Broken Heart 09 Only Lycans Need Apply (12 page)

“What did she see?” asked Grandfather. His voice was rough, but in a comfortable way, like leather worn soft by time.

“Everything. I’m sorry, my old friend. Even if I had gotten here in time . . .” The man spoke in a way that reminded me of music. Now I recognized that it was an Irish accent.

“You couldn’t have saved Regina. I know that. She could not receive your gifts. And she would not have wanted them.”

“Moira is the last,” said the man, “and the only one left who can unlock what her ancestors’ blood bound all those years ago.”

“It seems a terrible burden for a child. She will not have an easy path, Ruadan. How can you expect her to keep such a promise when she cannot know what she is?”

“You know the Vedere pyschics are rarely wrong.” He paused. “‘When only one remains, then she shall restore to the vampires those who have been lost to time.’”

“I know the prophecy, damn it. It’s been the burden carried by Camille’s family for three millennia. Damn it, Ruadan. I’ve lost my wife. My daughter,” said Grandfather. “Please. I don’t want to lose my granddaughter, too.”

“Her fate belongs to her, and to her alone.”

“Please, Ruadan.”

The man named Ruadan sighed. “Glamour is not a permanent solution. Time can unravel even the tightest of memory knots, especially among parakind.”

“Maybe if we hadn’t hidden the truth from our daughter . . . maybe she would have . . .” My grandfather trailed off. “I’ll do a better job of protecting Moira. I’ll train her, Ruadan. I’ll help her as much as I can, and when the time arrives, she will no doubt fulfill what the Fates have in store for her. But until then, I want her to be as normal as possible. You can give us that at least.”

Silence filled the room, and my heart beat so loud I could hear it drumming in my ears. What was wrong with me? What was fate . . . and why did I have to have it?

“Very well, Ezra,” said Ruadan. “I will do as you ask.”

•   •   •

The memory snapped shut, and I jerked back, as though it had somehow tried to bite me.

What the hell was that all about?

Had being in the same building where my mother had been killed somehow unlocked a memory from my childhood?

I really did not want any more treats from that part of my life.

And all the wailing wasn’t exactly helping my frame of mind, either. Hel-
lo
. Crazy woman here. No one wanted to set me off.

“Didn’t you say we needed to get out of here?” I called out to Karn. He’d migrated toward the middle of the room, while his friends had gone left and right. They were shadows moving beyond the green glow of the light.

The wails ebbed and flowed like an ocean of pain. I wasn’t even sure that Karn had heard my desperate query. I much preferred being carted out of the building by vampires than seeing Mom’s ghostly form. Or remembering one sliver more about my five-year-old self.

Close your eyes!

The command came from inside my head, and it wasn’t exactly choice-driven. I closed my eyes only because my eyelids insisted on it.

The shrieks ceased.

I heard Mr. English Vampire say, “What the fuck is—”

I heard a pop . . . boom . . . and then felt a quick flash of intense heat.

The vampires screeched.

I heard Karn yell, “No! Damn you!”

The silence stretched on and on. Finally, I said, “Dove?”

“Yeah?”

“Are your eyes closed?”

“Hell, yes.”

“Well, do you want to open them?”

“Sure. Because I like the idea of burning out my corneas.”

“The light bomb only lasts for a few seconds, but it does the job,” said a male voice with a German accent. “And
ja
, it is okay for you to open your eyes.”

Dove and I both screamed. I had to admit, she was better at it. I opened my eyes, ready to . . . well, scream some more.

A man stood in the space between Dove and me, and he filled it out nicely, too. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and muscled . . . oh, so muscled. His silky black hair was drawn into a leather strap. He wore a long-sleeved black T-shirt tucked into a pair of denims that looked painted on. He had on black cowboy boots, too. He had the kind of looks you found in TV commercials touting designer cologne. Chiseled jaw. High cheekbones. Cleft chin. A mouth that demanded nibbling. But it was his eyes that drew me the most . . . a beautiful jade green. I’d never seen eyes that color before.

