing in the pain I know he's feeling.
I glance at the silent dogs as we head out of the clearing. “What about them? Do we need to get them back in their kennels?”
“I'll lock the building remotely from the cabin. I don't want them out again till this guy's caught.” Jon turns to the six dogs, giving them a hand signal and a firm, “Go home.” The half-wolves race off into the night, sending a chorus of short barks back and forth to each other as they run.
We trudge back through the woods, heading for the light of the cabin. It's a long, slow walk back. The quiet leaves us alone in our own thoughts, but the dark and what lurks within it draws us closer to one another. I reach out and hold Jon's hand.
“Man alive! Your hands are like ice,” he says.
“Quit your bitchin'.” I squeeze his hand a little harder. “My gloves are in my coat pockets.”
“You want them?” he asks half-heartedly.
“No.”
After ten minutes, we finally reach the cabin. We come in through the front door, to the rich aroma of fresh coffee brewing. Jon drops my hand to remove my coat, while Rafe pretends not to notice.
Asa clears his throat. “Uh-umn.” He waits until Jon looks up. “I know I'm new and don't know much about you, Jon, but I just want to say I'm sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks, man.” A shadow of the regular Jonathan rears its head. “She was a good bitch. And she listened well.” He smirks at the last and shoots me a sideways look.
I find ignoring these types of comments works best, so I head over to the kitchen table and take a seat. “Pour me a half cup of that too, please.”
Rafe turns from the counter, two steaming mugs in his hand. “Already figured you'd want a cup.”
Asa and Jon help themselves to coffee as well, coming to settle in at the table with us.
“Where does this leave us?” Jon voices what we're all thinking. “We've got roughly fifteen square miles with dozens of buildings. He's been here at least since yesterday and we know he's fed from at least one guest.”
“I still think its Ivan.”
Rafe and Jon exchange a look.
I snap out, “Go screw yourselves. Last time I checked, I was the oldest vampire here.” Remembering Jon's fresh pain, I try to soften my voice a bit for my next words. “I know you both have your doubts. But your trust in me right now is key. Please.”
“Alright, people,” Asa tries to steer us back on track, “let's plan an attack.”
“Attack? Don't you mean 'defense'? How can the four of us possibly 'attack' him on the property?” Rafe questions.
“I'd have said the half-wolves would have made great herders and could drive him to us, but I'm not willing to risk losing anymore,” Jon says. “Besides, they aren't werewolves. They can't hold themselves against a crazy vampire, even in a pack.”
“But your old alpha, Romeo, can.” Saying his name brings the unforgettable man into sharp focus in my mind. He's of Italian descent, as charismatic as Casanova and deadly as all hell. The compact frame on the one hundred and fifty year old werewolf still looks like a fit and fabulous forty-year-old male in his prime. It's a good thing his pheromones don't work as well on vampires or the master in his city would be in big trouble.
Jon's surprise shows clearly on his face. “You want me to call in my old pack and see if they can fly out to help?”
“I'm not sure yet. What do all of you think?” I counter.
Rafe looks off into the distance before replying. “I think it's a good idea. I have a feeling things will get worse before they get better.”
“More bodies will help us track this guy faster,” Asa adds.
Jon gets up and starts to pace the room. “There are a lot of variables in play here. We still need you to call the tribunal to confirm,” he looks my way as he says this, “it could be Ivan.” He stops pacing, looking at the whole group at the table. “Or, we could set up a trap.”
He's mirroring what a lot of us have already thought of, but what or who to use as bait?
“I'm not going to risk Dria's safety. She will not be bait,” Rafe's firm voice declares in the ensuing silence.
I snort out my nose. Like I have anything to fear from this whack job. Rafe knows that, so I wonder what this show of worry is all about.
“I prefer to remain on the sidelines,” I add, “and protect what's mine. Not to worry, dear. How about using Drew? I'm pretty sure that he is the one that led Ivan here.”
Asa perks up at that. “By chance or on purpose?”
“I'm not sure,” I reply. “It does seem a bit coincidental, but my gut says by chance.”
“I'm going to do some checking up on Drew's whereabouts before he arrived to be sure. I'll put in a call to Cy and we can work on it together.” The spark of excitement in Asa's voice is unmistakable. It's clear to me that this is a man who enjoys action above all else.
