Good, the Bad, and the Vampire (9 page)

Trixie stilled when his eyes met hers and something in her belly fluttered with awareness. There was so much she wanted to say to him but all of the words were jumbled in her weary brain. Dakota picked up the stone gargoyle, hoisted it effortlessly onto his shoulder, and strode to the door. He paused for a moment in the open doorway before glancing over his shoulder at Chelsea.

“You're her mama, Trix,” Dakota said quietly. “There's no bond on earth more special than that.”

His tall form disappeared down the hallway and around the corner, leaving Trixie alone with her daughter once again. Lying by Chelsea's side, she couldn't help but wonder—perhaps there was one other bond worth exploring in her increasingly crazy life.

Bloodmate?

No. Trixie squeezed her eyes shut. That was the last thing she should be thinking about now. All that mattered was Chelsea's transition and finding the baby. They were her family—her real family. Her gaze skittered over the tattered and bloodied nightgown, and a fresh wave of fury bloomed in her chest. It was going to be challenging enough for Chelsea to adapt to the change when she woke up. How awful would it be for her to awaken covered in bloody clothing?

Trixie hopped off the bed and to the dresser in search of something clean. She settled on a pair of pink satin pajamas and then went to the little bathroom next door to get a towel so she could clean the blood from her daughter's healing body.

“Dakota,” she shouted from the doorway. “I'm going to clean Chelsea up and change her clothes, so give me a couple minutes. Okay?”

No need to shout, darlin'
. His sweet sexy drawl filled her head.
I have to finish off our ugly friend here and then I'll stand watch.

Right. It's been a while since I could telepath with anyone. It'll take some getting used to, I guess
. Trixie suppressed a laugh as she closed the door.
What do you mean, you have to finish him off? I thought it was dead.

A gunshot fired through the woods, and the shock of it sent Trixie to her daughter's side in a flash.

What the hell is going on, Dakota?

Standing in front of the bed in a battle-ready stance, she was about ready to scream when Dakota's voice once again slipped into her mind like a warm breeze.

Now it's dead as dirt
. He laughed, a low gritty sound that tickled her from the inside out.
Well, he's more like a heap of gravel. Leave the bedroom door open so I'll know when it's safe to come back in. Then I think you should lie down there with your baby girl and get some shut-eye. I'll stand watch in case the other fella comes back.

Do you think it will?

Maybe, but I doubt it. They don't get dusted by sunlight like we do, but it does turn 'em to stone, so I suspect he won't be a problem for now. But, if it comes back at any point, I'll kill it
. The steady, resolute tone in his voice instantly put her at ease. She had no doubt Dakota could and would protect them.
You'll be safe. Both of you. You have my word.

The baby
. Tears clogged her throat and the cold hand of fear curled around her heart.
The other one…it has Rebecca, doesn't it?

Silence stretched out, seconds feeling like minutes, before he finally responded.

Yes. But I swear to you, Trixie, we will get that baby back. Besides, if it wanted to kill her, it could have done that here.

Why would it take her?
Trixie cringed at the thought and went to her daughter's side.
What good would she be to them?

Ransom, maybe? Chelsea had somethin' they wanted but it beats the hell out of me what it was
. His voice was edged with obvious frustration
. I wish her blood memories weren't so damn foggy. I only got a peek at what happened in here tonight. I didn't see anythin' about her life before today.

Trixie's blood ran cold and she curled her fingers around the coin. Chelsea said that the gargoyle tried to take the coin but it burned him. Trixie nibbled her lower lip and debated whether or not to tell Dakota about it. Not now. She was too tired and all she wanted to do was protect her girl. When they got back to the city and Chelsea woke up, then they could hash it all out.

I'm sure she'll tell us when she wakes up
. Brushing a strand of hair off Chelsea's face, Trixie touched Dakota's mind once more. Saying thank you and swallowing her pride were two things she wasn't really good at, but there was no doubt that this guy was due both.
I don't know if I can ever repay you for this.

I'm sure we'll come up with somethin'
. A hint of humor laced his words and Trixie couldn't help but smile. The sound of his voice in her head was becoming positively normal, and she had to admit she was beginning to enjoy his teasing.
But for now, you just worry about tendin' to your baby girl. You and I will have plenty of time later to…settle up
.

