Absolution (6 page)

A
t just past six o’clock the next night, Will found Mirren’s Bronco near the Penton scathe’s safe house outside Durham and promptly changed his plans for spending his daysleep there. Obviously, if Mirren had been grabbed at the safe house, it wasn’t that safe. He’d have to let Aidan know it had been compromised.

He studied his GPS. It was only four hours from here to his father’s estate. He’d been right. If Matthias’s people had taken Mirren, they’d have driven him straight to the Orange County house.

Will had spent most of the drive planning a strategy. His father had a cell in the basement of the main house with steel bars coated in silver, which seemed the most likely spot for them to put someone like Mirren. The man was an absolute moose. He’d break out of anything with a normal door, although if he’d been locked up for more than a month, who knew what kind of shape he’d be in. Mirren might have been the Slayer at one time, and trained in his human life as some kind of super-warrior, but Will knew from experience what a sadistic freak his father could be.

He cruised through Durham, on the lookout for a good college hangout near the Duke University campus. Spotting a wine bar on Erwin, he parked and used the rearview mirror to make sure his blond hair was properly tousled, his brown eyes not too silvery with hunger. He was going for the horny college student look, not the stressed-out vampire mien. One of Aidan’s rules was no Penton scathe member fed by means of force—which meant enthrallment. Will agreed wholeheartedly.

Two coeds wearing tight sweaters and tighter jeans stopped and admired his car, then smiled and giggled when they saw him sitting inside, watching them. Perfect.

He opened the door and slid out. “Evening, ladies. I was just about to go inside and have a beer, and I hate to drink alone. Want to join me?”

Sure they did. Within a few minutes, he’d determined the dark-haired girl hadn’t been vaccinated and focused his attentions on her. A couple of drinks, a few kisses, and an invitation to ride in his car left him with a successful feed and her with an orgasmic experience she wouldn’t remember except for a nice hickey.

Will loved college towns. Part of the attraction of Penton, besides the safety and security and absence of his father, was the presence of a large state university less than an hour’s drive away. The students were young and full of life, and about the age he was when he’d been turned. He ft right in. When he was with a group of them, he could forget—at least for a few hours—that soon they’d move on to new chapters in their lives while he stayed in the same damn place.

Refueled, he dropped off Heather the Tri-Delt and headed north. He wanted to hit his father’s compound as close to dawn as possible. Since the safe house was compromised, no point in waiting until tomorrow night. He’d get Mirren out, and they’d find another spot farther south.

Plus, just before dawn, his father’s guards would be winding down and at their least alert. So would he, but he had the element of surprise on his side, plus his trump card. His father wanted Will back, doing his bidding—not dead. Will had no doubt Matthias might kill him if provoked enough, but his flunkies wouldn’t dare.

At least he hoped that was the case.

Dawn would break at 6:11 a.m., so Will parked on an outer side of the estate at 4:45, picking a spot closest to the servants’ entrance at the back of the house. Inside was a little-traveled maze of hallways to the kitchen, where the door to the basement lay. Will had spent his share of time in that barred cell over the years, thinking over his “misdeeds.” Imprisonment and starvation were favorite tactics of dear old Dad.

He slipped on a pair of gloves to protect his skin and geared up with the torch case and rope, knives and listening devices, then moved quietly across the wide lawn, maintaining cover behind trees, hedges, whatever was available. As he’d hoped, everything was quiet and sleepy in this hour before dawn, a good wind-down time for a vampire. Most of the humans there would probably be asleep except for those keeping company with vamps who liked a little action before their daysleep.

Will encountered the first guard outside the servants’ entrance. A young, long-haired vampire Will didn’t know sat on the steps of the low stoop, playing Scrabble on some kind of tablet computer, the crappy Muzak that came with the game sounding tinny in the thick predawn humidity.

Will considered sneaking up on the guy and doing a quick knockout, but where was the fun in that? He cleared his throat, and the idiot dropped the tablet with a circuitry-shattering crash onto the concrete steps.

“So sorry. One of those new Kindles, wasn’t it?” Will grinned at him. “How many points for the word
execute
?”

