Black Magic Rose (16 page)

The only movement Jankin made came from his right hand as his fingers worked the mouse. He was a man Dragomir admired, strove to be like. Reserved, usually, and naturally pensive and understanding, Jankin was one of the most powerful vampires Dragomir had ever met. A leader among leaders. A friend.
 

Dragomir swallowed the lump in his throat. His chest tightened.
What have I done?
 

Many others sought council from Jankin. Dragomir had witnessed Jankin pardon, even accept men and women he himself would not have thought twice of killing. Could Jankin pardon him for touching Sofia? If he could, would he?
 

A low hum of power emanated from Jankin. He was relaxed, not at all bothered by the events of the previous evening. In a state of rest he still gave off a vibe no one could miss. Even humans, dense to any metaphysical energy, felt it. They revered him, were drawn to him, trusted him. And they should. Above all else, Jankin loved humans. He had sworn his life to protect them from Bas Dubh.
 

Bas Dubh
. The black death.

It was the reason for all their troubles. The attacks. The threats. The wars breaking out across the globe. It was the excuse Jankin had used to lure Dragomir to Wooddale. Memories of Jankin fighting side by side with him flooded Dragomir’s mind. Swords in hand, covered in blood, dead enemies fallen at their feet. Together they’d fought many a long, miserable battle.
 

Jankin stormed many a compound, slaughtering followers of Kiernan. Vampires, wolves, and mind-washed humans alike. He had no tolerance for Bas Dubh. No ability to believe humans should be slaves. As long as he lived, he would never consider wolves second class to vampires or humans to be walking, talking meals. He would not allow any members of The Alliance to simply turn a human for fun or lust or one-sided love.
 

Respect was to be given to them or else plan to meet your death.
 

Dragomir stood silently in the doorway. Somehow all those hours of practice didn’t seem like enough. He clenched his fists. He was no coward. He would own his actions, tell Jankin everything, or at least an overview of everything. No need to bend his ear with details. Then, if Jankin didn’t kill him, he’d request a transfer back to Rome or out into the field in New England. Hand-to-hand combat was what he needed. It would clear his mind. Help him forget that damn woman.
 

Jankin’s green eyes narrowed. “You might as well ask.”
 

Dragomir stepped into the room. Jankin had always been a sentimental man. Portraits of his descendants hung about the room, one after another, so many of them with a likeness to Jankin.
Strong genes.
 

Pictures of Sofia and her mother and father adorned the wall to the left of Jankin’s desk.
 

On the bookshelves behind the desk albums of old photos, scrap books of clippings from newspapers hundreds of years old, written works from descendants long dead, trinkets belonging to others and locks of hair from babies filled the shelves.
 

One shelf held framed report cards belonging to Sofia, an original birth certificate, a picture painted for Jankin, marked grade three, prom pictures, announcements regarding her academic and athletic achievements.
 

Dragomir groaned.
 

“What it is?” Jankin finally looked at him. “Something’s been on your mind for several nights. Now’s the time.” Jankin motioned Dragomir toward a chair.

Dragomir couldn’t bring himself to look the man in the eye. He’d betrayed his friend. He’d broken his confidence. He’d molested the apple of Jankin’s eye.

“I…she—”

Jankin raised his hand. “Before you begin, tell me how the night went. Sofia was rather upset when she left. Called and banned me from the house. Och.” He shook his head. “She needs to understand the dangers we face.”

Dragomir nodded. “Agreed.” In all honesty he couldn’t have agreed more. She had no idea how dangerous her life had become. Even her guard couldn’t be trusted.

“I hadn’t anticipated Joachim’s loss of allegiance to The Alliance or to Fergus. We should have known it was coming. The wolf had been sneaking around for months. Commodus’s behavior was no surprise. His boldness knows no bounds, but he is a coward in the end.” Jankin leaned back in his chair. “How did the night go? Did she relax any? I hate for her to be so tense all the time. It’s unhealthy for a human not to find some release.”

 
Dragomir’s eyes widened for a flash. “Yes, she did seem to release…” He cleared his throat. “...relax.”
 

“She’s wound quite tightly, having to be as restrained as she is. She’s frustrated at not getting what she’s wanted.”
 

“I think her frustration might have diminished after last night,” Dragomir mumbled to his feet.
 

“Less violence? We’re at war. She doesn’t understand.” Jankin glanced toward the Sofia shelf. “War is violent.” He picked up a framed document. “But you wanted to ask me something.”
 

Dragomir finally looked at his boss. As Jankin admired the birth certificate a slight smile tweaked his lips.
 

“The Legend. It is true. Isn’t it?” Dragomir studied Jankin’s face, measuring every muscle and the millimeters of movement or lack thereof.
 

Jankin replaced the birth certificate on the shelf and turned back to Dragomir. “I wish I knew.” That same smile remained on his face. His eyes were gentle, amused. “I’ve nearly driven myself to madness trying to figure it out.”

“How could you not know? You were there.” Dragomir’s voice was gruffer than intended, but Jankin’s lack of commitment and foggy answer were unacceptable. Jankin must know the truth.

Jankin laughed. “I have been a bachelor all these long years including those twenty-eight I lived before the change. I held several women at that time, enjoyed my share, plus, but I never called one my wife, never tied myself to one to protect and cherish ‘til death or vampirism do us part.” His eyebrow ticked upward.
 

“Since I was turned, I’ve held hundreds.” His voice lowered. “Ah, more than that. This you know, old friend.” He sighed.
 

Dragomir shifted in the chair. He did know. In their younger days they’d caroused together. They knew each other’s histories. For the first time he wished he didn’t know Jankin so well. And God help him, he knew Jankin had far more knowledge about him than a grandfather should have about a man who touched his granddaughter.
 

