Redemption (The Penton Vampire Legacy) (11 page)

She stood, frowning down at him for a split second before walking to the door and shaking the knob angrily. She knew he’d locked it but she needed to do
something
.

She leaned against the door, pressing her cheek against the wood, its surface smooth and cool with a faint smell of varnish. “So how long is my
time here
supposed to last? Until Mark Calvert has recovered? I told you last night he doesn’t need full-time care.” She turned to look at him again, pressing her back against the door.

Aidan stood as well, and he stared down at his hands for a moment, flexing them, seeming to measure his words. In Krys’s experience, that meant he was deciding on what lie to tell. “We need a doctor here for a while, not just for Mark. Our people are under attack, and we need someone who knows how to treat them in case something else happens. It won’t be forever. And by
our
and
we
, I mean the people of Penton.”

“Attack?” Krys struggled to make sense of his words. “We’re in Alabama, not Afghanistan. What kind of attack?”

She began pacing and could feel him tracking her movement, like a big, patient cat watching a mouse run through a maze, knowing that all the exits led right back to him. “You’re
not telling me a big chunk of this, buddy. I saw the town hall meeting or whatever it is.” She gestured toward the TV.

His gaze flicked to the set for the first time and he froze. She’d turned off the sound, but the meeting footage continued to play. Krys didn’t know what was going through his head, but she’d swear that his eyes, already that unusual color of light blue, had grown icier. The TV had surprised him, and by the look on his face, Aidan Murphy did not like surprises.

“Why did you take me? Not just anyone, but
me
?” She didn’t have the physical strength to overpower him but there was nothing wrong with her brain. “You came looking for
me
for some reason. Why not some other gullible, idiotic doctor who was interested in rural medicine? There are lots of medical residents looking for jobs right now, especially for the salary you were dangling.”

Aidan walked to the nightstand, picked up the remote, and punched the off button. When he turned back to her, his voice was flat. “We looked for a doctor who’d never had the pandemic vaccine. We found you.”

Krys blinked, surprise deflating some of her anger. Her allergy to sorbitol had kept her from getting the shots to prevent a virus pandemic that had freaked everybody out and killed thousands. She’d lucked out. By the time the CDC released a sorbitol-free vaccine, she’d already had a mild case of the virus and managed to fight it off. She’d never taken the shots. But the virus had taken a heavy toll on the very young, the very old, and the very ill. The isolation wards, the protective suiting, the fear...it had been a horrible time.

She returned to sit at the far end of the sofa, anger giving way to grudging curiosity. “I don’t understand. Why did you
need a doctor who didn’t get vaccinated?” Wait. There was a bigger question. “How did you
know
I hadn’t been vaccinated?”

Aidan gave her an appraising look. He remained standing at the other end of the sofa, but Krys thought that if she reached for him, she could almost take hold of the coiled energy coming off him. He seemed used to giving orders and being in control, and her questions—and that video—made him uncomfortable. Too bad.

He sat heavily in the armchair and ran his hands through his hair. Her eyes followed the movement, and a memory of her own fingers twined through those soft waves flashed into her mind so strongly that she had to force her attention back on his words.

“Everyone who lives in Penton is so allergic to the vaccine that even a blood transfusion from a vaccinated person would be lethal,” he said. “Most of the property in this little ghost town was for sale, so I bought it all up. About a hundred of us moved here from Atlanta and began repopulating it. We only allow unvaccinated people to live here.”

Krys narrowed her eyes. How stupid did he think she was—to believe he managed to round up a hundred unvaccinated people with allergies and bought a town for them to live in? Seriously? Fine, she’d roll with it for now; see where he was going with this ludicrous story. If she kept him talking, maybe some kernel of truth would slip through the nonsense.

But that damned syringe. She leaned back, setting the throw pillow aside and shifting on the sofa to face him. “You took my blood and tested it last night when you...”
When you put your hands and your mouth all over me.
“When you knocked me out or hypnotized me or whatever, didn’t you?”

“I did—or, actually, Melissa did.” His face remained expressionless.

She stared at the coffee table. His story had enough holes in it to pass for Swiss cheese. “Why would it matter whether your doctor had the vaccine or not? And why keep me here by force?”

He gave her a rueful smile that dropped about ten years off his face and underscored what she’d thought before—he was under a lot of stress from whatever was really going on. “I was naïve. I hoped you’d want to stay once you got to know us, and since no one in Penton has had the vaccine, we want to keep it that way.”

Maybe she could bargain with him. “I watched that town meeting video, you know.” She made her tone conversational. “You said your doctor had been murdered. Not exactly a hunting accident, so you lied about that, too. And some guy named Owen is hurting people. And...stuff that didn’t make sense. I might consider staying long enough to take care of Mark if you’d tell me what’s really going on.”

Aidan glanced back at the TV, and Krys saw a hard pulse of anger cross his face again. “If you decide to stay here, I’ll explain,” he said softly. “Otherwise, it’s really none of your business.”

Of all the boneheaded, arrogant... “And how long do you intend to keep me here by force, helping you take care of things that are
none of my business
?”

He reached into his pocket, ignoring the question, and Krys instinctively curled into the corner of the sofa again, wrapping her arms around her knees. She expected a gun—maybe her gun—or a bottle of chloroform or another needle. Instead, he pulled out a length of black fabric and unrolled it to reveal her iPod and earbuds, which he tossed to her. He didn’t seem any
more anxious to get close to her than she to him, which made her strangely disappointed. Sneaky bastard. “What about my phone? My computer?”
My gun.

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

She looked at her watch. Six fifteen. “Why do you only want to talk at night? What do you have going on during the day—a war?”

“Something like that,” he said, standing. “Someone will bring your dinner soon. Leave any clothing you want washed by the door. First, though, I need you to go with me and check on Mark. He looks flushed.”

