Blackthorne (The Brotherhood of the Gate Book 1) (7 page)

A frosted glass of Blue Goose vodka, straight up, stood nearby, accompanied by a delicate plate holding an eight-ounce tin of Iranian Beluga caviar, elegantly presented by his chef in a rose ice sculpture accompanied by artfully arranged chopped egg, sour cream, chopped scallions, and toasted slices of freshly baked baguette. The petite little chef would wet himself if he had any idea what his employer actually preferred for dinner.
But this is adequate
, Manius thought, as he lifted a wafer of bread smeared with an obscene amount of the caviar to his lips. Last night’s snack had sated his
other
appetite, as well as having served the purpose of slowly building the fear in the town, something he and his minions also fed on.

The lord of “The Castle” was dressed as well as his new home was, his sculpted body encased in Armani casual. He knew he was devastatingly handsome. He liked to think he resembled Michelangelo’s David—and he did, except for the weakness that showed around his mouth, despite his rich, full, red lips.

“Family reunions are such a bore…until the old wounds are trotted out and opened up for examination,” he said, smiling at the thought of his brother’s face when the girl started choking.

“Sir?” a voice asked respectfully. Manius turned toward his assistant, Troy Myers. The slim, blond Satan worshiper stood at attention nearby. Troy had been with his master for a few years now…after the boy and his girlfriend, Cassie, dug Manius up from his prison grave in Mt. Pisgah Cemetery in a bizarre satanic ritual. The couple had been attracted to his grave site because of the mystical symbols on the headstone that in reality held him fast in the ground’s clutches. A bar patron at the hole-in-the-wall bar Cassie worked at in town had commented on the gravestone one evening, noting that more graffiti on a grave would probably yield more valuables. In the times of the Gold Rush the dead had usually been buried wearing their valuables, a fact Troy knew and had already put to good use. He had plundered several other graves in the secluded corners of the graveyard.

The teens had been fascinated by the appearance of a fresh-looking corpse in the coffin of their newest treasure hole, its chest impaled with a large wooden stake. Wisely—or unwisely—the teens had withdrawn the stake…then watched with delight as the body healed itself before their eyes.

Manius awoke to find them standing over his coffin, chirping excitedly about someone named Bella and Edward. He hadn’t been impressed with Troy’s methods but had to admit the boy had enthusiasm. Plus a delicious girlfriend. After he slaked his thirst, while Troy watched in fascination and with tangible lust, he explained his ambitions to the piece of trailer trash from the mountains. The boy became even more enthusiastic and wanted to come along for the ride. A pet human was always a nice thing to have around, so Manius obliged.

They had to flee immediately from the Brotherhood
and
Blackthorne and Pearl, who knew the moment he awoke. His brother tracked him all over the world, arriving always too late, but still in time to pick up the pieces of whatever mayhem Manius had been causing or was involved in. Annoying his brother and causing chaos while waiting for the girl to return and bring him his prize was a fulfilling hobby for Manius. Pearl, being the realist she was, decided to ignore them both and wait until fate brought them together again. The skull hadn’t been found, and she had her own battles she had chosen, all of which amused Manius more than his brother’s pathetic flailing around. Neither had changed one iota while he slept. Their precious masters waited silently for the two to succeed or fail…he wondered if they even cared anymore. Eternity was quite the numbing agent.

Troy helped him to submerge himself into the culture of the times and at the same time had improved his own lot in the process. Now the refined man Troy had become waited as anxiously as his master for their reward.

“Nothing, my friend,” he replied. “This place makes me dwell on the past a bit much. Let’s go try out the new television and see what the Home Shopping Network is offering this evening.”

Both men walked together from the room, the servant discreetly walking a bit behind the master. The curtains rustled a bit as they passed, and Manius smiled indulgently at the small, greenish claw that clung to the exquisite tassels decorating the velvet window drapes, the owner of the paw hiding behind the length of fabric. Mud dripped down the drape to puddle on the floor.

“Troy, one of my ‘pets’ has gotten in the house without cleansing itself. Properly dispose of the disobedient little thing, will you?”

