Good, the Bad, and the Vampire (17 page)

“What the hell?” Trixie whispered. “Where did he go?”

“Son of a bitch.” Dakota took a few steps out from the shadows of the trees. “I guess knockin' on the door is out of the question.”

“No wonder I was sick when we were camping out here,” Trixie whispered. “The gargoyles were never extinct. They've been hiding underground all this time.”

“Mary said she thought that pyramid rock formation was on the west side of the Dome,” Dakota murmured. He glanced around warily. “That's on the same side as the ranch. But now that we know it's not too far from their hidden lair, I'm thinkin' it's not a great idea to go wanderin' aimlessly, especially with that coin in your pocket. For all we know, if we hang around here long enough or in the wrong spot, a hundred of those things could come flyin' out. I'd feel better pokin' around if I had more weapons with me.”

“I hadn't thought of that.” Trixie inched closer to Dakota and kept her gaze pinned to the spot where Henry had vanished. She fished the necklace out of her pocket and quickly put it over her head. It made her feel better to have that coin against her skin. “Thanks for that image. It's going to give me nightmares.”

“Let's go back to house. I'll get my gear on, and we'll see if we can find any more information in that book. Then we go huntin'.”

Trixie and Dakota sat at the computer in Hector and Addie's spacious living room and were careful to be quiet, not wanting to wake their hosts. Luckily they already had the book app downloaded on the computer, and it only took a few minutes to find what they were looking for.

“Got it,” Trixie said. She clicked the cover image and began to scroll through it. “Damn. This book is longer than I thought it would be.”

“That's alright, darlin'.” Dakota kissed her head and rose to his feet, then went to the window and stared out over the moonlit property. “We still have a few hours until sunrise.”

Trixie surfed for a while until she came to a section specifically about the state park. There were four pages of images, all unusual rock formations, but so far none were of the pyramid-like structure she had seen in her dream. She leaned back in the chair and laced her hands behind her head. Dakota was still staring out the window.

“What are you doing?” Trixie scanned the text on the next screen but none of it was what she was looking for. “Are you worried someone followed us back here?”

“No. I was just thinkin' about how much I've missed this place,” he said quietly. His tall, broad-shouldered frame was silhouetted in the moonlight from the window. Gone were the cowboy hat and faded jeans, replaced by his sentry uniform. Now though, with him decked out in that gear, Trixie could see shades of the human man he'd been years before. “It's part of me. No matter where I go or what I do, this will always be my home.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I'm grateful I had a chance to show it to you. Even if it's not under the best circumstances. I just wish we had more time.”

“We can come back.” A lump formed in Trixie's throat. “After this all settles down…we could…”

“Come on, darlin'.” Dakota turned around slowly and cast a serious but sad look in her direction. “You know that ain't true. I have some sins to answer for with the Presidium. Do you have any idea how many gargoyles I killed in the name of the vampire government? Not to mention what I said on the phone to Olivia.”

“But it's not your fault.” Trixie jumped to her feet and quickly closed the distance between them. She grabbed his hands and pulled him in. “You didn't know. Your maker lied to you.”

“Somethin' tells me that won't matter.” A sad smile lingered on his lips as he raised her hands to his mouth, pressing a soft swift kiss to her fingers. “Looks like it's a good thing we never completed the bloodmate bond after all. If Zhao does what I think he's goin' to do…my days are already numbered.”

“No!”

“Trixie, he can't let me live.” Dakota's voice was calm. “If word about this gets out and Zhao doesn't put me down, do you know how bad that would look to the rest of the supernatural community? He can't let a vigilante sentry walk free. There have to be consequences.”

She wanted to smack the crap out of him for acting like this wasn't a big deal.

“No way.” Trixie turned on her heel and stormed back to the computer. “I'm turning off this stupid computer, and then we are going to scour the west side of that giant freaking rock until we find that pyramid. I don't care if a thousand gargoyles come after us. If we find the gold, then you can give it back to them and make peace.”

“Girl, stop talkin' crazy.” Dakota's voice was calm and even and totally infuriating. “Just keep lookin' for some clues in that book.”

“Ugh.” Trixie sat down at the desk and glared at the stupid screen. “This thing is like five hundred pages long. The dude who wrote this must've really loved this town. We'll be here all freaking night trying to sift through it.”

