Way of the Wolf: Shifter Legacies 1 (55 page)

“This is Stephen, Dad,” Marie said and added, “Be nice.”

“When haven’t I been nice to your guests?” William said and grinned when she rolled her eyes. “Well, all right, but this one isn’t a potential boyfriend. You can’t expect miracles.”

“He didn’t like Terry,” Marie confided to Stephen.

“I like him for that,” he replied and laughed when William beamed at him. He seemed to be a very jolly fellow; he was glad for Marie’s sake. “I’m pleased to meet you at last.”

William nodded and indicated seats. Neither of them offered to shake hands. Stephen rarely offered, knowing that most humans would refuse and be uncomfortable refusing, and perhaps William was one of those people, as he seemed relieved. He was less sanguine however, when Marie chose to sit next to him on the same couch, leaving her father standing alone. She grinned at him, and William muttered something under his breath before finding his own seat.

“I’ve reviewed the reports that Marie commissioned,” William began, sending his daughter a mock glare, but his pride in her was obvious. “They are, unfortunately, damning. I will say right now that these projects
were
not and
are
not sanctioned by me or Techtron’s board.”

“Convenient,” Stephen said ignoring Marie’s gasp and her father’s flush of anger. “I’m a businessman as you are. Not on the same scale of course, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are head of your House—Techtron—and are therefore responsible for what it does, just as I am responsible for what those who are sworn to my House do in its name. Techtron is working with an outlawed group, terrorists who spend their time killing and persecuting people like me.”

William glared. “Not Techtron. These clandestine projects are not on the books. They’re the sole responsibility of one man only, and he will be disciplined. I can assure you that Wilson is finished at Techtron, and any on the board who knowingly abetted him will be jettisoned along with him.”

That was very satisfying. This mess had been festering for months. Without Marie’s intervention, he would still be trying unsuccessfully to arrange a meeting like this one. Satisfying then that they had made such great progress all at once, but it didn’t solve the underlying problem of AML. He wasn’t sure anything could solve it, but in the short term cutting off its funding would help.

“What about Wilson’s other activities? His meetings with Newman, his indirect funding of AML through shell companies owned by Techtron?”

“I’m in the process of tracking down all of them. Once I know how he managed to hide the syphoning of funds, and where those funds were transferred, I’ll shut down the entire operation. That’s one reason I agreed to this meeting. I want your agreement to allow me to investigate Wilson properly without interference. I’m aware of what you could do, but I’m asking you not to. I need to learn the extent of the rot before I start cutting. I don’t want a recurrence of this a few years down the line.”

Stephen nodded thoughtfully. He could understand the need to clean house properly. William’s acknowledgement that he needed his cooperation to do that was gratifying. He had considered just killing Wilson more than once, but that really wouldn’t solve the AML problem. Perhaps mapping their various sources of funding would begin that process.

“How far along with it are you, may I see?”

William nodded. “Marie, the red folder on my desk if you would?”

Marie stood and went to her father’s desk, but before she located the folder there came a crash and a shout from somewhere in the house. Startled, she looked up and took a step toward the door to investigate. Stephen reacted instinctively to shield her and bar her way. It might be nothing, but then again it might be something. In a minor display of power, he was across the room and in front of the door. He held up a hand, and Marie stopped where she was in the middle of the room.

“What’s going on?” William said, his face beginning to darken with suspicion.

“I have no notion. Perhaps nothing, but for Marie’s sake allow me to investigate.” He opened the door and peered out, but nothing seemed amiss. He advanced.

“Be careful!” Marie called.

“I shall,” he said without turning. Something felt out of place, but he couldn’t quite get a sense of it. He had the distinct feeling he had forgotten something. “I’ll be back shortly.”

He closed the office door firmly, wishing he could have locked it and stationed a guard to protect its contents. A few of his wolves would have been handy about now, or that security guard he met earlier. Yes, where was the fellow? He looked about himself but the house seemed deserted. The shout should have brought the man running, surely.

