Bannockburn Binding (Beloved Bloody Time) (11 page)

“And Tally is vampire,” Rob murmured. “With the symbiot.” Fear touched him. “What will happen to the babe when you return?”

Christian took a deep breath. “We don’t know,” he said flatly. “This has never happened to one of us before. We just don’t know.”

Rob turned to Tally. She was weeping, her face wet with tears.

“It’ll be alright, love,” he lied and took her into his arms.

Over Tally’s head, he caught Christian’s gaze. The man’s expression was wretched and Rob remembered that Christian and Tally had a history of their own, one that was informal, but complicated. How did Christian feel about Tally being in another man’s arms and pregnant—a gift that no vampire could ever give her?

* * * * *

Paris in 1781 was a grimy, perilous place to be. Ryan and Ophelia had been there a week before they caught scent of Ezra and his companion, Cáel Lawrence Stelios.

Dressed as merchant-class citizens, they had hovered around the entrance to the Palais du Louvre, changing clothes and their appearance as much as possible, but Ophelia always carried a reticule that was bright neon pink, with the stylized flag of the Worlds Assembly clearly marked on the front of it.

On the Sunday morning, when the poor lined the street to watch the Royal Family travel to church, hoping for a
livre
or two to be scattered from the carriages, they were approached by a hunched over, dirty man that smelled worse than most.

“Do you have a coin to spare, Monsieur?” he asked, in heavily accented French. “I have not eaten in a week.”

Ryan wrinkled his nose. “Or slept in a bed, either, I’m guessing,” he said quietly in English. “Stable, was it? Or pig sty?”

The man took a deep, shuddering breath. “Who are you?” he whispered, also in English. “Why does your lady carry such a purse?”

Ophelia displayed the purse so he could better see the symbol. “You like this decoration?” she asked.

“I know it,” he sighed.

“Cáel Stelios?” Ryan asked.

The man’s face rippled, as deep relief showed. For a moment Ryan thought he might cry. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he cleared his throat. “Thank god,” he said hoarsely. “I thought I was marooned in this terrible place.” There was nothing of the overbearing, rich and influential man left in him. Two weeks alone here, as a stranger with an English accent, would have provided him many life lessons he could not avoid by throwing money at them.

“Where is Ezra, your traveller?” Ophelia asked him.

“I can take you to him. But then you take me home, right?”

“First, let us see Ezra and we’ll strategize from there,” Ryan told him.

* * * * *

The pig sty was off to the side, but enough of the stench seeped through the rough wooden walls to make the first few minutes in the tiny, dark lumber room almost unbearable. Finally, Ryan’s senses adjusted to the onslaught and he could see into the back of the room. “Ezra?” he asked.

A low, agony-filled moan was his answer.

He moved forward.

“Watch, there’s a stool there,” Stelios called.

“I can see it,” Ryan assured him, concentrating on the bundled of rags at the back of the room, lying upon a pile of hay. Stelios had clearly done what he could for him.

“Ezra,” Ophelia called, slipping past Ryan to drop down by the bundle and gently turn it over.

The sight that greeted them caught at Ryan’s chest. The Ezra he had known had been tall, energetic and enthusiastic about his work, about history and the rights of vampires. Ezra had been passionate about life—
any
life—and his constant arguments with his sister had been the stuff of legend at the agency.

He would argue no more. His eyes rolled in his head and his skin was already showing the parched, crackling signs of advanced stasis poisoning. As Ophelia touched his shoulder, there was a dry sound, like cracking ice. She pulled her hand away and looked at Ryan with horror. She knew, then, that Ezra was beyond help.

Stelios crouched down with them. “I thought you people couldn’t get sick,” he said hoarsely. “I thought you lived forever.”

“When did this start to happen?” Ryan asked him.