“I left Scotland for a time.” Jankin’s gaze seemed to focus on some far away memory. “Nearly two hundred years later I returned to my lands and found the family living there, clearly mine. Eara was the name of the one woman I bedded before
and
after the change.” He reached for the whiskey on the corner of his desk, pouring some for himself and some for Dragomir.
 

“I could never know for sure if the conception happened before or after.” Jankin sipped his whiskey then stared down at the glass, watching the amber liquid roll around in his hand. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t wished it to be true.” He looked at Dragomir. Gone was the laughter from his eyes. Worry now plagued him.
 

“She can scent, Jankin.” Dragomir reached for the glass in front of him. “Me and the wolves. She spent yesterday practicing. Can even track me.” He shrugged. “And the wolves as well.”
 

“Many who spend time with wolves can scent them. This is nothing out of the ordinary.”
 

“Bull. We both know it’s odd for her to scent or track them. But let’s give her the ability to scent.” Dragomir drained his glass. “That still does not explain her ability to track me, my energy or the wolves.”
 

“I don’t believe her to be anything more than human, Dragomir. As much as I’d like to believe something different she is not my child.” Jankin sat back and sighed. “I’ve traced her bloodline. She is not mine.”

Dragomir bolted from his chair to pace behind it. “Let’s say she possesses a superior sense of smell than most humans. That does not explain her ability to track. If she was not conceived by a vampire, what explains this phenomena?”

Jankin poured himself another measure of whiskey. “I should have known you’d come to question me.”
 

“You dragged me here from the front. How could I not notice?” Dragomir slid his glass to Jankin and waited for another pour.
 

“She’d have died.” Jankin refilled Dragomir’s glass, eyes fixed on the smooth flow of liquid. “I couldn’t bear it.”

Dragomir listened. Something told him what he was about to hear might be worse than the idea of Sofia being part vampire.

“Helpless little creature, not even able to cry. It was a few weeks before her lungs were stable enough that she could howl out that first scream, a call to battle, to fight for her own life.” Jankin’s eyes misted. “A warrior from the first. Her father had been one of my best friends. How could I not save her?”

And there was the truth. Jankin had bound Sofia to him. His blood was probably the first thing she’d ever consumed. Vampire blood. So potent it could bring a dying man back from the brink. Vampires rarely shared. It was one of the laws of their society. Do not play with a human’s fate.
 

Only two occasions were considered acceptable for allowing a human to drink from a vampire. The first was simple. The creation of another vampire. Humans couldn’t be transformed without consuming the blood of a vampire.
 

The second was the marriage ritual. Vampires bound themselves to their mates. The sharing of blood was considered an intimate exchange, one done only when lovers made the highest commitment to each other—to live
for
each other and to die
with
each other.
 

“Who else knows?” Dragomir growled. A secret this dark had to be buried, hidden forever. Death was the penalty for such a crime.

Death for the vampire and the human.

“Noelle.” Jankin sighed like a burden had been lifted. “Not another soul. Not even Fergus.”
 

“Did you bind Noelle?” He knew it was foolish to question Jankin, but he couldn’t stop himself. Something forced him to demand answers, to know who he needed to monitor, who, if the need arose, he’d execute.
 

Jankin shifted in his chair, regarding Dragomir through narrowed eyes.
 

Dragomir leaned forward. “They would take her. They’ll use her.” He whipped away from Jankin unable to look at his mentor. “If the wolves ever realize she can track them…” He ran his hands through his hair and stared up at the ceiling. “…
our
wolves would not accept it.” And if that wasn’t bad enough, the idea of Kiernan taking Sofia, torturing and enslaving her entered Dragomir’s mind. “No one else must ever know.” He slammed his fist on the table. “Ever.”
 

“As I suspected you’ve come to realize her value. You now understand your importance in maintaining her safety.”
 

Value? He’d realized more than her value. For the first time in centuries a woman piqued his interest in ways only his beloved wife had. Sofia intrigued, surprised, beguiled, and befuddled him. She aroused feelings in Dragomir he’d forgotten ever existed.
 

She made him excited to rise in the evening.
 

Dragomir looked deep into Jankin’s eyes. The fleck of hazel slicing through the deep green of his irises glowed.
 

“I fully understand. Your life as well as hers would be ended. All our work against Bas Dubh would be for naught. Without you, The Alliance will not survive.”
 

“The Alliance would continue, just not as it has.” Jankin inhaled. “You smell of her.”

Dragomir held Jankin’s gaze. He’d come to confess. “Yes.”

Jankin’s presence swelled. His power prickled along Dragomir’s skin. His eyes flashed with an angry light and all his attention drilled into Dragomir. He was almost as good an interrogator as Dragomir. Almost, but not quite. Dragomir locked away many of the details of the evening’s events too personal to share with anyone. Many things a man did with a woman were meant to be kept private.
 

Jankin searched and Dragomir did not stop him, rather he allowed the master to know his thoughts and feelings for Sofia. It was necessary to ensure Jankin knew Dragomir would defend Sofia to his own death.
 

“I’ve seen the way you look at her.” Jankin stood and faced the bookshelf. He picked up a picture of Sofia as a young girl with pigtails. She was dressed like a pumpkin. “Like a man admires his woman.” His fingers traced the smiling face. “And I’ve seen the way she watches you. She would deny it, of course, but I’ve seen. I know she is drawn to you.”
 

Jankin replaced the frame, spun to face Dragomir and lunged across the desk, knocking him to the floor, his fist meeting Dragomir’s chin. “I am not ready to give her up.” Jankin’s words ripped through Dragomir’s mind. “She is like my own child.”

“But are you ready to die for her?” Dragomir withstood the blow and dodged a second, ending up across the room. “Would you give up your work to save her life?” Dragomir swiped away the blood running from the wound on his face. “I would.”