The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - Daniel: Book: 3 (2 page)

Cristophe simply flicked his hand as if swatting away a fly.

"You are like an old nagging wife, Samuel. My sons use
protection. They are not fools. Neither do they take food from a human source.
They use Constantine's products." Now his dark eyes narrowed and he tilted
his head. "You watch over your sons and your business, pirate, and I will
watch over mine."

Samuel didn’t move a muscle. He might have been made of
stone. Tall and long and lean, his eyes were the eyes of a being who had seen
too much and done too much. His sons showed no signs of wanting to settle down
and create their own families either.

"We can but guide them and do our best," he said.
And left unsaid the broken-hearted part where he wished his wife was alive to
see how well their sons had grown.

Duncan didn’t want to think of his own wife, Sorcha.

His heart clenched with an ache that only grew each day.

God, how he missed her.

They’d been apart for too long and since she didn't live in
this world (a long story) it would only... complicate... things to bring her
into this debacle.

He took a deep breath, forced himself to focus on the issues
of the here and now.

Don’t look back. Look forward. Those were the words he lived
by.

"It's the Order who are influencing the young and
weak-minded across eastern Europe." He turned to Cristophe. "I see
you burned two of their churches outside Rome."

Cristophe's fangs flashed white in the moonlight. "
Si
.
Vassili and Voltaire did not heed my warning. We sent their priests unto The
Fade."

Duncan wasn't sure it was a wise idea to mess with the Order
at the moment. The priests of the old religion had become powerful. Always sly
bastards at the best of times, they appeared over-confident these days. And he
wondered what it meant. More importantly, he wondered who in the vampyre hierarchy
had aligned themselves to their cause? It had been one hundred and seventy
years since the last religious purge. Perhaps they were long overdue another?

Samuel, he realized belatedly, was watching him like a hawk.
"I won't repeat my disquiet about Charlotte's magical abilities, Duncan.
However, neither do I want to see the girl, nor the child she carries, harmed.
You will need to keep a careful watch over her. The Order want her in Dyunik
Monastery to test her abilities and ensure her magic is safe. I'm assuming she
is under guard?"

Unable to contain his shock at the inquisitive nature of the
question, Duncan blinked.

Now this was a surprise. Samuel Hindmarch, a vampyre whose
loathing of magic was well documented, worrying about a white witch? Were pigs
flying in the sky this evening?

"Everyone," his blue eyes went glacial as he
emphasized the point, "in my clan and my family have taken all necessary
precautions to ensure the safety of my daughter-in-law and my future
grandchild. And just let me say this, anyone even thinking of attempting a
snatch and grab will find themselves at war with
me
."

"
And
with the Pattullo vampyres and our Centuri,"
added Cristophe in a low growl that was a clear warning.

Samuel's brows rose. "Should an incident come to pass, you
can, of course, depend on my assistance, too."

There was an undercurrent to the statement, something that
tickled the back of Duncan's throat, something that made his smooth brow
crease.

"Your
assistance
, Samuel, has never been in
question," he said, wondering just what the hell was going on because he'd
never once doubted his friend's support. The fact he'd felt the need to state
it meant now he
did
doubt it. Their troika had been forged in blood and
death, a brotherhood which had held strong, invincible, for over two hundred
years. Was the strength of Gillespie, Pattullo and Hindmarch weakening?
Recently Samuel had become even more solitary in his habits, leaving much of
the cloak and dagger work that was so much a part of the Hindmarch trademark to
his sons. Unless he was attending their regular meetings in New York, these
days he rarely left his castle high on a rocky cliff on the coast of Cornwall
in England. Something was going on with his friend. Duncan just wasn't sure
what. Perhaps the time had come for him to pay a visit to Cornwall, for some
much needed one on one time with his friend? After all there were times when
even vampyres needed to talk.

Other business and legal matters were discussed before he
said farewell to Samuel who was returning to England and Cristophe to Italy. Heart
heavy with what the future might hold, he watched them leave.

