Vaewolf: Damn the Darkness: The Prophecy's Promise (Hearts of Darkness Book 3) (9 page)

Training, in less than four months? Hell, another thing to worry about. Dylan shrugged one shoulder. “I’m already working with the three new vampires and the Halflings, not to mention Caitlin, so what’s one more? In three or four months, the new ones should have enough experience to deal with Jackson.”

Garr gave Dylan a half grin again, the one that looked like a snarl. “I’ll see to it Jackson fits his training schedule into yours, and anything he has to do with the pack can be arranged around your classes.”

“Aye. Will that work?”

“As the alpha pack leader, the packs are flexible while he’s preparing to take his rightful place.”

Dylan liked the idea of getting the new ones together with Jackson. “Then that’s settled. He’ll attend vampire school with the rest.”

Garr tossed a glance in the direction of the guest quarters. “How are the Halflings adjusting? I’m heading over there, now.”

“Last I heard, good. But that’s one area I could use more female help with. Since Max’s demon imprinted on the older sister, he’s having a helluva time staying under control while the girls adjust to their new surroundings, and I need him clear headed right now.”

Lately, because Max was dealing with his infatuation with the Halfling demoness, Genevieve, he was literally and figuratively useless to Dylan. Research was the one thing Dylan dared ask of him. The man was incapable of maintaining control over his libido or his aggressive nature around the woman. He was working on it, but at least he could be counted on to guard the female causing his problems, and her little sister.

When his research work took precedence, the succubus Simone and Garr took alternating shifts with the two new additions to the Parrish.

“The Halflings don’t concern me as a danger. I sense those two are more light fae than dark.”

“Then how they existed in the Underworld, I don’t know.” Garr shook his head and gazed toward his destination. “Isobel has taken to the little female. There’s no shortage of maternal instincts around here. Give it time and the young Halfling will be under foot with all the rest of the local young. And Max will get himself under control until the Halfling’s willing to accept him. I’ve seen the way she looks at him.”

The idea made Dylan grin. Having Jackson around again, with all the other new additions to the compound, warmed his heart, but he needed all his people prepared. The vampire bloodline provided certain innate knowledge, but not everything Jackson would need in order to lead...or enough to keep the rest safe now that the rogues and the demons had joined forces.
And for what purpose?

Garr smoothed out his hair, and Dylan gave the Werewolf a long hard stare. “Why you lookin’ so spiffy?”

“I told you. I’m relieving Isobel this afternoon. She’s with the Halflings.”

“Isobel, huh?” The attractive auburn haired Cajun, a vampire originally from Canada, moved into Dylan’s compound when he set it up years before. She’d been in the area since the early 1800’s and was a wealth of knowledge, helping with the locals and humans. She and the wolf once had a thing for each other, but when neither felt the life mate connection to the other they’d settled for friendship.

“It’s not that way between us anymore. You know my wolf hasn’t imprinted on her, Dylan. I won’t risk her heart. No, I didn’t want to scare the young one. Anyway...Simone may relieve me, later.” Garr dismissed the topic of conversation with a brisk shake of his head. “Never mind all that. How can I help you free up some time? I could check on Max when I go over there.”

“Could you? That’d be one helluva load off my shoulders. He knows Caitlin is approaching stasis too rapidly for my taste. Fill him in on our plans. And see if you can dig up any details about when Victor Salazar is due back. We could use his advice on a couple of issues right away. Besides if the demons attack, we’ll need more vampires with demon blood to fight them.”

“No problem,
mon ami
. You go take care of business in town. You called Delavega, non? You’ll want to grill the good detective over the progress of the rogue jaguar hunt. Jackson can share last night’s details with you both.”

The cagey wolf was right. Dylan and the detective needed to be on the same page and organize information for their individual records. Caitlin had been working with Delavega before she’d been shot, but it would still be awhile before she could get back to work. And if the demons knew Caitlin had turned, she
would
be the next prime target for the demon horde. Dylan was still baffled about why she’d hesitated when it came to pulling the trigger on the kidnapper. A seasoned agent and experienced psychic like her wouldn’t have choked. And the memory seemed to have dimmed from her memory since the change.

