Ashes of Midnight

Page 12

In the several weeks since he'd first glimpsed the vision of his humiliating defeat--a vision that had been revealed to him in the witchy eyes of a young girl presumably now ensconced with the Order--Dragos had been plagued by nightmares. He couldn't shake the sight of his lab lying in smoke-filled shambles, all of his precious equipment shattered and destroyed... and the UV light cage empty, its monstrous occupant--Dragos's secret weapon--no longer held inside. Worst of all was the pitiful vision he'd seen of himself: beaten, begging, on his knees pleading for mercy. "Never," he bit off sharply, as though he could banish the child seer's revelation with his fury alone. He got out of bed and threw a silk charmeuse robe over his naked body as he stalked out of his bedroom to the adjacent study. A large touch-screen computer monitor sat on an antique, ornate desk that had once belonged to a human emperor. Dragos ran his finger over the smooth surface of the screen, bringing up a video feed from his laboratory. Ah, yes, he thought, disturbed by the depth of his relief Everything is still there. The glow from the tightly spaced vertical UV bars stung his hypersensitive eyes, but he didn't care. He zoomed in on the lethargic, half-starved creature contained inside the cell--the creature who shared the same bloodline as he. The lethal otherworlder who was, in fact, his grandfather. Not that bloodlines mattered to him personally. The Ancient's powerful blood cells and DNA, on the other hand, had proven instrumental to Dragos's goals. After decades of work, after centuries of patience spent in hiding, arranging his pieces just so as he waited for the right time to make his move, Dragos's crowning hour was almost at hand. He'd be damned if he was going to let the Order snatch it out of his grasp before he had a chance to seize the glory that was meant to be his. Steps were already under way to prevent the vision he'd witnessed from coming true. He was making a few changes to his operation. Taking expensive and somewhat drastic measures to protect his assets. And he wasn't at all content to sit by and let the warriors in Boston continue to disrupt his work. The Order was a problem he did not need--one he could not afford to risk when he was so close to knowing victory.
They'd invited war when they raided his gathering outside Montreal this past summer, sending him and his private inner circle of high-ranking Breed associates fleeing into the woods like rats off a sinking ship. It had been a public sucker-punch that undermined his authority, not to mention cost him precious time. He would see the warriors pay for that. But Dragos had another problem, too. He brought up the teleconferencing program on his computer and dialed Wilhelm Roth's quarters at the other end of the stronghold. The German vampire, a hard-edged director of the Hamburg Enforcement Agency, was doubtless unaccustomed to playing the subordinate, and Dragos took some amusement in the notion that the midmorning wakeup call would grate the male. To his credit, he picked up the call before the second ring, efficient as always. It was one of his saving graces as far as Dragos was concerned. That, and the fact that Roth was ruthless in his ambitions. "Sire," he said, his face moving in front of the monitor in his chambers.
"How can I serve?" "Status," Dragos demanded, staring hard at his lieutenant. Roth cleared his throat. "Everything is arranged. The operation's first strike began last evening. It should not be long before we have engagement." Dragos grunted his approval. "And the other matter?" There was a moment's hesitation, but that was all. Dragos wondered if Roth knew that his honesty right now was the only thing keeping him alive. Roth cleared his throat. "I am dealing with something of a... a personal situation in Hamburg, sire." "Yes," Dragos said, no need for coyness. He'd heard all about the devastating assault on two of the German's residences from other contacts overseas. He'd also heard that Roth's Breedmate was missing. After a confrontation with Enforcement Agents at Roth's private office in Hamburg, she was presumed to have been abducted by the vampire who evidently had something of a bone to pick with Roth. A vampire with rumored ties to the Order. Dragos's jaw went tight with anger as he considered the many ways a scenario like that could land a lot of troubles on his doorstep. "What do you intend to do, Herr Roth?" "It will be handled, sire." "See that it is," Dragos hissed. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you that the female is a liability now.