Dakota stood in the bedroom doorway all day, his senses alert and his gaze almost always pinned to the two sleeping women in the bed. Not just any women. One was his bloodmate and the other his new progeny—who was also his bloodmate's biological daughter.

Fate was a funny thing. For a guy who never wanted to be tied down, he'd gone and gotten himself a family overnight.

He shook his head and let out a short laugh. It looked like he was beginning to fit right in with this weird city coven. He'd never considered becoming a maker. It was too much responsibility. A maker and its progeny were tied for the first one hundred years of the new vampire's life. He'd never wanted to be beholden to anyone else in that way. But then he'd seen the heartbroken expression on Trixie's face…and none of that mattered.

All he could think about was easing her pain. It wasn't even a choice, not really. Turning Chelsea was simply what he had to do to ensure Trixie's happiness. Seeing Trixie in such distress was worse than anything he'd endured in his life—vampire or human. Hell, Dakota would rather get shot with silver ten times over than see her upset like that ever again.

He moved closer to the bed, his gaze sliding over the faces of Trixie and her daughter. Spooned together, with Chelsea in the loving embrace of her mother, they looked so much alike. They had almost the same profile. The same upturned button nose, high cheekbones, and determined chin.

Granted, they looked more like sisters than mother and daughter, but there was no denying the family resemblance. A smile played at his lips because he sure as hell had gone and gotten himself saddled. For the first time in decades, he could actually build a home somewhere.

He'd never thought his home would be in New York City.

A dull throb in his gut told him the sun had begun its leisurely descent and night had started to yawn into existence. They'd made it through the day without any further sign of the gargoyle but he didn't want to linger around here any longer than necessary. He was going to fly Chelsea back to the Presidium as soon as the sun was down.

Trixie's question nagged at him though. Why
would
that gargoyle run off with the baby? The only answer he could imagine was that it wanted a hostage to use as a bargaining chip. But for what? What could Chelsea possibly have that those two creatures were after?

He surveyed the room, taking in as much as he could about his new progeny. She had simple tastes, and based on the way the house was decorated, she was frugal. They obviously weren't coming out here to rob the woman. She didn't have much to speak of. Even her blood memories showed little. Chelsea was a loner by all accounts, and other than images of the attack, he only saw memories of her boyfriend and her baby.

Looking around the room, he realized there were no pictures of family or friends. Come to think of it, he didn't recall seeing any out in the living room either.

His brow furrowed.

That was odd, wasn't it? Especially in this age of the selfie when most humans recorded every waking moment with their camera phones, it seemed strange that a woman with a new baby wouldn't have photos around. Combine that with her foggy blood memories, and all of the alarm bells started to go off. Hands at his sides, he scanned the wreckage in the bedroom. He had to be wrong about that. The woman had to have pictures somewhere.

That was when he spotted a pink frame facedown on the floor by the closet near a pile of clothes that had been torn from their hangers. Dakota scooped up the frame and turned it over, broken pieces clinking onto the wood floor.

Behind the shards of glass was a photo of Chelsea, smiling broadly and wrapped in the embrace of a man who was obviously her boyfriend. His hands were settled protectively over her swollen belly, and the guy looked as happy as one would expect him to be. It was exactly the kind of photo Dakota had hoped to find—but then again, it wasn't. As Dakota recalled one of the last images Chelsea saw before she lost consciousness, the smile fell from his lips.

Had he seen this picture earlier, he never would have offered to turn her.

Because if he was right, if Dakota did what he knew he would absolutely
have
to do as a sentry, he and Trixie would be over before they'd had a chance to begin. She'd hate his guts and he wouldn't blame her.

Fate was one sick, twisted bitch.

“Hey.” Trixie's sleepy voice cut through the room and yanked his gaze from the photo in his hands. He slipped it quickly into the pocket of his coat. “Have you been up all night?”

Dakota nodded but said nothing.

