Vaulcron (Enigma Series Book 3) (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Naura burst through Vaulcron’s door without bothering to knock. “You are on the television, brother.”

Vaulcron sprang from the bed, grabbing the remote as he rushed across the room to the couch.

Abbie, Hauke, and Tony came barreling in as well, taking up every available seat in the room.

Vaulcron flipped on the television. “What channel is it on?”

“The American channel,” Oz announced, hurrying in and facing the big black screen. He glanced at Vaulcron. “Channel eight.”

Vaulcron scrolled to the correct channel, his jaw dropping when his face came into view on the screen.

His gut tightened with pain as Mallory’s voice echoed throughout the room, but nothing prepared him for the sight of her beautiful face.

Sorrow rolled through him like the waves of an ocean, sweeping back and forth and taking his breath.

Vaulcron bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from howling her name.

“She did it,” Tony blurted, pulling Vaulcron out of his grief-induced suffering. “Mallory Cahill, has just exposed the president of the United States. Holy shit, she’s a hero.”

“If she yet lives,” Vaulcron growled, jumping to his feet.

“She lives.”

The whispered words came from the open doorway. Every head in the room swung in that direction to find Amy standing just inside the room, her hand resting on Zaureth’s arm.

“You have spoken with her?” Vaulcron knew he sounded desperate, but he couldn’t keep the anguish from his voice.

Zaureth led Amy deeper into the room. She patted his hand before turning her gaze in Vaulcron’s general direction. “She is okay for now. She wanted me to tell you how sorry she is for everything, and that your people will be safe for the time being and better off in the long run now that she’s gone.”

Vaulcron’s heart felt as if it cracked in half. “She will not be returning, then.”

“It doesn’t look that way,” Amy admitted in a quiet voice. “I’m so sorry.”

Vaulcron glanced around at the somber faces scattered throughout his living quarters. “I would like to be alone.”

Everyone got up at once and filed toward the door. Zaureth and Amy were the last ones to leave. “Please don’t hate her,” Amy pleaded, moisture filling her light blue eyes. “She only did what she thought was best.”

Vaulcron fought his own emotional battle. “I do not hate her, Amy. She is my heart. My mate. She left me to return to her world. A world that has no place for me. Now, I must try to find a way to survive, to live without her.”

Zaureth guided an obviously distraught Amy into the hall, closing the door behind them and leaving Vaulcron alone to grieve in privacy.

He sat back down in front of the television, watching as the faces of Incola victims filled the big screen.

Vaulcron had never witnessed anything like it. The blood-filled eyes, blisters, and yellowing skin took away from their humanity somehow, leaving them skeletons of rotted flesh and death rattles.

He switched off the television, imaging Mallory back in the States, dwelling among the sick ones. What if she somehow came in contact with that virus? She had no protection against it and would surely die if she became infected.

Vaulcron ran a hand through his hair and headed for the door. He would go after Mallory whether she wanted him or not. Once the danger had passed, he would let her go, if she so desired. Until then? She would stay by his side.

He stalked down the stairs, bursting into the lobby and nearly running into Tony.

“Don’t do it, Vaulcron. They’ll be expecting you this time. You’ll never make it to shore.”

Vaulcron’s lips peeled back over his fangs. “I have to go. Mallory is completely alone out there. She needs my help.”

“You can’t expect to just arrive on the beach and snatch her up, Vaulcron. You don’t even know where she is.”

Vaulcron pinned Tony with an angry stare. “If it were Naura out there. What would you do?”

Tony closed his eyes in defeat. “Fine. But I’m coming with you.”

“No,” Vaulcron snarled, “I go alone.” He pushed past Tony and stormed out the double doors toward the beach beyond. He had a long swim ahead of him, and he’d wasted enough time already.

Oz lounged on the beach, swinging his leg from the side of a reclining chair as Vaulcron arrived at the water’s edge.

Vaulcron took a breath for patience as the native Cuban straightened to his full height. Being only a couple of inches shorter than Vaulcron, Oz wouldn’t have trouble intimidating a normal man. Not Vaulcron. “What are you doing out here, Oz?”