“Too bad you can't use some of your witchy whammy to find it,” he said with a small laugh.

Trixie stilled, and as silence hung between them, he turned around and caught her eye.

“Why not?” A smile curved her lips. “It sure as hell couldn't hurt.”

“I was kiddin'.” He smirked.

“I'm not.” She cracked her knuckles. “I'm game for anything and we're running out of time.”

Trixie placed both of her hands on the screen and closed her eyes. “Use my imagination,” she murmured. “That's what Isadora told me… Use my imagination.”

With sharply focused intensity, Trixie pictured the pages of the book flipping by at a rapid pace. She called up the memories from all those years ago…the rock with the glint of gold…the Dome looming the distance.

As the images in her mind blurred, she murmured over and over again: “Show me what we need… Show me what we need… Show me… Show me…”

A buzzing sound filled her head and warmth whispered in her flesh. As the humming and buzzing grew louder, an odd vibration flickered over her skin just before a sharp electric shock shot up her arms. Trixie let out a yelp and yanked her hands away, rubbing absently at the tingling flesh of her palms.

Dakota had whisked to her side and bent at the knees next to her. He rubbed her back gently and pushed a stray hair off her forehead.

“Woman, I thought you were gonna make the damn computer blow up.”

Trixie wanted to answer him, but she was far too focused on the picture that appeared on the screen. It made her blood run cold.

The caption above the picture read:

The Stevens Gang: This notorious crew was suspected of robbing several small towns throughout the west. Known for their lethal brutality and bloodthirsty nature, the quartet of killers eventually turned on one another. According to legend, they vanished after a violent public dispute. Neither they nor their loot was ever found.

It looked like one of those old tintype pictures, showing three men and a woman. The men were grizzled and rough, like actors from the old Western movies that were sometimes on television late at night. The woman with them wore the kind of dress common for that time, and she was snuggled up to one of the men on the end. They were standing outside a saloon, and as was typical for photos from long ago, not one of them was smiling. But all that paled beside the thing that caught the rest of Trixie's attention. The man in the center of the photograph, the one with the haunted eyes rimmed with sadness. He was all too familiar.

Gatlin.

Trixie didn't have to say a word. Dakota gaped at the screen with equal shock.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. Dakota and Trixie stared at the image for what felt like hours, even though it was only seconds. “It can't be.”

“I know,” Trixie said with awe. “It's Gatlin. The robbers, the ones who caused all the trouble back in the day, like some supernatural Billy the Kid gang or something, are the same assholes who stole the gargoyles' gold and killed their royal family.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dakota seethed. He pressed his finger to the image of the man on the right side of the screen. “That's the gargoyle who attacked Chelsea in the cabin.”

“It says here that his name was Franklin Southeby.” She leaned closer and read the other two names. “There's Gatlin's name and the other guy is listed as John Stevens.”

“That's not the name I knew him by,” Dakota bit out. Anger punctuated every syllable. Dakota moved his finger over to the man in the left of the image. He was taller than the other two and had a deadly gleam in his eyes. “
That
is my maker. Jonner.”

“Holy shit,” Trixie murmured. She quickly read the other name below the image, although her gut already knew who it was. “And the woman next to him is the witch… Pilar Rathbone.”

“They were all in on it together.” Dakota's jaw clenched and fury rolled off him in almost palpable waves. “And he wasn't huntin' gargoyles… He was lookin' for the gold.”

* * *

Dakota had never been this furious in his entire existence. He stormed out of the house into the night air, Trixie close behind. The sky, a deep inky black, was peppered with thousands of stars. That sight usually calmed him and reminded him how small he and his problems were, but at the moment, not even the sky helped. He launched into the sky, shouting his rage, and streaked through the night like a bullet. His body was rigid, every muscle taut. His whole life since being turned vamp was built on lies, deception, treachery, and death. That didn't change, no matter how much he ran all of the facts over in his mind.

His maker had been a traitor, a murderer, and a thief.

Please wait
. Trixie's voice, soft and pleading, drifted into his mind. Her silky smooth fingers curled around his at the same moment. She flew next to him, meeting his eyes when he looked.