The vampire was new and not too bright, or he’d have had a gun within easy reach. That way, he could have either shot Will or at least alerted the other guards. Instead, he rushed at Will, fangs first. Flipping the guy onto his back and plunging the silver blade in and up below his rib cage was way too easy. Not a killing blow for even a baby vampire, but he’d be out for an hour or so while he healed. He’d live to play Scrabble another day if Matthias didn’t slaughter him for being an idiot.

Will pulled the coil of silver-laced rope from where he’d looped it around his belt and cut off a two-foot length with his knife. He hog-tied the guard and left him on the grass beside an overgrown holly bush, a crush of broken innards from the tablet computer stuffed in his mouth. “You’ll thank me for this one of these days. Be sure and tell Matthias that his baby boy said hello. On second thought, tell him William said go to hell.”

He dug in Hog-tied’s pockets for his keys and fished them out. After a few tries, he unlocked the back door and slipped inside, closing his eyes and filtering through the scents of vampires and blood.

It had been at least twenty years since Will had been in this house, but he remembered it with the detail etched of vivid experience. The servants’ door had been his preferred escape route, especially in those times when he was still human and living with a vampire father. He’d slip out and stay with friends during daylight hours, trying to keep life as normal as possible. After he’d been turned, he’d adapted to nightlife.

At twenty-two, the notion of being young forever had seemed exciting, and he’d gone along with his father’s plans. Now, after a couple of decades of looking barely legal, he’d begun to second-guess his easy compliance. But it wasn’t like his dad wouldn’t have forced him to cooperate, as Matthias had made perfectly clear. Will could either be turned by choice or under duress.

Even after all this time, he navigated the maze of hallways with sure steps, pausing at corners and scenting for trouble, easing past doorways, placing listening devices in obscure intersections. They probably wouldn’t yield any information—it wasn’t like he could stride into his father’s study and plant a bug under his desk. Still, it couldn’t hurt.

Finally, he came to the kitchen—the least used room in any vampire home. He skirted the kitchen island and turned the knob to the basement door.
Locked, damn it
. Kneeling, he studied the lock set—standard dead bolt.
No problemo.
Surely one of the guard’s keys ft this lock; if not, he could pick it.

“Any reason I shouldn’t slit your throat here and now?” Will felt the cold edge of a blade against the side of his neck and froze. He’d know that voice anywhere.

“Evening, Shelton. I guess the best reason not to kill me is that my father would send you to your final death. Gotta admit, it’s almost worth it to get rid of a piece of trash like you, but not quite.”

A sharp intake of breath, then Shelton uttered one fat word: “William.” The pressure of the knife blade disappeared, only to be replaced by a hand at the back of Will’s shirt collar, pulling him to his feet. He slipped the keys in his pocket and wrapped his fingers around one of the combat knives.

Shelton still resembled a weasel—small head, round ears, beady eyes—only a lot thinner. Life with Matthias must not be a banquet these days. A couple inches shorter than Will’s six feet, Shelton had the same thinning white-blond hair and cruel mouth that played a starring role in way too many of Will’s bad memories. The man held his knife in a defensive posture.

“Your father is going to—”

Will moved fast, flicking his knife open one-handed and sweeping it across Shelton’s throat, which erupted in a spray of blood more pink than magenta—the sure sign of a hungry vampire. He crumpled to the sparkling white tile foor, and Will moved aside to avoid the splatter.

Shelton was both blood-bonded to Matthias and a master vampire, which meant his mental skills had developed enough to communicate telepathically, at least for short distances. Will could only hope he’d cut him before Shelton got off a mental alert to Matthias. Matthias would know something was wrong, but Will was betting on his father’s arrogance. Matthias would leave Shelton to get out of trouble by himself, not suspecting it had anything to do with Mirren.

He debated finishing the asshole off. God knows Shelton deserved it. He was a bully who got off on pain—others’, not his own.

Will lowered his knife to Shelton’s chest, plunged it in, but found he couldn’t make the final cut to skewer the heart. Killing in self-defense was one thing; this would be murder. Then how would he be any different than his father?

