Chasing Shadows (A Shadow Chronicles Novel) (23 page)

“Didn’t we already agree that the vampire community finding out about me was inevitable? Hell, that guy at the
theater’s
probably already told all his friends that he ran into a delectable morsel he nearly had a taste of.”

“And now wants to kill,” she added. “Until such time as we can be sure they all understand you are off limits, I’m not taking any chances.”

“Far be it for me to act paranoid, hon,” I said as we finished preparing another meal of bacon, eggs and toast and sat at the table to eat it, “Juliette has a point. There’s also the chance that my father’s flight team are vampires. It really is best to be cautious, especially when it comes to anyone associated with Diarmid Mackenna.”

*****

At twenty past five in the morning, I pulled my Ford Explorer SportTrac to a stop next to the private hanger owned by the Mackenna Corporation, where Diarmid’s biggest extravagance, a Gulfstream G650, was already waiting for us outside, fueled and ready to go. Lochlan came out of the open cabin and hurried down the steps as a hefty-looking fellow I instantly knew to be a shapeshifter emerged from the Jeep I had parked next to, and as Mark, Juliette, and I got out of my truck, they both approached, eyeing each other warily.

Juliette quickly introduced us to Jake Anderson, whose animal form, he informed us with a smile, was the Alaskan
Malamute
. I introduced Lochlan to Jake and started for the plane.

Lochlan grabbed my arm. “Sis, I came out here to warn you,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

“Let me guess, the crew are all vampires?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Actually, no, not for a trans-Atlantic flight, but… Saph, I swear I tried to talk him out of it.”

As he spoke, a figure appeared in the open hatchway of the plane, and I felt my spine stiffen for the second time that morning.

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Diarmid Mackenna, dressed as always in a crisp, custom-tailored—and no doubt outrageously expensive—Italian suit, descended the steps of his plane slowly, his gaze never wavering from the five of us. As he came closer, I was not blind to the widening of his eyes
nor
the flare of his nostrils. Whether he was reacting to the presence of the shapeshifters, Mark’s scent—or both—I could not tell. His expression, as always, was a calculated and unreadable mask.

He stepped directly up to me and placed his hands on my shoulders, kissing first my left cheek and then my right, as if there were not a hundred eighty-four years of discord between us.

“My darling Mida,” he said lightly as he stepped back, his eyes roaming over my companions. “I am so pleased you have consented to undertake this task for me. Will you not introduce me to your friends?”

It took some willpower, but I did not protest his use of the nickname he had given me long ago. His enormous ego had led him to naming me after himself when I was born—my birth name was Diarmida, and he had for the first fifty years of my life addressed me affectionately as Mida. Despite the fact that I had changed my name when I left (after searching for a new name, I found Saphrona on a census listing and adopted my mother’s name, Clare Percy, to go along with it) I could not break him of the habit no matter how hard I tried. In this situation, for the sake of maintaining peace, I left it alone.

I cleared my throat and reached for Mark’s hand. “Diarmid, this is Mark Singleton. We have just recently bonded. This young lady is his sister, Juliette, and her friend, Jake Anderson.”

Diarmid extended a hand to Mark, who shook it firmly. “I am most pleased to meet you, my son,” he said cordially. “It gladdens my heart to know that Mida has found her true love at last—and how fascinating that you should be one of the rarest and most precious of supernatural beings.”

As Mark acknowledged him politely, not even addressing being called “son,” I wondered how he could possibly know just from smelling Mark that he was an immortal human, when Lochlan had not known. Then I recalled the admission my brother had made about our father’s former addiction to
dhunphyr
blood. Of course Diarmid would know just by his scent, if he’d spent a year’s time creating and killing them. I could tell by the slight twitching of the tendons in his neck that my father was either fighting the urge to lean in for a good, long sniff, or the likely stronger urge to lean in and help himself to a taste of Mark. I took a step forward then. “I have recently learned, in the course of my investigation, a disturbing truth about
dhunphyr
.”

Diarmid looked at me.
“Ah, my poor child.
How I hoped you would not learn of such dark tidings as those. I would so like to have spared you,” he said with a sigh. “No doubt you are wondering, because of that which you have so recently learned, whether or not your young lover will exist forever by your side.”

And whether or not your previous addiction will make you want to attack him yourself
, I
thought.

Aloud, I said, “That is true. As my inquiries led me to the rumor that Vivian Drake’s next novel will prominently feature his kind, I am naturally curious as to whether or not Mark is truly immortal. My ability to sense other supernatural creatures tells me he is, but because of that awful truth about
dhunphyr
blood coming to light… Well, you can understand why I have come to question it.”

“So you seek also assurance from this psychic we are going to see, as well as a lead to Ms. Drake’s source?” the elder vampire queried.

I nodded. “Diarmid… Father,” I said, hoping that my use of the title did not sound as if I’d had to force it out, which I had, and that it pleased him enough to do as I asked.

He looked at me with his brows raised.
“Yes, child?”

“You are a very influential man in our world,” I said slowly. “And you have a history with Mark’s kind. You know what danger he is in from our people because of what he is, whether he is truly immortal or not.”

“Indeed,” he agreed with a nod. “I do hope for your sake that no harm ever comes to him.”

“That’s precisely what I am getting at,” I went on and swallowed, hardly believing I was about to do this: I had not had the nerve to ask him myself for the use of his private plane, but I was forcing myself to ask him for something much more valuable—

—protection for Mark.

“I am grateful for the restraint both you and Lochlan have shown in regard to Mark—even I am not immune to the powerful urges his unique scent stirs in us. But others of our kind may not be as understanding of the fact that he and I are bonded.”

