Vampire Assassin League Bundle 4 - Eternity (40 page)

“I’m saying it takes a tiny bit of effort to disable a human. It’s akin to...I don’t know. Probably like waving at a fly.”

“Are you saying I can’t wave at a fly?”

“I’m saying I’m worried.”

Ashley smiled at him, and then flicked a fingertip against his nose. “I can handle it, Lucien. Honest. Whatever happens. Okay?”

“All right.”

He sounded worried. He looked it, too. Ashley was too full of something to notice. It was a combination of all kinds of sensations: Supreme self-confidence. Vigor. Power. Strength. Certainty.

Lucien had been right to be worried. He landed in the spot right in front of the last guard. Grinned down at him. The guy backed into Ashley, and she chopped at the back of his neck. There was a distinct cracking sound before his head fell forward and he dropped. Lucien caught him. Ashley was horrified. Giddiness was replaced instantly with something that made her cold all over. And shivery-feeling. Almost sick.

“Oh, Lucien. No. No. I
killed
him?”

“I’m not sure.” Lucien set the inert body on the ground. Even without checking, his head looked like a disconnected bobble-top doll.

“Please tell me I didn’t kill him.”

“Well. It looks like—wait! Ashley! Come close. Look at this.”

She was on her knees before he finished. The guard was large. He was filmed in sweat, too, even in the fall night weather. He hadn’t worn a jacket and he had his sleeves rolled up. And on his forearm she could plainly see a tattoo not unlike the ones she and Lucien bore...only this one was strange-looking. It took a moment to notice that it was sideways.

“Is he one of us? Oh Lucien. I think I’m going to be ill.”

Lucien shook his head. “Ashley, listen to me. Listen. This is a good kill.”

“A good kill? Yuck. I don’t know if I’m cut out to be an assassin, Lucien.”

“Who said you had to be?”

“I’m in the Vampire Assassin League, aren’t I?”

“There are lots of careers open in the league, Ashley. Nothing says you have to go about killing. Or taking out Hunters...like this guy. You know, I heard something about this. Some tale about how one of our pirates, Santiago, acted after a run-in with Hunters. Rumor was he’d actually let them go, but he marked them first. I didn’t believe it. But you know what? I’m changing my mind. I think we’re in the area where it happened, too.”

“Pirate who? And...did you say Hunters? As in
real
vampire hunters? We have to deal with them, too?”

“Not us, darling. I’m an alchemist. You’re a scientist. We’re in the laboratory most of the time. Others handle assassinations and deal with exterminating Hunters. I can see the foresight in that plan of action. We’re looking at the result of showing leniency.”

“I just killed a man, Lucien. Are you trying to make me feel better? Is that it?”

“Your man was a Hunter, Ashley. If you hadn’t killed him, I would have done it after seeing his tattoo. This is proof. He already had one chance with us. And you’re the result of what he did with it.”

“I’m not following this.”

“How do you think Cranston knew to call us for your hit, Ashley?”

“I don’t know? Him?”

Lucien nodded. “If my theory is correct, you just punished one of those persons involved with your murder plot. There may be more inside. You following me?”

“You’re saying the disabling part is over?” she asked.

Lucien grinned. “I can’t believe how attuned we are. Already. You got it, darling. We meet anyone in that house, they die. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“I’ll handle the executions. You handle diversion. We have a deal?”

“Well...I may want to kill Cranston.”

He tipped his head as if considering it. The hood fell forward, covering this side of his face so she couldn’t tell his expression. It was probably humor. His chuckle sure carried it.

They found two more men in the house. One was sitting in what looked like a security booth, complete with several monitors. Everything was sparking and sputtering with fresh blood before Lucien exited it. Ashley didn’t check after a glance. The other man was in the shadows along a hall. Lucien handled both. Silently. Stealthily. Efficiently. Ashley didn’t watch that kill either. She was psyching herself up for the meeting with her murderer, and wondering why the thought bothered her. Cranston Brinn deserved to die. She deserved vengeance. So, why did she feel unsure?

Revenge sure didn’t feel like it was supposed to. Or she was missing something in her psyche.

“You ready, love?”

