Ashes of Midnight (2 page)

 

No, he hadn’t forgotten. Recognition flickered behind
the pain and fear in Waldemar’s slitted pupils. “Son of a bitch… Andreas Reichen.”

 

“That’s right.” Reichen held the bastard in a gaze so deadly furious it must have burned to hold it. “What’s the matter, Agent Waldemar? You seem surprised to see me.”

 

“I—I don’t understand. The attack on the Darkhaven this past summer…” The vampire sucked in a choked breath. “I’d heard no one survived.”

 

“Almost no one,” Reichen corrected tightly.

 

And now Waldemar knew why he’d been paid this unexpected visit. There was no mistaking the bleak awareness in the other male’s gaze. Or the stark fear. When he spoke now, his voice shook a bit. “I had nothing to do with it, Andreas. You must believe me—”

 

Reichen snorted. “That’s what the others said, too.”

 

Waldemar started to squirm, but Reichen pressed down harder with his knee planted heavily against the vampire’s throat. Waldemar wheezed, trying to raise his hands as the weight began to crush his air channel. “Please…just tell me what you want from me.”

 

“Justice.”

 

With neither satisfaction nor remorse, Reichen grabbed Waldemar’s head in his hands and gave a fierce yank. His neck snapped, then the Breed male’s head fell back to the floor with a heavy
thunk
.

 

Reichen exhaled a deep sigh that did little to purge his anguish, or the grief he felt at being alive and alone. The sole survivor. The last of his family line.

 

As he stood and prepared to leave this latest death behind him, a glint of polished glass on one of the room’s several mahogany bookcases caught his eye. He stalked over to it, his feet moving automatically, sharpened gaze fixed on the face of his enemy that stared out from within
the silver-framed photograph. He grabbed the picture and stared down at it, his fingers hot where they pressed into the metal of the frame. Reichen’s eyes burned the longer he looked at that hated face, a growl curling low in his throat, raw with visceral, still-smoldering rage.

 

Wilhelm Roth stood among a small group of Breed males wearing ceremonial Enforcement Agency garb. All of them were decked out in black tuxedos and starched white shirts, their chests festooned with bright silk sashes and gleaming pendant medallions, gilded rapiers sheathed at their sides. Reichen snorted at the self-importance—the power-hungry arrogance—etched in those smug, smiling faces.

 

Now they were dead men…all but one.

 

He’d saved Roth for last, having meticulously worked his way up the chain of command. First the Agency death squad members who’d ambushed his Darkhaven home and opened fire on every living being inside—even the females, even the infants asleep in their cribs. Next he’d targeted the handful of Enforcement Agency cronies who had made no secret of their allegiance to the powerful Darkhaven leader responsible for ordering the slaughter.

 

One by one over the past several weeks, the guilty had met their end. The vampire lying dead and broken on the floor was the last known member of Wilhelm Roth’s corrupt inner circle in Germany.

 

Which left Roth himself.

 

The bastard was going to burn for what he’d done.

 

But first he would suffer.

 

Reichen’s gaze drifted back to the framed photograph in his hands and froze there. On first glance, he hadn’t noticed the woman. All of his focus—all his fury—had been
centered solely on Roth. Now that he had found her, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

 

Claire
.

 

She stood off to the side of the group of Breed males, petite yet regal in a sleeveless ghost-gray gown that made her light brown skin look as smooth and lush as satin. Her soft black hair was swept up in a careful chignon, not a single strand out of place.

 

Time had not aged her so much as a year from when he’d known her—not that it would, when she was kept youthful and strong by the blood bond she shared with her chosen mate these thirty-some years. She was looking at Wilhelm Roth and his criminal friends, smiling with a perfectly schooled, perfectly unreadable expression.

 

A perfectly proper mate to the vampire who had proven to be Reichen’s most treacherous adversary.

 

Claire
.

 

After all this time
.

 

My Claire
, he thought grimly.

 

No, not his.

 

Once, perhaps. Long ago, and for merely a few months at that. A brief handful of time.

 

Ancient history.

 

Reichen stared at her image behind the silver-framed glass, surprised at how easily his fury for Wilhelm Roth could bleed over to the vampire’s Breedmate. Sweet, lovely Claire … in bed with his most hated enemy. Was she aware of Roth’s corruption? Did she condone it?

 

It hardly mattered.

 

He had a mission to fulfill. Justice to claim. A deadly, final vengeance to serve.

 

And nothing would stand in his way… not even her.

 

Reichen’s gaze bore down on the photograph, fury
smoldering in the amber light that reflected back at him from the surface of the glass. His fingers burned where his skin met the metal of the frame. He tried to cool the acid tempest swirling in his gut, but it was too late to hope for even a small measure of calm. With a snarl, he tossed the photograph to the floor and turned away from it. He stalked to one of the tall windows and willed open the pane, knowing he couldn’t trust his touch now that his rage was so close to ruling him.

 

Reichen stepped onto the sill in a crouch, hearing the hot spit and sizzle of melting silver and cracking glass as the framed photograph burst into flames behind him.

 

Then he leapt into the thick autumn night to finish what Wilhelm Roth had started.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER
Two

 

 

C
laire Roth’s lips pursed in contemplation as she stared down at the architect’s model spread out on the table in her library. “What do you think about moving the bench away from the strolling path and closer to the koi pond, just on the other side of the cottage roses?”

 

“An excellent idea,” said a bright female voice over the speakerphone situated nearby. The young woman was calling from one of the region’s Darkhavens. Having seen some of her work elsewhere within the vampire community, Claire had been working with her for the past week, privately consulting on the design of a small garden park. “Have you decided about the material for the walkways,
Frau Roth? I believe initially you’d mentioned cobblestones or crushed rock—”

 

“Would it be possible to keep the paths natural instead?” she asked as she moved along the side of the table, perusing the rest of the scale model. “I’m thinking soft earthen walkways trimmed with something simple yet inviting. Forget-me-nots, perhaps?”

