Holiday with a Vampire 4 (3 page)

Kane straightened, rocking back onto his knees. “She’ll sleep now,” he said.

Alfie ran his hand over his face. “What’re we gonna do about
us?
” he asked.

The hunger, he meant. The hunger that the sight and smell of blood made a thousand times worse.

“You’re usually the one who sees the best side in any situation,” Kane said wryly. “Any suggestions?”

Alfie gave a gusty sigh and shook his head. “You want me ta go look fer a deer or somethin’?”

“No,” Kane said. “We should both stay here to keep watch.”

“Then it’s best we take our rest. We got nothin’ better ta do.”

Ravenous, wet and cold, as they had been so many times in the trenches, Kane and Alfie huddled back to back next to the woman, shielding her from the worst of the icy rain, and waited out the rest of the night. At dawn they moved into the denser cover of a nearby thicket and watched Fiona wake with the feeble sun.

* * *

Fiona opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was the watery sunlight filtering through the waxy leaves of the live oak above her. The first thing she remembered was the bloodsuckers roaring and staggering around, drunk on her blood.

And then the sounds of violence, followed by quiet and the murmuring of voices. A strong but gentle touch. Faces...

Nightsiders.

She tried to sit up, but a heavy, invisible hand shoved her back down again. Daylight had hardly affected the temperature, and the sky was still a dead, featureless gray save for the one place where the sun valiantly struggled to burn its way through the clouds.

A black fatigue jacket lay over her chest and shoulders, and a roll of sturdy fabric supported her neck. Her feet were encased in hugely oversize boots, and she dimly remembered the owners of the voices putting them there. Somehow they’d saved her from the rogues, and she didn’t know why.

No more than a few feet away, the intertwined branches of a small thicket rustled with something other than the wind. Two men huddled under it, curled in on themselves with heads and hands tucked against their chests.

Vassals. That was what they had called themselves. But they were still Nightsiders. They wouldn’t try to move until sunset. She could escape. All she had to do was find enough strength to get up.

She tried. The jacket fell onto the dirt behind her. Her muscles strained, and repeated waves of dizziness made her stomach heave. Even so, she pushed herself up onto her elbows and made it to her knees before the invisible hand reached out to smash her down again.

“Fiona.”

The voice. The calm baritone that had urged her to be still, to let him...

Her hand flew to her neck. It was tender, but she could feel nothing but a slight scar where the ugly wounds had been.

“Fiona,” the voice said again. Firm but easy, like that of a man used to command and too certain of his own masculinity to fear showing compassion. She stared into the thicket. The man emerged halfway, his face barely in the shadows.

He was unquestionably handsome, though there were deep shadows under his eyes and cheekbones—gray eyes, she saw, beneath an unruly shock of dark hair. He was barefoot, and wore only uniform pants and a shirt against the cold, a shirt that had obviously seen better days but revealed the breadth of his shoulders and the fitness of his body. A soldier’s body.

“It’s all right,” he said, raising his hand. The sunlight touched his fingers, and he snatched his hand back into the thicket. “The ones who attacked you are dead, but you shouldn’t move yet. Your body needs more time.”

“Kane,” she said. “Your name is Kane.”

He nodded. “How much do you remember?”

Too much, now that she was fully conscious. Pain, humiliation, growing weakness as the Opiri drained the blood from her veins.

“Why did you save me?” she asked.

Kane shrugged, but the big man behind him shifted so that his broad face showed over Kane’s shoulder.

“’E’s a ’ero,” the man—Alfie, she remembered—said with a good-humored grin and a thick Cockney accent. “’Eroes can’t ’elp ’emselves. They sees a lady in distress, they’ve got ta save her.”

Kane cleared his throat. “Not all of us are like
them,
” he said.

With an effort, she rolled onto her side. “You said you were deserters,” she said.

“We want freedom,” Kane said, his face hardening. “Just as you do.”

Freedom from the Bloodlord or Bloodmaster who essentially owned them. When Fiona had first been told about the vassals, men and women who had been converted in the century before the Awakening and through the years that followed, she had felt only pity and anger, as she did for the serfs who provided Nightsiders with blood. It had taken only a year in the field to rid herself of such illusions. No vassal could escape what he had become, and Kane’s kind, along with Freebloods, formed the majority of the troops who fought for the Bloodlords and Bloodmasters.

