Which was easy to do when you were a killer and you could dematerialized at your will.
Boo! had never been so fucking effective.
And yet there were issues. Having single-handedly decimated the lesser population in the Old World, they had had to find ways to keep their killing skills sharp. Fortunately, humans had stepped into the voidalthough, of course, he and his brothers had to remain in secret, with their true identities protected.
Enter the human urge for retaliation.
There was but a single laudable characteristic of humans and that was their wrath when it came to those among them who committed atrocities. By the vampires hunting down only rapists and pedophiles and murderers, their crimes were tolerated far better. Fate knew that if you went for the moral types, humans were like bees streaming out of a hive to protect their turf, but the violators?
Eye for an eye, their Bible said.
And with that, his band of bastards had their target practice.
It had been thus for two decades, always with the hope that their true enemy, the Lessening Society, would send more appropriate foes for them. None had come, however, and the conclusion forming within him was that there were no more lessers left in Europe and none due to arrive. After all, he and his males had traveled hundreds of miles in all directions each night on their hunts for human villains, so they would have run across slayers somewhere, somehow.
Alas, there were none.
The absence was logical, however. The war had changed continents long ago: Back when the Black Dagger Brotherhood had left for the New World, the Lessening Society had followed them like dogs, leaving the dregs behind for Xcor and his bastards to clean up. For a long while it had been enough of a challenge, the slayers continuing to make themselves available and the battles proceeding apace and the fighting good. But that time had passed and humans were no true match.
At least lessers could be an amusing challenge.
A feeling of dense dissatisfaction crowded him as he descended the rough-honed stairwell, his boots crushing an ancient, threadbare runner that should have been replaced generations ago. Down below, the huge space that unfolded was a cave of stone, with naught but a tremendous oak table set afore a hearth that was big as a mountain. The humans who had built this fortress had lined its coarse walls with tapestries, but the scenes of warriors astride steeds of worth had aged no better than any of the rugs had: The shredded, faded fibers hung dejected from their pinnings, the bottom hems growing eer longer until surely they would be floor coverings soon as well.
In front of the blazing fire, his band of bastards sat upon carved chairs, eating stag and grouse and pigeon that had been hunted upon the grounds of the estate and cleaned in the field and cooked in the hearth. They drank ale they steeped and fermented themselves in the root cellars beneath the earth, and they ate upon those pewter plates with hunting knives and stabbing forks.
There was little electricity in the manseno need for it in Xcors mind atall, but Throe had different thoughts. The male had insisted that there be a room for his computers and that required pesky wiring of descriptions that were neither very interesting nor terribly relatable. But there was a point to the modernization. Although Xcor didnt know how to read, Throe did, and humans were not only endless propagators of gore and depravity; they were fascinated by it as wellwhich was how prey was located throughout Europe.
The seat at the head of the table was open for him, and the second he sat down the others stopped eating, lowering their hands.
Throe was at his right, in the position of honor, and the vampires pale eyes were alight. How fare thee?
That dream, that godforsaken dream. In truth, he was scattered in his skin, not that the others would eer know. Well enough. Xcor reached forward with his fork and speared a thigh. By your expression, I would venture to say that you are with purpose.
Aye. Throe proffered a thick print out of what seemed to be a compilation of newspaper articles. On the top, there was a prominent black-and-white photograph and he pointed to it. I want him.
The human male depicted was a dark-haired tough fist with a broken nose and the low, heavy brow of an ape. The script under the photo and the columns of print were nothing but a pattern to Xcors eyes; however, he understood clearly the malevolence in that visage.
Why this particular man, trahyner? Even though he knew.
He killed women in London.
How many?
Eleven.
Not a square dozen then.
Throes frown smacked of disapproval. Which was a delight, really. He cut them up while they were alive and waited until they were dead to . . . take them.
Fuck them, you mean? Xcor ripped the flesh from the bone with his fangs, and when there was no reply, he cocked a brow. Do you mean that he fucked them, Throe.
