Authors: Editor
Upon entering the cabin, Lucian gave a wink to André when he saw Duncan sprawled across Payton crushing him into the window. Lucian commented, “There is a sight for sore eyes. Can Payton breathe?” Concern crept in when he noticed Jonah. “What’s going on?”
Jonah answered, “I’m good. Just a stomach grumble. Lucian, we’ve got company on the train, but I guess you already know. Am I right?”
Lucian nodded. “Yes. Do you want to walk with me?”
“Let’s go.” On his feet, his stomach cramped like a woman’s in full-blown labor, and he bolted through the door. After a few tumultuous heaves, a soured puddle of vomit covered the floor and stunk up the hall. “Sorry.” Jonah apologized as he stepped over the mess and continued on his way.
André stepped over the puddle and said, “Mind the muck. I’ll go keep your wife out of trouble, Luce, but hurry back. She’s more than a handful.”
Lucian immediately thought, you would know, but said naught, piercing his tongue with his newfangled incisors. Now was not the time to bring up such matters. Then Lucian wondered, would there ever be a right time to bring up his brother almost getting full carnal knowledge of his wife, enthralled or not!
Lucian and Jonah swayed with the train’s jerky movements down the aisle in single file. The setting sun cast dusky shadows on people. Some of the passengers slept, while others chatted quietly between themselves. A few children sprinted up and down the aisles without care that they might disturb someone else. Oblivious to the children’s antics, their parents were probably happy to be rid of them for a short respite. Lucian briefly thought about showing the little wildebeests his not-so-funny fangs and watch them run screaming back to their seats, but then decided it was best to behave. Sometimes he found being an adult absolutely no fun.
Outside the baggage car Jonah whispered, “It is in here, Lucian. Do you see anyone you recognize or looks abnormal, anxious, or panting like a dog in the dead of summer?”
“You sure you’re not describing me?” Lucian flashed Jonah a quick smile. That’s how Lucian dealt with stress, humor first, and then if that didn’t work, then he’d get serious, or as serious as he could muster.
No deranged, psychotic serial killer jumped up to greet them or chuck them from the train. A few women actually flirted as they passed by, finding them remarkably attractive. Lucian enjoyed his new ability to read everyone’s mind. Before the attack, he was limited to his siblings and Serina’s mind. Now the world was his playground. So far, other than the
whole-have-to-have-blood-or-die-diet
,
Lucian found his new lease on life interesting.
Getting the uncomfortable feeling of eyes burning a hole in him, Lucian’s gaze was drawn to a man sitting next to the window in the last row of seats, watching him and Jonah with a menaced glare. The man was huge—Sumo wrestler huge.
“I think we’re at the wrong end of the train for food and beverages,” Jonah said with a slight tilt to his head in the direction of the man at the window.
“It appears so. Want some air? I believe the caboose is through that last door.”
Once inside the pitch-black car, Lucian bumped into Jonah then grabbed the door and held it to allow light to filter in. At a first glance the room looked like one giant booby-trap. Open boxes overflowed with baubles and beads. Trinkets of every size, shape and color threatened to spill out. Rolled carpets leaned against the walls at impossible angles. One wrong touch and they’d tumble like giant dominos. Suitcases were stacked uneven one atop another against the walls and there even sat a crate carrying two pigs, which began squealing when they realized they had company. Then, Lucian saw their treasure, tucked neatly into the corner, a black tin casket, with more suitcases strewn across it and a two seated tandem bike, both wheels flat, parked up against the side. Lucian’s heart picked up its pace.
“What if it’s just really a dead person, Jonah?” Lucian couldn’t peel his eyes off the casket. “Damn, I don’t want to sleep in one of them. Do you have your silver cross on?”
Jonah threw Lucian an unhealthy glare. “I don’t do silver anymore, Lucian. Remember, the whole werewolf-silver scenario? How ’bout you? You got your cross on? Oh, I’m sorry, you can’t wear a cross anymore, can you?” Jonah actually laughed at his snide remark. Then, remorse settled in.