Dylan had beaten himself up for not getting to her in time. So much so, he mastered his new priority, the ability to sift, in no time at all. But ach, too late... Hindsight! Bah! There was no point going down that road again. He was determined to find answers.

“Keep a close eye on the estate and Caitlin, while I’m in town.”

“I sent a message to the pack. They’ll be out covering the grounds, and I’ll post a few guards on the perimeter.”

“Damn, Garr, I’d hug you—”

“No thanks necessary, bloodsucker.” The Cajun lifted the kickstand and ducked away chuckling.

Dylan high-fived him and smiled. “Thanks, man. I owe you!”

Garr’s brows pulled together and he tapped the phone in his shirt pocket. “Call if you anything.” Then, he mounted the hog, and took off in the opposite direction.

“Sure thing,” Dylan replied as the motorcycle moved out of earshot. With his words, a laugh escaped. The change his life had taken after years of caring for no one but himself turned into mounting responsibilities. Caring for Jackson since his fifteenth birthday and now, almost fourteen years later, here he was adding chicks to his nest, day by day. There were plenty of vampires around he could go to for help, but what he needed was a vampire he could trust to help him train.

Chapter Eleven

Du Monde, the French Quarter

With mist filling the New Orleans air like a thick steam bath, Dylan pulled his car into a parking spot on a side street, turned off the wipers, and remembered to call Ramon. The heavy fog kept the morning air wet, and the overcast sky lent a quiet mask of normalcy to the boisterous city that would appear at sunset.

With his phone at his ear, Dylan strode into the famous coffee shop, after tapping the detective’s number in. When it went to voice mail, he said, “Delavega, Macgregor here. I’m meeting Jackson at Du Monde’s in about ten minutes. I discovered there was an incident last night—something you’ll be interested in. A few of Jackson’s friends and a group of mutual suspects in the Caitlin shooting ran into each other out in the bayou. Thought you’d be interested in questioning him. Perhaps you should stop by for coffee and details.”

Dylan tapped the phone off, and it immediately rang back.

“Real coffee, black, and two beignets. I’m on my way.” Detective Delavega’s faint Cajun accent expressed each word with an emphasis on syllables that weren’t there, lending a thick, rolling sing-song effect to his clipped order. The French Quarter homicide division cop knew and worked closely with Dylan over the past several years. He used Dylan’s gift for finding missing children as a cover for the more gruesome cases they disguised as animal attacks whenever they could. Not only did he know all about the supernatural group Dylan ran—he even helped when he could. Over the years, they’d shared information and responsibilities in order to keep the group a secret.

“And, Dylan,” Ramon said. “Don’t start without me.”

“I’ll wait and defer the interrogation to you. You ask the questions. I’ll get the impressions from his mind. Maybe I’ll notice something Jackson missed in the fray.”

Drinking French chicory instead of coffee reminded Dylan of his life before coffee had been discovered. Macgregor enjoyed the peace the thick fog provided while waiting for Jackson and the detective. Any minute now, he expected Jackson to sweep in and take the beignets off the table. The younger man still ate food and made a point of teasing Dylan about what he was missing every chance he had. After all these years, Dylan didn’t have a taste for most food. Coffee, a bloody Angus steak, and wine topped his list of exceptions. For social reasons, he never refused a good ale or a single malt, along with a cigar, on occasion.

Warm rich blood, the scent and taste, had replaced the desire for every flavor imaginable, especially recently, since he’d been drinking from Caitlin. The blood of his life mate satisfied like nothing else ever had—the single malt and bloody steak included.

In fact, Dylan had just been thinking about inviting Jackson to the estate for a game of pool, when he turned the corner walking straight toward him with the stealthy gait of a wild animal and the swagger of a man enjoying his prime.