Yes.
Ah. Xcor smiled with an edge. Dirty little fool.
There were eleven. Women.
Yes, you mentioned. So hes a rather horny little perverted fool.
Throe took the papers back and flipped through them, staring down at the faces of the worthless human women. No doubt he was praying to the Scribe Virgin at this very moment, hoping to be granted the opportunity to perform a public service for a race that was nothing but an induction ceremony away from being their enemy.
Pathetic.
And there would be no solo traveling for himwhich was why he looked so put upon: Alas, the oath these five males had taken the night of the Bloodletters incineration tied them to Xcor with iron cables. They went nowhere without his consent and approval.
Although when it came to Throe, that male had been bound to him far earlier than that, hadnt he.
In the silence, tendrils of Xcors dream resurged in his mindas did the burn of knowing that he had never found that wraith of a female. Which was not right. Although he was more than willing to be the backbone of myths within human minds, he did not believe in ghosts or hauntings or spells and curses. His father had been taken by something of flesh and blood, and the hunter in him wanted to find it and kill it.
What say you? Throe demanded.
So like him. Such a hero. Nothing. Or I would have spoken, yes?
Throes fingers started to tap against the old stained wood of the table, and Xcor was pleased to let him sit and play drummer boy. The others simply ate, content to wait for this battle to be resolved one way or the other. Unlike Throe, the rest did not care which targets were chosenprovided they were fed, watered, and well sexed, they were content to fight whenever and wherever were chosen for them.
Xcor stabbed another strip of meat and eased back into his massive oak chair, his eyes drawn to the decrepit tapestries. Within the faded folds, those images of humans going off to war on stallions that he approved of and weapons he could appreciate irked the shit out of him.
The sense that he was in the wrong place tingled along his shoulders, making him as twitchy as his number two.
Twenty years of no lessers and eradicating mere humans to keep up their skills was no kind of existence for his crew or himself. And yet there were some vampires who had stayed in the Old Country, and he had lingered on this continent in hopes of finding among them what he saw only in his dreams.
That female. Who had taken his father.
Where had all this tarrying gotten him, however?
The decision he had long toyed with crystallized in his mind once again, forming shape and structure, angles and arches. And whereas previously, the impetus had always faded, now, the nightmare gave it the kind of stay-power that turned mere idea into action.
We shall go unto London, he pronounced.
Throes fingers immediately stilled. Thank you, my liege.
Xcor inclined his head and smiled to himself, thinking Throe might get a chance to off that human man. Or . . . perhaps not.
Travel plans were indeed afoot, however.
NINE
ST. FRANCIS HOSPITAL CALDWELL, NEW YORK
Medical center complexes were like jigsaw puzzles. Except for the fact that their pieces didnt fit together nearly as well.
But that was not a bad thing on a night like tonight, Manny thought as he scrubbed in.
On some level, he was amazed it had all gone so easily. The thugs who had driven him and his patient here had parked in one of the thousand dark corners of St. Franciss outer edge, and then Manny had called the head of security himself, stating that he had a VIP patient coming in the back who required total discretion. Next ring-a-ding-ding had been to his nursing staff and the line was the same: Special patient coming in. Ready the third-floor OR on the far end and have the MRI techs ready for a quickie. Final dial had been to transport, and what do you know, they had shown up lickety-split with a gurney.
Within fifteen minutes of finishing the MRI, the patient was here in OR VII, getting prepped.
So who is she?
The question came from the nurse in charge, and hed been waiting for it. An Olympic equestrian. From Europe.
Well, that explains it. She was mumbling something and none of us could understand the language. The woman flipped through some paperworkwhich he was going to make sure he snagged after all this was through. Why all the secrets?
Shes royalty. And wasnt that the truth. As hed ridden along with her, hed spent the entire trip staring at her regal features.
Sap. Stupid-ass sap.
