The Vampire And The Highland Empath (14 page)

Edeen looked from Alex to Judith, a strange floaty sensation cresting over her essence as Roque guided her from the partitioned room.

Chapter Seventeen

She wanted to check on Margaret and Thomas and after all Edeen had lost, Roque wouldn’t deny her anything.

His heart squeezed, watching her with the children, giving them reassurances, praising their courage. Her face crumpled when they asked if the
Luftwaffe
would come back.
 
Edeen didn’t coddle, but told them she didn’t know. She kissed each head and left the children to the Infirmary’s care.

They walked along the silent streets, neither felt like talking. The full moon cast eerie light upon battered shells of buildings as well as entire blocks that had been left untouched.

Late, there were very few people out, most hunkered down in railway tunnels or spending the night within their pre-fabricated Anderson shelters. A few Air Raid Protection wardens were out, some of the gremlins they’d worked with earlier remained on the streets, casting wary glances up at the sky.

Edeen stumbled and Roque caught her elbow, aware that she didn’t share his or the gremlins’ keen eyesight and with the black materials covering all windows and doors and dull black tape covering every reflective surface from iron trim on the unlit street lamps to the shine of bicycle bells, even in the moonlight, she’d have trouble seeing obstacles.

At least she had on some damn shoes. Guilt rose in Roque’s chest over that.

He took her hand in his, moving onto Bakers Brae toward the rail station. The sooner he ensconced her in Glasgow, the better.

Then what?

He wasn’t simply going to deliver her to the powers-that-be, that was for damn certain. She would not be a pawn or weapon, even for the Allies. Military Intelligence could decipher their own bleeding codes.

She was under his protection now. He’d take her to his mother’s people if he had to.

An entire coven of vampires could bloody well keep her safe.

Or they could go to the Americans, though he doubted the yanks would remain neutral in this war much longer. Roque squeezed her hand. Whatever they did, he wasn’t leaving her.

Mate
, the dragon purred and Roque didn’t push the thought aside. Whatever this was between them, this pull, he was utterly hers.

He stopped and took both her hands. Her expressive face angled up toward his.

“Edeen…?”

Her pulse pounded a rhythm straight to his heart, steady and strong, like she was. His blood burned to take her. Fire exploded in his belly, radiating through him. His palm dragged into her hair, cupped the back of her head and brought her to him. Warm lips pressed to cool lips and the world tilted, spinning away. Fire blanketed his soul, threatening to burn, burn, yet his focus filed down to Edeen, her lips, her soft skin, giving everything she was to him and the dragon cooled, pacified, enthralled by the woman’s touch. Her taste. Her smell.
Mate
.
His
.
Treasure
. The serpent would never touch her in flame.
 

Roque nearly wept with the miracle of Edeen.

And an air raid siren pierced the quiet. The world tilted back to reality.

Frozen, they jerked their gazes to the sky.

The first bombs dropped. The heavy stuttering drone of planes boomed overhead. The sky grew red. Up the street, the Ardgowan Distillery took a direct hit. The ground vibrated through the soles of their shoes and incendiary bombs dropped like glittering streamers of light in the black sky. More booms and blossoms of red.

Wine from the distillery ran down the street on fire—a bright beacon for the planes searching out targets. With this much flame, the pilots most likely believed they hit on something huge, like the gasworks or shipyards.

“We have to get off this street!” Roque practically yanked Edeen into moving. Liquid fire lashed out at their heels. Not fast enough, Roque scooped Edeen up and soared like the dragon he was, feet barely slapping on the pavement.

Anti-artillery whistled into the sky. Search lights swept dark underbellies of planes, wave after wave. There were hundreds.

An incendiary bomb slammed down ahead of them, spouting fire, ready to catch on anything that burned.

Setting Edeen down on the run, Roque dove over it, slapping out flames with his hands. The sleeves of his shirt caught on fire.

“Roque!” Edeen screamed for him, a knife of fear he hadn’t heard in her tone before.

He spun just as a claw lashed out at him.

Already low, Roque rolled to his shoulder and came up swinging.

Geschopf was here? How was Geschopf here?

Wulf took the hit, staggering back.

Air whooshed behind him and there were twin thuds. Roque felt the much slower pulses of vampires as they dropped from the church roof behind him.

Another dropped near Edeen and a fourth strolled out from behind the burning distillery.

Geschopf smiled and Roque was a vulnerable child again, heart squeezed so tight in his chest that it would tear out of his ribcage.

Geschopf stepped toward him. “I will always—“

Roque didn’t give him a chance to finish, but instead swirled, slamming the side of his arm into the closest vampire’s throat. He dropped like a stone and the second vampire flew into Roque, hauling him backwards, feet dragging across pavement until he slammed into a wall. His head rocked forward and the vampire started pounding his chest. Face. Ribs.

Growling, Roque struck back. Up under the chin, another to the belly. Grabbing the vamp’s head, he twisted, kicking his feet out from under him and the vampire twisted in a grotesque somersault. A close explosion ripped him off his feet. A building a street over, sugar factory, exploded. Flames flashed in all directions, orange and blue. Burning sugar.