 

“Of course. That sounds lovely.”

 

“Good,” Claire said, smiling as she considered the change. “Thank you, Martina. You’ve done a wonderful job. Really, I couldn’t be more pleased with how you’ve taken my jumble of rough ideas and turned them into something so much more than I imagined.”

 

The young Breedmate’s voice brightened on the other end of the line. “The park is going to be beautiful, Frau Roth. It’s obvious how much time and care you’ve put into your vision of what you’d like it to be.”

 

Claire quietly registered the compliment, feeling less pride than relief. She wanted this slice of empty land to be turned into something beautiful. She wanted it to be perfect. Every planting, every carefully placed sculpture, bench, and strolling path was intended to be a place of total peace and tranquillity. A sanctuary meant to inspire the mind, heart, and soul. She wasn’t one to pick up the torch for a cause—well, not in a very long time, at any rate—but she had to admit this project had become something close to an obsession for her.

 

“I just need it to be right,” she murmured, blinking past a sudden misting of her eyes. She’d been overly emotional lately, and was grateful that there was no one in the library to see her weakness.

 

“Don’t worry,” Martina’s cheerful voice soothed. “I’m certain he’s going to love it.”

 

Claire swallowed, caught off guard. “W-what?”

 

“Herr Roth,” the young Breedmate replied. An awkward silence stretched out for long moments. “I, um … I’m sorry if I’m prying. You’d asked me to keep the park and its design a secret, so I suppose I assumed that you meant it to be a gift for him.”

 

A gift for Wilhelm? Claire had to work to contain her bemused reaction to the idea. She hadn’t even seen her mate for half a year. He came to the country only because his blood compelled him to. Claire had grown to dread those visits, expected as his mate to feed him from her veins and to take his blood in exchange. Wilhelm hardly pretended to feel differently about their coolly obligatory arrangement. They had discreetly lived apart nearly all of the three decades of their pairing—he in his Darkhaven mansion in the city, she and a handful of security staff here in the country manor a couple of hours away.

 

No, the garden park was not a gift for her chronically absent mate. In fact, she was sure he’d be furious if he found out that she’d undertaken the project on her own. Fortunately for her, Wilhelm Roth hadn’t taken an interest in anything she thought or felt or did for quite some time now. He was more than content to leave her to pursue her assorted philanthropic and social activities; his business with the Enforcement Agency was all that mattered to him, particularly of late. That was his obsession, and in a quiet corner of her heart, Claire was glad for her solitude. Especially these past difficult weeks.

 

Martina let out a small sigh over the speaker. “Please, Frau Roth… forgive me if I’ve overstepped my bounds in any way.”

 

“Not at all,” Claire assured her. Before she had to offer
Martina either a pleasant lie about her motivations for the park’s construction or explain her estrangement from the Breed male she saw infrequently at best, a hard rap sounded on the library door. “My thanks again for the lovely design, Martina. Let me know if you have any other questions before we proceed with the project.”

 

“Of course. Good night, Frau Roth.”

 

Claire ended the call, then stepped out of the room. She closed the door behind her, still feeling protective of her secret undertaking and seeing no reason to invite questions from Wilhelm’s loyal hounds. But now that she was standing alone with one of the half-dozen Enforcement Agents assigned to look out for her and the property she occupied, she realized that her little side project was the least of the security detail’s concern. The guard seemed agitated, uncharacteristically twitchy.

 

“Yes. What is it?”

 

“I need you to come with me, Frau Roth.”

 

“What for?” She could see now that the big male was visibly rattled. Considering he was Breed, in addition to being armed to his fangs with firearms and combat gear, rattling someone like him was no small thing. Something was terribly wrong.

 

The comm device clipped to his black bulletproof vest was crackling with intermittent static and snippets of urgent conversation among the other agents posted at the country house. “We’re evacuating the premises immediately. This way, if you would.”

 

“Evacuating? Why? What’s going on?”

 

“I’m afraid there is no time to waste.” More static sounded over his comm. More voices issuing clipped orders in the background. “We’re readying a vehicle for you now. Please. You must come with me.”

 

He started to reach for her arm, but Claire stepped out of his range. “I don’t understand. Why do I have to leave? I demand that you tell me what’s going on.”

 

“We had a situation at the Darkhaven in Hamburg a short while ago—”

 

“A situation?”

 

The guard didn’t elaborate, simply spoke right over her. “As a precaution, we’re clearing out of here and taking you to another location. A safe house in Mecklenburg.”

 

“Wait a minute—I have no idea what you’re talking about. What situation in Hamburg? Why do I need to be moved to a safe house? What exactly does any of this mean?”

 

The guard gave her an impatient look as he barked his position into his comm device. “Yes, I’m with her now. Bring the vehicles around to the front and prepare to roll out. We’re on the way to meet you.”

 

He made another grab for her and Claire’s patience snapped. “Goddamn it, talk to me! What the hell is going on? And where is Wilhelm? Get him on the phone. I want to talk to him before I let you haul me out of my own home with hardly an explanation.”

 

“Director Roth has been out of the country since July,” the agent told her, his schooled expression seeming to suggest that he didn’t notice her embarrassment over the fact that a basic security detail could know more about her mate’s whereabouts than she did. He cleared his throat. “We’re attempting to contact the director now to brief him on the attack—”

 

“Attack,” Claire replied, awkwardness forgotten as her skin went cold and tight. “Good lord. Was someone attacked at the Darkhaven? Has someone been injured?”