No matter what these men had done for her, they were still her enemies.

She braced her hand on the trunk of the tree and tried to stand once more, swaying as she pushed herself to her feet. The world spun. Arms caught her again, arms hard with muscle and stronger than any human’s.

Kane’s face was half in sun, half in shadow, and even as she watched the part exposed to the sun began to redden. He showed no sign of pain, but she knew his skin was burning. His hands were growing hot against her skin, almost scalding her.

She pushed him away. “Get back in the shade,” she ordered. “I won’t be responsible for your death.”

But he didn’t let her go. His face had begun to blister as he snatched up the fallen jacket, grabbed her wrist and dragged her with him, supporting her when she almost tripped in her oversize boots. Once he was in the shelter of the thicket, he pulled her down again, keeping his hand locked around her wrist.

“You’re staying here until nightfall,” he said. “Then we’ll lead you back to your people.”

“You’ve seen them?” she asked. “Where are they?”

“We found the bodies,” he said. “We tracked you and the rogues to where they tied you up. The others from your unit went on ahead.” He searched her face. “You’re their leader, aren’t you?”

“I’m a soldier,” she said brusquely.

“I’ve commanded men to the brink of death and over it,” he said. “I know when I meet someone who’s done the same.”

She tried to yank free of his hold. “I don’t want your help, ‘hero’ or not.”

Her biting words seemed to have no effect. Kane looked into her eyes, and she could see the red reflection shining behind the gray, framed by the ugly blisters on his face, which were just beginning to heal.

Why did those gray eyes have such a powerful effect on her? It was as if she had known him all her life.

She dropped her gaze. “You shouldn’t have come out,” she said.

“I’ll survive,” he said. “But
you
won’t if more rogues show up.”

“Kane ’ealed you,” Alfie said, his voice serious. “’E gave ya what ya needed ta make the bleedin’ stop.”

Fiona remembered the touch of lips on her neck—not biting or rending, but gentle. The pain was gone.

She met Kane’s eyes again. “I’m grateful,” she said, “but I have a duty to my own people.”

He tightened his grip on her wrist. “I assume you’re Special Forces?” He went on when she didn’t answer. “I don’t know what your mission is, but you haven’t got a chance if your team keep going in the same direction they’re heading. If you make it past the bands of rogue Freebloods, you’ll be facing seasoned troops under the direct command of Bloodlords. And if they don’t kill you, they won’t bother to hold you hostage. They’ll make serfs of you.”

“We’ll get past them,” Fiona said. “Just as you did.”

“It weren’t easy,” Alfie said. “We got away ’cause we was scouts, and we could move beyond the lines.”

“You said the farther you go from the Bloodmaster, the less he can control you,” Fiona said. “I’ve never heard that before.”

“I believe it takes prolonged separation,” Kane said. “If we’re caught, we die. But death is better than slavery.”

She knew he meant it. He would sooner stand in the sun and be consumed than be taken. She respected him for that far more than she would have thought possible.

But she saw something else in his face, and Alfie’s. Hunger. Starvation, more likely. A slower death than any they would get from their master.

And still they hadn’t touched her.

“Let me go,” she said. “I can take care of myself if you point me in the right direction.”

Kane released her. “If you’re afraid,” he said coldly, “if you won’t accept my word, then go.”

Abruptly he retreated deeper into the shade, only his eyes visible. Fiona contracted her muscles and tried to stand. She could just make it, but only if she stayed completely still.

Afraid,
he’d said. But she wasn’t. For reasons incomprehensible to her, these two men had saved her life and demanded nothing in return. They were enemies, but they deserved better than she’d given them.

She knelt, grateful to take the weight off her rubbery legs. “Where will you find blood?” she asked. “Will you attack the next human you meet?”

Once again his eyes met hers. Eyes that had seen years far beyond her mere twenty-eight, and suffering she could hardly imagine.

“We will not kill,” he said. “We’ve been living on the blood of animals, but that won’t sustain us much longer. We’ll take only the blood we need, no more.”

She lifted her chin. “Then I’ll stay. And when I’m recovered enough, you can have mine.”

Chapter 3

“N
o,” Kane said.

Fiona’s green eyes sparkled—not like sunlight on the green leaves of summer, but with an emerald fire of defiance.