“What the hell are you?” asked Dove crankily.

I noticed that she asked
what
instead of
who
. When he turned to look at Dove, the length of his ponytail was revealed. That gorgeous hair hit him right above a very fine ass.

“My name is Drake,” he said, not addressing that whole question of
what
. He turned back to me. “I’m afraid you and your lovely assistant will be in our care until Karn has been caught.”

“Caught?” sputtered Dove. “Aren’t light bombs supposed to kill vampires?”

“Unless they escape,” he said. “Unfortunately, Karn excels at saving his own hide.”

“Awesome,” I said. “Let’s go back to the part where you said we would be in your care. What does that mean, exactly?”

“We will take you to a safe location and protect you from Karn.” He offered a killer smile. “I represent the Consortium. It’s an organization that protects certain types of artifacts and information.”

“Gawd. Why do I feel like we’re stuck in a
Men in Black
movie?” asked Dove. She sighed dramatically. “Do you plan to leave us gift-wrapped so you can transport us to your serial killer van?”

Drake blinked. “Of course I will release you from your bonds. So long as you understand that coming with us is non-negotiable. We must insist on offering our protection.”

“What kind of artifacts?” I asked because I couldn’t help myself.

“Really, Moira?
Really?
That’s the important issue here?” Dove’s voice cut through my curiosity and reminded me that maybe that whole artifact question could wait.

Drake offered a grin, and I nearly melted right out of my bonds. Cute or not, it had been a helluva night, and I wasn’t riding off into the dark with this guy because he was mind-numbingly handsome. Or because he supposedly had access to artifacts. I mean, what we were talking about here? “Where are the artifacts from? How old are they? Do you have items from Egypt?”

“Moira!”

I flinched at Dove’s outraged tone.

“You’ll forgive us for being cynical, given that we were just kidnapped, punched, and terrorized,” she said. “But we need credentials. References.”

“Yeah,” I said. My jaw throbbed. “And maybe an ice pack.”

“I have something better,” he offered.

“No,” said Dove. “We’re not in
Men in Black
. We’re in
Terminator
.”

“What’s taking so long?” A beautiful blonde dressed in a blue frock that highlighted her pregnant belly marched into our circle. She eyed us. “Why are they still tied up?”

“I was hoping to gain their cooperation before releasing their bonds.”

“Oh, for shit’s sake! My name is Patsy. I’m . . . uh . . . well, screw it. I’m the vampire queen. I’m seven months pregnant, in a really bad mood, and mad as hell that Karn got away again. I want some ice cream, to put my feet up, and to watch
Desperate Housewives
. I will glamour you if I have to. I don’t want to, though, because it makes me dizzy.” She put her hands on her very round belly. “Everything makes me fucking dizzy.”

Not even Dove had a response for the woman. She just stared at the blonde openmouthed with something like respect gleaming in her brown eyes. It took a lot to impress Dove, and a whole lot more to earn even a smidgen of her respect.

“Aren’t vampires dead?” I asked. Obviously,
that
was the most important question. It was nice to know I knew how to order conversational priorities. Usually I was more organized.

“True,” said Dove. “That should nullify the ability to breed, right?” She huffed out a breath. “Now you’ve got me doing it, too.”

“I’m a different sort of vampire,” the blonde said. “Also, I’m Preg.
Nant.
You might want to keep that in mind.”

“You really do,” said Drake. He shuddered, and then winked.

Something poked at my memories. Something . . . well, I didn’t know. It was similar to the feeling of going to the grocery store without a list and trying to remember what I was supposed to buy. Was it strange that Drake’s wink was somehow familiar?

Patsy punched him in the arm. “Shut up.” She looked at me. “Karn wants you for the same reason that we do.”

“Which is what?” I asked.

“I’m losing circulation in my arms,” interjected Dove. “In case anyone cares.”

Actually, I was getting the tingles in my arms, too. I bet I looked like a hit-and-run victim. Dove didn’t look any better, either.

