Allegiance (The Penton Vampire Legacy) (28 page)

  
CHAPTER 34
  

T
he crunch near Cage’s left ear was impossibly loud. He didn’t hear things during daysleep. What would he hear during daysleep?

“You damn fools won’t even let me have the pleasure of shooting you, either one of you.”

Cage wanted to open his eyes, see the source of that voice. He’d heard it before, but why was he hearing it during daysleep?

“Guess I better make sure. Here’s that goddamned sonofabitch Aidan Murphy. This one’s for seducing my son away from the life he was meant to have.”

A gunshot echoed, and Cage’s eyes shot open. The wreck. Matthias.

Why couldn’t he see?

He didn’t dare move but rolled his eyes from side to side, then up, then down, focusing in on a sliver of light from the vicinity of his feet.

“And this is for stealing my freedom and putting me in a position to be a victim of that motherfucking Frank Greisser.”

Another shot.

Fuck fuck fuck.
He was shooting Aidan. Why can’t I see? Why can’t I move my arms?

I’m trapped.
The chill of an ice cube rolling across his skull signaled the onset of panic. He automatically began the litany he’d learned from his own psychiatric textbooks.
I’m not going to die. I’m not trapped forever. It’s just temporary. Think about Aidan. Think about the Queen. Think about the sonofabitch who’s out there shooting your friend.

He opened his eyes again and studied the sliver of light. Something moved, casting a shadow. He was pinned under something, probably part of the car. His legs were free.

“And Cage Fucking Reynolds. You weren’t supposed to be driving, you backstabbing bastard. But you got yours anyway, didn’t you? You deserve a little payback, so here’s for suckering me in, earning my trust, and then turning on me.”

Cage heard the gun before the pain registered, and it took every ounce of strength he could muster to grit his teeth and not move. The only chance he had of surviving, to save himself and save Aidan if it wasn’t too late, was to outlast this madman who’d just shot a fucking hole through his exposed leg.

“And here’s for that big, shit-eating grin on your face when you told me all about my death sentence.”

Cage had screwed his eyes shut, tensed his jaw, knowing it was coming, but the second blast hit bone and he wanted to die. But he didn’t make a sound. Didn’t twitch.

Not until he heard the sound of a match striking and the smell of sulfur and gasoline, an engine rev, tires squealing on pavement, and silence.

A curl of smoke reached him beneath whatever lay on top of him. If he didn’t move, he was going to die out here.

Cage gathered every ounce of strength he could into his shoulders and pushed his arms straight up. Metal, and it moved. With a great heave, it shifted, and cool air hit him like a caress. The smoke was thicker now; he had to find Aidan.

He struggled to sit up, shoving the crumpled hood of the car away from him and looking for the fire. It had fizzled but still smoked. He had time—but even if the fire didn’t get them, it would only be a matter of time before a motorist saw them and stopped.

He had to find Aidan.

In the shock of it all, Cage had forgotten about his legs until he tried to stand and fell with all the grace of an orangutan. Both legs felt as if they were on fire below the knee. When he sat up again, he saw blood-covered denim on the front of both legs, six inches or so above his ankles. At least Matthias had given him matching gunshot wounds, the old bastard.

He could crawl, though. Crawling was good.

Rolling to his knees, he hung his head and waited for a wave of dizziness to pass. Blood. He scented blood, and a lot of it. Thank God for safety glass that broke into nuggets instead of shards. It still dug into his hands and knees as he inched toward the strongest blood scent, but at least it didn’t shred him to ribbons.

Finally, he spotted a boot, a leg.

Holy fuck, Aidan had to be dead. Nobody could survive such a head wound. Even a vampire had limitations. His face was covered in blood; a bullet wound to his right temple was the worst of it, maybe crushing the bone around the eye.

Cage rolled to his side as another wave of dizziness hit him, sending the world into a sickening spin, He wanted nothing more than to sleep. To take out the package he’d wrapped memories of his little bird inside of, to remember it, enjoy it. Dream about it.

