Key to Redemption Page 9

  The men greeted their Count warmly. Aleksei and Tanis were well loved. They had never fed here, never killed here. The Rachlavs had kept the village as safe as they could. Silent, benevolent, but lethal guardians to the town and its surrounding areas. Nearly half of the businesses in the community owed part of their success to the Rachlav fortune seeing them through tough economic times.

  The Rachlavs supported a large, viable network of local artisans who made traditional Romanian crafts and artwork. They were entitled to a percentage of the proceeds from the sale of the pieces and articles made, most of which they invested back into the town and its residents. Any person could directly petition the family for help if they hit a rough spot in their finances. All Aleksei had ever asked in repayment was that they give back into the community fund when they were able.

  The town kept the Rachlavs’ secrets as it had for more than four hundred years. It was a small price for the safety and support they had received. As Aleksei approached and returned the affectionate greetings, one of the men stood and extended his hand. “Count Rachlav, it is good to see you around the village again.”

  “Thank you, Mihai, I enjoy coming to the village as often as I am able.” Aleksei made it a point to know each and every person by name and occupation. He saw the man’s eyes light up as he heard his Count address him by name.

  “How is the business going? Do you have enough orders or should we advertise a bit more?”

  Mihai was a woodcarver of great skill. His woodcut panels, icons and signs were in great demand all over Eastern Europe, thanks to the webpage Aleksei had linked to the Village of Sacele’s parent website. He fairly beamed as the Vampire asked him about his business.

  “We have almost more than we can handle now, my Lord, but thank you for asking.” He reseated himself with his friends, blushing a little to have been so bold as to speak to the reigning Vampire Lord directly.

  Aleksei allowed his smile to reach his eyes, though he didn’t feel all the warmth he should have with Gillian’s newly disclosed occupation looming in the background. “You are welcome.”

  He looked over all of them, seated at the expertly carved tables drinking their evening coffee. “All of you must remember to tell me or my brother if there is anything we can do to help you. I am sorry we have not been as visible of late, but we have not forgotten our home and our people.”

  He bade them farewell and started to leave, but a voice stopped him. “Count Rachlav, did you come to visit or do you need . . . food?”

  Everyone stopped talking as Aleksei turned back to the voice. A tall, slender, attractive dark-haired woman, only just beginning to show gray in her hair, stood in the doorway of the coffee shop, smiling. Esi Stanislaus had owned the local coffee shop and café with her husband for nearly thirty years. He had been an early casualty in the turf war, a victim of a preemptive Vampire strike when he traveled between towns purchasing the local gourmet items they stocked at their café.

  Aleksei had personally tracked down the perpetrating Vampire and dealt with it. Esi had no reason not to believe in the Rachlavs, remaining loyal to Lord and village despite her husband’s death à la Vampire.

  She was a friendly, familiar face to himself and Tanis, and a sexy vision to the men of Sacele, but Esi was faithful to her husband’s memory. While charming, she did not flirt with intent. She was known for being honest, honorable and mean as hell if provoked.

  He went back to her, lifted her hand and kissed it formally, holding her gaze with his eyes. “Esi, you are as kind as you are perceptive. But I do not feed here, as you all know. You are my sustenance, but you are not food.”

  She blushed under the icy gray gaze and laughed. “Your hands are cold, oh great Vampire Lord. If you need your ‘sustenance,’ you have but to ask. Look . . .” She gestured to the tables.

  At least five men stood up instantly with all the others rising next. None of them were hesitant, none were frightened, and they all nodded or vocalized encouragement. Aleksei looked them all over carefully. He could identify each one’s intentions and found no deceit or hesitation. They were offering.

  “Gentleman and Esi, please do not ask this of me. I cannot feed upon my people, those I protect. It is but a little journey to find an errant traveler or one whose heart is not as good as those who live and prosper in this village.”

  “It is for that reason we are offering, Count Rachlav.” That was from Mihai again. “We do prosper and live here. In fact, we live very well thanks to the Rachlav family.”

  He stepped closer, having to reach up to put his hand on Aleksei’s upper arm, feeling the coolness of the rock-hard muscles underneath the linen shirt. Esi was right; he needed to feed. “We are offering freely. You cannot take what is given to you.”

