The Vampyre Legal Chronicles - Marcus (20 page)

"She is bonded
to me, Ian."

"Your
father..."

"Is not here.
There’s no time for a discussion, Ian. I want you and three others
with me."

Marcus knew
nothing would have stopped the Centuri Commander from shadowing
him, so he might as well have him on board.

Ian bowed his
head once. "As you wish."

"I'm coming,
too."

Marcus turned
to his younger brother, gripped both his arms.

He shook his
head.

"No. You have
Charlotte waiting for you at home. Contact father, the council, and
tell them what's happened."

In theory, in the
on-going vampyre war Christian churches were neutral ground.

In reality,
vampyres fought wherever the fight took them, and that included
sacred ground.

The Cathedral
of The Immaculate Conception in Shanghai was constructed of red
brick. Each brick manufactured by the hands of the faithful. With
its soaring twin spires it sat somewhat incongruously among
skyscrapers of steel and glass. The historic monument was a
testament to the tenacity of the human spirit.

The Centuri
checked out the grounds, the entrance, before Marcus stalked
through the great doors of the Cathedral.

The being who
stood waiting for them on the pulpit had hair the color of black
coffee pulled back in a plait that reached his waist. Ezekiel’s
pale skin was stretched taut across high cheekbones. Under slashing
brows, brown eyes slid insolently over Marcus. He knew they were
assessing the number of lethal weapons concealed under his calf
length duster of soft black leather.

The witch was
dressed from head to toe in armour of oiled leather the color of
claret. He was backed by three Legionnaires who looked exactly what
they were, heartless, conscience-free cocksuckers.

Marcus hadn’t seen
Ezekiel, up close and personal, for over a hundred years. If
anything the passing of time, and indulging in nefarious
activities, had done nothing to negate the impact of his physical
presence. The fucker was still built like a bull. Those heavy
thighs made his leathers creek as he sat on the red-carpeted step
of the dais.

Ezekiel leaned
back on his elbows as if they were best pals meeting for a quick
beer after a busy day at work.

And Marcus was
so not in the mood for any of Ezekiel's shit.

His fists
clenched as his eyes slitted.

"Where is
she?"

Ezekiel's dark
eyes narrowed as he studied Marcus, the furious mask of his
face.

Then he nodded,
once, as if something had satisfied him.

"Manners,
Marcus. Anais is safe and well. For the moment."

The voice was
too low, too soft, too... affable.

Marcus merely
ran his tongue over his fangs and gave the bastard big eyes.

"You have five
seconds to bring her to me or you won’t see the dawn."

Expecting an
argument and praying for a fight, Marcus blinked when Ezekiel
snapped his fingers.

A Legionnaire
walked from behind a side door carrying in his arms a lifeless
looking Anais.

She wore a thin
silk robe, which did nothing to disguise the delicate flesh of her
beautiful body. Seeing her pale face as she was carried in the arms
of his enemy brought him a swift and savage anger, and a cold,
clammy fear. Marcus didn’t care what anyone thought, in less than a
second he had her in his arms.

A hand that
wasn’t quite steady cupped her face, stroked her icy features.

Christ, she was
unconscious.

And he couldn’t
get a bead on her thoughts, her dreams or a single emotion.

He turned to
Ian.

"Give me your
coat."

Ian removed his
duster as Marcus placed the love of his life in black leather and
wrapped her tight.

He kissed her
cold mouth before handing her to the huge Centuri.

The look that
passed between them said it all.

If things go
wrong, get her out alive.

Ian nodded
once.

"How...
touching," the soft voice came again, this time dripping with scorn
edged with utter contempt.

Marcus turned
his head to give the witch a long, hard stare.

He swore an
oath that if Ezekiel changed the habit of a lifetime and found a
woman to care for, he’d get payback, in spades.

A commotion at
the doors to the Cathedral had them turn.

"Step away from
the Witch!"