What the hell is wrong with me? The man has taken me in, given me shelter and food even after all the events of the mountain.
Against all odds, Lucian showed he was a true gentleman, and Jonah was being a giant ass.
Lucian pulled his cross out from under his shirt and gave Jonah an empty smile.
“That’s impossible, Lucian. How?” No vampire he’d ever met had ever been able to wear a cross.
“Sorry, Jonah, you’ve had a few more years of practice at this way of life. Should we open the casket, or one of us stay here and keep an eye on it tonight?”
Jonah’s voice came out thick with sarcasm then. “And do I get to guess who’s going to babysit the box? I’m not back here for the night, Lucian. Send me some relief in an hour or so. I’m not the big bad wolf you all think.”
With that and remembering the tragic events on the mountain before he passed on, Lucian’s blood boiled. “I beg to differ. I know you saved Serina from Jasper and for that I’m grateful. I understand Jasper had you by the cockles, but you dealt with him in the first place. Correct me if I’m wrong, you made a deal with the devil, and now your payments are due.” Lucian’s temper continued to escalate. He backed Jonah into the suitcases. “And one more thing, wolf, as long as I’m breathing, stay the hell away from my wife. Don’t you ever think of taking advantage of her, ever again! Touch her and I’ll rip your throat out. It’ll make what Jasper did to me look like he was toothless.” Lucian waited for some reaction or response, but none came. “I’ll send Duncan back in an hour to relieve you.” Lucian squared his shoulders, turned and left. He didn’t know he could harbor such contempt or empathy for the man at the same time, but he knew he was right concerning his wife. Jonah would die a thousand deaths by his hands if he touched Serina.
When Lucian reached the boys’ car, he woke Duncan and Payton and asked them to join him with Serina. Both Payton and Duncan exchanged a tired, aggravated glance.
****
With only the sound of his heart slamming into his ribs to keep him company and darkness breathing down his neck, Jonah hugged his knees to his chest. If he’d shifted, he was certain his tail would be tucked between his legs from fear. What had happened between Lucian and him? For a fleeting moment he thought they’d all end up friends.
You’re a nutter, Jonah.
Everything Lucian said held truth and the truth hurt. So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t see the casket start to open with skeletal-like bony fingers prying their way out from under the lid.
****
“Duncan, will you go back and relieve Jonah? He’s in the very last car. We’re keeping an eye on a box.”
Duncan shifted a brow towards Lucian. “What kind of box, Luce? A small box?” Duncan spread his hands out about six inches apart. “Or a big box?” Again, Duncan spread his arms out a tad wider, apprehension covering his face. “What’s in the box, Luce? Or don’t I want to know?”
“Don’t ask questions you really don’t want the answers to.” Lucian never broke a smile.
“All right, I’m asking, against my better judgment. What do you believe is in the box? Should I be worried?”
“Yes, old man. There is a casket on the train accompanied by some man that is very big, ridiculously big.” Lucian spread his arms out very wide and attempted to smile. “He’s in the second to last car, and I believe he is a sentinel. The casket is in the last car.” Lucian paced the tiny room talking to everyone and no one in particular, explaining what he and Jonah saw. Attempting to sit down he found no empty seat, so he grabbed Serina, swung her in the air and pulled her onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and held her against him. With his face buried in the crook of her neck he whispered, “You feeling better, my wild rose?”
Serina gave him an affirmative nod.
Duncan commented, “You didn’t call us over to watch you two, did you?”
Lucian ignored him and purposely continued to kiss Serina.
Don’t start something with me you can’t finish now, dear husband.
What’s between us, m’lady, will never be finished.
Lucian closed his eyes just for a second, his head resting on Serina’s. She was his anchor. She was the one and only reason his heart beat. She gave them a second chance at love and a life together, and he was never going to let her down again. Peeking around his wife, he suggested, “Ands, maybe you could go with Duncan. Check on Jonah. We don’t need him growing fur on us now.”
“And we don’t need you looking like a saber tooth tiger either, Luce.” André slapped his brother’s arm trying to lighten his mood.
