Die for love, p.4
Die for Love, page 4
Evangeline slashed a hand through the air and commanded sharply, “Enough. This is getting out of control. Which is precisely the problem we have with you and your friends.”
Friends. Michaela barely controlled a smile. It occurred to her that with friends at her back—especially the kinds of friends she had—she was much stronger than she’d been before. She lifted her chin and said, “Who my friends are is my business. Not the Council's.”
“Wrong,” Evangeline retorted. “Your friends, especially the vampires, are a real threat. They’re making you forget the vows you've taken to this Council.”
“Vows like those that sentenced Bartholomew to death? Or like the one you intended to fulfill by terminating Benjamin, simply because he was mortally wounded?” Michaela challenged with a stab of her finger at Evangeline.
The revelation drew shocked gasps from the other elders. Evangeline bristled. “Benjamin was dying. I only meant to end his suffering.”
There was a hollow ring to her words that was not missed by anyone in the room. There had been more to Evangeline’s desire to rob Benjamin of those final minutes of life than she was letting on. Possibly a wish to hide the events of that night altogether. But then Michaela had gone and spoiled that possibility by inconveniently surviving.
Thanks to her friends.
Seizing on the disquiet her last comment had created, Michaela took command. “You called me here, Evangeline. You and the rest of the Council. I know you intend to punish me, but I was not at fault for what happened.”
“You failed your mission,” Evangeline snapped.
With a calculated smile, Michaela got right in the other woman’s face and said, “My mission was to stop a rogue Slayer. I did that in the best way that I could.”
“But it wasn't good enough,” Anthony shot back, earning a warning glare from Evangeline at his interference.
Michaela glanced from the two of them to the rest of the Council elders. There was an unease there that went far beyond Jesus's presence, or hers for that matter. Unease and, if her Slayer senses were picking up on it correctly, fear.
Of her?
“We called you here to answer for your failure,” Evangeline said, “but it's a complicated issue. Your position as a Slayer has always been fraught with dissent.”
“Because I'm an abomination,” Michaela taunted, using the insult the other woman had called her once too often.
With a disdainful sniff, Evangeline ignored the jibe. “Your involvement with the vampires has weakened your resolve to do what is right. We cannot tolerate that in one of our members.”
Members? Did she mean Council members?
She must have misunderstood. “Well, I am one of your Slayers, whether you like it or not. And there’s nothing wrong with my resolve, nor my sense of what’s right.”
“I didn’t say Slayers. I said members,” the elder snapped. “Are you dense on top of being reckless?”
Michaela blinked. And said in astonishment, “Wait. You want me on the Council? Me? You despise me. You all despise me.” She swept her gaze over the group.
Evangeline’s eyes narrowed dangerously. The other elders shifted in their seats and looked at one another uncomfortably.
She felt Jesus's gentle touch on her back, warning her to be calm. Impulsiveness, which was her general state, was a weakness that had already cost her far too much.
Sucking in a deep breath, her tones more neutral, she put her hands on her hips. “Well. Not the punishment I expected, being on the Council. But trust me, still a punishment.”
“You are insolent. The most powerful usually are...until someone cuts them down to size,” Anthony warned.
“Is that the plan, if I don't go along with this? You'll cut me down? End me like you planned to end Benjamin?” She was treading on thin ice, but needed to know what she was facing. She hadn't survived this long on her own without being prepared.
“You have one month to give us your decision. One month to rid yourself of any trappings that may affect your judgment,” Evangeline said, eyeing Jesus as though he were something on the bottom of her shoe to be scraped off.
Michaela wanted to tell the elder straight away that she didn't need a month to decide. There was no way she’d renounce Jesus or any of her other newfound friends. Certainly not in exchange for the cold and deadly embrace of the Council.
But she suspected such a response would seal the sanction for her death. Better she take the month, to plan. To find a way to protect herself, and Jesus and those friends who had come to mean so much to her in such a short time.
“Fine. You'll have your answer in one month.”
With a nod, the elder dismissed her.
But Michaela was not about to be dismissed. She took a moment to meet the gaze of each of the elders, directly and without fear, so they would understand that she would protect what was important to her. Then she did a slow turn and met Jesus's gaze. She saw pride in his eyes, as well as concern.
Join the club.
Side by side, she and Jesus walked out of the chamber, into the service tunnel located far below Grand Central Terminal. Inside the meeting chamber it had been tomb quiet, but out here the rumble of trains overhead and low drone of the dynamos that powered them were nearly deafening.
And there was something else. The air was charged with electricity from the generators, and it interfered with her being able to detect the elder powers just feet away. Maybe that was the reason they’d chosen this location to meet.
They were afraid.
Once again she wondered why they had not yet found two elders to replace those who’d been lost.
And why, of all people, Michaela had been one of their choices.
“Are you okay?” Jesus asked, the hand that had been at the small of her back slipping around her waist.
“Something is wrong here. With them.” She urged him from the room, needing to be somewhere else where the noise and electricity wouldn't interfere with her senses and her thoughts.