“About the third day we were here, on the crossing from England. He didn’t seem himself. Whacked out, like he was on scratch acid or something. Then he’d snap back in. I asked him what was wrong and he didn’t believe me when I told him what he’d been doing. The talking to himself, that stuff. He insisted I get my tour, because I’d paid for it…” Stelios hesitated, dropped his chin. “I didn’t think demanding it would do something like this.”

“Most humans misunderstand us,” Ophelia said coolly.

“Then why don’t you tell people about yourselves more?” Stelios snapped back. “You stayed locked up in that goddam station of yours, keeping to yourselves…” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. This isn’t the place for it.” And he glanced at what was left of Ezra again.

Guilt was eating the man alive, Ryan realized. He got to his feet. “We brought things with us, including local money, so we can get you some food. Ophelia has some freeze-dried instant meals in her purse, so you don’t have to wait until I get back.”

“Where are you going?” Stelios cried, alarmed at being left behind.

“To where we hid the backpack. I will be back.”

Ezra began to convulse and as he moved he cried out in a strangled voice. The movement of his disintegrating body would have caused agony that had quite literally driven him beyond reason.

“Hurry, Ryan,” Ophelia said and he could hear the despair in her voice.

Chapter Eight

Tally tried to relax as the pressure cuff tightened around her arm. Lee’s eyes were on the old fashioned fob watch in his hand, though. His fingers on her pulse were cool and indifferent.

The pressure cuff released.

“Your blood pressure is a little high. Nothing too alarming,” Lee pronounced. “But some exercise might help.”

Rob shifted on his feet. “I can think of some exercise, sure enough.”

Tally caught Lee’s gaze and could feel herself blushing, as Lee’s brow lifted in silent comment. Lee straightened up, pocketing the watch and rolling up the cuff. “Exercise is exercise,” he said, in his soft drawl. “I’m not an ob-gyn, but Tally is in her first trimester, so sex is still perfectly safe.”

Rob scowled. “It is, is it? And when might I enjoy such a pleasure with my wife?”

Lee glanced at Tally. “That’s between you and Tally, I imagine.”

“No, it bloody well isn’t!” Rob exploded. He took three steps forward, so that he was face to face with Lee. Tally realized with a jolt that Rob was almost exactly the same height as Lee. It was just that Rob’s width—his shoulders—made him seem shorter.

Rob was angry now. This anger, she saw, had been building for a while. “Between you and the rest of your fancy doctors and specialists and cooks and o.b. genies and friends and everyone else who appears out of nowhere to pat Tally on the head or rub her belly and assure themselves she’s just fine, I haven’t been able to take my wife in my arms for a bloody week,” Rob growled. “And she’s my
wife
.”

Lee put the cuff on the table. He didn’t back away. “All these experts are necessary,” he replied evenly. “Nothing like this has ever happened in our history. For Tally’s sake, for the baby’s sake—”

“And what about for my sake?” Rob demanded.

Lee made no answer.

Rob nodded. “I thought so,” he said.

“It’s not meant like that,” Lee said quickly.

“No?” Rob shot back. “I might be just a savage, but I’m not ignorant. Not anymore.” He pointed to Tally. “Because of the stasis poisoning both my wife and child must leave me when the child is born. I’ll never see either of them again.
Ever
. You’ve got to great lengths to educate me on that painful fact.”

“Rob….” Tally began, her heart breaking.

But Rob held up his hand, looking at Lee. “I have these few short weeks with her,” he said. The anger had gone from his voice now. “That’s all I’ll ever get. You get eternity with her. Let me have my wife while I can.”

Lee opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t.

Tally held her breath.

Lee’s response, in the end, was to leave. He stepped past Rob without comment and walked out of the room. A few seconds later, Tally heard the outer door of the building close, too.

Tally didn’t realize she was crying until Rob dropped to his knees beside her chair and wiped her tears away.

“I won’t get to see you ever again, either, Rob,” she whispered. “Do you know how much that tears at me?”

“Leave it be, Tally,” he told her. “Leave it be for now. You’ll hurt the babe if you upset yourself too much.”