“Why not?” she said. “I offer it freely. If I can save some other human from becoming your prey, I’ll consider it no more than my duty.”

“Duty above returning to your own people?”

“They can do without me a little while longer.”

Kane knew she was bluffing. It wasn’t that she was afraid...not in the way most humans would be. But after what had happened with the rogues, he couldn’t blame her for hating the idea of any vampire feeding on her, even if she donated her blood willingly.

That was why he admired her. They’d met under the worst of circumstances, as natural enemies, but she was prepared to pay the debt she thought she owed them, even though she would find the method repulsive.

He studied her more carefully: the spatter of freckles across her nose; the lightly tanned skin, not yet aged by constant exposure to the elements; the delicate lines of her face that belied her courage and determination; the long curve of her neck; the full lips that could set so stubbornly when she was intent on holding her ground.

Hunger rose in him again—hunger for Fiona’s body, as ferocious as the hunger in his belly and his veins.

Maybe it would be beyond his power to control himself. Maybe he would be no better than the rogues.

“No,” he repeated. “If you lose any more blood, you’ll be dead in an hour.”

“We’ll make do,” Alfie said. “We been through a lot worse than this, eh, Lieutenant?”

“Lieutenant?” Fiona asked, her brows lifting.

“A long time ago,” Kane said. “Long before you were born. Before your parents were born.”

“Converted together, we was,” Alfie said. “I protect ’im, see. ’E gets ’imself into trouble, ’e does, stickin’ ’is nose in other people’s business.”

Kane bowed his head. He didn’t deserve Alfie’s dogged devotion. He’d put the man in danger more times than he could count.

From the time he and Alfie had been chosen to act as advance scouts for the Opiri, they had begun to work against the interests of their masters. They had helped dozens of human prisoners—soldiers and civilians—escape their Opiri captors, and all the while Alfie had stood by Kane’s side and risked his own life for people who hated what he and Kane had become. Each and every time the Englishman had told Kane he was crazy, then cheerfully thrown himself into the fray.

“’At’s what ’eroes do,” he’d told Fiona. But in his own mind, Kane was no hero. He just didn’t know any other way than to protect people who didn’t have the strength to fight from those who wanted to destroy them.

Once the enemy had been the Germans. Now it was his own kind.

He pushed the memories back into the shadows deep in his mind and shook his canteen. Just enough left for Fiona.

She had fallen into a sudden deep sleep, her chin on her knees, her tangled hair veiling her face from his gaze.

“Miss Donnelly,” he said.

She jerked awake, instinctively scrambling away from him and reaching for a sidearm that wasn’t there. Kane extended the canteen toward her.

She shook her head. “I don’t need it,” she said. “You’re the one who was burned.”

“And you lost so much blood that every drop of this will help you,” he said. “Take it.”

She hesitated, then reached for the canteen. Their fingers brushed in passing, and she jerked her hand back, sloshing the water inside the metal container. After a long moment spent studying Kane through narrowed eyes, she drank.

“Thank you,” she said, careful not to touch his fingers as she passed the empty canteen back to him. She looked up at the sky, where the faint glow of the sun was sinking toward the west. “It’ll be night soon. Have you changed your mind?”

The blood, she meant. “No,” he said. “But we will see you to your people before we go.”

She scraped her hair behind her head, tore a strip of fabric from the hem of her shirt and tied it back. “They won’t be anywhere near here by now,” she said.

“Perhaps,” Kane said. “But we may catch up to them during the night.”

“For your sake,” she said, “I hope we don’t. I may not be able to stop them from trying to kill you.”

“They won’t even see us, if all goes well,” Kane said.

“You’d better not let them. Unless you strip naked, they’ll recognize your fatigues.” She looked down at her feet. “If you hadn’t given me your boots and jacket, I’d be practically naked myself,” she said with unexpected humor.

The image her words put in Kane’s mind didn’t help his concentration. “Where are your boots?” he asked.

“The rogues threw them somewhere out in the bush, along with my helmet and jacket. I think they took my weapons.”

“Do you want to go back for them?”

“It’s not important. They can be replaced.”

Kane nodded and watched the sun descend until only a glow of fading light limned the hill. He signaled to Alfie. They emerged from the thicket, leaving their field packs next to their temporary shelter, and moved to either side of Fiona to help her up.