If she's in enemy hands, then she is nothing more than a weapon to be used against you. And against me." Roth stared, his shrewd eyes narrowed. "She has no idea where I am. I've never confided in her about anything of importance. Besides, she knows her place when it comes to my affairs." "And how long do you think it will take her captor to find you through your blood bond with her?" Dragos asked. "If they use her to find you, they find me, as well." "That won't happen, sire." "I require a permanent solution to this," Dragos said, knowing what he asked of the male. "Are you prepared to carry that out, Herr Roth?" The German smiled coldly. "Consider it done, sire." Dragos nodded. "Good. Obviously, so long as the female is breathing, your presence is poison to this operation. Remove yourself to Boston until you can assure me that you've eliminated this problem. Be gone by sundown, Herr Roth." The vampire inclined his head in a deferential nod. "Of course, sire. As you wish."
Chapter Eleven
Afew hours after they left the Internet caf? in Hamburg to board a train to Denmark, Claire and Andreas were being escorted to a rural village Darkhaven, courtesy of the Order. Their contact, a beautiful blond Breedmate named Danika, had taken them into her living quarters like family of her own--all warmth and hospitality, no questions asked. "I hope you don't mind cozy," she said as she walked them into a cheery kitchen located off the back door. "We've only got one spare bedroom and bath, but you're welcome to it." The farmhouse where Danika lived with her baby boy, Connor, and one other mated couple was small by Darkhaven standards. Usually members of the Breed population lived in mansions or large brownstones, sometimes the occasional high-rise apartment building. Darkhavens generally comprised tight-knit communities of a dozen or so inpiduals, everyone looking out for one another like kin, even if they were unrelated by blood. But Danika's living arrangements weren't the only unusual thing about her. She was mother to a very young child, a sweet baby boy with her fair coloring and the unmistakably strong genes of a father who was Breed. She hadn't mentioned a mate, and there seemed to be an air of wistfulness about the woman, especially when she was looking at her son. Like now, when little Connor was leaning out of Danika's arms to point emphatically at Andreas. The boy's big blue eyes were wide and eager, while Andreas's gaze was shadowed by the furrow of his brow.
"I'm sorry," Danika said to him. "It's the dermaglyph peeking over the top of your collar. Connor has become fascinated by them in the past couple of weeks." Andreas grunted and gave a nod to the Breed youngster. "He recognizes his own kind already. Smart boy." Danika beamed. "Yes, he is." Claire watched in quiet surprise as Andreas pushed up his sleeve to reveal more of his Breed skin markings, to Connor's obvious delight. The vampire toddler reached out with his pudgy little hand and patted the beautiful swirls and arcs that ran along Andreas's muscled forearm. "Da," he exclaimed. "Da! Da!" "Oh!" Danika's milky complected cheeks went instantly bright pink. "No, sweetheart, this isn't your father. Oh, God... I'm sorry. How embarrassing." Claire laughed and Andreas chuckled, too. "It's all right," he said. "I assure you, I've been called much worse." Danika smiled, but that trace of sorrow was back in her eyes. "Connor's father, Conlan, was a warrior with the Order. He was killed on a mission in Boston before Connor was born." "I'm so sorry," Claire murmured, realizing how fresh the loss still was, since Danika's son was probably not even two years old. Danika gave a mild shrug, cleared her throat. "After I lost Conlan, I went to Scotland--his homeland--to have Connor. I thought I might stay there permanently and raise our son in the highlands Conlan loved so much, but being in his country without him only made me miss him more. I came back home to Denmark last year." Andreas smoothed his broad palm over the top of Connor's pale blond head. "He would be proud of you, Danika, no matter where you choose to raise his son."