They hurried up a level and ducked down a small access hall until they reached a door that opened onto the lower-level dining concourse. Late-afternoon diners scurried from one food stand to another, either lingering for lunch or planning ahead for a takeout dinner.
Michaela had barely gone a few steps when Jesus tugged her to a halt. She turned a questioning look at him, and he offered her a smile as he drew her into his arms.
“You're not alone,” he said.
“I know, J.” Although he had been silent for the meeting, his hand at her back had been a constant, grounding her. Providing her silent support. “It's just...confusing,” she admitted.
“Yeah, I can imagine. So what do you want to do now?”
“I want to go home,” she said, surprising them both that his apartment was the place she wanted to be.
Jesus smiled. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”
Chapter Six
Connall Burk glared at the young vampire who had dared to interfere with his night's entertainment—a ménage à trois.
“You said this was important,” he said as he shoved away the limp body of the woman from whom he had just fed. She sprawled naked on the dark blue sheets, his bite vivid on her neck. Her skin was pale from the loss of blood, but even with that, the flush of desire still stained her breasts and mound, tempting him.
He laid a hand on her breast, touching her while his second companion pouted prettily as she sucked greedily on his cock, trying to please him in hopes he would give her his undead kiss and the passion that came with it.
The young vampire's gaze moved hungrily from one woman to the other before he swallowed roughly and looked at Connall again. “I was hunting last night when a young woman dropped down in front of me.”
Connall forced back a moan as the woman's particularly talented tongue swirled around the head of his cock. “Dropped down? Suicide?”
“Slayer.”
“You're lucky to be alive, Kieran,” he said. The woman beside him roused slightly from the stupor of his feeding and he tweaked her nipple more forcefully, dragging a gasp from her.
Kieran licked his lips and Connall could sense the youth's growing desire through the blood connection they shared as sire and fledgling. But before he would allow Kieran to come and play, he wanted to know what was so pressing that his pleasure had been interrupted.
“Why are you here?” he asked, wanting to get on with the night's feeding and fucking.
“The Slayer was a dhampir, Master. I sensed her vampire power. She was your fledgling.”
“Mine?” He stilled his caresses and laid his hand on the woman’s head to stop her. "Are you sure?"
“As certain as I can be, sire. It was in Union Square and I was close to her, but then another Slayer arrived. It looked like there was trouble between them.”
Rumors had been swirling for months about chaos inside the Slayer ranks resulting in a decline in their vigilance—and many more happy vampires, busily feasting. That the chaos had been caused by one of their own was even more satisfying to vampires like him, who had been forced to avoid the Slayers for centuries while they satisfied their natural instinct for blood and sex.
The possibility that he was somehow connected to a Slayer was intriguing.
“Union Square, you say?” he asked as he moved off the bed and grabbed his clothes, earning the protests of his companions, who then shrugged and started pleasuring each other.
“Yes, sire,” Kieran said as he watched the two women.
Connall smiled and tossed his head in the direction of the females. “Help yourself, Kieran. No sense both of us missing out on the fun.”
He yanked on his combat boots and, in a blur, zipped from his Lower East Side basement lair onto the fire escape. It rattled from his weight as he leapt to the rooftop. Rushing across the flat tar roof, he jumped to the next building, gathering speed in his haste to reach Union Square.
He flew from rooftop to rooftop, embracing the night and the freedom it provided. His heart pumped and his blood raced from his earlier snack, his cock still hard and ready for action.
Connall hoped his fledgling would be able to control himself from draining the two women completely. It wasn't easy to learn restraint when one was so young. Then again, he wasn't very good at it himself. He had lost count of how many women he had either turned or killed as he raped them. He often enjoyed the fight more than the fuck.
Just before Union Square he hurtled across one last rooftop and reined himself in. He strolled to the edge of the building and gazed down at the square and the streets surrounding it. Pedestrians hurried down Broadway and to the various restaurants tucked along Union Square West. Even more humans lingered in the park, especially dog owners near the dog run. He generally avoided people with canines. Animals were highly aware of the undead and could present an unwanted problem during an attack.
He opened his vampire senses, seeking the energies of any non-humans.
Nothing.
Worse yet, there was still too much foot traffic to risk grabbing anyone to satisfy his piqued hungers. He needed to wait until he could cull someone away from the crowd and find a more intimate place for his feeding.
He was about to return to his lair when the low throb of immortal energy wafted upward from the streets below. Familiar energy, awakening his blood connection. The pulse was intermittent, but between the peaks and swells came a burst of incredible power.
Slayer power. But also vampire.
He scanned the street below, trying to home in on the hybrid vitality. Zeroing in on the origins of the unique power, he saw several people in the area, but couldn't pinpoint the source. Nor did any of them look familiar. Then again, maybe that was to be expected. He’d turned or killed a lot of humans.
Determined to locate the source, he ran to the edge of the building and dropped into the narrow alley between the two structures. He raised his head like a dog seeking a scent, and the beat of the unique vitality registered against his senses. He chased after it, but cautiously.
If he could sense the power, so could the Slayer.
He realized the gap between him and the Slayer was narrowing. A moment later, a couple strolling a few yards of ahead of him stopped and broke apart.