His head nurse glanced out into the corridor, her eyes wary. Explains the security detailmy God, youd think we were bank robbers.
Manny leaned back for a peek as he scrubbed under his nails with a stiff brush. The three who had come in with him stood in the hall about ten feet away, their huge bodies dressed in black with a lot of bulges.
Guns, no doubt. Maybe knives. Possibly a flamethrower or two, who the fuck knew.
Kinda cured a guy of the whole government-is-just-full-of-paper-pushing-pencil-necks idea.
Wherere her consent forms? the nurse asked. Theres nothing in the system.
Ive got all those, he lied. You have the MRI for me?
Up on the screenbut the tech says that its with errors? He really wants to redo.
Let me look at it first.
Are you sure you want to be listed as the responsible party for all this? Doesnt she have money?
She has to be anonymous, and theyll reimburse me. At least, he was assuming they wouldnot that he really cared.
Manny rinsed the brown blush of Betadine off his hands and forearms and shook them off. Keeping his arms up, he hit the swinging door with his back and entered the OR.
Two nurses and an anesthesiologist were in the room, the former double-checking the rolling trays of instruments set on blue surgical drapes, the latter calibrating the gases and equipment that would be used for keeping his patient asleep. The air was cool to discourage bleeding and smelled like astringent, and the computer equipment hummed quietly along with the ceiling lights and the operating chandelier.
Manny beelined for the monitorsand the instant he saw the MRI, his heart jumping-jacked on him. Going slowly, he reviewed the digital images carefully until he couldnt stand it anymore.
Looking to the windows in the flap doors, he remeasured the three men standing right outside the room, their hard faces and cold eyes locked on him.
They were not human.
His stare slipped to his patient. And neither was she.
Manny went back to the MRI and leaned in closer to the screen, like that was somehow going to magically fix all the anomalies he was seeing.
Man, and hed thought the Goateed Haters six-chambered heart was odd?
As the double doors opened and shut, Manny closed his lids and took a deep one. Then he turned around and confronted the second doctor who had come into the room.
Jane was scrubbed in so that all you could see was her forest green eyes from behind a plexi-surgical mask, and hed covered her presence by telling the staff she was a private doctor for the patientwhich was not a lie. The little ditty that she knew everyone here as well as he did he kept to himself. And so did she.
As her eyes shifted to his and locked on without apology, he wanted to scream, but he had a goddamn job to do. Refocusing, he pushed the things that werent immediately helpful out of his mind, and reviewed the damage to the vertebrae to plan his approach.
He could see the area that had fused following a fracture: Her spine was a lovely pattern of perfectly placed knots of bone interspersed between dark cushioning disks . . . except for the T6 and T7. Which explained the paralysis.
He couldnt see whether the spinal cord was compressed or cut through completely, and he wouldnt know the true extent of the damage until he got in there. But it didnt look good. Spinal compressions were deadly to that delicate tunnel of nerves, and irreparable damage could be done in a matter of minutes or hours.
Why the hurry to find him? he wondered.
He looked over at Jane. How many weeks since she was injured?
It was . . . four hours ago, she said so quietly no one else could have heard.
Manny recoiled. What?
Four. Hours.
So there was a previous injury?
No.
I need to talk to you. Privately. As he drew her over to the corner of the room, he said to the anesthesiologist, Hold up, Max.
No problem, Dr. Manello.
Angling Jane into a tight huddle, Manny hissed, What the fuck is going on here?
The MRI is self-explanatory.
That is not human. Is it.
She just stared at him, her eyes fixed on his and unwavering.
What the hell did you get pulled into, Jane? he demanded under his breath. What the hell are you doing to me?
Listen to me carefully, Manny, and believe every word I say. You are going to save her life and, by extension, save mine. Thats my husbands sister, and if he . . . Her voice hitched. If he loses her before he gets a chance to even know her, its going to kill him. Pleasestop asking questions I cant answer and do what you do best. I know this isnt fair and I would do anything to change thatexcept lose her.