  Aleksei stared down at the smaller man. Mihai was fairly tall for a Human, nearly six feet, but the Vampire topped him by almost eight inches. “It is not right,” he said, almost helplessly.

  “You cannot protect us if you are weakened, Count Rachlav,” Esi pointed out. “It makes more sense to take what is freely offered here than to have trouble come while you are out looking for blood elsewhere,” she added pragmatically.

  In the end, Aleksei gave in. They were so insistent that he fed there from them. Several stepped up and went into the back of the coffee shop with Aleksei. He fed from each of their wrists, ritually, respectfully. When he’d fed enough, he thanked them sincerely. To his surprise, they thanked him for letting them be like his squires or vassals. It made them feel like they were important enough to help their benefactor, and as Mihai pointed out, technically he was their Liege Lord. That had brought a smile to the Vampire’s lips, stunning them all for a moment with his sheer loveliness.

  After he left, they gathered as many of the other villagers as they could find and talked with their fellows of their promise to the Rachlavs. It was agreed that every evening, alternate townsfolk would meet at Esi’s to provide for Aleksei, Tanis and whomever else they might house who would need blood. A greater gift they couldn’t have given.

  Aleksei communicated what had transpired to Tanis through their link. They were trying an experiment since Gillian and Aleksei were staying away from each other as much as possible and he had more time. Since both brothers had come into their full power, owing to the dismantling of the dampening fields set up around Sacele, and Aleksei had emerged as the Head of his own Line, Tanis wanted to be free of Dracula’s taint.

  He was a Master Vampire in his own right, but Aleksei had the full power of a Lord. After much discussion, and consulting with their friend and ally, Osiris, they settled on treating Tanis like a new conversion. Four substantial blood exchanges initiated and given by Aleksei would hopefully clear Tanis’s system of Dracula’s strain. They simply couldn’t afford the risk, especially after Dracula had kidnapped Tanis months before.

  Aleksei wouldn’t feed for the next two nights before nearly draining Tanis. Blood-volume consumption in Vampires was part of their inherent enchantment. Movie Vampires, who drained their prey to the point of death in a matter of seconds, were simply ridiculous. Victims could be killed because of blood loss, but it took more than one feeding and generally more than one Vampire to accomplish it. For a conversion, a single Vampire with enough power had to complete four massive exchanges with the intended.

  Three significant but smaller exchanges would gift them with a mate or servant who did not wish to experience the full monty of the Night Life. It gave them many of the benefits of being a nightwalking Vampire and none of the consequences. Tanis was already a powerful Vampire but his lineage, like Aleksei’s had been, was of Dracula’s Line. He wanted to be free of it, especially now since he’d met Gillian and Jenna. He didn’t know if Jenna was “the one” for him, but he never wanted to gift a potential mate with the blood of the Dark Prince. It would leave her, whoever she was, at the sinister Vampire’s beck and call if he so chose.

  While the Rachlavs were discussing the best way to get on with it
, Gillian was headed toward the guesthouse. She felt pretty good. Moose’s spirits had picked up considerably even though what Aleksei had gleaned from her thoughts made little sense to Gillian. The hideously ugly creature had practically skipped into the group session on her heavy hooves, horns waving happily. Samuel had even smiled, which for him was practically a miracle.

  Still no word or sign from the Vampire at the Inn, so Gill had extended her session with Moose, Samuel, the Dark Court Fey and the Sluagh, who huddled uncomfortably in a dim corner of the room, behind Gillian’s chair. It had been cloaked in some sort of shimmery gray fabric, and they got glimpses of too many limbs and eyes. Once they were through and her notes recorded, she’d moved on with her thoughts to Perrin.

  It was a nice night. Just cool enough for most Humans to want a light jacket. Except Gillian. She reveled in the cool air, walking in tight black pants tucked into thigh-high flat boots. Her shirt was laced up from the chest, gleaming white, which cast a reddish glow over her blond hair. A heavy combat rapier swung at her left hip and black leather gauntlets, tucked into her belt, hung on the right. The plan was to spend some time with Perrin, then go in for a little swordplay with Finian and Trocar. She didn’t want to take the time to change in between and looked like a short, blond pirate strolling through the dark verdant path adjacent to the parking area and entrance road.