He listened intently and thought he heard something coming from the back of the house. He headed that way opening doors and peering into rooms. There was no sign of disturbance and he began to feel a little silly. Perhaps one of the staff had dropped something and the mishap had caused him to shout in startlement. He frowned; he didn’t believe that—

The attack came out of nowhere and he was flying off his feet, snarling in pain. His chest was on fire! Not literally, but it hurt as if flames were consuming him. He crashed to the floor on his back, his hands ripping at his shirt and the flesh beneath. He tore the silvered daggers out of his chest, vowing bloody vengeance. As soon as the hated metal left his body, the coolness he associated with healing replaced the pain. The great beyond and the coolness of the grave was a balm to his kind.

He sprang to his feet and threw the daggers aside as his attacker arrived. It was a vampire, a young one, and his aura felt strange. He remembered Gavin’s description of O’Neal; how his aura had felt weak one moment and powerful the next. This newborn was the same. Suddenly he feared for Marie and her father. Were they still safe? He had no time to check; he was busy fighting for his life. He thought longingly of his sword and wished he’d brought it, but as with prayer, wishes did him little good. He had his strength and his fangs. They would have to be enough.

Fists and feet hammered his body, but they did little to harm him. They did succeed in annoying him—they made it hard to retaliate effectively when he had to block the strikes. He used his speed, one of his greatest assets, to get behind his opponent and that was that. He grabbed the man’s head and wrenched it hard back with a nice little twist to complete the move. The neck snapped. It wasn’t a killing tactic, but it did inconvenience the man. It was hard to see your enemy and fight effectively with a broken neck. He didn’t give him time to heal. He twisted the head all the way around, ignoring the man’s snapping jaws and his scrabbling hands. Another full turn and he ripped the head free. The body froze for a timeless moment, and then collapsed like the dead thing it was.

Another dagger came out of nowhere and buried itself in his belly. This time he simply brushed it away, threw the head at this new attacker, and charged. The human’s eyes widened in fear. He ducked the incoming head and brought up a machine gun of the type Angel sometimes carried. The man triggered a burst, but Stephen was already inside his reach and sweeping the arm holding the weapon aside. Bullets stitched the walls and ceiling, but none came close to their intended target. He grinned, his fangs fully extended and the man screamed. He didn’t have time to scream a second time, a severed carotid artery and missing windpipe did tend to inhibit them.

He spat the morsel out and stepped aside to avoid the pumping blood, letting the soon to be corpse collapse writhing at his feet. He chose not to feed in Marie’s house. It would have helped speed his healing, but he didn’t feel comfortable doing it where she might see.

He could hear gunfire outside now, and more shouting. Security was apparently fighting back. He ran toward the sound. He didn’t know who the attackers were, but AML would be a good bet. Gavin had fought and killed O’Neal, a newborn vampire, and here he was being attacked by another. AML were involved in Michael’s abduction, and perhaps this attack was an attempt to replicate that success, or perhaps William was the target. Wilson may have learned about the subject of their meeting and sent them to disrupt it. It didn’t really matter now; killing them did. Whoever they were, they had proven themselves to be a diverse group. He had never heard of AML working with non-humans before.

He found the fight. Security guards lay dead or dying upon the ground outside along with a similar number of their attackers. Going by numbers alone, he would say it was a standoff, but who was to say there weren’t more of his kind on the grounds. He found a familiar face among the defenders. It was one of the two men he’d met briefly earlier. He couldn’t recall his name but that didn’t matter. What did was Marie’s safety.

“Let me deal with this,” Stephen began, joining the man behind the cover of a pretty balustrade overlooking the formal gardens. “Take someone with you and protect Marie. Do you have a safe room here, or a way to get her off the property?”

The man hesitated. “Yes but—”

“Don’t argue with me. Get Marie and her father away from here.”

