Forever Vampire (25 page)

T
HE FIRST ELF
shot pierced the windshield and stuck in the front seat next to Lyric's shoulder.

“Step on it!” Vail shouted.

“Where are they?”

He twisted on the seat, scanning the sky. “Above!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Lyric spied the glitter of wings—a lot of them—and turned the hulking limo down a narrow street. The car was too big to navigate with ease, and she cursed this alley, which was lined with garbage cans that buffeted the chrome bumper as the vehicle stormed through twice as fast as the speed limit allowed.

“You want me to drive?”

“Are you kidding me?” she said. “I do have a driver's license, thank you very much. I don't see them anymore. How did I see them?”

“Must have caught a glimpse of them from the corner of your eye.”

The passenger window broke and Vail yelped. He pulled the arrow from his shoulder. “They're using elf
shot. Get inside a building, or parking lot. Someplace we can ditch the car and go on foot.”

“Are you okay? Is that going to hurt you now you're not a, you know?”

“Dust freak?” He tossed the arrowhead out the window and shuffled off his jacket. “Here, put this on. It might help you see them.”

She struggled into the inside-out jacket. The spikes were dull but they still poked. Meanwhile Vail squeezed the wound on his shoulder, wincing as he forced out the blood. “If there's poison in it, I might be able to get it out.”

“You feel woozy?”

“No, and the wound isn't deep. I'll be fine. Don't take any more narrow streets, or you'll crush me.”

Before she could protest, Vail leaned out the passenger window and sat up on the door. What he was doing, without any weapons, was beyond her.

She wished she had some of the faery ointment around her eyes. If she could see the enemy, they would be easier to avoid. Would a reversed coat really work?

A piece of newspaper stirred up by the wind slapped onto the windshield and blocked her vision. Lyric swerved right. Vail's boot kicked the car roof and he swore. Something cracked the windshield. A body rolled off, leaving behind a wing wedged in the broken glass.

Now
that
she clearly saw.

“Tell them I'll give them what they want!” she yelled. “If I can get there quick enough.”

She headed toward the Gare du Nord in the tenth arrondissement. The midafternoon traffic wouldn't allow her to go much faster than thirty kilometers.

“How do they dare attack in daylight?” And then she realized mortals would not be able to see what she initially hadn't been able to see.

A clatter of wings slashed into the car as Vail dragged in a faery, or some gray creature that was the size of an infant and squealed like a rabbit. One of its wings cut Lyric's arm.

“What is it?” she frantically asked, keeping her focus on the road, and not hitting the biker up ahead.

“Fucking sprites. Who sent you? Zett?”

The squirming faery spit ichor at Vail. He managed to block the spittle with an arm, and whipped the faery out the window. “I hate sprites!”

“Did any of that get on you?”

“No.” He inspected his sleeve, which oozed with ichor. “Wait! Stop!”

Lyric pulled the car to an abrupt stop. Vail jumped out and ran toward a business building. What was the guy up to?

Then she noticed Rhys and Trystan Hawkes walking toward the building, as well. And with them, a woman with long dark hair.

“His mother?” Lyric got out and read the sign on the five-story steel building: Hawkes Associates.

 

T
RYSTAN SPUN AROUND
and at the sight of Vail took a defensive stance before Viviane. What was his mother
doing out in daylight? Could she withstand the sun if it slipped out from behind the clouds?

Rhys extended his hand to shake with Vail, but instead Vail shoved him at the shoulders. “Why didn't you tell him? He doesn't know I'm his son!”

Lyric touched Vail's shoulder, possibly to calm him, but he shrugged her off. Viviane peeked around her werewolf son's shoulder.

“You've seen him?” Rhys asked. “Where? Vail, I had no idea where he's been. I knew he was in the city, but—”

“He's been right under my nose, colluding with Charish Santiago all this time.”

“Are you serious?” Hawkes gave Lyric a scathing look, but dropped it quickly to focus on Vail. “If I had known…”

“If you had known you would have still kept this information from me. It was just a ruse, wasn't it? You get me to do your dirty work, and I get the shaft.” Vail rubbed his palms together furiously. “He didn't know me. And I look just like him!”