Stupid vampire
, she’d say if she saw him now.
Aidan’s your friend. Suck it up and help him if you can.

Somehow he pushed himself up on hands and knees again and crawled to Aidan.

“Aidan, can you hear me?”
Of course, he can’t hear you, bloody fool. He’s dead.

Robin wouldn’t let it drop.
Be sure, vampire. And even if he’s gone, don’t leave him out here for the sun to find him, or humans. Take him home to Krys. Take him home to Penton.

“You’re right, little bird.” He raised his right hand, waited a second to see if he could stay on his knees without both hands to support him, and he could. He reached out with tentative fingers that left a white trail through the blood covering Aidan’s neck and closed his eyes, praying to whatever God might hear him that there would be a pulse.

There. See, vampire?
The fluttering thump against his fingertips was faint, but Aidan was alive.

Cage thought he could drag them both into the stand of trees that filled the median near where the car had overturned—at least if he rested every few inches. After a couple of feet, he had to stop and rest. The ache in his legs set the tone for the rest of his body. Of course, the old bastard had used silver bullets. They’d need to be dug out. Later.

Groaning, he threw an arm around Aidan’s chest, hooked it under his arms and tugged. After a while, time meant nothing, and Cage’s mind was empty but for the need to slide one knee forward, then the other, pull Aidan with him, then repeat.

Finally, the rough pavement under the bloody heels of his palms hit cool grass. Wet grass. He wished he could roll in its soothing chill. At least he could rest his cheek against it for a moment. They were off the road.

Just for a moment, he could sleep.

  
CHAPTER 35
  

Y
ou tell me.”

Robin shook Glory hard enough that Nik pulled her away. “Don’t push her. Mirren being sick is making her sick. She’s doing the best she can.”

Damn it, she didn’t care. She pushed Nik away and got on her knees in front of Glory, who cradled a half-conscious Mirren against her and rocked and cried. Robin wanted the chance to do that for Cage.

“Where were they when Aidan called Krys? You were here. Where were they?”

Glory swallowed hard. “I’m trying to remember. Aidan called just after eleven p.m., and they were on I-85 just leaving Atlanta. I think that’s right.” She winced and pressed a hand against her temple.

“And how long after that before Krys started getting sick?” From what garbled mess she’d been able to interpret, Krys had the tightest bond with Aidan, so it made sense she’d be the first one to feel it if he were hurt. Robin still had trouble believing all that bond-mate stuff, but something was making them sick. “How long, Glory?”

“An hour maybe, or forty-five minutes. About that.”

Robin patted Glory’s knee and got up, edging past Nik. He grabbed her arm. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find them. And don’t try to stop me.”

Nik followed her into the bedroom. “I’m not stopping you. I’m going with you.”

Robin grabbed the pouch she wore around her leg when she shifted, stuck her cell phone inside, and strapped it around her ankle. Around her neck she tied a little genius thing of her own invention, a scarf that would unroll large enough to serve as a dress—just in case she had to make nice with some humans.

“I can go faster without you.” God, that sounded harsh. She looked up at Nik and whispered, “I have to find him.”

He smiled. “I know. Okay, then. I’m going to start driving. When you find them, call me and I’ll find you. If they’re outside, we’ve gotta get them in before dawn.”

She wrapped her arms around him, taking comfort in his warmth and the fact that he never, ever doubted her. “I love you, Niko.”

“Good thing. You need me.”

She couldn’t argue with him on that one. “Yeah, you right.” They laughed at the New Orleans-ism.

“How’s Krys?” Robin looked across the hall, where they’d put Krys on Nik’s bed. Both Mark and Melissa were sick, too, and Britta was in the subspace below Aidan’s house. What a fucked-up mess vampires were.

“Still the same. In a human, I’d say she was in a coma. I don’t know what the vampire equivalent of that is. And hey”—Nik squeezed her shoulder—“be careful. We don’t know who’s still out there.”