Trixie stretched her curvy, nimble body, reminding him of a cat working out the kinks of sleep. Desire stirred as she arched her back, the movement making her breasts heave toward him, teasing him with what he now knew he could never have. There was no way she'd want him once she knew about the task he was going to have to carry out.

He must have had a funny look on his face, because she arched one brow and said, “What's going on? You seem totally freaked out.” Worry flickered across her heart-shaped face. “Did something happen while we were sleeping?”

“No.” He set his mouth in a tight line and shook his head, her pale brown gaze locked with his. Unable to look her in the eye, and with the ugly truth clawing at him from the inside out, he strode toward the door. “Sun's down and it's time to go. We gotta move. I'll do a quick sweep of the area. You stay here with Chelsea.”

“Hey, hang on.” Rising to her feet, she glanced at Chelsea briefly before closing the distance between them. “Why do I feel like you're not telling me something? You're acting weird.” Her hand curled over his, stopping him dead in his tracks. She pulled him toward her, dropping her voice to that low smoky tone he loved so much. Her body wavered achingly close, so that her breasts brushed over his arm with painful brevity. “I mean weirder than usual.”

Dakota's guts twisted in knots. He had to tell her the truth—and he would. But not yet. He couldn't bring himself to spoil the long-awaited reunion with her daughter. No. He'd hold off and give Trixie at least a day or two of happiness. Besides, there was still a small chance he was wrong, and waiting would give him time to sort it all out.

Once he got them both back to the safety of the Presidium, then he could break the news to her if he had to. His chest ached as he noted that the hard edges of her face had softened. That wall, the one he so desperately wanted to knock down, had finally started to fall. She was doing exactly what he'd hoped and opening up to him. His jaw clenched and he bit back the surge of rage that threatened to bubble up at the injustice of the situation.

“We have to leave in five minutes,” he bit out.

“I know we should get going,” she purred, pressing the soft flesh of her body against his and fitting against him with painful perfection. She laced her fingers through his and peered up at him from beneath a fan of dark lashes with an unmistakable look of invitation. “But we do have a little time. Remember all that getting-to-know-you stuff we started out in the woods?”

Dakota bit back the growl of lust and frustration as his body hardened to the point of pain. Damn it all to hell. He had been a total fool for thinking that he could have some kind of a normal life. How in the world could he have allowed himself to believe, even for one second, that he could have a family?

He was a sentry. A killer. An executioner.

This coven of theirs might be able to operate outside the usual vampire community rules, but he couldn't. A sentry didn't have that kind of luxury.

In that moment, Dakota faced the cold, hard reality of the life he'd chosen. He couldn't pursue this bloodmate thing between him and Trixie any further. Not when she would surely hate him before the next sunrise.

“No time for that now.” He slipped easily from her grasp but didn't miss the flicker of hurt and confusion in her eyes. “You better pack up whatever you think she'll want to take with her, because she can't come back here until I hunt down the other one. I also want to bring her laptop with us. There could be something on there to help us figure out what they were after.”

“Sure.” The word slid between her lips on a hiss, and any softness in her features vanished in a blink. Trixie ran both hands through her blond-and-blue-streaked hair before cracking her knuckles loudly. “Whatever you say, cowboy. You know…for a minute there, I almost forgot that you're a sentry.”

“Me too.” Dakota squared his shoulders and nodded curtly. “But I won't be makin' that mistake again.”

* * *

They made it back to the Presidium offices in record time and in stone-cold silence. Neither of them said a word, which was fine with Trixie. She'd never been so humiliated or confused in her entire miserable life. One minute Dakota had been a caring, self-sacrificing wiseass with a clear desire to get in her pants and the next he was cold, distant, and with a sudden urge for celibacy.

She didn't know which end was up, and that was not a feeling she enjoyed.

Still in the transition sleep, Chelsea lay motionless in the examination room bed. The makeshift hospital room was adjacent to Xavier's lab, and up until today, it hadn't ever been used. The scientist flew back and forth between the lab and the exam room, taking blood samples from Chelsea and hooking her up to monitors. As much as Trixie hated the idea of her daughter waking up here instead of in her apartment, it was for the best. If the turn went bad, Chelsea would be in a safe place where they could handle it.