She flinched when they touched her, holding herself stiffly upright. Kane was just as stiff, though in a way Miss Donnelly would not appreciate. Touching her like this was painful in every respect, and there was no easing either source of discomfort.

He and Alfie led her toward the house where the human troops had bivouacked, keeping alert for any sound or movement. They had reached the last hill above the shallow valley, where the trees were thickest, when Kane heard the footsteps. The approaching soldiers were nearly as quiet as Opiri, but no human could quite match the silence of a vampire who chose not to be heard.

Kane unslung his rifle. Alfie followed suit.

“Your men?” Kane asked Fiona in an undertone.

Fiona glanced at him, frowning, and then noticed the movement among the trees. “They must be,” she said. “Put those guns down. Stay still. If they see you, don’t try to fight.”

Suddenly the soldiers emerged from the deeper shadows under the trees—two men dressed in the same camouflage fatigues Fiona wore and in not much better condition, though they still had their helmets. Two other humans moved up behind Fiona, Kane and Alfie, encircling them.

“Captain,” said one of the soldiers facing them. “We thought you were—”

“Why did you stop, Goodman?” Fiona demanded, stepping in front of Kane and Alfie. “I ordered you to keep moving.”

“I judged it best to let the injured rest. Who are these men?”

“Friends,” Kane said, keeping his voice calm and low.

“Look at their uniforms,” said the female soldier behind Kane. “They’re bloodsuckers.” Kane felt the muzzle of a gun punch into his back.

“Captain Donnelly,” Goodman said, “are you hurt?”

“Put your weapons down,” Fiona said. “Commander, these men saved my life.”

“Men?”
Goodman said. He removed his helmet, revealing a stern face and contemptuous brown eyes. “They’re rogues, like the others.”

“They’re vassals,” Fiona said. “They’re heading south to get away from their Bloodmaster.”

Goodman raised his rifle.

“Commander Goodman,” Fiona said. “I gave an order.”

The man—Fiona’s second-in-command, judging by his rank—lowered his gun. The others followed suit.

“You want them taken alive?” Goodman asked.

“I want them free to leave,” Fiona said. She swayed a little, but her firm expression and steady voice never wavered. “They insisted on helping me get here, but they have to keep moving if they want to stay free.”

Goodman’s expression remained tight, revealing what he thought of her explanation. “Captain,” he said, “if these bloodsuckers have deserted, they may be able to provide us with vital information. We can’t just let them go.”

“I won’t break my word,” she said. “You four go back to camp. I’ll catch up.”

“You’re hardly able to stand,” Goodman said.

As if to prove his assessment correct, Fiona began to fall. Kane moved to catch her, but Goodman swung his rifle out of the way and got to her first. The other three soldiers closed in with weapons at the ready.

“If you make one more move,” Goodman said, “we’ll kill you.”

“You won’t succeed,” Kane said, though he couldn’t forget the state of the Freebloods’ bodies when he and Alfie had found them after the rogues’ attack on the humans.

“They...
can
kill you,” Fiona whispered, trying to pull free of Goodman’s hold. “We have a...new weapon. It’s—”

Goodman covered her mouth with his hand, and she struggled furiously. Kane lunged at the commander. The woman to his left shot him in the shoulder and the knee. His leg crumpled as Alfie dived for the woman and snatched the rifle out of her hands.

The man who had come from behind Kane shifted and pressed the muzzle of his rifle into Kane’s forehead hard enough to leave a mark.

“A bullet to the brain
will
kill you,” Goodman said, his hand slipping from Fiona’s mouth. “Down.”

“No, Joel!” Fiona cried. “You have to...” She slumped, silenced by her own exhaustion.

Alfie glanced at Kane, threw down the rifle and dropped to his knees. Kane stared at Goodman and raised his hands. The man with the rifle stepped back, and the woman retrieved her weapon. Goodman nodded to her and the remaining male soldier.

“Get Captain Donnelly back to camp and bring the shackles,” he said. He passed Fiona to the male soldier and kicked Kane in his wounded leg. “The captain said you didn’t hurt her,” he said, “but she’s obviously lost a lot of blood. You could have forced her to lie.”