Patsy waddled toward Dove. Drake leaned over my chair to untie the ropes around my wrists, which he did by breaking them with his bare hands. Wow. Also, he smelled really, really good.

And his hair was damp, as though he’d just taken a shower.

“You are a what, aren’t you?” I asked when he straightened.

“I’m a werewolf,” he said. He crouched next to me, took my arms and rubbed gently, probably trying to get the circulation going again while offering comfort. But his touch was far from comforting . . . it was electrifying.

“You are a remarkable woman, Dr. Jameson.” His thumbs brushed the crooks of my arms, and I huffed out a little breath of shock. Who knew the bends of my arms were such sensitive spots? He offered me a smoky smile, one that sent my stomach into a mambo dance. “I look forward to knowing you better.”

“I haven’t agreed to accept your protection,” I said, even though they’d made it clear that Dove and I didn’t have a choice. But I could bluster if I wanted to, damn it.

Drake’s grin only widened. He rose and offered his hand. I took it and managed to get to my feet without tipping over. He held my hand until I felt steady enough—and then he held it a moment longer, his fingers squeezing mine right before he let go.

“Well, you might agree to that, and more, when you hear this,” said Patsy. She paused as Dove tiptoed up next to her. We all looked at her red calf-length lace-up ballet boots. In order to wear them, you had to walk on your toes.

“Those are some fucked-up shoes,” said Patsy. “Are you trying to cripple yourself?”

“Yes,” said Dove deadpan. “That’s my plan exactly.”

Patsy snorted. Then she turned toward me again. “You found a crypt in the desert recently. Empty, but maybe some strange stuff on the walls?”

“And we found vampire
ushabtis
,” said Dove.

Patsy stared at her blankly.

“Little bitty statues,” said Dove.

“Oh.”

“So?” Hey, why not cooperate? I was crazy, dreaming, or had fallen down a rabbit hole. Vampires. Werewolves. Mermaids. Ghosts. I was trapped in a world that shouldn’t exist.

“It’s not exactly what happened, but we have to wait for Eva to undo her work. Only the vampire who glamoured you can . . . er, un-glamour you.

“You glamoured us?” accused Dove. “When?”

“Last week,” said Patsy distractedly. “Drake said you stuck your hand in some kind of lock in the door?”

“I did what?” I asked.

“Oh, right. The glamour thing. Shit.” She tapped her lip, pondering me. “Your blood opened it. And we’ve been in touch with various sources, including the Vedere psychics. They do
not
know how to give a straight answer. Anyway, we think you’re the chosen. And you’ll open the pyramid when it reappears tomorrow.”

“What?” I asked blankly.

Patsy shared a look with Drake, then turned her gaze to me. “You’re the key to opening a magical pyramid,” she said. “And saving the vampire race.”

“A
re you high?” asked Dove suspiciously. She squinted at Patsy. “Because that’s cray-cray.”

“What the fuck is cray-cray?” asked Patsy. She returned Dove’s narrow-eyed look. “Are
you
high?”

“Patsy.”

The tone indicated exasperation of a spousal nature. A man as tall and broad and gorgeous as Drake entered our conversational circle. He was the opposite of Drake in coloring, though, his hair just as long, but moon white and worn loose.

“If you give me the wait-where-it’s-safe speech, I will hurt you,” she said.

“Why would I do that?” He leaned down and kissed her head, then drew her into his embrace. “No sign of Karn. However, his friends did not survive our light bomb.”

“Those two assholes are dust?” asked Dove.

The man’s golden gaze dropped down to Dove, and he studied her shoes for a moment before looking at her. “Yes.”

“Good. They were jerks.”

“Unfortunately, they are two of many jerks that Karn has enlisted to his cause,” said the man. “You are Dove. And you”—he turned to me—“are Dr. Moira Jameson.”

“Believe it or not, I know who I am,” I said. “It’s the only thing I do know right now.”

“Being introduced to parakind can be disconcerting,” he offered. “I am Patsy’s husband, Gabriel.”