“Waiting for you.”

“If you think to stop me from leaving, it will not work.”

Oz held up a small set of keys. “I am not here to stop you, Vaulcron. I’m here to give you a ride.”

Vaulcron eyed the keys. Taking the boat would get him to Florida a lot faster than swimming. “Okay. I do not want you endangered, Oz. If you would take me as far you can while sailing under their radar, I would much appreciate it. Are you ready?”

The corner of Oz’s mouth lifted. “I was born ready.”

Chapter Thirty

Mallory nearly jumped out of her skin as the headlights of a car shone through her window.

She swallowed back her panic and pulled the curtain back far enough to see outside.

A sleek black car parked in the narrow drive, followed by four more vehicles pouring in behind it.

Letting go of the curtain, she leaned against the wall while attempting to slow her breathing.

A knock suddenly sounded on the door. “Miss Cahill?”

It was now or never, Mallory told herself, disengaging the locks and pulling the door wide.

A man stood on the porch, wearing a dark suit and a holding a gun. “Take a step back, ma’am.”

Mallory’s heartbeat kicked up a notch. She backed into the center of the room, her arms held out to her sides. “I’m unarmed.”

“That remains to be seen,” the guy murmured, stepping over the threshold. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall.”

Doing as she was told, Mallory swiveled around and flattened her palms against the wall.

Hands were instantly on her body, patting her down with the efficiency of a general.

“She’s clean,” the guy barked before striding off to check the rest of the cabin.

Four more suited men entered the small space, followed by Vice President Pratt.

“Miss Cahill,” Pratt announced, stopping in front of her, his hand extended. “You can relax now.”

“Please, call me Mallory.” She slowly lowered her arms.

“I apologize for the rough treatment, but I can never be too careful.”

“It’s fine,” Mallory assured him. “Would you like to sit?”

Pratt glanced around before choosing a recliner that had seen better days.

Mallory took a seat on the sofa and clasped her hands together. “I have so much to tell you that I don’t really know where to start.”

“Why don’t you try the beginning.”

Mallory filled Pratt in on everything that had happened since the explosion that sent Hauke washing up on shore, ending with, “According to what Doctor Sutherland explained before he died, the virus is mutating at a rapid rate. It’ll be airborne soon, sir. Millions of lives will be lost if that happens.”

“My God,” Pratt breathed, staring at Mallory in shock.

“There’s more, sir. President Howell abducted Vaulcron and me. He held us at Winchester Industries, while forcing me to…”

Pratt leaned forward and laid a hand over one of hers. “Forcing you to what?”

Mallory took a shuddering breath. “He surgically removed my birth control and had a doctor inject me with a high dose of gonadotropins.”

“Gonadotropins?”

“Fertility medication.”

“What the hell for?” Pratt asked incredulously.

“He planned to breed us.”

Pratt jumped to his feet and began pacing along the edge of the oval-shaped coffee table. “This is unbelievable. Why breed more of the very thing he thinks will be our downfall?”

“Because he knows the Bracadytes aren’t responsible for any of this. The CDC is to blame for the virus, and President Howell is covering it up. Not only that, but he sent a direct order to the secretary of defense to blow up Aukrabah, the Bracadytes’ home.”

“Sir?” one of the security team interrupted. “You may want to turn on the TV.”

Mallory bounded up and ran across the room to switch on the old television set sitting in the corner.

The sight of Vaulcron sitting on her couch, calm and collected, took her breath away. She stood in awe, watching her interview with him through different eyes. He was the most amazing creature Mallory had ever known.

“That is Vaulcron?” Pratt stood next to her, his mouth hanging open in awe.

“Yes. He’s the Prince of Aukrabah,” Mallory explained with pride. “And my mate.”

Acceptance settled inside her heart. Her mind opened to Vaulcron, and all the love she felt spilled over through that connection.

“
Mallory
?” Vaulcron whispered through her mind. “
I am here, my mate. Tell me where you are so that I may come to you.”

