Big Game

Chapter Twenty-one

Drew
I bolt up from restorative sleep, the concern I had when lying down to rest still front and center in my mind. Grabbing the phone next my bed, I confirm Rafe didn't call when I was out for the count.
"Chelly?" I call into the softly lit room.
"Over here, hon." She lounges in the balcony off our room, her voice carrying through the open door. In a moment she peeks her head in. "You're up early today."
I rub a hand roughly over my face. "I know. I'm worried something happened to Vivian and Rafe. Neither of them called you by chance, did they?"
Chelly comes fully into the room, her face reflective of the concern in my voice. "No, I'm sorry. They didn't." She settles on the bed next to me and runs a hand softly up and down my stiff back. "What does it mean that you haven't heard from them?"
"It means we need to get the hell to Buenos Aires as fast as we can."
Chelly's breath catches in her throat. "You think it's that serious?"
I turn to my girlfriend, the woman who drives me physically bonkers beyond all reason, and take her trembling hand into my own. "I do. I need you to be strong, not falling apart on me, okay?"
Her spine stiffens and her trembling stops. "You're right, Drew. I'm not a wimp. What can I do to help?"
"Pack your clothes while I wake Paul. I'm not taking you to the Tribunal with us, but I'm sure as hell not leaving you here either."
She nods and heads to the closet for our bags. I leave her to pack and proceed to Paul's room for the difficult task of waking a slumbering vampire.
It took a good thirty minutes until Paul was awake enough to move around the room and dress. I took a perverse pleasure in slapping him into consciousness. Reminded me of the days the lads and I used to overindulge in spirits back in London. The day after a long night was quite similar to trying to revive the undead, like I did with Paul. The young men who were less ragged and arose first, used to smack the rest of us into wakefulness with unabashed glee.
Ahh... what I wouldn't give to be back in that carefree time instead of this current predicament. All we worried about then was the sum we gambled the night before when deep in our cups.
"Jesus, Drew." Paul rotates his jaw with one hand. "Did you have to hit me so freakin' hard?"
I suppress a grin, sure it will gain me no favor from the young fledgling. "When the polite taps didn't work, I had to apply more force."
"Uh, huh. Yeah. So you say."
I place a hand on his shoulder and deliver a well-meaning shove in the direction of the closet. "Come on, pack your stuff. We need to get in the air as quick as possible."
"We don't have a seaplane here anymore, do we? Didn't a pilot take it back after he dropped off our luggage?"
"Yes, you're right. We're going to take a boat back to Puerto Santa Cruz and rent a plane to fly to Buenos Aires."
He yanks his bag off the top shelf and stomps back to the bed. Maybe I hit him a little harder than I should have. Oh well, he'll get over it. "I called ahead to Vivian's hangar and the rental is being prepared now."
There's a knock at the door and Tommy and Bob let themselves in. "Hey, are you two going somewhere and didn't tell us?" Tommy asks. The dirty-blond hair of the fit Aussie falls over one eye, concern visible on his face.
Damn. I wasn't counting on taking the entire entourage, but if Chelly is going with us I'm not sure leaving them behind is a good idea. "You're coming, too," I say, making a split decision. "Pack up and be ready in ten minutes."
The two leave and I turn back to Paul. He's fiddling with the contents of his bag, a look of consternation on his face like there's a question weighing on him. "We've got bagged blood, Drew. Why would we need to bring them?"
A trickle of unease slides down my spine. "I don't want to split us up. It might not be what Vivian would do, but I'm going on instinct here."
In a surprise show of support, Paul claps me on the shoulder. "You're doing fine. I trust you, man." His face twists into a grimace. "As long as you're not the bastard waking me up every day."
A half smile forms on my face as I turn to leave, eager to check on Chelly and keep us moving. Out in the hall one of the twins is walking toward our suite. I raise my voice to draw her eye to me. "Can I help you?"
She pauses with her small fist poised to knock on our door and turns toward me. A warm, welcoming smile spreads across her lovely oval face. Her dark brown eyes twinkle in the soft light of the hall. "Drew, just the man I was hoping to see."
I raise my eyebrow at her statement. I'm not sure which twin she is, but they both seemed more interested in Chelly than me the last time we tangled. "Yes?"
"My father called. The boats are being repaired. You won't be able to use them until we get parts flown in. They're due by the end of the week."
"Boats? How many do you have on the island?"
"Three."
"And all three are out of service at once?"