“I'll call Romeo and see how soon he can get here with some wolves.” Jon looks pensive.
“You okay with including him?” I ask.
“Yes.” Jon looks me dead in the eye. “I just don't want him too close to you.”
Rafe shifts in his chair. That furry fucker. I'm not going to tolerate another randy wolf drooling after you.
My peal of laughter diffuses the tension that sprang up at Jon's statement. “Not to worry, I think I've got all the alpha males I can handle right now.”
Asa clears his throat, bringing us solidly back on track. “Do you have a weapons cache here?”
I raise an eyebrow as I look over at him. “I'm the weapon. We've never needed anything more.”
“Uh-huh, yeah. Well, fifteen miles is pretty damn big and you can't be everywhere at once. We need more.”
He's right, but it is what it is, and I've got nothing to give him.
“We've got the sparring room. It has the weapons locker for the full combat matches.” Rafe smiles in my direction. We almost never draw blood when we fight, but we have a damn fine time trying to hack our clothes off each other to the grand finale on the floor.
“No projectiles?” Asa clarifies.
“Nope,” Rafe answers. “Guns aren't usually something we'd use in combat sparring.”
“What about the guests?” Jon reminds us all. “You going to tell them what's going on?”
Three sets of eyes swing to me. “No. Not unless I have no other choice.”
Jon sighs. “Alright, it's your call. I don't agree, but it's good enough for now. Here,” Jon reaches for his cordless phone and hands it to me, “might as well make that call to the tribunal.”
Crap! I reach to accept it, scrambling for a suitable comeback to get myself out of having to make this call. I find none. In the retelling of a story, the heroine always sounds like she knows what she's doing at all times. In reality, when things are happening, did she really know? Or did she fly by the seat of her pants a lot like me? Sometimes I wish my life were like that. Then I could sit back and write it all out and wrap it up with a happy ending.
Realizing I have no other option, I dial the tribunal. A glance at my watch confirms it's after seven. I know it's way past nightfall in Argentina. Unfortunately, I shouldn't have any trouble getting someone on the phone. Damn, sometimes my luck does wear out.
After several minutes and three transfers, an inner circle tribunal member comes on the phone. “Yes? Am I correct in my information?” Warm, flowing Spanish-accented tones reach through the phone and wrap around my senses. “Is this the famous Alexandria the Great?”
I'd recognize the sultry voice of Rolando anywhere. He's a little older than me and worked as a gopher for some of the great ones when I was an enforcer. “Yes, Rolando. It's me.”
Asa's eyes go round at the title, but I'm guessing he's still too young to have heard the tales. Rolando gave him something new to look up and research. Great.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of this call?” Rolando asks.
“I'm calling to ask about a verdict the tribunal made on a criminal from eight years ago.”
“Hmmm… interesting. A name would help narrow it down.” I can hear his sexy chuckle come over the line. Damn, he's really good with his voice. I'd almost forgotten.
“Ivan. The one who tortured his mate for over a year, took her free will from her and raped her repeatedly?”
“Ahh, yes, that one.” His voice holds a hint of disgust. “He was sentenced to a decade in silver, but was released early for good behavior.”
My blood starts to boil. Even though I expected to hear it, it doesn't make it any easier. “Why wasn't he killed? And why wasn't I notified of his release?”
Rolando's voice turns firm. “It was a decision of the ancients not to kill him. He did not violate the edicts of exposure to our kind with his actions, nor did he kill a fellow vampire unprovoked. No matter how gruesome his actions, the old ones felt he could be corrected and were not willing to destroy him.”
“Correct him? How? It's not like they offer counseling down in that hole.”
“He did have visits from members associated with the tribunal.” His way of saying flunkies of the ancients. Those ambitious vampires who hope to make it to a seat in the inner circle one day. “Some of them had the ear of quite a few senior members.”
Insert here: They were screwing them.
Damn.
“Anyone I know?”
His laughter reaches across the miles. “You always were the clever one, two steps ahead of the other killers. We haven't had an enforcer like you since you left. No one ever got away from you. You still hold the record for the highest number of kills, you know.”
I could care less and this was revealing way more to Jon and Asa's super hearing then I had wanted. “Names, please?”
“Well, Dimitri's still here. You know how he feels about you.”