On his stomach, Roque shook his head, disoriented. He heard Edeen screaming his name. He pulled to his hands and knees.

Geschopf was also rousing. Still on their feet, the vampires held Edeen between them. She struggled frantically.

Fury roared through his veins.

He lunged up to take back what was his.

Geschopf leapt in his way, shoving so hard, Roque flew back, hitting the ground with jarring force.

“Take the girl to the boat,” Wulf barked out. His eyes reflected gold in the light of the burning city. “I’ll see to this one.”

Roque came off the ground like a sprinter, lunging after the vampires dragging Edeen away.

Something slammed into his side, sliding him across the ground. The blond vampire again.

They took Edeen.

He didn’t have time for this. He kicked, he punched, he let his fury fire every hit. Flames erupted across his skin. Someone was screaming, the vampire? Trying to get away, but Roque was beyond mercy.

“Yes, yes!” Geschopf’s voice echoed as though in a hollow cave. “This is who you are, what I have made you. Extraordinary. Powerful.”

Roque stopped, shocked. The unconscious vampire hung limp in his bloody hands, clothes on fire, blond hair singed to blackness.

“No,” Roque gritted out and dropped the vampire to the ground. He squelched his flames out. “No.”

“You’re a magnificent creature, Roquemore. Unique to the world. Do not waste what you are.”

Roque grunted, and looked down at the burning vampire. “To destroy? Is that the summation of a creature’s worth?”

Geschopf raised his fist. A vein bulged in his forehead. “To live fully! I’ve given you a divine purpose, Roquemore—the control to tap into your full potential. You have strength and power never before known. Cease holding back. Embrace the dragon!”

“For you?” Roque straightened to his full height, hatred for this man, this monster, flaring, boiling heat in his stomach.

Fire danced behind Geschopf, casting his wide arrogant stance in orange and reds. Roque turned away, no longer a young boy, no longer afraid.

“Roquemore!”
Die Schwarze
Klaue
roared. An eerie sound crackled across the air, like the scraping of scales dragging across bark.

Roque twisted back.

Bones. The reshaping of bones and muscle. Geschopf’s flesh was tearing apart, blood and sinew dripping in soupy ropes as scales, shiny and slick emerged. Clothes burst at the seams, unable to hold the growing mass of muscle and chest.

Wings unfurled.

Roque stared into the lengthening snout and glittering golden eye just before the dragon launched at him.

Chapter Eighteen

The world was noise and flame. Edeen pulled against the vampires dragging her from Roque. Their grips on her arms were too strong. She screamed at them, stomped on their feet.

One of those small bombs meant to catch things on fire dropped several yards away, immediately sprouting flame.

Jerking, one of the vampires loosened his hold and Edeen yanked her arm free, raising it to his chest.

The other grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back.

“
Nein
, none of that,
Fräulein
.” Cold breath whispered across her ear.

The vampire facing her looked from his chest and back to her. His lips rolled back in a snarl, pulling away from sharp incisors. A feral gleam shot thought his gaze.

A bomb dropped directly onto his head, throwing Edeen and her captor back. He burst into flame.

Fire blazed off the fallen vampire.

Dazed, Edeen lay on her back, across the other vampire.

Bleeding hells
. Rolling off him, she scrambled to her feet and ran.

In a blur, the vampire cut her off, grabbing her arm as he jerked to a stop.

There was a sharp crack and she nearly went blind with pain. Her own scream echoed distantly in her head. Her arm, her arm.

Vision clearing, she lifted her face to the vampire. He looked as shocked at what he’d done as she was.

And Edeen risked the opportunity, slamming her palm and her essence into his chest.

They both went rigid.

Her gift was a chaotic riot, streaming through the man’s emotions like a runaway steed.

Edeen felt herself whimper, pain erupted behind her eyes.

Fierce images and emotions rammed into her, powerful, ugly, enhanced by hate and fear. Torture. Geschopf’s laughter as the Black Claw abused this vampire, as he had Roque, creating an army of obedient unquestioning supercharged magical soldiers. Geschopf’s techniques were gruesome, brutal, punching into Edeen. She had to get control of her gift or ‘twould be her who was lost to this terror.

Judith said the fullness of her gift was just beneath the surface…

With all that she was and ever had been…daughter, sister, guardian…empath, Edeen went deep, reaching for her gift, seeking the flow of essence uniquely hers.

As she pulled back into herself, she felt the vampire push, ripping her out of his memories. He was strong, fighting for his life as well as Geschopf’s cause. Geschopf, his torturer, as loyal and obedient to him as a beaten dog to its master.

Pride swelled within her that Roque, having endured more from Geschopf than this vampire, had not let himself be destroyed.

The Black Claw had not broken Roque’s spirit.

Neither would she be broken.

Her gift pulsed before her, wild and unleashed, whipping out like streaks of flaring lightning, dangerous and lethal.

The vampire pushed her to the edge, strengthening.

…and Edeen soared, shot her essence to her core and grabbed onto her gift. Hers.

She held on, taming, pulling, and guided it back to the vampire and his horrendous fears. She shied from them, and then lowered her head and pressed on, sifting through the awful, awful tortures until she found one to use.

Geschopf was a monster.