He turned, and Lyric stood waiting for him to step into her embrace. He was in no mood for a pity hug. He snarled at her and she stepped aside to allow him room to vent and pace.

“Is he talking about Constantine?” Trystan asked.

Rhys swung a warning look at Trystan, then turned to Vail, and said, “I have not seen my brother since the day we found Viviane wandering the streets, mad
and bloodthirsty, after over two hundred years of being buried alive.”

Vail tightened his jaw. He didn't want to hear this. Didn't need to hear Hawkes's lies!

“I would have told him, if I'd had opportunity, but I have had no desire to seek him out all these years. After what he did to me and Viviane, well, I wanted to start fresh, give your mother the best future I possibly could. You must believe me, Vaillant.”

“Constantine?” Viviane nudged aside Trystan and stepped up to grip her husband's arm. “Is that bastard still alive?”

“Yes,” Vail said.

The vampiress gaped. He bowed his head, feeling the despair at his mother's rejection curdle in his gut. He could not look at her now.

Why had he ever sought to know either of his parents? He should have been content with Cressida's twisted affection. At least with Cressida he knew where he stood: she hated him, and she admired him. No lies, no hiding or madness. Just bald truth.

Viviane railed. “No! He cannot be. You told me he was long dead. First this…this man who you claim is my son, and now…?”

The look Viviane gave Vail burned the remnants of his desperate heart to ash. He would never know her love. He was not worthy of it.

Vail said to Rhys, “Enough secrets. The Unseelie are after Lyric and me, but all I want to do is return to Constantine and rip out his heart.”

“Yes!” Viviane stepped up to Vail and pressed her
hands to his chest, sharp fingernails cutting through his shirt. Her wide eyes darted back and forth between his. “Rip it out and give it to me, will you?”

“I, uh…” Vail swallowed. He would rip out his own heart and give it to Viviane if he thought she could learn to love him. But he would not infect her further with Constantine's taint.

“Who is she?” Viviane did not look at Lyric, but he knew that's who she asked about.

“She is Lyric Santiago,” he said, clasping his mother's hands to keep her nails from doing him further damage. The contact shimmered boldly through his system. “I love her.”

A light brightened Viviane's mad eyes. “My dark prince is in love?” She tilted softer eyes upon Lyric.

Dark prince?
Vail mouthed to Rhys.

“It is what she called you after you were born,” Rhys confirmed. “And what she calls you when she dreams of you, which is often.”

Having such knowledge wrapped around him like a long-desired hug. It clasped about his shoulders, and Vail slapped his arms across his chest to hold on to the strange feeling. Fragments of his ashy heart coalesced and grew stronger, pulsing surely.

“Where is he?” Viviane pleaded him. “Tell me where he is!”

Rhys said, “No, Viviane,” while at the same time Vail said, “The Santiago estate.”

“We can find the bastard later,” Trystan said. “Ever since I was attacked, I've been able to see things I'd rather not see. Are those gray things faeries?”

Vail turned to spy the dark cloud of winged creatures swarming closer. “Sprites. They're nuisance sidhe, unless they're armed with elf shot, which they are. Take her inside and keep her protected.” He shoved Viviane toward Rhys.

Trystan pulled out a pistol from the back of his jeans and fired, dropping one sprite in a squealing splatter of ichor on the sidewalk.

“Nice,” Vail said to his brother.

“You know it, but we have mortal observers, and I've not enough bullets for them all. We need to stop this.”

“I can do that,” Lyric said, and she grabbed Vail's hand. “We have to get the gown.”

“Viviane!” Rhys, his cheek bleeding from scratch marks, pointed down the street. “She took off. When she's manic like this, she is very strong. I'm going after her. Tryst, help me.”

Firing five more shots, and taking down five more sprites, Trystan holstered the weapon under his arm and took off after Rhys. “They're all yours, brother!” he called back.

Vail shoved Lyric toward the car. “We can outrun them, but this time I drive. You're too light on the gas.”