Trixie sat on the edge of the bed holding her daughter's hand and doing her best to ignore Dakota. He stood silently off to the right. She didn't have to look at him to know he was staring at her; she could feel his steely gaze. The wiseass cowboy was gone and had been replaced by a stone-cold emotionless sentry.

At least he'd had the decency to fill everyone in on what had happened and spared Trixie from having to relive it.

“I'm sorry, Olivia,” Trixie said in an almost audible voice. “I know I should've stayed away from her but I—”

“Stop it.” Olivia's hand curled over Trixie's shoulder and squeezed gently. “She's your daughter, and truth be told, I feel like an asshole because I made you follow the stupid outdated laws of the Presidium.” Her voice dropped to just above a whisper. “I can't imagine staying away from Emily for one day, let alone years. I'm the one who's sorry, Trixie. I hope you can forgive me.”

“It's okay.” Trixie fought the tears and nodded. “I know you were doing what you thought was best.”

“Damn, girl.” Doug let out a low whistle. “You sure can keep a secret. I cannot believe you didn't tell the rest of us that you had a daughter.”

“I wanted to protect her,” Trixie said quietly. “Not from our coven but from the others. I figured that it was safer for Chelsea if no one else in the community knew she existed.”

“And it wasn't my secret to tell.” Olivia gave Trixie a familiar and reassuring smile. “But you are gonna have a lot of explaining to do with your sisters.”

“I know.” Trixie swiped at her eyes. “Maya is gonna go totally nuts.”

Olivia directed her attention back to Dakota. “Do we have cleanup to do in terms of the humans? What kind of evidence was left at the scene?”

“It's clean,” Dakota said curtly. “No evidence of the supernatural left behind. Any human who finds the place will likely assume she was abducted. The only blood at the cottage was Chelsea's. There was none from the creature, and right now it's a pile of gravel in the driveway.”

“What a shit show.” Olivia's weary voice sounded behind Trixie's shoulder. “Gargoyles? They were the least trustworthy of all the supernaturals. Even the demons didn't want to deal with those guys. What the hell was she doing hanging around with them?”

“Chelsea didn't know what they were. At least I don't think she did. Her blood memories were foggy.” Dakota took one step toward the bed but stopped when Trixie glared at him. He held up both hands. “I don't believe she's a sympathizer, is all I'm sayin'. Xavier has her laptop, and he and Pete are going through it.”

“Still”—Olivia let out a weary sigh—“this could be a really messy turn if Chelsea doesn't know about the supernatural world. Not only that, but we've got at least one pissed-off gargoyle to contend with. For all we know there could be more of them out there.”

“Can someone clue me in?” Doug interjected. “I may be a czar but I'm still kind of new to supernatural craziness. What was the deal with these guys? I thought they were extinct.”

“So did I, babe. So did everyone.” Olivia pulled her cell phone out of the pocket of her black suit jacket and shot Dakota a narrow-eyed glance. “I'm wondering how our newest sentry has so much working knowledge about gargoyles.”

“That's classified,” Dakota said quickly. “With all due respect, Emperor Zhao is the only person I can discuss it with.”

“Oh really?” Olivia let out a curt laugh and folded her arms over her breasts. “Care to elaborate?”

“Not particularly,” he drawled. “Let's just say I've tangled with these assholes before.”

“There was one incapacitated when you got to the cottage?” Doug asked. “Not much tangling then.”

“It was.” Dakota flicked his icy gaze to Trixie briefly. “I meant before yesterday.”

“That's what I saw in the dream, isn't it?” Memories of the dreamscape came flooding back. “You were attacked by a gargoyle the night you were turned.
That's
what your maker saved you from. Why didn't you tell me, Dakota? That smell…oh my God! You
knew
a gargoyle had been at Chelsea's place!”

“Yes. But in my defense I had no reason to think it would be back. For all I knew, a lone rogue had only passed through the area. They have no territory, no home, and are basically wanderers. Have been for centuries.” The angles and edges of his handsome face seemed sharper at the mention of that night. “I'd been attacked by one out on our ranch. My maker, Jonner, found me and turned me. In return, I was assigned to help him with his mission and I was only too happy to oblige.”