The custom-made combat knife had a blade of pure silver over steel, so it would take Shelton a while to regain consciousness. Will figured he had at least fifteen minutes, assuming Matthias didn’t show up.

The guard’s key ring held a half-dozen keys, none of which ft the lock. Will knelt again, using a screwdriver and a lock pick to ease the delicate mechanism open. The click of the bolt sliding back seemed to echo through the cavernous kitchen.

Will stilled and waited, listening, but heard nothing. Easing the door open, he grabbed his torch case, went down a couple of steps, and softly shut the door behind him. He stopped at the bottom of the staircase.
What the hell?

Mirren sat on the floor of the cell, cradling a woman in his arms. Human. Unvaccinated, from the scent. But he wasn’t feeding, at least not anymore. He was watching her with an expression Will couldn’t identify—it wasn’t Mirren’s usual scowl or his condescending stare. “ ’Bout damned time you got here, William.” Well, the man’s mouth still worked, at least, and his senses too—he’d never looked up.

“You OK, big guy?”

Mirren laid the woman carefully on the concrete floor and got to his feet, moving like an eighty-year-old arthritic. “Nothing getting out of this hellhole won’t cure. You got keys?”

“Nope, gonna have to bust you out, and fast. Daylight’s coming.”

“Aw, fuck me. Silver bars, remember, Junior? Otherwise, you think I’d still be sitting in here?” Mirren walked to the front of his cell, and Will got a better look at him. Hell, the man could’ve come from a vampire concentration camp. His sweater hung loose off his shoulders. His close-cropped black hair had grown out a little, his beard had grown in, and even if he’d just fed from that woman, his eyes were more platinum than their usual gray. “What did you bring to cut through this silver?”

“Firepower, my man. Move to the back wall, and take your…friend with you unless you want her torched.” Will peered at the girl. He’d seen homeless women out of the inner city with more spark in their demeanor than this chick. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I enthralled her—drug withdrawal. Just get moving.” Mirren picked the woman up and laid her on a bench in the back of the cell, then propped himself against the far wall.

Will pulled out the small gas torch, flicked the starter, and began burning through the silver from the floor up. The bars melted slowly; he’d be out of time if he waited until he cleared enough space for Mirren to walk six foot eight of vampire through. “Think you can crawl out without burning yourself? We’ve gotta get moving.”

“I’ll manage.” Mirren started toward the small opening, then paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Well, shit.” He returned to the bench and picked up the girl.

“Leave her here, Mirren. She’s a junkie, and we have enough prob—”

“She’s coming.”

Will frowned. “You’re not thinking straight, man. If Matthias has any kind of bond with her, he’ll be able to fnd—”

“She’s not bonded to him. She’s coming.”

Mirren put the girl down, stripped off his grimy sweater and laid it on the floor, then laid the girl on it and slid her close to the opening. “Pull her through.”

Being held captive and starved for a month hadn’t made the man less bossy, even if his ribs were showing beneath those muscles. Will took the edges of the black sweater, wincing as the hot metal from the silver on the floor burned into his fingers, and jerked her through the opening. Mirren followed, sliding on his back but running out of steam halfway under the burned-through bars.

Will grabbed him under the arms and pulled him clear. “Gotta go now. If my father doesn’t already know I’m here, he will soon. Shelton’s taking a nap on the kitchen tiles.”

Mirren climbed to his feet, still moving slowly, and propped an arm against the wall to get his balance. “Why didn’t you kill the bastard?”

Will didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure if he really didn’t want to be like his father or if he didn’t have the killer instinct most vampires seemed to have when they were turned. He’d killed a few times, but always in self-defense, and even then, he hadn’t liked it.

Mirren didn’t ask again, just leaned over to pick up the girl.

Will stopped him. “I’ll get her—you start up the stairs, you old bag of bones.”

That Mirren didn’t curse at him or argue was more proof of what bad shape the big guy was in. Will picked up the girl and threw her over his shoulder in a freman’s carry before heading up the stairs. Mirren didn’t even like women—well, he liked them, but he didn’t
like
them. Hell, except for Aidan, Mirren didn’t like anybody.

Will couldn’t wait to hear the story behind the mystery junkie.

CHAPTER 6