Part of him wanted to keep flying until the sun came up, to allow the deadly ultraviolet rays to turn him to dust and put him out of his misery. He was a sentry who had lost his honor. What kind of a man was that? Certainly not one who could be Trixie's bloodmate. She deserved better than what he would be able to offer now. But staring into those beautiful brown eyes, and with the moonlight bathing her heart-shaped face, he could only do what she asked of him.

Hand in hand, they flew down and landed by a massive rock formation that resembled a house. Two huge rectangular boulders stood side by side, capped by an even larger one that looked like a roof. Two sprawling trees with low-lying branches curled around the sides, almost like arms reaching out to embrace the night. Hidden in the midst of it all was a small hot spring. Steam rose from the moon-dappled water, a veritable oasis secreted away from the rest of the world.

Dakota pulled his hand from Trixie's and folded his arms over his chest. He had to distance himself from her because he was a selfish bastard. He wanted to wrap himself up and lose himself in the feel of her, to forget for even a short while what a lie his life had been.

“Jonner must have been involved in the murder of the royal family,” Dakota bit out. “He was in cahoots with Franklin, Gatlin, and the Rathbone witch. From what that book said, they weren't limited to brutalizing gargoyles. He only turned me so I would help him hunt down his enemies and further his personal vendetta. Hell, for all I know he sicced one of them gargoyles on me just so he could turn me and use me.”

Trixie slipped in behind him, curled her arms around his waist, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. The gentleness of it almost broke his heart.

“How could you still want to be with me?” His voice was rough and strained, but Trixie tightened her grip. “I am a fool, Trix. Here I thought I was on some mission for the greater good and doin' the Presidium's work but I was a puppet for Jonner. He showed me the picture of the gold because that's all he was ever after. All that time, all those nights we were huntin'…he was lookin' for the gold. Son of a bitch. And I helped him.” He gritted his teeth and fought the self-loathing that swelled up like a wave, threatening to swallow him whole. “Why would you want to be with a man like that? I was a fool.”

Trixie slipped around so that she was standing in front of him, keeping her hands settled on his waist. The moon cast an ethereal glow over her porcelainlike skin, making her look more beautiful than ever before. More than the moonlight, pure love and acceptance glimmered in her eyes. Or was he imagining that? Was he seeing something he wanted to see instead of what was really there?

“Do you remember what you said to me once?” Trixie asked in a steady voice. “You told me that
we
are not the mistakes that we've made in the past.
You
are
not
Jonner. You did not kill that family or steal their gold. Dakota Shelton, you did what you thought was the right thing to do because your maker, the only vampire you knew in the world, told you it was. How could you believe anything else?”

“That's no excuse.”

“Maybe not, but it's reality. And now that you do know the truth about what happened, you are the kind of man who
will not stop
until he's made good.”

“It's not enough,” he rasped. Dakota cradled her face in his hands, carefully and gently as though she were made of fine china. “I don't know if I can ever make it right or if—”

“I'm not finished.” Trixie pressed one finger to his lips, immediately silencing him. He stilled as she ran her thumb over his mouth in one slow stroke. “I promised to tell you why I was afraid to blood bond with you. It's because I was terrified of becoming addicted—to you. I was scared that once I tasted your blood I wouldn't be able to shake you—that my every waking moment and thought would be consumed by the desire to be near you. The fear of addiction has ruled my world for as long as I can remember. But it doesn't anymore. Do you want to know why?”

He shook his head but said nothing. If he had any breath in his lungs, he'd be holding it.

“Because of the man that you are. The man that I know would do anything for his people, who always stands up for what's right. He's kind, loving, loyal, and gentle. Your hands may have been used in battle and delivered more deathblows than you can count, but these are the same hands that carve wooden ponies for two-year-old girls.” Her voice broke with emotion and tears glittered in her eyes. “And they are the same hands that have cradled the broken pieces of my heart, even when I pushed you away.”

“Trixie…” His hand drifted down and slipped around her waist, pulling her close. He rested his forehead against hers.

“I'm the one who's been a fool, Dakota.” She threaded her hands through his hair and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I couldn't separate addiction and love. But I know now that even if I never tasted your blood, it wouldn't matter.”

He held her there, her mouth painfully close to his, and the whisper of whiskey and mint rolled around him in the dark. Dakota wanted to dive deep and lose himself in the feel of her, but how selfish would that be? He lifted his head and pulled away from her, but she tightened her grip.