Ashley looked up. They’d stopped before two immense double doors, fashioned of what looked like hand-carved wood. That was probably expensive. She’d been focusing on the parquet floor. It was beautifully done. That probably cost another pretty penny. The carpet that ran along the center of the hall was another work of art. It was woven in autumn shades that were set off the mellow light coming from each golden globe along the walls. Everything oozed class. Expense. It should be stirring her ire since it was her money that paid for it. But all of it evaporated the moment she locked gazes with Lucien.

Her heart raced. Her ears hummed. Her eyes went moist. Her voice caught. And a layer of goose bumps covered every bit of skin.

“What?” he asked.

“We don’t have to do this.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“He doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Ashley. He paid for your murder.”

“Exactly.”

“I am not following you.”

He subconsciously used her phrasing. She smiled. “Yes, but...uh. He brought us together. Without him...I never—uh. I wouldn’t have—”

She swallowed. Her voice stopped. This was a lot harder than she’d anticipated. And Lucien wasn’t any help. He went taut. Still. Everywhere.

“I love you, Lucien,” she blurted out.

His smile was blinding, his hug crushing, and his groan heart-grabbing. While his kiss...
Oh my
. If he hadn’t had her wrapped in his arms, she’d have hit the ceiling with bliss. And that’s why neither of them heard the doors opening. Or saw the billiards cue.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Oh...
hell.

He’d forgotten what real pain felt like. Rivers of it lanced through him, chased through every vein, carrying fire-filled agony everywhere. Lucien looked down at the point of a billiards cue sticking from his chest, then across to Ashley’s stricken expression. His knees buckled. And then they gave. He didn’t fall gracefully. It was a dead drop to his knees, cracking them against the wood floor. And he took Ashley with him.

“Perfect shot! Score! Score! I knew I was facing a vampire after the security room alarm went off...but not such a big one! Holy shit! How I wish I had someone here to see this!”

Behind them, somewhere, someone was celebrating, the words jubilant and gay and filled with laughter. He was probably dancing, too. Lucien had a hard time hearing it over the solid thump of music in the room, while a foggy haze began permeating everything. Dull. Gray. It filled the edges of his vision and started moving in. Lucien shook his head to clear it. Blinked. Neither worked.

“Ashley?”

The name was garbled. It matched the lurch his body made. It also came with a spurt of blood. Her eyes went wide as she moved her gaze to his, and then they changed. The greenish shade he loved got overridden by black. Solid, hard, unrelenting black. And that’s when he discovered the real truth in this world – heartache was more painful than anything in the physical realm. Exponentially more.

“I...love you.”

More blood skimmed his lips with the words. She responded with a shimmy of movement, within his arms. Oh. This hurt. Love was a wonder without description. Immeasurable bliss. Paradise. And he’d just found it. Losing it was hell. Knowing he damned her to an eternity without it made everything so much worse.

Her jaw set next and a snarl issued from her mouth. Her fingers skimmed his abs. Lower belly. They followed the ridge of his belt...and then she pulled the dagger tucked in his belt at his hips. And before he could stop her, she was on her feet.

No. She was attacking? No. No. She wasn’t ready. She couldn’t even control her moves, yet. Lucien sucked in a breath, tightened every muscle at his control, and forced his limbs to support him. And something worked. He regained his feet, although the doorjamb had to hold him upright. That wasn’t sufficient. The wood splintered first and then the steel beneath it warped as he held to it, each second sending more shuddering and more pain.

But he took too long. Even as he struggled for strength, he was too late. Ashley was already stalking her prey. Lucien looked out, narrowed his eyes to see through the gray shade that covered everything, and almost smiled at what he saw. They were in a large game room, dimly lit, although a fireplace shed some light from the far end. The center held four billiards tables, paralleling each other, each beneath its own hanging light. Cranston Brinn was hard to spot at first. He wasn’t large or rotund like Ashley had surmised. He was dressed in a dark suit, appeared to be a hair taller than Ashley, and close to her in weight. And he was definitely on the run from her, using the dark spaces between the tables to his advantage.

“Get back here, Cranston! You bastard!”

Ashley slammed a fist into the first table. It shuddered, cracked, and then dropped apart, the weight making a long, drawn-out groan. Cranston’s response was a high-pitched shriek before he dodged around the next one.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Gee. Cranston. You paid for my death...and you don’t even know who I am?”

