Blood Legacy: Adult Urban Fantasy (The V V Inn Book 5) (5 page)

He pulls the powerful car to a silent stop across the street from the elegant townhouse steps. Every light on the block is ablaze, indicating the residents within are up and about, even past midnight—which is certainly normal for a group of undead.

“Just the foyer?” Rafe questions. “No farther? We leave the door open and whoever we talk to must come to us?”

“Yes, dear.” I have no intention of asking whoever is at the door to leave it open, like I’m a child afraid of the dark, but I agree to placate my husband. Which he should recognize by now, right?

We alight from the vehicle and make our way across the darkened road. Before we’ve gone ten feet, a familiar voice booms across the quiet street. “Vivian? Is that you?”

The vampire I nicknamed a wall of meat, George, calls from the top of the porch steps. He’s one of the few vampires I’ve ever met who makes Rafe look small.
 

“Yes. It is.” I try for a casual tone. “How’s it going, George?”

The large man rushes down the stairs to greet us, sweeping me into a big bear hug before I know what hit me. “I was so worried about you! Why haven’t you come by sooner?” He looks at Rafe and raises an eyebrow. “And hello, Mr. Vampire Slayer. The internal video feed caught
all
your adventures that night. It’s a good thing you know your way around a fire poker, eh?”

Rafe doesn’t respond, a small upward turn of the corner of his lips the only indication he heard the man.

“Funny how you were worried about me, George,” I say. “After the shit we faced that night… let’s just say it’s amazing your superiors aren’t gunning for us.”

He lets me go and ushers us toward the stairs. “Not at all, Vivian. You had to know what Coraline did was not sanctioned by the Tribunal. We have no idea why she behaved the way she did, or tortured you, but obviously you aren’t to blame. You’re the victim, the video clearly shows that.”
 

Not expecting such a warm welcome, frankly any welcome at all, I’m at a loss for words. Rafe trails behind us as we ascend the stone staircase to the front door. There’s no apprehension or warning bells in my head, like I felt a few weeks ago when we arrived at the fall party… but I still feel uneasy. Is there a surprise awaiting us inside?

“Did you really worry after all your years of service that you’d be in danger? You’ve got a lot of friends in high places.”

“And enemies, too,” I whisper.

George looks back at Rafe, his expression growing covetous. “Not anymore, thanks to your husband. If he wasn’t spoken for, you can bet there’d be a bidding war for the right to claim him.”

“Ha!” The short bark of laughter rips out of me before I can stop it. “That wouldn’t stop most of these bloodsuckers, as you well know, George.”

He winks at me as we step into the brightly lit foyer, high ceilings vaulting away above our heads. “You speak the truth. Best to watch your back where he’s concerned. Even the men showed more interest than I’d consider healthy.”

I nod my understanding. “Duly noted. Thanks.”

George takes our coats and asks who we’d like to see.
 

“Are any of the inner circle in to receive callers? I’d like to ask one of them a few questions.”

“I’ll see who’s in and willing to see you.” He looks at Rafe again, not hiding his own spark of interest in the quiet man. “You two know your way to the parlor. Please, go on ahead.”

Uncertainty tightens Rafe’s shoulders for a second, and then he relents, striding toward the parlor. Our heels ring out over the polished marble floor as we pass several sets of closed doors. I rest my hand on one of the door knobs and open the mental connection between myself and Rafe.

That was weird, no?

Damn skippy it was.
 

Did you get any vibes we might be walking into a trap?
 

No,
he responds, resting a hand in the small of my back to lead me in toward a grouping of couches and chairs.
But I’m not comfortable venturing to the lower levels or any of the back rooms.

Me, either.

Not sure I’m ready to sit, I stand near the roaring fireplace, its heat a welcome after the chilly autumn night.

We’re only alone a few minutes before the doors open again and the tall form of Persephone glides in.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Rafe

“It’s good to see you again, Dria. You’re looking well… considering.”

“Oh, you mean considering one of your
treasured
inner circle members tortured me for information I don’t have?”
 

Dria’s surprise at seeing one of the ancients instead of someone lower in the hierarchy seems pretty clear by her response.
 