Kane laughed, hissing at the pain. “Vassals don’t control minds, Commander. Your intelligence is faulty.”

“Maybe you’ll help bring us up to date.”

Kane watched the two soldiers carefully lift Fiona between them and carry her down the hill. Alfie growled. Goodman slammed his weapon into Alfie’s chest, knocking him back. Kane struggled to get up and collapsed onto his injured knee.

“Now, that ain’t nice,” Alfie chided, rolling onto his side. “Not nice at all. By my reckonin’, it’s comin’ on Christmas Eve. Maybe a bit o’ charity is in order.”

“Opiri don’t celebrate our holidays,” Goodman said, his lip curled in scorn.

“We did once,” Alfie said. “Remember, Kane? The winter o’ ’14 it was, when all o’ us—”

“Quiet,” Goodman said. “No more talking.”

Kane gave Alfie a pointed glance, and they held their peace. He didn’t trust the man who had silenced Fiona when she’d been warning him about a new weapon. What if Goodman thought Fiona was a traitor for letting Opiri come so close to the human camp and for nearly telling their enemies about something the humans obviously wanted to keep hidden?

Maybe it was his imagination, nothing more. But if Fiona needed him to stay alive, he planned to stay that way. And if she was in any kind of danger, he planned to save her again. Even if he had to pretend he and Alfie were defeated.

A very unpleasant hour later, as Kane’s injuries began to close and his flesh knitted itself back together—far more slowly than it would have if he hadn’t been
starving—the soldiers Goodman had sent back to camp returned with two sets of heavy shackles. While they kept their weapons trained on their prisoners, Goodman pulled him up by the back of his shirt, jerked his arms behind him and shackled his wrists together.

Kane worked his hands. The shackles were clearly designed to hold Opiri. He could get out of them eventually, if only by deliberately breaking every bone in his hands, but Alfie’s hands were so big that he couldn’t get free even by such drastic and agonizing means. Kane knew that once he was free he could find a way to release the big Brit as well, but first he had to make certain that Fiona was safe. And would stay that way.

Alfie gave him a lopsided grin as Goodman bound his wrists and dragged him to his feet. Then the commander and his subordinate pushed the two of them down the hill, tensely alert for resistance that didn’t come.

The house huddled in on itself like a rabbit surrounded by a pack of wolves, collapsing walls dull white like fungus in deep shadow. Once they reached the floor of the valley and entered the house, Kane and Alfie were herded along a hallway off the central area where the remainder of the human troops had gathered in conference. Fiona was not among them. A man with very dark eyes and black hair, his arm in a sling, glanced up, his gaze meeting Kane’s for the briefest instant.

The soldiers shoved Kane and Alfie into a room and closed the door. The walls here were stronger, nearly intact, but even so, it would take little effort for him to knock them down.

“Well?” Alfie said. “This is a bit of a fix, innit?”

“A temporary one,” Kane said. “Did you see Captain Donnelly?”

Alfie shook his head. “Ya still worried ’bout the lass, guv?”

“I don’t like the way they silenced her. And I don’t trust Goodman.”

“Yer instincts was always good,” Alfie said. He looked sideways at Kane. “You likes ’er, don’t ya?”

“She’s got a great deal of courage,” Kane said, looking away.

“And she’s more ’n just pretty,” Alfie said, trying to ease his shoulders. “’Aven’t seen ya look at a woman that way since
’e
brought us ta America.”

Kane leaned against the wall, trying to ignore the pain in his wrists and his ravening hunger. The smell of the humans, of their blood, was more torment than any wound.

“My feelings are irrelevant,” he said. “Once I’m sure she’s safe, we’ll get out of here.”

“Not without somethin’ ta keep us alive,” Alfie said. “We can’t go on like this. It’s not like we’d really ’urt anyone.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Kane knew they didn’t have any more choice in the matter. They would have to take human blood within the next few hours...or die.

He tested the shackles again. “We’ll get out of the house while it’s still dark,” he said. “They’ll either send men to hunt for us or keep a scout on watch in case we return. Either way, we’ll get what we need.”

“Good a plan as any,” Alfie said. “Too bad we can’t—”

He broke off as three soldiers opened the door and walked into the room. One was Goodman, another a tall, dark-skinned man with a rifle, and the third bald and heavily muscled. The tall man closed and locked the door behind them.