“Ashley? Ashley Evans?”

She kicked at the next table. It went flying toward Cranston. The man proved he was agile and quick with a leap atop the third table. And for some reason, it was getting easier to stand. Breathe. Lucien glanced down again. The man had speared his bad shoulder, sent a glancing blow past his heart, but the stick he’d used looked strange. It glinted in the light. Lucien wiped at the blood coating the projectile. And then he smiled, but it was probably as shaky as it felt.

Cranston had used an aluminum cue stick. Not wood. Lucien couldn’t believe his luck. Aluminum cues were a bit more expensive, the jury was still out on effectiveness, and Cranston had probably purchased it just because he could. As a status symbol. It was a debilitating injury but not a death blow. All Lucien had to do was remove it.

All?

He wobbled in place. It wasn’t going to be easy. He had two choices. Slap at this end and hope he had enough power to shove it out his back. Or pull it forward, all the way through him. Either sounded bad. And he was wasting time.

“Surprised to see me?”

Ashley was taunting her prey. Lucien blocked it out. Concentrated. Made a fist of his hand. Pumped a couple of times, and then smacked at the tip sticking out of him.

“You’re not dead?”

“Of, course I’m dead! You aren’t going to get your money back from Claudine that easily! Her little sabotage worked.”

“You don’t...look dead.”

His blow had worked. Somehow. He didn’t even remember dropping again. Lucien planted his forehead into wood flooring that cooled and braced. The gray fog was dissipating. He was no longer dealing with pain. Infirmity was another issue. He’d never felt so feeble. Frail.

“You know, Cranston, now that I’ve met you, I’m really disgusted. I mean, I was disgusted before, but you... This... Words are failing me. Hold still, you little worm!”

“Why? So you can stick a knife in me? Do I look that stupid?”

“In a word...yes!”

The last word was yelled. It drowned out what sounded like another table getting destroyed, followed by a garbled cry.
Ashley?
Lucien choked back a sob, and silently damned the infernal weakness dogging him. It wasn’t meant to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to be incapacitated while his mate fought for her life. He was expected to champion her. Be at her side. Protect. Defend.

It took an act of will, but Lucien managed to turn his head toward the room. He had to blink at a sudden blur that made seeing difficult. And then his heart restarted, jolting him with the power of it. Ashley had tossed the blade, and she’d been deadly accurate. The dagger was buried hilt-deep in Cranston’s throat, and the man was stupid enough to yank it out. And then Ashley was on him, using the knife to hack at him over and over, and starting a litany of sobbed words that ran atop each other.

“You bastard! You ass! You took the best thing in my world away! Bastard! Bastard!”

Blood was spraying everywhere, sent with every blow and every back-blow, coloring the scene with dark red spatter. And still she hacked at the body.

“Ashley,” Lucien said.

“Just a minute, Lucien. I’m busy.” She delivered several more blows, timing each slash to a word.

“But, Ashley...”

“No! No! You don’t understand! Nobody understands! He took the most precious thing in the world from me! Bastard!”

“I know. He took your life. I understand. But I think you’ve paid him back, love. Many times over.”

“Who cares about that? I meant he took you from me. I just found love! And he took it away! Bastard!”

She was still timing her blows to her words, caught up in some frenzied emotion he couldn’t grasp. Or seem to break through.

“Ashley!”

Lucien resorted to slamming a hand to the parquet floor at the same time he said her name, only this time he gave it the bass tones that had earned him the nickname Lucifer. His voice resounded through the room, swaying light fixtures, and rattling bric-a-brac. And it finally stopped her incessant bludgeoning. Ashley jerked upright, and then turned to him. She was filmed completely in blood and looked absolutely perfect.

“Lucien?”

He smiled.

“You’re...not dead?”

“He uses aluminum cues, love. Not wood.”

“Lucien!”

The joy in that cry matched how she flew at him, slamming him back into the wall with her arrival. Lucien grunted as the healing flesh connected with a wall, while his old shoulder injury flexed ominously.

“Watch the shoulder, love! Watch the—! Oh. To hell with it.”