Vampire Dragon (23 page)
“My father,” Zachary said, “worked for them, so I got the job by default when I became a man—”
“But you are only a—”
“Ever heard of reincarnation?”
Zachary was born an old soul.
THIRTY-ONE
Zachary watched him closely, Darkwyn noted, so he
tried not to show his reactions.
tried not to show his reactions.
“Do you understand the concept of reincarnation?” the boy repeated.
“Yes. I find it fascinating.”
Shocking but fascinating.
“Tell me more.” Darkwyn waited, glad for a chance to listen and fit the pieces together.
Shocking but fascinating.
“Tell me more.” Darkwyn waited, glad for a chance to listen and fit the pieces together.
“I had a hard time stomaching my position working for the mob. I knew about every kill, and I don’t mean for food.”
“What job did you do?”
“Little bit of everything. I became the record-keeper, like my father before me, but soon they caught on to my inventive talents and I fabricated, well, torture devices, for lack of a better word, and for me, things got worse. Sanguedolce is ruthless. He’s got an insatiable taste for blood, and not to drink like vamps. He needs to spill it to get high. I started taking pictures of my inventions, and when I could, I took pictures of the bodies, to keep with my personal set of records, and I hid them away.”
“Sounds like a dangerous game you were playing.”
“When I got approached by the RCMP—those are the good guys, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police—I agreed to spy on the family.”
“That must have put you in grave danger.” Darkwyn wondered how Bronte and this twelve-year-old boy fit into a story being told as if by an adult, and someone other than the boy before him, but he could wait.
“One night everything came to a head,” Zachary said. “The family, also known as the mob—the killers to be precise—were on to me. That was the night I had planned to turn everything over to the RCMP. Bronte’s sister, Brianna, had walked in on me pulling the evidence from the attic rafters. She was nine months pregnant with, well, me—the twelve-year-old you’re looking at.”
Darkwyn sat forward, feeling a frightening tension radiate through him. “What happened?”
“They didn’t care that Brianna, soon to be my mother, was in the room. I was a traitor, they said, and though they never saw the evidence, which I’d slipped back into the rafters, they slaughtered me right there. Brianna witnessed my death and was so traumatized, she went into labor.
“I died a slow death, but I passed a split second before Bronte delivered Brianna’s baby. One minute I was looking down at my dead body, the next, I was in Brianna’s weak arms, being told how much she loved me. People who study reincarnation call the process from which a soul leaves one earth suit to enter another ‘ensoulment.’ Before long, Bronte took me from Brianna and held me while she cradled us both, and watched her sister die.”
Darkwyn swallowed hard. Here was a boy talking about witnessing his mother’s death at his birth.
Darkwyn had never known Brianna, but he hurt for what Bronte—his wife—must have gone through at losing her sister. “How and when did you and Bronte get away from them?”
“Oh, not for years. Bronte raised me as her own, but before long, she figured out that I knew things a kid shouldn’t. She told me to keep quiet, but toddlers ramble. After I wised up to the reactions I was getting from Sanguedolce and his men, I shut up. Most people don’t keep the memories of the people they once were, but I did, big-time. I built this coffin wheel with
his
knowledge, not my own.”
his
knowledge, not my own.”
Darkwyn squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “How does it work? Do you have two people in your head?”
“No, we’re one, but sometimes I act more like an old man than a boy, like after you and Bronte shared a bath. I wanted to punch out your lights.”
“Punch out—I have no lights. Explain.”
“Beat the crap out of you.”
“Oh, well, I can see why you would have the need to hurt anyone who hurt Bronte, but I would protect you both with my life. This I promise. Or you can punch out my lights, if you wish. I would let you. How long have you two been running from Sanguedolce?”
“When I was ten, I went digging around in the attic for the evidence my old soul hid. I knew it was there somewhere, and I got caught by Sanguedolce, though once again the evidence stayed hidden. For all I know, it’s still there.”
“You would be dead, if he saw it, yes?”
“Yes. At some point, he started asking dangerous questions, and once he started, Sanguedolce was always full of curiosity about me. Meanwhile, a rival family planned to take over the Sanguedolce family, and Bronte caught wind of it. I told her who to call in the RCMP—I remembered old Zachary’s contact—and a group of special agents whipped us out of there and got us across the border to the U.S., then they washed their hands of us.”
“What did you do?”
“Whatever Bronte told me to. She took it from there. She got us here on her wits and the money she stole from Sanguedolce.”
THIRTY-TWO
Bronte stole money. Darkwyn smiled. She stole from
killers to save her nephew. Bless the resourceful Vampiress; he adored his gutsy bride. “Tell me more about the old ess; he adored his gutsy bride. ”Tell me more about the old man inside you.”
killers to save her nephew. Bless the resourceful Vampiress; he adored his gutsy bride. “Tell me more about the old ess; he adored his gutsy bride. ”Tell me more about the old man inside you.”
“He’s an ancient soul, I suspect, a mystical traveler, through no fault of my own, and I mean that literally. Despite the fact he and I share this body, I’m comfortable in my skin, and tend to mock my double-minded self. Because of him, I’m well aware that I’m a fly speck in a universe too vast to imagine. I have clear priorities, specific intentions, and strong motives—staying alive, and keeping Bronte alive as well. Oddly enough, I seem to be growing older and younger at the same time, which can be confusing as well as exhilarating.”