Troy pulled a specially prepared pistol, loaded with silver-tipped bullets dipped in holy water, from his holster and aimed it at the drape, pulling the trigger. A hideous shriek rang out and a pool of slime green liquid ran out from under the curtain to mix with the mud.

“Damn it Troy, now
look
what you’ve done to my drapes,” Manius said in a despairing tone, watching the puddle start to smoke. Troy, looking emotionless, walked over to the window, pulled the drape down, and wrapped the offending creature in it. Holding the bundle under one arm, he stood to face his master.

“You were changing these drapes, sir. Remember? You wanted black and gold instead of royal blue and gold?”

Manius nodded in agreement. “Of course, how could I forget? Blue. How can I be properly intimidating with blue drapes? It’s damned embarrassing. Get rid of that thing so we can entertain ourselves, Troy my lad. We need to take a few minutes to relax, because it’s going to be a busy evening.”

Luckily the end of the shift was near and the girls’ replacements were already in the locker room downstairs. Pam hovered near Rhi as they sat on the cold wooden benches in front of their personal lockers, dressing for the ride home.

Rhi finally exclaimed in exasperation, “Pam, you are going to knock me over if you get any closer. I’m fine. The medics examined me thoroughly.” She stopped for a second and looked at her friend a bit closer. “And where in blazes are you going in those?”

Distracted, Pam simpered around the room, modeling her form fitting leather pants. “Katie is at Mom’s for a few days so I thought I would hit the town. I should never leave home without a pair of black leather pants and stiletto boots. I never know when I might want to dominate someone.” She stopped prancing and caught her friend’s hands. “Go with me. We’ll burn this place down.”

“I think someone already did that to the entire town back in 1896 according to the book I am reading. But these jeans,” Rhi said, indicating her worn Levi’s, “are no match for that ensemble.”

Pam looked down her nose at the shorter girl. “You could show up in a paper bag beside me and everyone would look at you in awe, girlfriend. It is time to party.”

“What about Ellie Mae?”

“Let’s call Bobby Wayne. We don’t have time to go get the dog to barhop with us and I think he is a bit in love with her already.”

Rhi smiled weakly as she pulled her turtleneck higher to cover the bruises and blisters on her neck. The marks should have made her run screaming for the hills but she had felt strangely calm when she saw them in the bathroom mirror. Maybe after a few shots of
Tres Generations
tequila, all of this would make sense. Or maybe a few gallons. Maybe she was going crazy. But she was going to enjoy the ride, dammit.

Pam wasn’t kidding about taking Ellie Mae barhopping, a Colorado peculiarity Rhi relished tremendously. Many of the more “rustic” bars in the area welcomed canine companions.

Outside the double doors of the casino, it was a black and silver crystalline night, the sky marked only by innumerable stars and the hulk of the surrounding Rockies cutting through the sky like stone blades. Pam drew in a lungful of air as they stood on the sidewalk. “This air tonight is as pure as a virgin from Kansas at a Christian rock concert.” She gave a little impudent grin as Rhi rolled her eyes.

“I want to know how
you
have any idea what a virgin is,” Rhi demanded and then joined her friend in some welcome peals of laughter as they took off into the night.

Along Bennett Avenue the casinos were only partially filled, most of the vacationers and retirees having scattered back down Ute Pass to Colorado Springs the day before and the New Year’s partygoers gone with the morning light. The dinner hour left the brick sidewalks mostly empty, the lights of the gas lamps and casinos coloring the street a deep blood red. A wild burro ambled along, taking a sniff of the air. The animal’s eyes suddenly rolled in its head and it shot wildly down the street, fleeing the approaching shadows, startling both women as they walked along.

“Damn burros. I thought they would have sent them to winter pasture by now,” Pam snarled, her love of furry creatures not extending to the descendants of the boomtown pack animals, which were notorious for leaving “presents” in the street and begging for food by sticking their heads into open car windows. Visitors considered them colorful, but locals found them to be a nuisance.

“I think they keep them outside of town now…the tourists expect them to be here even in winter. Part of the ambiance…especially the smell of their excrement,” Rhi pointed out, indicating with one gloved hand a pile of manure nearby.

“Excrement? Can’t you call it ‘shit’ like the rest of us?”

