Obfuscate (3 page)

W
e beached
the skiff up on the shore, where Tony Briggs dug his toes into the wet sand. Dragon Mafia hit man and one of the senior programmers for my online role play game, Briggs lifted the wet clumps of sand and dripped them onto the sandcastle turrets he must have built while waiting for us to arrive. Complete with a four-foot-tall dragon guarding the moat, the castle was over ten feet long.

A French, gargouille water dragon, Briggs had the same human muscular build as his paranormal form. Standing over six feet tall, black, both a lover and a fighter, he simply exuded sex. His shaved head and brilliant white teeth showed off his full mouth when he spoke. His voice always reminded me of the singer, Barry White, deep and intoxicating. No wonder my sister Dakota was fool crazy over him.

To add to the overall quagmire of the Dakota love triangle, Tony was madly, deeply in love with my sister and hated Ludovic with every dragon scale of his body. Briggs wasn’t taking any chances on losing our sole connection to his true love. Several attempts on Ludovic’s life by the vampire queen self-employed Briggs as the Romanian’s personal bodyguard and constant companion.

In many ways, I think Briggs missed his calling. Besides putting the squeeze on the paranormal watch in New Orleans, the one oddball thing that stood out was his love for cooking. You wouldn’t think such a burly man would care for such a thing, but he held a passion for food. Daily, Briggs goaded Ludovic by reciting scrumptious French gourmet recipes, with Ludovic served as the main course. When we landed on the beach, Briggs was mid-sentence in his thick French accent in what sounded like a tasty marinade.

“
Oui?
Doesn’t dzat sound
délicieux
?” Briggs flashed his million-dollar canines at Ludovic and then turned to pull the boat further up onto the beach. The skiff rocked back and forth until it had a firm footing in the sand.

Briggs hollered back over his shoulder to Ludovic in his best Julia Child’s impersonation, “How ’bout I use a dzick slab o’ organic grass-fed butter with
fleur de sel
and a heavy shake of
herbes de provence.
Dzen I'll simmer shallots and tarragon in a red wine vinegar with a splash of sherry while I braise your tough ole hide in dzhe slow cooker.
Oui?
”

“Sounds bloody delish. When’s dinner?” Khaldon asked.

“Tonight, just after midnight.” Briggs grinned devilishly at Ludovic seemingly to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

Ludovic rolled his eyes obviously bored with hearing yet another recipe, but still squirmed against his bonds.

Always a gentleman, Briggs offered a hand to help me out of the boat. I managed to step off into the sand without slipping on the wet seat.

Even though I didn’t care for Ludovic because he’d sold us down the river, I was able to empathize with him. I stiffened, looked away, and shook my head while Briggs continued to recite human recipes, knowing in an hour, we too, would face cannibals on North Sentinel.

Do the Rakshasa brew up marinade recipes too?

I covered my eyes with my hand and gazed up and down the beach. “Hey, where’re Harris and Torchy?” I grabbed my rucksack out of the boat and threw it over my shoulder.

“Not to worry, Chey Chey. Dzey’ll be along soon.” Briggs unloaded the diving spear gun with extra arrows and set them beside the rest of the supplies we had prepared.

“They’re not here? Seriously?” I kicked a broken shell away from my foot, shooting white sand into the air. “How could Harris do this?”

“They’ll be here. I’m sure there’s a good reason.” Khaldon squeezed my shoulders. “We can’t leave without them, so let’s just take inventory of what we have and go through the checklist and timeline again.”

Harris was my best friend, the brother I never had, and the best networking programmer I ever had the courtesy of working with. But he had a chronic issue of always running on the Harris Archer time zone. Despite being chronologically challenged, he also had this curious little habit of turning into a werewolf. A small detail he neglected to share with me while we were college roommates. For three years.

It wasn’t until he outed me as a vampire last November that I learned who he really was. All his cyberchrondriac maladies, every full moon, clicked into place, and I understood the drive behind his enormous carnivorous appetite.

I heaved my shoulders round in circles trying to massage out knots of stress. “Dammit, I told Harris not to be late.” I cursed under my breath.

“I’m sure it won’t be long. We still have time before we’re scheduled to leave.” Khaldon pressed his talented fingers deep into my neck muscles, rubbing out the tension. Immediately, the pain eased with the touch of his hands as I willed the tightness to dissipate.

“Werewolves are always late, but I’m sure ’arris has a good reason,” Briggs rolled his words in his French dialect. “
Oui
, let’s just ’ope dzeir tardiness isn’t an omen of how tonight will end.” He laughed in an evil
muah hah hah
way, which did not help to unravel my anxiety.

My muscles tensed again, spiking a shard of pain behind my lids.

Briggs lit up a cigar, his smoky brimstone intermingled with the sensual scent of warm vanilla in his tobacco. The puff of white clouds contrasted against his chocolatey skin almost concealing him against the white sands.

From a palm tree off to the side where Briggs had tied him, Ludovic chimed in with his husky Romanian accent. “My comrades, I wouldn’t underestimate the Rakshasa. If the Lycan is bringing more intel, it’s worth the wait. We know nothing about them.” Ludovic’s tone added a sneer to his words, making me question if he was trying to be helpful or if he was just trying my nerves instead.

“
Maestru
Briggs, what would I need to endure to have a few puffs of that
trabuc
?” A fly landed on Ludovic’s nose and he attempted to swipe it away, but with both hands tied to different trees, he had to blow at the bug instead.