Lucian snapped his teeth at him. “You want to feel what my wife felt? I’d be more than happy to rip a—never mind.”
“Some other night, Luce, when I’m totally pissed and have given up on all women, then, you tall, dark, drink of a man, maybe I’ll let you sink your tiny, little, teeth into me.” André laughed so hard he fell off the seat. “Come on Duncan, help me up and let’s go check on your new best friend.”
Duncan walked out alone.
Chapter Eighteen
“Do you see Jonah?” André asked feeling his way around in the dark.
“No time for puzzles, boys,” Jonah whispered. He may as well have been invisible because neither man could see him even though he could see them perfectly. “We’re not alone, and we’ve trouble.”
André spun to find where the voice originated from, and he slammed into Duncan.
“Jonah, where are you? Who’s here with us? Do either of you have a match?” Duncan asked.
“No! Don’t light it.” Desperation filled Jonah’s voice. “I don’t want it to touch me again.”
“Again?” André reached blindly and gripped an arm, hoping it was Jonah’s. “Jonah, what happened?”
“It brushed up against me, and I felt a thousand snakes biting me. Then it hissed, just as a snake would, only meaner, I’m sure of it.”
“Oh, Christ, no more nasty things,” André muttered.
She watched them fumble, trip over bags and each other, a malicious curl to her lips. Her indefectible night vision kept her alive; it was where she lived. She sat perched on top of her polished black box waiting for the precise moment to strike. After a few awkward minutes and her inability to control her impulsiveness she spoke.
“Hello, André. ’Tis been years since I’ve heard your angelic voice. I thought I might go mad from missing you, but what fate we have, you and I, to end up here together again on this train.”
André could not breathe. Funny thing, he never really thought too much about air until there was none. Now, he missed it—miserably. He was certain fingers choked the very life from him, even though no one touched him. He was positive his chest had just been ripped open and his heart torn out—still beating. This was the part of the stories he despised as a small child, where the monster came to get him, and twenty-four years later, that damned beast still plagued him.
The voice could not be the person he knew it belonged to. She’d been long gone from this world. His mouth went bone dry. A week prior...hearing her voice, he would have welcomed her with open arms. Things had changed! After the past week’s unveilings he wanted the woman as far away from him as possible and yet now here she was, somewhere in the room with him, speaking to him as if it was yesterday.
Duncan corralled André and Jonah and backtracked to the car door. About one foot away from freedom, the door opened in and a very large male shoved through the opening, hogging any trace of light that may have filtered in from his presence alone.
“Good evening, my Princess. I see we have company. Splendid.”
André mouthed, “Princess,” to a blackened room.
The large man’s delicate voice sang like a soprano’s, soft, feminine. The body was anything but. He resembled a bull, castrated, and full of ire. With a light clap of his hands, he smiled, displaying an empty toothless grin.
“I don’t know about you,” Jonah yelled, “but we need to get out of here. She’s got fangs, this one. Big healthy ones. And he’s flippin’ toothless.”
“Silence, little mutt. André, how is it you travel with this sorry excuse of a werewolf, and Duncan? Let me guess, son, where there’s Duncan, his little lamb Lucian’s sure to follow. Didn’t we slaughter him? Am I right?”
“Who are you, lady?” Jonah snapped. “Let me try again boys, we need to get out of here, now!”
“André, why is it you do not speak to me, my love? Has it been so long that you’ve lost your manners? Introduce me to your mangy little pet. I might be wanting one of my own some day. I’d like very much to teach him a new trick or two—roll over...play dead.” Chyna St. James hissed through her teeth looking directly at Jonah. “I can smell your fear, mutt.”
Jonah countered, “Trust me lady, I smell like bloomin’ roses compared to you.”
“He’s not a mutt, Mother. Or at least that’s who I thought you were.” André added, “Jonah, meet my mother, or my Aunt Chyna or whatever the hell you are or were.” He turned in Duncan’s direction, his facial expression plagued with that
oh-my-God-what-the-hell-just-happened-and-how-do-we-remedy-it
look. “Duncan, I’m positive you need no introductions.” André tried to place where the voices came from, while waves of bile sloshed around inside his stomach making his disposition all the more miserable.