They headed down a side street toward the favorite local watering hole, the Dancing Elk
.
A couple in full period dress strolled past, the gentleman tipping his hat in their direction. The woman had planned her costume perfectly, down to the tiny mink stole wrapped around her shoulders and the outrageous hat pinned to the top of her pyramid of curls.

“Those outfits were amazing.” Rhi looked back to examine the couple again, but they had disappeared already. “Where did they go…they were just here?”

Pam looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Rhi, if I were you I would try not to look too closely at people wandering the streets or buildings in this town with period dress on. You might get a nasty surprise.”

Confused, Rhi stared at Pam in disbelief. “Why on Earth would I get a nasty…oh, shit, Pam. Come on. Those people weren’t ghosts. I think you have been up at high altitude too long.”

“All I know is that periodically residents of this town see dead people. I personally don’t want to know too much about it.” Pam squirmed uncomfortably. She shifted her giant purse to the side to dig at the back of her leather pants, which seemed to be giving her an atomic wedgie.

“If those were dead people then I want to talk to them. Wouldn’t that be the coolest?” Rhi grinned impishly and started to walk in the direction of the mysterious couple.

Pam grabbed her by the arm and yanked forcefully, turning Rhi around to face the direction of the bar. Miffed, the smaller woman glared at her friend as she pulled her across the street.

“You got attacked by some kind of entity in the casino and now you are going to trot off after a few more? Let’s go get some warmth and companionship for now. I officially am changing the subject. Did you know that Colorado has the most microbreweries per capita than any other state? It makes a girl proud…” Pam broke off her praise of homemade beer in alarm as she watched a large panel truck appear around the corner going too fast, barreling straight toward Rhi. A large, scarred hand grasped Rhi by the back of her barn jacket, jerking her roughly out of the way and at the same time pulling her friend back by the handle of her purse.

Pam leaned heavily against a worn brick wall, stunned. “He jumped out of nowhere as fast as the truck did.”

Rhi once again stood gasping beside her dream man as the truck continued on its way, the driver oblivious to the damage he almost caused. She glared up at the stranger, who now held her arm in a grip of iron, meeting his sullen stare with her own. There was more time for her to take in his appearance
this
time as she tried to collect herself. He was tall, well over six feet and dressed in typical mountain garb: jeans, hiking boots, sweater, and a heavy suede bomber jacket. The clothes were expensive and the incredible looking man who filled them was muscular, filling the jeans beautifully. With the blazing blue eyes and roughhewn features of a warrior, he could easily be on the cover of one of the romance novels Rhi used to buy. She was furious, as furious as he obviously was with her, even though she had no idea why. Her hands were shaking with rage because of this pushy stranger and that anger frightened and confused her.

“I’m beginning to feel a bit paranoid when you’re around, whoever you are,” she said as sharply as she could manage without her voice shaking. Her arm burned from his touch even through her jacket, a flame that was spreading alarmingly to other parts of her anatomy by the second. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing here? And in here?” she pointed to her skull, which was thankfully in one piece.

“Unfortunately, I am charged with keeping you alive, which you don’t deserve.” He bit off each word as if it was an effort to speak to her. His deep voice set off alarms in her mind as it wound its way through her thoughts to curl up in a deserted corner of her subconscious. The look on his face was a curious mixture of anger and sorrow and something she could not define. He released her, turning on one heel to stalk away from them both. “You and Miss Douglas here might want to stay at home for a few days—it would cause me less trouble,” he shot over his shoulder before vanishing around the corner.

Pam was for the first time since Rhi had known her…speechless.

So am I
, she thought, still trying to catch her breath after her second narrow escape of the day. The worst part of this one hadn’t been the reappearance of her mystery guy
,
but the eerie laughter she heard as she was hauled up onto the sidewalk.

“Did you hear someone laughing?” she asked Pam, who was still gazing in awe at the retreating figure of Rhi’s rescuer.

“Was he hot or is it just me?” Pam asked, still breathless. “Did you see that butt?”

Rhi snapped her fingers in front of her friend’s face. “Concentrate, Pam. I think someone is trying to kill me. Or freak me out. And that guy has mistaken me for someone else because I’ve never seen him before in my life and have done nothing to make him act like such a jerk.”