“You handle it well. I’m not sure I could.”
“If you’re telling the truth, dragon man, I should think that you’d understand me better than anyone.”
“You’re right. I could and I do handle pretty much the same. I went from being a centuries-old dragon to being a man in his, I don’t know, late twenties/early thirties?”
Zachary examined him and then raised both shoulders. “Beats me. I’m only a kid, but speaking for the old man in me, life is a roller coaster. I feel happy and guilty to be alive, but horrendously sorry that my memories got Bronte in this kind of trouble. I wish I’d shut up as a kid, like she told me, but hey, I didn’t know better.”
“I can relate.”
“Earlier I was especially sorry because my actions forced her into marrying you to save us, but I’m rethinking that. Don’t get cocky, now. I haven’t decided yet whether to be glad or sad about this turn of events.”
“Just know, I’ll do my best to keep you both alive, so you can be glad we got married.”
One nod. “Appreciate it.”
“It occurs to me,” Darkwyn said, “that both our memories got Bronte in trouble.”
Zachary seemed taken aback. “Ah, you’re right. So they did. Are we somehow karmically related, do you think?”
Darkwyn ruffled the boy’s hair. “Not unless I reincarnated from your centuries-old, hundred-or-more-great-grandfather.”
“Not bloody likely. Though, the Sanguedolce family is basically from Rome, way back, I wasn’t related to them.” Zachary looked down at the view. “I love seeing the world change from up here. If it weren’t for my quizzical nature and thirst for knowledge, I’d probably have lost my mind by now. I’m incurably nosy, philosophically inclined, and I value intelligence more than most.”
Zachary gave him a bold eye to eye. “Which is one of the reasons I grudgingly like you, by the way. I haven’t had such a great sparring partner in years.”
“Your irreverence amuses me,” Darkwyn said. “And it is new for me, sparring with words. In my first life as a human, when I sparred, I used weapons.”
“Well, I prefer words over weapons, wisdom with wit, and constancy above all. If I didn’t think you intended to give Bronte your fidelity, you’d have the stepgrandson of a mobster to answer to. And I mean in every
bloody brutal implication
you can imagine.”
bloody brutal implication
you can imagine.”
“You have a cynical streak that I find admirable, and frightening,” Darkwyn admitted. “I may be ancient but my mind is fertile, and my love for Bronte is genuine and deep.”
“Hurt her, and I know a guy,” Zachary said with brutal honesty. “Vile, but I was brought up to think that way. Is it my choice? No. Is Bronte my life? Yes.”
“Was that a threat? My earth vocabulary covers only about two-thirds of everything you said.”
“I think you underestimate yourself. But you’ll look it all up tonight. Well, maybe not tonight, because you have a honeymoon to look forward to.”
Darkwyn’s elation over the prospect was short-lived. He suddenly sat forward, unease washing over him. “Is that Raven Shadow talking to Bronte?”
“Yeah, looks like she’s congratulating her.”
“Black smoke!” Darkwyn tried to stand in the moving coffin wheel, but he was locked down. “Bronte,” he shouted. “Bronte!”
She waved and so did Raven Shadow.
“What’s wrong?” Zachary asked.
“Raven Shadow is dangerous. Jagidy is smoke testing her and the smoke is black. See the way Bronte is edging away? She sees the smoke and knows its meaning: danger.”
“Raven Shadow could be one of Sanguedolce’s mobsters.”
Darkwyn pushed back the crash bar, their coffin seat swaying precariously.
“Are you going to jump? I mean, I hear you have a leap, but we’re ninety feet above the ground.”
In his anger and panic, Darkwyn began to morph into a dragon faster than he anticipated, and if he didn’t get off this ride soon, he would crush it beneath his weight.
He lifted Zachary like a babe in arms and leapt to the roof of the Phoenix. That distracted the people down below, even Raven Shadow. “Zachary,” Darkwyn said, setting the boy down. “I’m about to lose my ability to speak, so watch me for signals. As soon as I’m a dragon, I want you to get on my neck and latch on to a horn, or whatever you can, even if it’s a hunk of skin or a handful of scales. I won’t talk, but I will fly, so keep your head down and stay close to my body. You won’t hurt me and I won’t hurt you. I’m going to get you and your aunt out of here.”
“No news vans out front for the first time today,” Zachary said. “Luck might be on our side, because you’d make a hell of a news item.”
Darkwyn nodded. His voice was going, but Jagidy’s smoke had paled, which meant that Raven was no longer focused on evil. Good, that would buy him time. He leapt, again, carrying Zachary to the far end of the roof, away from the watching crowd. He crouched low as his final transformation was about to take place.
Pain shot through him, his wings stabbing through their muscle sacs, his hands growing nubby and clawlike.
“Whoa,” Zachary said, backing up almost too far.
Darkwyn swiped the teetering boy off the edge of the roof and gave him a little shake for his carelessness.
“R-ride you, right,” Zachary said. “Boy, I’m glad I got to see this.” He scrambled around to try and climb on.
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