Mallory widened the connection, presenting him with a visual of her location along with the address. “
I’m not alone, Vaulcron. Be careful.”

“
Are you hurt
?” The anxiety coming from him was palpable.

“No one has hurt me, Vaulcron. I’m with Vice President Pratt. Hopefully, he can help us.”

“
Do not leave. I will be there very soon.”

Butterflies erupted in Mallory’s stomach. Vaulcron was coming for her.

“Miss Cahill?” Pratt’s voice penetrated Mallory’s love-struck brain.

“I’m sorry, sir. You were saying?”

“We have to get you out of here. This place isn’t safe. If they suspect that I came to you, the GPS tracker on the car will lead them right to your door.”

“I can’t leave,” Mallory insisted. “Vaulcron will be here shortly. If I’m gone before he arrives, he will tear this town apart looking for me.”

“Damn it,” Pratt growled, rubbing the back of his neck. “When he gets here, I want you to go to this address.” He pulled out a pad and pen from his coat pocket and scribbled something down before tearing the page loose and handing it to her.

Mallory accepted the scrap of paper and read the barely legible writing. “What is this?”

“It’s a rental house my mother-in-law has in New Orleans. It’s empty at the moment. You’ll be safe there until I can figure out what to do.”

“What are you going to do?”

Pratt turned and headed toward the door. “I don’t know yet. Is your phone a disposable one?”

Mallory nodded.

“Give me the number, and I’ll call you the moment I know what my next move will be.”

Mallory borrowed his pen, jotted down her number in his notepad, and handed it back to him. “I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“You can start by letting the Bracadytes know that I mean them no harm. And I’d like to arrange a meeting with their leader as soon as it’s safe to do so.”

“A meeting, sir? What for?”

“To try to come to some kind of an agreement. They can help us with this virus, and we can help them rebuild what we’ve done. Hopefully, some kind of peace can be found.”

“That’s all they want, sir. To live in peace. They truly mean us no harm.”

Pratt nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”

Mallory stood in the open doorway until Pratt disappeared inside his car and backed out of the drive with his convoy in tow.

Chapter Thirty-One

Vaulcron climbed into the back of the vehicle at Oz’s insistence, pulling the door closed with a quick jerk.

He turned to face the Cuban. “Do you trust these land walkers?”

Oz shrugged. “I don’t have to trust them. Tony does, and that’s good enough for me.

The driver of the car glanced up in the rearview mirror with wary eyes. His gaze touched on Vaulcron before coming to rest on Oz. “My orders are to take you where you need to go and make sure that you get that bag in the floor.”

“Is Melvin not coming with us?” Oz asked, snatching the bag up from the floor and dropping it onto the seat between him and Vaulcron.

“Melvin gives the orders. He doesn’t get personally involved.” The driver glanced nervously at Vaulcron once again.

Vaulcron could practically taste the man’s nervous energy, but he kept his feelings to himself. The only thing he cared about at the moment was reaching Mallory in time.

Oz unzipped the black bag he’d gotten from the floor and winked at Vaulcron. “It looks like we’ve hit the mother lode.”

“I do not understand.”

Reaching into the bag, Oz pulled out a small, round object that grew smaller near the top. “This is a military-grade grenade. The bag’s full of them.”

“That is a weapon?”

“Hell yeah.” Oz chuckled. “We could damn near take out a small country with what we have in here.”

Vaulcron nodded. “That may be what it takes before this is over with.”

Oz grew serious. “Let’s hope not.”

“Where am I taking you?” The driver inquired, pulling out onto a gravel road.

Vaulcron shifted his gaze to the mirror and rattled off the address Mallory had given him. “It is a small structure near the water’s edge.”

“It’s a fishing village,” the driver explained. “I can have you there in twenty minutes. But you will need to get in the trunk.”

Vaulcron’s brows lifted. “The trunk?”

“I have military clearance to cross the bridge. But if you’re spotted at a checkpoint, it’s game over.”

Oz slowed his rummaging in the bag. “Have you seen his size? He’ll never fit in the trunk.”

The driver shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the only way I can get him across the bridge.”

