Winter's Touch (Immortal Touch Series) (35 page)

“Wonderful. Well, if there are no further issues,
then I’ll see you Friday.”

“See you then, sir. Enjoy your evening.”

Regrettably, the likelihood of that had dropped drastically as soon as he’d seen that message from the fanger in San Francisco.
Plans for this weekend on hold.
Kendall’s ridiculous code phrase for
imminent trouble.
The guy relished playing James Bond just a little too much for his taste. It wasn’t as if anyone would give two shits if they caught a glimpse of a text reading
call me, serious problem here!
After all, nobody knew or even remotely suspected. And they never would, because it was Asher’s self-imposed responsibility to keep it that way and he was damn good at what he did.

Unlocking his
Maserati GranTurismo convertible with the keyless remote, he slid inside and checked his reflection in the sun visor’s mirror, grinning back at his own image. Perfectly straight white teeth, black hair trimmed in a trendy layered style, eyes as blue as the ocean his condos overlooked. Skin lightly tanned from hours of water sports. It never failed to amuse him that everyone assumed vampires despised the sunlight.

Oh yeah, h
e was one sexy beast.
Vanity, thy name is Asher Reid.

Satisfied
with his appearance, he selected his second-in-command’s name on the screen of the Bluetooth interface.

“
Tristan Kendall here.”

Ash rolled his eyes. “Cut the crap
Kendall, you know it’s me. Can you talk?”

“Hang on one sec.” Background
sounds of rustling, muffled voices, then a door slamming. “All right.” He hesitated just long enough to cause Ash’s pearly whites to grind together impatiently. “I’m afraid we’ve got a problem.”

“Of what sort?”

Another pause. This time it almost appeared to be out of reluctance to share his news rather than for dramatic effect. Then, “We have a new initiate.”

He
damn well better have heard that incorrectly. “Tris, you better be either drunk or fucking with me.”

“I’m not
joking. Uh...or drunk.”

An unauthorized induction.
Son of a bitch. Only one name sprang to mind - that idiotic hardheaded skirt chaser in Texas. They’d butted heads more than once. “It was Sawyer, wasn’t it?”

Tristan
cleared his throat. “Well now, that’s the thing. You see, I’ve already contacted everyone. And...it wasn’t one of us. Or at least, nobody’s fessing up to it.”

Ash frowned
at the dashboard. Either way, Kendall was right. This
was
a problem. Best case, one of the group had gone rogue and would have to be eliminated. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to deal with that situation. Getting his hands dirty now and again was all part of the lifestyle.

It was the
worst case scenario that troubled him. For years he’d relied on Kendall’s unique ability to sense other vampires. This particular talent made him invaluable. But if someone had recently been inducted and it wasn’t by one of their own, then the only remaining conclusion was that there was someone out there who had escaped his awareness. That was unacceptable.

“Male or female?”

“Female.”

That sounded like
Drake Sawyer, all right. Redneck fanger thought with his pecker instead of his brain. “Do you have an ID or location on her yet?”

“Not yet. I’ve been concentrating on her as much as possible, but nothing’s come through yet. And it’s very exhausting, you know.”

“I know, and I appreciate it.” Tristan was the sensitive type and easy enough to manipulate as long as he was coddled with sympathy and understanding, even if it
was
all a bunch of bull.

“Should I send
Drake a summons?”

“No, not yet. Just keep trying to get a position on the newbie
for now. The minute you have any information get up with me, no matter the hour. Comprende?”

“Will do.”

Asher slipped on his Louis Vuitton sunglasses and applied some lip balm while contemplating the new development. Disturbing news aside, this situation could supply just the sort of excitement he craved. The novelty of killing humans had long since worn off, as their pathetic fragility hardly produced much of a challenge. Admittedly, he did still savor the fear in their eyes at that precise point when they realized certain death was imminent. But the act itself was pitifully easy.

Exterminating another vampire, though
...now that was always a challenge. And one that he looked forward to with relish.

~
*~*~

It snowed during the night, and the Scottish landscape was
lightly blanketed with a shimmering layer of alabaster beauty by the time the lovers rose from their slumber. The flakes were still falling, wafting leisurely as if they shared the knowledge that there was all the time in the world.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” Eva sipped her cappuccino while watching Julian peck away at the laptop’s keys.
She’d almost expected it to taste different now, but it didn’t. It still tasted like creamy coffee.

“As soon as I change your flight reservations, we’re going out for a
while.” He glanced over at Lainie, who was busily knitting in her favorite chair. “That is, if you think you’re fit enough to be left alone?”

“I’m as fit as I e
’er was,” came the cantankerous reply. “It’ll take more than a bump on the noggin to do
me
in, I can tell ye.”

Eva didn’t have to ask why he was
adjusting her flight schedule. It was probably best they were both long gone before the eventual discovery that the Guthries were missing. Not that anyone was likely to give them an awful lot of consideration - Alistair was hardly popular with the locals. They’d probably be glad to be rid of his vulgar presence.

“I
can get us a flight for day after tomorrow,” Julian was saying. “Does that suit you?”

“Sounds good to me.”
She stretched happily. “So where are we going?”

“I thought I’d show you around a bit before we have to leave. We don’t have time to do much, but I can at least give you a
quick tour of the immediate area.” He closed the laptop and finished his coffee. “You might want to dress warmly - the temperature’s twenty-five and dropping.”