As Jackson approached, Dylan wondered what the pack was feeding him. Whole sides of beef? He marveled at the added bulk Jackson put on since the last time he’d seen him, right before the last full moon. Damn, he grew larger with each passing month. He had to be close to six and a half feet tall and weighed at least over two-hundred and thirty or forty pounds. Broad shouldered and barrel chested, he was built more like his mother’s wolf side than his father’s longer muscled frame. Jackson’s size was a closer match to Dylan’s. Usually, berserkers and werewolves were only similar in size when fully engaged. Jackson pushed back a few strands of pitch black hair escaping from the rest tied at his nape.

The younger man already had a half inch on him and about ten pounds of pure muscle, but three-hundred years of experience would still give a man Dylan’s size an edge the kid didn’t have. An edge Dylan hoped he’d never need, not because he was afraid of him, but because he loved the man-child, the boy he’d taken on and cared for as a brother, like he was blood of his blood. And in a preternatural way, he was.

After battling the hordes and swinging a broadsword for so many years, Dylan could size up a man in an instant. Knowledge, timing, leverage—he still had much to teach the lad.

The usual thoughtful, surly scowl on Jackson’s broad face gave way to an open friendly grin when he spotted him.

“I’m glad you’re back.”

“Aye, And I as well.” Dylan stood so they could shake hands, but Jackson pulled him into a man hug, patting him enthusiastically on the back. “Laddie, you’ve grown again.”

“I’m finally taller, bro.” Jackson patted Dylan on the head, tussling his hair.

“Wulfgar feeding you swamp game?”

“Nah, no gators or cougars out in St. Loupe Parrish. The wolves scare ’em off.” He punched Dylan’s abs playfully with a one-two jab. “I see you’re staying in shape. Haven’t gone all soft yet, old man.”

“That day will never come. I have a life mate to impress.” He took his chair and Jackson took the one across from him.

“Speaking of life mates, when are you coming by?” Dylan planned Caitlin formal vampire coming out party for after her metamorphosis so she’d be at full strength with no symptoms to distract her. Not to mention, it would be more convenient to introduce his mate to everyone at the same time, then they could be done with it and get back to being together. But, he wanted Jackson to meet her before the others. Jackson was family, the only family either man had since Niccolai went to ground.

“I don’t know.” Jackson’s brow furrowed with worry.

“Caitlin’s anxious to meet you, and I’d prefer you two get together before the joint council meeting. She could use the additional support from friends and relatives.”

“I have training the whole week. And it’s cutting it close to the full moon. Just three days before.”

“So you haven’t figured out how to control that beast inside you, yet?” Dylan sat back and appraised Jackson’s expression. He, better than anyone, understood what it was like to fight a dark side of himself for control. “Tell Wulfgar I’m going to get another trainer if he can’t get you on the right track.”

“Hell, Dylan, the full moon this time of year is tough to resist even for the elders. I’m fine. Progressing well, according to Garr.”

The young man was too serious. “I’m just yankin’ your chains.” Dylan chuckled. “When do you think you’ll find time to stop by?”

“Not sure.” A worried expression flashed behind his eyes. “You know about last night...” His brow furrowed deeply. “Who’s with your mate now?”

“Garr has the pack patrolling the estate,” Dylan waved a hand, “and I have a few others taking turns guarding Caitlin when I can’t be there—Ah, here comes Ramon. I asked him to join us so you can fill us both in on last night’s attack.” Dylan moved his cane-backed chair and stood. “You can share the details with both of us at once.”

“Is he heading up the investigation?” Jackson also stood to greet the detective.

“Aye. He and Caitlin have the kind of organizational skills needed to handle this. But with Caitlin approaching her metamorphosis, she and I will be out of commission, so I want you to keep Delavega informed. He’ll coordinate the information with the rest of the groups.”

“Good choice.” Jackson handed the beignet platter to Ramon. “Have one.”

“Sit,
mes ami
.” Delavega grunted and reached for the beignet. “
Merci.
”