He crossed his hands in front of him, and said, “What is it you want of me, Mida?”

I took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I would very much appreciate your putting the word out that he is not to be harmed. I know that you and I are at odds with each other and that because of that I have no right to ask you for anything, but I am hoping there still remains enough love for me that you would take into consideration what effect his death would have on my well being.”

There, I’d done it. Something I had prayed to God I would never have to do: humbling myself (in front of witnesses, no less) before a man I had sworn to loath for all eternity, asking him for his help.

But it was something that had to be done, for I had reluctantly admitted to myself after the theater incident that I was not going to be able to be with Mark every second of every day. It simply wasn’t feasible. And for those times when he was alone in a world populated with beings who would not think twice about killing him, I would do whatever was necessary and in my power to do in order to keep him safe.

Even if in the process of that I had to do a little boot licking. Because this wasn’t just about me, it was about Mark. Vampire law said that bondmates were safe from unjustified killing, but given Mark’s true nature…

As I’d said, there was no guarantee our pair-bond would keep him safe. I was determined to see that he was.

Diarmid studied me for a moment, and then he reached forward and put his hands on my shoulders again. “My daughter, I would have done it even had you not asked it
of me,” he said at last, leaning forward to kiss my brow. “I imagine it is also why this young lady and her companion are here with us today, to see to that very thing. In any case, darling Mida, I will make sure all my associates pass the word that any harm that comes to him will be met with the most severe of consequences.”

My body released some of the tension it had filled with upon seeing my father for the first time in nearly two years. I was glad that he had not denied Juliette or Jake permission to accompany us—or for that matter, that he had not attacked them, or Mark, outright. I begrudgingly gave him credit for his self-control, for I knew he had a deep dislike of shapeshifters, not to mention had once had an addiction to
dhunphyr
blood. That he did neither of the things I had expected him to do said something to me, in that he at least knew when to restrain himself.

I nodded to Diarmid’s words, and then he turned and led us all up and into the plane. The flight attendant, a very attractive human female, raised an eyebrow at Juliette and
I
, regarding us disdainfully, and favored both Jake and Mark with a smile and long, appreciative stares. But a sharp look from Diarmid had her scurrying to close the hatch behind us and report to the pilots that we were all aboard and ready to take off.

Because he sometimes had to fly with a human crew (like today) and often entertained human guests on this plane in his guise as a corporate mogul, the galley was well stocked with food and drink for those of us who consumed regular food. As soon as the tower had cleared
us
and we were in the air the flight attendant offered everyone refreshments, and it was then that I realized we could have waited until we’d boarded to eat, then dismissed the thought with a shrug.
Too late to worry about that now
, I thought. Mark, Juliette, and Jake all asked for orange juice, and as she went to retrieve it, I leaned across the aisle to Lochlan, saying softly, “What if you or Diarmid requires blood on the flight there or the one back? Does he have any on board?”

My father, who sat across from Lochlan adjacent to Mark and I, chuckled and looked over. “My dear Mida… How sweet that you are thinking of us. But you’ve no need to be concerned—Gail is one of my vessels. She will service Lochlan and I should the need arise.”

I tried to stop my distaste for the practice of keeping vessels from showing in my expression, and said as carefully as I could, “Surely she does not have the capacity to serve both of you? Does that not risk injury or death?”

Gail returned and passed out the drinks, then crossed back through the cabin to the forward end of the plane, where the galley and the crew rest area were.

“You may have a point, my dear. I would not want to damage her, and she is not yet ready to be changed,” Diarmid said mildly. I refrained from asking him what he had meant with his last comment.

My father shrugged. “One of us will just have to feed on one of the flight crew.”

I heard Jake choke on his orange juice, and looked over to where he and Juliette sat across from each other at the tiny table. I hoped that however strong his dislike for vampires was, he remembered that he was here for one purpose only, and that was guarding Mark. I also hoped that Diarmid followed through on his promise and made sure our local vampire community understood that Mark was off limits no matter how
tempted they were, so that the need for guards became unnecessary. I knew it could not be easy for the malamute shifter to be here fraternizing with his enemies, nor for Mark to accept the fact that a United States Marine required protection.

With a sigh, I sat back and laid my head on Mark’s shoulder. He raised his arm so that I could nestle underneath it,
then
wrapped it around my shoulders after kissing my brow. We were scheduled to arrive at the Galway Airport in Galway, Ireland in just under seven hours, and although I had had enough of Mark’s blood to keep me awake all day, I found myself drifting in and out of sleep. The bits and pieces of conversation I picked up were mostly from Loch, Diarmid, and Mark—my father was asking him questions about his life, no doubt to discern how he had managed to remain hidden for so long. Mark told him the truth about the night he was born, and Juliette confirmed his story.

As the conversation went on, I learned for the first time what Mark’s military rank was. He was, he said, one of the youngest First Sergeants in his pay grade of E8, as usually an enlisted man had to serve at least fifteen years before he achieved that rank; Mark had done it in eleven. One of his promotions had occurred during an early tour in Iraq when his unit had been ambushed by insurgents, and he’d been field promoted following the death of his platoon leader. When Diarmid had asked him why he had not become an officer, his reply was, “The enlisted man is the backbone of any military organization. I thought it was where I could do the most good.”

Jake, apparently intrigued enough by the conversation to speak up,
then
asked him if he’d ever considered going back. Mark’s answer was much the same as the one he’d given me when I’d asked him why he wanted the job on my farm—that he’d spent enough time as government property and wanted to be his own for a while, though his superiors had said the door was always open for him to return. However, he went on, now that he and I had met and certain mysteries had been explained to him, the chances of that were slim to none, because he had a hard time imagining being away from me for months at a time.