Blood Bond

CHAPTER 25

I FINALLY DRIFT OFF, UNEASY THOUGHTS OF WHAT LIES ahead for us transforming themselves into uneasy dreams in which Avery and Steffan lie in wait. I had reason to want Avery dead. I can't even remember what Steffan's host looks like. I had only one brief glimpse of the five shifters standing together when we walked into Steffan's party. Their attention had been on Frey.
Frey.
I absently run my hand along his sleek neck. If Steffan's shifter goes after him, I will gladly end both their lives. We have a wedding-
I bolt upright. We've been gone almost eight hours. What are my parents going to think when they wake up and find us gone?
Shit. I look at my watch. It's close to five. If Steffan and Archambault are traveling by car it will be another four hours at least before they get here. Frey and I have an appointment this afternoon with the officiates of our wedding ceremony.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
This is not supposed to be happening.
Frey and I are supposed to be at home with our families.
What was I thinking agreeing to come with Vlad?
As if speaking his name in my head is an invitation, here he is.
I'm sorry I have usurped time with your family. I promise we will end this thing as quickly as possible and I will get you and Frey back to your family.
In a few hours, they will miss us. We don't even know if Steffan is on his way here. I can't believe I let myself get dragged into this.
Did you have a choice? Vlad's tone is shock with a touch of annoyance. Weren't you the one who first uttered the eloquent words I quoted today about protecting humanity?
I close my eyes, breathe in and out. Yes. Damn it. And thanks to Chael, here I am.
Chael.
Do you have a cell phone with you? I ask Vlad.
He digs one out of a pocket.
I don't suppose you have Chael's number?
No. But I have the next best thing. He punches some numbers into his phone. There is just a moment's hesitation before he is speaking rapid-fire French to whoever answered on the other end. He holds the phone away from his ear. Shall I have Chael tell your parents that you took a romantic last-minute road trip to Paris? We'll say you'll be home by early afternoon.
Can we be home by early afternoon?
I will see to it.
Miserably, I nod.
Vlad finishes his call. My assistant, he explains. He will take care of everything.
I mumble a thank-you, but it's without heart. What if something happened to my mother last night? I'm miles away with no way to get back until we've taken care of-
Frey suddenly comes awake with a growl. At the same time, Vlad jumps to my side. An outside light has come on over the front door. We steal across the yard to get a better look.
A cab is pulling up to the curb in front of Archambault's house. The door opens and the shifter steps out.
Vlad shakes his head. Of course. He must have flown to the party from Paris. The car was to take him back to the airport.
A thrill of relief washes over me-small and maybe inconsequential. But at least our wait is over.
Vlad cuts my optimism short. Archambault pays the driver and is turning toward the house when he suddenly stops. He is still shrouded in shadow from the trees lining his street, but this is the first chance I've had to really look at him.
Bear is an appropriate totem for the huge hulk of a man dressed in a tux that had to have been customized to accommodate his six-foot-six, three-hundred-pound frame. His complexion is coarse, features blunted, lips drawn and thin. He is breathing through his mouth, teeth bared, as if his flat nose is merely a placeholder on his face and has no useful purpose. Suddenly, he raises that nose, sniffing the air, adding to the illusion that we are watching an animal.
Does he sense Frey, the panther, hiding in his garden?
I reach down to touch Frey, an unconscious gesture to reassure myself that he is here, beside me. The panther is crouched and growling so softly, no human ear would pick it up.
I look to Vlad. What now?
Maybe he'll make it easy for us, Vlad says. Come through the back into the garden.
But Archambault doesn't accommodate us. After a long moment, he continues up the front walk to his door. From our viewpoint, we hear but cannot see a female greeting him and the closing of the door as they go inside.
Shit.
Could you tell if it was Steffan? I ask Vlad.
He shakes his head.
What now? Impatience sharpens my tone. Maybe I should walk right up to his door and see if he recognizes me. Steffan would. I doubt Archambault could. We were never introduced. At least we'd know for sure if we were on the right track.
Frey suddenly tenses beside me. No longer growling softly, he rumbles a warning as the back door is flung open. I reach down to steady him, eyes on the rectangle of light spilling into the yard.
No longer wearing his tux jacket, Archambault steps into the garden. "Is that you, Anna Strong?" he asks in a voice instantly recognizable. "I should have known with your experience, you might suspect I'd have an escape plan."
I motion for Frey and Vlad to stay hidden and step forward to the center of the garden.
"You and Avery have a lot in common, Steffan." I smile. "How did you know I was here?"
He touches the tip of his nose. "Funny thing. As a vampire, I had many heightened sensibilities. I never appreciated that of smell. Seems it's one of the few I have left now in this form. Your perfume in the car the other day, and tonight, it is memorable."
He is holding a wineglass and he takes a sip. "Why have you come here? I have been effectively neutralized, have I not? I will spend eternity in the cumbersome body of this ignorant shifter." He gestures toward the house behind him. "Hardly the domicile of a king."
"Ah, but you have plans, don't you? Like Avery, you would never be content to remain an ignorant shifter."
"Perhaps." Another sip of wine, a slow smile. "But that is not your concern. You are here for a short while and then you will return to America. Don't let me interrupt those plans. It would not be in your, or your fiance's, best interest."
He gestures toward the corner where Frey and Vlad wait. "You know, I could have taken your pet. That would have been interesting, would it not? And not without it's pleasurable aspects. But I have no desire to be consort to the Chosen One."
"A wise choice, Steffan. Though a shortsighted one. I have no reason now to delay ending your existence."
He smiles. "Think carefully before taking action, Anna. After all, one funeral in a family is hard enough. It would devastate your father should he lose a daughter as well as a wife."
I don't sense Frey approach until he attacks. Like a specter, he rushes by on silent paws and launches himself at Archambault, fangs bared. Archambault retreats back, Frey clawing his way up his torso to snap at his neck.
"Frey, no."
But my words are lost in the thunder of his growls. Frey has tasted blood and he continues to rake at Archambault.
Instinctively, the shifter under attack loses control. Clothes shred as bone and sinew transform themselves into fur and muscle. Archambault's face contorts, snout forming with teeth as sharp and fearsome as Frey's. His head on a stout neck transforms into the round-eared mask of a polar bear and when he shakes Frey off with a huge paw, the panther is flung to the far wall.
Terror clutches at my heart as Frey lies still among the newly turned earth of a flower bed. Behind me, the bear roars, but my eyes remain fixed to Frey's still form. At last, he stirs. And when he looks up at me, I know. It's time.