“How can I leave it be?” she cried. “Rob, I don’t know how I’m supposed to just leave you, when the time comes.”

His lips were on hers, hushing her. Telling her wordlessly of his love, making her forget everything but the joy of being in his arms. He carried her into the little room that was theirs and lay her upon the bed. His lovemaking was simple and sweet and still Tally found herself crying out in impassioned ecstasy.

And for a while she did forget that she couldn’t keep Rob forever.

* * * * *

“If this was a human agency, I’d be the one doing background checks,” Brenden Christos explained, shaking Charbonneau’s hand. Christos was a huge man, in all dimensions. He was tall, broad of shoulder, with a big smile, a loud voice, platter-sized hands, well-developed muscles. Charbonneau suspected the man’s laugh would be as large as his smile and his appetites—all of them—to be as grand. Charbonneau liked him on the spot.

“You can check if you want, but my family history is one long lie,” Charbonneau told him.

“Ah, the family-line model.” Christos nodded. “It’s always interesting investigating the ways we’ve found to pass amongst humans. The family-line is one of the most popular, next to the itinerant traveller.” Christos waved around the large room they were in. “What we really want, though, is your memories. That’s the real gold, for us.”

They were in a very large room, filled with digital equipment on desks, many of the desks with people working at them. One wall was transparent, showing the still breath-taking view of Earth with its dark-side up. Africa, with the mysterious middle almost completely black, was the feature of the hour. The corner of the room was divided off with clear partitions, to form an office. Christos’s office, Charbonneau assumed, as Christos was head of security.

The wall opposite the view of Earth was covered from one end to the other with a board that carried horizontal and vertical lines, with a list of names on the right. Travellers, Charbonneau assumed, and their current positions in history.

Justin returned, a pixie-like woman with him. The woman looked to be barely out of childhood, with coffee-cream skin, a mane of wild black hair that had been treated to shine different colours depending on how she moved in the light. Her eyes were enormous, innocent jewels of blue. Her hair and eyes were the most substantial thing about her and overpowered her petite and fragile frame.

She seemed to bounce right up to Charbonneau, crackling with energy. “Monsieur Villeneuve! Ooooh, but you are such a pretty one! Just like they said!” She walked right around him, inspecting him. She made a sighing sound. “Too much for my little body to bear.
Vous serez la mienne ce soir, oui
?” She smiled up at him, her chin dipped coyly, the big eyes staring at him.

“Pritti, give the man chance to draw breath before you proposition him,” Brenden growled.

“This is Pritti,” Justin explained. “She—” and he stopped with his hand in mid-air, clearly looking for a way to explain Pritti.

She slapped gently at Justin’s arm. “You didn’t introduce me properly!” she accused in her child-like voice. She spun on her toe to face Charbonneau again. “My name—my real name—is Volume 89345, File P3445.” She thrust out her hand in the old-fashioned way. “I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance,
Constant
Charbonneau Villeneuve, the Fourth.”

He found himself shaking her tiny hand in a knee-jerk response left over from centuries before. “You’re….” He, like Justin, couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I’m a Psi-File,” she said, in her high voice, and smiled at him. “Want to withdraw your hand now, Monsieur?” Then, before he could respond, she let go of his hand and spun on her feet again. “Oh, a demonstration! Please, please?”

Christos rolled his eyes. He seemed to be used to Pritti’s swift changes of direction.

Justin scratched his head. “Well, I dunno…we’re supposed to be seeing to yer training, mate. A demo wouldn’t be out of place.”

Pritti put her hands together and gave a little squeal. “Oooh, goody!” She bounced on the spot and turned to face Charbonneau.

“Before he meets Ryan or Nayara?” Christos asked.

“What’s he got in his pocketses, yes, hmm?” Pritti asked, sliding up against Charbonneau and looking up at him with her wide eyes.

“Something important to you,” Justin added. “Something that you know is there. Touch it. You can even curl your hand around it, if you want. And tell us what it is.”