She slid into the passenger side, brushing out the broken glass, but when she heard the squeal of oncoming sprites, she stopped and closed the door. “Head west to the train station!”

Vail shifted into Drive and sped down the busy street, swerving to pass another car. The Mercedes
kissed the back bumper of a delivery truck but didn't miss a beat.

They squealed onto a busy street and Lyric saw the cloud of sprites flicker away. “I can't see them. Are they gone?”

Vail scanned the rearview mirror. “For now. Where are we headed?”

“Just ahead. That big building at the end of the street.”

Shifting down and pulling the emergency brake, he spun the Mercedes into a parking space that gave but half a foot on bumper to bumper.

Lyric unclenched her grip on the door and opened it. “Come with me!”

“What the hell do you need in a train station?”

“Just follow me.”

The Gare du Nord, one of the largest train stations in Paris, was never empty, and right now it was rush hour. People leaving work crowded into the station where the imposing facade gleamed with rain.

Lyric rushed inside and took in the scene. Mortals wandered about, some listening to music, others rushing to catch a train. The air was cooler in here and she felt less safe surrounded by so many mortals. Vail clasped her hand. She wanted to hug him, to hold him and never let go. Because together they had flown to a place that existed only for them.

Now Lyric wasn't sure they'd ever go there again. Not unless she could make things right.

“I'm sorry. I wish I could do something to make
things right between you and Constantine,” she said. “I had asked Rhys.”

“You what?”

“When you fled after meeting your mother. I told him I'd give him the gown for information on Constantine.”

“He wouldn't do that. The bastard has been lying to me.”

“He said you needed to bring the gown to him yourself because it would give you answers. And he was speaking the truth about not knowing where his brother was.” He'd specifically said Vail had believed himself unwanted by all, and she knew that belief had changed. He'd learned a lot about himself in the past few days. “I trust him, Vail. I wish you would, too.”

He sighed and pulled her to him, hugging her against his chest, which pattered rapidly from his angry heartbeats. “Forgive me. But there's nothing you can do to make things right, because they're not meant to be right between me and Constantine.”

“Perhaps not. Just because he is your blood doesn't mean he deserves, or will ever earn, the title of father. But I have something that will make things better.” She slid her hand into his and led him toward the lockers. “At least, it may get those wicked sprites off our backs.”

 

V
AIL WAS IN NO MOOD
for anything other than doing damage to sprites right now, but he stalked after Lyric into the shadows between the aisles of lockers. She located a locker and punched in the digital security
code. From inside she pulled out a case perfectly fitted to the locker's dimensions.

It was so heavy she almost dropped it, but managed to heft it onto the wooden bench before the lockers.

“It's iron,” he noted.

“Leo had it fashioned specially for this purpose,” she said.

“Smart brother. No wonder the Seelie weren't aware it was missing, nor could the Unseelie track it. The iron acted as a shield of protection.”

“That's Leo.”

Looking around first to check for mortals, she didn't worry about the woman snoozing in the corner not ten feet away with a half cup of coffee near to tipping over onto her pants. Lyric pulled the digital combination lock around and punched in a few numbers, then slapped her palms on the face of the box and looked at her lover.

Vail remained stoic, arms crossed, legs straddling the bench. “Five seconds,” he offered. “What?”

“Remember you asked me for a five-second head start after I get the gown?”

“Oh.” But it didn't matter now that Charish was dead and that Vail knew where to find his father. Did it? “I don't want to run away from you, Vail. I meant it when I said I love you,” she told him, her clear blue eyes nailing him with a truth so deep it softened his raging heart. “Can this work?”

“Us? Yes,” he answered from his heart, steering
clear of reaction. “I love you, too, Lyric. We can work.”

He cupped her head and bent to kiss her, not realizing he'd needed this kiss until it happened. Here was home, at her lips. His fingers tangling in her soft hair. Their breaths coexisting. Their heartbeats synching. It was all home.

They'd taken blood from each other. They shared a piece of one another's soul. They were a part of the other now. And he did want it to work, to last, and to be real.