Abruptly, he thought of the screaming headaches that hed gotten over the past yearevery time hed thought about the days leading up to her car accident. That damn stinging pain had come back the instant hed seen her . . . only to lift and reveal the layers of recollection he had sensed but been unable to call forward.
Youre going to make it so that I dont remember anything, he said. And neither will any of them. Arent you. He shook his head, well aware that this was far, far bigger than just some U.S. government special-agent spy shit. Another species? Coexisting with humans?
But she wasnt going to come clean with him on that, was she.
Goddamn you, Jane. Seriously.
As he went to turn away, she caught his arm. I owe you. You do this for me, I owe you.
Fine. Then dont ever come for me again.
He left her in the corner and went over to his patient, who had been oriented on her stomach.
Bending down beside her, he said, Its . . . For some reason, he wanted to use his first name with her, but given the other staff, he kept it professional. Its Dr. Manello. Were going to start now, okay? Youre not going to feel a thing, I promise you.
After a moment, she said weakly, Thank you, healer.
He closed his eyes at the sound of her voice. God, the effect on him of just three words from her mouth was epic. But what exactly was he attracted to? What was she?
An image of her brothers fangs filtered through his mindand he had to lock it out. There would be time to Vincent Price it after this.
With a soft curse, he stroked her shoulder and nodded at the anesthesiologist.
Showtime.
Her back had been Betadined by the nurses, and he palpated her spine with his fingers, feeling his way along as the drugs went to work and put her out.
No allergies? he said to Jane, even though hed already asked.
None.
Any special issues we need to be aware of when shes under?
No.
All right then. He reached over and swung the microscope closer into position, but not directly over her.
He had to cut into her first.
Do you want music? the nurse asked.
No. No distractions on this case. He was operating like his life depended on it, and not just because this womans brother had threatened him.
Even though it made no sense, losing her . . . whatever she was . . . would be a tragedy the likes of which he couldnt put into words.
TEN
The first thing Payne saw when she came awake was a pair of male hands. She was evidently sitting upright and in in some kind of sling mechanism that supported her head and neck. And the hands in question were on the edge of the bed beside her. Beautiful and capable, with their nails trimmed down tight to the quick, they were on papers, quietly flipping through many pages.
The human male they belonged to was frowning as he read and used a scribing utensil to make occasional notations. His beard growth was heavier than when shed seen it last, and that was how she guessed that hours had passed.
Her healer looked as exhausted as she felt.
As her consciousness surged forth eer further, she became aware of a subtle beeping next to her head . . . and of a dull pain in her back. She had a feeling that they had given her potions to numb sensation, but she didnt want that. Better to be alertas it was, she felt encased in cotton-wool batting and that was strangely terrifying.
Unable to speak as yet, she looked around. She and the human male were alone, and this was not the room she had been held within previously. Outside, various voices in that odd human accent vied for prominence against a constant stream of footsteps.
Where was Jane? The Brotherhood
Help . . . me. . . .
Her healer snapped to attention and then tossed his pages onto a rolling table. Surging to his feet, he leaned down to her, his scent a glorious tingle in her nose.
Hey, he said.
I feel . . . nothing. . . .
He took her hand, and when she could sense neither warmth nor touch, she became downright oerwrought. But he was there for her: Shh . . . no, no, youre okay. Its just the pain medications. Youre okay and Im here. Shh . . .
His voice soothed her as surely as a stroking palm would have.
Tell me, she demanded, her voice reedy. What . . . transpired?
Things went satisfactorily in the OR, he said slowly. I reset the vertebrae, and the spinal cord wasnt completely compromised.
Payne hitched her shoulders up and tried to resettle her heavy, aching head, but the contraption about her kept her right where she was. Your tone . . . speaks more than your words.
She got no immediate reply to that. He just kept soothing her with his hands that she could not feel. His eyes conversed with her own, howeverand the news was not good.