Marcus couldn’t
help it, he rolled his eyes and was more than shocked when he
caught Ezekiel mirroring the move even as he shook his head.

Surrounded by
her Centuri guard, Saira Pattullo looked like a seriously pissed
off and armed to the teeth Lara Croft. She took one look at Anais
and flashed over to check her vital signs. Her creased forehead,
the sharp hiss through Saira's teeth, told Marcus they had a
problem.

"Out!" Marcus
commanded Saira’s Italian Centuri.

They snapped to
attention, turned and marched out the way they’d come in.

He turned his
head at a choking sound behind him, his enquiring eyes clashed with
Ezekiel’s.

"Something
funny?" he growled.

"I see Saira’s
still not channelling her feminine side."

Water off a
duck's back, Saira didn't look at Ezekiel, instead her worried eyes
stayed on Marcus. "She is alive, but unresponsive. I think she is
be-spelled."

At that piece
of interesting information, Marcus turned his head to stare daggers
at the witch.

Ezekiel simply
shrugged.

"Bad timing.
Anais is a newborn. The human mind is a fragile thing. Her, err...
trip off the balcony was more than her psyche could handle. In her
mind, she’s gone to where she considers is a safe place.
Unfortunately, she is stubborn and refuses to leave. Someone she
trusts will need to go into her mind and retrieve her."

Since he’d
experienced Anais's moment of terror for himself, and could see
where this was going, Marcus again promised severe retribution in
Ezekiel’s near future.

His eyes
narrowed as the question growled in his throat,

"What
trip
off the balcony?"

Those cold,
remorseless eyes met his.

"My
Legionnaires had a little... fun, with her. One threw her over the
balcony and the other caught her. She was perfectly safe. However,
it frightened her. You can rest assured they have been
punished."

Marcus
eye-balled the Legionnaires standing behind Ezekiel with a look
that promised vengeance.

They stared
right through him.

Bastards.

Now he turned
to Ezekiel.

"What do you
want?"

The witch
nodded once, as if that was the opening he'd been waiting for, and
stood.

"You and I need
to talk, alone."

Silence.

"I cannot think
of one thing you and I need to discuss."

Ezekiel’s eyes
went cold, dark as jet, and Marcus read a wary anxiety in those
inky depths.

Something was
definitely up if it had spooked this piece of shit.

Ezekiel seemed to know
his way around the Cathedral.

Which was
something of a surprise, since vampyres, witches and the church
mixed like oil and water. Marcus decided to file that little bit of
interesting information to think on later.

He led the way
to a small side room lit by church candles, which appeared to be a
priest’s room. Then he settled himself in a plush chair of burgundy
velvet.

The scent of
beeswax and incense forcibly reminded Marcus of a time, in the dim
and distant past, when he and Ezekiel had fought on the same
side.

Until the day
Ezekiel had discovered the truth of his birth and had betrayed his
race by embracing magic.

Dark magic.

"We have a
problem," the witch said.

Did they
indeed?

If someone was
giving Ezekiel a problem, Marcus wanted to shake their hand, buy
them a drink, and give them a fucking medal.

Through
narrowed eyes, he studied the being sitting across from him.

The strong jaw
was clenched and those dark eyes were grave.

Interesting.

"I think you
mean
you
have a problem."

Ezekiel shook
his head.

He spread his
legs, leaned forward to lean his elbows on his knees.

Those dark eyes
never left his and Marcus read sincerity.

He felt the
first tickle of anxiety at the base of his spine.

"It is
imperative I speak with the council. I need your father's
help."

Not gonna
happen.

Not in this
lifetime.

Marcus shook
his head.

"You gotta
death wish?"

Ezekiel’s hands
fisted and then relaxed.

Marcus had the
distinct impression the witch was struggling with his patience.

Again that
little flutter of concern crept further up his spinal column.

Dear old
Ezekiel was not known for his... forbearance.

"Have you
noticed something strange about me?" the witch asked Marcus with a
straight face.