“He can swim across. We’ll pick him up on the other side,” Oz assured him.

The driver stepped on the gas as they reached the main road. “How long will it take him to reach the opposite shore?”

Oz grinned. “Minutes.”

The driver met Vaulcron’s gaze in the mirror once more. “Once you emerge from the water, there will be a tollbooth a hundred yards ahead. You will stay to the right of it. After you’ve crossed the two roads that veer to the right, you’ll come to an intersection. Go right. That’s Highway 20. We’ll be waiting on the side of the road.”

Vaulcron nodded his understanding.

“We can’t risk being noticed, so I suggest you put it in high gear and get to us as quickly as possible.”

Able to decipher most of what the driver said, Vaulcron turned his attention to Oz. “If I do not make it back to the vehicle, you will make certain that Mallory gets to Cuba, unharmed. She is to have all of my possessions.”

Oz stared at him for a moment before answering. “You have my word.”

* * * *

William Pratt climbed on board the jet and made his way to his seat. “Let’s get off the ground as soon as possible.”

The pilot gave him the thumbs-up before pulling the door to cockpit closed.

Fishing out his phone, William dialed his home number.

“Hello?” his wife answered, her voice a balm to his soul.

“Jackie? I need you to listen very carefully.”

“Bill? Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine, sweetheart. I’m going to tell you this once and once only. I need you to do this without question or argument.”

“Bill, you’re scaring me,” she whispered, anxiety permeating her tone.

“I’m sorry, Jackie. I’m not trying to scare you, but something is going on, and I need you and Lilian on a plane to Canada.”

“Canada?” she asked in a numb voice. “Bill, please tell me what’s going on.”

He briefed her on the story that Mallory had told him. “Things are about to get ugly here, Jackie. Howell will more than likely be impeached. If I become acting president of the United States, there’s a good chance I could be targeted.”

“Bill!” Jackie cried, tearing at his heart. “I can’t leave knowing you’re in danger.”

“I don’t know that I am. I’m just being cautious. You have to think about Lilian. Get her to safety, Jackie. Tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Have you watched the evening news? The story is all over the television.”

“No. I was making dinner for Lilian.”

“I’ll have the secret service arrange a jet for you. Tell no one where you’re going. Not even your mother. Once you arrive in Canada, stay in a hotel with high-level security where you’ll be safe until I can send for you.”

“I don’t want to go without you.”

“You have to,” he barked, regretting it instantly. He softened his tone. “I will send for you as soon as I can. I promise.”

“O-okay. I love you, Bill.”

“I love you too, Jackie. Kiss Lilian for me.” He ended the call before his emotions got the better of him.

* * * *

Pratt arrived home two hours later. The lingering scent of Jackie’s perfume still hung in the air as he followed the secret service into his foyer.

“Mrs. Pratt and your daughter have been put on a jet per your instructions, sir. Fletcher and Washington are with them, with orders to protect them until they return.”

“Thank you, Russell.” William strode off to the den and poured himself a drink.

From what Mallory had told him, and the media airing the Bracadyte’s interview, Pratt knew it was only a matter of time before an investigation would ensue, and Howell would be on trial for impeachment.

Though Pratt was well aware of Howell’s crooked dealings, he’d had no idea the president was capable of abducting and murdering innocent people.

Pratt tossed back his scotch and poured another, waiting on the phone call that would beckon him to the White House.

As acting president, Pratt would be under public scrutiny in the aftermath of Howell’s destruction.

He would have to tread carefully in order to unravel the mess Rueben had made. How the hell was he supposed to step in and right the wrongs that had been done?

The American people came first, Pratt silently swore, downing his drink. But the Bracadytes deserved compassion as well. And if what Miss Cahill had told him back at that cabin was true, the aliens held the key to saving the world.

Pouring himself another drink, Pratt dropped into a nearby chair and laid his head back against the cushion. His wife’s and daughter’s faces haunted his mind.

Pratt couldn’t imagine his precious daughter falling ill to the deadly virus sweeping across the land. And the longer the Bracadytes remained in hiding, the longer it would take to find a cure.