Tell. Me, she bit out. I deserve naught else.
It was not a failure, but I dont know where youll end up. Time is going to tell us more than anything else.
She closed her eyes for a moment, but the darkness terrified her. Throwing her lids open, she clung to the sight of her healer . . . and hated the self-blame in his handsome, grim face.
Tis not your fault, she said roughly. It is what is meant to be.
Of that, at least, she was sure. He had tried to save her and done his level bestthe frustration at himself was so very clear.
What is your name? he said. I dont know your name.
Payne. I am Payne.
When he frowned again, she was fairly sure that the nomenclature did not please him, and she found herself wishing she had been birthed to other syllables. But there was another reason for his displeasure, wasnt there. He had seen her from the inside and had to know she was different from him.
He had to know she was an other.
What you suppose to be true, she murmured, is not wrong. Her healer drew in a vast breath and seemed to hold it for a day. What goeth on in your mind? Speak to me.
He smiled a bit, and ah, how lovely that was. So lovely. Twas a shame it was not from humor, however.
Right now . . . He drew a hand through his thick, dark hair. Im wondering whether I should just let it all go and play dumb like I dont know whats going. Or get real.
Real, she said. I do not have the luxury of even a moment of falsity.
Fair enough. His eyes locked on her. I think that you
The door to the room opened a bit and a fully draped figure peered inside. Going by the delicate, pleasing scent, it was Jane, hidden beneath blue robing and a mask.
Its almost time, she said.
Paynes healers face became positively volcanic. I do not agree with this.
Jane came inside and shut them all in. Payne, youre awake.
Indeed. She tried to smile and hoped that her lips moved. I am.
Her healer put his body betwixt them, as if he sought to protect her. You cant move her. Its about a week too soon for that.
Payne glanced over at the curtains that hung from the ceiling to the floor. She was nearly certain there were glass windows on the other side of the pale bolts of fabric, and very sure that if that were the case, every one of the suns rays would pierce through when dawn came.
Now her heart pounded and she did feel it behind her ribs. I must go. How long?
Jane checked a timepiece on her wrist. About an hour. And Wrath is on his way here. Which will help.
Perhaps that was why she felt so weak. She needed to feed.
As her healer seemed on the verge of speech, she cut him off to address her twins shellan. I shall handle this here. Please leave us.
Jane nodded and backed out the door. But no doubt stayed close by.
Paynes human rubbed his eyes as if he were hoping that doing so would change his perception . . . or perhaps this reality they were stuck in.
What name would you want me to have? she asked quietly.
He dropped his hands and considered her for a moment. Screw the name thing. Can you just be honest with me?
Verily, she doubted that was a promise she could give him. Although the technique of burying memories was easy enough, she was not overly familiar with the repercussions of doing it, and her concern was that the more he knew, the more there was to hide and the more damage that could be rendered upon him.
What do you wish to know.
What are you.
Her eyes returned to the closed curtains. As sheltered as she had been, she was aware of the myths that the human race had constructed around her species. Undead. Killers of the innocent. Soulless and without morals.
Hardly something to crow about. Or waste their last few precious moments on.
I cannot be exposed to sunlight. Her gaze shifted back to him. I heal far, far faster than you. And I need to feed before I am movedafter I do, I shall be stable enough to travel.
As he looked down at his hands, she wondered if he was wishing that he hadnt operated on her.
And the silence that stretched out between them became as treacherous as a battlefield, and just as dangerous to cross. Yet she heard herself say, There is a name for what I am.
Yeah. And I dont want to say it out loud.
A curious ache began in her chest, and with supreme effort, she dragged her forearm upward until her palm rested over the pain. Odd that her whole body was numb, but this she could feel. . . .
Abruptly, the sight of him became wavy.
Immediately, his expression gentled and he reached forward to brush her cheek. Why are you crying?
Am I?
He nodded and lifted his forefinger so she could see it. On the pad, a single crystal drop glistened. Do you hurt?