"Yes," she replies, without a hint of guile in her voice.
Something doesn't feel right. I press my will forward, staring deep into the young woman's eyes. "What is wrong with the boats?"
Her eyes widen slightly, indicating she's under my influence and will answer truthfully. "I don't know. I don't know anything about boats."
The answer doesn't help me figure out what's going on, but at least I know she's not bald face lying to me. I pull my will back and nod, dismissing the young woman. "Thanks...?" I trail off, unsure which woman I'm addressing.
"Carmella."
"Yes. Thanks, Carmella. We'll head down to the dock and see what Dalton says about the repair work."
The South American beauty shrugs a shoulder, uncaring one way or the other and walks back down the hall the way she came. I move to open our door only to have Chelly beat me to it. "All packed," she says with a smile, love shining brightly in her eyes to anyone who bothered to look. "I did yours, too."
Warmth seeps through me at her thoughtfulness. Relief relaxes my shoulders, releasing tension I didn't know I was holding. One way or another we'll get to the bottom of this and have our time together. And when we are alone next, I don't plan on waiting to show this luscious creature exactly what I want to do with her.
I step forward and take her round cheeks in my hands. Leaning in, I place my lips on hers in a light kiss of gratitude. "Thank you."
Within twenty minutes the five of us are walking to the dock, the modified golf carts parked at the bottom of the sloping hill. The wind whips our light coats against our body and sends Chelly's longer hair flying into the breeze like a flapping flag. The smell of the ocean overpowers the weaker aromas of the tiny island, oddly uplifting with the water's cleansing scent despite the wet weight of it in the wind.
The sun has started its descent, weak light slanting across the gravel road, casting long ragged shadows behind us. Paul and I have every inch of skin covered to avoid exposure, including scarves around our ears and faces. To the observer we might appear to be covering up from the chill, even though the fall temps here are nothing compared to what we're used to in Alaska.
"How long will the boat ride be?" Bob asks.
The clock at the house read a quarter after six when we left. Which means we'll be flying in full dark by the time we get to the hangar and take off. "A little over an hour."
"I hate boats," he continues. "They make me sick."
Tommy snorts. "Considering you finished a huge bag of Cheetos a little bit ago, that can't be good. I won't be sitting near you on the boat."
The good-natured ribbing keeps up all the way to the dock, where a stoic Dalton greets us. The dark-haired man stands stiff, his face lined in worry. "I'm sorry, sir," he says to me, "the boats are inoperable. Didn't my sister-in-law reach you?"
I motion the others into the boathouse so I can talk to the caretaker alone. "Yes," I begin, pressing my will forward with the word, snaking deep into his consciousness. "She did pass on the information. Can you tell me what happened to the boats?"
He opens his mouth to respond and hesitates. There! I sense a presence in his mind. Another vampire has been in here, and by the subtlety implemented, I'd guess they weren't expecting their actions to be discovered.
"The motors won't turn over on two of them. And the third won't hold oil." The caretaker meets my eye, appearing to believe ever word he says. "My engine knowledge is not the best. We're waiting for a boat mechanic to come from shore with parts."
In a flash of insight, I snag a vague memory floating in Dalton's mind of him sabotaging the boats. The image is buried so deeply, he's not even aware he did it. Which can only mean someone else directed in his actions. Without being cognizant of it, the handsome caretaker has recently become a vampire pawn, probably in a plot against the family he's served for two decades.
I delicately look for a trace of mental contamination that may lead me to the culprit, but whoever dallied in his brain was very delicate, not disturbing too much or planting overtly traitorous actions in Dalton's mind.
It will take more skill than I possess to dig through these fine threads and uncover the truth. I pull back my will and smile reassuringly at the man. "I know my way around an engine. Let me try my hand."
His face pinches, but he nods and steps aside. I enter the boathouse to see Bob already tinkering in the engine compartment of one of the boats. A glance over my shoulder reveals Dalton walking toward the home he shares with Flavia. Could he be up to something else?
I shake my head, wondering if I'm doing the right thing, or if there could be a more elaborate trap in store for us. A cleared throat brings my attention back to our group. The others sit on their luggage, eager to begin this new segment of our journey. Chelly sends me an encouraging smile and I nod my reassurance. I grab a toolbox near a support beam then leap onto the boat deck.
I'm surprised another vampire has compromised the caretaker-but, more so that Vivian didn't check all of the island's inhabitants when we arrived for possible corruption. Sloppy. That's what that is.