Luce, help! Chyna is on the train and not quite dead, but dead all the same, if you understand me. Sadly, you two seem to have some common ground now.
I’m on my way. André, are you all right? Where is everyone?
Define all right.
Things were not well in the rear of the train.
Lucian looked at Serina and that look said more than words ever could have. “Stay put. I will be back. Let no one through that door other than those who boarded the train with us. Understood? Get your crosses out. I love you.” Lucian bent down and kissed her hard then went out the door in a blur.
Reading Lucian’s mind as well as Jonah’s, Serina explained to Payton what had happened.
“Have a look-see at this, Serina.” Payton pulled his and André’s packs from the overhead compartment and displayed a small arsenal, silver knives, a gun loaded with silver bullets, a gun that launched wooden stakes, a hammer, a crossbow and garlic. Lots of garlic.
Serina hugged him. “Where were you on my honeymoon? Where did the crossbow come from, Payton?”
“Don’t look at me, Serina. I’m just the cook, remember? I brought my knives and garlic. Figured if we never got us a vamp, we’d at least eat. Garlic goes with anything.”
Payton’s amber eyes lit up his face and lightened Serina’s mood.
“André brought the crossbow. Said he’s used it on many occasions. My personal favorite is the gun that shoots stakes. It’s like a spear gun for whales, except much smaller.” Payton scratched his head. “What happens next?”
“You ever make bat stew?” Serina raised her brows to him.
****
“Who is the oaf you travel with?” André asked.
“You need to show some respect to your mummy, André,” Chyna chided. She waved her arms in circles and levitated off the floor, floating over André, hoping to show off her talents, but when she realized her efforts were wasted in the dark she laughed.
An ungodly shriek echoed in the compact room. André and Duncan covered their ears. Jonah howled himself hoarse.
“Do I need to show you that I command respect now?”
“You’re not my mother and respect is earned. And when did you start using your title, princess? Little late for formalities isn’t it? Why did you lie to us all these years? What did you possibly have to gain?”
“You, son.”
“Stop calling me your son,” André pounded his fist into the wall.
“Your mother was weak. You were special to me. I could not have children and when your Mum sired three, things worked swimmingly to my vantage. Our dear Queen ran about telling everyone I used a potion, of all things, to get what was rightfully mine. She sounded truly insane. She did however, tell your mum she could have me head if she’d liked, but your mum was such a soft-heart, she neither believed her sister or wanted me dead. Pity the feeling wasn’t mutual.”
André listened to the woman who raised him, whom he once loved as a mother and understood that he had to come to terms his entire life had been based on a lie and that this frail creature was well past her due date and rotted.
“Mo—Chyna, you just admitted to killing Lorelei and Christian. How could you?” André felt Duncan throw his arm around his shoulder for support. Or at least, he
really
hoped it was Duncan’s.
“No, I did not. Did I?” Her sentinel shook his head no.
“Chyna, where have you been all these years?” His attempt to come off chipper sounded lame, and Duncan cursed under his breath. Chyna was the one and only St. James’ family member he didn’t fancy before she disappeared. Nothing had changed over the years as far as he was concerned. “Would someone please light a lantern? ’Tis been far too long since we’ve seen you.” Tongue in cheek took on a new meaning for him as he tried very hard not to insult or upset the delusional vamp who still believed she could sit upon the throne one day.
“You were too young to remember what happened the last day I was with you, but since you’re here, I’ll tell. Lorelei and I had a nasty parting of the ways. She informed me she was going to have the Queen lock me up for—” Chyna paused and picked at the dead skin from her chafed lips.
As easily as snapping her fingers together, she lit the lantern and then everyone became visible, like it or not. She laughed at their shocked faces. “I believe she used the phrase, ‘Until hell freezes over.’ I remember being in the Queen’s garden and receiving an offer from a very radiant, young woman telling me she could make all my dreams come true. All she wanted in return was one kiss. Sounded fair. Pity she didn’t bother telling me it would be the kiss of death.”