He was offering to have her laundry done? This just kept getting weirder. Still, if he took her to the clinic, she might find a chance to run. She followed him to the door. “Of course. Infection is his biggest risk.”

“Turn around.” He held out the strip of black cloth. “I’m sorry, but I need to cover your eyes. It’s for your safety as well as ours.”

Krys backed away from him, anger and panic stealing her breath. “No. Damn. Way. You will not lead me around blindfolded.” She’d stay in this room and let Mark rot with infection first.

Aidan looked annoyed. What a pity. “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Guess what? Your credibility isn’t worth much. I will not be blindfolded unless you hold me down and force me. Give Mark an antibiotic—you can do that as well as I.”

Aidan paused for a moment, then folded the cloth and returned it to his pocket. “Fair enough.” He stepped closer, putting his hands on her upper arms to keep her from backing away. “No blindfold.”

Krys struggled against him as he held her arm firmly with his left hand and cradled her face with his right. This is what he’d done last night. She remembered that now. If he thought he could really hypnotize her...

She found herself studying his strong cheekbones and the dark hair falling around his face. His presence enveloped her, and she raised her mouth as he brushed his lips against hers. “
Ní bheidh mé tú a ghortú
,” he whispered.

The strangeness of the words jolted her out of the trance and she jerked away from him—or tried.

“Look at me, Krys.” His voice was soft, and she met his eyes. A wave of warm energy rolled over her like a blast from opening an oven door, and she fought it for as long as she could before finally crumbling beneath the weight of it.

S
o damned hungry
. Owen eyed the young woman crouched in the kitchen corner of the old mill village house. Thin and dark-haired, wearing jeans a size too large and a sweater a size too small, she knelt in shadows. They didn’t dare light more than a couple of candles lest Aidan or his people come to investigate.

Still, he could see the fine pulse in her neck, the subtle rush of blood as her heart pumped it through her body. Her scent fueled the hunger churning through him, enough to make him tremble. The few homeless humans they’d enthralled and abducted in Atlanta barely fed his scathe of eight. He hadn’t been able to round up any more vampires on short notice—only these desperate few who hoped to feed on some of Aidan’s humans once they managed to kill him. And if things got too hard, they’d scatter. Under other circumstances, Owen might have admired his little brother’s ability to keep so many vampires and humans loyal to him.

“What’s the plan?” Anders sat against the wall opposite the girl, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the linoleum.

Owen closed his eyes briefly, swallowing the hunger. Even though he’d turned Anders a century ago, he hadn’t been able to break the guy of his human fidgeting. He was the only one of the scathe who’d come with him from Ireland, except for Sherry. Anders had turned that useless teenage girl six months ago and dragged her everywhere. “We take Aidan out tonight. That’s the plan.”

Anders increased his finger tapping. “He’ll bring backup, you think?”

Owen glared at him. “If you don’t stop that infernal drumming, I’ll bloody well butcher you before I kill Aidan.”

Anders giggled and quit tapping on the floor. In a few seconds, he began cracking his knuckles.

“Eejit.”
Owen closed his eyes and leaned against the kitchen counter. He considered getting the chair out of the front room, decided it wasn’t worth the trouble, and slid heavily to the floor. Soon enough, they wouldn’t have to live like paupers. Matthias Ludlam would see to that. He’d already sent a human courier with a small package containing his mysterious “secret weapon.” Once he’d seen it, Owen had had to admit it was pure genius. There wasn’t much, so he’d have to use it sparingly. Maybe he’d luck out and tag Aidan on the first try.

Pity, that. Truth was, he’d have been happy to stay in Dublin forever and let Aidan live in peace if Matthias and his cronies on the Tribunal’s Justice Council hadn’t decided to make an example of him. A death sentence just for draining a few hookers was bollocks. If Matthias hadn’t wanted to break up Aidan’s power base, Owen would already be dead. If the only way he could go free was to off Aidan, so be it.

“Here’s how it goes down,” he told Anders. “We use Aidan’s self-righteousness against him and issue a formal challenge, which he’ll be honor-bound to accept.”

Anders rubbed a hand across his shaved head. “You sure he’ll go for it?”

“Oh, yeah. He’ll be jacked by the idea of using the old vampire battle accords. I’ll insist on proxies, and then you’ll come out.” Aidan was a better fighter, but Anders wouldn’t let a little thing like fair play bother him. “He’s wicked strong, but he doesn’t use his left hand as well as his right. Force him to his weak side.”

Owen thought a moment, envisioning how he wanted the scene to unfold. “We’ll need another proxy, too. Someone Aidan would never pick. A woman or a kid.”

Another annoying giggle. “How about Sherry?”

Anders had a taste for the young ones, and that girl had been nothing but useless baggage and another pair of fangs to feed. Not to mention that it had been illegal to turn new vampires since the pandemic. Something else the Tribunal would hang on him if they found out. Still, she was only thirteen. Aidan would never fight anyone that young, so she could finally make herself useful.

“Yeah, have Sherry here by two thirty.”

Anders bobbed his head to some personal rhythm and began drumming his fingers again.

“Get out of here and find her—both of you need to feed. I’ll take this girl.” Owen got to his feet and snuffed one of the candles.

Anders paused on the back stoop. “We really going to follow the accords?”

Owen grinned. “Of course not.” If Aidan came alone, he’d use the Tribunal’s weapon on him. If he brought the Slayer,
well, good-bye Slayer. He’d kill the big guy and take Aidan out another night. Matthias might want to reel Mirren Kincaid back to the Tribunal but if Owen had a chance to take him out, he would.

“What if Aidan wants to do mental battle?” Anders asked, the unaccustomed exercise of thought wrinkling his brow. “I ain’t done that in donkey’s years.”