The man was big and powerful. As he turned, a winter breeze lifted his suit jacket, revealing a badge and a lethal-looking semi-automatic handgun that looked a lot like an Uzi.
If the man was the Slayer, he would be a dangerous foe with his size and weaponry. But as the petite woman with him moved away, Connall realized the thrum of immortal power was coming from her.
He quickly sized her up. She was five foot at best and lean, almost verging on thin, except for generous curves that her leather duster could not hide.
She took a step toward him and their gazes locked. Her eyes were blue. Like his...and yet not. Hers were bluer, almost shockingly so.
Instantly, he was transported back to another place and time.
To another woman...so like this one it was eerie.
Chapter Seven
“What's the matter, Michaela?” Jesus asked and came to stand at her side. Tension radiated from her body. As he tracked her gaze, he caught sight of a man standing a few yards away. He was staring at Michaela as if he were seeing a ghost.
“That man,” she said, and took a step toward him before stopping short, her body jerking as if shot.
“Christ, Michaela. What's wrong?” Jesus asked, and wrapped an arm around her waist as she wavered.
“No. No! It's not possible. Not after searching all this time.” She sounded distressed, and looked more agitated than he’d ever seen her before.
He glanced back at the man, but he had disappeared into the shadows.
“It's okay. He was just a vampire,” he reassured her, puzzled by her reaction.
“Not just any vampire, J.” She turned to look at him, her face ashen. “My God. That was my father.”
***
Jesus put a shot of tequila in front of Michaela and wrapped her hands around the glass since she seemed to be in a fog. “Drink,” he urged, worried about her.
She hadn't left his side since the incident on the street, huddling tight to him in the elevator, and following him to the kitchen table where she had dropped bonelessly into the chair.
Slugging back a large gulp, she grimaced and then coughed from the bite of the alcohol. That she’d actually obeyed him was possibly more worrisome than her near-catatonic state.
He shrugged off his suit and weapons sling that held his Tec-9 and sat in the chair next to hers, resting one arm across her shoulders to gently rub his hand up and down her bicep. In tiny bits the tequila disappeared, and so did his lover's unease.
Her declaration that the vampire watching them had been her father shocked Jesus. She hadn’t told him much, but he instinctively knew the man was responsible for molding Michaela into the driven, carefully guarded woman she was. Reason enough to hate the man. But Jesus suspected there was a lot more to it.
Leaning close, he kissed her temple. “Want to tell me what that was all about?”
She took a deep breath. “It's been eighteen long years since I've seen him. I wasn't sure I'd recognize him, but I did.”
“How can you be so certain?” he asked. She had yet to move her gaze from the glass in her hands.
“Blood calls to blood, J. The connection is strong. Undeniable. Plus, I’ve always thought I had my mother’s blue eyes, but I don’t. I have his eyes. I could see his eyes. They’re darker like mine.” Her tone was pained, as if she would poke them out if she could to avoid that link to her vampire father.
Jesus moved closer, wrapped his other arm around her waist, and leaned his forehead on hers, offering her comfort in the only way he could. Grateful that she would allow it.
For long moments they sat in silence, barely moving, their breaths slowly becoming one, until Michaela's breath hitched and a shudder shook her body.
The words burst from her, hurried and hushed, as if just saying them gave her pain. “I've been hunting him for so long. Searching for him. And there he was. Right in front of me. And I couldn't do anything. I've turned into that scared little girl hiding in the marsh grasses again. Listening to him kill my mother. Watching him drink her blood and—”
Her tears came and her body trembled so hard her bones seemed to rattle together.
Jesus tightened his hold, and she turned and buried her face against his chest. The heat of her tears wet his skin and shirt, but he didn't mind. Anything to ease her pain.
After she cried herself out, she moved away from him, dashing the remnants of tears away from her cheeks. Finally she met his gaze. “I'm sorry. It was just more than I could handle today.”
“Are you kidding? The Council. Your father. It's a hell of a lot to deal with in a day,” he said, hoping she would understand what he wasn't saying. That she didn’t have to deal with it all alone anymore. That he was there for her.
With a sad smile, she skimmed her fingers down his cheek. “And you're here to help, I know. But you can't watch my back every second of every day, J. I have to handle this myself.”
He arched a brow. “Sounds to me that's what the Council wants you to do—to go it alone. Without me. Without your friends.”
She shook her head and stroked his cheek again. “Not gonna happen. I meant it when I said that being on the Council would be punishment for me. I became a Slayer for one reason only—to be strong enough to kill my father once I found him.”
Jesus blinked, worry rushing back even stronger. “But now he's found you. What will you do?”
She started to pace. “Figure out how he located me and where his lair might be. Protect you. He's a sick bastard, J. He leaves a pile of bodies everywhere he goes. And he's sired quite a number of vampires. Vampires he can call to come and help him.”
It was a good thing he wasn't a man with a big ego, otherwise her “protect you” comment might have been a big ouch.
“We'll watch out for each other, Michaela. And we've got vampires we can call, too. Just tell me when you want to hunt him down.”