Yeah, Fen Patrick, for one.

On her way out, Robin noticed the small packet of cigars on her nightstand—she’d refused to let Cage smoke one in the house. She picked them up and tucked them into the pouch with her phone. He could smoke them all he wanted if he’d just be okay. Please let him be okay.

You’ve gone a little off track in your life to be bargaining with God, little bird.
She shook her head. He was talking to her, and he wasn’t even here.

She kissed Nik good-bye, took a final look at Mirren—a slab of pale marble, still and silent—and knew she had to save Cage and Aidan both if there was any way to do it. Somehow, in only a week, she’d come to love these people. Vampires. Whatever.

She undressed on the porch, shook her shoulders loose, and shifted, taking off northeast. The night was clear and cool, and there were no headwinds to fight. She’d alternate flying at about thirty miles per hour until she got a good burst of air, then she’d glide at a hundred twenty.

Staying over the tree line, she kept the interstate in her sights, diving low when she thought she saw a gleam of metal or glass.

Near the Georgia-Alabama state line, she saw it—what was left of Aidan’s car, overturned in the wide median near a stand of trees next to a steep drop-off. Glass littered the highway, and she saw a big rig slow down to take a look as it passed. The driver sped up and kept going, but chances were good he’d report it—if someone hadn’t already. She had to find them.

She circled the area, looking for a landing spot where she could be away from sight of the highway, and that’s when she saw it—a dark spot in the side of a low mountain, less than a mile from the wreck. A cave. If they were alive, she might be able to take them there until Nik could reach them.

Better not plan too far ahead, little bird.

Robin chose a spot on the other side of the stand of trees to shift, out of sight of both sides of the interstate highway, quickly untying the scarf and wrapping it around her in case the state police showed up. She’d have to do enough fast talking in that case without trying to do it naked.

The broken safety glass glittered in the moonlight and crunched under her bare feet without cutting her, and it seemed wrong that it should look so pretty, like crystals or diamonds. There was no one in the car. No bodies nearby.

But there was blood. And where there was blood, there was a trail. The predatory part of her liked the scent of it, wanted it.

The human part of her used it to find them, following a smear barely visible on the pavement, across two lanes and onto the grass. Just outside the tree line, she saw them and froze. They were so still, so pale in the moonlight. Cage was on his belly with an arm draped across Aidan’s stomach. Aidan’s face. That beautiful face . . .

You have to forget who we are, little bird. Follow your training.

She knelt beside Aidan and felt for a pulse, breathing a sigh of thanks when she found one, thready and fast but at least he was alive for now. What happened to all those bonded to him if he died? She didn’t want to know, not yet.

Carefully, she turned Cage over, again feeling for a pulse. She closed her eyes in silent thanks when she felt it, and that it was strong. He was in better shape than Aidan.

Now, to get them hidden before anyone arrived. Her instinct was to take Cage first, but she knew that wasn’t what he’d want. Aidan had to make it to ensure the others did and to ensure Penton did.

She slipped her hands beneath Aidan’s knees and back and lifted. Her spine protested, and her shoulders, but she managed to stand.
Piece of cake, Robin
.

“I’ll be back, vampire.” She stayed in the cover of the trees while another truck passed, going toward Atlanta, then hurried across the highway as fast as she could carrying a couple of hundred pounds of vampire. Her bare feet slid on the wet straw and leaves, and twice she fell, twisting to cushion Aidan’s head against her so it wouldn’t hit the ground. She didn’t need to add to the damage that had already been done.

Finally, she reached the cave, panting for breath, sharp pain stabbing through her lungs and against her ribcage. Bad thing about caves—reaching them on foot always required an uphill climb.

Robin left Aidan near the mouth of the cave, and since she’d already approached God, unsure he’d remember her or want to hear from her if he did, she pushed her luck and prayed there weren’t wildcats or bears in the cave who’d make a tasty snack of Aidan while she was gone.