As Duncan sank again into the wide leather chair on the
balcony, he gazed up into the night sky and the hairs on his arms, his neck,
rose.

He heaved a weary sigh of deep annoyance.

"Show yourself, witch."

As if he was a welcomed guest the vampyre witch Ezekiel
moved into his line of vision, strolled across the sandstone floor to peer over
the edge of the balcony. Dressed in warrior leathers the color of the deepest
claret, the witch turned to look him dead in the eye. And he looked fucking
amazing. All lean hard muscle with the face of a dark angel.

Power.

Duncan felt it shimmer over his skin in the darkness and
knew what it meant.

"Your magic is making my teeth ache," he growled.

Ezekiel took a short step back.

"The hemorrhagic Marburg epidemic in Rwanda is
contained for now, but it was a near thing. If we thought the Ebola-flu
outbreak is bad, it would be nothing compared to this virus," Ezekiel said
in a deep voice that rumbled in his vast chest. "I’ve received word of an
outbreak of a virulent strain of flu in the Tà Shãn province of China. The
centre for disease control suspect a bird/swine-flu hybrid. Blood samples have
already been sent to laboratories in Switzerland, France, United Kingdom and
the United States. The Chinese have moved quickly to contain the outbreak. A
town has been placed under quarantine."

Three different contagions erupting across the world at the
same time?

What were the odds?

Duncan’s heart fell.

"And so it begins."

The witch lifted dark, dark eyes to the night sky.

"It began long ago."

True.

But Duncan wanted to know what
‘it’
was?

More to the point who or what were behind
'it'
and
why?

Silence.

"You are healed?" Duncan’s query was not a
particularly friendly one. He didn’t want to appear ungrateful. After all the witch
had almost died saving Duncan’s son, James, but the unspoken words,
‘And
when can you leave?’
hung in the air.

The response to the question was a single nod, as if being
gutted like a fish had been nothing more than a scratch. Ezekiel drew his slick
ponytail of oiled hair the color of the night sky through his fingers and
draped it down the front of a wide shoulder.

"Our enemies know too much. They are specifically
targeting Gillespie vampyres and their mates when the women are newborn vampyre
and therefore vulnerable. One, or both of your troika, is a liar and a
spy," he said now, referring to Samuel and Cristophe. His voice was a low
rumbling growl in the night.

Duncan knew it and it filled him with a sense of hopelessness
that one or both of his closest friends was a betrayer but he’d be damned if
he’d show it to this abomination.

"So you say."

The witch took a deep inhale of breath through flared
nostrils.

Those piercing eyes, black as night, met his.

"I do say. And I say look at the Italian first."

Duncan didn't agree.

"Cristophe is even more furious with Eleanor than we
are..."

"Cristophe is a consummate liar and an accomplished
actor. Skills he honed during the time of the Borgias. When his blade is slid
into a back, the person will never see its approach."

True.

"If we break trust in the bad times that are coming,
then our enemy has won," Duncan stated with a conviction he believed in
every cell of his body.

"If you trust either of them then you are a fool.
Marcus did an electronic security sweep of the boardroom and found four
state-of-the-art bugs and two links into the private optical system. He is
trying to trace the supplier. But since this is the area of his expertize I'd
put my money on Samuel's team. Your CCTV cameras all across the company have
also been compromised. Someone has been watching the coming and goings and
listening to your plans. All security arrangements for Charlotte, the child she
carries, are compromised."

Remembering Samuel's supposed concern for Charlotte and her
child, had his friend been trying to send him a friendly warning?

Ezekiel continued, "What you need is to find out why.
The
why
is something that happened in the past. And since you are the
only one who is as old as they are, it is up to you to discover why one or both
would not only betray their kind but the world they live in. You know and I
know that the only being who has the power to open portals to leak dark magic
into our reality is The Maker himself. I would think Cristophe must be in the
frame, too, since it is his daughter who has aligned herself with the
creature."