  As she was turning to climb on the porch, headlights moved up the road, toward her and the castle. She changed direction instantly, drawing the gauntlets on and putting her hand on the sword. No one should be coming right now. Glancing at the parking lot, she saw that Helmut’s van was missing but she knew Helmut was in the castle. Who hadn’t been there? Jenna. Goddess above, she was getting as attention deficit disordered as her friend. Tanis had told her earlier that Jenna had driven to Brasov to pick up Kimber and Daed, then Helmut had asked her about Perrin’s progress, and “Shiny!,” just like that, she’d lost her train of thought.

  Argh! This was ridiculous. She was a trained professional, a former military leader; but the issue with Aleksei—being cut off from a regular diet of fabulous sex; the number of mounting casualties in the Fang Wars, as it was being called by the Human press; Perrin’s situation; her missing client and generally not knowing where the other shoe would eventually fall were all getting overwhelming. She’d need therapy herself soon if she didn’t blow off some steam. Hence the swordplay. Nothing like facing an opponent with a four-foot-long, steel barbeque skewer aimed at your vital bits to get your attention focused real damn fast.

  Inside the guesthouse, Perrin waited by the window. He’d watched Gillian’s progress down the path and seen the lights as she did. Amazed, he watched as she drew her gauntlets on and moved, hand on hilt, to stand on the path in front of the house where he waited. She was deliberately placing herself in the path of whatever threat she perceived and was shielding him, though he was safe inside.

  The parking lot light that Aleksei had installed illuminated the area with a pinkish glow and turned Gillian’s hair to flame. She looked so small out there, waiting alone. Perrin felt his heart rate increase and his breathing quicken. He was afraid for her and didn’t know what to do about it.

  The van pulled in and Jenna hopped out to hug her friend. “Hey I’ve missed you these last couple of days!” she said brightly.

  “I know,” Gillian murmured, patting her back. “I’ve been a lousy friend lately and I’m sorry.”

  Jenna held her at arm’s length. “Knock that shit off, you hear? You’ve been doing your job. That’s what you’re supposed to do, so don’t start the Jewish guilt thing or I’ll pound you.” Jenna’s grin was infectious and Gillian returned it.

  “I can’t help it. I’m Jewish, by heritage anyway. The guilt comes along with it. It’s like a legacy. I’m just a little overwhelmed and didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten I had a gal pal here.”

  “Not a chance. Besides, if you do, I’ll sneak in while you’re sleeping and put purple streaks in your hair,” Jenna smirked. “And I bet your rabbi would just love to know your best friend is a Pagan and your boyfriend’s a Vampire.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend!” Gill snapped.

  “He is and he will be again. You’re just taking a break, like Ross and Rachel.”

  Gillian opened her mouth to say something contemptuous about the Friends reference when she was grabbed from behind and tossed into the air. Instinct took over and she spun, not bothering to try to draw the sword in midflight, and dropped into a fighting crouch. Dimly she knew that if something really bad had been sneaking up on her, Jenna would have said something. Well, unless Tanis or Josh Holloway from Lost were standing in her line of vision without their shirts while the sneaking was going on. Then she’d be screwed for sure.

  CHAPTER 7

  DAEDELUS Aristophenes, M.D., Ph.D., was grinning at her full of Southern charm, arms wide, black eyes sparkling. Kimber had come around the other way and pounced on her from the side. Daed moved in to crush all of them in a group hug.

  “Mmmmmmph! Ow! Sword!” Gillian squawked, feeling the hilt of the weapon digging into her diaphragm and prodding a lung. She sagged a little as Daed released them, and rubbed her abdomen. “Aristophenes, you moron! Don’t you know weapon decorum, for hell’s sake?”

  Ever jubilant, her former boss laughed, rubbing her back, up to her shoulder, then gently kneading her tight neck muscles. “Hey, kiddo, you need a massage in the worst way.”