By the time she reached the bottom of the hill and crossed the highway to Cage, a shrill siren of some vehicle coming up fast carried through the night. She hoisted Cage up and took off at a sloppy, off-kilter lope. “Sorry, no time to be gentle, vampire.”

She made it into the tree line just as the first flashing light crested the hill to the east, toward Penton. She’d had to sit down to catch her breath anyway, so she stayed put, watching through the pine boughs as a state police cruiser stopped and two officers walked around the wreckage. “Wonder what they’ll think happened to the driver?”

She didn’t wait to find out but managed to get Cage up and start moving again, relieved to see Aidan still where she’d left him.

Pulling her cell phone from its pouch, she checked the time. Damn it, they’d be pushing it to get them to Penton before dawn, but they’d try.

Nik answered on the first ring and was all business in his questions: location, landmarks, condition of the patients, presence of police. He’d gone into Ranger mode, and a good thing. Her emotions had ridden one too many roller coasters already tonight.

Now, they waited, she and her still, silent companions, their blood looking black in the soft moonlight. Which gave her an idea . . .

Robin crawled to where Aidan lay, and wouldn’t Cage be proud that she stifled her need to take care of him first and instead went to his friend? She remembered the night of the bonding, when Aidan had flicked that little blade across his wrist. He’d pulled the knife from his right pocket.

His pants were stiff with dried blood, but she’d touched worse. One would be an awfully sorry bird of prey if one got queasy over blood. Spiders? Another matter altogether.

She found the knife and, touching the blade to her forearm, made a small incision. She massaged the skin around the cut to get the blood flowing and held her wrist to Aidan’s mouth. Damn it. His face was so bloody that she couldn’t tell what was going in and what was already there.

Cage’s head injury was in the back, so she crawled over to him. “I told you you’d feed from me one day, vampire. Make it today. Please.”

She had to cut again—shifters healed fast, and a cut that small wouldn’t last long. The new incision needed to be twice as big, so she gritted her teeth and dug the knife in deeper and dragged it across an extra inch of skin.

Stretching out alongside Cage, she held her arm over his mouth, but the blood dripped on his face. “Damn it.” She sat up, thinking.
Idiot bird
.
Feed it to him.
She swiped her left forefinger through the blood, gathering as much on her fingertip as she could, and slipped her finger between his lips. Again. Again. Again.

“Cage Reynolds, we are going to do this until Nik gets here, so you might as well get used to it.”

Robin made another cut, another swipe, another finger between his lips. Once more. She pulled her hand away, but quicker than any movement she could track, he had grasped her wrist. “Cage?”

His eyes remained closed, but his grip was forged in iron. She reached out with the knife and made another cut, this time in the arm he was holding.

Cage pulled it to him so frantically that Robin toppled over, and he bit hard. The fangs hurt like hell going in, but then she forgot all about it as every neuron in her brain’s pleasure center went on overload. She let herself sink to the ground next to him, letting each pull of his mouth take her deeper, so deep.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?”

Robin yelped and tried to sit up, but Cage had her arm imprisoned with both hands, still feeding. “Who are you?”

A young guy, early twenties at the oldest, had come from the woods on the other side of the hill from the wreck. He was blond, flashed a lot of dimples, and had eyes that had lightened to a tawny gold. Vampire. But whose side was he on?

“Good God, Will, leave me in the ditch next time why don’t you?” A red-haired woman walked up behind him and smacked him in the head.

It finally hit her, who they must be. “You’re Will and Randa?”

Will cocked his head. “Intros later, little shifter. Where’s Aidan?”

“I see him.” Randa ran past them and knelt next to him. “Oh my God. Will, I don’t know. You’ve gotten sicker the closer we’ve gotten to him, and I see why. We’ve got to get him to Penton.”

“Jesus.” Will knelt next to Aidan, and if vampires could cry, Will would be sobbing. His lip was trembling when he looked up. “Who did this? Who the hell did this?”

Will asked the question of Robin, but it was Cage who answered. “Your father.”