I ruminate over her actions while clicking on a flashlight to aid Bob in his exploration. She respects the humans loyal to her beyond what is safe, and now it's come around to bite her in the ass. Could Dalton be implanted with silent orders extending past keeping us on the island? Have the others been affected and that's why the ladies have been overly familiar too soon?
I crouch down and angle the beam of light deeper into the engine compartment. "What do you think, Bob?"
He scratches his head, pushing thin flyaway hair into disarray. "The starter is disconnected, and a few other wires have been pulled away from their connections." He reaches a hand into the toolbox and grabs a wrench. "Give me ten minutes and we'll try the engine. If it still doesn't turn over, I'll dig deeper for another cause."
I pat the stout man on his shoulder in thanks and stand. "This one might work out," I call to the others in the boathouse. "With any luck, we'll be out of here soon."
After a rough, fast-paced trip over choppy water-punctuated by Bob repeatedly hurling his stomach contents over the side-we arrive in port. I manned the small boat as if the hounds of hell could swim and were pursuing us. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the unease and anxiety filling my gut, pushing me to go faster.
I checked my cell phone often, and unlike our compatriots in Alaska who called after we sent in Cy as back up, I never heard from Rafe. True fear for them began to set in after the boat engine turned over. I joined Vivian's seethe for a reason-I don't want to lead. Never have.
Some people might consider such a trait as a weakness, but I don't. Knowing your own strengths and weaknesses takes a lot of soul searching and honesty-something not everyone will take the time to explore. Doing so might reveal things they'd rather leave undiscovered. Plausible deniability.
Everyone likes to play armchair quarterback from the safety of their homes via instant replay, but making an instant decision when the stakes are much higher than a simple game can be paralyzing. Are you making the right choice? Will a mistake cost the lives of the people around you? Have they put their faith in you to make the best decision when even you aren't so sure of the correct path?
I smooth my facial features, keeping my expression free of any inner turmoil-in the same way an experienced vampire can become still and not reveal their presence to those around them. A useful skill to develop when living among a species that thrives on back stabbing, politics, and intrigue-which many of my past seethes have.
A hired car takes us to the small inland airport and Vivian's private hangar. The flight plan was filed on our behalf ahead of time-after I do a last minute check we should be ready for takeoff. I motion the others inside and race through the safety list.
I climb the rented aircraft's stairs and pull them closed behind me. Everyone settles into seats and gets themselves comfortable. I glance to the front of the small dual-propeller plane and call out, "Paul, come sit with me."
He stows his bag and joins me in the cockpit. "What do you need?"
I nod to the seat next to me as I place the communication headset over my ears. "I want you to join me so you can get a feel for the way things work. Sort of an introduction to flight. Also, I want to talk to you about some things."
I wait until we're airborne and cruising at a good altitude to talk about what's really on my mind. "Can you feel Vivian in the back of your mind?"
Paul looks away from the many lights of the dash to glance in my direction. "What do you mean?"
"Sometimes, I've been able to detect her moods and feelings if I concentrate hard enough." I roll my shoulders, trying to shake the apprehension I felt when talking to Rafe on the phone then stare out the windshield into the dark sky. "But when I woke up today that slight presence was gone."
"What do you think it means?" Paul asks, concern coloring his voice.
"I'm not sure. That's why I wanted to check with you."
I see Paul's shoulders rise and drop in his reflection on the windshield. "I'm not too aware of what's going on in my head regarding all this vampire mind linkage stuff yet. Usually she's just there without my knowing how it happened." An audible sigh comes over the headset. "I'm not much help am I?"
"Don't worry about it, Paul. You're still learning to sort everything out. It'll come to you in time."
He snorts. "Oh yeah, after decades and decades of feeling like a dork... gee, what a great thing to look forward to."
"Better than being dead, isn't it?" I shoot back, annoyed at his attitude.
Paul sobers and looks down at the control panel. "Touche."
This opening sounds like what I need to ask about something else that's been weighing on my mind for months. "Hey, speaking of almost being dead-we certainly got lucky back in that hangar with Emiko, didn't we?"
Paul freezes. "Oh man, you're not kidding. I still don't know how she didn't see me as I was sneaking up on her."
"Really, Paul?" My tone slightly incredulous. "It never occurred to you how you could have done it?"
His voice comes across the speakers a little louder than before, "What the hell are you implying, Drew?"
