The Slayer (16 page)

Read The Slayer Online

Authors: Theresa Meyers

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Historical, #Fantasy, #Romance, #Paranormal

BOOK: The Slayer
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CRRRACK! BOOOM!
The lights flickered momentarily, accompanied by the hissing of the pelting rain against the fabric sides of the airship. The ship swerved, the lightning switching from directly ahead of them to off the port bow. But through the windows of the observation deck Winn saw they were headed toward an even larger mountain range.
“We should be out of the storm soon. We'll simply travel north a little farther and make a short stop at Castle Barranoch for weapons and reinforcements. The skies over the Alps between Bavaria and the western edge of the Austrian Empire can be unpredictable.”
Her voice caused an arc of awareness to skate over his skin. Damn, she moved quiet-like. “You ever consider that maybe airships ain't the best way to get around?” He never forgot they were floating a mile above the earth with nothing but air to cushion them if the damned airship should fall. Winn looked forward to once again being on terra firma. Marley might trust things he couldn't see or understand, like physics and electrical forces, but Winn liked the tangible.
The Darkin that troubled him most were the ones who could vanish and reappear or were sometimes invisible altogether. If he could see it, he could at least shoot at it. If it was insubstantial and indefinable like the tension swirling between him and the contessa, he had very little chance of getting it under control.
“Airships are perfectly safe as long as you don't catch them on fire,” she said firmly, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself than him.
He wasn't buying it. “Uh huh. Yeah, tell that to the lightning storm after it turns this thing into a flaming lantern.”
The slash of rain against the windows lessened. “You don't care for complications, do you?” She gazed at him, her eyes assessing, as if she were trying to figure him out.
Winn let out a mirthless chuckle. “Name me one man who does.”
Her mouth curled into a kissable pout. Winn resisted. “Complications,” she told him mildly, “are simply part of life.”
“Not for everybody, Tessa. Some folks live simple. They breathe in. They breathe out. They till the soil and watch their crops and children grow. Then they get old—”
“And they die,” she finished for him. “But we each have our role to play, and that is not your role; surely you know this.”
“What makes you so all-fired sure we're even the Chosen?”
“Kostick—”
“Screw Kostick. If all you're holding onto is something one old vampire spouted off a couple centuries ago, there's reams of that in practically every history book. So what else have you got?”
 
 
Alexa massaged her chest, right over her stone-cold heart. It no longer beat in the traditional sense, but it still served as a touchstone to her deepest feelings. “Haven't you ever been sure of something, down to your toes?”
Winchester's mouth flattened. “Yeah. Sure of mistakes I've made that I don't intend to repeat.”
“I meant, a—How do you say it inelegantly in America? A gut feeling?”
“All the time. It's part of being a Hunter.”
“Well, it's part of being a vampire as well.”
He stared hard at her, the intensity of his gaze stripping away her ability to think clearly. She needed him to trust her if they were to outwit the werewolves, rather than always feeling she needed to look over her shoulder to see if he held the Amanarath pointed at her.
Unable to bear the directness of his gaze when she couldn't read his mind, she looked out the large windows. Outside the ship the storm clouds broke, their angry gray masses giving way to lighter, whiter clouds. Day was giving way to twilight, lining the clouds in a hazy, golden glow.
“From the moment I saw you from the steam stage, I knew there was something different about you.” She caught his gaze to see if he truly understood all she meant.
He gave her a lazy, disarming grin. “Is that so?”
“Do you think I would have just asked anyone about the Chosen?”
He pulled at the end of his mustache and stepped closer, into her personal space. His body nearly brushing hers caused a shiver to ripple through her. “I suppose not.”
Alexa wove her hands together. “You are destined for great things, Winchester Jackson, whether you wish it or not.”
He narrowed his eyes and indicated her with his chin. “What about you?”
With her finger she twisted the large ruby ring on her right hand, all too aware of what it signified. She had no business being so attracted to him. None whatsoever. It was time, past time, to tell him the truth.
She lifted her chin and met his blue gaze directly. “I am Vlad's future queen.”
He frowned, his massive shoulders hunching, his eyes turning stormy and dark. “You could have mentioned that sooner.” Irritation laced his tone. “Congratulations.”
She twisted the ring around her finger. “It is a purely political match.”
He glanced at her, one brow raised. “I thought you said he was your cousin.”
“He is.”
“Well,
that
ain't right.”
She shrugged. “Within the nobility of vampiric society it does not matter, not when we live for so many centuries. The only thing considered important is to keep the noble family lines pure. Vlad only offered for my hand because he believes it will cement his position as emperor in these uncertain times. Count Drossenburg was second in line for the throne.”
Winn grunted. “So when are you going to get married?”
“A date has not been set.” Alexa wasn't even sure if she wanted to be queen. For several centuries she'd had the time to contemplate what she really wanted after the count's passing, and while she had been born into nobility, she couldn't escape the gut-deep certainty that she was meant for something different.
The first day she'd glimpsed the vast interior of the American continent had been the first time she'd felt lighter in ages, as if an invisible burden had been suddenly lifted, if only for a brief moment. Every moment she spent with Winchester was like a sip of fresh air to a suffocating woman. She dropped her head and studied the ring. The deep red of the ruby was bracketed by ornate silver bat wings, their points serving as the prongs on the stone.
He ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back. “Sounds like you aren't exactly sure.”
She gave him a knowing gaze from beneath her lashes. “Let us say I've found reasons to reconsider Vlad's offer.”
Winchester's face slackened, his pupils dilating, as he lightly grasped her arms. “Sounds like a foolish decision to me.” The strain in his voice spoke of a man with a careful leash on his control.
She closed the gap between them and laid her palms upon his broad chest. Even through his clothing she could feel the flex of his muscles and the hard, throbbing beat of his heart. “Completely reckless,” she whispered.
He leaned down, putting their mouths close enough that she could nearly taste him on her lips. “I don't do reckless, Tessa.”
“You could have fooled me.”
The clearing of a throat caused her to stiffen immediately and pull away from his hold. “How long have you been here, Enric?” she demanded, not turning.
“I only just arrived, my lady,” he lied easily.
Alex turned to face him, her eyes narrowing.
Don't bother lying to me.
My loyalty is first to the house of Drossenburg. I shall not say a word to His Imperial Majesty.
There is nothing to report.
As you say, my lady.
He inclined his head. “The captain has asked to see you, my lady. Our change in direction means we shall have to take another route to reach Brittany.”
“Very well.” She gave a last longing look at the Hunter.
 