Yes. Blinking quickly, she sought and failed to have him come into focus. These tears are rather irritating.
The sound of his laughter and the sight of his white, even teeth lifted her, even as she stayed upon the bed. Not one for crying, are you, then, he murmured.
Never.
He leaned to the side and brought forth a square tissue that he used to blot what ran down her face. Why the tears.
It took her a while to say it. And then she had to: Vampire.
He eased back down into the chair beside her and took elaborate care folding up the square and then tossing it into a squat bin.
I guess thats why Jane disappeared a year ago, huh, he said.
You do not appear shocked.
I knew there was something big doing. He shrugged. Ive seen your MRI. Ive been inside of you.
For some reason, that phraseology heated her up. Yes. You have.
Youre just similar enough, though. Your spine was not so different that I didnt know what I was doing. We were lucky.
For truth, she did not share that opinion: After years of caring naught for males, she felt a mystical pull toward this one, and it was the sort of thing she would have liked to explore had they not been where they were.
But as she had learned long ago, fate was rarely concerned with what she wanted.
So, he pronounced, youre going to handle me, right? Youre going to make this whole thing go away. He waved his arm in a vague manner. I wont recall this at all. Just like when your brother came through here a year ago.
You shall perhaps have dreams. Nothing more.
Is that how your kind have stayed hidden.
Yes.
He nodded and glanced around. You going to do it now?
She wanted more time with him, but there was no reason for him to see her feed from Wrath. Soon enough.
He glanced back at the door and then looked her straight in the eye. Will you do me a favor.
But of course. It would be a pleasure to serve you.
One of his brows flicked and she could have sworn his body threw off more of that delicious scent of his. But then he became utterly grave. Tell Jane . . . I get it. I understand why she did what she did.
She is in love with my brother.
Yeah, I saw it. Back . . . wherever we were. Tell her its cool. Between her and me. After all, you cant help who you fall for.
Yes, Payne thought. Yes, that was so very true.
Youve been in love? he asked.
As humans did not read minds, she realized shed spoken out loud. Ah . . . no. I . . . no. I have not.
Although even this short time with her healer was informing. He fascinated her, from the way he moved to how he filled out his white coat and blue dressings, to the scent of him and his voice.
Are you mated? she asked, fearing his answer.
He laughed in a hard burst. Hell, no.
Her breath left her on a relieved sigh, even as it was strange to think that his status mattered as much as it did. And then there was nothing but silence.
Oh, the passing of time. How regrettable it was. And what should she say to him in these final minutes they had left? Thank you. For caring for me.
My pleasure. I hope you recover well. He stared at her as if trying to memorize her, and she wanted to tell him to stop trying. Im always here for you, okay? If you need me to help you . . . come and find me. Her healer took out a small, stiff card and wrote something on it. Thats my cell. Call me.
He reached forward and slipped the thing into the weak hand that rested oer her heart. As she gripped what hed given her, she thought of all the repercussions. And implications.
And complications.
With a grunt, she tried to shift herself around.
The healer was instantly on his feet. You need repositioning?
My hair.
Is it pulling?
No . . . please unbraid my hair.
Manny froze and just stared down into his patients face. For some reason, the idea of unraveling that thick rope seemed pretty goddamned close to getting her naked, and what do you know, his sex drive was all over it.
Jesus . . . he had a frickin hard-on. Right under his surgical scrubs.
See, he thought, this was the unpredictable law of attraction at work, right here, right now: Candace Hanson offered to blow him and hed been about as interested as he was in wearing a dress. But this . . . female? woman? . . . asked him to unveil her hair and he was all but panting.
Vampire.
In his head, he heard the word spoken in her voice with her accent . . . and the thing that shocked him most was his lack of reaction to the news flash. Yeah, if he considered the implications his motherboard started to spark and fizzle: Fangs are not just for Halloween and horror flicks anymore?