“Her name,” André demanded.
Chyna smirked. “Her surname came from some sort of cow. And as my recollection tells me, she looked like one too.”
Duncan and André exchanged a knowing glance.
“Contessa?” André said under his breath. “How?”
Duncan shrugged his shoulders.
“Anyway, your dear mother won that battle, but I won the war. How do I look, André?” She stood directly in front of him and gave a quick spin around.
Holding up the wall with nowhere else to turn, Duncan answered for his mate.
“Better than he does at the moment. This may be the one and only time I say this but Contessa has you beat.” Duncan noted André had gone whiter than a sheet of virgin paper.
Duncan studied the one woman whose havoc seemed to follow her better than a shadow. Chyna’s glazed-over and emotionless eyes resembled those of a fish packed in ice at the market. Her orange-crepe cloak with its high collar, once her favorite, was now filthy and tattered. No amount of lye could bring it back. The pristine white gown she wore to her sister’s coronation now held stains of red and brown—from what, Duncan didn’t want to venture a guess.
But, the icing on the cake was the diamond and ruby tiara that topped her head. The prongs poked into her scalp to steady it. She’d worn it many times dancing around the manor, not a care in the world. Now, patchy wiry strands of dull brown and grey hair poked through the crown like antennas on a bug. Duncan rubbed his eyes. What he thought he saw and what he actually saw had to be two different things. It just had to. Open sores spread across bald patches, maggots and larvae residing within. Duncan spun fast and vomited on the strange man’s feet. He offered no apology after wiping his mouth on the man’s sleeve.
“Someone please turn the lantern off,” Jonah moaned as he turned away from everyone holding his stomach. He too heaved into the contents of one of the open boxes filled with trinkets.
“Some lucky bloke is going to get more than they bargained for once home,” André added.
Duncan grinned at the odd man about ready to come after him. “So tell us, Chyna, who is your sentinel or should I say companion…”
André cut Duncan off, “I liked oaf better.”
Duncan wanted to hug André for attempting to make him laugh.
“Boys meet Phillip, my companion. Phillip has been neutered by me,” she announced. Her smile reeked of pride for a job well done. “I’m rather proficient at the surgery and require all my men nipped and tucked.”
André shot a glance to Duncan who in turn looked at Jonah and just as fast offered, “Him. Castrate him if you must.” A low steady growl at his back, Duncan was happy he’d hit a nerve. The werewolf he could do without.
“Phillip is indispensable to me, so I suggest you not try anything stupid. Duncan, darling, didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not polite to stare? Especially at those superior to you? You never were too bright.” Chyna turned her full attention to the man and walked within inches of him. “Or do you think you’re stronger willed than I? Care for a challenge?”
Duncan stepped forward.
André grabbed his arm. “Old man, don’t prove her right!” Knowing or at the very least hoping she wouldn’t harm him, André sought Chyna’s attention. “Chyna, please—” André found if he concentrated on just his breathing he could speak and think clearly. He was able to do two things at once. Joy all but bubbled from him. “It’s just such a shock seeing you after all these years. You can’t imagine what I thought thinking my mother dead and then being raised by my aunt, who was indeed my real mother and now seeing you again—it’s such a shock.”
Albeit a repulsive one.
“Yes, my love. I do know how you feel. I’m sorry Mummy scared you.”
Chyna’s voice made André want to vomit.
Jonah did just that for him.
“I would never hurt you, André.”
Seeing her arm coming straight at him, André sidestepped her attempt at contact.
“Naughty boy.” Chyna made some little tsk, tsk noises, as she waved her index finger back and forth in his face. Her hand moved so fast no one saw her grab him. Chyna wrangled him into a choke-hold and held him at an angle that left his neck unprotected. He fought, but even with her demure stature, she wielded inhuman strength. “I think I’m in need of some new company in my travels, Phillip. I’ll be keeping my son with me.”