Dimitri was very, very close, and I do mean in a biblical sense, to one of the old ancients I convinced to walk into the sun. As far as I knew, he still couldn't connect Victor's death to me. Dimitri knew I had hated that son of a bitch with all of my heart. I certainly wasn't sad when Victor committed an assisted suicide, but Dimitri sure was. He saw the pedophilic ancient vampire as his ticket to a seat on the circle and I delayed his plans by a century. “And then, there's Jonah. Whatever did you do to that man?”
I stole his heart and crushed it, but I'm not going to tell Rolando that. It was centuries ago and I had hoped Jonah would let bygones be bygones sooner or later.
“Neither would have overseen Ivan's release. Do you know who did?”
Someone pointed Ivan in Angie's direction and I'm betting Dimitri is too smart to get his hands dirty.
Rolando is quiet for a few seconds. “It was an enforcer. A newer one, she has been in service for about five years. Her name is Emiko. I don't know her well yet.”
“Would she have been privy to Ivan's records prior to his release?”
“If she requested to see them, yes. I don't think she would have been denied. But you know as well as I do that not all enforcers care about the details. Some simply follow orders. That was nearly two years ago.” He finally comes around and asks what I thought he would have asked sooner. “Tell me why you need to know this now. What has happened?”
I look up and meet Rafe's eyes. He nods. He wants me to trust Rolando and tell him what is going on. God, this rubs me the wrong way. I grit my teeth once then release my jaw.
“We've got a problem up here.” I fill him in on the killing, Drew's wife Angie being murdered, what I saw in Sheba's head, the sabotage at the power plant and finish with Jon's half-wolf getting torn up. I leave off the bit about the wrong scent.
Honestly, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and sounds like a duck, well, more than likely, it's a damn duck.
Jon and Rafe are making motions at me, trying to get me to add the part about the scent. But I've made up my mind and I'm not going to humor them anymore. I wave them off, focusing on Rolando on the other end of the line.
“It does sound like it could be Ivan. I'll have to tell the ancients of these events, you know that.”
“Yes, I know.” Resignation colors my voice. I really don't like coming up on their radar anymore than I absolutely have too. “Malik and Coraline still there?” Two more old vamps who hate me. Damn, I really didn't socialize well four hundred and fifty years ago. I had a big chip on my shoulder and hated most of my own kind. Which made the enforcer part real easy to do.
Rolando chuckles again at my obvious displeasure. “Yes. You really did piss a lot of people off when you were here, didn't you?”
Jon cracks a smile at that one, doing a silent little clapping motion. He mouths Bravo at me with exaggerated mirth. Jerk.
I break into the humorous moment with the nitty-gritty. “Do I need a sanctioned kill from the tribunal, or will the ruling of 'breach on my territory and harm to those I protect' suffice?”
If we're going to kill this bastard I want to make sure I don't have old enemies coming after me for the hell of it.
A sigh reaches me from across the line. “No, you're good. I'll make sure I announce your intentions with my report on the incidents.”
Sensing the end of the conversation, Rafe motions with his hand at Asa. Damn, almost forgot. “Oh, one last thing, Rolando. Tell the record keepers I have a new member in my seethe. His name is Asa Monson. We'll send the details of his lineage in an email with Rafe's electronic signature as witness.”
“What?” Rolando sounds incredulous. “Alexandria the Great takes a member into her seethe? First time in over two hundred years?” Genuine happiness trickles into his words. “This calls for a celebration, I'll send you…”
I hang up the phone. I've said all I need to say and I'm tired of listening to the windbag. I glance up at the men. Asa looks concerned. Good. He should be. Jon appears to be thinking about all he heard. That bastard is probably cataloging all the possible new enemies he heard I had. Rafe smiles at me.
Good job, love. I know that wasn't easy for you.
He's right. It wasn't.
My body goes cold. Like an Arctic breeze came through the door, but it hits only me. I bolt to my feet.
“Something's wrong.”
I reach out with my senses. Closing my eyes, I extend beyond the cabin. I push my power out, down through my bloodline. I can connect with every living and non-living being on the property that has consumed my blood within the last month.
Tiny filaments of energy reach out from my core. They sweep out into the darkness, meeting a strong spark at every end. Except one. One is flickering and failing fast. It's dying. And someone is taking that life. A life that is mine.