"Thank you for saying so." She smiled shyly, charmed, Claire was guessing by the soft look she gave him. And Andreas was charming, particularly as he took the little boy into his big arms to let him closer explore the glyphs that so intrigued him. Claire saw a glimmer of the man she remembered from before--the carefree, charismatic man she'd fallen helplessly in love with all those years ago. Since he'd come storming back into her life two nights ago, Claire thought that man she'd known and adored was long gone. She thought that part of him had been consumed by the flames that had taken his kin and left him the sole survivor, hellbent on revenge. To think she had actually condemned him once for not being serious enough about life ... about her. She'd grown to fear his elusive, devil-may-care ways. She'd worried that he might never be content with just one woman, and maybe he hadn't been after all. She'd certainly heard of his numerous female companions over the years, mortal women, all of them. She knew he had never taken a Breedmate of his own and settled down to have his sons with her, and Claire had long nurtured a secret gladness that he had remained un-bonded all this time. As for her own ill-chosen mate, her loveless match with Wilhelm Roth had produced no offspring either--a blessing, now that she was coming to understand more about Wilhelm's treachery. Despite Andreas's outward recklessness and rakish leanings back when Claire had known him best, he would have made some woman a wonderful mate. She saw that now, in the way he spoke so kindly to Danika and how he took to her son with such ease. Claire looked at him now and wondered how they'd let so much time--so many mistakes and missteps--get in their way. She wondered how long it would take for her to forget this vibrant, magnetic side of him again, once the dust and ash settled on the perilous journey they found themselves on together. How could her life ever go on in light of all she was learning about Wilhelm and all she yearned to have once more with Andreas? "My goodness, I can't believe it's nearly dawn already,"
Danika said, her melodic voice breaking through the heavy weight of Claire's thoughts. "You must be exhausted. Would you like to see where you'll be sleeping?" Claire nodded, afraid her feelings had shown all over her face, for the way the other Breedmate was looking at her with such tenderness and sympathy. She schooled her features into a placid, unreadable mask--a skill she'd perfected during her years as Wilhelm Roth's mate. "What I could really use is a nice hot bath," she said, feeling Andreas's gaze fix on her, even though it had seemed a perfectly reasonable request. "Of course," Danika replied. She glanced to Andreas, who was still holding the delighted Connor. "Would you mind watching him while I show Claire upstairs?" "No problem," he said, his eyes pinning Claire with an intensity that made her blood sizzle in her veins. "Take whatever time you need. The little guy and I will be fine on our own." Claire felt his hot stare following her, as palpable as a lingering caress, as Danika led her out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the second floor of the house. "The bathroom is here," the tall blond female said, gesturing to the open door of a full bath at the top of the stairs. "No one uses this part of the house, so please consider it yours. Here is the bedroom at the end of the hallway." Claire could hardly contain her contented sigh as she walked into the inviting chamber with its golden hardwood floors, dark cherry furnishings, and king-size, quilt-covered bed. It had been a long time since she'd been in a room that exuded such homespun, simple warmth. "I set out a sleep shirt for you, and you'll find plenty of towels in the bathroom.
I don't know what you might be used to at home, but I hope you'll be comfortable enough here." "It's lovely," Claire replied. She drifted over to the massive bed and trailed her fingers across the careful needlework on the quilt's beautiful teal, gray, and cream Nordic design. "This room reminds me of my family's home in Rhode Island." Danika smiled. "Oh, then you're American?" She walked over to a tall, footed armoire and opened the cabinet's burnished- brass-handled doors. "I didn't think you sounded like a German native. No accent at all." "No. I came to Europe many years ago, to study music, actually." Claire walked over to help the other woman retrieve a couple of extra pillows and a folded wool blanket. "I suppose I was very idealistic then, like many young people. As for me, I was torn between my love of the piano and my personal need to do something important with my life, like saving the world." "I'm not sure the world can be saved," Danika said, turning a solemn blue gaze on her. "There's so much corruption and tragedy everywhere you look. Good people die all the time, even the ones whose only faults are striving to do good work and make things better for others." Claire nodded. "My parents were those kind of people.
My mother left a very comfortable life in New England to help bring clean water and medical supplies to a small country in Africa. She met my father, a young doctor from Zimbabwe, while she was working overseas. They fell in love almost instantly, but at that time, marriage wasn't an easy thing to obtain for a white American woman and a black man from Africa. When my mother became pregnant with me, she returned to the States until I was born. My father stayed behind to continue his work and wait for us to come back to be a family. A few months later, conflict broke out in the region. My mother couldn't bear to be away from him while the village they'd worked so hard to build up was being threatened by war. She went back to Africa, and within a month of her arrival they were both killed when rebel forces shot up their camp." "Oh, Claire." Danika pulled her into a caring embrace. "How awful for you and the rest of your family. I'm so sorry." It had been a long time since she'd thought about losing her parents--a couple known to her only by pictures and stories her grandmother in Rhode Island had shared with her as she was growing up, parentless and different, yet a child of privilege in Newport's high society. Now all her relatives in the States were gone.