Persephone hides a grimace. “We don’t keep them on leashes, my dear. You know that.” She shrugs one elegant shoulder. “Vampires are a pretty ruthless, back-stabbing bunch on the whole. Why are you surprised?”

I rest my hand on Dria’s shoulder, sensing in her thoughts the desire to blurt out exactly what’s on her mind. And that wouldn’t be good for anyone. Persephone’s next question confirms it was a good thing to make my wife hesitate.

“What were they questioning you about?”

Tension spills through our connection, even though my wife’s face remains neutral. The false concern I hear in the ancient’s inquiry makes it apparent that even though they may have had a video feed, there was no sound on the video to reveal why Coraline and Rolando abducted her.

“Does it matter? You saw what they did. Could anything matter that much?”

The ancient vampire tilts her head to the side while watching us carefully. “That would depend on the situation, I’m sure.”

Dria waves a hand dismissively, seemingly unwilling to answer the question. “What I really want to know is where Rolando is.”

The other woman straightens up at that. “Really? And what does he have to do with what happened to you?”

Confusion knits Dria’s brow. “I thought you saw the video? He was there. He got away.”

“I think you’re mistaken.” Sympathy crosses Persephone’s face. “He wasn’t in the room where you were held. It was all Coraline and Lucas who administered the silver and… the rest.” Distaste crosses her face, as if she can’t bring herself to talk about the numerous cuts and deep wounds inflicted on my wife hour after hour while she was questioned.
 

Anger begins to burn slowly in my stomach. I know what my wife saw because she’s had nightmares about it since that night, and I’ve seen it in her mind while I soothed her back to sleep. Rolando was there. But I can’t reveal how I know without making my wife appear weak.

Dria composes herself, smoothing her face of any trace of emotion. “Is that the story you’re going to stick with? Are you sure?”
 

Persephone looks away, toward the fire, her silence her answer.
 

My wife stalks forward, pushing into the other woman’s personal space. “He was there. I know it. I heard his voice and I saw him myself. Maybe he altered the recording.”
 

“There’s nothing I can do,
dear
.” She smiles, the look calculated and bordering on mean. “But you can rest assured, your husband’s life has been spared.”
 

Shock and anger radiate from Dria. In a heartbeat, she locks the emotions down, refusing to glance my way in reassurance of my continued safety.

Persephone steps deeper into the room, careful not to appear to be yielding to Dria’s advance, but removing herself from a possible confrontation. She glances my way, a blank expression on her face. “We’ve never had a human wreak so much destruction in the Seat of Darkness. There was a call from many for his head.”

Power pushes out from my wife’s carefully concealed aura, engulfing the three of us, expanding to fill the room. Tingles run over my skin, like a buzzing of insects waiting to swarm a farmer’s crops. “Anyone who thinks to harm my mate will have to go through me first.”

“Relax, Dria. Control yourself. Quite unseemly. Like I said,” she looks straight into my eyes, a hint of approval and interest in their depths, “he’s safe from retribution. It was—how do you say? Extenuating circumstances.”

 
“Your disbelief in my account of that night doesn’t change the fact I want Rolando—on a platter. I will find him, with or without your help.”

“Good luck with that. He’s been strangely absent since you were here last.” She nods toward me. “Your husband scared off a lot of our permanent residents that night. Many are seeking shelter off Tribunal grounds now.”

“Rolando has been gone since the night I was tortured here, where I should have been safe—and you don’t think that’s revealing of his guilt?”

Persephone stares down Dria. “No, I do not. Are you sure you don’t remember anything about what your captors wanted to know? Why they took you in the first place?”

“I never said I didn’t remember.”

“You didn’t? Then why didn’t you answer me?”

Dria moves to my side, returning the older vampire’s stare. “Isn’t it obvious? I don’t trust you.”

Quiet descends, blanketing the two angry vampires. After a moment, I clear my throat, not sure where we can go after a remark like that.

Persephone says, “Well then, it’s good to know where we stand with each other. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Not for now. I’ll be back when I get to the bottom of what the hell is going on.”

Dria stalks toward the parlor door, her body stiff with anger. Persephone calls after her, “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what you know? I can help.”