He caught the
perplexed look she gave him and laughed ruefully. “Right. I almost forgot. Well, bundle up anyway or you’ll look out of place. Maybe the cold no longer bothers you as much, but I assume everyone else will be feeling it.”

The weather
was
bitingly cold, but the discomfort was gone and as they drove through the village she lowered her car window just to feel the clean air on her face. Her hair whipped wildly in the wind and she laughed when a man emerging from the butcher shop gawked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

The landscape was something
out of a Highland fairy tale. In the distance rose the misty outlines of the Cairngorm Mountains, and in her more immediate view emerged gently sloping hills and snowy pastures that in springtime would shed their white robes for an endless sea of green. Someday she would visit Scotland in the spring, in all its budding glory. But for now they stopped just north of the village beside a lovely old church with gracefully rounded windows, surrounded on all sides by hundreds of slate tombstones.

“That’s the
Abernethy Parish Church, otherwise known as the Old Kirk,” Julian informed her after they’d parked the car and stepped out. “The gravestones date back from the eighteenth century. Plenty of history here, but this isn’t what I wanted to show you.
That
is.”

On an elevated
knoll adjacent to the church was a huge rectangular parallelogram of a structure that was comprised of only four high rubble-stone walls whose archaic age was apparent. The roof and any interior walls it once possessed must have crumbled long, long ago.

Fascinated, she took his hand and walked with him toward
s the ruins. They were, oddly enough, penned in within the confines of a post-and-wire fence. He pushed open the gate easily with one hand and led her up the steep hillock for a closer look.

“Are these castle ruins?” she asked him, taking in the
venerable stone walls with awe.

“
The remains of a thirteenth-century fortress,” he replied as they passed through a wide pointed archway. “Castle Roy, sometimes referred to as Redcastle. Quite possibly the oldest ruins in all of Scotland. Nothing of its history survives, nothing authentic anyway. Isn’t it incredible?”

She reached out and
stroked one of the massive stones, marveling at the idea that hundreds of years ago this very stronghold had housed some ancient Scottish clan. Who knew what events went on inside these walls? What hopes and dreams and fears belonged to each of its inhabitants? It was a wonderfully romantic thought.

“Those walls are seven feet thick
,” Julian was saying. He put his own hand over hers as it rested on the rough stone and she shivered with pleasure. “They’ve endured for eight hundred years. To the world, that seems a long measure of time. To us, Eva, it will be but a fleeting moment. One day you and I will stand together viewing today’s modern structures as dilapidated ruins.”

His pensive tone caused her to look at him questioningly, and the dark eyes that once held such
cold distance now gazed into hers with pure and abiding love. “Our existence transcends that of the mortals. Their ways and customs are superfluous and irrelevant to our way of life.”

Abruptly he kissed her, his hand still
imprisoning hers against the ancient wall.

“That being said, it is my desire to tie you to me in every conceivable way possible. Your love brought me out of the dark chasm of hell and into
the arms of the only woman I’ll ever want. Marry me, Eva. Take my name. Be one with me for eternity.”

Before she even had time to inhale, he slipped a ring on her finger and pulled her
close to him. “I love you. Tell me you’ll be mine and mine alone. I cannot go through this life without you by my side.”

Tears filled her
sparkling eyes and she pressed her face against his warm chest while trying to contain the intense happiness enveloping every recess of her soul.

“Jules
...I’ve always been only yours. There is nothing in the world I will ever want more than to be your wife. Of course I’ll marry you.”

~
*~*~

Bleak stone walls
...a background of rolling hills filled with towering snowcapped pines...a chaotic smattering of aged gravestones resting at the foot of the crumbling shell.

Tristan
relinquished his hold on the vision with a weary sigh, rubbing his temples with both hands. Homing in on the surroundings of a fellow vampire was much more difficult than pinpointing the precise location of humans. Their auras were harder to sense, and hers in particular was frustratingly vague. The way she faded in and out was vexing.

Still
wondering about the obscure image, he sloughed into the kitchen and grabbed the bottles of Kahlúa and vodka from the cabinet. A White Russian sounded sublime right about now. Okay, so three o’clock in the morning might not be the most conventional time for it, but who was to know, right? He lived alone. No one to answer to. It was just easier that way.

Maybe
he should have gone out earlier this evening and helped himself to a nice nip of B-positive, his personal favorite. Might have made concentrating a little less taxing. It
had
been about three weeks since he’d replenished himself. And San Francisco was a veritable smorgasbord of flavors.

He certainly deserved it after the unproductive day he’d had.

Carrying his drink into the office that doubled as a weight room, he pulled the swivel chair in front of the desktop computer and quickly checked his emails, reading one or two and deleting the rest. A lot of them were from wholesale distributors wanting him to use their products in his restaurant, as if he’d ever use anything that wasn’t one hundred percent fresh. His customers didn’t pay extravagant prices for processed food.

Some stubborn part of him insisted he give it one last shot before calling it a night, so he
closed his eyes and concentrated once again. Surprisingly he still had a grasp on her and now someone nearby was talking. A male voice. What was he saying? Focus...

Castle Roy, sometimes referred to as Redcastle. Quite possibly the oldest ruins in all of
Scotland...

Oh,
yes!
Jackpot!

After about two minutes of quick research on the computer, he snatched up his cell phone and called
Reid. The voice that finally answered was groggy and more than a little cranky. But hell, he was the one who’d instructed him to call no matter the hour, right? And this news ought to perk him right up.