"Is that a
trick question?"

He had plenty
of other smart comeback lines, but Marcus caught himself when he
realised the question was indeed deadly serious.

So he went with
his instincts and told the truth.

"You’re looking
better than expected, considering you harvest humans, which is a
disgusting habit by the way."

Ezekiel simply
shook his head.

"No. We do not
harvest humans. Like you, we use Constantine’s hemoglobin products.
The swine flu scare taught us a salutary lesson. If humans ever
discovered the outbreak came from vampyres they would hunt us down,
destroy us."

Now then, this
was
news.

His brow
creased.

"I do not
believe for one moment that Constantine would sell you, of all
people, blood products."

Ezekiel’s voice
went silky soft.

"Unlike you,
Constantine is not troubled by political dogma, but with the
greater good and the containment of disease. Although I admit it
pains me, he does have an unhealthy concern about the human
population. However, I cannot put my physical appearance down to
his products alone."

Marcus's mind
turned to an unconscious Anais resting in the Cathedral under the
watchful eye of Saira and his Centuri.

"I do not have
time for riddles, witch."

Ezekiel stood
and paced to the door and back.

Marcus had
never seen him so agitated.

He narrowed his
eyes fractionally as the witch stopped before him and simply
stared.

"It has to do
with magic."

At that Marcus
raised a dark brow.

"If you have
pissed off the dark side, what is my father supposed to do about
it? There’s a fucking good reason why it’s forbidden to tamper with
hubble, bubble, toil and trouble."

Ezekiel dropped
into his chair, and closed his eyes, pressing his fingertips into
his eyelids in a way that told Marcus he was at the end of his
tether.

He opened his
eyes and now Marcus read real fear.

"Five days ago,
within a matter of minutes, I lost over two hundred and fifty
Legionnaires."

Marcus
blinked.

Whoa.

He hadn’t heard
of a battle.

These days the
Centuri used hit and run guerrilla tactics against the Legion
rather than full frontal assault.

Before he could
ask how, where and why, Ezekiel continued,

"We were
training in the Gobi desert. A portal opened and… something came
through. The punch of power was unlike anything I’ve ever felt or
seen. I lost consciousness. When I came round, bones were all that
was left of my Legion." He shuddered. "Then, the portal began to
dissipate. The thing stepped through into its own dimension. But
then it turned and looked right at me and... smiled."

If something
had the hots for Ezekiel and his motley crew then that was fine
with Marcus.

He barely
managed to restrain himself from doing a bum boogie.

Instead, he
shrugged.

"Can’t say I’m
sorry to hear you had your ass kicked by something big and bad from
the dark-side. Let it be a lesson to you to stop messing with
nature."

For an
unremitting moment, Ezekiel simply stared at him.

"It was a
soul-eater."

Marcus
blinked.

Bull.
Shit.

Marcus stood
and yawned with a big lazy stretch.

He'd no idea
what game the witch was playing but he wasn’t interested in fairy
stories.

Now he turned
to Ezekiel.

Gave him a big
toothy grin that didn't reach his eyes.

"You know, you
almost had me there."

"Anais saw
it."

Marcus stood
absolutely still.

Excuse the
fuck out of me?

Now the bastard
had his full attention.

"What does that
mean?"

Ezekiel
stood.

"When she
arrived here, she was traumatized. So I... entered her mind, to
calm her." He took another breath and their eyes met. "You are a
lucky man, Marcus. Anais is... special."

Marcus didn’t
like the tone of Ezekiel’s voice or the way his eyes went soft when
the witch talked about
his
woman.

"Spit it out"’
he growled low in his throat.

Ezekiel took a
breath.

"Think of it
like a computer download of a file. I used a little magic to
implant a sense of calm in her mind. I don’t know how she did it,
but Anais slid right into my mind, into my memories. Marcus, she
imprinted too fast and saw too much before I closed her down."