“Yeah, sure. ‘Cause you’ve been great so far. No thanks.”

My hot-headed wife storms out of the elegant townhouse, her furious steps echoing on the polished floor. I watch her, trailing behind at a slower pace.
 

“Keep an eye on her, Rafe. She’s liable to do something rash in her rage.”

I glance back at the ancient vampire and nod, not willing to trust myself to respond politely. Once she leaves, I track down George to retrieve our coats and ask after the bags we’d brought that fateful night three weeks ago.
 

Turns out, someone repacked our things and put them in storage. He retrieves them and I hustle out to join my wife.

When I return to the car with our luggage, Dria has cooled off a bit, pacing back and forth on the chilly sidewalk. I unlock the doors so she can enter, and place our things in the trunk, next to her bag from the airport. I slide into the driver’s seat and start the car. Tension seems to vibrate in the compact space.

“Want to talk about it?” I ask.

“Not really.”
 

The car pulls away from the curb and I direct us toward the hotel. “I closed on the house earlier this morning.”

Dria doesn’t respond.
 

“It’s not ready yet for us, but will be by the time Jon arrives tomorrow.”

This time she grunts once, indicating she heard me.

Determined not to let our strike-out at the Tribunal ruin our reunion, I tell her the rest of what I accomplished today. “I found out where Justin lives.”

She whips around in the car, giving me her full attention. “You did? And why didn’t you tell me earlier? We could have been at his place questioning him instead of wasting time with that woman.”

A grin tilts up one side of my mouth. “You didn’t exactly give me any time to tell you. Demanded what you wanted the second we left the hangar.”

“Dammit! You could have said something on the way over.”

“You were determined and didn’t seem open to listening to alternatives.”

“We’ll never know now, will we?” She fumes in the seat next to me. “Are we close? Can you swing by his house?”

“I think we should wait for Jon.” I check the time on the car’s clock. “It’s after two a.m. We can’t barge in on the wizard now.”

“He’s used to working with vampires. I bet he’s awake.”

“No. We’re not going. It’s late. We’re going to the hotel.”

“Just tell me the address and I’ll go while you’re sleeping.”

I squeeze my wife’s thigh. “Not a chance, liebling.”

The rest of our trip to the hotel is silent. Within twenty minutes, we’re in our room. I turn on the TV while Dria pouts silently. She doesn’t stay mad long, but I know enough to let her work through her issues on her own. She’ll talk when she’s ready.

While she’s in the bathroom, I lay back in the bed, hopeful I can entice her out of her funk with another round of lovemaking. Best to give her a few minutes before attempting, as she doesn’t seem receptive to my fabulous idea just yet. I flick through the channels via the remote until I find the news. Expecting a repeat of an earlier broadcast, I’m surprised by a late-breaking story in a nearby barrio.

Images of an attractive young woman in her thirties appear in the foreground of the screen, overlaying the live broadcast with ambulance lights and crime scene tape. In Spanish, the local newscaster informs us Sophia Delgado, a store clerk, was found dead in the alley behind an herbal shop. No leads have been discovered, and if anyone was in the area between ten and midnight and saw anything, they are asked to call.

Dria enters from the bathroom midway through the reporter’s plea for information. She listens until the segment is over and then turns to me. “I’m heading out. Going for a run.” She’s dressed in gym clothes, indicating she feels the need to burn off anger and tension.

“Be safe,” I call out as she leaves.
 

As the door closes, an irritated snort reaches me.
As if I’m ever not careful?

 
I refuse to rise to her baiting. She’s fuming and looking for a fight. And I won’t be the one to give it to her.
 

Waiting for a pissed off vampire to cool down is never a good way to spend your time. Instead, I opt for sleep, drifting off while thinking of all the small tasks I need to complete tomorrow to make the new house ready for our stay. She’ll either be open to make love again when she returns, her anger run out of her, or she’ll be tired and randy after she sleeps.
 

I know my wife well, and her desire to feed sexually is stronger than her need for blood. She had plenty of the latter while we were apart, but none of the former. She’ll come around soon. I don’t doubt it.