I sigh and wonder what possessed me to bring this up now, like there aren't enough things on our plate, already? Best to get my suspicions out in the open and know what possibilities we're dealing with when we walk into the Seat of Darkness. "What were your exact thoughts when you were approaching her that night? Do you recall?"
Paul stares into the darkness, lost in memories. A long minute of silence passes over the headset, and I begin to wonder if I should prompt him to answer.
"I wished," the chef says in a soft tone. "Does that make sense?" He looks at our dual reflection in the glass and locks eyes with me. "I can't think of any other way to put it. I wished really hard to not make a sound, to be quiet as a mouse, so she wouldn't sense me."
I nod and glance down at the instruments to make sure we're still on track with our flight path. "I think you cast your first physical illusion that night, Paul. Pushed your will out into a wishful thought that became an illusion."
"Really?" his voice squeaks out, disbelief clear in his high-pitched whine. "How is that possible? Can you cast illusions?"
"No," I answer. "But Vivian's not my maker, either."
Paul folds his arms across his chest and sinks back into his seat, no longer interested in flying the plane. "I don't understand. Shouldn't I have been able to mind-control Mina in the kitchen, then? I thought I couldn't even do that right so I must be the vampire equivalent of a mental weakling."
Might as well come clean about everything I've learned and suspect. "That wasn't your fault, Paul. I think the caretakers and their family members had a visit from one of the Inner Circle's lackeys. I tried to discover who, but the vampire was subtle and skilled." Disappointment in my own mental abilities weighs on me. Sure, I might be able to control a group, but I can't wield the gift like a scalpel. "I feared going too deep and damaging their minds by trying to find out more."
"So you think I couldn't place a compulsion on Mina because she was already under the influence of someone stronger?" He shifts in his chair, looking uncomfortable by the direction the conversation has taken.
"Yes. That fits with what I've experienced in the past." I think back to my own learning curve when I was Paul's age. I wasn't in a safe environment like Vivian has set up for her seethe in Alaska. He's luckier than a lot of other fledglings, in more ways than one.
"Let me get this straight, you think I have the power to cast an illusion to momentarily deceive a fellow vampire, but not enough mojo to slip into a human's mind? Doesn't quite jive."
Content the autopilot can handle the plane for a while in safety, I swivel my chair to face the younger vampire. "Well, for starters, Emiko and I weren't under orders from a more powerful vampire-and secondly, they aren't the same thing. Think of a physical illusion like a magic trick. You with me?"
"Yeah, I suppose so."
"The best comparison I can make to vampire mind manipulation would be to line up a person who can do sleight of hand next to someone with extra sensory perception."
"ESP? Come on, people can really do that? Read minds, move stuff, see the future?"
I laugh. "Do you hear yourself, Paul? You're a vampire who cast an illusion of invisibility over himself to kill another vampire, and your boss talks to you in your skull anytime she wants-oh, and she forcibly entered Cora's mind in front of witnesses to change the woman's memories. Yet, you think ESP might not be real?"
His shoulders slump. "Okay, good point." The true implications of our conversation seep in, and he straightens in his chair. "Holy shit. That means I might inherit other parts of Vivian's traits as well? Down the line, like?"
"I'm afraid so."
He pales and his eyes go wide. "I could be hunted and killed by my own species for being a manipulator? That's not right."
"Think about it, Paul." I soften my tone to show I'm not against him, just trying to play both sides. "If someone could control anything the most powerful of us can do, wouldn't that make him or her too dangerous to keep alive? Absolute power corrupts absolutely."
"I thought you liked Vivian." Paul's voice rises with a note of hysteria in it. "I thought you were loyal to the seethe!"
I reach across the cockpit, and lay a hand on his arm. "Calm down, Paul. I am loyal to the seethe. I was trying to play devil's advocate. Manipulators have been hunted for centuries. Wiping them out seemed to be the only way to prevent the ruling class from rising again."
"Ruling class, what the hell are you talking about?"
"There are legends about manipulators who governed all vampires for a millennium."
"And what happened? How did it all change?"
I sink into my seat and let my head fall back, mentally exhausted and terrified of what awaits us when we land. "I don't know. Some say the rest of us had enough and killed those in charge, using silver hoods to incapacitate their powers. Other stories say a handful of corrupted leaders destroyed those with mirroring skills who opposed them." I shrug and turn my chair back to face the windshield. "Who the hell knows what really happened? The end result is the same-you were born into a line with a target on its back."