 
Winchester muttered under his breath and headed out the double doors, Enric on his heels. Winn gripped the rail in his hands and stared out into the roiling storm clouds as twilight fell. It was that time between night and day, that moment when it was neither. Was he a Hunter and a solid, dependable man, or was he not? He ought to know better. He ought to
be
better. She was an engaged woman. Vampire—he corrected himself. A royal vampire at that.
Enric looked at him inquisitively. “Just what are your intentions toward the contessa?”
“My intention is to find that missing part of the Book and keep our heads on our shoulders in the process,” he said between gritted teeth.
“Don't be daft. You know she is attracted to you.”
Winn glared at Enric and his glib mouth. “Don't matter. You know as well as I do she ain't available. 'Sides, Hunters and vampires don't mix like that.”
Enric shrugged and joined him at the rail. “I wouldn't say that. Sometimes it happens. Michael used to be a Hunter. Often Hunters facing the certainty of death realize they have another option and become children by gift.”
Winn frowned, his lips pressing into a hard line. “Yep, I'm sure it happens. But not to me. And I ain't almost dead, yet.”
Enric sighed. “Being undead isn't so different, you know. We may not have a heartbeat, but we certainly still have feelings.”
Winn grunted and stared down into the thick tangle of forest beneath them, just as impenetrable and dark as his conscience. “Who said Hunters have feelings?” He slipped the flight goggles from around his neck and slid them into place.
Enric straightened. “A few days ago I would have accepted that. But I've seen the way you watch her. You're fighting a losing battle, Mr. Jackson. You just don't know it y—”
A high-pitched wail rent the air, forcing Winn to cover his ears or lose his eardrums. “What the hell is that?”
Enric grabbed hold of Winn's arms and pointed. “Arrows!”
The hundreds of infinitesimally small dots grew larger like a swarm of bees until Winn could see their sharpened tips and shivering shafts flying straight toward the massive balloon right above them. He scanned the woods below trying in vain to see where they'd come from and who the shooters were, but he could see nothing but thick forest.
“They're trying to crash the ship before we can reach Castle Barranoch!” Enric yelled over the noise as the arrows grew closer and their high wailing pitch increased. He leaned backward over the rail of the deck, nearly tipping over and out into the air as he attempted to catch the attention of the crew member on the deck below them. “Incoming! Take evasive action!”
“Who?” Winn said as he gripped the rail so hard his knuckles turned white.
“Werewolves, fae, some kind of Darkin that wants to stop us,” Enric snapped.
The barrage of arrows pierced the balloon, creating a great hissing and flapping sound as the hot air began to escape out of the ruptured fabric.
The ship pitched and began to lose altitude rapidly, causing the pit of Winn's stomach to dip uncomfortably. “We're going to crash, aren't we?” Winn asked as the wind picked up the faster they descended. The moisture from the clouds caused rivulets to form along the dark outer surface of his flight goggles and made his face wet.
“What can I do to help?” Winn yelled over the increasing noise.
“Nothing. Just try to stay alive.”
Knowing he was worthless to the harried crew burned like acid. He was out of his league both here on the ship and in this country, and with the woman who filled his thoughts constantly.
Enric gave him a quick, precise nod. “You better hold on to something, Hunter.” And with that he disappeared in a dark swirl of smoke—like mist that dissipated on the air.
The door behind Winn opened suddenly. “What in the name of the gods are you doing out here?” the contessa barked. “Get inside!”
Winn didn't normally take orders from a vampire, but in this case he thought it was wise to make an exception. He dashed in the open door and snagged her as he went by, pulling her along in his wake.
“Let go of me!” She pried at his fingers, far stronger than he'd anticipated.
He pulled her up against him. “I'm betting the rest of the crew has already vanished off this thing. You aren't leaving me alone on this sinking ship, lady.”
“I had no intention. My job is to accompany you no matter what the obstacles, and I have yet to fail on a mission. I've got a glider ready for us, but we can't wait any longer.”
“Well, why didn't you say so?”
She gave him a sour look, muttering under her breath something terribly unflattering about Hunters.
Winn released her and followed her down the two sets of stairs to the cargo hold. The thick canvas wings that had looked like some odd, giant umbrella when he'd last seen them were now stretched taut and fastened to a small, egg-shaped wooden pod, big enough for one. It sat suspended only a foot or two above the floor of the cargo hold by an enormous hook.

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