With the anger of betrayal burning deep in his belly, Duncan
stood and moved next to the witch. Trying to ignore the electrical charged
waves of magical power that was coming off his unwelcome guest, he turned to
stare down into the street below and watch his closest friends drive away in
their chauffeur driven limousines.

"I’ve nae idea where to start," he admitted, heartsick.

Ezekiel turned to pin him with hard, intense eyes.

"Start with the one with nothing left to lose."

It was good advice and Duncan mulled it
over as he entered his private domain.

He strolled through a grand sitting room filled with his
most treasured possessions, into his bedroom and opened heavy double doors made
of smooth oak into a vast dressing area.

He closed the doors behind him, turned the key in the lock.

What he was about to do, should they ever discover his
secret, would bring him instant destruction by the vampyre council who would
cast him unto The Fade. Removing his suit jacket, his tie, he opened the top two
buttons of his crisp white shirt, removed silver cufflinks from the cuffs and turned
up the sleeves to the elbow. Then he toed off his shoes, his socks and moved to
the back of the space to stand in front of a full-size mirror. Reaching out, he
pressed part of the wooden frame. There was a soft click and the mirror slid
silently to the left, leaving what appeared to be another looking glass
beneath. The palm of his hand touched the now shimmering glass and he spoke a
single word.

"Sorcha."

Between one heartbeat and the next a great lioness appeared,
thick fur the color of virgin snow, her eyes the most beautiful dark violet.
Those eyes blinked once, twice, as they stared into his. The big cat sat,
waiting, its head tilted to the side as if listening. Duncan knew better. He
knew the cat, his wife's
familiar
, was speaking to Sorcha. He'd no more
thought of her than she appeared. And just like that, his heart stopped before
beating again too fast. How had he managed to wait nearly two hundred long
years to see her?

How?

Of course, in Sorcha's world the passing of time didn't move
the same as it did on earth. In her world fifteen earth years passed in one
year. So two hundred years in his time, but over thirteen in hers. The laws of
physics seemed to allow for time to move faster or slower in some realities.

"Vampyre," she whispered. The sound of her voice,
heard after so long, was a sensual stroke of fingertips over his skin.
"Are you ready to get down on your knees before me?"

His groin went too hard too fast.

He remembered the promise he'd made to her.

That when he finally entered the world she ruled, he would
drop to his knees before her.

"Witch," he whispered back. Then he simply shook
his head. "Jesus Christ, Sorcha, my darlin’, you look gorgeous."

She was tall, willow slim. Her feet were bare. Her hands
unadorned except for the slim gold ring on her wedding finger. His ring. She
wore a white silk gown that covered her from head to toe. A gown that reminded
Duncan of the garment a nun might have worn forty years ago. Her fabulous hair,
hair the color of ink, was covered. All that denoted her status as Queen of the
world she ruled, was the slim gold circlet on her head that held a gold emblem
denoting the third-eye that sat in the middle of her smooth forehead. Her skin
was flawless, the color of fresh cream. The black brows arched now as eyes,
black as night, drank him in.

He read the lust.

He read the love.

He read the despair.

Those high cheekbones were razor sharp and flushed, the chin
pointed beneath a full and luscious mouth. Anxiety entered those dark eyes even
as her mouth curved.

"The boys, they are well?"

Her voice was soft and deep. The sound seemed to caress his
flesh, tingle his spine, and he went even harder.

"Our sons are good. Marcus is married. Lovely girl.
James is married, too. His wife is with child. In seven months you will be a
grandmother, my darlin’."

He caught the flash of joy in those dark eyes, before she
frowned.

"Daniel and Adam?"

"They are doing well. Daniel's
empathic
abilities are growing," he growled the word.

Sorcha smiled, a response that made his heart ache in his
chest like a bad tooth.

"He takes after my father. Blood will out, and
Adam?"

"He's based in Edinburgh." Then he hesitated as
his eyes held hers. "The girls?"

"Growing fast. Azalea is testing boundaries, while the
rest simply watch to see what sort of punishment might befall her."