Briggs walked over to Ludovic with the cigar. He exhaled a stream of smoke from his mouth and inhaled a dual stream into his nostrils before blowing a forceful plume into Ludovic’s face. The fly buzzed away. I couldn’t tell who enjoyed the gesture more—Briggs blowing smoke, or Ludovic free from the bug. It was an odd relationship.

No matter how drop-dead gorgeous Ludovic was, he was a walking cliché of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. As her vampyric maker, Ludovic was the only one who could mind-message with Dakota. It frustrated the hell out of me because I never knew if he was being truthful with us. Hatred for this man burned through every fiber of my being, but our plan couldn’t work without him.

After spending months of time with Ludovic underfoot and even helping to rescue him from Amicula, I had come to understand why Dakota had been attracted to him when they dated. He had bad boy written all over him. His eyes were dark and mysterious, his untamed hair black and short-cropped. His winning smile held a voice that could melt butter with the way he romantically rolled words off his tongue. It was becoming clear the types of male attributes Dakota liked. She had a thing for languages and teeth.

Had it been any other night and under different circumstances, I would have set up my camera and tripod to marvel and shoot the beauty of the sunset, but tonight the twilight colors across the sky became the sands of an hourglass condemning me to my fate.

I heaved another heavy sigh and escaped the testosterone-ladened insults from Briggs by taking a small jog down the beach.

I needed to be alone. To breathe.

To think.

I took off my combat boots and rolled my fatigues up to cuff them up at the knees. I strolled far enough away to talk out loud to myself. “This is crazy.” I paced back and forth along the water while my toes sank into the pristine white sands. My calves already ached from the unused muscles pushing into the next step. White and blue crabs, carrying their left claws the size and weight of their scampering little bodies, scurried under fallen palm fronds and wet driftwood.

Outwardly demanding the Gods’ attention, I threw my arms up in the air. “Are we insane for doing this by ourselves? Do we need a legion of vampires, werewolves, and dragons to help us?”

I picked up a broken, barnacle-encrusted seashell and skipped it out into the waves. “I’m not sure we’re qualified for this mission.” My voice trailed off and I hung my head with resolve. “Or, at least, I’m not qualified.”

I kicked a weather-worn coconut husk. “I shouldn’t go. I’ve got no feckin’ idea in hell what I’m doing. I’ve never fired a gun. What if I accidentally hurt someone?”

I skipped a shell out over the waves.

Two skips.

My conscience got the best of me. The little angel who sat on my right shoulder tried to talk some sense into me. “What are you thinking? You could totally compromise the mission and put their lives in danger. This is not a place for you. You need to call this mission off or find someone better to replace you.”

Throwing it harder, I shot another shell out over the water. Stepping into the water, I embraced the warm waves crashing around my ankles.

Four skips.

The little red demon who lived on my left shoulder and loved to stir up shite just couldn’t keep the guilt away. “Yeah, but would you ever forgive yourself if they died and you didn’t do anything to help them other than weasel out? Do you really want to be known as the wimpy vampire who stood by and did nothing to save your family and friends?”

Khaldon had walked up behind me and picked up another shell from the sand. “Cheyenne, we’re dealing with primitive natives.” He joined my game of attempting the most skips over the water.

Eight skips. Damn.

The sun added fiery red to the orange-hued clouds setting over the horizon silhouetting him once again. His sculpted build cut a deep V into his abs peeking out above his fatigues. “Once we swim to shore, we’ll navigate to the volcanic caves, we’ll rescue Dakota, and fly away on the dragons. Easy-peasy.” His voice was confident, self-assuring, as if this were just another day in the life of a vampire. “She’ll be safe, and you’ll never have to set foot on that island again. I promise.”

“Get in, kill a couple of bad guys, rescue the damsel in distress, and be done with it, huh?” I swished my hands together, wiping off the wet sand. “You make it all sound like a Sunday picnic.”

Khaldon rested his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in tight. He tilted his head in toward me and whispered into my ear. “Maybe we’ll get a chance to snack on a couple of Rakshasa ourselves. Wouldn’t that be grand?”

An answer escaped me. I wasn’t sure what to think about his suggestion. Could I feed off another person without killing them? Could I trust myself? If I let go, would I become like that horrible bloody beast, the Red Man, who attacked me Halloween night?

I can’t lose control like that. Ever.

Avoiding his question, I lay my head on his chest. For the few micro-moments when he held me, all my fears disappeared. He stroked my hair, trying to tame the wind-blown strands, and then held me at arm’s length. As though he were capturing my image and hoarding it away into his soul, Khaldon’s devilishly defiant, verdant eyes traced every line of my face.

I returned the heartfelt exchange and cupped my hand against his cheek, searching for additional strength to channel and absorb. His black silken pharaoh-like strands spread across my hand as the winds stirred in the ocean breeze. My thumb caressed the sharp line of his jaw and pulled down his lower lip, revealing his intense grin. I tucked his thick locks behind his ear and leaned in close, wrapping my arms tight around his torso. He returned the gesture. I closed my baby blues once again and listened to his steady heartbeat as though nothing in the world could alter the rhythm.

We slowly walked back toward the boat, and I eased into the welcomed embrace under Khaldon’s arm. Arriving back at camp, we watched as Briggs held the cigar out for Ludovic and stole it away as soon as the tobacco got close enough to his mouth.

I shook my head again … boys.

I stepped up to the pile of guns and tools next to the sandcastle and picked up a firearm. Not really sure of what I was looking at, I picked up a sizable pistol. “Okay, gents. I need some help. Who wants to show me how to shoot this thing? I’m not going in there without knowing I can handle the gun and not kill you at the same time.”

Khaldon, Briggs, and Ludovic stared at each other, exchanging volumes of conversation with their eyes without ever saying a word.