The man nodded. He patted his companion’s shoulder and together they scurried back into the house, keeping low. Stephen watched them go, and let his fangs descend. He was going to slaughter everything not belonging to Marie and enjoy it; perhaps enjoy it too much, but she would be safe and hopefully never know what he’d done to ensure it.

He laughed at the thought of what he was about to do and breathed deeply of the nighttime air, enjoying the sensation of raising his power. He rarely got the chance to let himself off the leash of discipline so hard won over the centuries. Truly, this night would be one to remember. His eyes flashed to silver, looking like liquid metal orbs in their sockets as he turned his power loose on the night. It manifested first as speed, second as physical strength, but perhaps the most impressive from his enemy’s point of view was his glamour. To them, he appeared like a black winged avenging angel as he slaughtered them. They felt the wind stirred by his beating wings, felt the feathers on skin as he enfolded them in his embrace. It was glamour, just illusion, but all too real to men and women with no defence against it.

Screams filled the night air, and machine guns chattered as terrified people fired at phantoms, often hitting their compatriots in their panic. One by one, he silenced their voices, their blood and screams devoured by the black-winged angel of vengeance. He fed and fed and fed until he could swallow no more, and simply allowed the blood to flow out of them upon the thirsty ground. His wounds healed, replaced by fresh ones, but those healed almost instantly. His power was on him in full measure, and he raged through the grounds killing everyone he found.

Finally, he came back to himself, covered in blood and feeling empty again. He should be full to bursting, but he wasn’t. He had drained a dozen humans. That would usually be enough essence to last weeks, but he had spent it all like a spendthrift upon killing his enemies. He did not regret it, but hunger was gnawing at his vitals again. He eyed the corpses, but they didn’t appeal. A shifter might take a bite out of a corpse and take no ill effect, but his kind could not feed upon the truly dead, not even upon the recently dead. They needed live blood and donors.

He turned in a circle hopefully, but he sensed only death in the darkness. Bodies littered the ground all around him in every direction. Bent and broken weapons were stuck in the lawns and flowerbeds, their barrels planted in the soil like macabre garden ornaments. He pulled at his sodden shirt and grimaced at the feel of it peeling away from his skin. Edward would not be happy about this. His suit had been Armani, ordered especially for this occasion.

He tugged his tie loose and over his head. He shoved it into his jacket pocket and felt for his comb. He could do nothing about the blood on his shirt, but he could at least make an effort. He hoped Marie and her father were long gone from here, but if not, he didn’t want them thinking ill of him. He combed his hair and removed his jacket, folding it over one arm and holding it to cover as much of his bloodied shirt as it would. It was the best he could do. He headed back to the house.

He entered through the rear and retraced his earlier route. When Terry appeared with Marie, he smiled in relief that quickly turned to alarm. She was crying, and Terry was holding her upper arm tight enough to bruise. Anger surged, and suddenly he knew what he’d forgotten earlier. It had been Terry. He had forgotten he was here, but more than that, he couldn’t feel their bond. With his child right before him, he couldn’t feel it.
Impossible!
He gaped in utter surprise and shock when a group of newborn vampires exited the office at Terry’s back and paused to watch.

Terry laughed and shook Marie roughly, making her cry out.

Stephen snarled, and would have launched himself at the traitor, but fear for Marie held him back.

“She’s dead the moment you don’t do what you’re told,” Terry said. “My new master has sworn that I can have her.” He licked his lips ostentatiously. “He swore that I can have her in any way that I want her. He promised. All I have to do is deliver you, and here you are. Sound familiar?”

Stephen frowned. It was a variation on the deal he’d struck with Terry in exchange for bestowing the gift upon him. He had asked for an introduction to Marie. Terry had promoted himself as her boyfriend at the time, a lie as it had turned out. He was using a similar gambit again. He never had been very bright or original.

“Don’t hurt her, and I’ll come with you peacefully.”