  “Not bad enough to get it from you, you snake. Don’t ever do that again. If I’d had a main-gauche on like I usually do, I’d have pinned you like a moth,” she said flatly, referring to the secondary stiletto-like weapon favored by Italian swordsman in the fourteenth century. But Daed didn’t remove his hand, just moved it back to rest on her shoulder.

  “Now, princess, don’t be grumpy. We just got here!” Daed grinned, knowing he was playing with fire but he couldn’t help it. The spark in her green eyes was just so endearing. Especially right before she tried to kill him.

  “Yeah, Kemo Sabe, we got stories to tell, don’t ya know!” Kimber stood, arms on hips, a wicked gleam in her gold green eyes, her bronze-colored hair in perfect spiral ringlets down to her butt. She was taller than Gillian by several inches, slender, but strong and absolutely fearless. Gillian was secretly glad Kimber was on their side. Her lovely former second in command had most of the components of a garden-variety sociopath but fortunately had an ironclad conscience to go with her lethal skills.

  Gill grinned at both of them. “Look, I’d love to sit around and do nothing but have a beer and shoot the shit with my friends but I’ve got a patient waiting. Go on up to the house, Helmut will have some confidentiality forms for you to sign. He decided to bring the patients here instead of me traveling around, so we have the Rachlav Institute of Paramortal Healing.” She shrugged helplessly. “It works so far.”

  “Very nice,” Daed said, smiling, still rubbing her shoulder lightly. “Can you use a good shrink?”

  “Actually, yes, we can. I’ve got a Sluagh in there with some serious paranoia issues and I think it needs medication.”

  Daed’s grin broadened. “Well, you need a psychiatrist on staff if you’re going to run a legitimate clinic, so I’ll be happy to lend my services.” He leaned in a little toward Gillian and murmured to her, “In whatever capacity you need, darlin’.”

  “Cut it out, you egotistical fuckwit!” Gillian shoved him hard enough to stagger him.

  Daed grabbed her extended arm and jerked her to him, dipping his body forward to catch her in the midsection and tossing her over his shoulder. Sword clanging against his side where she couldn’t get it, he swatted her playfully on her black-clad derriere.

  Jenna and Kimber were not helping; both were leaning on each other giggling. Great. Just great. Too bad she’d forgotten her gun; she could have used it to shoot herself. Note to self: Always bring gun and bullets.

  “Now settle down, puddin’. I’m just playing with you.”
Daed’s Southern charm was wearing very thin.

  “Gee, Daed, I didn’t know you were into Freudian kink. You really should have that little quirk examined further . . . ‘Daddy.’ ” Gillian’s acid-laced voice zinged like the proverbial directional arrow and burned a little hole in Daed’s ego.

  He set her down in front of him and purred, “If I were into Freudian kink, dollface, I’d have tanned your butt more than once a long time ago for being a smart-ass.”

  “Right. Well, I’m a competent smart-ass, which is why you adore me. Now I’ve got a patient to see. So go fuck off or do whatever it is you do and poke some holes in people with your needles or invent a new psychoanalytic theory. I’m busy.” She didn’t back off or down but faced him squarely.

  He gave her a mock salute and wheeled off, Jenna and Kimber following, still giggling and waving. Gill flipped them both off, which sent them into more gales of laughter as she turned back to the guesthouse, hopefully to finish what she’d started and do her nightly session with Perrin.

  Perrin, who she didn’t know had watched the entire scene from the window, was afraid that his physical appearance would make things worse if he ran out to save Gillian from that man who had hit her. He loathed himself more in that moment than he had in years and was furious with Gillian for her seemingly calm reaction to that ruffian. Did she like that? Did she expect him to behave like that?

  She moved purposefully up the porch steps and to the door, adjusting her sword and hanging her gauntlets back on her belt. When Perrin opened it before she could knock, she was surprised, then embarrassed. “Good evening, Perrin. Guess you saw all that, didn’t you?”

  The tall, handsome man in the mask looked positively grim as he took her upper arm and literally marched her into the room, to the couch, anger clearly in the rough musical voice. “Is that what you want of me, Dr. Key? Do you want me to learn to manhandle a woman? I’m part Gargoyle; I have the capability of being brutal, I am told.”